Killer Connection (A Hawaii Mystery Novelette), Page 3

  Could Craig have possibly known who she was and only asked her out to dig up old news?

  Kiyoshi rejected this unlikely possibility, suspecting that he was merely trying to become better acquainted as someone who had taken a liking to her. She had all but forgotten what it was like to go out and do the flirting and inquisitive thing.

  She took a bite of macadamia nut crusted mahi-mahi. "I don't have any family here," she said. "I came to Maui for a fresh start." The admission surprised her, given that he was a stranger.

  "Oh?" He looked genuinely surprised. "So you left Honolulu to get away? I'm sure you had your reasons."

  "It's a long story," she said evasively. "I'd rather not talk about it now. Maybe someday—"

  Her words told Connor that this was not necessarily the last time she planned to see him. Meaning there was no hurry to force anything out the lady, which was fine by him, as he enjoyed her company more than he'd planned to.

  "That's cool," he said agreeably.

  "And what about you?" Kiyoshi asked. She studied him the way one might a specimen in a dish, noting that he wasn't wearing a wedding band. "Are you here by yourself?" Though he was clearly coming onto her, she didn't dare presume he was single.

  "Yes, I'm here all by myself," Connor responded, sensing this was what she wanted to hear. There had been women in his life, including a special one who turned out to be not so special. But he'd never gone down the aisle for one reason or another. He was not opposed to marriage, if the right woman came along. Perhaps someone like Kiyoshi Yoshida, were his interest in her not for getting the scoop on her brother.

  "Is there anyone in your life?" Connor thought to ask, though he suspected he already knew the answer, given that she was having lunch with him and no longer had a husband in the picture.

  I wish, Kiyoshi mused. Or did she? Hadn't she had enough of disappointing men to last a lifetime? But maybe there was still hope.

  She used a napkin to wipe her mouth. "Not right now," she told him.

  Kiyoshi could tell that he seemed pleased by this and she couldn't help but wonder if he intended to be her knight in shining armor ready to sweep her away.

  Connor sipped iced tea. "That's good to hear."

  She blushed, but refused to make something more out of this than it was. "How do you like the food?" she asked, abruptly changing the subject to a safer topic. It was obvious by looking at his nearly empty plate that the food agreed with him.

  "The scallops were excellent," he told her, licking his lips. "Thanks for telling me about this place."

  Kiyoshi smiled. "Thanks for inviting me."

  "It was the least I could do after you helped me with my new wardrobe." He flashed his trademark grin. "Besides, I admit I had ulterior motives..."

  Her brow lifted slightly. "And what might those be?" She held her breath, hoping the question wasn't too leading or the answer too disagreeable.

  Connor regarded her thoughtfully. "I wanted a chance to get to know you better other than as a saleswoman. I hope that's okay with you."

  Kiyoshi contemplated this. She certainly had not moved to Maui with romance in mind. But maybe since they were both new there, it could be a new beginning to explore the possibilities, whatever they might be.

  She met his steady gaze and responded perhaps a little too enthusiastically: "That's fine, Craig."

  * * *

  Across the crowded restaurant he watched as Kiyoshi and Connor chatted like old lovers. He wondered what the hell they were talking about, as he sipped wine and tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. When some skinny broad in skimpy clothing tried to beat his time in the process of taking his order, he dismissed her with the charm he had perfected when he wanted to. There was no time to flirt or be flirted with. Right now, he just wanted to keep an eye on Kiyoshi Yoshida and the true crime writer who had ingratiated himself into her life.

  He wouldn't tolerate Connor Jansen getting in the way of his plans for Kiyoshi. She was a bad girl and had to be punished for it—in due time. And Jansen would get his too if it came down to that.

  Now he watched as the two got up and headed his way. He lifted his menu at just the right angle to block his face as they passed by, unaware of and oblivious to his presence. Which was exactly what he had in mind. Anything else would ruin his plans.

  And he couldn't allow that.

  He was in the driver's seat here and would dictate the way things went.

  And when.

  * * *

  The walk back to the store was pleasant enough for Kiyoshi. They didn't say too much, as though fearful of spoiling the impromptu lunch date, each picking and choosing their words carefully. Craig Garrett struck Kiyoshi as a man who rarely wasted words, saying only what he thought was relevant or necessary to get his point across. She wondered about him though. She suspected there was much more to the man than he had let on. The question was would he ever allow her to know that part of him? Or was she expecting too much, considering she had also held back details about some major aspects of her life.

  And with good reason.

  Just go with the flow, she told herself. Enjoy his company and don't probe too deeply, any more than you'd want him to.

  Connor enjoyed a good run every now and then, but had never appreciated a good walk just for the sake of it, especially with such a beautiful lady. He hoped they got to do this more often. Maybe even after he got what he needed from her, assuming she didn't hate him afterwards.

  When Kiyoshi brushed against his side, Connor felt it to his very being, instilling desires in him he preferred not to have for her. Business and pleasure never mixed very well, he'd learned that all too well.

  In this case, though, he just might have to make an exception to the rule. Connor glanced at Kiyoshi as they neared Taguchi and Fleming.

  "Well, here we are," he said disappointedly as they stood in front of the store's double doors.

  Kiyoshi smiled at him, feeling almost as if her prom date had taken her home and they had entered the awkward zone on the front porch. "Guess I'd better clock in for the afternoon shift."

  "Yeah." He paused and then asked what he had planned to all along. "Look, I know we don't really know each other, but could I call you?"

  Kiyoshi hesitated, largely for effect, knowing she wanted to see him again. For whatever reason, maybe a crazy one, she felt a connection with him. She looked up at his waiting eyes and said sincerely. "I'd like that."

  He beamed and quickly removed a cell phone from his pocket. She gave him her number and he keyed it in.

  "I will call you," he declared, putting the phone away.

  "I hope so," she said.

  Before she could turn away, Connor surprised her with a quick kiss on the cheek. She took it as a gentlemanly, friendly gesture, but enjoyed the touch of his lips on her skin as a woman who had been without even that much affection in so long that it had a rippling effect throughout her body.

  Kiyoshi suspended these thoughts, as her gaze happened to drift over the shoulder of Connor to a man who stood at the end of the block. It couldn't be, she told herself, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

  Connor noted her change in demeanor, as if she had seen a ghost. "What is it?" he asked.

  She blinked, steadying herself, and looked again. He was gone, replaced by others moving about. Had she seen something that wasn't there? What other explanation could there be?

  "I thought I saw someone I knew," Kiyoshi stammered, forcing herself to look at Connor. "But it's not possible. I guess sometimes the mind...eyes...can play tricks on you."

  "I guess so." Connor looked in the direction that had unnerved Kiyoshi moments earlier. He made a mental note of this for the record, and then waited until she was inside before heading to his car.

  Kiyoshi's knees were shaking as she entered the store. She could have sworn that she had just seen her brother Sergio standing on the corner looking at her, as if to haunt her. But he was dead, and the dead did not come back to life no mat
ter how much she wished for another chance to talk to him so she could understand why. Apparently, moving to Maui had not been enough for her to totally exorcise the demons she carried in having had a twin brother who was a serial killer.

  Get yourself together, girl, Kiyoshi admonished herself. Ghosts and visions of dead people don't exist. Not in the real world.

  She chose to turn her attention to the living and specifically Craig Garrett. He was definitely flesh and blood and someone she hoped to see again.

  * * *

  Damn it! He cursed, blending in with others on the sidewalk. She had seen him. He was sure of it.

  Or maybe he had disappeared quickly enough so that she questioned what she saw.

  Yes, he was convinced that what she saw was just an illusion that she dismissed like one would the notion of seeing an extraterrestrial being. His secret was safe for now, but he would have to be far more careful in the future.

  It was important for him to keep a low profile from this point on. Otherwise his plans would be ruined, forcing him to act prematurely.

  He didn't want Kiyoshi to suffer any more than she already had.

  When the time was right, everything would come out in the open. Only then could he hope to make things right. Or was that asking too much after everything that had happened?

  * * *

  After his successful lunch date with Kiyoshi, Connor got into his rental car. When he was on the road, he grabbed his cell phone, scrolled down the list to the number he was looking for, hit dial, and put it on speaker.

  The phone rang twice before a gruff voice answered: "Hello."

  "It's me," Connor said, though it was obvious.

  The man on the other end was Tony Nakamura, a Honolulu private investigator Connor used from time to time to supplement his research and investigative skills.

  Nakamura's voice rose with recognition. "Hey, what's up?"

  "I need you to do something for me..." Connor said, pausing to collect his thoughts.

  "I'm listening..."

  "I need you to find out everything you can about Kiyoshi Yoshida, right down to the last detail," Connor instructed. "I want to know everything about her relationship with Sergio Matsuko and her ex-husband Andrew Yoshida. Find out who her friends are or were and, most importantly, if she has any enemies."

  "Is that all?" There was cynicism in Nakamura's tone.

  "For now," Connor said. "Will that be a problem?"

  "Not at all. Whatever you need."

  "Let me know when you have something. The sooner the better."

  "I'll be in touch," Nakamura said.

  Connor disconnected. In spite of his determination to get the dirty details on Sergio Matsuko, he didn't want Kiyoshi caught in the crossfire. Or at least he wanted them to somehow be able to get past this once she learned that he had not been honest with her. Or was he deluding himself to believe that they could actually have a relationship when he was writing a book about her brother—the Aloha Black Scarf Killer.

  At the moment, something else was bothering Connor. Kiyoshi had been spooked by someone outside the store. But who? Did it have anything to do with her running away from home?

  Was she in danger? If so, Connor wanted to find out and protect her, if he could. Assuming he was able to get closer to her without blowing his cover.

  * * *

  Connor drove the short distance to his condo in Wailea. It was an oceanfront suite and had a nice sized lanai to relax on with a drink. He took a moment to do just that, but knew he didn't have the luxury of enjoying too much fun and frolic. After all, he did have a deadline for completing his book. Whether he got what he needed from Kiyoshi in that regard remained to be seen. He was already starting to have second thoughts about deceiving her. A good part of him would just as soon leave her out of it, especially now that some romantic vibes had passed between them. But he really did need to see this thing through and could only hope that the end truly did justify the means.

  His cell phone rang, giving Connor a start. He took another sip of beer and grabbed the phone off the glass table.

  It was his editor, Garth Sutherland. "So how is everything in Maui?"

  "Pretty much what you would expect—laidback, gorgeous scenery, and perfect weather," Connor said.

  "Have you had a chance to talk to Kiyoshi Yoshida yet?"

  "I had lunch with her a couple of hours ago."

  "And...?"

  "And I have yet to get anything meaningful out of her," Connor muttered apologetically. "I'll need a little time to see what she knows, if anything."

  Garth groaned. "As you know, Connor, time is money in this business. This project has been delayed long enough as it is. The new Vice President of Sales at Stellman & Richwine is on my ass to do it or lose it. Do you follow me?"

  Connor's jaw tightened. He was being told in no uncertain terms that they were not willing to wait much longer to receive his manuscript, even if there had been extenuating circumstances for the delay.

  "Yeah, I think I do." He switched the phone to his other ear, as if that would somehow lessen the blow.

  "I know you like to go the extra mile to make sure you have all the bases covered in your true crime books," Garth said, his voice softening. "That's one of the things I admire about you. But, in this case, we may just have to go with what you've got, if Ms. Yoshida can't or won't give us the inside scoop about her psycho killer twin brother—and quickly."

  "I understand," Connor told him.

  He did want to get together soon with Kiyoshi Yoshida, but not entirely for the sake of his true crime book. The beautiful lady was capable of pushing his buttons all by herself.

  * * *

  Later that evening, Connor turned on his laptop computer. He was soon looking at the manuscript he'd appropriately retitled: The Aloha Black Scarf Killer: A Cop Turned Serial Madman.

  Connor scrolled through it until he came to the section about the victims. He noted that each victim apparently knew the perpetrator. Each one was attacked in her own residence with no sign of forced entry. The killer had chosen his victims carefully: young, single, professional, trusting beautiful women who had everything to live for.

  And, to one son of a bitch, something to die for.

  The first victim's name was Alicia Townsend. The twenty-eight-year-old reporter had recently divorced and, according to friends, just began dating again. Her badly beaten, violated body was found in her apartment three days after she had been reported missing by worried colleagues.

  At the time, little significance was given to the black scarf draped around her neck, aside from being the likely murder weapon of death by strangulation. Only when victim number two was discovered two weeks later had it become apparent that a serial killer was on the loose on the streets of Honolulu.

  And the clock was ticking for five other women who would meet the same fate.

  Connor bristled at the thought of it. Though writing about the horrors of true crime had made him a good living, he'd be less than human if he didn't feel for the victims. They didn't deserve to come face to face with the likes of the Sergio Matsukos of the world.

  And Kiyoshi didn't deserve to be left with the legacy of a twin who threw away a good career as a police officer to become a rapist and killing machine.

  But this was the hand she had been dealt. Now she had to bear the burden of what her brother did. Or at least help fill in the blanks, so the world could see the full picture of his pure evil.

  Suddenly Connor felt an overpowering need to talk to Kiyoshi—not sure if it was to dig for more dirt on her brother or if it was just to hear the sweet sound of her voice.

  He grabbed his cell phone from the desk, pulled up Kiyoshi's number and tapped it, wondering what the hell he would say to her that wouldn't make him seem like an ass. Or worse, a man who was dying to see her again for all the wrong reasons.

  * * *

  She could sense him coming after her. It was in the dark of night and she was in the middle of
a forest filled with towering eucalyptus and palm trees. She had no idea how she got there, only that, unless she escaped, he would find her and kill her.

  She began to run barefoot, not sure which direction she was headed. As though possessing built-in radar, he seemed to be able to follow her every move, getting closer and closer.

  She stumbled, but managed to recover quickly, using fear as her motivator. She ran and ran, taking short breaths to try to maintain her energy. He was behind her, though she could not see him, seemingly determined to get to her.

  Without rhyme or reason, she was back in her condo now. Wearing only a sheer nightgown, she ran down the hall, not daring to look back only to find him there.

  She went into her bedroom, locking the door behind her. But instead of locking him out, she had locked herself in—with him.

  He stood there gloating. She could not see his face, only a dark hooded figure. He raised large hands and went for her throat. She stumbled backwards, tripping and falling onto the bed.

  He now loomed large over her and she began to hear eerie laughter that seemed to echo throughout the room.

  As he swooped down on her, she let out a piercing scream, certain it would be the last sound she ever made...

  Kiyoshi woke up in a cold sweat. She was shaking and her heart was pounding a mile a minute. She'd had the nightmare again. This time it seemed more terrifying than ever. She was sure that if the faceless monster had succeeded in his quest, she would not have snapped out of the disturbing sequence of events, for he would have taken her life, even while asleep.

  Kiyoshi suddenly realized that her cell phone was ringing. She took another moment or two to regain her bearings in the darkened surroundings. She could make out the bed, the armoire, and even the black and white framed picture of a landscape on the Big Island of Hawaii. With her eyes half shut, Kiyoshi focused on the nightstand where her phone was. Beside it was a lamp. A glance at the digital clock on the other nightstand told her it was ten-fifteen p.m.

  She was perturbed that someone was calling her this late. But another side of her was eternally grateful that the person had called, forcing her to wake up and escape her hellish dream.

  She fumbled with the lamp, turned it on, and then lifted the cell phone. The caller ID did not reveal who the caller was.