Dead in Kihei (An Eddie Naku Maui Mystery)

By R. Barri Flowers

From award winning crime writer R. Barri Flowers and the bestselling author of the Murder in Hawaii Mysteries, comes the second book in the Hawaii detective series, Dead in Kihei: An Eddie Naku Maui Mystery.

Private investigator Eddie Naku's latest case involves the apparent suicide of a friend and fellow private eye, Frank Iwamoto, who fell from the lanai of his 8th story condo to his death.

Naku refuses to believe Iwamoto was suicidal, in spite of evidence to the contrary. Proving he was murdered won't be easy, but Naku is not about to give up. In the process, he comes up with a number of suspects, twists, and turns, as well as Frank Iwamoto's risk-taking lifestyle that likely put him in harm's way.

As Naku begins to get to the bottom of Iwamoto's death, while juggling multiple cases and complicated romances, he finds his own life in peril.

Bonus material includes excerpts from the next book in the Eddie Naku Maui Mysteries, Dead in Wailuku; along with excerpts from the author's popular Leila Kahana series novel, Murder on Kaanapali Beach, and his upcoming new Hawaii FBI series, Murder on the Big Island. Also included is the short story suspense thriller, Target of a Killer.

Dead in Kihei is the perfect follow up to Dead in Pukalani and will surely captivate readers in the spirit of Aloha.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. Barri Flowers
• Release date: May 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311681034

R. Barri Flowers

R. Barri Flowers is the award winning author of romantic suspense, mystery, thriller and crime fiction with thirteen Harlequin titles published to date. Chemistry and conflict between the hero and heroine, attention to detail, and incorporating the very latest advances in criminal investigations, are the cornerstones of his crime and thriller fiction. He enjoys travelling around the country and abroad to scope out intriguing settings for future storylines, books, and miniseries.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Madison Crawford had gotten into a comfortable routine of jogging every afternoon during her vacation on Maui, Hawaii. In fact, aside from swimming in the ocean, which she did every morning, she couldn't think of a better way to stay fit and, at the same time, enjoy the beauty of her surroundings. She was staying in Kihei on the southwest shore of Maui. It was a nice oceanfront condo with an amazing view of the beach, swaying palm trees, Molokini islet, and the island of Kahoolawe. Having been there for almost a week, she hated the thought of having to go back to Phoenix in a few days and the stresses of life as an intensive care unit registered nurse. She loved her job, but living in the desert was not nearly as fun as being in Hawaii.

Especially coming off a breakup with the man she thought she was in love with. That was, until she found him in bed with another woman, destroying everything she thought they had. She couldn't get away from him—and her—soon enough. Maui was a perfect getaway, if not the permanent answer to her problems. She knew she had to go back to face them head on—and him—so she could move on and see what else was in store for her.

Madison dodged some other people as she ran down the sidewalk on Kaiolohia Street in a sports bra, shorts, and running shoes. She smiled at a cute man who was running in the opposite direction. He smiled back and said routinely, Aloha.

Aloha, she returned, and continued running. She didn't look back, but sensed he was checking her out from behind. She had no problem with that, knowing she was in great shape.

Maybe we'll run into each other at a club before I leave, she thought. If not, oh well...

Madison wiped perspiration from her brow with the back of her hand. She was looking forward to a nice cold drink and a soothing shower when she got back to her room.

After turning onto North Kihei Road, she started to plot her strategy for the remainder of the day. Suddenly Madison's heart skipped a beat as she watched in horror as a person jumped or was pushed off the lanai of an upper story condo and fell all the way down to the ground. She screamed and raced toward what looked to be an adult Asian or Hawaiian male in his late fifties or early sixties. His body lay there splayed awkwardly, blood spilling from his head and legs.

He was unconscious and showed no sign of life. She checked for a pulse anyway. Nothing. She could smell alcohol on him.

With all her skills as a nurse, Madison knew there was nothing she could do to help him. That made it all the more frustrating. It was a terrible way to die. She looked up at the lanai he fell from. There was no one looking down, as if to observe his or her handiwork.

She could only assume that he had taken his own life. But, then again, she had no idea what transpired up there causing him to end up down here.

She said a little prayer and then took out her cell phone to call 911.

CHAPTER ONE

Slapping a hand against his muscular arm, private investigator Eddie Naku pinned the pesky mosquito that he would swear had followed him from the Lahaina Harbor in West Maui to the Lahaina Gateway complex at the intersection of Honoapiilani Highway and Keawe Street. Lahaina itself was the onetime capital of the Kingdom of Hawaii and big in the international whaling industry. Now it was one of Maui County's main areas for business, residences, and tourism. Removing his hand, Naku eyed the flattened insect that had gone to town on him with at least two bites, before plucking it off satisfyingly. He had just wrapped up a case for a client that involved a jewel thief who had literally stolen a boatload of diamonds before his thieving days came to an end.

Naku walked past several stores in the complex. He was wearing a polo shirt, a pair of well-worn jeans, and black lace up boots. He was just three months shy of his thirty-seventh birthday and in the best shape of his life. He relied on regular workouts and riding horses to keep his sturdy six-foot-three frame fit. As a Native Hawaiian, third generation, Naku always strove to uphold the family tradition of being true to who he was and respecting the environment his forefathers had worked so hard to preserve. That meant not dishonoring them by his actions or disregarding those who wanted to destroy the land or otherwise result in his people turning back the hands of time and the progress they had made over the years.

He approached the office where he conducted business. He had left the Maui Police Department nearly three years ago where he worked as a homicide detective, deciding it was no longer right for him. At times, he second-guessed the decision to leave behind the steady pay and camaraderie with his fellow officers to become a private eye. But, for the most part, he was sure it was the right thing to do as an independent spirit. Now he called his own shots in going after the bad guys and sometimes even the good ones.

As Naku glanced at the words Eddie Naku Investigations on the window, his lips curved into a half smile. He was proud of who he was and what he had accomplished. He went inside the place that included a waiting area, his office, and that of his very capable secretary, Vanna Dandridge.

She greeted him while making a face. I wish I could just stroll in here whenever I please.

He chuckled, noting it was just past one o'clock and this was his first visit to the office today. Eyeing the forty-year-old, petite, and twice divorced redhead, he joked, You can. Problem is, if you did, I'd be totally lost without your steady hand.

She flashed her teeth. True enough.

Naku chuckled. I thought you'd agree. He updated her on the case of the jewel thief that was now closed and then stepped into his office. It was about as nondescript as it got with white walls and beige carpet. There was a wooden desk with his laptop, leather chair, and a couple of stacking chairs for visitors. He had considered remodeling, but figured the money could be better spent elsewhere.

Sitting at his desk, Naku glanced out the window at a couple of palm trees in the distance. His phone chimed, indicating a text message. It was from Kathryn Higuchi, a former wealthy client and his current lover. The text said she was visiting the Mainland with her teenage daughter and that when they got back to Maui, she was looking forward to some romantic time together. He texted her back, indicating he felt the same way. He really did enjoy her company and what she had to offer in and out of bed, even though he had no idea where their relationship was going. Maybe nowhere, or maybe everywhere. Time would tell.

Then his thoughts turned to his former love interest, Gayle Luciano, an international flight attendant. Though they had gone their separate ways, the truth was he had not gotten her entirely out of his system, and perhaps never would. But that was his problem, not hers.

Naku's cell phone rang. It was Jerry Quinabo, a Maui Emergency Medical Services worker. The two had been friends since Naku's days on the force when he'd seen one too many crime victims or offenders being carted off.

He answered the phone curiously. Hey, Quinabo. What's up?

Hope I didn't catch you at a bad time, Naku. Just thought you'd want to know that a friend of yours—at least I assume he's a friend, since you're on his cell phone contact list—Frank Iwamoto is dead—

Naku sat up, as if pushed, startled by the words. What—?

Yeah. Apparently he took an eight story dive from a condominium lanai, according to a woman who witnessed the whole thing. My partner and I are on the way to the hospital right now with Iwamoto's body, as identified by a neighbor, but a doctor doesn't need to confirm what's staring us in the face—he didn't make it...

Naku remained mute with disbelief.

So I take it you knew him? Quinabo asked.

Yes, I knew him, Naku said. "He was a friend.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it's my job.

Yeah, Naku said weakly. Mahalo for letting me know.

Anytime, Quinabo said awkwardly. Or hopefully not...

Naku hung up while trying to wrap his mind around the news that Frank Iwamoto was dead. He had just seen him last week. As a fellow Hawaiian private investigator, Iwamoto had shown him a few tricks of the trade. The two had even worked a complicated case together once involving a hitman and a missing bride where the hitman turned out to be in cahoots with her in a murder.

Iwamoto had fallen eight stories to his death. How did it happen? Why did it happen?

Naku wanted some answers before drawing any conclusions. But even that seemed hollow, as it would do nothing to bring his friend back to life.

* * *

Two days later, Naku strolled into the Maui Police Department located in Wailuku, the county seat of Maui County. He had gotten scant information on the death of Frank Iwamoto and decided it was time to go to the source of the investigation. So he returned to his old stomping grounds, which he was known to do more than once while investigating cases.

He ran into Detectives Leila Kahana and Jonny Chung, former colleagues of his. He had dated Leila briefly, before Naku started looking elsewhere, as did Leila.

Seems to me, Naku, you just can't stay away from us, she joked.

You got me, Kahana, he played along. With your gorgeous looks and quick wit, I can't resist coming back for a visit every now and then.

If I were in your shoes, I'd probably do the same thing, Chung said. Instead, I get to partner up with Kahana and get the fringe benefits every day.

That's enough you two, Leila said, coloring. Don't do me any favors, Naku.

He grinned thoughtfully. Hey, I wouldn't dream of it.

And, Chung, she said, the only fringe benefit you're ever going to get from me is a hard kick in the ass when you step out of line.

Ouch! Chung cringed and rubbed his ass.

Naku preferred to quit while he was ahead. Don't let me keep you guys. I'm looking for Detective Sanderson.

He should be in his office, Leila informed him. Are you looking into the death of Frank Iwamoto?

Unofficially, Naku told her. He was a friend.

I knew him too, she said. We crossed paths from time to time during investigations.

Yeah, he was around long enough for that to happen, Naku acknowledged of the fifty-something late private eye.

He probably should have been around a lot longer, Chung said, eyeing Naku. But it doesn't always work out that way.

Naku agreed. Tell me about it. He glanced at Leila. See you later.

You too, she told him and walked away with her partner.

Naku headed over to the office of Detective Tucker Sanderson, who was standing over his desk studying the contents of a folder.

Detective Sanderson? Naku said, getting the attention of the fortyish, chunky, balding man wearing a cheap navy suit.

Sanderson looked at him. Eddie Naku, I presume?

Yeah. He had phoned ahead of time, but preferred to talk in person. They shook hands.

Heard you used to be quite a character around here, Sanderson said.

Naku grinned. Don't believe everything you hear. I just did my job.

Fair enough. Have a seat and I'll tell you where we are on Frank Iwamoto—

Naku sat in a chair in front of the desk and watched as Sanderson opened up another folder and looked inside.

After a moment or two, Sanderson said levelly, We think Iwamoto either took his own life or fell to his death accidentally. Take your pick.

Neither seemed unfathomable to Naku. He knew, for one, that more people in law enforcement committed suicide than died in the line of duty. He supposed the same might be true for private detectives who faced many of the same day to day stresses, minus the pay and medical benefits.

At the same time, private investigation work could be a dangerous business, with most PIs placing themselves in danger at one time or another. Had this been one of those times?

No sign of forced entry? he asked.

None that we could find, Sanderson replied. And there was no indication that anyone was in the condo at the time, other than Iwamoto. The man had a blood alcohol level of nearly twice the legal limit. The toxicology report is still pending. Some people we spoke to suggested he was depressed over money; others said it was due to a relationship that ended badly. We haven't been able to verify either conclusively.

Was there a suicide note? Naku wondered.

We didn't find one, Sanderson said. Of course, that doesn't mean he didn't kill himself. The facts appear to speak for themselves. My guess is Iwamoto tried to drink his way out of his sorrows, made his way out to the lanai with the low railing, and either lost his balance and fell over or decided to check out then and there.

Naku took a breath thoughtfully. Maybe I didn't know him as well as I thought I did, he allowed, while knowing that in reality their friendship had not been very deep. Meaning, he was hardly in a position to know what may or may not have been going on in Iwamoto's head.

Do we ever really know anyone all that well? Sanderson asked skeptically. Hell, I thought I knew my ex-wife pretty well. Turned out I didn't really know her at all. She left me high and dry and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

Sorry to hear that, offered Naku.

Sanderson sighed. After five years, I'm over it now. I just wanted to make a point about how easy it is for people to go against the grain of how we may perceive them.

Point taken.

The next day, the coroner's physician, Doctor Patricia Lee, made it official by ruling the death of Frank Iwamoto a likely suicide.

* * *

I want to hire you, Ricky Iwamoto said, sitting across from Naku in his office.

Naku studied the son of Frank Iwamoto. He was in his thirties and slender with short black hair. Naku could see the resemblance to his father, which made it all the more painful for both of them.

That notwithstanding, he wasn't sure there was a case to be pursued. The police and the coroner seem to think that your father took his own life or, at the very least, accidentally fell after drinking himself into a stupor.

Maybe he did, Ricky conceded. Or maybe something else happened—

You think he might have been murdered?

Ricky shrugged. You tell me. My father was a private investigator, just like you, and he always seemed to find clients. He made his fair share of enemies over the years. Maybe someone decided to get some payback. Or maybe a current case got too hot to handle.

There was no evidence of foul play, Naku pointed out, peering across his desk.

That's why I want you to dig around and see if there was something the police missed. He took a flash drive from his pocket and placed it on the desk in front of Naku. Those are the cases my father worked on for the last couple of years that I downloaded from his computer. Apparently two or three were still active investigations.

Naku sat back thoughtfully, still not convinced there was anything to investigate. Then again, the Frank Iwamoto he knew did not seem like he was ready to end it all. But that still didn't mean he didn't. However, an accident was even more plausible when combined with him being intoxicated.

Naku leaned forward. The police described Frank as having money problems or relationship issues, suggesting one or the other may have pushed him over the edge.

Ricky sighed. My father and I weren't very close—not since he and my mother split up nearly a decade ago. So I can't say if he was having money problems. As far as relationships go, he was never involved with any woman for too long. It wasn't in his DNA. The notion that he killed himself because of a failed relationship or was so careless he did it accidentally is ridiculous.

How can you be so sure? Naku pressed him. You said you weren't that close to your father.

I wasn't, he maintained. But that didn't stop us from talking or hanging out together sometimes. I owe it to him and my mother to make sure the authorities get it right about what happened. We need to know the truth, whatever it is.

Naku took note of the we, meaning him and his mother, rather than simply him. This was not a surprise really. Hawaiians had the utmost respect for those who had passed on in wanting them to be buried without a dark cloud hanging over them—or at the very least some closure. Clearly this was what Ricky and his mother needed to put this chapter of their lives behind them.

Though Naku was open to looking into Iwamoto's death, maybe even for himself, it was still business and he needed to be up front about that. I charge five hundred an hour or twenty-five hundred a day, depending on which applies, he advised, plus any necessary expenses I may incur. I also usually ask for a five thousand dollar retainer for the cases I take on. If applicable, any excess will be returned to the client.

I can do that, Ricky said without flinching. I have my own business and I've done well for myself.

Naku nodded. Okay, I'll see what I can learn about your father and how he ended up falling eight stories to his death. But I must warn you, there may be nothing nefarious about the way he died.

I understand. Will you take a check?

Sure. Naku watched him pull out his checkbook and start filling in the blanks. What type of business do you have? he asked.

A clothing store.

Naku couldn't help but think that it was a far cry from Frank Iwamoto's line of work. He was sure that was a good thing, as private eye stuff was anything but a piece of cake. And it could be lethal. Did that apply to Frank Iwamoto? Or was his death pure coincidence as it related to his profession?

Naku took a look at the check and then at his new client. "I'll need access to