Poe's First Law: A Murder on Maui Mystery

enemy number one. I always thought it came from a place of insecurity.”
“Josh was always such a nice guy. What the hell happened?”
“Give someone a little power and their true personality emerges.”
“I can’t believe I allowed myself to get that heated. I wanted to punch him. No one locks up my husband but me,” she said.
I waited for her to laugh. She didn’t.
“No one locks up your husband but you? Are you referencing some type of bedroom bondage act I don’t know about?” I asked.
“No, I have no idea what I meant by that.”
“Ah, now it makes sense.”
“It does? I’d appreciate it if you’d enlighten me.”
“I expect you were yelling more at your father than you were at Detective Parrish. You have a lot of feelings bottled up,” I said.
“No, you’re wrong. I was yelling at them both. They’re both jerks.”
“Well then, I guess my diagnosis was incorrect.”
“Not completely.”
“Any idea what damning evidence Detective Parrish has on Mele Akamu and Samson?”
“I made some inquiries after Mara’s call. Apparently, Josh found an eyewitness to the murder. I don’t know who it is.”
Mele Akamu’s arrest certainly wasn’t a surprise, but I hadn’t seen it coming so quickly.
“No comment?” Alana asked.
“Sorry, just processing.”
“Looks like your work for her is over. I doubt she’ll be able to get herself out of this one.”
“She made some compelling points when I spoke with her this morning,” I said, and I told Alana about Mele Akamu’s argument that she’d never be so dumb as to bury the body on the island.
“She really gave you that hypothetical argument about dumping a man’s body at sea?” Alana asked.
“Yes, but she didn’t need to. I’d already thought of that idea before, especially since people have tried to get rid of me that same way.”
“Poe, you’re missing the point. I think she just admitted to committing a murder.”
“It’s nothing that would hold up, especially without a body.”
“I know that, but she still must trust you to tell you that story.”
“Trust me? No. She lied to me about her butler from the start. She told me he didn’t lay a hand on Eric Ellis and then I found photographic proof that he did.”
“Okay, but why is she trying so hard to convince you that she didn’t have Eric Ellis killed? She doesn’t need you to come up with other suspects. She and her lawyer can name anyone they want.”
“We need to find out who that eyewitness is,” I said.
“I’ll work on it when I get back to the office.”
“Why am I back to thinking Mele Akamu might not have done it?”
“Forget what I told you earlier when I said your work for her is done. It sounds like it’s just getting started.”
“Is there any way you can get me the name of the guy who found Eric Ellis’ body?” I asked.
“Ordinarily I would tell you to go through Josh out of respect to him, but not now. I’ll have the name by the end of the day.”
A pissed-off Detective Alana Hu can be a powerful ally. Detective Parrish, for whatever his reason, had made a bad play.
We were silent for the rest of the drive. Alana was probably consumed with thoughts on her father. Me? I kept flip-flopping on whether or not I thought Mele Akamu was guilty.
By the time we arrived at her house, I decided the only way to know for sure was to continue with my investigation. Was I worried that Detective Parrish would arrest me again? No, I wasn’t. I thought my intimidating spouse had put an end to that threat. I made a mental note to buy Alana flowers on the way home. After all, one must show appreciation for anyone who keeps them out of jail.
I thanked Alana for the drive, and we agreed to regroup later in the day. I retrieved my car, selected a playlist of songs by the legendary jazz musician, Charlie Parker, and pointed the little BMW in the direction of Kaanapali and the safe confines of my home. I’d only been driving a few minutes, though, when I decided to make a quick detour to Guy Livingston’s abode.
My brief moment under arrest made me think of him. I’d promised to look into his case, and never let it be said that Poe isn’t a man of his word. I found his Kihei-based home easily enough. He wasn’t kidding when he’d said it was small. That’s not a judgment on my part, rather a description of what his place looked like. The tiny home was jammed between two others that didn’t look much bigger.
I parked my roadster in front of his house. As I walked to his front door, I saw a blonde-haired teenaged girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, washing a Toyota pickup truck in her driveway. There was a surfboard leaning against the garage door a few feet away.
“Nice board,” I said.
“Do you surf?”
I laughed.
“I’ve managed to stand up a few times, but I don’t think you can call that surfing. My wife on the other hand…”
“I’d ask if you were with the police, but you’re not dressed like them,” she said.
“No, I’m not. I imagine you’ve seen a lot of cops coming by lately. How well did you know the Livingstons?”
“I spoke to Mrs. Livingston from time to time, but I didn’t know her well.”
“What about Guy Livingston?” I asked.
“He seemed nice, but we didn’t really say much.”
“Any chance you saw anyone go into their house other than them?”
“The cops asked me that after Mrs. Livingston was killed. I never saw anyone over there but them.”
“Were you at home when she was killed? Did you hear the gunshots?”
“No, I was at work. My parents own a surfing school.”
“You teach tourists how to surf?”
“Try to. It doesn’t usually work.”
“Well, hopefully the tips are good,” I said.
“Sometimes yes, sometimes no.”
“Thanks for your help. I’m Poe by the way.”
“I’m Kari.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Kari.”
I excused myself and continued to the house. I punched the four-digit security code into the keypad on the front