The Soul Stealer (5 page)

When she went into the main room of the shop, Malia was surprised to see Detective Green standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking awkward in a room full women’s clothes and accessories.

“Detective Green,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

“Good morning.” He smiled briefly and then looked around at the two female customers browsing through racks of dresses and then at Lani. “Is there some place private we can talk?”

Lani shot Malia a look of pointed concern behind the detective’s back.

“Sure, I’ll make you a cup of coffee in the back of the shop.” Malia led him through the maze of dress racks and then through an open doorway to a small room. She didn’t usually take people there because it was a little too dark and the walls were bare brick, but there was a round table next to a counter with a sink and coffee pot. Only one window at the top of the brick wall let in air, but the ceiling fan kept the heat from becoming too stifling, and the bricks somehow kept the room cooler than it should be.

The detective sat down with straight posture at the table and tried to look casual by folding his arms, but the move was too calculated to be natural. His short-sleeved aloha shirt revealed tanned forearms covered by a matt of blond hair. The gun holstered in his belt stuck out like a beacon.

“What can I do for you, detective?” Malia pulled ground coffee, creamer and sugar packets from the refrigerator. Things went stale so quickly in the humidity, so she tended to put any consumable in the refrigerator. Besides, powdered creamer and sugar usually attracted ants, or worse, if left on the counter.

He watched closely as she made coffee and got a mug out of the cupboard. The memory of drinking coffee while sitting across the table from a gorgeous guy in a black T-shirt fleeted through Malia’s mind, so she shook her head slightly to erase the image and concentrate on the present task.

She handed the detective the coffee mug.

“Thank you,” he said in a stiff manner, but his smile was appreciative.

She sat down at the table and waited for the detective to speak.

“There was a robbery at an ATM near here last night that was a bit unusual, so I wanted to make sure you’re all right. Did you notice anyone different hanging around on the street yesterday?”

“Unusual?”

Detective Green put his cup down and attempted a reassuring smile, but it didn’t work very well on his face. “It wasn’t a big deal; no one got hurt.”

“Then why are you here?” She met his gaze and waited for an explanation.

“The victim was a transvestite hooker who frequently gets hauled in to the station, so we know her. She’s usually very calm and cool, but last night she was shook up . . . quite a bit. . . and came in of her own accord.” Again he hesitated.

“Well, getting robbed could be traumatizing.” Malia wondered why he seemed so hesitant.

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed with a nod. “But she claimed the perpetrator held a dagger to her throat.”

“A dagger?”

“Yes, she said it was a dagger, not a knife, but a dagger,” Detective Green said. He looked Malia straight in the eye. “We think the recent murder victim was decapitated with a dagger. They’re longer and thinner than most knives, and make a different cut than, say, a kitchen knife or a hatchet. But our friend, the transvestite, would have no way of knowing that. So it’s interesting to us that there have been two crimes committed by someone with a dagger in the last couple of weeks.”

Malia’s heart stopped as the next question formed in her mind. “Was my mother beheaded with a dagger, too?” She couldn’t breathe as she waited for his response.

“No.”

“Oh,” she said with some relief, not wanting to think her mother’s killer was lurking around China Town.

“We aren’t sure what that murder weapon was, but it was more like a sword of some sort. Forensics weren’t as sophisticated back then, but the cut marks on your mother’s neck were made from something unidentified—an unknown metal. That’s the mystery of your mother’s case, really.” He looked up from his coffee to see the look on her face. “Sorry, too much information.”

She felt the color drain from her skin as she raised the coffee mug to her lips. Malia swallowed the dark liquid and tried to relax.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dredge all this up for you again,” Detective Green said in a kind voice. “I really just wanted to make sure you are all right, and that you haven’t seen anyone around on the street who seems out of place. Or encountered anyone unusual?”

She shook her head and tried to smile, knowing she couldn’t tell this police detective she had encountered a very unusual man—extraordinary, really, but not a killer. She felt too good when she was with him.

Malia tried to still her drumming heart by putting Hunter out of her thoughts, but it was better to think of him than her mother. Thoughts of Hunter brought the warmth back to her skin.

“These two crimes are most likely not related. The bank robber probably had some sort of pocket knife and ran off when he realized he was robbing a man, and not a helpless woman, and our hooker let her imagination run away with her. After all, she did claim he vanished into thin air.”

“Right.”

Detective Green sighed and ran his fingers through his thick, short hair. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to upset you. Would you let me make it up to you by having dinner with me tomorrow night?”

Malia raised her eyebrows, not knowing what to say as a blush filled her cheeks.

“Now I’m really making you uncomfortable, aren’t I?”

“No, no. I, uhhh. . . that would be nice. . . to have dinner with you. Of course.” Malia shut her mouth to keep from rambling. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to have dinner with him, but his invitation was so out of left field it caught her off guard. It had been a long time since a guy had asked her for a date.

“Should I pick you up here after work tomorrow?” He now seemed more at ease and smiled freely.

“Oh, uh, no. I’m not open on Saturdays. How about I meet you somewhere?”

T
he house was quiet when Hunter let himself in with Malia’s key, which he’d kept earlier that morning. Max wagged his tail and looked at Hunter with a bright face but didn’t move from his cushy bed in the corner of the kitchen. The dog was enchanted by Hunter, as were most animals. Too bad humans could be more resistant,
Hunter thought with a sigh. And Malia was particularly stubborn in that way. Or, her mother had cast a strong spell on her daughter before she had died, but that would have been at least a dozen years ago, so it should have worn off by now. He stood in the middle of the kitchen with his hands on his hips and looked around, noticing as much detail in every item as possible.

Hunter went to the table and looked at it. He didn’t need to even touch it to feel the strong male presence in the dark, lush wood. Someone had spent many hours working the wood, bringing it to the luster it now had, and the crafter had done it with loving hands. The woodworker was kind and had a tender heart. Hunter smiled, deciding he liked Malia’s father very much.

Max followed at his heels as Hunter made his way through the house, touching things here and there to feel the energy contained in each object as he looked for something important to Malia. He needed to find an object she put her highest vibration into in order for his spell to be strong enough to counteract anything Andrea had done. It shouldn’t be too difficult because, from what Hunter had heard, Malia’s mother had been an amateur and just dabbled in magic as a hobby. Magic had not been in Andrea’s DNA. So far, though, nothing in the house held Malia’s pure positive energy.

Negative energy was in everything he touched. An overwhelming low vibration reverberated in the house, which made Hunter realize there had been more sadness than happiness for its inhabitants
.
More disturbing than any spell Andrea might have cast on her daughter was the damage her death had done to Malia’s spirit. She might be too damaged by past pain to believe in love. If that were true, Hunter may as well go home now because no spell he could cast would counteract something like that.

He sighed heavily, wondering what to do. He needed something with positive energy that belonged to Malia. Max sat and looked up at Hunter with hopeful eyes. Hunter blinked as he looked down, and then he bent and petted Malia’s dog. As he did so, he pulled a single strand of hair from Max and held it up for a closer inspection. Just what he needed! He pulled the tin box from his leather bag and carefully put the hair in one empty section. Hunter petted Max again in appreciation and then went in to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. It might take some time to cast this particular spell.

“What did he want?” Lani asked after Detective Green left and her customer was in the fitting room. Her voice was mixed with curiosity and concern.

“Apparently to ask me out to dinner,” Malia replied with a frown as she looked at the front door of the shop. The bell at the top of the door was still ringing as a signal of his departure. It had been a strange and stressful day, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about going out with the detective, but it was too late to turn him down. They had agreed to meet at a popular restaurant on the Windward side the following evening.

“Oh!”

“He said he came by to tell me about a robbery in the area, but I think it was just an excuse. After all, people get mugged in this area all the time, especially in the middle of the night.”

“That’s true,” Lani said with a knowing smile. “He’s cute. You should go.”

“Yeah, I am.” Malia started to straighten things around the shop to avoid Lani’s sly smile. “I’ve got lots of paperwork to do, so I’ll be in the back if you need me.”

She retreated to the back room and immersed herself in a stack of bills that needed to be paid so she wouldn’t have to think of anything else. She sat down at the antique desk in the corner and turned on the computer. The smell of dust on the stack of invoices made her realize she hadn’t paid the bills lately. Although her eyes locked onto the computer screen as if she were deep into number crunching, in reality she was processing everything that had happened in the last few days.

First, she had met a gorgeous and mysterious stranger who was now her tenant—an odd, but interesting, twist of fate. Second, a woman had been murdered in the same brutal way that her mother had been fourteen years ago, dredging up all sorts of buried emotions. Third, she had finally gotten the nerve to have Alex sign the divorce papers, a task that was long overdue. Now, she was free from all legal obligations to him. Fourth, she had an actual dinner date with an attractive man who had gainful employment. She didn’t know how she felt about that last one, but she decided to keep an open mind, because it was a step in the right direction. She smiled and tried to focus on the numbers on the spreadsheet, but a nugget of excitement surged inside. Life was finally moving forward.

Boredom and routine had seemed a path to peace for quite a while, but the bliss had worn thin lately. Malia was ready to start living again, take chances, and maybe even have a little fun. She would block out any dark or negative memories and fears—she was good at that—and focus on enjoying herself. It was an odd concept, one that didn’t quite fit her normal mode, yet it was an exciting notion: to have fun.

Malia couldn’t really remember the last time she had fun. There must have been some good times with Alex at some point in their relationship. They wouldn’t have spent so many years together if they hadn’t had any fun. She stared at the brick wall trying to remember something in her relationship with Alex that had been fun and exciting. Maybe it was the time they went to the State Fair and ate cotton candy and went on rides until they both felt sick. Of course, that was when they were seniors in high school, but it was fun. She sighed. Maybe she should cling to routine and boredom a little while longer. These habits fit like a pair of old shoes and were much more comfortable than a new, fun pair that might turn out to give her blisters.

She shook her head to clear it of all the nonsense and turned her attention back to the task at hand. She didn’t notice the time ticking by as she wrote out checks and updated her accounts, while the constant ringing of the bell on the front door indicated a busy day in the store. Malia didn’t even break for lunch. She felt guilty for not going out front to help Lani, but she just didn’t have the energy. Sitting at the computer with a spreadsheet in front of her was a better option than trying to be charming to customers. Lani was much better at that any day of the week.

Lani came into the office. “I’m really impressed, girlfriend. You’ve been holding out on me,” she said as she walked up to the desk with her arms crossed in front and a broad smile on her face.

“Huh?” Malia blinked. After hours of squinting at numbers in a small typeface, it was difficult to focus on a person.

“Two in one day! And the second one’s even hotter than the first.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The guy who just walked in the door, asking for you.”

Malia shook her head. “Who?”

“I dunno, but he’s hot! Sort of a bad boy in a black t-shirt and straight-legged black jeans. Definitely not local, though.”

“Oh,” Malia said as she looked toward the doorway to the public area of the shop. “That’s Hunter.”

“Great name, too!”

Malia took a deep breath and stood up. “What’s he doing here?”

“Go find out,” Lani answered as she pushed Malia toward the doorway and followed not more than half a step behind.

Hunter was browsing through a rack of dresses from the 1960s with a warm smile that made his violet blue eyes glow. The two women stopped to admire the sight.

When he spotted Malia standing there, “Hi,” he said with an even brighter smile. “This is a great place. It’s filled with so much history.” He let his hand linger on a dress from the 1950s and looked as if he were listening to it talk.

Malia froze, unable to form thoughts or words. Lani elbowed her in the ribs to get her to respond. “Uh, thanks,” Malia said.

“Brilliant response,” Lani muttered under her breath.

Hunter looked from Malia to Lani and then back to Malia. His eyes were now curious as they settled again on Lani. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi, I’m Lani. Malia’s best friend.”

“And I’m Hunter. Malia’s. . . uh. . . tenant.”

“Oh,” Lani said with a nod. “You didn’t tell me you rented Tutu’s studio.” She turned to Malia with raised eyebrows.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Malia said to him, ignoring Lani.

“I was in the area and hoped you might be able to give me a ride home.”

“We’re not going home after work,” Lani chimed in. “We’re going for drinks with my boyfriend. Want to come?”

Malia shot Lani a pointed look.

“Sure,” Hunter said with his beautiful, crooked smile.

“You know, the shop doesn’t close for another hour, so we’re not leaving for awhile,” Malia said, hoping she could talk him out of it. It was too difficult to breathe when Hunter was around. She straightened the dress and hat hanging in the front window, trying to look busy.

Hunter shrugged. “That’s okay. I have to go get some money. I’ll be back.”

Lani and Malia watched his broad-shouldered lanky frame as he disappeared through the door. The way he moved was almost hypnotic. Malia’s heart beat a little more normally after he was gone, and she turned to Lani and slapped her across the arm. “What were you doing asking him to go out with us? We don’t even have plans tonight.”

“I dunno. It slipped out. I’d better call Eric and tell him we’re meeting for drinks in an hour. Just think, you have two dates in two days. I bet that’s a record for you.”

“Thanks a lot, and this is not a date with Hunter. I’m not dating my tenant. That’s a little too close to home.”

“I meant that Alex was the only boy you ever dated. Plenty of guys wanted to ask you out in high school, but they knew better,” Lani said as she looked for Eric’s number on her cell phone.

“They were all too afraid of me. I was that girl whose mother was murdered. Alex was the only one who didn’t treat me like a freak.” Malia felt a pang. Sometimes she missed the Alex she once knew. Never again would she give her heart away.

“Why are you renting the studio, anyway?”

“I saw Hunter on the street, and he seemed sick, so I stopped to help him. Turns out, he didn’t have a place to live, so I kind of let him stay there,” Malia muttered, hoping Lani didn’t really hear the explanation since she was now speaking to Eric on the phone, too.

Lani stopped talking into the phone and looked at Malia. “What did you just say? You picked up a sick, homeless guy off the street and took him home?” Lani hung up on Eric after promising to call him right back.

Malia shrugged and walked to the cash register to count the day’s earnings. Lani went to the counter and stood in front of the register with hands on her hips as she waited for Malia to explain.

“He’s the guy,” Malia said under her breath, not looking up from the money she was counting.

“The guy?”

“You know, the guy I spotted every day on Nu’uanu Avenue. I drove down the hill; he walked up the hill.”

“The guy? Oh, the guy!” Lani put her hand over her mouth. “You had better be careful, girlfriend, with that one. He could be trouble. But you were right, he’s definitely hot. I can see why you looked forward to seeing him every day. I guess now you don’t have to wait for your drive to work to admire him. He’ll be right downstairs whenever you want to get your fix.”

Malia nodded and kept counting, not wanting to have this conversation. Lani knew too many of her secrets. “Let’s not talk about this anymore,” she said with a pointed stare at Lani.

“Really, though, Li Li, be careful. You don’t know him.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want to get too close to him,” Malia said as she put the cash into a canvas bag and then went into the back room to lock it in a safe until Eric had time to make the deposit. He made the deposits for them whenever he came by the shop because Malia and Lani didn’t feel comfortable doing it on their own. The safe was old, and the dial turned slowly, so it took Malia a few minutes to complete the task. Then she closed the spreadsheet and filed it away, turning off the computer.

Next, she stopped in the bathroom to let down her hair and put a comb through it, so it didn’t look ratty as it draped down to her waist. When she was done fussing with her hair, she reattached the plumeria flower behind her right ear, and then applied plum-colored lip gloss. Even if she didn’t plan to get involved with Hunter, she still wanted to look her best. Her stomach growled with hunger; she hadn’t eaten all day. The thought of a cheeseburger made her mouth water.

She came out of the bathroom and stopped short. Lani and Eric were locked in a kiss in the middle of the shop. Their noticeable passion was surprising because they had been a couple for a long time but rarely displayed any sort of affection. Malia watched them and wondered how it would be to find your perfect mate, if such a thing were possible. Just then, Hunter walked through the open front door of the shop.

He stopped so as not to disturb the couple embracing in the middle of the room. There was a look of wonder on his face as he watched them, and then Hunter turned toward Malia. The fire in his eyes captivated her. It felt like he caressed her from across the room—an intimate, yearning caress. Heat filled Malia’s body, and her heart pounded in her ears. She didn’t try to hide the flush in her cheeks or take her eyes from his, but she had to put her hand on the nearest dress rack for support in case her knees buckled.

“Oops! Sorry guys,” Lani said with a smile, as she and Eric noticed they weren’t alone. “Eric, this is Hunter, Malia’s tenant.”

Eric put his hand out to Hunter, who took it cautiously, as if he wasn’t sure what would happen.

Lani put her arm through Malia’s and half dragged her into the back of the shop. “Sorry, I didn’t know he was standing there,” Lani whispered.

“I’ve never seen you two kiss like that before.”

“You think I’ve been with Eric all these years for nothin’?” Lani grabbed a couple of sweaters and gave one to Malia. “Let’s go,” she said with a wink.