Blood Orchids (16 page)

Chapter 32

The storage container was hot and unventilated. She, Jeremy, and Stevens, particle masks and latex gloves on, spent hours in the stifling metal room sorting through boxes of old fishing gear, outdated college textbooks, clothes that should have gone to Goodwill, and some furniture in a heavy baroque style that looked too expensive to give away and too ugly to sell—probably inherited. After the first hour they didn’t say much, simply shaking, sorting, and reshuffling.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Lei asked at one point, after dislodging a nest of cockroaches from a box of Kelly’s old stuffed animals.

“Photography equipment. Bondage stuff. I don’t know, we’ll know it when we see it.” They didn’t see it.

Jeremy yanked the drawers out of an ornate desk against the far wall, one of the few areas where a clear pathway existed from the door of the unit. He dumped the contents of the drawers at Stevens’ feet. Postit notes, highlighter pens, boxes of paper clips, a pile of floppy disks, and a jangle of metal spilled onto the floor.

“Hey!” Stevens cried, as Jeremy tossed the drawer aside and reached for another one.

Lei looked up from her box of old cassette tapes as Stevens stooped and, using a pencil, hooked up the tangle of gleaming metal. He held it up to the light. Lei scrambled up and Jeremy came forward to look. Threaded onto a key ring were a traditional gold Hawaiian bangle bracelet, a necklace with a locket, and a delicate gold signet-type ring.

“That desk is a weird place to store jewelry.” Stevens used his gloved finger to part the items. “This bracelet says Kealoha. Isn’t that our rape vic Cassie’s last name?” He gently pried open the locket. Inside was a photo of a small blonde girl. Finally he poked the ring, and the Gothic letter
H
picked out in black enamel caught the light.

“That looks like it could be the ring Haunani’s grandmother gave her!” Lei exclaimed. The three of them looked up and Stevens’ teeth gleamed through smudges of grime as he grinned.

“I think we finally got Reynolds with this physical evidence.” With that Stevens stepped outside to call Harada.

Lei and Jeremy followed him out, eager for some fresh air, and waited in awkward silence in the shade of the building as Stevens made the call.

“Good news. Harada signed the arrest warrant. Jeremy, let’s go pick him up. Lei, I’ll send Pono over here to help you finish up. I’ll see you later tonight for surveillance.”

“No need for that. Got a dinner date and haven’t heard from the stalker in days,” Lei said, shaking out a box filled with yarn balls. They bounced across the concrete floor and she groaned.

“Who?” Even strapping his weapon back on in preparation to leave, she got the intensity of his full attention.

“Tom Watanabe. No big deal, I got out of the thing the other day, but I still need to check him out closer and I guess . . . he wants to check me out too.”

“I’ll see you later, about 8:00 p.m.,” he said, and strode out. Apparently he still thought she needed a babysitter.

Jeremy glared at her over his shoulder as he followed Stevens, and Lei flipped him off behind his back. Bastard got to be in on the Reynolds bust, and had the nerve to give her ‘stink-eye’ while she was stuck in this toaster oven of a storage unit.

Pono showed up and they spent the rest of the day in fruitless sweaty searching while the detectives arrested Reynolds and interviewed him. Lei would have given her right arm to be in on it.

Evening cast long shadows when she walked up onto Tom Watanabe’s porch. She’d taken a brief moment at home to strip off her filthy uniform, splash her face and wind her hair up and pin it with a chopstick, throw on a tank top and jeans. She still felt far from date-worthy—good thing she was just trying to get information out of him. Ambivalence rose up yet again but it was too late; she’d already reached his house and tapped on the door.

He opened it, an oven mitt on his hand.

“Hey,” she said, pointing at the mitt. “I like a man in proper gear.” He laughed, embarrassed, whipping it off.

“Come in,” he said. “I was just giving up on you.”

“Yeah, sorry I’m late. We had a lot going on today with work.”

“It’s okay. The shoyu chicken was just getting a little dry and I pulled it out of the oven.” She followed him through the house. Gleaming dark wood floors enhanced spare décor: a black leather couch, low enameled coffee table, and a flat-screen TV mounted above an obsidian Buddha. A framed obi, the wide traditional belt used to close kimono, was centered over the couch.

She pointed at it. “Your grandmother’s?”

“Yes. It’s over a hundred years old.”

Lei went over, folding her hands behind her back, leaning close. The wide fabric belt was intricately worked silk, tiny coiling dragons curling around the edge.

“Beautiful,” she said. “It must be nice to have this history.”

“Not always.” Tom led her into the remodeled kitchen, all chrome and grey granite. “Comes with a lot of expectations.” He opened the fridge and took out a bottle of white wine. “Something to drink?”

“Sure.”

“Why don’t we check out the orchids while the food cools down?” He handed her a glass of the chilled wine.

“Okay.” She followed him out the back door. The greenhouse was a sturdy little glass and wood structure, neatly painted and maintained as everything was. They stepped inside and Lei caught her breath in wonder.

Sprays of vibrant dendrobium tangled with the fragile moth shapes of phalaenopsis. Huge, lacey cattleyas thrust showy blossoms forward, spilling delicate fragrance. She leaned close to one, a glowing fuschia.

“I’ve never been able to get these to bloom,” she said, touching the ruffled cup with a finger.

“The secret,” he said, holding a mister aloft, “is liquid fertilizer sprayed on once a week and the right climate conditions. Now I’ve told you, I might have to kill you.”

“You threatening a police officer?” She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes.

“I was just trying to be funny.” He laughed, that nervous chuckle.

“Whatever,” she said, reaching for the door handle. The charm of the greenhouse was lost.

“Wait!” He went down the aisle and plucked an orchid plant off the shelf. “This is a new variety. It reminded me of you.”

She took it. The phalaenopsis’s stem arched up from a base of dark leaves, three perfect butterfly blossoms perched on it. They were creamy white with chocolate edges, a spatter of fawn freckles across the petals. She couldn’t help smiling.

“This is sweet. Thanks.”

He rubbed his hands on his jeans.

“Let’s go have some dinner.”

They sat in the bamboo-floored dining area at a traditional, sunken Japanese table and ate the shoyu chicken, rice, and fresh green beans he’d kept crisp and flavorful.

“Mm. I always overcook green beans,” Lei said.

“Just drop them in boiling water for two or three minutes, strain them out,” he said. “Now tell me about yourself.”

“Not much to tell. I was born on Oahu and ended up here. I love what I do, and I’m working on making detective.” Lei belatedly remembered she wanted to pump him for information. “So what’s involved with your job?”

“Nothing as interesting as yours. I’m in charge of monitoring the diversion facilities, making sure our water pressure’s good. We have some of the heaviest rainfall in the Islands, and we send a lot of our water to Kona side because it’s so dry. All those ditches require a lot of monitoring.” He took another bite. “Keeps me busy.”

It would be easy for him to know about a remote but accessible area like the stream where Kelly and Haunani were drowned. Lei took another bite, reminding herself her stalker wasn’t connected with the murders, though the black truck seemed to cross into both cases.

“You’re quiet.”

“Just tired.” She put her chopsticks down abruptly. “Why’d you ask me out?”

He shrugged, did that awkward laugh. “You’re single and cute. You live down the street. I like you. What else should I say?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry. I’ve just gotten used to interrogating people, being suspicious.”

She felt panicky suddenly, claustrophobic. She swiveled to the side, stood up as gracefully as she could in the sunken bench, climbed out. “Listen, this has been nice but I need to go. Thanks for dinner.”

“Wow, okay.” He tossed down his napkin and followed her through the house. “Let’s get together again sometime.”

“Sure,” Lei said. “Thanks again.”

She fled out the front door, her heart thundering. Halfway down the block, with a pang of regret Lei realized she’d left the spotted orchid behind. She was such a freak, he was probably never going to speak to her again let alone give her that orchid.

Keiki flung herself against the fence in an ecstasy of doggy welcome. Lei checked the mail, barely able to keep from running into the house, her skin clammy and heart pounding. Still nothing from the stalker—nothing since she’d chased the truck days ago. Thank God. Maybe it was over.

It felt wonderful to deactivate the alarm, let the dog in, reset it, and take a shower—knowing she was safe at last.

She tried to think about why she’d freaked out at Tom’s but her mind wouldn’t go there. She just didn’t know—but it felt like a classic panic attack. She thought over the whole evening and he hadn’t said or done anything really suspicious. He just seemed like a lonely, awkward guy that liked to grow orchids and keep a very clean house and yard. That in itself was strange, for a guy . . .

She let herself smile at that as hot water pounded down on her shoulders, loosening the knots of tension that remained from the day. Maybe the panic attack wasn’t about Tom at all. Mary’s still face appeared in her mind, bringing grief like a wave of nausea.

The shower water had cooled, and she got out, wrapping in a big white towel. The doorbell rang just as she’d climbed into her PJs and pulled her old cotton kimono over them. She went to the door and put her eye to it, then opened it for Stevens. He held out the fawn-spotted orchid to her.

“This was sitting on your mat. Something nice from the stalker?”

“No.” Lei took the delicate plant, let the way into the house. “Tom Watanabe gave it to me.” She felt bad again for running out on him, but there was still something off about the guy.

“How was dinner with Watanabe?”

“Good food, lousy conversation. How was picking up Reynolds?”

“Guy’s pissed as hell, says he’s being framed. Almost got to Tase him.” Stevens broke into a grin. “It would have been great but he settled right down when I got my weapon out, alas. He clammed up tight, though, so the interview was a waste of time.”

“Speaking of waste of time—finishing the storage unit qualified.”

“Sorry about that. I picked it because I thought it a more likely hiding place.”

“Yeah, I figured. You hungry?”

“I know better than to expect anything when I come over, but some water to replace the liquids I lost today would be nice.”

Lei got a bottle out of the fridge and handed it to him. She was so tired it was hard to think clearly. An awkward silence descended.

“I told you, you didn’t need to come over. This really has to stop.” Lei pushed her damp hair back with both hands, blew out a breath.

“What do you mean?”

“You spending the night. The stalker’s stopped bothering me ever since the truck chase. It’s over, and he never did anything dangerous in the first place. I feel so stupid about putting you and Pono out. It’s really time for it to end.”

“You said not to make it your fault.” Stevens sighed, rubbed his bottle back and forth across his flat stomach. “It’s not your fault. The stalker might not have attacked, but he could be a real threat.”

“It’s just . . . this whole thing. It’s hard because it reminds me how unsafe I am. You know why I have all these locks and the alarm?”

“I wondered.”

“Because I was molested when I was a kid. It fucked me up.” She’d decided to tell him, but it wasn’t making her feel better. Instead, her stomach clenched.

“Hell isn’t good enough for scum who do things to kids. I’m sorry that happened to you. I wondered if something did, all your security measures.”

“My mom had a drug problem. My dad got her hooked before he went to prison for dealing. Her boyfriend was the one who worked me over, and when he broke up with her she overdosed. I was nine.”

A long pause as he digested this, his eyes blue shadows. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Then he smiled a lopsided smile that twisted her heart.

“Cheers.” He held his plastic bottle out, she clinked her water glass against it. “Your dead-ass mom tops my drunk-ass mom.”

They drank, the ironic toast of children of substance abusers. He went on.

“I told you I had a friend I let down before by not taking a situation like this seriously, and I won’t let it happen again.”

“Who was she?”

“My best friend growing up. She had a nasty boyfriend in college. He stalked her after they broke up and she kept telling me about it. I thought she was exaggerating, told her she was making drama. He killed her. That’s when I changed my major to Criminal Justice and joined the force.”

“I appreciate you telling me that, but I’m not that friend. In fact, I don’t want to just be your friend,” she said. She held his gaze. Dark blue eyes, intense and wary, met hers. She leaned over to kiss him, a tentative brush of the lips.

“Damn,” he said, reaching over to pull her into his arms. “I don’t want to be your friend either.” He kissed her, pent-up hunger making their teeth click. Lei pulled away eventually, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Ouch. Smooth move.”

“You’re right about one thing.” He stood up. “This can’t go on.”

“Finally.” Lei picked up the empty water bottle and glass, took them to the sink. “Let’s wrap up this investigation and go on a date like two sane adults.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Or we could just sleep together,” she said. He stood speechless, and then reached for her again. She dodged, laughing, leading him to the door. This flirting thing was getting easier. Maybe she’d just needed some practice. She handed him his duffel, discarded by the entrance.