Sophie pointed to the plumeria, its creamy color stark against the purple-black of congealed blood.“Where was this flower originally?”
“On the body.”
Feirn’s sharp intake of breath was almost inaudible.He touched Sophie’s arm and hissed in Thai.“The flower placement is wrong.Should be offering to spirits, not decoration for the dead.”
“What’s your boy saying?”Multon had noticed the exchange, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Sophie chose her words carefully.“There were plumeria left behind at the other theft scenes.”She gestured to the empty display cases around the room where interior lights illuminated black velvet backgrounds impressed with the items they’d held.“It’s significant that it was touching the body.”
“An apology?”Marcella said, crouching beside the blood pool and photographing it with her phone.
“Sending some kind of message,” Sophie said.She skirted the area, studying the violated display cases.The precision of the glass cutting was surgical, perfect, as it had been elsewhere.
Feirn moved to the windows, examining locks with gloved fingers that barely seemed to touch the glass.He caught Sophie’s eye and shook his head—no breach there.
“Detective, tell us about the security system,” Sophie said.
“No video.Just a burglar alarm on the outside of the house.The wife said it was turned on once they went to bed.It was disabled from inside near the front door,” Multon said.“Security company says someone used Akamu’s personal code.”
“Akamu let them in?”Marcella’s head snapped up.
“Or they made him give up the code,” Multon said.“But there were no signs of torture or other injury on the body, just the cause of death, which was obvious.The medical examiner is still working on the victim, but we guessed the time of death to be pretty close to when the alarm was deactivated.”Multon indicated a small box with pushbuttons near the entry; a time flashed above the display.“This is a junction box connected to the main one.We think they came in through the front, turned off the alarm there, then came here.”
Marcella approached the alarm box and frowned as she noted the time.“This is too near when the other place was hit to have been the same doers,” Marcella told Sophie.“They must have two teams working.”
“That explains how they were able to hit so many places on Oahu in the same time frame,” Sophie agreed.She took her tablet out of her backpack to make a note in her case file and take some photos, then studied the room’s geography.
Akamu’s teak desk faced the door, positioned so he could survey his treasures while working.The leather chair behind it was askew, as if he’d risen quickly.She could picture it—the collector working late, maybe admiring his acquisitions, when death walked through his door.
“He might have seen his killer’s face,” she said.“Maybe that’s why they killed him.”
“The thieves in the other burglaries kept their faces covered,” Marcella said.“Probably because they knew they’d be videoed.”
“As I said, Akamu’s security wasn’t that fancy,” Multon said.“No video.”
“And they seem to know a lot about the security at every place they’ve been.So they might have known that,” Sophie said.
“Tell me about thelei hulu,” Marcella said.“That’s the item that triggered a connection to our other thefts.”
“As you can see from the cases, they cleaned out his collection.But that was his prize piece.”Multon pulled out his phone, swiping to a photo that made Sophie’s breath catch when she viewed it.The featherleiglowed like captured sunlight; thousands of golden?o?ofeathers woven into a collar that would have graced a king’s shoulders.
“Kamehameha dynasty piece,” Multon said.“Akamu bought it from a dealer in Kyoto three years back.Caused bigpilikia—Native Hawaiian groups wanted it returned for proper museum display.”
“Instead it ended up locked in this room,” Sophie murmured.She thought of the artifact’s journey—fromali’iwarriors to Japanese dealers to a tech millionaire’s private hoard—then stolen by fanatics.
“Detective,” Marcella said, “I need every record connected to Akamu’s collection.Receipts, authentication documents, correspondence?—”
“Already bagged,” Multon cut her off, pride evident.“We know how to work a scene.”
“We’re also looking for a common thread between this and the other burglaries.Someone in common who could be leaking information to the thieves.So we need to know, as much as possible, everyone who was familiar with the contents of the collection.”
“For that, you’ll have to talk to the wife,” Multon said.“She was too hysterical to interview earlier.”
“Does ‘the wife’ have a name?”Marcella’s voice was clipped; she was offended at Multon’s attitude.“And I spotted a trike on the way in.Do they have children?”
“Two grown kids off-island, one young grandkid who visits.Wife’s name is Sandra Akamu.I’ll punt you her contact info.”Multon took a minute with his phone to forward something to Marcella.“She told us he had a computerized catalog of his items on his laptop.Their provenance and whatnot.”He gestured to the desk where the computer lay closed.“It’s password-protected and the wife didn’t have access to it.”
“I’d like to have a look at that,” Sophie said.“The password won’t be a problem.”
