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During the funeral service, Shepard Fields described his father’s distinguished career, from his efforts on behalf of statehood to the many construction projects he had been involved with as an attorney. “Alexander Fields shaped the landscape of this state,” he concluded. “His legacy can be found in the projects he championed and the laws he influenced.”
Stephanie, on the other hand, spoke about her father as a man. “His public persona was only one part of him,” she said. “He was passionate and driven in business and civic life, but when he came home, he was just Daddy. He loved my mother, and he was never too busy to ask me about my day. He was determined to give my brother and me everything we needed to succeed in life.”
I thought I heard Shepard Fields snort.
“In his last years, my father changed,” she continued. “He began to look back on his life and consider his legacy, and he wanted to make amends for some of the hurts he had caused. Those of us who were lucky enough to still be close to him saw a different side of him.”
She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “Goodbye, Daddy. Rest in peace.”
The church was full; Winston Yamato, Peggy Kaneahe and Sarah Byrne sat among a group of mourners from Fields and Yamato. Other figures I recognized from civic life were scattered around the church. I scanned the crowd for elderly women, wondering if one of them had been with Fields when he was driven to his death.
There were two separate limousines for the family—one for Shepard and Tim, and another for Stephanie, Lee, and the distant cousins. I left my Jeep in the garage and rode with Ray at the end of the long funeral procession.
“So what do you think?” I asked, as we followed the limos and the hearse up Punchbowl Street toward the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific. “They’re both willing to point the finger at each other. There’s something screwy going on, but I don’t see either of them as behind this.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you.” Ray waved at the motorcycle cop managing the back end of the procession as we passed him. “I suppose we’ll have to go back to those case files Peggy gave us.”
“That reminds me,” I said. “I didn’t tell you what Mike and I did this weekend.”
I ran through the details as we circled around the back of the cemetery on Puowaina Drive. “I need to run the license plate when we get in.”
“What did you do with the kid?”
“He’s staying with Mike and me for a couple of days.”
Ray turned to look at me. “You think that’s a good idea?”
“He didn’t want to go to Terri’s. And if we put him into the system I know he’ll run away again.”
“But he can’t stay with you forever.”
“Why not? Mike and I could sign up as foster parents.”
“You mean instead of having a kid of your own?”
I hadn’t seen it like that. “Two different things. Dakota’s almost an adult. He’ll be on his own in a couple of years.” I paused. “And, well, we decided we’re going forward with Cathy and Sandra. We’re going to be dads.”
“For real? That’s great. Congratulations!” Ray pulled up beside the oval grass lawn at the front of the cemetery. In the distance I saw the skyline of downtown Honolulu; a single American flag waved in the light breeze. “I always get a lump in my throat when I come to a place like this,” he said, as we got out of the Highlander. “All the sacrifice.”
“I know what you mean.” We were silent through the interment, then waited until the other cars had left the cemetery before we did. Stephanie and Shepard were staying in Honolulu for a few days; if any questions came up we knew how to get hold of them.
We stopped at a Zippy’s for takeout burgers, and Ray dropped me at the church to pick up my car. When I got back to headquarters, I emailed the photo I’d taken of the bodybuilder on Saturday night to Francisco Salinas, an FBI agent we’d worked with on several cases, and asked if he could put it through their facial recognition software.
The credit reports we had ordered came in, and after we finished eating, we looked them over. Shepard Fields was wealthy in his own right; he had invested in a couple of small software companies in Silicon Valley that had gone public, and despite the downturn in the market for tech stocks he was doing very well.
Surprisingly, so was his sister. Each of her divorces had ended with a substantial cash settlement, which she had invested carefully. She owned the home where she lived with Lee Poe.
“I wish we’d requested a credit report on Lee,” I said, turning to Ray.
“Why?”
“Suppose he’s broke, and living off Stephanie. He might want to get his hands on her daddy’s money, too.”
“But she knew he had terminal cancer,” Ray said. “Why take the risk? Why not wait for him to go on his own?”
“People get greedy,” I said.
My email beeped with a response from Francisco Salinas. “If you’d come over to work with us you could do this yourself,” he wrote. “But in the interest of inter-agency cooperation I’ll run the picture for you.”
I looked over at Ray. “So Salinas knows. You think our moving over to the Bureau is already a done deal?”
Ray shrugged. “We’re cogs in a wheel. If the brass wants us to work for the Feds, yeah, it’s a done deal.”
“Even if we don’t want to?”
Ray looked at me. “You don’t want to?”
“I don’t know. I like what I do. Homicide is the top of the heap when it comes to detective work. Do you want to give that up to chase paperwork for the Bureau?”
“Look at it this way,” Ray said, leaning back in his chair. “We work within a very narrow range here. The crime has to occur in District 1, it has to be assigned to us, and it has to be something serious. Not always homicide. We can investigate robbery, assault, sexual assault, domestic violence, child abuse, financial fraud and forgery, auto theft, and white collar crimes.”
He leaned forward again. “But those are all small potatoes when it comes to the big picture. Individual cases, individual victims.”
“That’s important,” I said. “We bring justice for those victims.”
“I’m not saying it’s not important. But the Bureau, they handle bigger cases. Things that affect more people, maybe even the whole country. I think it would be cool to be a part of that.”
“The Bureau isn’t going to look into homicides,” I said. “Think about all the specialized skills we’ve got that we wouldn’t be able to use.”
“Think of all we can learn,” he said. “The toys they have—the weapons and the databases. Stretching to investigate in different ways.”
“What are you, some kind of recruiter?”
“No. But I talked about it with Julie over the weekend.” He took a deep breath. “I’m up for the change. Even if you’re not.”
I nodded. “I haven’t made up my mind yet. But it’s good to know where you stand.”
We were both quiet for a minute. I remembered what it had been like for me as a detective before Ray became my partner. Things had improved a lot since then. But which mattered more to me—being a cop, protecting and serving the people of Honolulu with aloha? Or working that larger canvas like Ray suggested, continuing our partnership?
I took a deep breath. “We still have to track the license plate for the limo.” I ran the check; it led me to a company called Royal Rides.
I found the company’s website and called the phone number. “Royal Rides, this is Chris. How can I help you?”
I identified myself and asked how I could track the use of the limo the night Alexander Fields was murdered.
“Our drivers are independent operators. We don’t withhold taxes or give them any benefits. We book some clients for them, but they also have their own customers. Hold on and let me check the records for last Tuesday.”
Instead of music, their system played an endless stream of ads for the company, repeating their tag line, “Royal Rides, where we treat our customers like kings and queens,” until it was ingrained in my brain.
“I have nothing on the books for last Tuesday night,” Chris said, when he returned to the line. “The driver’s name is Pika Campbell. You want his phone number?”
“Sure.” I wrote down the name and number. “You have an address for him?”
“Let me see. Here it is. 364 South King Street, Apartment 12.”
I turned to my computer and typed in the address. “Can’t be, brah,” I said. “That’s the Iolani Palace.”
“Maybe it’s a typo. But that’s what I’ve got.”
I thanked him and hung up. Then I dialed the number he’d given me. “Aloha, this is Pika,” a deep male voice said. “I’m busy right now, showing off our beautiful island in my luxury limousine. But if you leave a message I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
“This is Detective Kanapa’aka with HPD. Please call me.” I left both my desk and cell numbers.
“There’s something fishy going on,” I said. “Why would this guy give a fake address to the dispatcher? And why didn’t they ever check it?”
“Great questions. Let me know when you get some answers.” Ray picked up the folder Peggy had given us. “We might as well get back to our paperwork.”
While we waited for Pika Campbell to call us back, or for Francisco Salinas to generate a match to the photo of the bodybuilder, we began the slow, tedious process of tracking down people involved in the cases Peggy had pulled for us.
“Let’s start with Lee Poe,” I said. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he’s living with the daughter of the man he thought cheated him out of his aunt’s estate.”
Ray called Stephanie’s cell phone, and discovered she and Lee were at their hotel, the Moana Surfrider, on Kalakaua in Waikiki. He arranged to meet them there.
The Moana Surfrider has been called the First Lady of Waikiki. Its history dates to 1901, when it was the height of elegance, with the first electric elevator in the islands. Even today it’s one of O’ahu’s most luxurious.
Stephanie and Lee were sharing a junior suite with a balcony that overlooked the curving beach, with Diamond Head looming in the distance. She sat with Ray in the living room, and I asked Lee if he’d come out to the balcony with me.
“How did you and Stephanie meet?” I asked him.
“We knew each other growing up. I was living in Portland and I ran into her there.”
“Kind of a coincidence, isn’t it?” I asked.
He shrugged. “There are a lot of Hawaiians in Oregon,” he said. “I went to Lewis and Clark, and I liked it and stayed. Stephanie had friends who went to the U of O, and she came to visit them and met her ex.”
“So no connection to the fact that you sued Alexander Fields over the disposition of your aunt’s estate?”
“That was years before Stephanie and I got together.”
“But it would be safe to say you held a grudge against her father?”
“I got into Buddhism after my aunt died.” He held up his wrist to show me a red string bracelet, connected with the Tibetan branch of the religion. “I learned to leave behind old problems and disappointments.”
“What do you do for a living now?”
“I’m between jobs. Stephanie was really upset by her dad’s diagnosis, and I’ve been looking after her.”
I wanted to say ‘sponging off her,’ but I held back. Maybe I am maturing as I get older. “Must be a nice change for you to get back to Honolulu. You both probably have lots of old friends here.”
Lee Poe was no fool. “You mean old friends who we could recruit to murder Alexander Fields? Neither of us has that kind of friends.”
“The thought never crossed my mind,” I said.
Lee turned around and went into the living room, and I followed. Ray stood up. “Thank you very much. I’m sure we’ll be back in touch to let you know what kind of progress we’re making.”
“That went nowhere,” I said to Ray, as we walked out through the hotel’s grand lobby, passing across the porch, where tourists sat in comfy rocking chairs. “Lee has a history with Fields, but he knew the man was dying. And there’s no financial motive since Stephanie already has money. Plus, how would he even know about the warehouse?”
“Stephanie seems genuinely broken up by her father’s death,” Ray said. “Unless there’s something we haven’t found yet, I don’t think she had a motive.”
It was quitting time, so I dropped Ray back at headquarters and drove home. I’d completely forgotten about Dakota during the day and as I drove up the hill toward our house I started to worry about what I might find.
When I approached the house I saw Dakota on the front lawn, throwing a stick for Roby to fetch. I pulled carefully into the driveway, and Roby came bounding over to me.
“I found a chicken in your freezer and put it in the oven,” Dakota said. “I hope that’s okay.”
“You know how to cook?”
He shrugged. “I had to learn, living with my mom.”
“How’d the studying go?” I asked, as we all walked inside.
“You want to know the difference between potential energy, biological energy and kinetic energy?” he asked.
“No, but thanks for the offer. I take it you read that?”
“Yeah. It was boring but not too hard.”
Mike got home a few minutes later, and we all sat down to eat together. “This is great, Dakota,” he said, after he tasted the chicken. “What else can you cook?”
Dakota shrugged. “Mostly stuff with pasta and rice. That’s usually what we had around, if my mom ever went shopping.”
I felt a sharpness in my chest. I hated to hear about any kid who didn’t get proper care, and it always reminded me how lucky I was to have grown up the way I did.
My cell rang after dinner. “How’s Dakota doing?” Terri asked.
I took the phone and stepped out into the back yard. “So far, so good. He studied like he was supposed to, and he cooked dinner.”
“You’re going to have to get him into the system sooner or later, you know.”
“I know. But let’s give him a couple of days to get settled with us.”
“What are you going to do about the other kids in that warehouse?”
“I don’t know. I ought to talk to Dakota about who’s there.”
“Well, you’re the detective. Go detect.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Gonsalves. If non-profit administration doesn’t work out for you, you can always come join the force. We’re pretty non-profit ourselves.”
“I’ve got enough on my plate as it is. Call me if you need anything.”
I thanked her and walked back inside. Mike and Dakota were cleaning up, and I sat down at the table. When they finished, I said, “Let’s talk about the place you were staying, Dakota.” I pointed to the chair next to me.
He looked shifty as he sat down. “What about it?”
Mike leaned up against the refrigerator.
“Who else was staying there with you?” I asked.
“Different people. It’s not like we signed leases or anything.”
“What kind of people? Kids?”
“Sometimes.”
“Dakota. If there are kids staying there, we need to get them someplace safe, where they can get food and clothes and get to go to school. Like you.”
“There was a girl,” Dakota said. “She was staying at the foster home where I was. She told me about the warehouse, and she and I ran away together.”
“Is she still there?” Mike asked.
Dakota shook his head. “One day she picked up her stuff and left. She wouldn’t tell me where she was going.” He looked up at us. “The only other people there are these two homeless guys.”
“You have anything there you want to go pick up?” Mike asked.
“I guess. But I don’t want to go back there at night. It’s creepy.”
“I can take you there tomorrow morning,” I said.
“Cool. Can we watch TV now? That’s the thing I missed the most.”
In that moment, Dakota looked like any other teenaged kid. And that was a pretty good thing.
Mike and I both hated the reality crap he wanted to watch, so we retreated to our bedroom. I could see Mike was hesitating to say something about our conversation the night before, so I jumped in, the way I always do.
“I haven’t changed my mind, even though I’m scared shitless at the thought of being responsible for a child. You’re still in, aren’t you?”
He nodded.
“Then let’s get this train rolling.” I picked up my phone and dialed Sandra Guarino’s cell phone.
“Kimo,” she said. “No legal emergency, I hope. I saw the video of Gunter’s stunt at the Boy Scout march yesterday.”
“No, nothing legal. Mike and I have been talking and... we’re in, if you are.”
I heard her relay the news to Cathy. Then she was back on the phone. “I’ll call the clinic tomorrow and have them start the test on the frozen sperm.” She paused. “What do you want to know?”
“What do you mean?”
“Suppose one of you passes the test and the other doesn’t.”
I looked at Mike. “We’re both in this together,” I said, and he nodded. Then he reached out and took my hand.