Killer Connection (A Hawaii Mystery Novelette)

  Leila preferred to be on her own for now till someone came along who really made her want him.

  She looked again at her partner. "Why are you so quiet over there, Seymour?"

  "Just thinking about disappointing my daughter." He paused. "I was supposed to pick her up for the night. Then duty called."

  "Is it too late now?"

  "She's probably asleep."

  "She knows you're a cop. I think she'll understand." Easy for her to say.

  "Yeah, I suppose." Seymour sniffed. "I still hate letting her down."

  "So find a way to make it up to her."

  "I'll think of something."

  Leila's mind returned to the grisly crime scene. They were on their way to notify next of kin before the press could. This was one of the hardest parts of the job, along with tracing the winding path that had culminated with a double murder.

  * * *

  The address they had for Larry Nagasaka was in nearby Kihei. It was a beachfront estate surrounded by swaying palm trees in a gated community. Seymour could only imagine what a place like this went for. Certainly way out of his league.

  Apparently the doctor wasn't entirely at home here though, considering he'd chosen another location to have sex.

  The door was opened by an attractive petite Asian woman with long raven hair, almost as though she'd been expecting them.

  "Yes?"

  He identified them. "And you are...?"

  "Connie Nagasaka."

  "Is Dr. Larry Nagasaka your—?"

  "Husband. Yes." She frowned. "What is this about?"

  "Could we please come in?" Leila asked.

  Connie met her eyes and nodded. She led them into a large foyer. "What's happened to Larry?"

  Seymour cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to inform you that your husband's dead."

  A hand flew to her mouth. "How?"

  It was always the initial reaction Seymour tried to gauge in determining if such news came as a total shock.

  "He was shot to death."

  "Where?"

  "At a condo in Wailea."

  Connie's nostrils flared. "Was he with her?"

  "Who?"

  "His lover."

  Seymour glanced at Leila, deferring to her.

  "You knew your husband was having an affair?"

  "He made no secret of it. Neither did she."

  Leila glanced at her notes. "Two people were shot to death tonight. Your husband and a woman named Elizabeth Racine."

  Connie started to cry. "I told Larry she wasn't worth it. He never listened to me."

  "Mind telling us how you spent your evening?"

  She favored her sharply. "At home. By myself. I've gotten used to it."

  Seymour chewed on his lip. "Do you know anyone who would've wanted your husband dead?" He was still trying to decide if she belonged on that list.

  "Maybe Liz's husband, Kenneth," Connie answered matter-of-factly. "Few men can tolerate a cheating wife."

  * * *

  Leila eyed Seymour after they reached the department issued dark sedan. "She wasn't exactly a grieving widow."

  "Not everyone takes the news the same."

  "Especially when you have an adulterous husband who happens to be bringing in what has to be big bucks."

  Seymour opened the door. "Think she did it?"

  Leila imagined Connie pumping bullets into the lovers. "Anything's possible. Or maybe someone did the job for her."

  "Like Kenneth Racine?"

  "Hey, stranger things have happened. Maybe he'll save us all some trouble by fessing up."

  She wasn't holding her breath. From Leila's experience, most homicidal spouses were anything but accommodating. They usually preferred to blame everyone else for their problems, including the victim.

  Or, in this case, victims.

  Seymour pulled into the parking lot at Maui General Hospital where Doctor Kenneth Racine was on duty as medical director of the Behavioral Health Unit.

  Leila hated hospitals, an emotion born from fear of having her tonsils removed as a child and added to by the death of her father ten years ago after spending the last two months of his life in a hospital bed.

  They were directed to the third floor, where a nurse pointed toward a forty-something, tall man with thick gray hair. He seemed agitated after snapping his cell phone shut.

  "Dr. Kenneth Racine?" Leila asked.

  "Yes?"

  She lifted her ID. "We're detectives with the Maui County Police Department. Could we have a word with you in private?"

  His brow furrowed. "Look, if this is about those parking tickets, I swear I'll pay them. Things have just been a little crazy around here, you know?"

  "We're not traffic cops," Seymour said curtly. "This is a homicide matter—"

  Kenneth's head snapped back. "My office is just over there..."

  They followed him to the office, where he left the door open.

  "You said homicide?" He looked at Seymour.

  "Afraid we have bad news. Your wife, Elizabeth, was murdered."

  Kenneth's eyes bulged. "That's not possible! Liz is at a seminar in Honolulu."

  Leila blinked, wishing that had been the case for his sake and hers. "We believe a woman found shot to death at a condo in Wailea tonight is in fact Elizabeth Racine."

  He lifted his cell phone and pushed a button. "Yes, I need to speak to Elizabeth Racine. She's a guest there." A few moments passed. "What do you mean there's no one registered there by that name?"

  Leila regarded Seymour. She wondered if Racine's reaction was mainly for their benefit.

  He hung up, eyes downcast. "They said she never checked in, even though she had made a reservation."

  Leila supposed it had been smart to cover her tracks. That was, until someone made certain they ran out for good.

  "Larry Nagasaka was also murdered at the condo," she said.

  "Larry—" Kenneth gulped. "Are you telling me my wife and Larry were having an affair?"

  "Sure looks that way."

  "That bloody bastard."

  Leila didn't disagree, but that was beside the point. "You had no idea your wife was seeing another man?"

  Kenneth sneered. "Isn't the spouse always last to know?"

  "Not always," said Seymour. "We need you to account for your whereabouts tonight."

  "You're kidding, right? You think I actually had something to do with this?"

  "Wouldn't be the first time a vindictive spouse offed his wife and lover."

  Kenneth took a step backward. "Look, I loved my wife and would never have wanted her dead, no matter what. I've been working my ass off here since three o'clock trying to keep this unit together."

  * * *

  "His story seems to hold up." Seymour stood beside Leila in the elevator.

  "Even in a busy hospital, people can sometimes see what they want to," she said.

  "True. Wouldn't be too much of a stretch to believe Racine could've taken a break from his duties to get rid of a cheating wife and her lover."

  Leila ran a hand through her hair. "Aren't doctors supposed to be in the business of saving lives?"

  Seymour gave her a deadpan look. "That may well depend on whose life it is."

  He drove on the Honoapiilani Highway to West Maui where Leila lived.

  "Do you want to get a drink?"

  Leila didn't look his way. "Tempting, but I think I'll call it a night, if that's okay. It's been a long day."

  "You're right, it has been, and that's fine."

  "Another time?" She faced him.

  "Yeah." He turned to look at her and back to the road. A few minutes later Seymour dropped Leila off at home. "See you tomorrow."

  "Count on it." She gave a little smile and waved.

  Seymour drove off, thinking she was probably the most levelheaded cop he knew, including himself. And also the best looking, which may have been the problem. He loved her new hairstyle, a short bob with sloping edges. Of course he kept his compliments in check, n
ot wanting to make either of them uncomfortable in what was a good working relationship. Partnering up with Leila might not have been his first choice, but she'd earned his respect and taught him a few things along the way.

  Seymour took the Kahekili Highway to the place he was renting in central Maui. Unlike the resort areas on the west and south sides of Maui, there wasn't much here to excite tourists. The fact that real people like him lived and worked in central Maui made it more to his liking, aside from living alone for the time being.

  He would've preferred going to the house he once shared with his wife, Mele. That was before he screwed up, got caught, and was kicked out four months ago. She had yet to file for divorce, but since there was virtually no real communication between them, he feared it was only a matter of time.

  When they did talk, it was mostly about their eight-year-old daughter, Akela. They had adopted her when she was less than a month old after learning that Mele was unable to have children. Akela was the one thing in his life Seymour was most proud of. He hated having to disappoint her. But he was a cop and had been for twenty of his forty-six years. Someday Akela would understand that people like him were needed to go after the bad guys in the world. Or at least within Hawaii. Until then, he would continue to try and balance the things most important to him.

  Seymour thought about the crime that left two doctors dead. There was nothing more to be done tonight other than hope they caught a break and made an arrest.

  As to what drove the killer to taking the two lives was pure conjecture at this point. But it didn't mean he wasn't up to some guesswork. Obviously the victims thought they had the perfect place for their affair.

  Well, they were dead wrong.

  They had ticked someone off. Or maybe one had been targeted and the other was just collateral damage.

  Either way, a killer was on the loose and that was always cause for concern for you never knew what one might do next after experiencing their first kill and finding it agreed with them.

  * * *

  Read the entire MURDER IN MAUI, available in eBook, audio, and print. The book is also available in the MURDER IN HAWAII MYSTERIES 3-BOOK BUNDLE by R. Barri Flowers, in Kindle, Nook, iTunes, and Google.

  # # #

  The following are bonus excerpts from the private investigator island mystery

  MURDER IN HONOLULU: A Skye Delaney Mystery

  By R. Barri Flowers

  Chapter One

  The name's Skye McKenzie Delaney. I'm part of the twenty-first century breed of licensed private investigators who live by their wits, survive on instincts, and take each case as though it may be their last. The fact that I double as a security consultant for companies in and around the city of Honolulu, where I reside, gives me financial backup not afforded to all private eyes. This notwithstanding, I take my work as an investigator of everything from cats stuck in trees to missing persons to crimes the police can't or won't touch very seriously. If not, I wouldn't be putting my heart, soul, and body into this often thankless job.

  I also happen to be happily divorced—or at least no longer pining for my ex—and not afraid to get my hands dirty if necessary in my business. I get along with most people, but won't take any crap from anyone should it come my way.

  Before I became a security consultant/private eye, I used to be a homicide cop for the Honolulu Police Department. Stress, fatigue, burnout, and a real desire to get into something that could provide more financial security and flexible hours, without the downside and depression of police work and know-it-all authority figures, convinced me to change careers.

  During my six years on the force, I spent my nights earning a Master's Degree in Criminal Justice Administration. I'm hoping to get my Ph.D. someday when I no longer need to work for a living and can devote my time to further educating myself. In the meantime, I'm getting an honorary doctorate in private detectiveology, where every case can be a real learning experience.

  On and off the job, I carry a .40 caliber or 9-millimeter pistol Smith and Wesson—depending on my mood. And I'm not afraid to use either one if I have to, as it sure beats the alternative of ending up as just another private dick on a cold slab in the morgue.

  If I were to describe myself character-wise, the words that come to mind are feminine, adventurous yet conservative, streetwise though I often rely on intellect to get me over the hump, and kick-ass tough when duty calls.

  I've been told on more than one occasion that I'm attractive—even beautiful—and sexy as hell. I leave that for others to decide, but I'm definitely in great shape at five-eight, thanks to a near obsession with running and swimming, along with not overdoing it with calories. I usually wear my long blonde hair in a ponytail. My contacts make my eyes seem greener than they really are.

  I recently celebrated my thirty-fifth birthday. All right, in truth, it wasn't much of a celebration. I spent the entire day holed up in my house with my dog, Ollie, contemplating the future and happy to put much of my past behind me. That included my ex-husband, Carter Delaney, whose greatest contribution to my life and times was making me realize that no man was worth sacrificing one's own identity and integrity, even if it meant losing him in the process.

  I did lose Carter five years ago, after deciding I had no desire to share him with his mistress (and probably others I didn't know about). It was a decision I firmly stand by today and am definitely the better for.

  At least I convinced myself that was the case even as I came face to face with the subject in question on a muggy afternoon at the end of July. I had just filed away some papers when he walked into my office literally out of the blue. It was his first visit to my office since I joined the ranks of private eyes. I had once worked for the man as a security consultant. That turned into lust, sex, love, marriage, and divorce, and now we were little more than distant acquaintances.

  The tremulous half-smile that played on Carter's lips told me that he was not entirely comfortable being there. I felt just as awkward for probably the same reason: the ex-spouse syndrome, which would forever keep a wall of regrets and painful memories between us, thick as molasses.

  Never mind the fact that Carter Delaney was still every bit the physical specimen I had fallen in love with another lifetime ago. Tall, fit, handsome, and perennially tanned with dark hair and gray eyes, he almost looked as if he had just stepped out of the pages of Good Looking Digest. Though it was hotter than hell outside, he was decked out in an Italian navy designer suit and wing-tipped burgundy leather shoes. He glanced at the expensive watch on his wrist as if he needed to be somewhere else.

  At thirty-eight, Carter Delaney was a successful businessman. A former Honolulu prosecutor in the career criminal division, Carter had walked away from the job after excelling at it for the lure of cold hard cash in the world of commerce. He had turned his smarts and acumen into a successful Internet-based international trade company.

  It was during the early stages of this success that I entered the picture. Carter had hired me, wanting to have the best security devices for both his home and business. The rest, as they say, is history.

  At least it was.

  We had managed to avoid running into each other for nearly a year now, which suited me just fine. I wasn't looking for history to ever repeat itself, so quite naturally my curiosity was piqued as to why he was here now. Rather than appear too overeager, I decided to wait and let him take the lead.

  "Hi," I said tonelessly as I eased back into my chair and scooted it up to my gray workstation desk. I shuffled some papers to at least give the guise of being busy. In fact, I was going through somewhat of a dry spell right now with the sluggish economy and all. This was particularly true on the private eye side of things, where potential clients seemed more willing to go it alone or rely on an overworked criminal justice system to solve their problems.

  I wondered if Carter was here for a social call or if he was looking to hire me as a security consultant again.

  "Nice office," he said, though
the words seemed to squeeze through his tight-lipped smile.

  I agreed with his assessment, as I'd paid enough for the roomy one-woman, air-conditioned unit in a high rent downtown office building that had all the tools of the private eye trade.

  Carter hadn't taken his eyes off me since entering the office. It made me just a little uncomfortable. I wondered if he was trying to undress me with his penetrating gaze, as if he hadn't seen the merchandise before.

  Either way, it was not winning him any brownie points, if there were any left to win.

  I glared at him and said dryly: "Glad you like what you see."

  He immediately turned his eyes downward, as though searching for something. When he looked at me again, Carter's smile had faded as he said, clearly for my benefit: "I've been meaning to stop by, see how things were going, but between work and—"

  I was only too happy to bail him out in this instance, though I had the feeling he was stalling. For what, I had no earthly idea.

  "Don't torture yourself, Carter," I told him. "It's a little late for a guilt trip. Or have you forgotten that we're not married anymore?"

  At least not to each other. Six months to the day after our divorce was finalized, he and the mistress tied the knot. Rumor had it she was pregnant at the time. Rarely did I take rumors seriously but, sure enough, the newlyweds did produce a baby girl shortly thereafter. I didn't want kids—at least not until I had done the career thing first. Carter didn't want to wait for me or my career.

  To this day, we've never discussed whether that was the beginning of the end or just the beginning of his wandering eyes. Either way, it did little to erase my self-doubts, what might have been, or what had transpired since.

  "Like it or not, a part of us will always be married, Skye," he declared, "at least in spirit."

  "I don't think so," I said, sneering. "In spirit or otherwise. What's done is done."

  "Maybe you're right." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

  "Do you plan to tell me why the hell you're here?" I decided to be blunt, since he seemed willing to take his own sweet time. And in my business, time was money. He didn't have to know that it was only trickling in at the moment. "Or am I supposed to guess what reason my ex-husband might have for paying me an office visit?" I asked.