Chapter One: The Scream
Hua smiled as she looked up at her husband, Fai Chu. She could hardly believe that she was married and in Hawaii for her honeymoon. Things were perfect as the two lovers walked along a winding path past bright and beautiful flowers that filled the air with a sweet scent. Hua was so happy that, when they asked the man at the hotel desk about getting out of the city and away from the crowds, he had suggested coming to Waimea Valley. The trails and the waterfalls were lovely and a walk through the botanical gardens was a wonderful way to start their day.
Hua stopped and bent down when a vibrant purple flower caught her eye. "I wonder what this is."
"I don't know," Fai said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "But it is beautiful."
The gentle and caring touch of her husband made Hua want to kiss him. But as she rose up on her tiptoes, she heard a loud rustling from a nearby bush. Concerned, she jerked her head toward the sound. "What was that?"
Fai shrugged. "Probably just a gardener. A place like this must have dozens to keep everything looking so nice."
Hua knew that her husband was most likely right, but that didn't stop the feeling of unease from filling her with dread. Something wasn't right. Suddenly, a loud high-pitched scream filled the air. Her husband bolted, running as fast as he could down the path. She followed only a few steps behind.
As she turned the corner, Hua bumped into the frozen form of her husband, who was staring in shock at the scene before him. An easel had been knocked to the ground, paint was splattered everywhere and, in the middle of it all, was the body of a young man who was unmistakably dead.
Steve McGarrett stepped carefully around the body to avoid the fallen paint. The scene was disturbing. A young man had been strangled with a garrote that the killer had left at the scene. Scattered around him were an overturned easel, the ruined painting, and a broken paintbrush sticking out from under the victim's body. It was an explosion of chaos and color in the midst of the picturesque environment that surrounded them. It was not hard to see why the young man had picked this location to work on his art.
Knowing that Doc Bergman would have his head if he touched the body before he arrived, Steve stepped back and tried to imagine the scene in his mind.
He could tell from the angles of the easel, body and stool where the victim had been working when he died. He had faced his painting, probably still seated - Doc would be able to clarify that last point. So he had been focused on his work. That meant that either the killer had sneaked up behind him or he had known his killer.
No, this man is a professional artist. He's not going to allow anyone to come this close to his work without knowing that he can trust him or her.
The victim knew his killer. Steve was certain of that. He dabbled in painting himself and he knew all too well the feeling of unease that occurred whenever a stranger tried to approach him when he was painting. You were hyper aware of your surroundings for a threat to your art. For a professional, that feeling of unease would be magnified. He highly doubted that someone could have sneaked up on this man. and that the artist wouldn't have turned around if he hadn't trusted his killer.
Satisfied with his initial findings from the scene, Steve walked over to where the young couple who had discovered the body were waiting. Hopefully, he would continue to discover useful information."I'm Steve McGarrett; I was told you found the body."
"Yes," the man said. "I'm Fai Chu and this is my wife, Hua. We were walking along that path when my wife thought she heard someone moving in the bushes. Then we both heard a woman scream. I just ran down the path. I thought she was in trouble. I never thought I'd find..." Mr. Chu shuddered as he glanced over at the body.
"And you are certain that it was a woman screaming?"
"Yes," Mrs. Chu said. "The voice was very high pitched."
"And where did you hear someone in the bush?"
"Over there," she replied, pointing her finger, "behind those purple flowers."
"Thank you, ma'am." Then gesturing for Ben Kokua to join him, Steve stepped off the path and walked carefully around the flowers in the direction the Chus had indicated.
"What is it, Steve?" Ben asked.
"Mrs. Chu believes someone was near here around the time of the murder."
Ben knelt down. "Looks like she's right. The ground ahead is disturbed."
Steve nodded in agreement. "That bush is only partially pruned." Moving deliberately in order to preserve the scene, the detective stood behind the bush. "Whoever was working here had a sight line of the space where our victim was painting."
"So we have a witness or a murderer," Ben mused.
"If the time of death matches the time of the scream, yes. Find Chin and interview all of the gardeners and other employees. I want to know everyone's movements from the time the park opened this morning. No one leaves until they've spoken with us."
"Right, Steve."
When Steve stepped back onto the path, Danny Williams was waiting. The younger detective flipped open his notebook. "I just spoke with the Gardens' manager, Mr. Evergreen. Our victim is Gabriel Larson. He was their artist-in-residence for the summer. He beat out several other well regarded, up and coming local artists for the privilege."
"Any other information on Larson?"
"His parents own an upscale hotel in Waikiki. This has been a source of contention with some of the other artists who have argued that the residence position should have gone to someone who needed it more."
Steve mused over that information. It was difficult to make a living as a professional artist and the competition between artists could get intense. It was not surprising that Larson had made enemies, though the question remained whether or not it was sufficient motive for murder.
"Good work, Danno. Find out all you can about the Larson family. I want to visit his parents as soon as we finish up here."
Danny nodded and hurried off.
Noticing that Doc had arrived, Steve turned his attention back to body. The coroner would discover what clues he had missed. Any detail could end up being the clue that broke the case wide open. For solving a murder was not unlike painting a work of art. You had to have all the little details right and in their proper places before you could see the whole picture. And the more details they found, the easier seeing the picture of truth would be.
Ben forced himself to smile as he listened to the woman in front of him prattle on. She was eager to help his investigation - too eager - as the overload of information was threatening to be too much for the tired detective.
"I work with the 'alae 'ula or Hawaiian moorhen. I come in and feed them and clean their area. They are beautiful birds and endangered. Can you believe that people would want to destroy these precious creatures? Our work here at the Gardens is essential for their long term survival."
"Where are the birds kept?" Ben asked quickly when the woman took a breath.
"Here," she said as she pointed on the map, "near the park entrance."
That was nowhere near the Hawaiian flora exhibit, which meant that this woman was not the person he was looking for. Besides, if she had seen anything useful, he doubted that she would be able to hide the truth from anyone for long.
"Thank you, Miss. You have been very helpful; we will contact you if we have any more questions." Then he hurried away before she could share more information on her beloved birds.
The next two gardeners on his list, one haole and one Hawaiian, were seated together on a bench. Ben frowned; he'd prefer to talk with them separately but, as he watched the men converse in sign language, it appeared that might not be possible. He didn't know how to sign, so this interview promised to be interesting.
"Excuse me. I'm Ben Kokua from Hawaii Five-O. I need to ask you a few questions."
Luckily, the haole man looked up, signing as he said, "I'm Benjamin Flick and this is my friend, Mark Iona."
"Is Mark deaf?"
"Ask him yourself. I'll interpret."
Realizing that he had probably just made a social faux pas, Ben addressed the man he now clearly believed was deaf. "Mark, I'm Detective Kokua. I need to ask you a few questions. Are you deaf?"
"Yes, I can't hear."
Pulling out the map again, Ben forced himself to keep his eyes on the deaf young man. It was hard to not look at his friend who spoke when Mark signed. "Where were you working this morning?"
"The Hawaiian flora garden. I was pruning the pukiawe bushes."
Finally, someone who had been in the right area. "Can you show me where exactly?"
The man pointed on the map Ben was holding and the detective made a mark. It was close to where the murder occurred, but still a small distance away. "Did you see Larson or anyone else in the area?"
"I saw Larson walk down the path with his easel, but no, I did not see anyone else until everyone was saying that he had been murdered."
"Thank you. Benjamin, where were you this morning?"
Benjamin pointed to an area several yards north of where his friend had been working. "There. I was weeding in the hibiscus garden."
Further away than his friend, but still close enough that he might have noticed something. "Did you hear or see anything?" Ben asked.
"I heard a woman scream. I ran towards the sound, and found a couple standing in shock over the body."
"Do you know who screamed?"
"I assumed it was the woman who discovered the body."
"Are there any women who work near you?"
Both men shook their heads 'no'.
Ben handed each of the men his card. "If you think of anything else, don't hesitate to contact us."
As he walked away, Ben couldn't help but feel frustrated. After a morning of interviews, he had finally found someone who had been in the area of the murder. But because the man was deaf, he hadn't heard a thing. It was discouraging to get so close and then fall short of gaining the information he needed. Though as he prepared his report in his head, Ben couldn't help but wonder if the killer had known that Iona was deaf and had intentionally made his or her move when Iona was in the area. If so, this meant that they weren't dealing with a sudden crime of passion, but a well thought out and premeditated murder.
Solving crimes was never easy, but it appeared that circumstances were going to make solving this case harder than he originally thought.
That was, unless they found the woman who had screamed. After all, how hard could it be?
