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I dropped Gunter off at the little house he shared with a roommate, behind Diamond Head Elementary. “It’s not your fault he ran away,” he said, as he got out. “He was going to slip away sometime.”
“I know. I just wish he’d let me help him.”
“He has to want the help first.”
“When did you get so smart?”
“Years of experience.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Any chance of you coming in for a nightcap?”
I knew he wasn’t serious. “Go on,” I said, pushing his shoulder.
Mike was asleep when I got home. I took Roby out for a quick pee and then slid in bed. The next morning Mike was already gone by the time my alarm went off. I went through the ritual with Roby, then drove in to work.
When Ray came in, I told him what I’d learned from Dakota. “There wasn’t another body there,” he said. “What do you think they did with the woman?”
“No idea.” I checked missing persons for anything about an elderly couple while Ray went through the system to see if we’d heard about any kidnapping or ransom reports. Neither of us came up with anything.
Doc Takayama called and invited us to the morgue to check out the autopsy report. Such a gentleman, that guy.
Though it was clear when we left headquarters, the sky had clouded over by the time we got to the ME’s office on Iwilei, in a two-story concrete building just off Nimitz. The paint on the building was peeling and the landscaping was overgrown— after all, the dead don’t vote. The building was between the Salvation Army and a homeless center— something I always thought was an ironic comment, but maybe was intended as an object lesson to those less fortunate. You never know what the city fathers are thinking, after all.
We rolled down the flaps on the Jeep and dashed inside just in time to miss a rain shower. Alice Kanamura, the cheerful receptionist, was sitting at the front desk when we walked in. “If you’re here for the autopsy on the burn victim you missed it,” she said. “Took Doc about five minutes this morning.”
“I’m surprised it took that long, considering how little was left after the fire,” Ray said. “Any news on the serial number from the artificial hip?”
“Let me call Doc and see what he’s come up with.”
Doc Takayama is the Medical Examiner for Honolulu City and County, though he looks barely old enough to have graduated medical school. He was a whiz kid, graduated in record time from UH, and he told me once he went into pathology because he didn’t have to worry if the patients would trust him.
“He’s in the computer lab,” she said, when she hung up. “Down the hall to the right.”
We followed her directions, trying to ignore the underlying smell of death that lingered no matter how much air freshener was used. Through the glass windows of the lab we saw Doc standing over a young Chinese-American tech who was manipulating an image on the computer screen.
“Just in time,” Doc said, when we walked in. “Fermin managed to enhance the image enough so we can make out the serial number.”
He showed us the image on the screen. We saw company logo, with a set of numbers, and the copyright mark. “That’s the model number,” Doc said, pointing at the screen. “The 46 mm refers to the diameter of the ball on the end.”
He moved his finger farther down on the shaft. “Here’s the serial number. Fermin went into the database to see whose hip we had. I think you’ll be interested in the result.”
Fermin hit a couple of keys and the screen switched. “Alexander Fields?” I said.
“One and the same. Note the address in Black Point.”
“Someone I should know?” Ray asked.
“Prime mover behind the drive for statehood,” I said. “There are schools and overpasses and even a sewage lift station named after him all over the island. Also founding partner of Fields and Yamato.”
“The law firm where your ex-girlfriend works?” Ray asked.
“Yes.”
Doc looked interested. “I’d forgotten the reputation you used to have. Who’s your ex?”
I was conflicted when I was younger, to say the least. I knew I was attracted to guys, but I didn’t think I could be gay and have the life I wanted. So I dated girls a lot, trying to find the one who could make me believe I was straight.
“Peggy Kaneahe.” Peggy predated all that; she and I sat next to each other all through high school based on our alphabetic placement, and we had dated through our junior and senior years. We broke up when we went our separate ways to college, and had only recently started dating again when I was dragged out of the closet.
That second break-up was acrimonious, and it took a long time for Peggy and me to return to a carefully managed friendship. She was an assistant prosecuting attorney back then, but as many do, she switched sides when she had a job offer from Fields and Yamato. We had worked together a couple of times, always with the sense that we were walking on eggshells. I didn’t relish the thought of having to do that again.
“Pretty woman,” Doc said, nodding. “Can’t hold a candle to Lidia, obviously. But not bad.”
Doc had been dating a beat cop named Lidia Portuondo for a while. I wondered sometimes about their pillow talk. But then again, Mike and I managed to leave most of our jobs at work, and I figured Doc and Lidia did the same.
“You come up with a cause of death?” I asked.
Doc nodded. “Follow me.” He walked over to another terminal and sat down. Ray and I stood behind him as he got into the system and called up the records of Fields’ autopsy. He brought up a picture on the screen and pointed. “These are the fragments of the skull we were able to retrieve from the scene. This is the frontal bone—what makes up your forehead. Notice the bullet hole through the center.”
“Execution style,” Ray said.
Doc nodded. “From the angle, I’d say Fields was on his knees, and the shooter pointed the gun right at his forehead and fired. Looks to me like hollow point ammunition, because of the damage to all the interior bones of the skull.”
“So he was dead before the fire started,” I said.
“If I had the lungs I’d confirm that, but I think you’re safe with that assumption.”
Doc promised to email over a full report. We thanked him and walked back out to the Jeep. The shower had passed, leaving the air fresh and full of negative ions. “If that’s Alexander Fields, who was the woman with him?” Ray asked.
I pulled out my phone and did a quick search. “His wife died five years ago. Maybe a date? We should go over to his house.”
“Peggy Kaneahe might know.”
“That’s true. I’ll call her after we finish at the house.”
“You sure? You’re going to have to call Peggy sooner or later. Might as well make it sooner.”
“You’re not going to be one of those helicopter parents, always hovering over Vinnie and telling him what to do, are you?”
Ray shook his head. “Not while I have you to hover around.”