Mahu Omnibus, page 132
part #92 of Mahu Series
Ray called dispatch and put out an APB — an all points bulletin — for Dexter Trale, and I tried to calm down, so I wouldn't show my mother how upset I'd been. It was one thing to worry about a witness or a hostage in a dangerous situation — and another thing entirely when it was your own mother.
Between them, my mother and Leelee told us what had happened. "I think he might be on drugs," my mother said to me in a low voice. "He looked crazy."
Dex had ranted and raved, yelling at Leelee, while he had packed up some of his belongings. That's when my mother dialed my number, keeping the phone in her pocket.
"That was very smart, Mom. You've got a cool head in a crisis. Maybe you should have been the cop, not me."
"No, thank you. I nearly fainted when Dexter started waving his gun and yelling at Leelee. She stood up to him, and he hit her in the mouth." She took a couple of deep breaths. "He wanted all the money Leelee had in the house, which wasn't much, and then he took the cash from my wallet."
The anger kept bubbling up inside me, and I struggled to rein it in. Nobody messes with my family — especially not my mother.
"Did you notice what kind of gun it was?" I asked.
"It looked like your father's Glock. But I'm not sure."
My father had raised us all around handguns; his favorite was the Glock 9 millimeter. He had given us each one when we graduated from college. I still kept mine oiled and polished, in case he ever asked to see it. I didn't want to endure a tongue-lashing about the care of firearms. I realized a couple of years into my career that everything I'd learned as a cop was just reinforcement of what my father had taught me. And that goes for a lot more than weapons.
"When he left, he took a rifle with him too," my mother said, balancing the baby on her hip as if he was one of her own grandchildren. "There are some neighbors outside, I'm going to go out and talk to them." She patted Leelee's shoulder. "You'll see, things will be better now."
"Where do you think Dex might have gone?" I asked Leelee.
By then she was calmer, drinking some herb tea. "He say he want money. He say Ezekiel know where there lots from that group, da kine KOH."
"Ezekiel Kapuaiwa?"
"Yeah, he used to drive him places."
The front door opened, and soon the living room was filled with women comforting Leelee and offering her help. It seemed like Leelee's ohana was finally pitching in now that Dex was gone.
A police car was going to sit outside the house, in case Dexter came back, and it was time for Ray and me to get moving.
I walked my mother out to her car. "Dex didn't take your wallet, did he? Or any of your ID?"
She shook her head.
"Good. So he doesn't know who you are or where you live."
She beeped open the door of her car, and I could see in her eyes that she was glad to be going home.
"I don't think we should tell Dad about this," I said, "if his blood pressure's up. But you should stay away from Leelee until we know that Dexter's in custody."
"That poor girl," she said, shaking her head.
"Mom."
"I know, I know. I just hope those women will help her."
"You saw how they were talking. Like you always say, it's ohana."
We drove the few blocks to the house where I'd seen Tanaka drop off Ezekiel, but no one was home. Ray called Maile Kanuha to see if he was with her.
"Ezekiel doesn't carry cash," he said to me, after he hung up. "But she admitted that there's a safe deposit box with some cash in it, though she wouldn't tell me where the cash came from."
"Where's the box?"
"A bank called Hawaiian People's. Apparently there's only one branch."
"I know it. Let's get a car out there."
We started back down the twisting, narrow streets. I drove a lot slower now that my mother was out of danger and no garbage cans or other obstructions jumped in our way. We were about halfway to the Hawaiian People's Bank when dispatch called.
"We have a radio car at Hawaiian People's Bank that reports a truck there matching the description you put out," the dispatcher said.
"On our way. Make sure all units know the suspect is armed and dangerous."
Hawaiian People's
The bank was on Iolani Avenue at the foot of Tantalus, and we were there a few minutes later. When we pulled up in front of the single-story whitewashed building, Jimmy Chang and Kitty Cardozo were directing traffic away from the bank. It was late afternoon, and the sky was the color of a purple bruise behind the looming mass of the mountains.
"Sorry, the bank is temporarily closed," I heard Kitty tell a woman in a pickup.
"I just saw someone come out," the woman argued. "It's only 3:40."
"Please move along, ma'am," Kitty said. Standing there in her uniform, hands on hips, she had a "don't fuck with me" attitude, and the woman, grumbling, continued on past the bank.
I figured about forty-five minutes had passed since Dex left his house for Ezekiel's, giving him enough time to pick Ezekiel up and drive down the hill to the bank.
The SWAT team was assembling again. Yamashita had one hand on the gun in his belt holster and was communicating by headset with someone when Ray and I walked up. He held up his index finger while whoever it was finished talking.
"There's a disturbance in the vault," he said to us. "Apparently there wasn't any cash in that safe deposit box."
"I didn't think Tanaka would give Ezekiel a key to a box full of cash," I said.
Yamashita listened again. "They're coming out." He positioned his sharpshooters around the parking lot. Into his microphone he said, "Suspect about to exit the building with a hostage. Hold fire unless you have a clear shot."
Ezekiel walked out first, with Dex right behind him. "Dexter Trale!" Yamashita's voice boomed through a megaphone. "Put your hands up."
Dex grabbed Ezekiel and held him as a shield. "I've got a gun!" he shouted. He took off at a run, dragging Ezekiel with him.
"That's his truck," I said to Yamashita, pointing to the white pickup a few hundred feet away. I felt impotent standing there — this was my case, and I couldn't do anything more than watch the SWAT team and see how things would play out.
"Take out the white truck," Yamashita said into his headset.
Almost immediately, a series of shots rang out. I looked at the truck and saw the tires on the side facing us start to deflate.
Dex made it to the truck, though, using its body as a shield. As he ducked in, Ezekiel pulled away from him. Instead of running away, though, Ezekiel remained at the side of the truck, peering in the window. We couldn't see what Dex was doing.
"He took a rifle with him when he left the house," I said to Yamashita, as the barrel of the rifle poked out the driver's side, Dex staying low.
Ray and I both had our hands on our guns, though at such long range neither of us would have a decent shot. It was instinct, I guess.
"Why doesn't Ezekiel get out of there?" Ray asked. "Is he that stupid?"
"According to all reports."
Dex fired the rifle and a blast shattered the window of Jimmy Chang's police cruiser.
"Does anybody have a shot?" Yamashita asked, the frustration evident in his voice.
Jimmy Chang was at the front door of the bank, keeping the patrons from spilling out onto the sidewalk. There were SWAT officers poised behind vehicles and one on the roof of the bank.
A couple of EMTs from the fire station down the street were on hand in case there were injuries.
Kitty Cardozo was in the middle of Iolani Avenue, yelling at people on the street to get down and motioning cars to move away. It looked like she was so busy doing her job that she didn't realize that she was right in the line of fire. But she was a rookie, after all; this was probably the first real police action she'd been involved with.
I didn't want to call attention to her by yelling her name, and I didn't have her cell phone number. But I knew someone who did: her stepfather.
I pulled out my cell and pressed the speed dial for Lieutenant Sampson. When he answered I said, "Call Kitty right now and tell her to get out of the street." One thing I love about working for Jim Sampson is that he has the innate ability to react in a crisis. He disconnected from my call, and I slapped my phone shut. Then I watched.
I could hear sirens of other patrol cars approaching. I figured Dex could, too, because he took out the windshield of a Lexus parked close to the street entrance. I watched as Kitty reached down to her belt and picked up her cell phone. She scanned the display, then popped the phone open.
She stood there frozen. It was clear that Sampson had gotten through to her — but she didn't know what to do. I couldn't blame her; most cops don't get into serious trouble while they're still in the FTEP. The point of the training program is to get them some street knowledge under the supervision of a seasoned officer.
Unfortunately, Jimmy Chang was too far from her to get her out of the way.
Dex kept shooting, blasting at cars passing by on the street.
Suddenly I saw Kitty grab her upper arm and fall to the ground on the median strip. A few feet from her, there was a hibiscus hedge that could shelter her from further fire — if she could get there. But she wasn't moving.
"Shit. I've got to get her out of the way," I said to Ray. "Sampson will kill us both if anything happens to her."
Ray pulled his Glock and assumed a shooting stance, focused on Dex in the truck. "I'll cover you."
"What the fuck are you doing?" Yamashita yelled, as I took off across the open parking lot.
I heard Ray start shooting toward Dex, hoping to distract him. I sprinted as fast as I could, pumping my arms. I reached Kitty, lying on the grass clutching her arm, with her face turned toward me, her mouth open in surprise. I grabbed her under the arms and dragged her behind the hibiscus. I collapsed on the ground beside her, one of the bright red blossoms in my face.
The air was filled with the sound of gunfire, but I couldn't tell if it was aimed at us or just distracting Dex. I was panting and my heart was racing. I felt sweat beginning to drip down my forehead.
Kitty began crying, and I put my arm around her. "It's okay," I said. "We're okay." The hedge didn't provide us with much shelter, and if Dex wanted, he could get a direct bead on us through the shrubbery. But I didn't want Kitty to know that.
"I froze," she said. "Jim told me to get out of the way, and when I realized how vulnerable I was, I just couldn't move."
Her whole body shook with sobs. "Today was my last day in the FTEP. But I froze. How can I be a cop if I can't handle the pressure?"
She was clutching her upper left arm, and I could see blood seeping out between her fingers. "Remind me sometime, and I'll tell you a few of the stupid things I did when I was on patrol," I said, unbuttoning my aloha shirt. I pulled it off and made a rough tourniquet for her arm. "Right now, though, you've got to pull together. All right? I know you can do that, Kitty."
She looked at me. "You're right," she said, wiping her hand across her eyes. "I can do that. What should I do?"
Kitty's phone buzzed. "For starters, answer the phone, and tell your dad you're okay."
She started to cry again. I took the phone from her and popped it open. Sampson was not only my boss, but also a man I respected. He had taken a chance on me when no one else in the department would, and I owed him. I couldn't help feeling that I had disappointed him by letting Kitty get hurt. Yeah, he was a cop, and so was she. Both of them knew the risks of the job. But Kitty was more to me than just my boss's stepdaughter; she was a friend, a mentee, another gay person traveling the same road I was.
I took a deep breath. "I'm with Kitty," I said into the phone. "She took a hit to her upper arm, but we've controlled the bleeding. As soon as the shooter is contained we'll get her medical attention."
"I'm on my way," Sampson said and disconnected the call.
I snapped the phone shut and handed it back to Kitty, then looked over at Dex's pickup. From the street angle, I could see the passenger side.
"Jesus, Ezekiel, what the fuck are you still doing there?" I muttered, watching him staring into the passenger window like he was at the aquarium watching the sharks.
Then he opened the door and reached in.
My phone had stayed clamped to my belt through my run and dive. It buzzed, and I flipped it open. "Can you see what's going on?" Ray asked.
"Ezekiel's grabbing for something in the truck."
"The rifle's pulled back inside," Ray said. "What the fuck is going on?"
"He's got Dex's foot. He's pulling him out of the truck."
I heard Ray relaying the news to Yamashita. "Jesus, the guy's an idiot," I said. Ezekiel kept backing up, dragging on Dex's leg, as Dex kicked at him. Two of the SWAT cops rushed toward the truck.
Dex was too close to Ezekiel to turn the rifle on him, but he had his Glock, too. If he got hold of it he could shoot Ezekiel and the SWAT cops. But the cops converged on the truck before Dex could get a shot off. One of them pushed Ezekiel out of the way as the other grabbed Dex. Within seconds, they had Dex on the ground in handcuffs.
A pair of beat officers helped me and Kitty up. The cool breeze felt good on my bare skin, though I was a little embarrassed to be walking around a crime scene without a shirt.
Other cops surrounded Dex, and still others converged on the front door of the bank to help Jimmy control the crowd from the inside. The whole area around the bank was blocked with cars and flashing blue lights.
"Come on, let's get you fixed up," I said to Kitty, leading her toward the fire truck where the EMTs waited. "Can you walk okay?"
"I'm good." She put a hand on my arm. "Thanks, Kimo. For everything."
"You're going to make a great cop, Kitty."
I led her to the wagon, where one of the EMTs pulled off my bloody shirt and began cleaning her wound. The other guy looked at me and said, "You look familiar. Aren't you Mike Riccardi's partner?"
My mouth opened, but I didn't say anything. Mike had always been so careful at work — how did this guy know he was gay?
Would I be outing him by saying anything? Then I caught a look at the guy's face, and I knew it was okay.
"Yeah." I shook his hand. "I'm Kimo."
"Nice to meet you. You and Mike are doing good things for all of us." He reached back into the wagon and handed me T-shirt with the Honolulu Fire Department logo on the front and the saying "Firemen do it with big hoses" on the back.
I pulled it on as Lieutenant Sampson rolled up, the blue light on his car blazing in the bright sun. I could see him holding back, though, walking, not running, toward us.
"Everything under control here?" he asked us.
"The scene has been secured, sir," Kitty said to him. She had a bruise on her cheek and some smudges of dirt on her uniform, but otherwise, she looked just like she was — a good cop, who'd gone through her first trial by fire.
"You joining the Fire Department, Kimo?" Sampson asked me, half smiling.
"Detective Kanapa'aka used his shirt as a tourniquet," Kitty said. "I'll owe you a shirt, Kimo."
"I'll give you a tip, Kitty. Mix a little laundry soap with some hydrogen peroxide and blot the blood before washing," I said. "This won't be the last time you get blood on your clothes."
I left Kitty and Sampson at the EMT wagon and walked over to Ray. The SWAT guys had Dex in cuffs, and Ray and I arranged to have a pair of uniforms deliver him to a holding cell at headquarters while we conducted interviews at the bank. I was glad that the incident had been resolved without anyone else getting killed, but I knew that our work wasn't over yet. We still had to nail Dex for the three murders, using evidence that would hold up in court. That wasn't going to be a slam dunk.
Too Bad He Was Crazy
Sampson took Kitty to Queen's Medical Center to get her arm checked out, and I called Mike and let him know I was going to be home late. It was after six by the time Ray and I set up at the manager's desk inside the bank and began taking statements from customers and employees.
Outside, a couple of uniforms managed the traffic on Iolani Street. The SWAT team cleared up, including having the damaged cruiser and Lexus towed away. Ryan Kainoa and another evidence tech showed up to collect the bullets and casings, in case we needed proof of who shot where and when.
Our next-to-last statement came from the manager, a sallow-faced Indian named Pradeep Singh. "Mr. Kapuaiwa is one of the registered signers on a box rented by his organization, the Kingdom of Hawai'i. He had his key with him, so I had him sign our log, and I opened the vault for him."
"Did you recognize the man with him?" Ray asked.
Singh shook his head. "But Mr. Kapuaiwa always has someone with him when he comes to the bank. As I understand it, he doesn't drive."
"As you've probably heard, the man with Mr. Kapuaiwa was Dexter Trale, who is under suspicion for numerous crimes. Did Mr. Kapuaiwa appear to be under any pressure from Mr. Trale?" I asked.
"It is not really my business to pay attention to such things," Singh said. "I opened the vault and used my key to unlock the box, after Mr. Kapuaiwa had inserted his. Then I returned here, to my desk."
"And what happened next?" Ray asked.
"This Mr. Trale began yelling," Singh said. "Things like, 'where's the money?' He was very loud, and I got up to ask him to be more quiet. When I reached the door to the vault I saw that he had a handgun, and I backed away before he saw me."
He took a breath, and his teeth chattered a little. "I was very frightened, but I came back to my desk and pressed the emergency alert, just as I have been trained and according to bank policy. I notified the tellers and the other bank officers, and we were beginning to escort the customers from the lobby when Mr. Kapuaiwa and Mr. Trale came out of the vault." Singh's breath was coming in short bursts, and I worried that he might have some kind of attack.
He pulled an inhaler out of his jacket pocket and used it, then relaxed. "I'm sorry," he said, between pants. "I have asthma."
"Take your time," I said.
"Mr. Trale began waving his gun and yelling. We were all very frightened. But Mr. Kapuaiwa spoke to him, and then suddenly Mr. Trale took his arm and yanked him toward the front door. That is when I looked outside and saw the police."
