Page 24 of Tiki Beach (Paradise Crime Cozy Mystery #6)

We sat down and hastily consumed our to-go bowls of chili and hot buttered sides of cornbread.

Once the needs of the body were taken care of and my teeth had been brushed, I called Lei on the landline and put her on speaker.

“It’s Kat and Keone checking in,” I said.

“We have new information about Councilman Akana’s connection to all this. ”

“Interesting timing,” Lei replied. “Akana just called asking to be present during Mayor Santos’s interview, claiming ‘community interest.’ I denied the request, of course.”

“They’re working together,” I said. “Akana and Santos are business partners. There’s a financial connection between their families going back decades.”

“Talk fast,” she instructed. “Mayor Santos is waiting in the interview room, and I don’t want to give him time to get comfortable.”

We quickly briefed her on everything we’d learned from the letter, Artie, and our earlier discoveries at Pearl’s house.

“We have two potential suspects,” Lei summarized. “Mayor Santos, with a historical motive to suppress evidence of his grandfather’s crimes, and Councilman Akana, with a financial motive to control Pearl’s property for his development plans. And they’re business partners.”

“Which complicates determining who actually poisoned Pearl,” Keone noted. “Though we still don’t know who could have been at Pearl’s premises the day of the tea party.”

“Meanwhile, the tech department has broken the encryption on the thumb drive you found in the origami crane. It contains financial records—documentation of payments from Anuenue Enterprises to various officials over the past five years.”

“That’s hard evidence!” I exclaimed.

“Not quite,” Lei said.

“Bribes?” Keone interjected.

“Let me finish. The payments are labeled as ‘consulting fees’ but the timing corresponds to key zoning decisions and permit approvals. Pearl was documenting modern corruption, not just historical crimes.”

“Which gives both Santos and Akana motive to silence her,” I said.

“I’m going to interview Santos now. I will live stream the interview via button cam to you, through our phones. Your knowledge of the case might help you spot things I miss.”

“Thanks for including us, Lei,” I said fervently.

I didn’t ask if this was protocol for a police interview because I was pretty sure it wasn’t.

* * *

We followed Lei’s perspective, watching on my phone in a slightly fish-eyed distortion view, as she walked into the interview room.

Mayor Santos sat stiffly in a chair at a shiny metal table, his coiffed salt-and-pepper hair a little wilted, his face shiny.

Apparently, the air-conditioning wasn’t working.

Beside him sat a sleek blonde woman in an expensive suit—his attorney, based on the protective way she leaned toward him.

Lei set a folder on the table before taking a seat across from Santos.

“Thank you for coming in, Mayor,” she began. “This is an informal interview. You’re not under arrest, and you’re free to leave at any time, as your attorney has surely advised you.”

The lawyer nodded. “My client is here voluntarily to assist your investigation in any way he can. We understand a respected community member has been harmed, and naturally, the mayor wants to help resolve the matter.”

“Naturally,” Lei echoed, her tone neutral. “Let’s start with your relationship with Pearl Yamamoto. Tell us about that.”

Santos shifted slightly in his seat. “Pearl and I have known each other for many years. We’ve had our disagreements on certain community matters, but I’ve always respected her dedication to education and cultural preservation.”

“These disagreements,” Lei said. “They wouldn’t happen to involve her Heritage Tea Garden project, would they?”

“I have expressed concerns about the project’s scope and potential impact on traffic patterns,” Santos said. “But these were professional disagreements, nothing personal.”

“Nothing personal,” Lei said. “Even though the garden was specifically designed to commemorate the Japanese internment period, including events involving your grandfather, Felix Santos?”

A muscle twitched in the mayor’s jaw, but his expression remained neutral. “Ancient history is rarely relevant to modern civic planning, Ms. Texeira.”

“You can call me Detective Sergeant Texeira, thank you. What about Pearl’s request that you donate the five-acre lot adjoining hers as part of the garden? A piece of land that, according to records we’ve uncovered, was taken from her family by your grandfather for a fraction of its worth.”

“I told Pearl the lot was not available as a donation,” Santos said. “However loudly she played the guilt fiddle.” He ran a finger around his buttoned collar, tugging at it. “Can you adjust the temperature in here?”

“I apologize, Mayor, the air-conditioning is out in this section of the building,” Lei said smoothly.

“Let’s move forward quickly so we can get you out of here.

” She flipped open the folder. Keone and I leaned forward, and our heads bonked; we were looking at a series of Lei’s handwritten notes, nothing more.

“Now, some evidence has come to light regarding your ancestor, Felix Santos. Apparently, according to historical records, he didn’t just swindle the Yamamotos out of their land.

He stole valuable items from other detainees and was involved with a homicide. ”

The attorney leaned forward. “Detective, is there a specific question here? My client cannot be held responsible for unsubstantiated rumors about events that allegedly occurred over eighty years ago.”

“Of course,” Lei said. “I’m more interested in his response to evidence of those events being made public now. Perhaps through Pearl Yamamoto’s garden project and the educational materials she was preparing.”

“I have no control over Ms. Yamamoto’s educational materials,” Santos said stiffly. “But I will take prompt legal action to prevent slander such as you’re describing.”

“That tells me you have a significant interest in preventing certain historical revelations,” Lei said. “Revelations that might damage not only your family’s reputation, but your reelection campaign.”

“This is absurd,” the attorney interjected. “A fishing expedition.”

“I’m simply exploring motives that might tie the mayor, or his son, who is, coincidentally, on the planning commission, to the attack on Ms. Yamamoto,” Lei said. “Let’s just say there’s a lot there. Now let’s discuss your business relationship with Councilman Roger Akana. Tell me about that.”

The sudden change of direction clearly caught Santos off guard. He blinked rapidly before regaining his composure. “Councilman Akana and I have several mutual business interests, as do many community leaders.”

“Specifically, through Santos Investment Group’s partnership with Anuenue Enterprises,” Lei clarified. “A partnership that has financial interests in developing the coastal area near Pearl Yamamoto’s property.”

“All completely legitimate business arrangements,” the attorney piped up.

“Though I’m curious about a series of payments from Anuenue Enterprises to various officials, documented in files recently discovered in Pearl’s possession. Payments that coincide with favorable zoning decisions for your joint projects.”

Santos paled visibly and unbuttoned his collar. “I’m not involved in the day-to-day operations of Santos Investment Group. You would need to speak with our financial officers about any specific transactions.”

“I intend to,” Lei said. “But first, I’d like to know where you were on the morning Pearl Yamamoto was poisoned.”

“This is becoming an interrogation,” the attorney protested.

“It’s a simple question,” Lei countered. “One an innocent man should have no trouble answering.”

Santos cleared his throat. “I was at a breakfast meeting with the tourism board just outside Ohia. From 7:30 until approximately 9:45 a.m.”

“Interesting,” Lei said. “Because Pearl was poisoned during that window of time, according to medical estimates. Her house is less than ten minutes from there.”

“Are you suggesting I slipped away from a meeting with a dozen witnesses to poison an elderly woman’s tea in front of even more people?” Santos asked incredulously. “I heard she drank the bad tea at a social gathering.”

“I’m suggesting it would have been physically possible,” Lei said. “Just as it would have been possible for you to hire someone else to do it.”

The attorney stood abruptly. “This interview is over. My client has cooperated fully, but I won’t allow these unfounded accusations to continue.”

Lei remained seated, her expression calm. “One more question before you go, Mayor Santos. Where were you at approximately 4:15 a.m. this morning?”

Santos froze halfway to standing. “What?”

“This morning,” Lei repeated. “Around 4:15 a.m.. Pearl Yamamoto regained consciousness briefly and spoke to her caretaker, Kawika Pali, whereupon someone attacked Mr. Pali in Pearl’s hospital room. I’m wondering if you can account for your whereabouts during that time.”

“I was at home, asleep,” Santos said, his voice strained. “As any normal person would be at that hour.”

“Can anyone verify that?” Lei pressed.

“My wife,” Santos replied. “Not that I need an alibi for something I had nothing to do with.”

Lei nodded, closing her folder. “Thank you for your time, Mayor Santos. We’ll be in touch if we have further questions.”

As Santos and his attorney left the interview room, Keone and I gazed at each other, eyes wide. “She rattled him,” Keone said. “Especially with that last question about this morning.”

Lei called us a moment later. “He’s definitely hiding something, but I’m not convinced he’s our poisoner.”

“What about the hospital attack?” I asked.

“The timing doesn’t quite work,” she said. “We have security footage of the hospital parking lot. No vehicle matching Santos’s entered between 3:30 and 5:00 a.m., nor were there any suspects entering matching his physical description.”

“That means either he has an accomplice, or . . .”

“Or Councilman Akana might be more directly involved than we initially thought,” Lei finished. “Or the mayor’s son, David. I need to bring him in for questioning next, but I don’t have enough cause. Let’s keep digging.”

We ended the call.

I stood up, stretching to my full height. I wiggled my whole body to discharge the tension collected in my muscles. “I need exercise. This has been the most intense ‘day off’ I’ve had in a while.”

Keone stood and stretched as well. I admired the slice of tanned, toned abs revealed when his shirt rode up. “We could go over to the beach for a swim, or . . . perhaps . . .?” He glanced meaningfully at the Murphy bed attached to the wall and raised a brow.

I smiled, slow and catlike, channeling Tiki at her most feral. I leaned forward over the table, letting my cleavage (what there was of it) do the talking. “I’ll take the ‘or perhaps,’ Mr. K,” I said. “And it better be a workout.”

* * *

Well, we broke the old Murphy bed.

Yep, that happened. The thing was long past its expiration date, but still—that was a dramatic finish to our afternoon delight.

After laughing our butts off when we landed naked on the floor, there was nothing for it but to throw on our suits and go for a cool-off swim in the ocean.

By the time we’d swum laps, come back to the shack and showered, we were both feeling hungry—the chili hadn’t made much of a dent in our healthy young appetites.

“Where should we get food?” I asked. “I require sustenance.”

“Me too. Maybe Aunt Fae is cooking as we speak,” Keone said optimistically.

“Anyone but me in the kitchen,” I said.

He moved in for a kiss. “I’ll take you in the kitchen,” he murmured in my ear.

Suddenly, the K & K landline rang.

I glanced over at the ID screen and frowned. “It’s your mom. Why would she be calling here?”

“This can’t be good,” Keone said, and lunged for the handset.