Murder of the Hula Dancers Page 4

  "Samantha Brolin. She advertised her services online. I hired her at the same time as Yoshie, just to make sure I had all my bases covered in case one or the other didn't pan out."

  It occurred to Leila that maybe Yoshie's killer had gone after Samantha as well—two murders for the price of one knife. Had anyone reported her missing?

  "I think that's all I need from you at the moment, Mr. Swain," Leila said politely. "If you have any plans to leave the island in the next few days, I would appreciate you letting me know."

  "I have no plans to leave," he told her, rising. "Hope you catch the killer. Yoshie was a fun lady and really seemed to like hula dancing."

  Leila didn't doubt that much, but responded darkly: "Until the dancing was stopped cold by someone."

  * * *

  Chung stood over Vance Takahashi in the room, glaring at him, while Leila sat across from the thirtyish, dark-haired, tall, well put together groom, playing nice. Now it was his turn to tighten the screws a little and see if the dude cracked.

  "Why don't you tell us what happened after you accompanied Ms. Akiyama outside the club?" Chung said, deliberately deepening his voice.

  "Nothing," Takahashi insisted. "I walked her to her car, thanked her for showing up at my bachelor party, gave her a friendly hug, and went back inside the restaurant."

  Chung didn't necessarily doubt his story, but it had yet to be validated by the video surveillance of the area in question as well as inside the club. "Did you happen to see anyone lurking around the parking lot while you were outside?"

  "Just my friend, Wally," he said.

  Chung glanced at Leila, who cocked a brow and asked: "That would be Wally Goshi?"

  "Yeah."

  "That's interesting," Leila said. "We were led to believe by Chuck Swain that you were the only one from your bachelor party group that accompanied her outside."

  Takahashi lifted his head. "He was mistaken—probably from having one beer too many. Wally definitely followed me outside and was still flirting with Yoshie when I went back inside."

  "And how long would you say it took before you saw Wally again?" Chung asked him.

  Takahashi mused. "I'd say it was only a few minutes."

  "Was he acting strange—like he'd just stabbed Yoshie Akiyama to death?" Chung was blunt with the question.

  "No, not at all. He talked about her being super-hot and asked for her number, but said she didn't give it to him and that was that. Then the stripper came and, uh, kept the entertainment going, if you know what I mean."

  "I'll bet she did." Chung couldn't help but fantasize about being given a lap dance by a stripper with a big ass. "Did you run into anyone else inside or outside the club who was acting strange or maybe seemed to have the hots for the hula dancer?"

  Takahashi shook his head. "Not really. Everyone I saw appeared to be into the people they were with."

  "Looks can be deceiving," Chung said, "especially when it comes to murder."

  Takahashi frowned. "I feel terrible about what happened to Yoshie. And my fiancée feels terrible about it too."

  Chung considered the jealous girlfriend angle. Stranger things had happened than a bride-to-be losing her cool at the thought of her fiancé cozying up to a gorgeous hula dancer. Had that resulted in her stabbing to death the competition?

  "Just for the record," Takahashi said, as if reading his mind, my fiancée, Joslyn Stallone, was busy having her bachelorette party at exactly the same time in Lahaina. So she had nothing to do with Yoshie's death."

  "We'll keep that in mind," Leila said, following with: "You're free to go."

  * * *

  Leila pondered the discrepancy between Chuck Swain's account and that of Vance Takahashi's regarding the whereabouts of their friend, Wally Goshi after Yoshie Akiyama departed the club. Was Swain covering for Goshi? Or was it simply an honest mistake coming from an inebriated man?

  Or was it possible that Takahashi was looking for a scapegoat to cover his own tracks?

  She hoped that Goshi could—and would—help clear things up so he didn't look like a murderer.

  Gazing at the stocky, baldheaded man in his late twenties across the table, Leila asked evenly: "Did something happen between you and Yoshie Akiyama that you'd like to tell me?" She knew that Chung and Seymour were watching on the other side of the one-way mirror.

  Wally Goshi did not appear to be ruffled. "There's nothing to tell," he said tonelessly. "I know she's dead, but I didn't kill her."

  "I'm not suggesting you did," Leila said, even if she was certainly entertaining the possibility. "But the fact is you were possibly the last person to see Ms. Akiyama alive, if Vance Takahashi was correct in that you were still with her outside the club after he went back inside. Is that true?"

  Now he seemed a bit nervous, but responded: "Yeah, I stayed behind and asked Yoshie out. She turned me down and we went our separate ways. I never hurt her, I swear."

  "Did you see anyone else who may have wanted to hurt her?" Leila pressed him.

  "No, but I wasn't really paying attention to whoever else might have been out there or whatever. Once we were through, I headed back inside and actually hit on another woman, who I've got a date with tonight."

  He didn't exactly sound like a guilty person where it concerned murder, Leila thought. But that didn't mean he wasn't simply clever enough to have killed Yoshie and hid her body, before going back into the club as a cover, and then later drove the victim to the field where he dumped her body like yesterday's garbage.

  Leila also knew it was entirely possible that she was barking up the wrong tree and the killer was someone else who may not have even been in the club, but waited for Yoshie to exit before making his move.

  "Would you be willing to take a lie detector test, just to rule you out altogether as a suspect?" Leila asked Goshi, if only for effect.

  "Sure, why not," he answered easily enough. "I have nothing to hide."

  As far as she was concerned, that was good enough for now. Still, she wouldn't hesitate to take him up on that later, should the circumstances dictate such.

  * * *

  "What do you think?" Seymour asked curiously when Leila emerged from the interrogation room.

  "I doubt Goshi or any of the men at the bachelor party were involved in Yoshie Akiyama's death," she responded pointblank.

  "Really? It didn't exactly seem like they could keep their stories straight."

  Leila dismissed this. "That's not too surprising. They all probably had too much to drink and may have been sketchy on details, except for the one professing innocence of the crime. Given the precise nature of the attack and the indication that none of the men had much time to kill her and dispose of the body, I'd say our killer is more than likely someone else."

  "Yeah, like the hot-headed ex-boyfriend," Chung said gruffly. "We still haven't been able to contact him."

  Seymour had no reason to doubt that line of thought from what he'd been told about the ex and knew from past cases of intimate homicide. But, with no hard evidence or autopsy, it was too soon to get an arrest warrant. "Try harder," was all he could say to his detectives.

  Leila met his eyes. "Believe me, we want whoever killed Yoshie Akiyama taken into custody, whether it's her ex or someone else with a grudge against her or hula dancers in general."

  Seymour lifted a brow. "You think the perp could be a serial killer?"

  "Or have the makings of one," she said ominously, "if given a chance."

  "All the more reason to make an arrest sooner than later," he told them.

  Leila's cell phone rang. She answered, listened for a moment, and then hung up. Gazing at Seymour and Chung, she said: "We've got something on the video surveillance that might give us a clue as to what actually happened to Yoshie Akiyama from the time she left the Moku Club..."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  At the Maui Police Department Forensic Facility and Crime Lab, Leila and Chung were greeted by David Lovato, a Certified Forensic Video Technici
an. Leila honestly wondered if the long legged, lanky, thirtysomething man with short black hair and glasses had a life outside of work, as he never seemed to take a day off. Or maybe she was thinking more about herself, considering that her days off often seemed to turn into work days.

  "Hey," he said.

  "Hey." Leila smiled at him before getting down to business. "Let's see what you've got for us, Lovato."

  "Hope it's not a big waste of our time," Chung muttered.

  Lovato touched his glasses. "We never waste time around here, Detective. Every clue points to another clue in every murder case, am I right?"

  "Yes," Leila answered for him, sneering at Chung. "We're all eyes and ears for clues into this case."

  Lovato grinned. "Cool. Follow me."

  They did and watched as he sat at his station and pulled up the surveillance video from outside the Moku Club.

  "This is when the victim, Yoshie Akiyama, first arrived at the club," Lovato said, "complete with her hula costume."

  Leila studied the video, noting the time was around a quarter to seven. Yoshie seemed to have pep to her step as she headed toward the front door. There was no indication at that point that she was in future danger.

  "Moving forward..." Lovato paused as the video progressed, "we can see her leaving the restaurant at a little after eight, along with a man—"

  Leila recognized him as Vance Takahashi. Momentarily, she saw Wally Goshi leave the club as well. So far, the two were spot on in their recollections.

  "Is that all you've got?" Chung asked impatiently.

  "Not quite," Lovato replied. "Here's where it gets interesting..."

  Leila watched the monitor as the video sped up to the well-lit parking lot. It showed Yoshie at her red Subaru Crosstrek, along with Takahashi and Goshi. They were talking and laughing amicably. Then Takahashi walked away, leaving Goshi and Yoshie alone. Leila wondered if she would actually watch Goshi whip out a knife and stab her.

  Instead, they exchanged a few words, seemed to smile at one another, and he headed back toward the club. Yoshie was clearly still alive and well at that point, seemingly eliminating Goshi and Takahashi as suspects in her death.

  Would someone else show up at the last moment?

  Leila watched as Yoshie got in her car. There was no indication that another person was inside waiting for her. Moments later, she started the vehicle and drove off.

  "It doesn't look like her killer accosted her at that location," Lovato deduced.

  "So where the hell did she go after that?" Chung asked, scratching his forehead.

  Leila knew that was the million-dollar question and answered smartly: "Right into the path of a killer who probably also stole her car as a trophy along the way."

  "You mean someone like her ex?" Chung suggested.

  "He would be at the top of the list," she admitted, but didn't want to limit the suspects to one person, all things considered. Yoshie's profession lent itself to the potential for attracting a homicidal fan, stalker, or other person who chose to target her.

  That notwithstanding, it went without saying to Leila that finding the car might lead to the killer of Yoshie Akiyama. Or not. But at least they had a fresh lead that could hardly be ignored in the investigation.

  A BOLO was put out for a possible stolen red Subaru Crosstrek that was registered to murder victim Yoshie Akiyama.

  * * *

  Renee caught Chieko Ohata, the woman who shared a home with Yoshie Akiyama, just as she went on break from her job as a nurse at Maui General Hospital. It hadn't been too difficult to track her down, at least not for a good reporter with a story to tell.

  After identifying herself, she said in a friendly voice: "I'd like to ask you a few questions about your roommate, Yoshie Akiyama."

  Chieko hesitated, frowning. "I'm not sure I have anything to say."

  Oh yes you do, Renee thought determinedly. "I want my story to put her in the most positive light and I know you can help me with that. Don't you owe it to Yoshie to honor her memory by letting people know more about the real person beyond the victim?"

  Chieko's features softened. "Yeah, I guess so."

  Renee smiled. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

  She agreed and they went into the hospital cafeteria, where Renee hoped to pump her for as much information as possible.

  "So what type of person was Yoshie?"

  "She was kindhearted, dedicated, ambitious, and just a great overall lady," Chieko muttered sadly.

  "How long had she been hula dancing?" Renee asked over her mug of coffee.

  "Long enough to know it was in her blood, heart, and soul."

  "Did she ever do drugs?" Renee tried to lighten the question by adding: "I heard that some dancers use drugs to give them more stamina while performing."

  "Not Yoshie," Chieko insisted. "She did a little coke when she was younger, like my sister once did. But Yoshie had long since cleaned up her act."

  "That's good to hear." Renee wondered if she might have slipped back into some bad habits and if that could have somehow contributed to her death. "Another thing I heard was that some hula girls earned extra money on the side by prostituting themselves. Did Yoshie ever go there?"

  "No!" Chieko said adamantly. "She wasn't a hooker and I resent you even asking."

  "I'm, sorry." Not really, but she didn't want to lose her yet. "I just wanted to cover all the bases, for accuracy, in case some other journalist tried to indicate otherwise."

  "Yoshie didn't need to turn tricks. She made a pretty good living as a dancer," Chieko claimed, sipping her coffee.

  Renee didn't push that issue any further. "What about romance? Was there anyone special in her life?"

  Chieko frowned reflectively. "There was once... But he turned out to be a jerk—and maybe much worse..."

  By the time Renee left the hospital, she had the name and place of work for Yoshie's abusive ex and her possible killer, Paul Hailey.

  He worked at a lumberyard in Central Maui. Renee boldly went there after finding no one home at his condo. She suspected the police were hot on his trail as a suspect, mindful that ex-lovers and current lovers were often at the top of the list of possible murderers. However, on the off chance that Hailey somehow hadn't gotten the message, she would happily deliver it to him. At the same time, she would love to get his take on the death of his ex-girlfriend. If that included a confession to her murder, it would be even better.

  She walked up to a burly man who had been barking orders to others.

  "How can I help you?" he asked irritably.

  "I'm looking for Paul Hailey."

  He eyed her suspiciously. "What for?"

  Renee didn't hold back. "I'd like to get his take on the murder of his ex-girlfriend."

  "You a cop?"

  "A reporter for the Aloha News," she said honestly.

  "Hmm, I hadn't heard about the murder." He ran a hand across his jawline. "Unfortunately, he isn't here. Didn't show up for work today."

  She frowned. "Do you have any idea where I might find him?"

  "Your guess is as good as mine, lady. I don't pry into my employees' private lives. It's better that way for all of us. When, and if, he shows up, I'll tell him you stopped by."

  Renee twisted her lips thoughtfully and gave him her card. "You do that," she said tersely, while not holding her breath that Paul Hailey would bite the bait. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if he'd already fled the island, assuming he had a very good reason for doing so, such as committing murder.

  She left the lumberyard, placing Yoshie Akiyama's violent ex at the top of her list of suspects in the hula dancer's death.

  * * *

  Chung entered the Sassy Lounge on South Kihei Road. He made his way through the club and honed in on a stripper. She was wearing a long, flaming red wig, had large exposed breasts that were obviously implants, and was practically making love to a pole. He recognized her as Samantha Brolin, the stripper Chuck Swain had hired for Vance Takahashi's bachel
or party.

  Turned on by the way Swain had lasciviously mentioned her, Chung had decided to see if she had a record. Not too surprisingly, she had been busted for solicitation and drug possession. One or both might come in handy down the line.

  Right now, he just wanted to enjoy the show for a moment or two. He took out a twenty-dollar bill and waved it at her. When Samantha got up in his face, he stuck the bill between her ample breasts. She gave him a sexy smile and went back to doing her thing as a pole dancer.

  "Enjoying the show—?"

  Chung reacted to the voice. Turning, he looked up at the face of Shichiro Gutierrez, the drug dealer he'd come there to meet. He had been collecting a percentage of Gutierrez's and other traffickers' drug profits on the island for a while now. Gutierrez was forty, but looked younger, with black hair that was parted in the middle and tied in a short ponytail. He was a little taller than Chung and on the slender side, and was holding a tropical drink in his hand.

  "Not enjoying it half as much as you are, I'm sure," Chung said, deflecting the question.

  Gutierrez rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right."

  "Forget about her," Chung said, turning serious. "I think you've got something for me."

  Gutierrez glanced around ill at ease, before surreptitiously slipping an envelope in Chung's pocket. "It's all there," he assured him.

  Chung never doubted that and resisted the urge to count it right there. Instead, he grabbed the drug dealer's drink, finished it off himself, and handed him the glass. "See you around, man."

  Gutierrez offered no response and Chung didn't expect one. Theirs was strictly a business relationship that he had forced upon Gutierrez. Otherwise, he wouldn't give the dude the time of day.

  After leaving the club, Chung took out his cell phone. Suddenly feeling in the mood, he called his waitress girlfriend, Tatiana Yerkhov, a Russian who ended up on Maui after being dumped there by her last boyfriend.

  "Can you come to my place tonight?" he asked.

  "I'm on my way," she cooed.

  Chung grinned salaciously and headed home.

  CHAPTER SIX

  From the moment Leila walked in the door and saw Maxwell, she made no bones about it. She wanted him and she wanted him now. So she took him to bed. Turned on by her aggression, he became the aggressor and returned in kind everything she dished out.