Page 28

28

LEI

Lei was just pulling out of the gate of Haiku School after dropping Kiet off on her way to work the next morning when her phone rang. She used hands-free to answer. “Sergeant Texeira.”

“Sergeant, this is Dispatch. We have a report of a code ten-sixty-seven at the main heiau in Hana. Captain Omura has authorized a helicopter for you and the team since we’re time-sensitive on this.”

Lei’s heart picked up speed. “On my way.” She reached for her cop light, put it on the dash, turned on her portable siren, and pushed the accelerator down. Once at the station, she and Pono alerted the MEs and TG to meet them at the helipad MPD used at the airport.

On impulse, Lei picked up her handset in her work cubicle and called Katie’s Cave. “Investigator McHenry, have you ever been to an active murder scene? We’ve got a body out in Hana. It’s time you had this experience. We’re taking a chopper, so get here ASAP.”

Lei hung up on Katie’s whoop of delight, hoping the kid was professionally dressed today. If not, she’d have the opportunity to learn the hard way that miniskirts didn’t work on the job—if she hadn’t already figured that out.

Soon their team was assembled on the tarmac at the airport beside the chopper: Lei, Pono, Dr. Tanaka and Dr. Gregory with their rugged gurney and equipment, TG with his camera and crime kit.

Katie had arrived dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans, glittery Converse sneakers, and a hoodie with Hello Kitty on it. Her hair was in Princess Leia side buns today, and her eyes sparkled with excitement behind purple glasses. Lei decided not to speculate what she had on under the sweatshirt since she’d had the good sense to wear it. “Chances are good this body is David Steinbrenner,” she announced.

“That’s what we’re all thinking, but not saying. Try to rein in your enthusiasm,” Lei said dryly. “Rule one of investigative work: don’t assume. Detailed reports are not safe to share on cell phone or radio, so Dispatch has only told us there’s been a homicide.”

“But still, who else would it be?” Katie said, hopping into the front of the extra-large passenger chopper with seating for six. “Hope you don’t mind if I sit up front.”

“Yeah, I do,” their pilot said. “I’m giving Dr. Gregory the front seat this time. Maybe being able to watch the horizon will help his airsickness.”

“Thanks, man,” Dr. Gregory brandished his wristbands. “I took Dramamine as well as wore these this time. Fingers crossed I’ll be okay.”

“We all hope you will be,” said Dr. Tanaka, with an eye roll. “Good thing you only had coffee by the time we got the call for this flight. I’ve got an energy bar for you after we land.” The two were an odd couple that seemed to work.

Once they took off, the flight to Hana only took twenty minutes; it would take the crime scene van over an hour to catch up to them, winding along the narrow scenic road on the coast.

It was early enough in the day that the gusty wind that was often an issue for flying on this side of the island wasn’t up yet. As always, Lei enjoyed the lush green valleys, waterfalls, and stunning cliffs of the East side of Maui. If only her journey out to Hana was for pure pleasure. “Note to self: take Stevens out here for a getaway weekend sometime soon,” Lei murmured, gazing at the Three Bears waterfall with its picturesque bridge.

“What?” Katie asked from beside her. She tapped her bulky headphones. “I thought you said something.”

“Just promising myself I’ll get out here for something other than crime,” Lei said. “Stevens and I are overdue for a staycation.”

The helicopter descended into an open field on the edge of a bluff overlooking the ocean, the roar of the rotors cutting through the quiet morning air. The lush greenery of Hana stretched in every direction; towering cliffs and vibrant jungle surrounded them as if they were entering a hidden world on the other side of the planet. Early morning mist clung to the treetops, and the rich, earthy scent of damp soil and vegetation filled the air, mingling with the salty tang from the nearby ocean.

Lei felt a pang of appreciation for the beauty of Maui—and this part of it that seemed untouched by time, wild and sacred in equal measure.

The Pi‘ilanihale Heiau loomed before them, a massive structure built of lichen-covered lava rocks. Its ancient stones gleamed with dew, shimmering under the weak sunlight that filtered through a thick canopy of trees surrounding the site.

The structure was colossal—nearly fifty feet high and over four hundred feet long, its terraced sides rising like layers of a step pyramid. Vines and roots from nearby trees crept up its sides, as though nature itself was trying to reclaim this sacred place.

As the rotors slowed, Lei hopped out of the helicopter, her athletic shoes sinking slightly into the soft, damp earth beneath her; the ground was spongy with the morning’s moisture. The air carried the faint scent of tropical flowers and wet vegetation, but underneath it all, Lei could sense something darker—a tension that seemed to seep from the very stones. As the chopper’s noise settled into stillness, the sound of typical Hawaii birds—mynahs, doves, cardinals, Japanese white-eyes, and zebra finches—filled the air.

Pono, Katie, and TG followed Lei and they all helped the medical examiners unload their equipment from the chopper’s cargo area in the tail section. The distant sound of crashing waves against the cliffs added a rhythmic backbeat to the otherwise still morning.

Lei led the team as they approached the heiau , following a rocky path leading upward toward the stone structure. She felt the weight of the place: sacred. Ancient. There was an unmistakable sense of history here, a reverence that made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. The air seemed heavier the closer they got, as though forgotten gods were watching, waiting.

Firefighters, the first responders on-scene, stood at the base of the terraced heiau , their bright yellow uniforms and reflective stripes sharp against the weathered stones. A few of them had taken off their helmets, wiping sweat from their brows as they talked in low voices, their expressions grim. The captain, a broad-shouldered man with a streak of gray in his hair, turned as Lei and her team approached.

“The body’s up there,” he said, nodding toward the higher terraces. His voice was calm, but there was something in his face that spoke of the gruesome scene they were about to witness. “We isolated the area, didn’t touch anything. Just waiting for you.”

“Mahalo.” Lei nodded her thanks and turned to take in the full scale of the heiau . The lava rocks that made up the sacred site were worn smooth in some places by centuries of wind and rain, but still large and formidable. The terraced sides rose steeply, creating a staircase effect that seemed to lead to the sky, though a thick tree canopy partially obscured the view above.

“I didn’t have a clue this place existed,” Dr. Gregory said, his voice hushed with awe. “What an amazing site.”

“This is Pi‘ilanihale Heiau ,” the captain said, his voice low. “Largest heiau in Hawaii and maybe the largest in all of Polynesia. This whole area is part of the National Tropical Botanical Gardens now, but back in the day, this was a place of worship. Some say it was a luakini heiau , used for human sacrifice.”

Katie surveyed the structure, and her voice was respectful when she spoke. “I studied this heiau in school, but I’ve never been here before. It’s huge. And it’s, like, a thousand years old?”

“Close to that,” the captain replied, his gaze moving over the towering stone structure. “Our ancestors built these places for worship and ceremonies. Some believe they performed sacrifices here, but there’s a lot of debate about that. Scholars say the missionaries misunderstood the language. Words have multiple meanings, and context is everything in the Hawaiian language.”

Lei watched her protégée as Katie glanced at the terraces above, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Maybe the killer knows that history. Maybe that’s why this happened here.”

Lei didn’t answer, but she shared the same thought. Each of the victims had been killed on sacred ground, and whoever had done this had chosen the Pi‘ilanihale Heiau for a reason. The killer had a flair for the dramatic.

The climb up to the body was steep, the ancient lava rocks uneven beneath Lei’s shoes. She climbed carefully, her heart pounding not just from the exertion but from the dread and anticipation of what awaited them.

At the top, the air was cooler. A faint breeze had come up, blowing away the mist that clung to the trees. The scent of damp moss and decaying leaves was stronger here, mixed with another smell, more metallic. Blood.

Lei’s stomach tightened as they reached the scene.

Blood had run in black rivulets down the altar rock. A body, horribly mangled, lay on a large flat-topped boulder at the top of the highest terrace. The victim’s face and trunk were unrecognizable—obliterated by blows from the stone-headed club that lay beside him. The club’s head was dark with dried blood, the ti leaves around the body streaked with rusty crimson.

The scene was grotesque and ritualistic, as though the killer had followed some ancient script for a sacrifice.

Lei approached, taking pictures with her phone for her own reference as TG moved in with his professional digital camera and flash.

Katie, standing beside Lei, gagged suddenly. She quickly turned away, her hand covering her mouth, and her footsteps crunched on the stone as she walked a few paces, taking deep breaths of the humid air. Lei watched in concern until Katie turned back to face the scene, her face pale but resolute.

Lei could almost hear the sickening thuds of the blows that had shattered the man’s skull. It would have taken a good deal of force to reduce the victim’s head and upper torso to such a pulp.

The body was dressed in a malo loincloth as the others had been. The victim had been lean but muscular, with graying chest hair and pale skin. A blood-soaked ti leaf lei was draped across his chest, its once-vibrant green leaves soaked with gore.

As with the others, an offering had been placed between the victim’s legs—a bundle wrapped in ti leaves, tied with a cord.

“Different cause of death than the others,” TG observed aloud.

“Yes.” Lei snapped a few more pictures as the medical examiners set up a tent over the body, protecting it from the potential threat posed by a bank of clouds that were beginning to roll in from the ocean.

“This is an escalation in the level of violence,” Lei said to the team. “He cut the others’ throats. That wasn’t enough for him this time.”

“Looks like,” Pono agreed from where he stood.

“Any bets on that being the murder weapon?” Katie asked, her voice shaky as she pointed to the bloodied club.

“ Lā‘au pālau ,” the local police sergeant said as he joined them. Lei glanced at the man, recognizing Sammy’s familiar face from past cases. His expression was somber, his voice low as he spoke. “That’s a traditional Hawaiian long club. I studied the old weapons when I was younger. There’s a kahu —an elder—out here in Hana who teaches the lua .”

“ Lua ?” Katie asked, still pale but curious. “That’s the old Hawaiian fighting arts, right?”

Sammy nodded. “Yeah. Ancient and deadly.”

“I thought the other bodies were bad—but this killing shows more rage. The vic’s whole head and upper body are obliterated,” Lei said.

Katie seemed to be determined to overcome her squeamishness. She pulled out a measuring tape from her backpack and approached the body. “Let’s see how tall he was,” she said, her voice steadier now as she extended the tape measure toward the victim’s feet. “Five-eight, maybe one hundred forty-five pounds. Caucasian male. Gray hair. He used to work out regularly.” Her eyes met Lei’s with certainty. “I’ve seen a picture of the Kuleana team. Relative to their height, I know who this guy is: David Steinbrenner.”

“Not a big surprise.” Lei said. “Won’t his driver’s license be in that offering?” she asked TG, who had been carefully photographing the scene.

“If it’s like the others, yes. I’ll do the honors.” TG gently lifted the ti leaf bundle and carried it to where he’d spread out a white plastic cloth. TG unwrapped the bundle, his gloved hands careful and precise. Inside was a blood-smeared wallet. He flipped it open, revealing a driver’s license. He held it up.

David Steinbrenner.

Lei exhaled. “So it is him.”

TG held up a piece of the brick that looked the same as the others. “Consistent with the other scenes.”

Pono cursed under his breath, his large frame tense. “This makes him the third Kuleana executive to die. Whoever’s doing this is sending a very clear message. Wish we knew exactly what it was.”

“If we did, we might know the killer’s identity.” Lei stared at the body, the distant sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs suddenly louder in her ears. Steinbrenner’s death had been meticulously planned, and the killer had chosen this sacred, ancient place for a reason. “Who found the body?” Lei asked the Hana police sergeant.

“That guy chatting with the firefighters,” Sammy said, pointing. Lei frowned—the witness was familiar. She knew this older man with a beard from a photo in the case file.

“That’s Randy Hollister, the photographer,” Pono said, a tone of surprise in his voice. “Katie and I interviewed him on Haleakala.”

“You take the lead with him, then,” Lei said, picking her way across the steep terrain.

The two of them approached the witness until Katie bounced past them toward the older man with an exuberant air—she seemed about to hug the photographer like a long-lost friend. “Randy! What are you doing here? Where’s Jeff?”

“Investigator McHenry!” Lei rapped out. “We’re about to interview this witness. Please remember that your role today is to observe.”

Katie fell back with a sheepish, “Sorry.” Pono then greeted the confused looking photographer and introduced Lei. “Tell us about what you found, Mr. Hollister.”

“Like I told the other guys, I got out here around ten in the morning, right after the Garden opened,” Hollister said. “I’m a regular at photogenic locations in Hana and am currently shooting images for a Maui calendar. This heiau is on my list of destinations. I posted it on my website ahead of time; I can share that with you, so you know I didn’t have anything to do with the murder.”

“Yes, please,” Pono said. “We will need your alibi.”

Hollister was sweating; his skin was pale and greasy. He had to know that being the first to call in two murders wasn’t a good look. The photographer applied himself to scrolling on his phone. Sunlight caught on the silver hairs of his beard. A moment later, he held up his device.

Lei and Pono moved in closer to look; each month on a website was filled with locations, and sure enough, the Pi‘ilanihale Heiau was listed for this week. “Send a link to my email,” Lei told him, and rattled off the address. A moment later, he’d completed that task.

“Anyway. I was taking pictures from down there,” Hollister said, pointing toward the ocean, “and saw this grayish, white patch on the rocks at the top of the heiau that didn’t look right. I pulled out my telephoto lens and zoomed in, thought ‘oh, shit.’ I climbed up there, close enough to confirm it was another body. I never went up to the crime scene. Soon as I was sure, I went back to the office and told them. They made the calls.”

The Tropical Gardens director was standing nearby and confirmed the times the calls were made.

“Was anyone else in and out of here this morning?” Lei asked him.

“One couple in a jeep, one family in a convertible. No trucks or vans. And we don’t have a security camera,” the director said. “Everyone paid in cash, except the witness who used his card.”

“Any good-sized guys, alone?”

“Nope.”

“Do you inspect the grounds before you open in the morning?”

“We drive around, but we don’t hike all the trails. No one went down to the heiau this morning, or last night before we closed. I have no idea how long the body’s been there.”

Lei thanked and dismissed him. Then she asked Randy Hollister to stop by the station later to give an official statement. “Where were you yesterday? We’re going to need to verify your movements from the time the victim went missing.”

“We’re also going to need a DNA sample and fingerprints from you,” Pono told Hollister. “To rule you out, especially since you were involved with the discovery of the other body.”

“No problem,” Hollister said. “Happy to help.”

Pono opened his crime kit and did the collection on the spot as Hollister recounted his movements and Lei took notes on them. She then turned to Katie and Pono. “Anything else you want to ask Mr. Hollister?”

“Nope,” Pono said. “We’ll talk further at the station when he comes in to go on record.”

As the three of them were walking back to the helicopter, Sammy sidled up beside Katie.

“Did you really jump out of your vehicle to get a perp while you were on patrol?” he asked quietly. “And let the patrol car roll by you and crash?”

“Yeah, but I nailed that jerk,” Katie said, slamming a fist into the palm of her hand. Sammy laughed as he walked away.

“This is how legends are made,” Pono whispered out of the side of his mouth to Lei, and she stifled a smile.

A little comic relief felt good after what they’d seen that morning.