"And may not be the last," feared Seymour. "Since this very likely wasn't a random act, the killer might just be getting started."

  "What would the motive be?"

  "Maybe he just hates doctors the way I do dentists."

  "But you're not murdering them."

  "That's because I know where to draw the line. The killer obviously already stepped over it and there's no going back. But there's plenty of potential to move forward for further bloodshed."

  Leila made a face. "A scary thought."

  "Tell me about it."

  "You like art?"

  Seymour fixed her. "As in Rembrandt or Picasso?"

  "Contemporary art."

  "Yeah, sure. Can't afford to buy any, but it's nice to look at." He wondered where this was going.

  Leila met his eyes. "My artist friend's having a showing Saturday night. I thought if you weren't busy..."

  "I'd love to go." He smiled.

  "Cool."

  "My social schedule's not exactly overflowing these days."

  "Neither is mine."

  "Then it's a date." Seymour regretted saying that, hoping it didn't make her uncomfortable. Or should he make that assumption?

  She batted her lashes. "I suppose it is."

  * * *

  Leila had done it. She'd invited Seymour to accompany her to the showing. She didn't know if that would lead to anything, but at least it would give them a chance to step outside the official box that had defined their relationship for so long.

  She wouldn't dare look beyond that.

  "Hey, Kahana." Detective Fujimoto caught up to her.

  Leila saw a half grin on his face. "Hey back."

  "Just wanted you to know your composite sketch worked. We arrested the mugger. Turns out he's a meth addict named Jeremy Irwin. Been in and out of jail half his life. Time to go back in again, hopefully for a long stretch this time."

  She smiled. "Glad you got him."

  "Couldn't have done it without you."

  "I just got lucky this time. Maybe the next composite will end up leading the search in the wrong direction."

  "I doubt that. Personally, I'd trust your skills far more than some computer generated sketches."

  Was he actually coming onto her? Leila had known Fujimoto since joining the force. She saw them as nothing more than acquaintances.

  "Try telling that to the top brass," she said, downplaying it even if she agreed. "It's only a matter of time before sketch artists like me become a thing of the past. Good thing I have my day job to fall back on."

  His cell phone rang and he looked disappointed. "I've gotta get that."

  Leila was happy for the intrusion. "No problem. See you later."

  She was still thinking about her art show date with Seymour when Leila noticed a thirty-something, dark haired Asian woman standing at her desk.

  "May I help you?"

  "I'd like to know when you plan to arrest the person who murdered my brother."

  Leila assessed her. "You're Larry Nagasaka's sister?"

  "My name is Rita Nagasaka."

  Leila could see the resemblance, though the image that stuck most in her mind was of Nagasaka with much of his face missing.

  "Ms. Nagasaka, the investigation is still ongoing..."

  "She killed him!"

  Leila lifted a brow. "Who?"

  "That bitch my brother married. Connie..."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Seymour joined Leila in listening to the accusation Rita Nagasaka was making against her sister-in-law Connie. It was normal for relatives of murder victims to blame a spouse when no other suspects were named. But each such instance had to be taken seriously until proven otherwise.

  "Why do you believe she murdered your brother?" he asked curiously.

  "For one thing, Connie only married Larry for his money. She couldn't get enough of it and spent every penny she could."

  Leila glanced at Seymour. "I'm sure you may resent that, but I'm afraid it isn't a motive for murder."

  "How about life insurance?"

  "We know Nagasaka was insured for half a million," Seymour said. "Not unusual for a man in his position."

  "Connie insisted that he get a second policy for one million dollars about a month ago." Rita's lips pursed. "Larry wasn't happy about it, but he agreed. He often bent over backwards to appease her for some reason."

  They had missed this other insurance policy. Both policies created a million and a half reasons why Connie might want to see her husband dead.

  Seymour gazed at Rita. "We'll look into it."

  She sneered. "So what, in the meantime, Connie just gets to live in that house doing whatever she wants?"

  Leila leaned forward. "Ms. Nagasaka, whatever you may think of your sister-in-law, she was married to your brother and is innocent till proven guilty. That means we can't just kick her out on the street or make an arrest without probable cause."

  "Well I hope you get it soon. She doesn't deserve to profit from Larry's death."

  "She won't if it turns out she's responsible for his death," Seymour assured her. "Did your brother ever express any concern that Connie might try to hurt him due to his affair with Elizabeth Racine?"

  Rita rolled her eyes. "He knew it pissed her off. If he'd realized just how dangerous she could be, I think he would have left her a long time ago."

  Seymour doubted that. When it came to domestic homicides, the victim often chose to stay for one reason or another. Till it was too late. It remained to be seen if that was the case here.

  "We'll be in touch with you," he told Rita.

  * * *

  "You think the wife followed her cheating husband and shot him to death with his lover?" Leila was thinking out loud as she sat on a corner of Seymour's desk, looking down at him.

  "Can't rule it out, especially now that we know she stands to get a windfall from his death."

  "People get life insurance policies all the time for different reasons, even when they can't stand each other. If she did kill them, I think it was more about the infidelity than the money she stood to gain."

  "You really think so?" Seymour asked.

  Leila had second thoughts about opening up this can of worms. Since Seymour had cheated on his own wife and could be headed that way with her, it was unfair to put him on the spot.

  "I'm only saying that she struck me as a woman who was more interested in seeing her husband's lover dead than him."

  Seymour scratched his pate. "You might be right about that. I think we need to get Connie Nagasaka in here and see what she has to say outside her comfort zone."

  Leila was not about to disagree. She wanted to solve this case before the killer decided it was so easy, why not find some other targets.

  Maybe Connie could shed some light on this notion.

  * * *

  Ferguson walked into the day spa in Ma'alaea. He ignored the hot bodies that came into view, remembering he was on the job.

  "Can I help you?" asked a shapely strawberry blonde in her thirties.

  "I'm looking for Suzanne Darby."

  "Look no further. I'm Suzanne."

  He showed his identification. "I'm investigating the murder of Elizabeth Racine. I understand you were her best friend."

  "Yes, that's right. I still can't believe Liz is gone."

  "I'd like to ask you a few questions about her."

  Suzanne blinked. "Sure. Why don't we go to my office?"

  Ferguson followed, wishing he could have a piece of her. "Nice place you've got here."

  "That's what I'm told." She offered him a seat and took one herself. "What would you like to know?"

  "Why don't you start by telling me what type of person Elizabeth was?"

  "That's easy. She was smart, funny, gifted, and always there for the people she cared about."

  "Did that include her husband?"

  Suzanne's brow furrowed. "It wasn't easy being married to Kenneth. He could be a real bastard sometimes."

  "Can you be more specific?"

  "He was possessive and treated her like a trophy wife rather than an equal as a physician and wife."

  "Do you think that's why she had an affair with Larry Nagasaka?"

  "Liz liked the way Larry made her feel. And not just in bed. He treated her with respect. She never felt anything long term would come out of the relationship, but was just willing to go with the flow."

  "Did Racine know about his wife's affair?"

  Suzanne rolled fingers through her hair. "She tried hard to keep it from him. Don't know if she succeeded. But I do know Liz had planned to ask Kenneth for a divorce and was afraid of how he might react."

  Ferguson's brows knitted. "Like he might try to hurt her?"

  "I wouldn't put it past him. Once Kenneth had his hooks in you, he didn't want to give up easily."

  * * *

  Seymour stepped inside the Wailuku tavern on 31st Street. He found just the person he was looking for sitting at a table all by his lonesome, nursing a scotch on the rocks.

  Marty Mendoza had grown up on the island and gotten involved with the wrong elements. It led to a confrontation that cost him his eyesight ten years ago. For half that time he had supplemented an insurance settlement by being a listening ear on the streets of Maui for information that might prove useful to Seymour that was normally out of his reach.

  Once again he was counting on Marty earning a few bucks.

  "Can smell you a mile away, Seymour," Marty claimed and showed his teeth.

  "Didn't know my cologne was that strong."

  "It isn't." Marty laughed. He wore dark shades.

  Seymour sat across from him. "Can I buy you another drink?"

  "Only if you join me."

  Seymour tossed aside the no drinking on duty policy. "Sure." He ordered two scotches.

  "So to what do I owe the pleasure?" Marty asked. "Or do you want me to guess?"

  "Two people were shot execution-style at a condo last week."

  "Yeah, I heard. Hope they got their groove on in time."

  "Wouldn't know." Seymour left that one alone. "The murder weapon was a .25 caliber gun. I'd like to find out if the perp bought it off the street. And, if so, from who?"

  "What's in it for me, aside from a cheap drink?"

  Seymour slid three bills across the table so they touched Marty's hands. "That's fifty dollars. I'll double it if you give me anything useful."

  "You've got yourself a deal." Marty squeezed the money between thick fingers. "I'll see if there's anything on the grapevine."

  "I was hoping you'd say that."

  "You make it easy to do my civic duty."

  The drinks came and Seymour held up his end of the bargain and looked for a greater return down the line.

  * * *

  That night Leila's mother, Rena, phoned. As always, Leila tried to remain respectful, even when it could be trying at times dealing with a mother large on tradition and being a good Hawaiian girl. This meant not working outside the house unless in an approved field such as teaching and nursing. A career in law enforcement was frowned upon. Even if Leila was following the footsteps of her father and grandfather.

  "It's not the life I envisioned for my only daughter," Rena complained.

  "I didn't envision it for myself either." Leila bit her lip. "But it's my job and I'm trying to make the best of it."

  "No reason to settle for something that isn't right for you and could get you killed."

  "This is the right thing for me at this time in my life, Mom. And I could die anywhere, no matter my profession."

  "You could move back home."

  "This is my home now. It has been for a few years."

  Rena made a snorting noise. "Must you always be so stubborn like your Makuakane?"

  "I'm proud to be like dad and Kapuna," Leila point out, adding her grandfather as though it would make difference in trying to appeal to his daughter. "Why can't you just be happy for me?"

  "Are you eating right? You're way too thin these days. It's not good for you."

  As always Rena changed the subject when things got heated. Leila considered this to be safer ground for debate.

  "My eating is just fine. You taught me how to cook and I haven't forgotten. Being fit is necessary for my work, so I have to show restraint in what I eat."

  "I just hope that job doesn't make you anorexic. Heaven knows how awful that would be."

  Leila's nostrils flared. Would this ever end? Of course not, so long as she continued to dance to a different drummer.

  "I've been at this for a while, Mom, and I haven't turned into a stick yet. Don't worry so much about me."

  "I'm your mother," Rena said unapologetically. "Worrying comes with the territory."

  Leila got that and had no basis for argument. "I have to go now."

  "Are you going out?"

  Leila wished that were the case. Instead, she was once again spending the night with her own company.

  Maybe that would soon change if things between her and Seymour panned out.

  Or maybe it was just her destiny to be a failure in all meaningful relationships.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  On Tuesday morning, Gabe Devane walked into Maui General Hospital. He had been told the elderly mugging victim, Roslyn O'Shea, was being kept under observation for a couple of days. Gabe decided to pay her a visit since she reminded him of his own grandmother who passed away at ninety-two. He hoped longevity was in his genes, as there was still a lot he wanted to do in life.

  For the moment, he would settle for checking up on the woman he'd rescued from an attacker. Now that the asshole was in police custody, it made things easier all the way around. Gabe still wasn't sure how the man had managed to evade Sal, unless his dog was losing his touch.

  Roslyn O'Shea was in room 461 and, according to a nurse, had good vital signs, along with a couple of cracked ribs and some minor bruising. Apparently she was still a bit disoriented from the mugging.

  Gabe stepped into the room, observing a woman in her fifties who bore some resemblance to Roslyn. He assumed she was her daughter.

  She shot him a cold look. "Who are you?"

  "Gabe Devane. I was there when your—"

  "You—" Roslyn spoke in a hoarse voice.

  Gabe faced her. She looked every bit her age, but tried to smile.

  The other woman didn't see it that way. "Look, Mr. Devane, you're upsetting my mother, so if you could just—"

  "Thank you for coming to my rescue, young man," Roslyn said forcefully.

  "I wasn't sure if you would remember." Gabe recalled the police saying that she had been unable to identify her attacker to support his eyewitness account.

  "Of course I remember," she snapped. "I don't have Alzheimer's disease. Not yet anyway."

  He cracked an amused smile. "Sorry about what happened. I wanted to make sure you were all right."

  "I'll be fine. Just a little winded, that's all."

  "Well, I'm sure you were told they caught the man, so you won't have to worry about him attacking you again."

  She sighed. "I'm happy he's behind bars. Maybe that will do him some good."

  Gabe doubted that. He was of the opinion most criminals left incarceration worse than when they went in.

  He didn't want to upset the woman. "One can only hope."

  "It's nice to know there are still people in the world willing to get involved by helping others in need."

  Gabe grinned. He wanted no part of being a hero. He was anything but that. As long as it made Roslyn feel better, he could deal with it.

  Now if only this good feeling could cross over into the rest of his life.

  * * *

  Leila stood outside the interview room next to Rachel, Seymour, Ferguson, and Lt. Ortega. They watched through the one-way window as the suspect, Connie Nagasaka, sat quietly. It was decided that Leila and Rachel would question her, believing Connie would be more likely to open up to them.

  "I'd say we've let her sweat it out long enough," Leila said.

  "Agreed. Go talk to her."

  "It will be interesting to see how the widow responds," Ferguson said. "There's no doubt there was some bad blood between her and the husband's mistress. Could've spilled over into murder."

  Rachel curled her lip. "Money's always a strong motivator for getting rid of your husband. But it's also a reason to keep him around, even if he is unfaithful."

  "Just remember she's here as the widow of a victim and not a suspect, per se," Ortega made clear. "The moment she asks for a lawyer, the questioning stops."

  Leila nodded. "Got it."

  The two detectives went in the room. It was Leila's job to be the soft-spoken one, while Rachel played the tough cop. Sometimes it was the other way around, depending on the case.

  Leila had no problem either way, so long as there were results.

  "Sorry to keep you waiting," she told Connie Nagasaka.

  "No problem. Did you speak to Kenneth Racine?"

  "We did, and he has an alibi for the time of his wife's murder."

  Connie looked disappointed. "Maybe you should double check that."

  "Actually, we'd like to know more about what you were doing at the time your husband was killed," Rachel said bluntly.

  Connie's lashes fluttered. "I already made clear I was at home."

  "But, you see, the problem is no one can verify that."

  "Am I a suspect in Larry's death?"

  The detectives exchanged glances before Leila answered. "This is just a routine part of the investigation. We need to eliminate everyone close to the victims so we can focus on the perpetrator."

  Connie sighed. "I understand."

  Leila took a moment, eyeing her. "Why don't you tell us about the million dollar insurance policy you insisted Larry get a month before he died?"

  Connie looked caught off guard. "It was Larry's idea, not mine."

  "You're sure about that?" Rachel regarded her with skepticism. "Seems to me it was more money than necessary on top of the other policy. Especially for a man who had his eye on another woman."

  "Most men think from below the waist." Connie maintained her composure. "Larry still loved me and would never have left me for her. He wanted me to be taken care of in case something happened to him."