“Micro-whatever. That’s a mouthful. So?”
“There’s explosive residue mixed in with the lava dust.”
“Like might be found up at the Pōhakuloa Army Training Area?” Koa asked.
“You got it. I had one of my boys take a run-up to the Army firing range.”
A touch of excitement crept into Koa’s voice. “You got a match?”
“Yeah, I got a match, a near-perfect match.”
Koa slapped the technician on the back. “I owe you a six-pack of Bikini Blonde Ale.”
Cap’s grin rewarded Koa.
They got much the same result when they compared Leffler’s fingerprints, lifted off the hit list with the partial fingerprint found on one of the shell casings. Cap had created two separate images at a resolution of five hundred pixels per inch—one of the partial print from the casing and the other from Leffler’s actual print.
“There are,” Cap explained, “three levels of print comparison—patterns, minutia points, and pore/ridge contours. The FBI IAFIS system uses only patterns and minutia points. With that system, I get an 80 percent likelihood of a match on these two prints.”
Koa groaned. “A defense lawyer will have a field day with a four-out-of-five chance.”
“Right,” Cap responded, changing the screen to show two more detailed images of the same prints. “But if I compare images at one thousand pixels per inch, I can compare pores and ridge contours, yielding many more matching points. I put the likelihood Leffler left the partial print on the casings to 99.8 percent.”
Koa let out a deep breath. “That’s more like it.”
“In essence,” Cap concluded, “there’s only one chance in five thousand someone else left the print on the casing.”
Koa bettered those odds. “Yeah, but combining the fingerprint and the damaged bootprint with the circumstantial evidence like his access to the military weapons, the sale of a similar weapon to Bane, his girlfriend’s testimony putting him alone in Hilo just before the shooting, and the list with Boyle’s and Witherspoon’s names crossed off, I like our chances of a first-degree murder conviction.”
Although they didn’t have him in custody, they’d identified the killer. Forty thousand dollars in crisp new hundreds said someone had hired him. Koa now wanted to know who. He guessed Leffler wouldn’t be talking anytime soon, so his only leads were the picture of Leffler and Tomi Watanabe at the Monarch bar and the forty thousand dollars. The picture wasn’t proof Watanabe hired Leffler, and his name on the hit list made it unlikely, but the mayor’s press aide still had some serious explaining to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
WHEN KOA RETURNED to his office, he found Sally Medea waiting for him. His hopes of finding Witherspoon’s secret soared at the sight of her. “You figure out what Arthur hid?”
“No, but I’ve been thinking. No matter which way I look at it, I keep coming back to a rose window. The rose windows of medieval churches captivated Arthur. He visited the great cathedrals in Europe and marveled at their rose windows. He drew dozens of architectural plans for rose windows.”
“I’m not sure I follow. What do rose windows have to do with anything? Are there any buildings with rose windows in Hilo?”
She shook her head. “No, that’s what troubles me. There’s no building with a cathedral-like rose window in Hilo or anywhere on the Big Island. Yet, I just know if Arthur hid something, it’d be near a rose window. It’s driving me nuts.”
“Keep trying,” he encouraged her.
“Are you making any progress in finding Arthur’s killer?”
“Yeah. An Army sergeant named Leffler pulled the trigger, but he’s a hired killer. I’m still trying to figure out who hired him.”
“The man who arranged Arthur’s death deserves to die,” she said with a vehemence that surprised Koa.
“Hawai‘i doesn’t have the death penalty, but he’ll go to prison for life.”
“That’s not good enough. Premeditated murderers should get the Biblical treatment—An eye for an eye.”
Koa knew the death penalty affected mostly the poor with bad lawyers, and that wasn’t right, but still, murder for hire deserved more than life in prison.
He thought about Sally after she left. She must have been deeply in love with Arthur Witherspoon, and he with her. Yet Witherspoon hadn’t shared his deepest secrets with her. She hadn’t participated in designing the KonaWili school. She knew nothing of the extra concrete and little about his conversations with Boyle or Gommes. Nor did she know where he’d hidden his secret. Rose windows, she’d said, but there were no rose windows on the Big Island. After puzzling on it for a while, he set it aside.
His sister called from Honolulu. Ikaika, now fully conscious, seemed to be doing well. “He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. He’s actually glad to have us around,” Alana reported.
“That’s wonderful.”
“He wants to see you. He asks about you all the time. When are you coming?”
Koa felt yanked in conflicting directions. The chief was still away, and the case had heated up with a host of new leads. Having discovered Makela’s name on Leffler’s hit list, he needed to re-interview her. He had to confront Watanabe. They had to track down Leffler and investigate Na‘auao’s hold over the governor. Yet, he felt an urgency to get to Honolulu and spend time with his brother. He’d been the one to arrest Ikaika, saving his life in the process. That event had momentarily renewed a troubled connection with his estranged brother at least until Ikaika blamed him for his subsequent parole revocation.
And now Ikaika might have a new lease on life, maybe even a new attitude toward his family. Koa also had to explore Walker McKenzie’s offer to arrange access to medical experts. Perhaps having been an instrument of Ikaika’s incarceration, he could help set him free again. Was he dreaming? Probably so.
“Koa, are you there?”
His sister’s voice broke his reverie. “I need to make some calls, then I’ll come see Ikaika. I’ll call you with the details.”
“Come soon, Koa.”
Koa left police headquarters and walked to a block of 1920s storefronts not far from the county offices. Climbing the rickety steps to Alexia Sheppard’s office. He found her in her sun-streaked, plant-filled office working at her laptop. He sat down in one of the easy chairs opposite her desk and waited for her to look up. An attractive woman in her late thirties with luxurious long black hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, she was the daughter of one of Hilo’s most well-known lawyers and philanthropists. Her father had set her up in a law practice before his death, and she’d made a name for herself with a powerful courtroom presence and a magical way of connecting with juries. Koa knew many a male opponent who had underestimated her skill only to pay the price.
Concentration lined her round face and furrows wrinkled her forehead as she worked her way through some legal problem. He spent the time watching Alibi, her big black cat, cleaning himself atop a pile of books on the shelf next to her desk. Alexia and Alibi were inseparable, and some judges even allowed the black beast into their courtrooms.