“Yeah. We had Jason scope out their security. Folks see him walking up and down the road all the time. They don’t pay attention to him. He was doing recon.”
“He wasn’t doing graffiti?”
“Naw,” Kimaio gave a small laugh. “Did that myself. It was a long shot. Kinda fun, really. Might not have worked, of course. But we guessed where Ms. Quinn shopped, and so it did.”
“What was Hare doing at the Mauna Lani the night I met him? Spying on me?”
“No. He was looking for Fortunato’s other Teva. I grabbed Fortunato at the Beach Club after he left the Murphys. Took his sandals to keep him from running. Put ’em in my cargo pants, so we could leave ’em at Murphys’ later. I lost one somehow. Sent Jason to look for it the next few nights. In daylight he can’t walk around a South Kohala resort—you’ve seen what the guy looks like. Had him take a cat trap and a cat, in case he got spotted. He never found the other Teva. Just one more thing that went wrong.”
“So Dad was right.”
“About what?”
“About Slipper Dog. You ought to know.”
“I don’t know. How would I?”
“Oh, come on.”
“We didn’t bug your dad’s place, Detective. We didn’t bug your girlfriends’ places or their phones either. Figured they were entitled to some privacy.”
“But you did bug my place? Tap my phones? Captain Tanaka’s?”
“Well, not your home. Just Tanaka’s. He’s home more than you are. We did bug the meeting rooms at the station, though,” Kimaio added. “We practically tore our hair out, listening to that S&R lawyer. What a bunch of red herrings—bribes, hunters, some old chief.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, well, about Jason Hare: I recruited him here. He knew Thomas Gray.”
“So that was the Vietnam connection.”
“No, Nam was a coincidence. Thomas Gray started Kohala Kats. Jason worked for them for years before this. He really loves cats, knew Thomas Gray well. I persuaded him Ralph murdered Gray, threw him off his own boat, but that we’d never prove it in court.”
“Do you know for a fact Ralph did that?”
“I know it for a moral certainty. Don’t you?” Kimaio waited. “Well, don’t you? C’mon, Detective—you’re the one who told me about Occam’s Razor.”
“Only because you tapped my phones.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Anything more you want to know?”
Kawika’s unease spiked sharply. He remembered Sam Spade: “Try to keep your man talking.”
“What about Rocco?” Kawika asked. “Did you think he’d survive that drop?”
Kimaio gave a disgusted laugh, and a spasm of coughing followed. Then he spoke softly. “Rocco was a projectile. I was trying to hit Cushing.”
“Why?” Kawika asked. “Couldn’t trust the system to deal with him?”
“That wasn’t it.” Kimaio sounded surprised. “I do trust the system when it works. I just wanted to get away clean. I might have, with Rocco and Cushing both dead. But Cushing’s alive; he’ll dispute the Fortunato part of Rocco’s confession now, just like you plan to. Another thing that went wrong.”
“Why the shore naupaka in Rocco’s pocket?” Kawika asked, trying to keep the conversation from ending, the gun from being used. “What were you trying to tell us?”
“Wasn’t trying to tell you anything. Message wasn’t intended for you. Someone else.”
“Another blackboard boy? Someone who performs autopsies? A way of tipping him off?”
Kimaio didn’t reply, just looked into the forest. They sat again in silence. “More questions?” Kimaio finally asked.
“Yes,” Kawika answered. He couldn’t avoid it any longer. “Why are you telling me all this? You intend to kill me?”
Kimaio chuckled. “Kill a fellow lawman? No, never. I intend to persuade you. Or rather, give you information to persuade yourself. Information, and time to think about it.”
“Persuade myself to do what?”
“To let things be. Your boss has Cushing, he’s got Rocco’s confession, and he’s got lots to corroborate it: Cushing’s spear, Melanie’s body, the rifle and ammo. He’s going to find those distinctive handcuffs at Cushing’s house and mountain naupaka growing in Cushing’s flowerbed. Captain Tanaka won’t want you arresting a retired lawman. Not in these circumstances. Not with Cushing guilty of murder. Surely you must know that.”
“But Cushing didn’t kill Fortunato. Rocco didn’t either.”
“Cushing hired Rocco to kill you, though. You were supposed to be ‘the bones of Hilo,’ remember? He tried to have you shot, whereas—don’t forget—I saved your life.”
This time Kawika couldn’t restrain himself. “You didn’t save my life,” he protested. “Rocco took three shots at me. You didn’t make him miss, did you?”
Kimaio looked puzzled. “No, of course not,” he said. “Not in Hilo. I saved your life here, in Kau.” He pronounced it “Cow.”
“Here?” said Kawika in seeming disbelief, but he knew it must be true.
“Yeah, here,” insisted Kimaio. “That killer you found cuffed to this tree? You were chasing him into this forest, and he was lying in wait. He was going to shoot you dead, Detective. I’m the one who cuffed him, took away his gun. You must realize that, since you knew where to find me today.”
It was true. Kawika tried to clear his head. “You were grooming me to handle the Fortunato investigation way back then? Before you killed him?”
“Couldn’t afford to lose you at that stage.”
“And the division chief in Waimea, the one who asked Tanaka to send me to the Mauna Lani in the first place? He was in on all this?”
“No, not all of it. He’s a former FBI special agent, like me. A friend of mine, and a friend of Captain Tanaka. I just offered your name as a suggestion to a fellow officer of the law. But enough of that. The point is, you’re not going to get to Hilo for Captain Tanaka’s press conference. So what are you going to do? Show up later, embarrass him, tell him he’s got just one little thing wrong?”
“It’s not a little thing. You murdered Fortunato.”
“Executed him.”
“Lynched him.”
“Okay, lynched him. But not unjustly—it was vigilante justice. He knew the custom of the country, as my old friend Marshal Hanson might say. And if you arrest me,
