Page 12 of Deadly Sacrifice

“Not in so many words.” Katie sounded a little chastened at that.

“Glad to hear it. We will be able to get into Goodwin’s private information when we have proper authorization, which we’re on track for once Dr. G issues the death certificate,” Lei said. “But that was a good start, Katie. Keep going. Find out more about the artifacts and props found at the crime scene. Thanks.”

Lei ended the call and strode back to her truck. She got in beside Pono. “Let’s go over to the law office. We can do the death notification with Goodwin’s partners and see if they have an extra key to the house—or a will, or any instructions should Goodwin meet an untimely end. Then, we’ll swing by the station and pick up that warrant and return to the house to search it.”

Pono grimaced. “You know how I love a good death notification.”

“You big baby.” Lei elbowed Pono. “Grab that box of tissues in the back seat. I’m counting on you to prop up the lady lawyers that we have to inform of their partner’s death.”

“Any chance we could grab something to eat on the way?” Pono rubbed his loudly rumbling belly as they left Goodwin’s house. “This machine needs fuel.”

Lei rolled her eyes. “I guess we can do the drive-through at Wendy’s on the way to the law offices. Wouldn’t want my big bad partner to waste away. But no fried food or red meat for you—Tiare told me you’re watching your cholesterol.”

“Son of a . . .” Pono spluttered. His wife Tiare was a nurse as well as a wedding planner, and not a woman to be trifled with.

“You don’t want to finish that sentence,” Lei said serenely, pulling out of the driveway. “A nice salad with grilled chicken will be fine for both of us.”

Pono rubbed his mustache with a finger, pouting. “Let’s at least sit down inside.”

Once they were seated in the fast-food joint, plates of limp iceberg lettuce decorated with a little shredded carrot and grilled chicken strips in front of them, Lei pointed her plastic fork at Pono. “Tiare told me you had a heart thing over the weekend.”

“Ho, she wasn’t supposed to tell anybody.” Pono squeezed a packet of lite Italian dressing onto his salad. “Was minor, just a twinge. Got a little blockage, they say. Meds should help. No can get away with nothing with an RN for a wife.”

“I’m your partner.” Lei stabbed her salad, then leaned forward to point a forkful of lettuce at him. “You mybraddah, Pono. You don’t get to die before I do.” Unexpectedly, tears stung her eyes and Lei cast her gaze down at her plate. “You about gavemea heart attack that time you were shot. Not about to go through that again.”

“Just a flesh wound—and you know I always wanted to be able to say I took a bullet in the line of duty.” Pono extended a thick arm. He flexed his bicep, making the scar that had torn through the triangles of his traditional tattoo ripple. “Anyway.” He thumped his chest. “I’m fine. Too much spam and macaroni salad is all. Need to clean out my pipes. They got me on meds until I do.”

“Any activity restrictions?”

“Nah.” But Pono’s dark brown eyes wouldn’t meet hers.

He was probably supposed to stay away from too much exertion. Lei resolved to check in with Tiare about specifics. She’d make sure her partner didn’t overdo in the meantime, something easier said than done.

9

LEI

Cheryl Goodwin’slaw office was a tidy red cottage with white trim tucked under a plumeria tree. Once they’d shown IDs to the receptionist, Lei introduced herself and Pono to the remaining partners. She requested a private area to speak in, and soon they were seated in a quiet conference room with a palm frond fan whirling overhead.

“What’s this about, Detectives?” Maryanne Wilbur spoke. She and June Keith appeared to be similar in age and socioeconomic status to the victim. Both had tasteful hair and makeup and were dressed in stylish business casual clothing.

“I’m very sorry to tell you bad news.” Lei observed the two women closely as she spoke. “There’s been a homicide. Your partner, Cheryl Goodwin, has been killed.”

Both women gasped in shock, their eyes widening and skin going pale in surprise and horror with no pretense in their reactions. Ms. Keith became incoherent for a bit. Neither cried though, as Pono fetched cold beverages from a nearby mini fridge and turned on a desk fan to cool them. He placed the box of tissues he’d brought in nearby, then walked Ms. Keith to the washroom to splash water on her face.

Lei let him do all that; he was better at it.

Eventually the women were able to answer some questions: they didn’t know of any threats against Goodwin, nor did they have any disgruntled employees or vengeful clients they were aware of.

“Cheryl specialized in real estate law,” Ms. Wilbur said. “Subdivisions, land transfers, renovations, new developments, things like that. Nothing dangerous like you might be thinking. No criminals on the caseload. She’s been working on a large hotel project with a mainland company for a year or two now. She’s also—I mean, was—in the middle of the permitting process on a six-hundred unit housing development.”

Ms. Keith added, “We can tell you what she was working on in general but can’t show you the files. They’re privileged.”

“What about her calendar?” Lei asked. “Can one of you go over that with me and pick out anything that might be relevant, like the name of someone she was meeting? We need to know what she was doing and who she was seeing for the past week. It’s important to put together a timeline of her activities over the last twenty-four hours.”

“Of course we want to help, but we have to maintain the confidentiality of our clients. We’ll look it over and let you know,” Ms. Wilbur said.

“Please let me knowtoday.Timing is critical in murder investigations,” Lei pressed.

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