Unknown Victim by Kay Hadashi (top 10 books of all time txt) 📗

“Who’s Felix?” Detective Kona asked.

“The foreman for my work crew.”

“You hired him?”

She shook her head. “The Tanizawas did before I got here. He assembled the rest of the crew.”

“And the second day?” Detective Kona asked.

“The roofer found him and kicked him out.”

Kona made a point of looking up at the roof before jotting a few more notes. “What’s the roofer’s name?”

“Come to think of it, I don’t know. Just some old Japanese guy the Tanizawas sent.”

“He spoke Japanese to you?”

“No, English. Sort of. He never had much to say.”

“How do you know he was Japanese?”

“Look, for some reason I figured him to be Japanese. I can tell you all about Italians, but I don’t know much about Asians. I wouldn’t know Japanese from Chinese, or anything else, if someone spoke it to me.”

“You’re Italian?”

“Right. But American.”

“Isn’t Santoro a Spanish name?” he asked.

“Yes, but my father’s family was from Italy. Somewhere along the way, one of them left Spain to go to Italy. A few generations later, they came to America and brought the name with them. Maybe they had space in a suitcase.”

“For the name?” he asked.

“It’s funny when my dad says it.” She watched as he made copious notes of what she was telling him about her family name. “Look, my family tree is complicated, okay?”

“Wait till you meet a few local Hawaii people,” he said. “Yesterday when you found him, did he say anything to you before he left?”

“No. He just said he was sorry and wandered off in the direction of the bridge.”

“Was he in a hurry?” he asked.

“No. He seemed reluctant to go.”

“What was he sorry about?”

“He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. He just seemed sad, or at least remorseful about something.”

“Sad enough to kill himself?”

“You think he did?” she asked.

“I have to look at all the angles.”

“I’m not a good enough psychologist to know if he might’ve killed himself,” she said. “That Officer Iosefa said he might’ve died from an allergic reaction to a spider bite.”

“Officer Iosefa is a patrol officer in good standing with HPD, not a medical examiner. I’ll remind him of that later.” Detective Kona jotted a few notes. “The man just got up, said he was sorry, and walked away when you woke him?”

“Pretty much. He moved pretty slow, like he wanted to sleep off a bender, but he didn’t give me any trouble.”

“Didn’t ask for money or a meal?”

Gina shook her head. “Nothing. I never saw him again, until this morning. You know the rest.”

“He never told you his name?”

Gina shook her head. “Never asked mine, either. Just apologized for sleeping on the porch and walked away.”

“That’s not very satisfying, Miss Santoro.”

“Not to me, either. When can I get my gardens back?”

“I still have a few more questions. First, what’s your job here again?”

Gina was finding out what it was like to be interviewed, only from the opposite side of the law. Giving a witness statement really was repetitious, and she could see why so many witnesses clammed up after a while.

“I have a certificate in landscape horticulture and I’ve been looking for a good job since graduating from the program last summer. Just on a whim, I sent the Tanizawas my resume when I saw their ad online. I don’t know why, maybe because I was willing to work cheaper than everyone else, or if they were simply desperate, but they hired me. A week later, I climbed on a plane. Here I am.”

Detective Kona made a show of scanning the grounds of the estate. “The old place has gone wild. What’re they expecting you to do with it?”

“They want to return it to the way it looked back in the good old days, whenever those were. All I have to go on are a few black and white photographs and a map drawn by Millie Tanizawa, my contact with the family. Otherwise, I have no idea what they’re expecting and they’re not telling me much. All I know is that I have a year to accomplish it. Then they’ll open it to the public as a display botanical garden and historical estate.”

“You don’t know the history of this place?” he asked.

“Only that it was the Tanizawa estate.”

“Talk your way into the university library to learn some more about it. Or maybe take a tour of the Japanese Cultural Center.”

“I have no idea where anything is. I doubt I could even find the ocean.”

He pointed in the direction of the stream. “The university is right across the street. You can’t miss it.”

“And the cultural center?”

“It’s not far from here. You could walk to it. Just turn left on East-West Road, then right on Dole Street, then left on University, then right on Beretania.”

“Is that to the cultural center or to the ocean?”

“Cultural center.”

“How do I get to the ocean? I saw it in the distance one day, but I haven’t been there yet,” she said.

“It’s an island.” Detective Kona kept writing. “Walk downhill till your feet get wet.”

“Maybe I should get a map.”

“Might be a good idea.” One of the CSI techs came to Detective Kona and handed over a preliminary report. With that, he sent Iosefa and his partner back on patrol. Then he made a call to the coroner to request a body collection. Done with those tasks, he looked at Gina again.

She clasped her hands in front of her in a begging gesture. “Please can I have my gardens now? Time is money and I’m kinda wasting both on the first day of work.”

“Okay, you can have everything beyond the bridge. Once the coroner has picked up the body, you can have the grounds, but not the porch or the house. My CSI techs will be working for a while.”

“What about inside the house? My guys will need to use the bathroom at some point, and one of them is supposed to make lunch.”

“Is there a back door?” Kona asked.

Gina nodded. “It goes right into the kitchen.”

“Once I check