Ken Wakamoto had an open, concerned expression when he first saw the policemen, but his expression closed up completely as soon as he heard the news. He accompanied them to the station stiffly, saying almost nothing. He identified Kazuma’s body with a nod, anguish hinting in his eyes but nowhere else as he stared fixedly at the dead face of the man he had loved. When Inspector Kanahele requested to ask him a few questions, Wakamoto shook his head, and asked for some time.

Realizing he was unlikely to get more than monosyllables from him at this time anyway, Kanahele accepted.

“Somebody accompany him back to the hotel. Make sure he doesn’t leave,” he told a uniformed officer. “We’ll give him a few hours to deal with his grief. Question people in the morning, when Wayne’s gotten all he needs to know from the autopsy. And Sergeant?” he turned to Fujita. “Go with them. See who else might know something about this. Let’s meet there at eight tomorrow and start talking to people. I’m going to see what I can arrange with our Mr. Oosterhout.”

***

The autopsy of Kazuma Ueshiba was brief and straightforward. Death had been caused by multiple blows to the back of the head with a blunt object between the hours of one and three AM on Tuesday, December 15th. The body had then been taken out to sea and dropped overboard, probably without being weighted first. Ocean waves had brought the body back to shore at around 2:20 PM on Thursday, December 17th, but not before scavenger fish had made off with small nibbles.

***

“Morning, Inspector,” Cindy waved. She was in a palm-tree-and-hibiscus print shirt and a modestly short linen skirt.
“Sergeant,” Rob eyed her. “What are you wearing?”
“Blending in with the tourists, sir,” she smiled, freckled nose crinkling.

Kanahele grunted, but didn’t argue. There was just no arguing with some people.

They went up the stairs and straight to Oosterhout’s office, where the manager was waiting for them, crisply dressed.

“Mr. Oosterhout.”
“Inspector,” Oosterhout nodded. “Er, miss. Please, sit down.”
“Thank you,” Kanahele did. Cindy followed suit. “You’ve prepared everything I mentioned yesterday?”

The manager smiled thinly. “It advantages no one for me to stand in the way of law enforcement in my hotel.” He made it sound like he expected not standing in their way would be to his advantage. “Cooperating fully strikes me as the simplest way to get this tied up quickly, and quietly.”
“Hm. So where should we set up?”
“I’ve put a suite at your disposal. Room 1112, it’s on the top floor,” he passed them both keycards. “It’s yours for as long as you need it, Inspector.”
“Thank you,” Kanahele nodded. “We’re also going to want to search some of the rooms.” He pulled the search warrant out of his briefcase, handed it to Oosterhout who looked it over.
“Fair enough,” the manager said tightly. “… You really think it was murder? And that one of our guests is responsible?”

Kanahele looked at Cindy, then at him. “It’s too early to say anything for sure, Mr. Oosterhout. But the coroner’s verdict was homicide, and when you look for a motive, you can’t get much further than this hotel for suspects.”

Oosterhout nodded. “I understand. Well, if you can keep it subtle that would be much appreciated,” he said. “We’ve had one journalist here already, who I managed to shoo away. But as tragic as this event has been for some of our guests, I don’t want it to sour the stays of other vacationers. You understand?”
“Of course,” Kanahele smiled a bit. “We’ll do our best.”
Oosterhout’s pale eyes showed relief.

***

Room 1112 was one of the smaller suites, but ample for the police’s needs. Kanahele and Fujita set up camp in the bedroom, laying out their notes on the spacious desk. The living area would be used to question relevant individuals, starting with Wakamoto himself, in half an hour. Kanahele eyed the bed warily, then opened the blinds wide and sat on the chair.

“Hey, you think Oosterhout’s gay?”
“What?” Cindy asked. “Probably, if he runs this place. I hadn’t thought about it. Why?”
“No reason. Do you have the files he gave you?”

Cindy handed him the packet. “Right here, sir.”
Rob pulled out the papers, and flipped through them. Ueshiba and Wakamoto had checked in on December 10th, in room 802. Scuba or surf equipment was rented on Wakamoto’s credit card every day until the 14th, and room service was called in every morning and sometimes at night. There were six phone calls to private numbers in Japan, each lasting at least ten minutes, four before the 14th and two since. No outsiders to the hotel had registered to visit the occupants of room 802. On December 14th, Ueshiba checked in to a separate room, 114, paid for by Wakamoto’s credit card. There had been no phone calls from that room or activity of any kind.
“Sergeant, can you go see if there’s a Do Not Disturb sign on the door of room 114?” he tossed her a roll of yellow tape. “Stick some of this over the door if there is. Or even if there isn’t. Might be a crime scene in there. We’ll go check after these interviews.”
Fujita nodded.

After she left, Rob stood and put some coffee on to brew. Swank hotel, he noted. They have good java.
He put the coffee pot on the windowsill to free up desk space, and looked out the window as the water boiled.

Phone calls. It was annoying that the numbers were blocked. He wondered if there was a way to get them, even if the hotel had no record of them. He’d get someone at the station to contact the phone company.

The suite had a view of the Pacific, and Rob watched the waves crest and break on the beach. It was good surfing weather out there. Getting better every day…
He thought again about the body being found a mile down the shore. If he could find out the strength of the current that night… maybe there was a way to estimate where the body had been dropped into the sea. But would that help them at all? They hadn’t even found the murder weapon or the scene of the crime yet. What use would finding the place the body had been thrown overboard be?

When Cindy returned, the pot was full of coffee but Kanahele hadn’t poured himself a cup yet.

“All done,” she smiled. “Do Not Disturb sign’s been there since Monday as far as the cleaning staff remembers, and it’s locked from the inside. Bolted.” She looked accomplished.
“Boats,” Rob said.
“What?”
“Make a note to find out who took out a boat on the night of the 14th. Someone braved the waves to throw Mr. Ueshiba into the deep blue. If it was someone from the hotel, they would have had to use a hotel boat, or else steal one somewhere. Let’s make sure to look into that.”

She nodded. “Good idea.”
Rob poured them both some coffee.
“For now, though, let’s start getting people in here. The bereaved boyfriend first.”

***

“You were lovers?”

Ken looked haggard. “This can’t get into the papers. Can you promise me this won’t get into the papers?” He pulled his hand over his ashen face. “We were supposed to be taking a quiet trip together incognito. This can’t become public. I’m an accomplished man of business. Rumors of me taking a vacation with my gay lover, I could have dealt with. Rumors that my gay lover was murdered while on vacation with me, it’s not so easy. Do you understand?” He frowned up at the detective. “This can’t get back to the people at home.”
“You seem awful concerned about your reputation, Mr. Wakamoto.” Rob looked at him.
“I have to be. Business is a careful game, Mr. inspector.”
“And is murder a careful game to you too, Mr. Wakamoto?”
Rob suppressed a cringe at Cindy’s flair for the dramatic.
Ken looked at her with hard eyes. “I didn’t kill Kazuma. I loved him.”

“That’s not what we gathered from other guests at the hotel,” Cindy pointed out, making a show of looking at her notes. “There were witnesses to a very public fight you had…? The evening before Mr. Ueshiba died.” She gave him a telling look.

He huffed out a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t kill him!” He scuffed his chair back.

“Why don’t you tell us exactly what did transpire between you two, then.” Kanahele looked at him. “Neither of us are journalists. We have no reason to leak anything to the papers.” We’re not going to protect you if you’re guilty, though, Rob thought to himself. Then, all bets are off.

“Where were you between the hours of one and three AM, on the evening from Monday to Tuesday?”
“I was in my room.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
“Who was with you?”
“Adam. I don’t know his last name.”

“You got over your little boyfriend pretty fast,” Kanahele pointed out.
Ken glared at him. “I believe there is a term, ‘rebound’?” he narrowed his eyes. “I am a free man to do what I chose. With who I chose.”

The inspector shrugged. “Sure. Just sayin’.” He looked at the big Japanese man. “Ever been to Hawaii before?”
“No,” Ken frowned. “Why?”
“No reason,” Kanahele said. “What made you pick Hawaii this time?”

Ken looked at his hands.
“Kazuma wanted it. He wanted to scuba dive and learn to surf. He wanted something more tropical and lush than Australia, which was what I had suggested in the first place, by the way. He…” Ken shook his head.
“I know this is hard to talk about,” Sgt. Fujita said, “but we’ve heard that Mr. Ueshiba’s behaviour in the day preceding his disappearance was strange. Do you support this observation?”
“Oh, definitely,” Wakamoto nodded, with vigor. “I’d never seen him like that. Sure, he acted self-destructively sometimes, but never like this. He was saying all sorts of bad things about himself, about how … how low and shameless and unclean he was, things like that. About how he was corrupting me. Which is nonsense,” Ken frowned with a shake of his head. “The kind of nonsense my daughter spews. But then again,” Ken’s voice became a low growl, “I shouldn’t be surprised about that anymore.”
“Why is that?”

Wakamoto looked at the inspector.
“Kazuma was having an affair with my daughter, Misato. That’s what our fight was about. It seems it was weighing on his conscience or something and he chose the most inopportune moment to tell me. In the buffet line early in our first vacation together.”

The police officers showed their surprise.

“I take it you had no suspicion of this?” Kanahele asked.

“None,” Ken scowled. “She hated him. At least, that’s what I thought,” he grumbled. “She either changed her mind or was lying from the start.”
“Or Kazuma was lying,” Cindy mentioned.
Wakamoto gave her a sharp look. “What would make you say that?”
She shrugged, and looked at Kanahele sheepishly. The inspector considered.
“He could have been trying to anger you.”
“Well, anger me he did. I broke up with him on the spot.” He narrowed his eyes at the inspector. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but he seemed quite sincere. He was very drunk. Like it was something that he needed a lot of alcoholic help in letting off his chest. And he was never the type to make up stories, anyway.”

“Do you think we could have a phone number at which to reach your daughter? Have you been in contact with her since Mr. Ueshiba’s revelation to you?”
Wakamoto sobered. “Oh. No, I haven’t… I … was so upset with Kazuma… I didn’t think to call her. Perhaps,” he ran a hand over his forehead, “I didn’t want confirmation that it was true. I don’t know how I’ll face her next.”
“Does she live with you?”
He shook his head. “No. She lives alone. She’s 20 and studying at Keio University, she took an apartment closer to campus not to have to handle crowded transit times. She often comes home on the weekends, though.”
“Do you have a wife?” Kanahele asked.
Wakamoto smiled a little. “No, inspector. She died when Misato was seven. Car accident,” he pulled down his collar, revealing a gashlike scar on his clavicle.
“So you raised your daughter alone?” This was Cindy.
“Yes,” Wakamoto nodded.
“When did Kazuma Ueshiba enter your life?”

Ken’s expression clouded again. “We met a little over a year ago. We’ve – we’d been seeing each other since Christmas last year.”
“And your daughter, she didn’t like him?”
Ken sighed, grudgingly. “Inspector, I’ve had a number of lovers since my wife’s death 13 years ago. I usually hid it from Misato, but in time I thought she should understand that I had a personal life. I thought she would understand. She became terribly upset when she found out. This was with the man I had been seeing before Kazuma. Misato was about seventeen, I’d say. I thought she would be mature enough. She has always been a terribly serious girl, very no-nonsense, very good at her studies, very rational about boys. A model daughter, if a little too straight-laced, perhaps. I can’t believe she’d –” Ken frowned, and shook his head.
“But you didn’t think to check with her yourself that what Mr. Ueshiba had said was correct, rather you chose to believe your drunken lover.”

Ken had a sad chuckle. “When you put it that way…”
He sighed.
“Should I call her?”
Fujita shook her head. “If you haven’t contacted her yet, perhaps you should leave it up to us.”

Wakamoto nodded, looking exhausted.
“Thank you. I’d rather not have to cross that bridge yet, myself.” He shook his head slowly, with a dark expression.

“One more question, Mr. Wakamoto,” Rob leaned back in his chair, eyeing his notes. “Several phone calls were placed from your hotel room, all to private numbers in Japan. One on the 11th, two on the 12th, one on the 14th, one on the 15th, and one yesterday.” He looked at him. “Who were you calling?”

Ken shook his head. “Business,” he said, looking introspective, trying to recall. “I’m not sure about all of them, some might have been Kazuma. But I got two important emails while I was here, one the day I arrived and one a few days later. I needed to make some calls to my office or my colleagues to resolve things.” He looked at Cindy. “And yesterday, I called my lawyer,” he had a sincere expression. “As you surely understand.”

“We may need to confiscate your computer,” Kanahele mentioned.
“Am I being charged with anything?” Wakamoto looked at him levelly, sitting straight.
“Not yet.”
“But I am a suspect.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure you understand why, Mr. Wakamoto,” Cindy said.
Wakamoto sighed. “Of course. I would suspect myself as well. I need my laptop to continue work. Just because a tragedy has befallen here does not stop life from moving on back home. And I believe you will need a special warrant to claim my belongings -”
“We have it,” Kanahele said. He pulled it from the desk.
Wakamoto huffed. “Then there’s nothing I can do, obviously. I do not wish to let my laptop out of my sight. There are certain documents on there that contain proprietary information for my business. Is this truly necessary?”

“We’ll hold on to your laptop for you, Mr. Wakamoto,” Rob said. “You’ll get it back, don’t worry.”

Wakamoto sighed.

***

“So, Ueshiba was cheating on him with his daughter, huh? That must sting.”
“Enough for murder?”
“A lot of things that would surprise you have been reason enough for murder,” Kanahele mused. “One time, early in my career, this woman killed her neighbour because she had stolen her kalua pig for the July 4th luau. Heck, my ex-wife once threatened to kill the girl at the pet salon who mixed up two customer jobs and ended up shaving my wife’s damn Yorkie.”

Cindy smiled. The inspector almost never spoke of his ex-wife.
She stirred some coffee whitener into her cup.

“He’s right, though. We do need a special warrant to search his computer.”
“Yeah, but we can grab the machine under this one. We’re just not allowed to turn it on. But he doesn’t have to know that.”
“Trying to make his life difficult?”
“Trying to protect possible evidence from deletion, Sergeant,” Kanahele said sternly.
“Right. Sorry, sir,” Cindy sipped her coffee sheepishly.

Kanahele grunted. “Who’s up next?”
“Cleaning staff. The five who cover the floors where events we’ve deemed important in this investigation took place. Should we interview them separately?”
“Nah,” Rob said. “Just bring ‘em up all at once. This should be quick.”

***

Five young men were ushered into the room. Most were quite pretty, and the only notable exception had an equally notable musculature. Kanahele pursed his lips as he looked up at him.

“All right. Who’ve we got here. Sigmund? Villenza? Sawada? Del Vecchio? Yamamoto.” The boys either raised their hands or mumbled when their names were called. He could tell this would not be a talkative bunch. “Right. The night of December 14th. Where were you? What do you remember? You first, Sigmund.”

Jon Sigmund, the one with the physique, fidgeted. “I… I was vacuuming the hallways,” he said.
“Where would you have been between 1:00 and 3:00?”
“Uhh… I start at the top floor and make my way down, and my shift starts at midnight, soo….” He shuffled in his seat. “I guess I was… on the 9th and 8th and 7th,” he said. “It takes me about 40, 45 minutes to do a floor.”
“Do you know when you would have been on the 8th floor? Exactly?”
Sigmund shrugged. “Not exactly. I don’t remember. But probably, uhh,” he did some math in his head. It took a minute. “Well, like approximately 2 to 3, I guess. Bit after, I dunno.”

Kanahele nodded. That would have to do. “And, did you see any activity at all? people going in or out of rooms?”
“Oh, yeah,” Sigmund said. “A few times.”
“What about room 802?”
The tall boy frowned, thoughtfully.
“….That’s the one at the end of the hall. No,” he shoook his head.
“You sure?”
Sigmund nodded decisively. “Yeah. No one went in or out that I saw.”
“The door was always in your line of sight?”
“Oh, no,” the tall boy blinked. “Half of the time I’m doing the other wing.”
Kanahele had an internal sigh. “Can you tell me as exactly as possible the time you would have been able to see the door to room 802?”

Sigmund thought for a minute. “Probably 2:15 to 2:45. Give or take a little.”
The inspector jotted this down. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” the boy said.
“Sawada,” Kanahele said next. “You were also on duty that night. Correct?”

The small cleaner nodded.
“Where were you between 1:00 and 3:00?”
Sawada nibbled his bottom lip, and when he finally spoke Kanahele could see the hesitation was probably not due to shyness, but rather because English was not his mother tongue.
“I was cleaning, in the dining room, after all the dining was finished. Washing the carpet, with the machine.”
The inspector nodded. “This would have been the main dining room? The one with the carrot soup incident?”
Sawada smiled a bit, lips squeezing together, and he nodded.
“And then?”
“At 2:30 I put away the machine in the storage cabinet at the end of the first floor hallway. And then I went to bed.”
“Did you see any activity at room 114?”
Sawada nibbled his girlish lip. “Mmm….. No.”

“Anyone else?” Kanahele asked. “Anyone was around the 8th floor or the 1st floor on Dec. 14th?”
“I was there earlier,” bleach-blond Del Vecchio said. “Like, around supper time. I totally saw that guy who died? I saw him move into that room. Like, at like, 8 or whatever.”
“Did you,” the inspector said. “Did he seem upset?”
“Ohhhhhhh yeah,” Del Vecchio nodded. “Really a lot. He put on the Do Not Disturb sign like, right away, and that was that.”
“What time did you say this was?”

The boy scratched a pimple on his neck. “I dunno, like, 8 maybe? Sorry, I’m not sure.”

“Anyone else saw anything going on around room 114 or room 802? That night or since then?”

There was some silence.
Yamamoto shook his head. “Uh. I clean the rooms on the first floor,” he said. “In the mornings. Never been in 114 since that guy took it. I knock, no answer. Always the sign.” He shook his head, frowning. “You know, when the sign is up, you just don’t go in. How should I have known he was dead, you know!”
Kanahele nodded. “No one’s blaming you.” He looked across their assorted little faces. “Anything else?”

Silence, fidgeting.
“Well, if anyone remembers anything new, me or one of my colleagues will reachable at this room at all times. If you want to say something anonymously, that’s okay too. All right? Just call. I’ll be staying overnight, too.” He looked across them again, and was met by some nods.

“All right. Thanks for your time.”

***

“Hnh, well, no smoking gun there.” Kanahele stood and walked to the window.
“You’re staying overnight, inspector?”
“I might as well,” he said. “I’ll go pick up a couple shirts and stuff at home, later. We’ve got a hotel room, might as well use it. Sure saves travel time.”
Cindy smiled. “And me?”
“Oh, you go home,” Rob said, encouragingly. “You’ve got those cats to feed and all that, right? There’s no need for you to stick around once we’re done for the day, if you’re back early tomorrow.”
“Early like seven?”
“Mm.” Kanahele sat back down.”So, who have we got next?”

“The guy Wakamoto replaced his boyfriend with. Mister rebound.” Fujita opened a thin file. “And I’ve got to say, he’s an interesting one.”

***

“Adam Kunitz?”
“That’s me.” Adam stretched out his legs under the table.
“Quite the little arrest record you have here, Adam. Five counts of petty larceny. Twelve of public indecency. One of urinating in public–”
“I was extremely drunk,” Adam was compelled to point out.
“– and two of assault.” Cindy pushed her glasses up her nose, and eyed him.

“Never convicted,” Adam objected.

Cindy continued her wilting librarian gaze. Adam found it disconcertingly sexy.

“No convictions,” he repeated. “Give me a break. Officially, I did nothing wrong.”

Kanahele took the helm. “Mr. Kunitz, what do you do for a living?”
Adam turned his quirky blue stare to the Inspector. “Oh, this and that.”

“You were sleeping with Ken Wakamoto. Correct?”
“Correct,” Adam smiled. “That’s not a crime, is it?”
“Not in this state,” Rob replied deadpan.

“Where were you on the night of the 14th to the 15th, between one and three AM?”
Adam chuckled. “You don’t mince words, do you. Fine. I was in bed.”
“Alone?”
“With Ken Wakamoto.” he looked at the two detectives, daringly. “And we weren’t sleeping, in case that was your next question.”

“Did you know Kazuma Ueshiba?” Cindy asked.
Adam shook his head. “I saw the fight. That’s all. Never talked to him.”
“How did you meet Mr. Wakamoto?”
“Happened to be sitting next to him at the bar, after the fight,” Adam laced his hands behind his head. “Guy had been having a rough day, so I offered to cheer him up.”
“By killing his ex-boyfriend?”

Adam laughed.
“Ha! Good one, Inspector. You really aren’t subtle at all, and I like that,” his blue eyes caught and pinned Kanahele’s. “Anyway, the answer’s no. I offered to suck his dick, Inspector,” Adam said, playful eyes searching to see – and finding, with catlike satisfaction – that he could make the big detective flinch, even if just a little.

“You’re not afraid of the police, are you, Mr. Kunitz.”
Adam smiled. “Should I be?” he quirked an eyebrow.

Kanahele suppressed the urge to – to sock him, or walk out the door, or say something deeply inappropriate or something. But he was not by nature an angry man, and even if Kunitz rubbed him exactly the wrong way he wasn’t going to let it get to him.

“Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened between the fight and the next morning – excluding,” the inspector winced, interrupting Adam who was eagerly piping up – “excluding the intimate details. They have no bearing on this case.”

Adam smiled, and crossed his legs. “Okay, Inspector,” he smiled coyly. He rolled his shoulders, and began.

***

The fight had been very public indeed. Adam had been about to leave the dining room, having eaten early, but was intrigued by the hullabaloo. He had slipped out when Kazuma broke the tureen on the floor, and gone to the bar next door. This was maybe 8:30.
He stayed in the bar drinking Amaretto Sours until Wakamoto showed up. This would have been a little before 9:00. He was on his second one.
No, he hadn’t seen Wakamoto or Kazuma leave the dining room. But Wakamoto had presumably returned to his room to change his shirt in the interval, since Kazuma had poured soup on it before, and when he entered the bar it was clean.

Adam had mentioned seeing the quarrel, Wakamoto said something noncommittal, Adam offered to buy him a drink. Wakamoto declined, then asked if Adam was making a pass at him, to which Adam answered yes. This second offer was not declined, and after a quick drink they went back to Wakamoto’s room. There was no one else in the room, and Kazuma’s things were no longer in it. This would have been 9:20, 9:30 maybe. Wakamoto had told Adam that he had not had to tell Kazuma to get his things out, but that he had done it apparently by himself. He said he had left Kazuma enough money to get a room of his own, if he wanted, or take a plane back to Japan, and that he really didn’t care which of these he chose to do, so long as he never saw him again.

For the next forty minutes they were occupied together.

At 10:14 precisely – he had glanced at the clock – Adam went into the bathroom and took a shower. He remained in the bathroom for fifteen to twenty minutes. He heard nothing from the bedroom, but over the running water there wouldn’t have been much to hear anyway. When he exited the bathroom, Wakamoto appeared to be asleep. Adam looked around the room at his leisure and made a sound that woke Wakamoto approximately five minutes later.

Sometime between 11:00 and 11:30 (the time would have to be checked with hotel records) they ordered room service. Wakamoto had skipped dinner, angered at Kazuma’s behaviour, and was hungry. He ate liver and caramelized onions. Adam had a lobster tail with melted butter. They also ordered a bottle of champagne.

Sometime after midnight Wakamoto went into the bathroom and took a shower as well. Adam did not check the clock then. Yes, it could have been as late as 1:00, but that was unlikely. Anyway, the bathroom had no windows or anything, no way for Wakamoto to exit without being seen by Adam. He was in there for about 20 minutes, maybe a little more. Adam watched TV during that time, and drank champagne. It was a program on birds-of-paradise, and another channel had wrestling, and the others were completely unmemorable and he couldn’t remember details if he tried.

The next precise time Adam is sure about is 1:20, when he and Wakamoto finished the champagne. The subsequent hour and a half, to Adam’s estimation, was occupied with pleasant activities of a nature which have no bearing on this investigation. Afterward Adam visited the bathroom again, and was in there for approximately ten minutes. He again returned to find Wakamoto napping. To his recollection, he himself closed his eyes to sleep at 3:40. The time Wakamoto was out of his sight was probably from 2:50 to 3:00, or something like that.

Adam woke up at around 11:00 AM and Wakamoto was still sleeping. No, he doesn’t know if Wakamoto left during the night. Unlikely, because his heavy arm was squashing him for part of the night at least. But it was possible. Adam tended to have trouble falling asleep, but once he was out he was a very heavy sleeper.

In the morning they ordered room service again and didn’t leave the hotel room until dinner, which they went to together, in the same large dining room where Kazuma had made a scene because, according to Wakamoto, the hotel had presumably banned Kazuma from ever eating there again, and since he wanted to avoid the boy at all costs he would make sure not to eat elsewhere for the remainder of his stay.

There was nothing more to tell.

***

“I don’t like that Kunitz guy.”
“You think he did it?”

Cindy poured them both a cup of cofee from the pot on the windowsill.
“Not a big motive,” Kanahele admitted. He would have liked to have been able to pin this on Kunitz. The guy had no respect.
Cindy brought the inspector his coffee.
“He wants to keep being the big guy’s boyfriend to keep his supply of cash, our victim comes to try and make up with the boyfriend, Kunitz panics and kills him.”
“But Kunitz wasn’t Wakamoto’s boyfriend. Thanks,” Rob took the cup. “At least, not in any significant way. From what I gather Wakamoto was just acting out, as a response to Ueshiba’s betrayal.” He sipped and winced. Too hot. “He can’t have assumed he’d keep getting Wakamoto’s money once this had blown over.”
“After all this, though,” Cindy mused, leaning against the bed. “The tragedy with Ueshiba. I mean, Kunitz could comfort the big guy and worm his way into his heart, maybe even go back to Japan with him,” she pointed out. “He seemed pretty reckless. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Rob looked thoughtfully at nothing. Then he shook his head.
“Wakamoto’s too protective of his reputation. He’d never bring back some foreign hustler to replace his murdered lover. He’d never do it. Maybe if Kunitz was a woman – I don’t know.”
He sipped.
“Couple of intriguing windows of time for Wakamoto to sneak out and off the boyfriend, though. And for Kunitz, too.”
“But never more than ten or twenty minutes, you heard him,” Cindy sipped her coffee… “Not enough to take the body out to sea and dump it and be back in time to not get caught.”
“Unless one of them kills him while the other’s in the shower, stashes the corpse somewhere, then takes him out while the other guy’s sleeping, later in the night. Could still fit with Wayne’s report.”

Cindy nibbled her lip. “Ueshiba comes into the room, finds one of them, something occurs that leads to him bashing Ueshiba’s head in?”
“Something like that,” Ken frowned. It still didn’t quite feel right.
“And then they have sex while one of them knows there’s a dead body in the room? That’s pretty gross, inspector.” She made a face.

Kanahele chuckled. “Who knows, some people might get off on that. Might have stashed it under the bed even,” he laughed, with distaste.
“Ewwwwww.”

Cindy sipped her coffee. Ew.
“–Well, there’d certainly be evidence of that in Wakamoto’s hotel room.”
“Yep,” Rob sipped. He stood up. “It’s warrant time.”

***

Anna just couldn’t find the wherewithal to leave the hotel. At first, even leaving her room was too much – but when the images of the boy’s dead face started appearing behind her eyes every time she closed them, she knew she had to follow Stacy’s advice and do something to distract herself. She had nothing to do with the crime, anyway. She was just unlucky. She’d have to put it behind her. It wasn’t her problem.

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the hotel. She tried once to step onto the beach, and started hyperventilating. So that was out.
She went to the hotel giftshop and spent an hour browsing. In the end, she bought a trashy faux-Victorian romance novel – the most brainless thing she could find – as well as four candy bars and a novelty snow globe of a beach scene with little penis-shaped confetti instead of snow. It was ludicrous enough to make her smile.

She found an armchair hidden behind a potted plant near a window in a top-floor hallway, and huddled into it, tucking her feet under her. She unwrapped a candy bar and shook her little penis globe. Pleased, she put it down on the windowsill, and started reading.

Buxley Van Velmont was just beginning to press burning kisses of passion at Melvina’s heaving bosom when Anna noticed a shadow fall over her pages.

She looked up, with a breath.
The man smiled, and cocked a hip, standing casually.

“You’re the girl who found him, aren’t you,” Adam observed.

Anne’s face darkened, and she closed her book, keeping a finger at the page.
“Yeah.”
“Must have been awful.”

Anna sighed.
“Do you want something?” She glanced up.

Adam rocked back on his heels.
“I’m curious, that’s all.”
“Well go be curious somewhere else, please.” Her eyes were tired. “I don’t want to talk to you. In fact, I don’t want to talk to anyone. So unless you have something specific you want, I’d appreciate being left alone.”

Adam leaned against the windowsill.
“Fair enough,” he admitted. He shuffled a fashionably-sneakered foot on the carpeting, lost in reflection.

Anne stared at him. When it seemed he was just going to stand there, she rolled her eyes and resumed reading.

She was barely a few lines back into the heaving bosoms when she noticed Adam pick up her snow globe. He giggled.
“May I?”
She sighed and nodded. He turned it upside down, then righted it and watched all the tiny flat penises float down to the sand and sea.

Anna put down her book and looked at him, flatly.
“Okay, so what do you want?”

Adam fidgeted, shaking the snow globe.
“Well. I think I want to know what you told the police. I get the feeling I’m their main suspect. You wouldn’t happen to know why?”
“I think that should be obvious,” Anna raised an eyebrow. “But I didn’t tell them anything about you, I don’t even know anything about you. You’re that guy the dead guy’s boyfriend is, uh, seeing, aren’t you?”
Adam pursed his lips. “Uh-huh. Is, or was, I mean, murder throws a hell of a damper on a relationship.”

Anne regarded him. He seemed nice enough. From a completely different planet than she was, but probably a decent guy in his own way.
She sighed. “Listen, you seem like a nice guy and all, but I really don’t have the energy to talk right now. You weren’t out there. You don’t know what it was like to find that corpse washed up on the beach.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I… appreciate that you’ve got valid concerns or whatever, that you’re not just a nosy bastard like some people. But I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know you or that guy you’re with. I just told the police about the fight I’d seen. With the soup. If you ask me,” Anne looked up at him, “the boyfriend’s a bigger suspect than you are.” She crossed her arms. “Unless, I guess, you’ve got something to hide.”

Adam blinked coyly. “Me?” he quirked a smile. “Not in a million years.”

***

“Ah, Inspector!” Wakamoto stood tall, glaring at the policeman. “They won’t let me into my own room. Is there something I should know?”
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to do a search of the room,” Sgt. Fujita said.

“I see,” Wakamoto stepped back. He huffed. Eyed the two detectives, and the other two officers, one of them in uniform, that stood outside his room. “Well. I’ll be out of your hair then. Let me know when you’re done.”
He turned, and stalked off.

Sgt. Fujita watched him leave, and sighed.
“Funny guy, isn’t he, Inspector?”
“We’re about to find out just how funny he is,” Rob fished out the universal keycard Oosterhout had given him, and slotted it into the lock. “Sgt. Henderson, thanks for joining us.”

The officer not in uniform smiled. “My pleasure, Inspector. How about I get the lowdown on what we’re looking at here?”

***

Forensic squad work was almost always one of two things: digusting and really really hard, or disgusting and really really boring. Sometimes it managed to be both at once. But Tommy Henderson didn’t care. He’d never had a problem with gore and could handle smells better than most people, and when his enthusiasm and skills had snagged him one of Maui County’s few forensic science jobs, he’d jumped at the chance, and never looked back. With the help of the two detectives, he made short work of Wakamoto’s room.

“Well, so this place is clean,” Fujita pronounced, crossing her rubber-gloved arms.
“Manner of speaking,” Tommy quipped, hoisting a rubbery dildo and dropping it gingerly back in the drawer beside the Gideons’.
“Fairly inappropriate, Henderson,” Rob said impassibly, without looking up from Wakamoto’s day-planner.
“Sorry, Inspector.” Tommy rolled his eyes at Cindy, behind Rob’s back. She smiled a little.

“Well, what’s important is that this isn’t a crime scene, anyway,” Cindy said. She peeled off her gloves and tossed them in the garbage that she had just looked through. “No blood or other fluids anywhere except those you usually find in a hotel room. Right, Tommy?”
Tommy smiled. “That’s it,” he said. “And yeah, hotel rooms are nasty. Did you know most hotel comforters have like twelve different DNA splashes on ‘em?”
“DNA splashes?” Cindy asked.
“Semen,” Rob sighed. He looked up. “I saw that on TV, CSI was it?”

Tommy grinned and shook his head. Kanahele could be such a spoilsport.

“Well, it’s probably more than twelve in this place, anyway,” Tommy said. “But Cindy’s right. No blood, no murder weapon, no signs of struggle, nothing. If your guy killed his boyfriend, it’s not here that he did it.”

Kanahele sighed, and snapped Wakamoto’s planner shut.
“Nothing telling in any of his stuff, either.” He wasn’t expecting to find an entry like 2:25 AM – bludgeon Kazuma, but still.

“Well, we can check 114 next,” Cindy said, cheerfully. “You’ve got nowhere to be, right, Tommy?”

“Me? Nah,” Tommy removed his gloves. “Not like it’s the season for Christmas shopping or anything like that. Who’s in room 114?”
“It’s the one Wakamoto got for the victim after their breakup. It’s been locked since his death, by all accounts.”
“Should we check that redhead’s room too?” Cindy inquired.
“Kunitz? Yeah, might as well.”
“Who’s Kunitz?”
“Wakamoto’s new playmate,” Kanahele scratched his cheek. “Took up with him just after the fight.”
“Suspect?” Tommy packed his equipment into his duffel bag.
“Kinda. One or the other of them probably did it. They’re each other’s alibis, though,” Rob admitted. “Were in here doing God knows what while the murder was committed.”
“So? they couldn’t be in it together?” Tommy asked. He looked at the two detectives.

Cindy leaned against the door. “They’d sort of have to be, if everything happened the way Kunitz said. If we’ve determined that the murder wasn’t committed in this room, then if Kunitz’ timing holds there’s a problem. There’s just not enough time for either of them to do it in those short windows where one was out of the other’s sight. Not anywhere but here.”
“Hn. They did have a few minutes. We should canvas any place that’s within 5 minutes walk of this room that Wakamoto or Kunitz could have had access to,” Kanahele stated. “Somewhere one could have done the deed or at least stashed a body while waiting for the other guy to fall asleep, and then get it from there to bring it outside.”
“That’s a lot of carrying a dead body,” Henderson stated. “You’d leave some kind of trail. And what, down the elevators? Stairs? From the 8th floor?”
Kanahele had a long grunt. “Not the greatest idea, I know.”

“I mean,” Henderson mused, “maybe if they had worked together…” He gave a rakish smile, championing his idea.
Rob shook his head. “Why would they? They barely knew each other.”
“Maybe Wakamoto’s lying,” Cindy suggested, getting on Tommy’s bandwagon. “You know, just acting the all offended, respectable type. Or, hey, maybe they’re both lying – maybe they’ve been lovers for longer than they’re letting on, and arranged this trip to get rid of the boyfriend, so they could be together. What do you think?”

Kanahele carefully picked up the metal case in which he had stored Wakamoto’s laptop.
“It’s possible, I guess,” he shrugged. “Unlikely, though. Kunitz is a crook. What it looks like to me is that he makes his livelihood sucking impressionable tourist sugar daddies dry.” He winced. Pun not intended. “No, I don’t think they knew each other before coming here. But,” he admitted, “it’s an interesting idea. Keep it in mind,” he nodded appreciatively to Cindy. “Snoop around, see if you can back it up with anything. But,” he shook his head, “unless your theory’s right, them working together doesn’t ring true to me. It makes sense, to you, to conspire to kill your ex-boyfriend with someone who’s fleecing you of your money?”

Cindy looked at him.
“Who says Wakamoto knows he’s being fleeced?”

***

“You knew?”
“I didn’t rise to where I am in business by not noticing where my money goes.”

Wakamoto slowly swirled the ice cubes in his scotch, slouched in the armchair in Adam’s hotel room. The redhead fidgeted nearby.

Wakamoto sipped.
“I don’t care whether or not you have feelings for me, Adam.”
“But I do,” Adam sat down on the bed near Ken, and looked up, blue eyes troubled.
Ken chuckled. “Sexual feelings do not count.”
“They do, though,” Adam frowned. “I mean -” he looked away. “…I’ll give you back what I took, if you ask me to.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Adam looked at him again. “Because – I don’t know why, Ken. I like you. You’re… different.”

Wakamoto had a hearty laugh.
“Oh!” He exclaimed. “I’m different. Oh Adam,” Ken smiled and tapped Adam’s cheek with an open palm, softly. “You’re hustling me, you young charmer. I know a confidence artist when I see one. Do you have formal theatrical training, or is it all improvised?”
“Dammit!” Adam wrenched himself away from him, stalking across the carpet angrily. “I’m not conning you! Not any more. I really do like you. Fuck,” Adam’s hands raked through his red hair, “I’ve done this to myself, haven’t I. I’m the boy who fucking cried wolf. No one’s ever gonna believe me about anything anymore.” He glanced at Wakamoto, flushed.

“Quite a performance,” Ken smiled. It was a warm smile. “Adam…”
He stood, and put down his drink. He walked over to him softly, and put his hands on his shoulders. “I don’t care, Adam. Do you understand that? I don’t believe a word that comes out of your talented little mouth, but it makes no difference to me. So you use me for my money. You think that’s something new to me? At least you’re more open about it than Kazuma was. He would have flown into a rage if anyone had implied he was a confidence man, of course,” he mused… “But he was no different than you.”

Wakamoto looked down into Adam’s eyes, searchingly.
“You’re more honest with yourself than he ever was, even if you lie to everyone else. Kazuma… Kazuma lied to himself while spewing uncareful truths to anyone who would listen.”

Adam returned Ken’s gaze, for a long time. Then, he sighed.
“You really loved him,” he said.

Ken nodded, turning away and going back to his armchair. “Yes.” He picked up his drink.
“Did you kill him?”

Adam looked at him evenly.
Ken met his eyes.

After half a minute, Ken looked away.

“No. I didn’t kill him.”
He heaved a sigh.
“Did you?”

Adam had a weak smile, and walked over to sit on the bed again.
“No.”

Ken nodded, once.

“Well someone did.” He looked up, introspectively. “And I want to know who. And why.”

- TO BE CONCLUDED -