Murders of Conveyance Read online

  MURDERS OF CONVEYANCE

  ISBN: 978-1-932926-72-9 (hardcover)

  ISBN: 978-1-932926-73-6 (ebook)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018961605

  Copyright © 2019 by Jeanne Burrows-Johnson

  Cover Illustration and Design: Yasamine June

  (www.yasaminejune.com)

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without written permission of the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  Artemesia Publishing, LLC

  9 Mockingbird Hill Rd

  Tijeras, New Mexico 87059

  [email protected]

  www.apbooks.net

  Murders of Conveyance

  By

  Jeanne Burrows-Johnson

  A Natalie Seachrist Hawaiian Mystery

  Artemesia Publishing

  Albuquerque, New Mexico

  Conveyance…The transference of property from one owner to another…

  To Kevin Charles Horstman PhD, who loved and honored

  family, friends, and the earth that brings Life to all!

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Stan Carrington: Former colleague of Keoni Hewitt

  Jason Chin: Honolulu radio personality

  Veronica Ching: Restaurateur

  Jesse & Jimmy Comacho: Murder victims; cousins

  Leah Coombs: Fiancée of Bō Shēn

  Esmeralda [Izzy] Cruz: Neighbor of Natalie Seachrist

  John [JD] Dias: Lieutenant, Honolulu Police Department

  Akira Duncan: Master Chef; owner of a restaurant and culinary school

  James Durham: Honolulu Architect

  Maria Espinoza: Tenant, Makiki Sunset Apartments

  Bertram Fong: Owner of a Chinatown bookstore

  Brianna Harriman: Granddaughter of Nathan Harriman; twin of Ariel Harriman who is deceased

  Nathan Harriman: Twin brother of Natalie Seachrist; psychologist

  Keoni Hewitt: Boyfriend of Natalie Seachrist; retired homicide detective

  Alena Horita: Uniformed officer, Honolulu Police Department

  Chu-Hua Lee: Amah of Pearl and Jade Wong

  Harry Longhorn: Publisher and Chief Editor of Winward O`ahu Journeys Magazine

  Cory Lowell: Son of a tenant, Makiki Sunset Apartments

  Lori Mitchum: Intern at the State of Hawai`i Coroner’s Office

  Dan and Margie O’Hara: Friends of Natalie Seachrist

  Makoa Pane: Contractor and furniture craftsman

  Miss Una: Feline companion of Natalie Seachrist

  Alec Salinas: Retired police detective; hotel security manager

  Natalie Seachrist: Semi-retired journalist

  Bàozhĭ Shēn: Granduncle of Bō Shēn; murder victim in 1953

  Bō Shēn: Chinatown businessman

  Chāng Shēn: Grandfather of Bō Shēn; now deceased

  Toitoi Naiporo Shēn: Grandaunt of Bō Shēn; widow of Bàozhĭ Shēn

  Martin Soli: Assistant Coroner, State of Hawai`i

  Evelyn and Jim Souza: Nathan Harriman’s neighbors

  Linda Tan: Contestant, Aloha Scavenger Hunt

  Samantha Turner: Neighbor of Natalie Seachrist

  José Valdez: Assistant to James Durham

  Joanne Walther: Neighbor of Natalie Seachrist

  Pearl Wong: Co-owner and manager of the Makiki Sunset Apartments

  Brian Yamaguchi: Boyfriend of Toitoi Shēn

  Fù Hán Zhāng: Murder victim; Chinese linguist

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  EPILOGUE

  NOTES AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A BRIEF OVERVIEW OF THE HAWAIIAN LANGUAGE

  GLOSSARY OF NON-ENGLISH & SPECIALIZED VOCABULARY

  Questions for Book Club Discussion

  PROLOGUE

  I met murder on the way.

  Percy Bysshe Shelley [1792 - 1822]

  I look around at the metal cage surrounding me. Below my sandaled feet are scuffed tiles framing a Chinese logogram. With heavy vibration, the vintage elevator stops. The gate opens by an unseen hand and I walk out to the black and white scene of a film noir.

  I face three sash windows, the center one being wider than those flanking it. Above them, is the beginning of three clerestory windows reaching toward the roofline. My view to the world beyond is dimmed by sheer curtains. I look down at a patterned carpet runner on a dark wood floor.

  I am presented with an immediate choice. Which way shall I turn? With little hesitation, I move to the right and soon reach the end of the short hallway. I then turn to the left and stop as though halted by a glass panel. I am looking along a dim corridor lined with several numbered doors. Stretched diagonally across the carpeted floor is the still form of a man. I blink and check to see if this tableau is being observed by anyone other than me. No. I am alone.

  I walk forward slowly until I stand above the man. He is definitely dead. He wears a white suit. Although he is lying on his stomach, I see the collar of an aloha shirt. Two-toned shoes stick out from his pant leg cuffs. Beyond his head, a fedora leans against the base of the wall.

  A few inches to the left of the man’s shoes, the door to room 312 stands ajar. The opening widens. I look within. A woman rises from inspecting the space below a single bed. Turned away from me, she examines each drawer of the room’s dresser, desk, and nightstand. I suddenly find myself positioned directly behind her as she opens the door to a closet with dressing room. She is obviously practiced in her work. After going through the pockets of the few hanging garments on the left, she quickly searches each compartment of a suitcase sitting open on a luggage rack to the right.

  Debating whether she is at the end of her task, she gazes steadily at a large mirror resting against the back wall. The glass is mottled with age and I cannot see her features. She walks to the mirror and pulls it toward her. She looks behind, and then with a disgusted sigh, pushes it back in place. Stepping backward, the woman again looks into the mirror and straightens her tailored skirt and jacket. Other than her dark upswept hair, the only characteristic I note about her is her height, because she is considerably taller than I am.

  I watch numbly as the stately woman strides past me and into the bedroom. I turn to face her retreating figure. Shortly, I hear the elevator clang open and shut.

  CHAPTER 1

  Adventure is worthwhile.

  Aristotle [384 BCE - 322 BCE]

  An unrelenting yowl demanded my attention. I withdrew from my private showing
of the film noir and sat up. “All right, I’m awake. What’s the problem, girlfriend?” I asked my tortoiseshell companion. “I left you with a full bowl of dry food last night and your usual serving of canned. You can’t have finished all of that,” I said, dragging myself up to follow Miss Una to the kitchen. There I noted that every morsel had been licked from both plate and bowl.

  “If you weren’t spayed, I’d suspect you were pregnant.”

  As I laid down a fresh helping of her favorite salmon, she rushed to devour it. After changing her water and setting out her usual supply of dry food to nibble throughout the day, I pleaded for a return to our normal routine. “Now, that should keep you satisfied until tonight when you’re going to have to make do with Izzy’s scrumptious goodies.”

  With an adventure in the offing, I turned to my own needs. I was glad there was just enough coffee syrup to meet my desire for an intake of caffeine, and equally glad that I did not have to share it with my sweetheart Keoni who had spent the night at his home in Mānoa Valley. For Christmas he had given me a French coffee press. I have discovered that the resulting rich extract delivers the smoothest beverage—hot or cold. Since we were in what passes for winter in the Hawaiian Islands, I was ready for the heated variety.

  Soon I was seated at my parents’ old Formica table, where I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of fresh papaya from our neighbor Izzy, and the last piece of cake my grandniece Brianna brought us from the O`hana Hawaiian Café in Portland, Oregon, during her holiday break from college. People may laugh at my savoring an Island treat from the mainland, but Sandie’s desserts are a special treat. She uses freshly roasted macadamia nuts in her pie crusts and on top of some of her cakes!

  I checked my voicemail while sipping a second cup of coffee. The recording announced it was Friday the thirteenth of February—my lucky number. I took that as a sign of good fortune for our participation in the forthcoming First Annual Aloha Scavenger Hunt. Keoni and I would be staying in the heart of Honolulu with friends for the week-long event, so it was good I had no messages—especially from publishers with writing assignments for me.

  Of course, it was possible that the hunt might yield a tale or two worth telling. I could not wait to partake of the lū`au, Chinese New Year feast, and other meals planned for the event. The locales and their taste treats could be good material for my food and entertainment column in Windward O`ahu Journeys magazine!

  Glancing at a memo on the refrigerator, I was reminded of how thoughtful Keoni is—and almost as note-driven as I am. We have been together as a couple for over a year and have developed a routine that nurtures each of us in this new phase of life. We first met when he was a detective with the Honolulu Police Department. We became truly close when I experienced an unexpected tragedy a year and a half ago, shortly after I took early retirement from my career as a journalist and occasional television presenter for an international media corporation.

  I had been enjoying the freedom of selecting my research and writing assignments and was delighted when he asked me to undertake a research project. Tragically, Brianna’s twin sister Ariel was murdered the next day, and I do not know how I would have survived if I had not had his backing. During that experience, we became intimate on many levels. By Thanksgiving, we were a couple. We were living together a couple of months later when my Auntie Carrie died and I inherited White Sands Cottage in Lanikai.

  I knew I should be preparing for our departure, but it felt so nice to savor the moment. I carried my cup of coffee into the living room and sat down on my mother’s old pūne`e. The room had benefited from months of remodeling. The art I had acquired during my world travels and Keoni’s distinctive koa furniture were ideal additions to my aunt’s classic Hawaiian furnishings and paintings.

  After moving to the cottage, we immediately became friends with our neighbors across the fence. The owner of Mokulua Hale was Miriam Didión, a retired human rights activist and psychologist. Her housemates were retired teacher Joanne Walther and Esmerelda [Izzy] Cruz, who had been the housekeeper of Miriam and her husband. When Miriam mentioned needing a live-in housekeeper since Izzy had developed rheumatoid arthritis, my twin brother Nathan offered to locate potential candidates as he is a psychologist and former director of Hale Malolo, a women’s shelter. This was how Samantha Turner, a young woman in a failing marriage became the fourth person to join our neighbor’s household.

  Sadly, tragedy inserted itself into our lives again. Miriam was murdered just as we were adjusting to life in this welcoming beachside community. Dismayed by the dramatic loss of their friend, The Ladies, as we refer to Miriam’s housemates, rallied to support one another. Both Keoni and I have experienced many sorrows in our lives; being together eased our acceptance of this tragedy.

  The benefits of our new surroundings also fortified our adjustments to our new lifestyle. We celebrate the fruits of our years of labor with long soaks in the hot tub and daily walks along the nearby white sands beach. And, at the end of our varied daily activities, we frequently join with The Ladies for potluck meals. The delicious dishes Izzy prepares from the bounty of Joanne’s garden are often paired with the wine and delicatessen treats we provide.

  Despite being nominally retired, Keoni has expanded Hewitt Investigations. Through liaison with a national security firm, he now accepts assignments to analyze security systems for small businesses. He maintains his bungalow in Mānoa for times he needs to meet clients in the evening—or for breaks during a stakeout. My own schedule is quite flexible since I am a free-lance writer. My latest project is a magazine article featuring a gourmet cooking school founded by Akira Duncan, a hapa Japanese-French chef noted for gastronomic delights of the Pacific Rim.

  Inspired by what I learned from the man’s biographical information, and the amazing food Izzy produces, I have decided to broaden my meager culinary abilities. It seems only fair to use the exquisite kitchen Keoni designed and helped construct. So, without letting anyone know my plans, I am going to check out Chef Duncan’s school personally as well as professionally. I have already looked over the curriculum and am thinking of signing up for the course on cooking basics. Aside from tips on food shopping and kitchen organization, it will teach me the proper use of knives. You never know when a girl will need a skill like that.

  The course does not start for a couple of weeks and I have some lead time until the deadline for my article. Therefore, Keoni and I are extending our celebration of St. Valentine’s Day to embrace a full week of fun and romance by competing in the scavenger hunt which coincides with Chinese New Year. The hunt is sponsored by a conglomeration of non-profits aiding women and children, including Hale Malolo. A notable feature of the event is that contestants can designate which member organization will receive a percentage of their entry fees.

  We can participate since Nathan is no longer serving on Hale Malolo’s board. As winners of the early entry prize drawing, Keoni and I will be enjoying a week at the luxurious downtown hotel serving as the hunt’s headquarters. Certain that the hunt would appeal to a variety of people, I emailed the promotional information to friends who have enjoyed holidays with me during my overseas assignments.

  Most were recovering from the rush of the holidays. But Margie and Dan O`Hara immediately replied that they would come. That pleased me specially, since they had last visited the Islands at the time of Keoni’s birthday party and we did not get to socialize after Miriam’s funeral. My friendship with the couple goes back to the short period in which Dan served with my husband Bill in the U.S. Navy. They have remained my lifeline in many ways since Bill’s death from encephalitis during a six-month deployment to the Western Pacific.

  I glanced at the clock and saw that I needed to stop my reminiscing and finish getting ready for our late afternoon departure. I realized I had not given The Ladies a key to the new lock on the back door. They would be watching over the cottage and Miss Una and I wanted to ensure they had everything they
might need. Thankfully, Izzy was home when I called so I dashed through our back gates to deliver a key.

  Although we would be driving against the flow of afternoon traffic, we needed to leave as soon as possible. So, by the time Keoni returned, I had tidied the house, taken out the trash, and shut my single suitcase. I greeted him with a kiss and a glass of strong sun tea with cinnamon, cloves, and orange peel. We chatted briefly while he downed his tea and an energy bar. He then showered, dressed, and completed his packing. As he wrapped a light shawl that had been my Auntie Carrie’s across my shoulders, we looked down at his two suitcases, laptop and briefcase alongside my single suitcase and carryall.

  “You haven’t packed much. Do you have everything you’ll need?”

  “We’re only going for a week, dear. Perhaps your other girlfriends were big on luggage, but with all my years on the road, I’m a minimalist when it comes to travel. One suitcase, a carryall, and one small handbag for evenings on the town. I think that covers it, don’t you?”

  “Well, that philosophy will certainly make international travel easy.”

  “I’m glad you approve, sir. Now let’s hit the road.”

  “Final check: The Ladies have keys to the house, know the security system, and where I keep the keys to my truck?” Keoni asked with a smile.

  “Yes,” I nodded. “Most importantly, they know Miss Una’s routine and where all her food and goodies are. I just hope the supply of food holds out. All of a sudden, that cat has more than doubled her intake,” I noted.

  “I don’t think Izzy would allow anyone to go hungry—certainly not your precious baby.”

  “You’re right about that. And as a second-generation cook-to-order chef, she’s likely to create an entire line of cat cuisine delights while we’re gone,” I added.