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for the police was the same in Hawaii as at home, and she dialed 9-1-1 to get the emergency dispatch operator. “Hi. I need to report a death. I need the police.”

“Death? Are you safe? Is someone there threatening you with a gun or knife?”

Gina scanned the area around the front of the house. “I don’t see anyone else.”

“Has CPR been started?”

“It might be an hour or so too late for that. He’s already kinda stiff,” Gina said, looking down at the body. He had rolled back to his original position that she found him in.

“I’ll send an ambulance. What’s your address?”

“Address?” That was a good question. As far as Gina knew, there was no address for the house. The closest real street was on the other side of the stream a hundred feet away. “Not sure of the address.”

“What’s your location, Ma’am?”

“Just a little house in the woods. It’s off the East-West Road, wherever that is. I just got here a couple days ago.” Gina felt embarrassed, that she couldn’t give a better description of her location. She’d been on police calls a dozen times while working as an officer, trying to find someone that had given vague reports of where to meet them. “Look, the entrance to the place is a narrow lane that goes over a little bridge across the stream. There’s a gravel driveway to follow after that.”

“Which stream?”

“Manoa Stream, wherever that is.”

“You’re near the university?” the dispatcher asked with a gentle sing-song accent.

“That’s right. On the other side of the estate are a couple of large water tanks on a ridge.”

“Do you mean the old Tanizawa estate?”

“Yeah, you know it?”

“Everybody knows it. Please hold while I send an ambulance and police.”

That’s when a pickup truck drove in. Gina recognized the driver as Felix. She waved for him to stop before he got to the front porch. Then the dispatch operator came back on.

“Okay, police and rescue are on their way. Do you need to me to stay in the line?”

“No, I’m okay,” she said, ending the call. She saw Felix staring at the body on the porch. He was dressed for work that day, with long, thin pants and work boots on his feet. “A little bit of a problem this morning, Felix.”

“Looks like it. He won’t leave?”

“More than that. He’s dead.”

He took a couple of steps backward. “Huh?”

“Big surprise, right?” Her police brain kicking in again, she knew she needed to secure the scene to prevent contamination of any evidence. Even though the man was simply a homeless drifter, the police liked to make sure he died of natural causes before moving him or disturbing the scene unnecessarily. Bringing up the camera on her phone, she took photos of the body from multiple angles, including a close-up of his face, hands, and soles of his shoes. Maybe she’d never made it out of field training as a rookie officer, but she knew those were the parts of the body and clothing that often held the most evidence. That’s when she saw something unusual about his shoes.

She noticed Felix taking another step backward. “Maybe you should go to the street and watch for the police. But stay off the driveway. The police might want to look for footprints in the wet dirt.”

“He’s really dead kind way?”

“Unfortunately. Does he look familiar to you?”

Felix frowned for the first time Gina could remember, and shook his head. “Looks homeless.”

“That’s what you told me a couple days ago.” The first siren came from a distance, followed by another. Gina’s trained ear could tell one was a police car and the other an ambulance.

“He’s the same guy as the other day?”

Gina nodded. “I’ve found him sleeping on the porch each morning. He moved a little slow, but he always wandered off toward the bridge.”

“Sounds like the police are almost here,” Felix said.

“Better go wave them down so they know where to come. And stay off the bridge. There might be footprints there, also.”

Felix trotted off to the bridge, but crossed through the stream to the street outside. Once he was gone, she looked at the shoes of the dead man again.

“This isn’t the same kind of grass growing as weeds here on the estate. This is lawn grass.”

There were several clumps of two-inch bits of grass stuck to the soles of both shoes. All of it was uniform in length, as though it had been mown. She couldn’t help herself but pick one off for a closer look.

“One little lawn clipping won’t be missed from a dead homeless guy’s shoes. Not like there’s anything suspicious about him.”

Gina hurried into the house with the piece of grass. Getting the little magnifying glass she’d brought to look at insects and pests close up, she examined the blade of grass. One end was brown, while the other end was still green, freshly clipped. The length of it was still green but dry. A big part of her horticulture education had been in ornamental landscape, and that included lawn care. After all the lawns she’d mowed in the last couple of years during her training in landscaping, she was familiar with grass. This particular specimen looked…

Interrupting her were loud police sirens. She tucked the blade of grass in a ziplock bag and left it on the kitchen counter before going out to the porch again.

With one last whoop whoop announcing their arrival, the siren was cut when the police car came across the bridge. When it appeared through the trees, it turned to where Gina waved her arms at them. The squad car bounced through puddles in the gravel double-track as it approached a little too fast, and after hitting one bump too hard, it slowed to a stop. Both uniform cops got out and drew their weapons.

“It’s okay! The scene is secure!” Gina shouted from her spot on the porch.

Keeping their sidearms in their hands, they walked slowly toward her, scanning the area around them. That’s when the ambulance showed up, its lights

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