Page 31 of Deadly Sacrifice

“Sorry, I didn’t realize.” Lei sat up. Her brief rest, and possibly the combo of food and caffeine, had restored her somewhat. “We must be almost there.”

And they were—the entrance to the Kleftes address appeared abruptly on the left, a pair of beautifully sculpted copper gates featuring a moon and stars welded into a constellation, the details picked out in gold leaf.

“Wow,” Lei said as they turned to stop in front of the gate. “This guy wasn’t short ondinero.”

“Katie told you he was a real estate venture capitalist,” Pono reminded.

A motion sensor must have spotted them because the gates swung open to reveal a driveway lined in olive trees. Pono drove forward, and they meandered along a graveled drive for a bit, eventually pulling into a circular turnaround featuring a fountain covered in colorful hand-printed tiles.

This gracious display fronted a Mediterranean-style mansion made of creamy stucco with a terra-cotta roof. Arched windows and a wide, tiled verandah framed by potted, full-size fern trees made a welcoming entrance. A child’s tricycle was parked beside the large, distressed wood double front door.

That trike was a heartbreaking sight. Lei and Stevens’s daughter Rosie was about the age of the little Kleftes girl. Lei tried to imagine how Rosie would react to the news that her beloved Papa was never coming home.

“Proof right here that money can’t keep away the grim reaper.” Pono rubbed his mustache with a finger, brows furrowed. “You do the honors. I’ll distract the kid.”

Lei sighed. “Okay.” Her chest was tight with dread.

They got out and approached the front door. The same sensor that opened the gate had alerted the mistress of the house; she opened one side of the double door and stood framed in it, a toddler on her hip, as they crossed the verandah.

The little girl had a halo of fluffy black curls and tawny brown skin; she looked like her mother, a pretty woman in a colorful muumuu.

Lei had expected Kleftes’s wife to be Caucasian, since he was white. Funny how those assumptions crept in.

They held up their credential wallets for the woman to see as they approached. “Hello, Mrs. Kleftes. I’m Sergeant Leilani Texeira, and this is my partner, Detective Pono Kaihale. May we come inside? We have some important news about your husband.”

“He didn’t come home last night. I was about to call the police.” Miranda Kleftes had one hand on the door and the other held her daughter clasped tightly to her hip. Her posture was rigid; her full lips had gone taut and drained of color. “And now, here are the police. This can’t be good.”

“I think it would be best if you got your child settled so we can speak freely,” Lei said with all the kindness she could infuse into her tone.

Mrs. Kleftes turned away, leaving the door ajar so they could follow her through a small entry lined with bright pots of orchids. The living room beyond was enormous, with a bank of windows facing out to frame the vista of sea, sky, and West Maui Mountains that was available from this position on Haleakala.

Murmuring softly, Mrs. Kleftes settled the toddler on a beanbag in a corner of the room, facing away from them and toward a little carpeted play area lined with toys. She put a bright pink pair of headphones on the little girl’s head and gave her a rubber-padded electronic tablet. Once the tot was engaged, she turned to face them.

A beat went by. Lei struggled to find words; as often as she did this, it never got easier. But in the end, she didn’t have to say a word. Miranda Kleftes’s large brown eyes filled with tears; her hands clasped together, rising to press against her chest. Her voice came out hoarse and broken as she said, “Jonas isn’t coming back, is he?”

“No, Mrs. Kleftes. I’m afraid he’s not,” Lei said.

The woman fainted so abruptly Lei didn’t have time to move.

Thankfully Pono, who’d seen it coming, lunged forward to catch her head and shoulders just in time to prevent Miranda from slamming face-first into the hard tile floor. He lifted Mrs. Kleftes in brawny arms and lay her down on a nearby distressed leather couch. “She’s pregnant,” he announced quietly. “There’s a baby bump under this muumuu.”

“Aw, no,” Lei whispered. “That baby will never know its father.” Lei’s legs had gone rubbery with the shock of what had just happened to Miranda Kleftes, a near miss as the pregnant widow almost injured herself.

Lei collapsed onto the couch beside the woman’s prone body. “Did I mention I hate this killer?”

“No, that was me,” Pono said over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen to get a glass of water for the victim—because that was what Miranda Kleftes—and her children, born and unborn—were. Their lives would never be the same.

Lei fanned Mrs. Kleftes with a magazine she grabbed from the coffee table as Pono returned with a glass of cold water.

The living room was filled with the scent of the orchids from the entryway, a delicate fragrance that seemed at odds with the gravity of the situation. Sunlight poured through the windows, casting a warm glow that highlighted dust motes dancing in the air; but even in the peaceful setting, the atmosphere was tense and heavy.

Miranda Kleftes stirred, her eyelashes fluttering as she came to. Pono knelt beside her, offering the glass. Her hand shook as she took it, sitting up to sip the water slowly, doe eyes focusing on Lei with a mixture of fear and resignation in their depths. “What happened?”

“Your husband was killed. It was not natural causes.”

Miranda handed the glass back to Pono and lay down on her side. “I need to rest. I don’t feel well.”

This kind of news could only be digested in stages; they would tell her more when she was ready.

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