Hospital personnel recognized Carmen and whisked her into an examination room. One of the security guards produced a key and removed the handcuffs from Keiko. He exclaimed at the burn on her hand, an open sore an inch wide that traversed her palm. An ER doctor soon arrived to take a look at it. Before Keiko went off with him, she handed a cell phone to Storm. Pauline’s phone.
Another security guard pulled Storm aside. “Have you called the police about this?”
“I came directly here.”
“We need to report the kidnapping and their injuries.”
Storm agreed. “I’ll do it now. I know the officer who’s handling the case involving Carmen’s father.”
Gloom crossed the security guard’s face. “Sad situation, isn’t it? Say, do you need medical attention?”
“No, I’m fine. Tell Carmen and Keiko I’ll check in with them later.”
Back in the car, Storm turned on Pauline’s phone. Once she handed the phone over to the police, she wouldn’t see it again. She went to the menu to check both incoming and outgoing phone calls over the past several days. There were a lot, particularly in the last two days.
With an old ball point pen retrieved from Damon’s glove box and one of the soccer flyers on the back seat, she went back five days. It didn’t take her long because Pauline called the same people over and over. She had a few different incoming calls, but not many. Storm saw Stella’s number three times, and jotted down the dates and times of the calls. With a skip of her heart, she recognized one number as Akira Kudo’s. The most frequent calls were to and from Wayne, who was in Pauline’s address book. Wayne was also on speed-dial.
Storm finished, then called the police station number Moana had given her and got a recording, which told callers to use 911. The lack of response reminded her that it was nine-fifteen on Sunday morning. Except for coffee, she hadn’t had anything to eat yet. Storm parked near the hospital and walked to a sandwich shop down the street.
On the way, she walked past the bombed-out shell of Blue Marine, the ruined restaurant. A lone police officer paced the cracked and rutted sidewalk, and directed the infrequent Sunday pedestrian to the other side of the street.
Carl Moana looked glad to see her. Patrolling construction sites was either overtime or scut work, and Moana was probably bored.
“Are you still on Hiroki Yoshinaka’s case?” Storm asked him.
He shrugged. “Senior level detectives took it over. The woman that died last night in Lahaina worked at the bar where Yoshinaka gambled. The Red Light.”
That was the information Storm wanted from Damon. She’d asked him in at least three different ways. She’d even bought him dinner and drinks. Lots of drinks.
“I heard that place has Yakuza ties. Some guy named Obake owns it.”
Moana frowned. “How’d you hear that?”
“I heard from someone else about Obake.”
“Who?”
“It’s a small island, remember?”
He looked at her carefully. “He’s bad news. Don’t get involved with him.”
“How did the woman die?”
“Looks like she was beaten, knocked unconscious, and dumped in the ocean. An isolated beach, and no one saw her.”
“Do you think there’s a connection between her and Yoshinaka?”
“No indication of it. But we do know there’s a connection between her and gambling, and Yoshinaka and gambling. It’s tempting to connect dots, but they could be the wrong dots, you know?” He shoved his hands in his pocket and kicked a pebble on the sidewalk.
He knows about the prostitution, Storm thought. “Is Obake a suspect in her death?”
Moana laughed without humor. “You should hear him. He’s a victim of a murder attempt, and she was a wonderful person and a lifelong friend. He claims it’s the same person who set the bomb.” Moana gestured toward the ruined restaurant.
“Does he have alibis?”
“Of course. With people who corroborate all his claims.”
“That figures,” Storm said. “You knew about Carmen leaving the hospital?”
He wheeled to face her. “Yes, have you heard anything?”
“I found her and Keiko.” Storm told him about Pauline Harding’s house, and how Harding had telephone contact with a man named Akira Kudo.
Moana’s hands fell out of his pockets. “How’d you get that information?”
“Keiko stole her cell phone.”
“Could I have it?”
“Yes, but it’s in my car.” She pointed. “I’m parked down the street.”
Moana walked with her. “I owe you.”
“A guy like Obake is connected.”
“I know.” He looked uneasy. “I thought of that. I’m going to check the phone log carefully.”
“Good,” she said. “Will you call me after you see Keiko and Carmen? I’ve got a meeting in Kihei.” She handed him a business card, which had her cell phone number. He reciprocated.