Beside Still Waters (24 page)

             
“The name of the taxi driver we’ve been looking for.”

~

             
An hour later as the seas swelled around the boat she was in Cindy was regretting her decision.  Her stomach was roiling, but at least this time she was tied up on deck and not down below.  Once they had been out of sight of land Mr. Black had allowed her to come up and take in some of the sea air as he put it.

             
She still had no clue what island she had been on and when she asked he refused to tell her.  She just prayed that when they made it to Oahu she found a way to keep stalling him.  She didn’t know just how long she could keep up the charade of being the courier and that she had hidden whatever it was that he was looking for.

             
Again she went over everything she had seen in Uncle’s restaurant, trying to figure out what it could be that he wanted.  It was possible whoever killed Uncle had taken it or that the police had bagged it as some sort of evidence.  There were too many things she didn’t know or understand to help her continue to lie to him effectively.

             
He was standing, leaning against the rail, a mai tai in his hand, looking for all the world like a rich playboy instead of a psychopathic criminal.

             
“Did you kill Uncle?” she asked suddenly, surprising herself.

             
He turned and looked at her.  “You don’t know who killed Uncle?” he asked.

             
“No,” she said, hoping it was okay to admit that.

             
“Then that’s something we have in common.  However, I’d very much like to know.  I don’t appreciate people killing my colleagues without my leave.”

             
“Do you think it was random?” she asked.

             
He snorted.  “No more than you do.  No, it was a targeted attack.  Idiots probably hoped to put a dent in my business.  Although, I long suspected I wasn’t the only one in the islands that Uncle was working for.”

             
She remembered what Kapono had told her about his suspicions.  “You think he was laundering money for someone else, too?”

             
“It stands to reason.”

             
“Then maybe one of them killed him.”

             
“It’s possible.  Uncle might have crossed one of his other business partners, but I don’t think so.  He was a crook, but he was always straight in his dealings with me.  He could have retired a very wealthy man if he wanted to.  All he had to do was keep playing straight with everyone for a couple of more years.”

             
“You actually believe in honor among thieves?” she asked.

             
He smiled, a chilling sight.  “Thieves?  No.  Businessmen?  Yes.  Uncle never took anything that didn’t belong to him, at least not that I know.  He provided a service to select people who needed it and charged a fee for that service.  A fee I happily paid for fifteen years.”

             
“He didn’t seem like a rich man,” Cindy ventured.  At the very least if his restaurant was his front she would have thought he would have put a little more into it.  Then again, maybe he lived in a fancy house or kept his wealth well-hidden.

             
Mr. Black shrugged.  “I don’t know what he did with his money.  That was business.  All I care about is what he did with my money.”  He gave her a hard look.  “And that’s
our
business.”

             
Cindy wasn’t sure how much further to push her luck in discussing all this with Mr. Black.  How many questions could she ask before he began to suspect that she had been telling the truth in the beginning, that she really did have no idea what he was looking for or where it was?

             
He was laundering money through Uncle’s restaurant.  Think, what could it be that he actually wanted from Uncle?

             
She wracked her brain.  Money was an obvious answer.  She remembered the cash in the cash register and the money in the tip jar.  Maybe the killer hadn’t bothered because it was small change compared to what he was after.  But would Uncle really have had stacks of cash sitting around waiting to give to Mr. Black or one of his lackeys?  It seemed unlikely to her.  On television drug dealers always did deals in cash.  But this was real life, and, as Mr. Black had put it, a business transaction, hiding the true source of the income.  Maybe it wasn’t done the same way.

             
Maybe it was done by checks or money orders.
  There were lots of ways for people to transfer money without having to use briefcases of cash like in some gangster film.  Maybe they used one of those methods.  They could even have made the transfer by credit card for all she knew.

             
She blinked as a thought hit her. 
Or by wire transfers.

             
And that’s when she remembered the business card that the taxi driver had given her.  The one that he had told her to show to Uncle.  The one that didn’t look exactly like a normal business card but had a long series of numbers on it.  She gasped as she realized Mr. Black was right.  She had been in possession of what he wanted even though she wasn’t any longer.

             
But she knew who was.  She squeezed her eyes shut.  How was she going to convince Mr. Black that the information he wanted was in a police station?

             
“Something wrong?” she heard him ask.

             
“I’m getting more seasick, and I think I’m going to throw up,” she said.  It was at least partially true.

15

             
True to his word, Kapono arrived in fifteen minutes.  To Jeremiah, though, it seemed like an eternity while he waited to hear who the taxi driver was that had sent Cindy to Uncle’s.  Marge and Al were both visibly relieved when the detective showed up.

             
Kapono had clearly come straight from the hospital.  In lieu of one shirt sleeve he had white bandages wrapped around his arm.  He listened slack-jawed as Jeremiah explained everything to him.  During several points in the narrative Marge nodded enthusiastically while Al just sat groaning on the floor.

             
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the big detective finally said.

             
Jeremiah shook his head grimly. 

             
“There’s going to be the devil to pay sorting out all those remains.  I don’t envy whoever has to deal with the Burial Council on that one.”

             
“It’s terrible and I’m sure it’s going to be a mess for quite a while,” Jeremiah said, frustration bubbling to the surface.  “But, of course, the worst part is, they have nothing to do with the kidnapping.”

             
“Ah, but the cab driver has to,” Kapono said, reaching into his shirt pocket.  “My guys finished narrowing down the list of drivers it couldn’t be and then we took the remaining drivers and compared them to the description Cindy gave me.  Everything points to one guy, named Manny.”

             
“Let me guess, he hasn’t shown up to work today?”

             
“No, he’s working.  Best part is, he’s got a fare he’s driving in from the north shore as we speak and he has no idea we’re looking for him.  His dispatcher is really helping us out with this one.”

             
“Great, so let’s go grab him when he drops off his passenger.”

             
Kapono glanced away.

             
“What’s wrong?” Jeremiah asked sharply.

             
“We’ve talked to a couple of guys who have dealt with him before.  They’re under the impression that Manny won’t talk for anything.”

             
“He will if I break his legs,” Jeremiah growled.

             
“Which, officially, I can’t let you do,” Kapono said.

             
Jeremiah stared hard at the detective who steadfastly was refusing to meet his eyes.

             
Just then a couple of uniformed officers entered the room.  Kapono waved them over and pointed to Al.  “Make sure and read him his rights while I go take some more statements.”

             
As the officers were taking charge of Al, Kapono grabbed Jeremiah’s arm and steered him toward the door.  Outside in the hall they moved toward the elevators until they were well out of earshot of the room.  Finally Kapono stopped, but Jeremiah noticed he still wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

             
“You know, Cindy is a nice wahine.”

             
“Very nice,” Jeremiah agreed.  “Borders on a saint in my book.”

             
“And we’re well outside the range of time where kidnapping victims have a chance of coming back home.”

             
“I know.”

             
Kapono pulled a small disc out of his pocket and handed it to Jeremiah.  “Just do me a favor and wear this tracker so that we can find you.”

             
Without saying anything Jeremiah bent down, pulled up his left pant leg, and stuffed the tracker down inside his sock and into the top of the shoe.  When he straightened back up Kapono was nodding approval.

             
Next Kapono handed Jeremiah a slip of paper.

             
“We’re going to be taking him down when he reaches this location.  Now, for your own safety, I don’t want to see you anywhere near the place.  You should go home and wait for a phone call.  You understand?”

             
“Perfectly,” Jeremiah said.

             
“You know, I should put your okole back on a plane right now.”

             
“You couldn’t,” Jeremiah said simply.

             
“Yeah, I know, but I feel like I should at least try.”

             
He could see the struggle Kapono was going through.  Every instinct he had as a cop was to get Jeremiah out of the equation because he was a civilian and a loose cannon. 

             
“It would be a waste of everyone’s time if you did, especially when we have more important things to worry about,” Jeremiah said, and he reached out and very deliberately patted Kapono on the arm, exactly where he’d gotten shot, just hard enough to make the detective wince.

             
“Remember, I don’t want to see you anywhere near there,” Kapono said, taking a step back out of arm’s reach.

             
“Don’t worry,” Jeremiah said.  “You won’t.”

~

             
Mark’s eyes were blurring as he stared at the computer screen.  He’d exhausted every last lead he could think of and no one would agree to talk to him.  He was beginning to think that he would never know the truth about his former partner.

             
The phone rang and he answered.  “Hello?”

             
“Mark, it’s William over here in Hawaii.”

             
“Any word on Cindy yet?” Mark asked, his stomach twisting itself into a knot as he heard his friend’s voice.

             
“Nothing yet, we’re still tracking down leads.”

             
There was a pause...too long, and Mark began to wonder why William had really called.  “What’s going on?” he finally asked.

             
“I was just wondering, how well do you know the rabbi?”

             
Mark turned away from his computer and his eyes fell on a picture of him and Paul.  “I guess as well as anyone can know anyone else,” he said softly.

             
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

             
“Oh, yeah, I’ve known him for just over a year.  He’s a good guy.  He plays things a bit close to the vest, but he’s a real white knight.  Why do you ask?”

             
There was another lengthy pause.

             
“William?  Something hasn’t happened to him, has it?”

             
“To him?  No.  But he’s been here less than twenty-four hours and he’s already helped expose a drug trafficking ring, identified a killer and caught his co-conspirator in a scandal that’s going to rock this island for some time, and gotten one of my best detectives shot in the shoulder.”

             
And for some reason Mark couldn’t help but smile.  “What can I say?  He’s not going to leave any stone unturned until he finds Cindy.  And heaven help whoever’s standing in his way.”