Page 36

36

LEI

Early the next morning, so early that dawn was still a promise of the coming day on the other side of the vast mount of Haleakala, Lei drove her truck slowly past the driveway of Roger Nettle/Ronald Mank’s address, with Pono in the passenger seat. Katie had sent them the information about Roger Nettle/Ronald Mank overnight and they had reviewed on the way to their destination. By getting there early, they hoped to catch the suspect at home.

The place was a modest ranch in Wailuku in a planned neighborhood. Neat lawn, modest Areca palms, beige paint—the blackmailer was keeping a low profile.

Pono scanned the property as Lei was doing the same. Lei’s eyes narrowed as, through a glass panel window in the garage, she spotted the gleam of Mank’s white SUV parked inside.

“He’s in,” she told her partner. “Car’s in the garage.”

“Looks like.”

She and Pono were prepared for resistance. Lei’s ballistic vest rubbed against the tender skin on the insides of her upper arms. The Velcro was a little too tight and constricted her breathing like an old-fashioned corset.

Now that they were past the house, Lei drew in a deep breath and gusted it out, consciously relaxing, visualizing a calm and tidy arrest.

Ronald Mank was wanted in other states. He wouldn’t be getting out of jail once they had him in custody. They could take their time interviewing and uncover his role in the ‘Kapu Killer’ murders, as the media had dubbed them.

Lei parked further down the block; they didn’t want to alert Mank of their approach until the last minute. This was the kind of quiet residential neighborhood where everyone kept an eye on each other; a police visit was a noteworthy event.

Lei and Pono got out of the vehicle and backtracked, walking rapidly along the sidewalk, alert for any movement. Pono hurried around to the rear of the house to check the back door as Lei went to the front entry.

No sign of movement inside, no lights, no sound. She’d been in this job long enough to know that this could mean a lot of things. Lei rang the bell. Inside the house, she heard the faint peal of bells.

Nothing.

She rang again.

Still nothing.

Lei pounded on the door. “Open up. Police!”

No response.

She called the house’s landline. Faintly, she heard the sound of a ringing phone inside. A recording came on, asking her to leave a message.

Lei pounded and called again. Next door, on either side, lights came on as the neighbors woke.

Lei blew out a breath of frustration. The faint scent of cut grass in the morning air did nothing to ease the tension in her gut as Pono came back around to join her. “Back door was locked. No lights on inside anywhere that I could see.”

“His car’s here. He hasn’t shown up anywhere else. And after what Katie dug up last night? I’m sure he’s involved—somehow.”

Pono grunted in agreement, his gaze flicking toward the front door. “You think he’s gonna answer?”

Lei shook her head. “Doubt it.”

“So—exigent circumstances?” Pono’s brown eyes gleamed and he cracked his big knuckles. “He could’ve been taken by the ?Kapu Killer.’” If police believed a person was in imminent danger, breaking into a house to check on them was justified. “I’m in the mood for a window breaking or door-bashing.”

Lei put her hands on her hips. “Let’s think this through. If Mank’s gone and the car is in the garage, it could be like Goodwin. Maybe he’s been taken already. He could also have fled, especially after we took Beck Noble into custody.” She made eye contact with her partner. “If we break in without justification and find evidence he’s involved with the killings, we may have tainted the chain of evidence collection. Since he’s not here, I’d rather get a court order and a locksmith and do it the right way.”

Pono threw his head back and groaned. “I wanted to kick this front door in so bad.”

“You need coffee and a Danish, that’s what you need,” Lei said.

“I’m off sugar and carbs, dammit,” Pono said. They turned, heading back down the driveway.

“Then we’ll get you coffee and a hard-boiled egg at Minit Stop. Then we’ll go to Judge Medeiros’s house and see if we can get him to sign one of those fill-in-the-blank search warrants you’ve been bragging about having. We need to get inside, and I’m hoping we’ll find something important when we do and be able to use it to build the case, not just break it.”

* * *

Several hours later, caffeinated and fed, search warrant in hand, the pair returned to Mank’s house with the locksmith who worked on retainer for the police department.

Lei knocked and called, identifying herself as police as she had done before.

No answer.

She stepped aside and the locksmith moved forward with his tool kit. A few minutes later, he unlocked the front and garage doors and left.

Gloved up and ready to search, Lei and Pono entered, weapons drawn. Though fairly certain Mank was either gone or dead, entering a suspect’s house was always cause for caution.

The inside of the place was dark, the air thick with the smell of stale coffee and something faintly metallic. Lei’s senses were on high alert as she flicked on the lights. Pono moved beside her, his larger frame tense but steady. They split up and verified the house was clear, then reconvened in the entranceway. “Let’s both do a quick check and then split this up for a more in-depth search,” Lei said.

“Agreed.”

The living room was sparsely furnished with a set of matched furniture that had a “rented as a set” vibe. But it was the hallway to the back of the house that caught Lei’s eye.

Mounted on the wall was a collection of Hawaiian war weapons—intricately crafted spears, clubs, and knives. Lei’s breath caught as she recognized the unmistakable shape of a leiomano , the shark-tooth-edged club that had been used in two of the murders.

Her stomach tightened. “Check it, Pono.”

“Damn,” her partner hissed. He let out a low whistle, his eyes fixed on the display. “This guy’s got a whole armory.”

The pieces were replicas—but the resemblance to the murder weapons was too close to be coincidence. They were meticulously arranged on the wall as if part of a private museum. Some of them were worn and authentic-looking, others clearly modern recreations.

“Whoever chose these pieces knew their significance,” Lei said as she stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the weapons. One of the clubs—a lā‘au pālau —looked almost identical to the one used to kill David Steinbrenner. A flash of what she’d seen in the video made her skin crawl.

“We’ve got murder weapons,” Lei said under her breath. “Or at least, replicas of them.” She pointed. “Look. Three open spaces where weapons are missing.”

“Yup.”

The weapons cache and its missing spaces weren’t enough to prove Mank was the killer, but they were enough to tie him to the murders. And if he wasn’t the one swinging the club, then he likely knew who had.

Lei pulled out her phone again, her voice steady as she called Dispatch. “This is Sergeant Texeira. I need a BOLO put out on Ronald Mank, aka Roger Nettle, aka “Kahuna.” He may be armed and dangerous. I also need TG and the crime scene team over at his address, ASAP.”

Lei turned to Pono, who was still eyeing the weapons with a grim expression. This wall contained the most damning evidence they’d found so far, but there had to be something more in the house. DNA trace, a trophy from the bodies, something hard putting Mank at the crime scenes.

“What do you think?” Lei asked Pono. “Is he running, or hiding? Or is he dead somewhere, waiting for us to find him?”

“Don’t think he’s dead, or another weapon would be missing from the wall,” Pono said.

Lei nodded as she spun through the possibilities. Mank must have known the police were closing in. Maybe he’d fled before they could pin him down. Or maybe he was biding his time, watching from the shadows for a chance to escape the island.

“We need to find him, and we need something hard to put him with the bodies,” Lei said. “Call the Captain and update her. I’ll get started with the search.”

Pono took out his phone. As he relayed the details, Lei walked to the bedroom, her eyes scanning every corner, every surface. But even as she searched, her thoughts were on the shark-tooth club, the spear, the stone-headed club.

That weapons collection pointed to someone with a knowledge of Hawaiian history and culture. But nothing in what Katie had dug up suggested Mank was actually an expert in Hawaiiana; he’d moved around a lot before coming to the Islands and his cover as “Kahuna” was flimsy.

Lei’s jaw clenched as she methodically tossed the bedroom, flipping the mattress. She pulled open the drawers of the bedside table and rifled through them. Nothing of interest—a porn mag, dirty socks, and a few clothes. She eyed empty, dangling hangers and a space on the shelf above that looked like something the size of a suitcase had rested there.

“Looks like he packed a bag, Pono,” she called.

She glanced at her partner, who returned to her side as he finished his call. “The airport’s on lockdown for this guy. Captain’s updated. TG will be here shortly to help us process the house and weapons.”

Lei nodded. “Good. But I worry Mank’s off-island already. We’re going to need to establish a timeline for when he was last seen. And if he’s got two identities, he might have more—and be long gone.”

“Yeah.” Pono rubbed his mustache briskly. “What next?”

“Divide and conquer. You take the living room and kitchen. I’ll do the two bedrooms and bathroom. We’ll sic TG on the weapons collection and gathering trace on the display wall as soon as he gets here.”

Mank was out there, and whether he was the mastermind or the next victim, Lei wasn’t going to let him slip through her fingers.