Mare's Nest Read online

Ken had the gun out but was holding it down at his side. I reckoned he believed he had taken the fight out of me by bashing me in the head. I struggled to throw my legs out and over the lip of the boot. Then I scooted backward on my stomach until my toes touched the ground. Putting my palms on the bottom of the compartment I pushed myself into a standing position, to the left of Ken.

  "Get the shovel out of the trunk," Ken said.

  "Going to make me dig my own grave, Ken?" I said. "That it?"

  "Shut up and get the shovel like I told you," Ken said.

  I bent over, reaching into the boot as if to retrieve the spade, watching Ken out of the corners of my eyes. I expected him to take a step back when I went for the spade. Instead, he took a half step closer. He must have known what I’d already worked out. Given its length, it would take too long for me to wind up and swing the shovel with enough force to do him any real harm. He must have thought by getting closer, if I tried swinging the spade, he’d only need to bear hug me and take it away. I reached in. It wasn’t the spade I came out with though, but the tyre iron. It was compact, only a little more than a half meter in length, which allowed for a tight swing arc. But it was solid steel, and heavier than the spade. The acceleration of velocity would occur much faster when swung. Once I had a grip on the iron, I started to straighten and rotate my feet from right to left. That required me to turn my back to Ken for a split second, but that was okay. Action always beats reaction. The human brain must first interpret what the eyes see before reacting to it. By the time I came back around and Ken was again in my view, I was three-quarters of the way through the swing arc. The leading edge of the iron approached the greatest velocity.

  Ken’s eyes were open wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. He realized what was happening, but too late. He was in desperation mode playing catch up. Forced to make a split-second decision, his brain told him to rely on the gun rather than moving to try to avoid the blow. But action always beats reaction, every single time. Ken was way behind and didn’t even come close to getting the gun in position to shoot in time.

  It all seemed so surreal as if everything was moving in slow motion like we were in a vacuum. I didn’t hear a sound until the steel connected with flesh. I was holding the straight end of the iron. The straight part at the opposite end struck Ken’s jawline and the crooked part of it, the left side of his head. I heard the thump of metal meeting meat and the sound of breaking bone. A pink burst of spray hung in the air after the blood sprayed from Ken’s mouth. He went down hard, losing his grip on the pistol in the process. It went skittering into the red dirt.

  Enraged, my adrenaline was pumping. I’d already raised the iron and started coming down to finish Ken with a second blow before I regained control. I stopped myself. He was down, and it was clear he was unconscious. Another blow now and self-defense would become murder. I stumbled backward, and my arse came to rest on the rear bumper of the car. I sat for a moment struggling to regain control of my emotions. I looked around.

  Ken had stopped the car on a rutted red dirt road that ran between thick, head-high cane fields on either side. It looked like a perfect place to bury a body. No one would find a grave here for a long while, if ever. I still had the iron in my hand. I had decided to not to kill Ken, assuming I hadn’t already. But I had to neutralize him. I had to leave him here but had nothing to tie him up with. I didn’t want to leave myself in the position of looking over my shoulder, watching for him to appear again somewhere.

  I stood up, raised the iron over my head, and brought it down again, but this time I didn't aim for his head. Ken was lying on his right side, and the unforgiving steel came down on his left leg below the knee. There was another crack of broken bone. Ken moaned and jerked, but I doubted he felt much pain from the blow. He was still out of it. Likely the leg didn’t even hurt now, but I reckoned it would hurt like a bastard when he came to if he did.

  I flung the iron out into the cane field. I walked over and picked up the pistol with my pinkie through the trigger guard. It was evidence to prove the case of self-defense if I needed it. I tossed the pistol into the boot of the car and closed the lid.

  I went back to Ken and dug through his pants pockets until I found the folding knife. I opened it and cut the duct tape off my wrists. I threw the knife into the field. Looking down at Ken I said, "I warned you. I told you not to touch me you bastard."

  The keys were still in the ignition. Sliding behind the wheel, I started the car and made a turnabout through the edge of the cane field. Back on the red dirt road, I accelerated and drove away, clouds of red dust from the road billowing in the wake of the big car.

  Chapter 18

  THE PERFECT STORM OF rage and adrenaline had passed. All I felt was fatigue and weakness. I was sick of the case and tired of Hawaii. I wanted to go home, I wanted to see Malone. Did I want him to comfort me? To feel sorry for me for all I’d been through? I didn't know. I only knew this was meant to be an ordinary missing person case, but it had turned out anything but. A real mare’s nest.

  At the end of the red dirt road into the cane fields was a paved road. With no idea where I was, I turned left onto the road because I had to go some direction. Looking at the odometer I noted the mileage. I’d need to be able to provide directions to this place. After five minutes or so I came to an intersection with another road. There was a sign at street sign at the intersection. The road I’d been driving on was Kahuku Road and I had arrived at Kamehameha Highway. There was a servo at the intersection. After parking, I walked to a pay telephone near the petrol pumps. I dialed 911. I told the operator that there was an unconscious man down with severe injuries. I explained the man was on a rural road in some cane fields. After giving the operator the directions from the intersection I was at, she asked my name. I hung up the phone and got back in the car.

  After debating the wisdom of it for a few moments, I picked up the receiver and made another call. Allison Shaw answered the phone.

  "Ken didn’t get the job done," I said. "I’m on my way back there. We’re all going to sit down and have a civilized conservation about who killed your father."

  Allison gasped in astonishment, but she stayed on the line. I told her I’d seen her shoot Jimmy Kamaka and that I had the gun she had used.

  "If you and your mum aren't waiting at the house when I arrive, I’ll ring the police and tell them everything I've told you. I’ll give them the gun. Have the conversation with me when I arrive. Let's work something out."

  The line went dead. I didn’t know whether that meant Allison had accepted or rejected my offer. Only one way to find out.

  STOPPING IN THE DRIVE in front of the house, I saw a neat row of suitcases on the porch next to the front door. The door was standing open. With care, I entered the house, clearing the place room by room as I continued down the hallway. There were no voices, no noises at all. The house had the feel of emptiness. There was no sign of Kathleen or Allison. After searching the first floor, I went upstairs. Still nothing. Where had they gotten off to? Why would they have left without the luggage? I didn’t believe Kathleen would have left at all without hearing news of Ken. I started back out the front door to check the outbuildings when I saw it. There was a note pinned to the wall beside the front door. I pulled it off the wall and read it.

  I have Kathleen and Allison. Bring the money to St. Catalina Seaside Chapel on Kalanianaole Highway. It’s off the entrance to Sea Life Park. Be there at 10:00 p.m. sharp. Come alone and be on time. NO TRICKS. I’m out of patience. If I smell one whiff of the cops. Or you’re late, or you don’t bring my money they will both die, and their blood will be on your hands.

  Adam, the rat bastard. He kept turning up. Seemed he had managed to get away from the cop in Kailua and somehow had made it back to Shaw’s place ahead of me. Bloody hell. The note be damned, it seemed it was time to turn things over to the Honolulu police.

  All I knew for certain was that I wasn't going to show up at St. Catalina Seaside Chapel and hand
over the money to Adam. No bloody way. He’d crossed the line by committing an actual kidnapping now. No doubt following his instructions to the letter would likely get both the Shaw women killed and me. Still in a bit of a fog from the blow to the head, I needed an objective opinion. I walked out to the motorbike and retrieved my mobile from the compartment beneath the seat.

  I punched in Malone’s mobile number. It wasn’t that I needed Malone to tell me what to do. What I needed was another perspective. I needed the opinion of someone who could look at the situation through the lens of objectivity. Malone answered on the second ring.

  "You all right T. J.?" Malone said.

  "No, not feeling too flash at the moment," I said. "Things keep going from bad to worse."

  "What happened?"

  I gave Malone the highlights.

  "Ah shit," Malone said. "T. J., I think you need to get the cops involved now. If the guy who tried to kill you in the cane fields is dead, you’re going to catch some heat over it. Sounds like you still aren’t completely out of the woods on the Douglas Shaw murder. Now you’ve got a double kidnapping."

  "Yep, I had sort of come to the same conclusion, but what if it goes wrong. The note said he would kill them if I called the cops. I believe he will do it."

  "It would be unfortunate if Adam kills them," Malone said. "But, if he does, that’s on him. And, think about it. What do you owe Kathleen and Allison Shaw? They both more or less consented to you being murdered and buried in a cane field. Seems obvious they were somehow involved in getting you framed for Douglas’ murder. Hell, one of them may have murdered Douglas."

  "Yep, I have considered all that," I said. "But, they don’t deserve to die for it."

  "No, they don’t, but I still think you need to turn this over to cops now," Malone said.

  "Yep, you’re right, of course," I said. "I only needed a second opinion from a clear head to be sure I was doing the right thing."

  "I’m sorry you walked into a shit storm," Malone said. "I never dreamed a simple missing person case would turn into something like it has."

  "No worries," I said. "Not your fault. Shaw wasn’t straight with you on what was going on. No way you could have known that until I got here."

  "So, you will call HPD?" Malone said.

  "Yep, I’ll call Detective Young when I hang up. Then I’ll go collect the money, and the gun used to kill Kamaka. I’ll come clean and tell them everything I know, minimizing the first kidnapping part of it of course. I’ll give the police everything along with the note and let them take it from there."

  "I think that’s best," Malone said.

  "Sorry I’ve done such a shit job with the first real case you’ve given me," I said.

  "T. J. you have done nothing of the sort," Malone said. "You can’t look at it that way. You've done an outstanding job with what you’ve had to work with."

  "Thanks and all that," I said, "but I still feel like it has been a big fail. I let the client be killed, and now his wife and daughter may be next."

  "You’re hurt and exhausted T. J., that’s all. After you finish with HPD, go to a hospital and get your head checked out. Then get some rest. I need you back home in one piece."

  "Ahkay, I will," I said.

  "And call me if you need anything, anything at all," Malone said.

  "Yep, sure, I will," I said.

  We said goodbye and hung up. I was still packing a bit of a sad, but I felt a little better knowing Malone didn’t seem to think me a total incompetent.

  I called HPD and left a message for Detective Young to call me. It seemed best to wait for his call before going to Kailua to retrieve the money and guns from the locker. It was a short wait. He called back in less than five minutes.

  I first told Young about Ken, where I’d left him, and that I’d already called 911. Then I told him about Adam, the kidnapping of Kathleen and Allison Shaw, and read him the note left at their house. Last, I told him I had a lot of other things to tell him and some property to turn over to the police and asked to meet him. He agreed to meet me in the lobby of my hotel as soon as I could get there. I told him to give me until seven because I had to make a stop on the way to get the property I’d be handing him. We hung up.

  The helmet made my head throb all the more, but I climbed on the motorbike anyway and took off for Kailua.

  Chapter 19

  IT WAS 6:02 WHEN I parked the motorbike at my hotel and walked into the lobby. Carrying the backpack I’d retrieved in Kailua, I scanned the lobby. I didn’t see Detective Young. Not that I expected to. It was still almost an hour until seven.

  Given my state, what I most wanted was a drink, but I also wanted to shower before Young arrived. I took the lift up to my room and opened the door with the key card. He was sitting in a chair by the sliding doors that entered on the balcony.

  Adam smirked and stood up, pointing the pistol at me. "Hello O’Sullivan," he said. "You look surprised to see me. Surely, you didn’t think I was going to wait at the chapel to meet you. That would have given you all that time in the world to tell the police all about it so they could surround the place."

  "I admit I thought you’d been rather foolish," I said. "Where are Kathleen and Allison."

  "You’re a smart girl O’Sullivan. You’ll figure it out. Now toss the backpack over here."

  I took the backpack off my shoulder. Grasping it by the straps, I tossed it on the floor at Adam’s feet.

  "Well done," Adam said. "For once you’ve cooperated. Now, turn around and face the door."

  "Piss off," I said. "I’m not going to make it easy for you by allowing you to shoot me in the back."

  "You’ve got it all wrong. I never wanted to hurt anyone, I only wanted the money. Think about it, discharging this inside a hotel room would be very loud. Someone might see me leaving your room afterward. I will shoot if I have to, but I’d rather not. I don’t want a murder rap. Now, turn around like I told you and I won’t have to shoot you."

  Funny thing that when it comes down to it. Self-preservation seems to force you to do anything that seems to offer you the chance to survive. Even if it means taking the word of someone you don’t trust you find yourself doing it. Still, I hesitated for a beat. I struggled to decide if Adam would shoot me in the back if I turned or not. Then I gave in. I turned and faced the door.

  "See that wasn’t so hard," Adam said. "You've got to be willing to trust a little sometimes O’Sullivan if you want to survive a bad situation."

  I WOKE UP LISTENING to the sound of someone pounding on a door. Realizing I was face down on the floor, I tried to push myself up to my knees. But the room started to spin. I immediately collapsed back on the floor feeling like my head was going to explode.

  I reached back and touched my head behind my right ear where it hurt the worst. My fingers came away wet and sticky. Bloody hell. For the second time today I had been bashed in the head and rendered unconscious. The pounding on the door continued unabated, and I became aware someone was shouting my name. I forced myself to crawl to the door. Grabbing the door handle, I pulled myself to my knees and then to my feet. Dizzy and shaky, I turned the handle and pulled the door open a crack. Then the door was flung open wide, and Young grabbed before I fell down again.

  "How’s it going?" I said.

  "Okay," Young said. "You look like hell. You all right? What the hell happened?"

  "Yep, sure, all good," I said. "But I sure could use a drink."

  "What happened?" Young said again.

  "Adam was here waiting when I got back to my room," I said. "He ambushed me."

  Young helped me over to the bed. I sat down on the edge of the mattress.

  "You’re hurt," Young said. "You should lie down while I call for an ambulance."

  "No," I said. "I’ll be right in a moment."

  "You’re bleeding from the head, you might have a concussion."

  "Yep, he hit me with his gun," I said. "No worries, I’m used to it, it seems to happen all the time."


  "Was he alone?"

  "Yep, the women weren’t with him if that's what you mean. I remember asking him about them, but can’t remember what he said."

  "If you won’t let me call for an ambulance then we need to get you to a hospital." It was then I recalled what Adam had said. "You’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out" or some sort rubbish.

  "We have to get to that chapel right away," I said.

  "What?"

  "The chapel from the note, where Adam told me to bring the money," I said. "I'm sure Kathleen and Allison are there now. They could be hurt."

  "Okay, as soon as I drop you off at a hospital I get out there," Young said. "I’ll call Oshiro on the way and have her head there now with a tactical team."

  "No, I’m going with you," I said.

  "No, you can’t," Young said. "Even if you weren’t hurt, you couldn’t. You’re a civilian, and this is police business."

  "Fuck that," I said. "I’m involved in this, Young. I was almost killed twice today, and I’m bloody well going. You aren’t leaving me behind, no fucking way."

  "Okay, okay, calm down O’Sullivan," Young said.

  I stood up. My head hurt like a bastard, but the room had stopped spinning, and I was sure I could walk. "Come on, let’s go."

  In the lift, Young rang Oshiro. He told her to get a tactical team together and to get out to St. Catalina Seaside Chapel right away. He told her about Adam ambushing me at the hotel and that I thought the Shaw women might already be at the chapel. Young’s had left his unmarked police car in the driveway of the hotel. We got in, and Young took off with lights and sirens toward Kalanianaole Highway.

  "I still think you should go to a hospital," Young said.

  "I will when this is over," I said. "To be fair, I’m not feeling too flash at the moment."

  "Maybe the Shaw women are okay," Young said. "Adam didn’t kill you."

  "Maybe," I said. "But he did mention that he didn’t want to shoot me in a hotel room. He said it would make too much noise and might attract attention when he left my room. He took everything by the way."