Tanaka walked to the whiteboard. “Let’s get to work,” he said. Uncapping a marker, he began to write a timeline. He started with a dot he marked Death.
“We know Fortunato died around midnight, because …?”
“Dr. Smith’s best guess.” Kawika replied. “There’s also Jason Hare, the eyewitness. He’s not telling the whole truth, but what he says about the killing itself checks out. Like, he says the killer uncuffed Fortunato and recuffed him behind his back. That fits. Dr. Smith says Fortunato’s left wrist was cuffed twice.”
“Ms. Quinn spotted the body at …?” Tanaka continued.
“Around six AM,” Kawika said. “Maybe six fifteen.”
“And Fortunato left home …?”
“About seven PM the night before. Left work around five fifteen, apparently. Went home and ate, then went out, according to his wife.”
By dinner time, working together, they’d filled the whiteboard with the timeline. Then they called out for pizza, sat down, and looked at what they’d written. The first entry went back three years: F arrives Hawaii 1999. The last entry was Today. The dozens of entries in between included:
Heiau discovered
Heiau bulldozed
Angry mtg w/HHH
Peter Pukui & Melanie Munu last seen
Shimazu departs
Kai Malo returns from Molokai (?)
Joan Milo assault? (Tanaka added “Stray?”)
Kai kills Joan & self
Kawika felt profoundly tired, and it showed. “Let’s take a break,” Tanaka said. “Make our calls. Pizza comes, we’ll pick up again. Long night ahead of us.”
Long night ahead of us. Not a bad title for a murder mystery, Kawika thought. He stretched, working to fight off the long night behind him. The night of Jason Hare and Patience, a night he hadn’t slept much.
They went to Tanaka’s office and called Tommy. Tanaka put him on the speaker.
“Need you to pick a guy’s brain,” Kawika said. “Retired FBI. Lives on Kohala Mountain Road. He investigated Fortunato on the mainland. He might be able to help us. What’s his name again, Terry?”
“Frank Kimaio,” Tanaka said.
“Kimaio?” Tommy asked. “Hawaiian? Could it be Kīmai‘o? You know, with a little stop? Don’t want to make a mistake when I go see him.”
“No,” Tanaka replied. “It’s just a mainland name, I think.”
“Find out what he knows,” Kawika added. “What they found in their investigation. I’ll follow up with him if you get anything interesting.”
“Right,” Tommy said.
“And there’s a guy over there named Jason Hare. He’s an eyewitness.” Kawika told Tommy what Hare had reported, and promised to fax his statement. “We’ll want to interview him again at Waimea as soon as I’m back there.” Kawika knew it had to be done, but he was worried. What if Hare talked about how they’d met?
Tanaka said they should call Patience next.
“Here? On the speaker?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Okay.” Kawika dialed her number.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hello, Ms. Quinn?” Kawika said, as formally as possible. “It’s Detective Wong. I’m here with Captain Tanaka. We’ve got you on speaker.”
“Oh. Hello, Detective. Hello, Captain.” Whew, Kawika thought.
“Aloha,” Tanaka said.
“Captain Tanaka says you called. About a couple at the Cape?”
“Yes,” Patience said. “I thought you should hear this. The Murphys, from California. Both doctors, retired here maybe five years ago. Well, this morning everyone was talking about them. Seems Fortunato visited them at home the night he died. The Murphys told people about it the next day, down at the Beach Club. Apparently they really hated him. Turns out they’re suing KKL, trying to block construction. Something about defective legal title—title to the land.”
“Defective title?” Kawika asked.
“That’s what the Murphys told people. They were explaining why Fortunato came to see them. They figured he wanted to settle the lawsuit. But when he got there, he apparently threatened them. So they kicked him out. And then he got murdered not too far away.”
“Thank you, Ms. Quinn,” Kawika said, making notes. “We’ll definitely talk with them.”
“There’s more,” she said. “The Murphys have been buying up property at the Mauna Lani. They’re speculating in real estate. That’s what people say, anyway. And KKL would harm their property values.”
“Where are the Murphys now?” Tanaka asked.
“They’re gone. They left this morning.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I talked to them as they were leaving. After I heard about them at the Beach Club, I walked past their place on the way to my condo. And there they were, scurrying around, closing up the house. I said, ‘Pretty shocking about Ralph Fortunato, isn’t it? Everyone’s talking about it.’ Dr. Murphy, the husband, just scowled at me—and the other Dr. Murphy, his wife, she scowled at me too. Then he said, ‘Someone was going to kill the son of a bitch sooner or later,’ and went back around the house. Right after that an airport shuttle pulled up, and away they went.”
“Well,” Kawika said. “Thank you again, Ms. Quinn. This is very helpful.”
“Wait a minute,” she said. “Let me finish.”
“Go ahead, Ms. Quinn.” Tanaka waggled an admonitory finger at Kawika.
“I think Fortunato walked to their house from the Beach Club,” she said. “There’s a path—remember, Detective Wong? That’s how we walked to the hotel. In the other direction, of course. The Murphys’ is right near the Club, the third house. I think Fortunato parked at the Club and walked to their house that way.”
“Sounds logical,” Kawika said.
“The same walk I took today,” she continued. “And after they left, I even went up to the Murphys’ house.”
“The gate was open?”
“No, I just stepped over it. It’s not high. And I found a slipper at the door. You know, a sandal. A man’s Teva.”
“Just one Teva?”
“Yes. Just one.”
“Did you leave it undisturbed?” Kawika asked.
“No,” she said. “I didn’t have my phone, I couldn’t call the police. So I took it, just to be sure you’d have it as evidence. Fortunato was barefoot, right? I worried the Murphys might remember his Tevas and get someone to get rid of them. Or it. There’s only one.”
“Yes, but …” Kawika began.
“I thought you might want it, Detective Wong,” she said. “Couldn’t Fortunato’s wife identify it? If it’s his, then don’t you see? It means he never got back to his car. It means he parked first
