Beside Still Waters (Psalm 23 Mysteries)

  He blinked first. Slowly he stood up and pocketed his knife. “Okay, we’ll play this your way. But if you so much as breathe wrong, I will kill you in the most unpleasant way I can think of. And trust me, you don’t want to see just how creative I can get.”

  She nodded once, to show that she understood. There was a man she didn’t recognize with Mr. Black and he came forward and hoisted her to her feet. He was a large, Hawaiian man, more muscle than fat. She studied his face, wondering what manner of man he was and if there was any way she could manipulate him into showing some pity. His expression was impossible to read, though.

  “Can you please just not drug me again?” she asked Mr. Black.

  ~

  Jeremiah arrived at the Royal Hawaiian, which the taxi driver was quick to inform him was a famous old hotel, a landmark. The hotel was pink. Jeremiah registered that fact with mild surprise as he leaped out of the car and ran for the lobby.

  The lobby was large and open on the far end. Jeremiah scanned the area quickly and then made his way to the elevators. He had no way of knowing if Marge would actually be in her room, but that’s where Al was heading. Jeremiah just hoped he wasn’t too late to save her or catch him.

  When the elevator let him off he headed in the direction of her room, moving fast, but with heightened caution. Al was armed and a desperate man with a gun was always a dangerous, unpredictable man.

  When he found the room, he paused for a moment, listening. He didn’t hear anything and he finally reached out and knocked on the door, making sure to stand well to one side. A few moments later it was opened by a large, amiable looking woman who blinked at him in curiosity.

  “Ma’am, my name is Jeremiah. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about the accident you had the other day with the life preserver,” he said, staring over her shoulder and trying to get a look into the room. The way the room was angled, though, he could only see part of it.

  “Oh, of course, such wonderful timing,” she said, standing back to let him enter.

  “Why is that?” he asked, walking forward, senses alert.

  “A gentleman from the crew who was there that day is here right now. I’m sure he could help answer your questions, too.”

  She turned and led the way into the room. A man was standing by the table, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He looked at Jeremiah, his posture tense, alert, sizing the rabbi up even as Jeremiah was sizing him up.

  “What a coincidence,” Jeremiah said.

  “It’s rather amazing. Al just got here.”

  “Hello, Al,” Jeremiah said, struggling not to tip his hand while Marge was standing between them.

  Al dipped his head briefly in acknowledgement.

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” Jeremiah said.

  Al shrugged. “I felt bad that I couldn’t visit her in the hospital. After all, I was the one who gave her the life preserver. I still can’t figure out what could have been wrong with it to make it sink like that. Bad luck.”

  “He brought me these beautiful flowers,” Marge said, beaming from ear-to-ear.

  “That was nice of him,” Jeremiah said.

  “It was the least I could do,” Al said. “Besides, it’s not good for business when a tourist gets hurt.”

  There was something about the way that he said ‘tourist’ that caught Jeremiah’s attention. There was a certain level of vehemence, resentment almost bordering on hatred when he used the word.

  “Well, I certainly had the tar scared out of me, but I wasn’t hurt, not really,” Marge said. “Honestly, I wish everyone would stop fussing.”

  Jeremiah shrugged. “We just want to make sure nothing like that happens again.”

  “I think we can all agree about that,” Al said.

  Jeremiah stood there. Was it possible he had misinterpreted the reason for Al’s visit to Marge? It seemed unlikely. He still hadn’t been able to pin him to the smugglers beyond a shadow of a doubt. But that kind of proof was required by police and attorneys and jurists. Jeremiah was none of those, but he was more than willing to be Al’s executioner.

  He stared hard at Al. Al just looked at him with wide, curious eyes. He was a good actor, that much Jeremiah had to give him.

  “So, what can I do for you, young man?” Marge asked Jeremiah.

  Jeremiah answered, but kept his eyes on Al. “I’m here to ask you a few questions about your accident.”

  “Oh, but I already told everyone at the hospital, and answered questions for that nice representative from the cruise company. I simply don’t know how that life preserver could have failed like that.”

  “I’m not so much interested in the life preserver as I am something else.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m trying to find out what happened to another passenger on the cruise. Cindy Preston.”

  And at the mention of her name, Al turned a shade paler. Jeremiah lunged forward even as Al pulled his gun.

  He knocked the gun from the other man’s hand and it went arcing through the air. He heard Marge scream, but he didn’t have time to deal with her as he lunged forward and grabbed Al by the throat. He swept the man’s legs out from under him and followed him down to the ground, putting his knee into Al’s sternum with enough force that he heard a rib crack.

  Marge was still screaming and out of the corner of his eye he saw her move toward the phone. The last thing he needed was security or the police arriving before he’d found out what he needed to know.

  He turned his head just slightly. “Sit!” he barked at her.

  She froze like a deer in the headlights, staring at him in terror.

  “This man came here to kill you so that you couldn’t talk to anyone anymore about that damaged life preserver,” he said. “Now, sit down and be quiet while I get some answers from him.”

  Marge gasped and sank down on the edge of the bed. Satisfied that she would stay there, at least for a while, Jeremiah turned his attention back to Al.

  “Where is Cindy?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know!” Al sputtered.

  “Try again,” Jeremiah said, putting more pressure on the man’s chest.

  “How should I know? I don’t even know her last name!”

  “Did she see you, is that why you tried to kill her?”

  “Yes, I had to. She was going to ruin everything,” Al said. “I rigged the life preserver.”

  “And when you failed to kill her what happened next?” Jeremiah asked.

  “I freaked out. I was afraid someone would figure out what I had done.”

  “And that’s why you came to kill Marge?”

  Al nodded frantically. “I didn’t want to, but she’s just a stupid haole and the cause is bigger than her, bigger than me.”

  “And what about Cindy?”

  “I don’t know! I don’t know where she went.”

  “She was kidnapped by your cohorts.”

  Al shook his head fiercely. “No one knew about her. I didn’t tell. I figured she was a stupid tourist, didn’t know anything, but when she recognized me on that boat from the night before-”

  “The night before?” Jeremiah demanded, shaking Al hard.

  Al nodded frantically.

  “Where exactly did she see you?” Jeremiah demanded.

  “On the north shore, at the resort site. She could have ruined everything.”

  Jeremiah’s mind was whirling. Cindy hadn’t seen this guy retrieving drugs from the water at Pearl Harbor. She’d seen him hours later on the opposite side of the island, but doing what? Cause, he’d mentioned a cause.

  “Tell me exactly what she saw you doing,” Jeremiah demanded.

  “She saw us planting the bodies. When she saw me on the ship the next morning she said she thought I was an archaeologist. I told her lots of people had two jobs and we help out where we could. I panicked, okay? This is bigger than just me.”

  Jeremiah was even more confused than he had been a moment before. “So, she saw you pla
nting the bodies at the resort site?” he asked, struggling to figure out what exactly that meant without showing his own ignorance on the subject and risking Al clamping down.

  He took a stab in the dark. “So, you tried to kill her. Did you kill Uncle as well?”

  Tears sprang into Al’s eyes. “That wasn’t me, man. That was Kimo. I begged him not to. Uncle was one of our biggest supporters. He contributed so much money to the cause.”

  “What cause?” Jeremiah asked.

  And then he could see the dawning light in Al’s eyes as the other realized that Jeremiah knew far less than he thought and maybe he should shut up fast. Jeremiah didn’t want to give him a chance to make that choice.

  He slammed Al’s head hard against the floor. The smell of blood filled the air as the skin on the man’s scalp split.

  “Stop, please!” Al begged.

  “The pain stops only when you’ve told me everything I want to know.”

  Jeremiah threw a sharp glance at Marge who had started to edge toward the telephone. “Stay put,” he hissed.

  She nodded and seemed to curl in on herself.

  “Hawaii for Hawaiians,” Al said. “The tourists are ruining the islands and we had to protect them, particularly the north shore. We had to stop them from creating that new resort. Uncle contributed a lot of money, trying to get it shut down legally and then funding us as we sabotaged the project.”

  “So, what went wrong?”

  “Nothing worked. Then Kimo had a great idea. His cousin’s brother-in-law works for one of the archaeology firms on the island. He knew that if enough bodies were found on the property they’d have to shut the project down, that the ground would be sacred.”

  “I’ve been hearing about that on the radio,” Marge interjected suddenly. “Everyone seems very upset.”

  “So, you couldn’t find enough bodies on the site and you started planting bodies?” Jeremiah asked, beginning to put the pieces together.

  “Yeah, but they have to be like, old. So we did some research and then we dug them up from some different places around the island and we’ve been burying them there. It was perfect. But then Uncle found out and he went all pupule, telling us we had desecrated the bodies, that it was disrespectful. We told him we would put them back once it was over, but he was furious. He was going to tell the authorities. He was going to ruin everything we had worked for.”

  “So Kimo killed him.”

  “Yes. The cause is bigger than anyone, than everyone,” Al said.

  “And Cindy saw you moving some of those bodies?”

  “Yes. Then when she recognized me...” Al drifted off.

  “And you have no idea who kidnapped her? Could it be Kimo?”

  Al’s eyes bulged. “She’s been kidnapped?”

  Jeremiah nodded.

  “I didn’t know. And I never told Kimo or any of the others about her. They couldn’t know.”

  “I found drugs and money stashed in your kitchen,” Jeremiah said.

  “Oh man, that’s the last of the money Uncle gave us. He gave Kimo drugs, too. I tell him they’re no good, but he never believes me.”

  “So you don’t know anything about the drug trade around Pearl Harbor?”

  Al shook his head and there was truth in his eyes.

  Jeremiah felt like he had landed back at square one. He had found Cindy’s would be killer, but he still had no clue who could have kidnapped her. Anger flashed through him white hot and it was all he could do not to snap Al’s neck for having tried to kill Cindy.

  Instead he stood to his feet and turned to Marge. “Don’t worry, I’m calling the cops.”

  He dialed Kapono. “You all patched up?”

  “Just getting out of the emergency room now. I told them they couldn’t hold me. What do you have?”

  “The name of Uncle’s killer and a conspirator in a massive grave robbing and sabotage ring on the north shore.”

  There was silence for a moment and then Kapono said something in Hawaiian. “You don’t mess around, do you?”

  “No.”

  “You’re just like her. You’re on the island a day and you find more trouble than most do in a lifetime.”

  “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

  “Did he say where they were keeping Cindy?”

  “That’s the bad news. These guys aren’t the ones that took her.”

  There was more Hawaiian on the other end of the line. “Okay tell me where you are,” Kapono finally asked.

  Jeremiah gave him the hotel and room number.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen. And I’ve got something for you that just came in.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The name of the taxi driver we’ve been looking for.”

  ~

  An hour later as the seas swelled around the boat she was in Cindy was regretting her decision. Her stomach was roiling, but at least this time she was tied up on deck and not down below. Once they had been out of sight of land Mr. Black had allowed her to come up and take in some of the sea air as he put it.

  She still had no clue what island she had been on and when she asked he refused to tell her. She just prayed that when they made it to Oahu she found a way to keep stalling him. She didn’t know just how long she could keep up the charade of being the courier and that she had hidden whatever it was that he was looking for.

  Again she went over everything she had seen in Uncle’s restaurant, trying to figure out what it could be that he wanted. It was possible whoever killed Uncle had taken it or that the police had bagged it as some sort of evidence. There were too many things she didn’t know or understand to help her continue to lie to him effectively.

  He was standing, leaning against the rail, a mai tai in his hand, looking for all the world like a rich playboy instead of a psychopathic criminal.

  “Did you kill Uncle?” she asked suddenly, surprising herself.

  He turned and looked at her. “You don’t know who killed Uncle?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, hoping it was okay to admit that.

  “Then that’s something we have in common. However, I’d very much like to know. I don’t appreciate people killing my colleagues without my leave.”

  “Do you think it was random?” she asked.

  He snorted. “No more than you do. No, it was a targeted attack. Idiots probably hoped to put a dent in my business. Although, I long suspected I wasn’t the only one in the islands that Uncle was working for.”

  She remembered what Kapono had told her about his suspicions. “You think he was laundering money for someone else, too?”

  “It stands to reason.”

  “Then maybe one of them killed him.”

  “It’s possible. Uncle might have crossed one of his other business partners, but I don’t think so. He was a crook, but he was always straight in his dealings with me. He could have retired a very wealthy man if he wanted to. All he had to do was keep playing straight with everyone for a couple of more years.”

  “You actually believe in honor among thieves?” she asked.

  He smiled, a chilling sight. “Thieves? No. Businessmen? Yes. Uncle never took anything that didn’t belong to him, at least not that I know. He provided a service to select people who needed it and charged a fee for that service. A fee I happily paid for fifteen years.”

  “He didn’t seem like a rich man,” Cindy ventured. At the very least if his restaurant was his front she would have thought he would have put a little more into it. Then again, maybe he lived in a fancy house or kept his wealth well-hidden.

  Mr. Black shrugged. “I don’t know what he did with his money. That was business. All I care about is what he did with my money.” He gave her a hard look. “And that’s our business.”

  Cindy wasn’t sure how much further to push her luck in discussing all this with Mr. Black. How many questions could she ask before he began to suspect that she had been telling the truth in the beginning, that she really did have no idea what h
e was looking for or where it was?

  He was laundering money through Uncle’s restaurant. Think, what could it be that he actually wanted from Uncle?

  She wracked her brain. Money was an obvious answer. She remembered the cash in the cash register and the money in the tip jar. Maybe the killer hadn’t bothered because it was small change compared to what he was after. But would Uncle really have had stacks of cash sitting around waiting to give to Mr. Black or one of his lackeys? It seemed unlikely to her. On television drug dealers always did deals in cash. But this was real life, and, as Mr. Black had put it, a business transaction, hiding the true source of the income. Maybe it wasn’t done the same way.

  Maybe it was done by checks or money orders. There were lots of ways for people to transfer money without having to use briefcases of cash like in some gangster film. Maybe they used one of those methods. They could even have made the transfer by credit card for all she knew.

  She blinked as a thought hit her. Or by wire transfers.

  And that’s when she remembered the business card that the taxi driver had given her. The one that he had told her to show to Uncle. The one that didn’t look exactly like a normal business card but had a long series of numbers on it. She gasped as she realized Mr. Black was right. She had been in possession of what he wanted even though she wasn’t any longer.

  But she knew who was. She squeezed her eyes shut. How was she going to convince Mr. Black that the information he wanted was in a police station?

  “Something wrong?” she heard him ask.

  “I’m getting more seasick, and I think I’m going to throw up,” she said. It was at least partially true.

  15

  True to his word, Kapono arrived in fifteen minutes. To Jeremiah, though, it seemed like an eternity while he waited to hear who the taxi driver was that had sent Cindy to Uncle’s. Marge and Al were both visibly relieved when the detective showed up.

  Kapono had clearly come straight from the hospital. In lieu of one shirt sleeve he had white bandages wrapped around his arm. He listened slack-jawed as Jeremiah explained everything to him. During several points in the narrative Marge nodded enthusiastically while Al just sat groaning on the floor.