Love Between Law and Life

Chapter 7: De-tec-tive Lowell – I like the Sound of that

             “We keep doing this, people are going to start talking.” Florence snarks as she settles down in the booth. It’s early enough in the morning that waitresses kept their voices low and most of the customers looked far too tired to even be aware of what day it was yet. Bobbie grins and slides a waiting cup of coffee to her, oh the nectarine of life.

            After dropping off Kaleo to school, she’d gotten a text from the detective to meet her by the café not far from the precinct. In typical fashion, she’d ranted, but showed up anyway. “People are always going to talk, doesn’t matter much what we do.”

            “Fair point.” Florence laughed. “So, I’m guessing that this isn’t just a social call?”

            “Unfortunately not, though I have the feeling that I’d get my ear drum shredded if it were.” Bobbie states with a shrug, placing a picture in front of her. It’s of an older man with grey hair and bright smile.

            “Not at all actually. You know Akamu, you’ve meet Kahula and Leo. Honestly, it’s just Kaleo to meet now. Put two of you in a corner to talk and you’d be asking for playdates within the hour.” The detective lets out a surprised bark of laugher at the comment, making Florence’s heart do the little skippy dance she hated.

            “Is that so? Kaleo sounds like he has the heart of gold, but if he inherited your personality, I’d be sure to bring my earmuffs.”

            “He talks, not so much the sacarsam, but I have a feeling he’s going to get addicted to it the moment he’s introduced.” The psychic snorts. “I don’t think I myself would be able to handle a mini-me.”

            “Can’t wait to meet him.”

            “Eventually, if you don’t piss me off.”

            “Whaaattt? I haven’t already?” Bobbie mock sniffed and dramatically wiped under her eye. “Shame on me.”

            “Hardy har har. So, who’s the guy in the pic?”

            “A possible lead.”

            Victor Akana. He was the owner of the bar Maxine and Erza had frequented since they were old enough to drink. They were well known and well-loved among both the staff and regular customers. Victor was actually the one who alerted the police of their missing status. The pair would attend the bar every week on a Friday afternoon, never missing unless they’d specifically told the bartender otherwise. When they’d missed three days – in other words, three weeks -without so much as a word, he’d grown worried.

            Bobbie gently nudged Florence in the side to catch her attention as they passed the wall filled with pictures of both staff and regular attendees. The psychic nods and slows down to a stop, tilting her head in silent askance for her to keep the bar tender busy while she looked around the area.

            She’s able to keep her attention on the woman for only a minute when Victor greets her. It’s early morning, so the bar isn’t open yet. He’d taken time out of his sleep to greet her when he could have just asked her to come back when the place was closer to opening. “A pleasure to have you here today, miss…”

            “Detective Bobbie Rhodes. Pleasure is all mines, thank you for meeting me.” She flashes her badge and shakes his hand, following him as he sits at a random table. Florence is at the wall of pictures, running her fingers gently across the display. “That’s my partner, Florence Lowell.”

            “Interesting one.” He raises an eyebrow at her, huffing with a small smile as the psychic’s knuckle shifts a picture and she fumbles to put it back in place with a panicked look, not realising she had two witnesses.

            “Yea, well… Never mind.” Bobbie resists the urge to face palm, turning her attention to the man. “I was here to ask you about-“

            “Maxi and Erz. I know. It’s been a while, but I still have new detectives in and around the place whenever someone new takes up the case.” He sighs tiredly, it was clear that he was frustrated by the lack of evidence or leads. Not that she could blame him, it must be hard to know someone that long and not know how they were taken. “It’s so sad to remember to see how happy they were the last time they were here and then a year later, you only hear about their passing on the news.”

            “I understand… I have to ask. Is there anyone here that might have had it out for the two of them?”

            “Honestly, no. Maxine never really talked to anyone, and Erza was big on having good bridges with anyone they met. They were complete opposites, but they complemented each other in every way.” He smiles, pulled into an old memory. “Those two made friends easily.”

            “What about anyone that may have gotten their attention, someone who didn’t like the way that they were in the bar or something?”

            “I… I actually don’t know. It’s hard keeping track of anyone not directly at the counter.” He mourns, rubbing a hand over his face with a sigh.

            “That’s totally understandable, you can’t be faulted for that.” Bobbie reasons, holding out her hands placatingly. “What about anyone coming in and having any altercations with the pair.”

            “None, they always kept their business to themselves. They’d always pick the easiest things to keep track off.” Victor drums his fingers on the table. “I used to find it odd at first, but then Erz told me about Maxi’s memory problems. Finally noticing the little details of things she forgot was so hard to handle. It made sense why they never bothered to tell anyone.”

            “I hope I’m not interrupting.” Florence’s voice is low and gentle as she takes a seat next to Bobbie, shaking the offered hand of the bar tender. Bobbie idly notes her stuffing her rag into her pocket but dismisses it from her mind.

            “Not at all. Pleasure to meet you Detective Lowell.” Bobbie raises her eyebrow at her partner when the psychic makes no move to correct them, huffing as Florence aims a light kick to her foot and carries on like nothing happened.

            “Great place you have here. All good reviews from what I hear.”

            “Is that so?” He chuckles at her merriment, knocking his hand on the counter. “Been running this place since my father handed it to me on my birthday. Never thought I could match up to him.”

            “You’ve not only matched up, but I believe you’ve surpassed him. He would be proud.” Florence grinned, dispersing the sadness and guilt that’d settled around them with terrifying ease. Bobbie had to admit that she was impressed at the skill the woman had for manipulating the room’s energy to suit her. What made it a little hilarious was her adamant declaration that she disliked having to converse with people every other hour. “I was wondering, who were the guys in the picture with you?”

            “That one to the top?” He pointed in confirmation. “The one on the right is my brother, Shervon, he’s on the mainland these days with his wife and kid. Always loved the idea of making his own big business. The pair to the side is Tua and Pika. They’re the ones who helped out in extending the placed, so I thought it’d only be fair to include them in the picture.”

            Florence hums with a thanks, knocking her hand in thought. Bobbie took it as her cue to pull the conversation back to her. “I know we took up quite a bit of your time, but thank you very much, this has been very informative.”

            “Spill.”

            “Spill?”

            “Yes, what did you get?” Bobbie looks at her, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. “Why ask about Tua and Pika?”

            Florence waits until they’re in the van to explain her fines. It wasn’t much, since most of the things in the bar had been passed through so many hands to really hold on to a memory, but it was enough to give her a little insight. “Tua and Pika have or had some sort of connection to Maxine and Erza.”

            “How?” Bobbie doesn’t even question how she got that information, glancing her with complete trust as she pulls out of the driveway and angles back onto the road.

            “I saw Pika walking up to Erza one night. She greeted him like she knew him and led him back to the table. He shook hands with Maxine and sat down.” The psychic tries to pull the glimpses of memories she got from the picture of the old couple hanging just below the one with Victor and the others. “I didn’t get a conversation, but it was most likely business.”

            “Why do you say that?”

            “Erza shook his hand. If they were friends or family, she would’ve hugged him in greeting. Besides, she looked  little worried.”

            “Worried?”

            “Look, it’s not clear, okay?” She huffs and slides down a little lower in her seat. Bobbie chuckles and shakes her head.

            “I’m not insulting you, you know I’m just trying to figure out why Erza would be worried. When I was talking to Victor, he said they kept their private lives to themselves and wasn’t a pair much on conversationalist.” The detective shrugs and taps her fingers on the wheel, “They might not have been the people to openly have a serious discussion in a bar.”

            “So, it had to be business then.” She hums, “Victor said they helped out extending the bar, is it possible that Tua and Pika might have been construction workers. At least to the extent of a private business.”

            “Maxine and Erza might have wanted to do work on the house, and those two might have been recommended to them by Victor.” Bobbie sighs, “Those two where living on their own, they wouldn’t easily trust someone to go inside their house, but they’d be willing to if they were recommended by a friend.”

            “Think we can pay them a visit?”

            Florence trailed behind the detective with a grin as they headed towards the warehouse Tua and Pika were said to be carrying out most of their small work. “So, you’re not going to say anything?”

            “About what?”

            “De-tec-tive Lowell. I kind of like it.” She grins harder as Bobbie makes a sound crossed between a snort and a growl.

            “You’re not a detective, kid.”

            “Okay, noooooo. I am literally a handful of years younger than you. Besides, it just feels all levels of wrong when you call me kid and I have a kid of my own.” She shudders as Bobbie shoots her an apologetic look.

            “Yea. Sorry, it kind of slipped out without me realising.” Bobbie cringes and knocks her hand on the closed door. Inside, the sound of a hacksaw comes to a stop and footsteps approach the door. “To be fair, you act like a kid most of the time.”

            “And I have the right to. It’s not like I’m required to act like an adult in any way on this case, why should I?”

            “Hi, how may I help you to lovely ladies today?” Bobbie’s retort is cut short as the door opens and a middle-aged man greets them. From the picture on the wall of the bar, this must be Pika. He’s buff and tall, a slight beard and brushed back hair, his black vest and kakis were littered with wood shavings. “The name’s Pika.”

            “Nice to meet you Pika. I’m Bobbie Rhodes and this is my partner, Florence Lowell.” Bobbie decided it would be better to leave the detective title out for this one, her badge and gun in the car. If it came to be, she was good with fighting with her hands and Florence had given her complete confidence that she would run for the high hills and leave Bobbie if trouble started, all the while cursing her name. The detective highly doubted it, if the protective streak the psychic had for anything that so much as caught her attention was anything to go by, but she’d humoured her.

            “Come in, come in. What can I help you with today?” He smiles easily and leaves the door open as he walks away, fully expecting them to follow. Bobbie sweeps the area with her eyes, taking in the uncut wood further back of the warehouse, to the intricately designed panels leaning on the wall to the front. The different smells of the wood was almost overwhelming, despite the doors opened to the back. “We’re just finishing up an order, so please don’t mind the mess.”

            “This is amazing work.” Florence whistles, head moving back and forth as she took in the designs around her.

            “Thank you, proud of having done all of it by hand. Uh, may I introduce you to my brother, Tua. He’s the guy behind the heavy lifting and business sales.” Pika waves to the man walking in from the open doors, nodding his head towards the pair.

            “What can I help you ladies out with today?” Tua unknowingly repeats the words of his brother, wiping his hands on a cloth stained with paint – spray paint, from the smell of it. “Looking to freshen up the look of your house? We have a sale on the window panels and wooden baby gates.”

            “Oh, yea. All kinds are accepted here, so no need to hide anything. A house is a home with who you spend it with.” It takes Bobbie too long to figure out what they were trying to say, and when her brain reboots, Florence had already taken the stage with ease.

            “Thank you, I wasn’t sure how I was even going to explain how what we wanted without feeling a little odd.” The psychic chuckles almost shyly and wraps her elbow around Bobbie’s. The detective had to give it to her, she knew how to act, but it didn’t stop the blood from rushing to her face at the thought and action. She’s done worse in terms of making suspects comfortable enough to talk, but for some reason, this has her heart doing a strange little skipping dance.

            “Not a problem.” Pika smiles kindly and leads them over to the counter with littered with drawings on graft paper, broachers, and a cash register. “So, anything in particular?”

            “Yes, we’re uh, we’re here about the job you did for Maxine.” It’s a shot in the dark, she didn’t even know if the pair had done any work to the house, but it was a better guess than anything. Florence pulls up her hand idly and knots their fingers together. Bobbie was going to pull away, but she found the action odd, it was like the movement was no different than the multiple nervous ticks Florence had on a day to day basis. She’d bet her badge that the psychic wasn’t even aware she was holding her hand at this point.

            “Ah, yes. I believe you’ve seen the lanai. Took some time, but that was one of the best works we’d done in a while. Beautiful, isn’t it.” Oh, the lanai. That made sense. It sort of explained why Erza was looking kind of worried, people in and around the house, the loud noises, stuff like that. “I don’t think Maxine wanted it initially, but she loved it once it was done. It was kind of hard to hear the both of them passed away.”

They carried on chatting for quite some time. Bobbie felt almost regretful that they weren’t actually going to buy anything, Tua and Pika were surprisingly easy going and willing to cut them deals from their connection with the late couple. Eventually, they’d cut conversation with a promise to meet again at some point and discuss, the evening hour close.

“So, what do you think?” Florence jogs up beside her, trying to keep up with her long strides. Bobbie slows down on silent apology, keeping pace with her.

“They’re not who we’re looking for.”

“Oo, so you got the same vibes.”

“I hate that word.”

“Wa- why?” Florence snorts as they get into the vehicle, shaking her head at the sudden chance of topics.

“I just don’t.”

“You don’t like it ‘cause you’re old.”

“Need I remind you that you’re the only who stated you’re in the same handful of age as me.”

“Yea, but I get points ‘cause I have a son. Gotta keep up with the lingo or I’ll never understand a word that comes out his mouth.” She grins. “Still, they didn’t give off any aura like a guilty man.”

“And they didn’t come off to worried, beyond the natural amount of remorseful for hearing one of your good clients were killed by a serial killer.”

“So, what now?”

“You return to the bookstore for the day while I go to the station to pull up any information I can get on them.”

Florence hums a low tune to herself as she putters around the kitchen, the night sky shining through the window above the sink. Kaleo was already asleep, tired from his day of school and practice. He’d gotten full marks on one of his recent tests, so it seemed only fair that she completely took over cleaning the evening wares without the extra help.

Today was fun. She was genuinely certain Bobbie was going to kill her at one point after she tuned back in and realised she was holding her hand. She didn’t have a vision, she’d just spaced out like she usually did when something didn’t catch her attention. It was a habit she’d had from young, and never really grew out of.

She definitely had her laugh at being mistaken for a detective. It was once a dream of hers, but one she never followed through since her kid. She didn’t have any regrets, however, after so many years of running around with actual detectives. Florence was more often than not just happy to palm the whole conversation and being polit part of the job on whoever had the luck of accompanying her that day.

The psychic whirls around to put the last plate on the pile on the counter when she lets out a muffled shriek and drops the ceramic on the ground. She curses as it shatters and spreads on the floor. Noelani just tilts her head at her, sunken holes where her eyes should have been face staring at her.

“We really need to stop meeting like this.” She growls and stoops down to pick up the biggest shards, careful to keep her unprotected feet away. First the coffee cup, and now the plate, the next time she was just going to chuck whatever was in her hand rather than drop it.

“You must hurry.” Noelani sobs, pulling Florence’s attention completely. “They will kill again soon. You have to find them. Please.”