Murder in Maui Read online

  “Thanks for seeing me.” Seymour shook hands with the sixty-something man who was impeccably dressed in a gray suit.

  “I’m happy to do whatever I can to help,” Douglas said as he sat behind his desk. “We’re all broken up over the deaths of Liz and Larry.”

  “I understand your organization owns the condo they were using?”

  “Yes, that’s right. We originally bought it as an investment property; then decided we’d use it as a place for prospective members to stay when in town.”

  “Does everyone in the association have access to it?” Seymour looked at him.

  “Technically, yes. We keep a spare key in the office. Larry, who arranged for guests to stay at the condo, had the main one.”

  Seymour assumed the key left on the cabinet in the condo must have belonged to Nagasaka. But someone else who knew about the spare key could have used or duplicated it to enter.

  “Where is the spare key now?” Seymour asked.

  Douglas opened a desk drawer and removed a small envelope, emptying a key onto the desk. “Right here, like it always is.”

  “I see.” This told Seymour that anyone would be able to borrow the key and return it when the CEO was out of his office. “Do you know anyone in particular who might’ve held a grudge against one of the doctors or had any other reason to want one or both dead?”

  Douglas squeezed the tip of his nose. “This may sound cliché, but we’re like a happy family. Everyone likes and supports everyone else. So to answer your question, no, I don’t believe Larry and Liz’s deaths were connected to this organization.”

  “Not all families get alone lovingly,” Seymour couldn’t resist saying. “In fact, some have proven to be downright deadly.”

  “I’ll grant you that much. But I’m confident, Detective, that you’re looking in the wrong direction.”

  From Seymour’s experience that was cause for digging deeper. He doubted a CEO with his head in the clouds was as privy to all that was happening among the ranks as those beneath him.

  “Was it common knowledge among the members that Dr. Racine and Dr. Nagasaka were lovers?”

  Douglas flinched. “I’m sure Liz and Larry were discreet.”

  “Obviously not too discreet since they chose to use company property where anyone could have walked in on them.”

  “Our primary focus is treating our patients. We try not to regulate members’ personal lives, so long as no laws are broken.”

  Seymour’s brow furrowed. “Unfortunately, the law against murder was broken—twice. I’d like the names of every member of your organization.”

  Douglas raised a brow. “Is that really necessary?”

  “Probably not. But with two of your group murdered, it’s best to err on the side of caution. Don’t you think?”

  “Of course. Whatever you need, I’ll have my secretary get for you.”

  “Thank you.” Seymour wondered if protecting the company’s image was more important to him than seeing that justice was served no matter the cost.

  Douglas tapped his desk. “Oh there is one other thing I should probably mention, though it may or may not be relevant...”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We have a cleaning service come in once a week—meaning they also have a key to the condo. If I’m not mistaken, yesterday was their day to clean the place. Maybe something went horribly wrong—”

  Seymour’s lashes flickered. He thought about how clean the condo had been. Would a killer have taken time to tidy up the place after executing two people?

  “What’s the name of the cleaning service?”

  “Ocean View Housekeeping.”

  Seymour left with more than when he arrived. He would bring Leila up to snuff and see who was on duty as a housekeeper the day Racine and Nagasaka met their demise.

  * * *

  “The murdering housekeeper from hell,” remarked Leila, driving to the cleaning service. “Sounds like a B horror movie.”

  Seymour chuckled humorlessly beside her. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. At the very least, maybe the person saw something or someone before the fact.”

  “Two bad the dead can’t talk.”

  “But they can in some respects. How they were shot; where and why will speak for them.”

  “I suppose.”

  Leila favored him sideways. She liked the deep thinker in Seymour that only came with experience. What else was going on in that head of his? Maybe he would tell her sometime.

  They arrived at Ocean View Housekeeping, located in Ka’anapali, and met with the director Tess Kwan.

  “We’re conducting an investigation into two people murdered at the Crest Creek Condominiums on Tuesday,” Leila told her.

  “I heard about that.” Tess shook her head. “How terrible.”

  “We understand one of your employees cleaned the condo that day.”

  “Actually the condo was cleaned on Monday, but we did have a problem with the housekeeper—Melissa Eng.”

  Seymour gazed at her. “What problem was that?”

  Tess hesitated. “I’m afraid Melissa was caught stealing from the residence. Of course, we let her go immediately. We have a zero tolerance policy against any type of inappropriate conduct.”

  “Who reported it?” he asked.

  Tess glanced at her desk. “Larry Nagasaka.”

  Leila fixed Seymour’s face. It appeared Melissa Eng had given them a real reason to pursue this angle further.

  * * *

  Melissa Eng lived in a house in Ma’alaea. Seymour was familiar with the area not far from Wailea, having worked a case there several years ago in which a disgruntled man shot and killed two co-workers before turning the gun on himself.

  Could this be another case of worker rage?

  He knocked on the door and waited beside Leila for a response.

  It came a moment later. A small boned woman in her late thirties stood there.

  “Melissa Eng?”

  “Yes...”

  He tried to imagine her gunning down two people. Stranger things had happened.

  “I’m Detective Seymour and this is Detective Kahana with the Maui Police Department. We’d like to talk to you about the shooting deaths of Larry Nagasaka and Elizabeth Racine at the Crest Creek Condos.”

  Melissa’s eyes grew. “What does it have to do with me?”

  “Maybe nothing. Just a routine part of our investigation. Can we come in?”

  She waited a beat before nodding.

  Seymour took a sweeping glance inside. The faint smell of marijuana crossed his nostrils. He sensed the same from Leila.

  He gave Melissa a direct gaze. “Why don’t you tell us about being fired for stealing?”

  “It wasn’t fair.” Her brow creased. “I never stole anything from that place.”

  “Did you explain that to Larry Nagasaka before he reported you?” Leila asked bluntly.

  “I tried, but the man took a holier than thou attitude.” She sneered.

  “So why would he lie about it?”

  “How should I know? Maybe it’s how he got his kicks. He never proved anything, but they didn’t want to listen.”

  Seymour narrowed an eye. “You’ve got an audience right now. If there’s anything you need to get off your chest, this is the time to do it.”

  Melissa shot him a cold gaze. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  “Did you kill Larry Nagasaka and the woman he was with to get back at people who thought they were better than you?”

  “No!”

  Seymour peered. “Where were you on Tuesday night when the murders occurred?”

  “Right here. I never went back there once I turned my key in on Monday.”

  “Can anyone vouch for that?”

  “I was home alone.” Her eyes sharpened. “I didn’t think I would need to account for where I was.”

  “Maybe you should rethink that,” he said. “Do you own a gun?”

  “No. Even if
I did, I wouldn’t use it to settle a score.”

  Seymour found it interesting she would consider being fired for what they could only assume was just grounds worthy of settling a score. The question was how far was she prepared to go to carry out her vendetta?

  * * *

  The autopsies on Elizabeth Racine and Larry Nagasaka were completed by seven p.m. on Thursday.

  Seymour and Leila met afterward with the Medical Examiner Patricia Lee to discuss the results.

  “Both victims died as a result of massive head trauma and blood loss caused from gunshots,” she said. “Based on the powder burns on the skin and contusion rings around the wounds, I’d say the shooter was standing right over the victims toward the left side and shot them at a pointblank range.

  “A single bullet entered Mrs. Racine’s head from just behind the left ear, exiting from her forehead. Additionally, she was shot twice in the back, ripping though vital organs. Two of the bullets exited her and entered Mr. Nagasaka’s body. One lodged in his heart, the other his right thigh. But it was the two shots to the victim’s face that proved to be the death blow. They fractured his nose, left cheek, and right eye socket, along with causing extensive brain damage. One bullet was removed from his head while the other exited from the back of Nagasaka’s neck.”

  “Time of death?” asked Seymour, wincing at the description of the victims’ violent departure.

  “I’d estimate somewhere between eight and eighty-thirty p.m.”

  This corresponded with the time the gunshots were reported.

  “Could there have been more than one shooter?”

  Patricia looked at him. “Not likely. The position of the wounds is consistent with a single shooter.”

  “I don’t suppose you can tell if our shooter was a man or woman?” Leila asked.

  “I’m afraid that’s for you to determine. But if I had to hazard a guess, when looking at all the factors, I’d have to say the killer was probably between five-nine and six feet, so draw your own conclusions.”

  Seymour already had. Most homicides were committed by adult males, which seemed to be the case this time. Didn’t mean women were incapable of such, though, especially when armed with a lethal weapon and the right height. Or there could have been a female accomplice involved the murders.

  He rubbed his chin. “One other thing, Doctor. What can you tell us about the type of gun used in the crime?”

  She pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “Based on the bullets recovered from the victims, I’d say they likely came from a .25 caliber handgun.”

  Seymour had guessed as much. Ballistics would confirm, giving them one important piece of the puzzle toward solving this case.

  FIVE

  Detective Trent Ferguson drove into Honokawai in West Maui. He felt a slight chill thinking about the eighteen-year-old high school senior who was raped and strangled to death two months ago by someone who had been stalking her. Cassandra Woo had a whole life ahead of her, till it was taken away. Ferguson had worked hard to crack the case, motivated at least in part by having lost a cousin the same way twenty years earlier.

  Lenny Washburn was finally apprehended this morning after fleeing Maui for the Big Island. If Ferguson had his way, the bastard would get the death penalty. Hawaii was too soft on violent criminals, not having the guts to enact such measures for non federal murder cases.

  Ferguson turned onto Lower Honoapiilani Road, where Cassandra’s parents lived. He made them a promise that Washburn would not escape justice and wanted to tell them the news in person.

  He stopped in front of the bungalow. Yao Woo was mowing the lawn while his wife, Olivia, was sitting on the lanai.

  They greeted Ferguson warmly when he approached.

  He didn’t beat around the bush. “Your daughter’s killer was arrested in Hilo an hour ago. Cassandra can rest in peace now.”

  “Thank you.” Olivia wrapped her arms around his waist and wept.

  Yao’s eyes crinkled. “We only wanted some justice.”

  Ferguson choked up. “I hope you can move on with your lives now.” He doubted they could ever overcome the tragedy. At least there was some sense of closure.

  He left them, feeling a little satisfaction, even as Ferguson now had to put his efforts into helping to solve the murder of two doctors. Kahana and Seymour had been handed a case that had all the earmarks of a vendetta.

  But against whom?

  If he were a betting man, Ferguson would put his money on Larry Nagasaka. He’d read once that the doctor had run into some financial difficulties. Had he been forced to pay the piper?

  Ferguson drove to a part of Lahaina that had a known problem with prostitution in recent years, catering to the burgeoning tourism industry. The police department had chosen to focus their efforts primarily on johns, while more or less giving the streetwalkers a free ride.

  He brought his official vehicle to a stop not far from a young woman. Ferguson could tell by her body language that she was a hooker.

  She walked up to the car and lowered her face to the passenger window. “Hi.”

  “Hey,” he said, noting she wore way too much makeup and had blonde extensions.

  “Are you lookin’ for some action?”

  “Maybe. You offering some?”

  She favored him warily. “You a cop?”

  He grinned. “Just a guy needing to get off. Can you help me out?”

  “You got twenty bucks?”

  “Yeah, with your name on it. Why don’t you get in the car?”

  She looked around as though it were a police sting. Seemingly satisfied, she got in the car.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Gina.”

  He was sure it was her street name. Not that he cared one way or the other.

  Ferguson stuck a twenty dollar bill inside her top. He unzipped his pants and immediately got an erection.

  She bent her head down and gave him a blow job.

  It took less than two minutes.

  Ferguson said nothing as the prostitute exited the car and took her place again on the street.

  He headed home to his wife.

  * * *

  On Saturday afternoon, Leila met her friend Jan Monroe at a deli in Lahaina. They sat at a corner table by the window.

  Jan was just the opposite of Leila in appearance: tall and leggy, blonde and green-eyed. She seemingly had a new man in her life every week and Leila practically needed a scorecard to keep up. But Jan’s true passion was her art. She painted beautiful landscapes that Leila could only dream of doing.

  “So tell me I can count on you being at my showing Saturday night.” Jan batted fake eyelashes.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Leila sipped a café latte.

  “Good, because even though I invited everyone I know, I wouldn’t be surprised if only half of them showed.”

  “Their loss, which would give the rest of us more room to admire your paintings.”

  “Good point.”

  “Just don’t forget about us ordinary folks when you hit the big time.”

  Jan chuckled. “Not sure I want to go there. I’m happy where I am at this point in my life. Besides, you are anything but ordinary. Apart from being beautiful, you’re one kick ass detective and can out-sketch anyone when push comes to shove.”

  Leila blushed. “You’re good for my ego. Still, my life is far from ideal. I live alone in my late grandfather’s house, work too much, date too little, and have the hots for my married, but separated partner, who’s only fourteen years my senior. Is that screwed up or what?”

  “You’re no more screwed up than the rest of us, Leila, if there is such a thing. Who wouldn’t want to live mortgage free in a quaint little house within arm’s reach of the beach? And we all work too much. It’s the world we live in. As for being attracted to your partner, I say let it happen if he feels the same. It’s not like you have to marry him or anything, considering his circumstances.”

  �
��I’m not opposed to marriage.”

  “Neither am I. But being a product of divorce, I believe in taking my sweet time before heading down the aisle. Doesn’t mean I can’t have a lot of fun in the meantime.”

  Leila wished she could be as carefree. Was Seymour interested in being with anyone other than his wife? Or had he been there, done that one time too many?

  Would that lead to a conflict of interest on the job?

  * * *

  Seymour’s rented house was on Kaohu Street in Wailuku. He’d called in a favor to the owner and friend who lived in Hana and offered him a reduced rate to stay there as long as he liked. Seymour only intended for that to be a short while. He had every intention of moving back home once Mele realized they were better together than apart.

  But what if that day never came? Could be she was dead serious about this separation becoming permanent and, if so, he would have no one to blame but himself.

  Maybe it was time to cut his losses and try someone new. Isn’t that what got him into trouble in the first place?

  Seymour scanned the channels on TV with the remote. As usual, there was nothing to watch on a Saturday evening in the middle of summer. He sank back into the recliner and grabbed his beer bottle.

  He’d met Nikole at a grocery store where a man had been killed during a botched holdup. Nikole was the clerk and witness to the crime. She reminded Seymour of Mele, only she was younger, and without the history that brought routine to a relationship. It hadn’t been his intention to get involved with her, but it happened.

  Mele walked in on them after he’d been foolish enough to bring Nikole to the house. His wife was supposed to be at the high school where she taught English. It was one of the most embarrassing and frustrating moments of Seymour’s life.

  If he could do it over again, things would be different. As it was, he had to live with the past.

  And the future, too.

  Seymour gulped down more beer. He could use some company about now. Mele wasn’t in the mood. Might never be again. Didn’t mean he would stop trying to win her back.

  He wasn’t good at fighting what seemed to be a losing battle.

  Leila came to mind. She seemed to understand him better than most. There was a sexual attraction between them, though they had refrained from acting on it. Maybe they could get something going.