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no longer in use before burying someone there,” said Kali. She passed the anchor back to Stitches, then walked over to a rolling metal cart where the wooden pineapple had been placed.

“The pineapple is a fascinating component,” she said, gazing intently at the details of the design. She lifted it and turned it upside down. It had been created from a single piece of wood. There was a hole in the bottom, roughly square, with a cavity that was about six inches deep.

“I’m not sure ‘fascinating’ is an appropriate descriptor,” responded Stitches, replacing the metal charm back into the small evidence bag. “Though the intricacy of the carving, in my inexpert opinion, appears to be of a high quality.” She followed Kali with her eyes. “I see you’ve noted the hole. Fence post would be my best guess. While you’re sorting out that bit, I’ll be trying to collect enough DNA from the remaining hard tissues in the body for the forensics lab to work with. There’s likely been substantial degradation, though perhaps not as much as would have occurred if the body hadn’t been partially sealed.”

“Partially?” asked Walter. “Looked to me like he was pretty well secured in there.”

“Yes, but the rubber sealing material used to keep the refrigerator door closed had rotted away in large sections, so the interior was not airtight. External microbes had access to the body at that point, though there was likely a delay of some time before that occurred.” Stitches glanced over at the pineapple. “At any rate, it’s all yours. We didn’t find anything on it, so you can add it to your evidence collection, such as it is. The charm, as well.”

She waggled the small plastic bag in front of her, and nodded toward the pineapple. “I left a box in the hall beside my office door. The pineapple should fit.” As Kali and Walter lingered, their gaze on the skeleton, Stitches cleared her throat impatiently. She crossed to the pineapple, lifting it. “I have work to do, and so do you. Let’s get on with it, shall we?” She placed the ornate carving in Walter’s hands and handed the anchor bag to Kali, then turned away from them without saying anything more.

Walter gripped the wooden fruit, raising a brow at Kali. They made their way through the door and into the hallway, pausing outside Stitches’s office door where an empty cardboard box was sitting. Carefully, Walter slipped the pineapple inside, glancing at the writing on the box.

“Bone saw,” he read, then hoisted the box up. “Yikes. When my wife leaves empty boxes around the house, they usually say something like shoes, or wineglasses.”

Kali grinned. “I’d be willing to bet that Stitches gets as excited about a new bone saw as your wife does about a new pair of sandals.”

“Yeah, bet you’re right,” he said. Together they left the building and made their way to the parking lot, where Walter finally shook his head. “And then there’s you with dogs. I understand criminals. Even kids, to some degree. But I don’t think I’ll ever get a handle on the way you think.”

“I wouldn’t waste my time trying if I were you.” She patted the box. “The fence post makes a lot of sense, though. I can see the pineapple sitting on top of it, maybe at the entrance to a road or property.”

They climbed into the Jeep, the box holding the pineapple stored safely in the rear seat. Walter glanced at his phone as Kali started the car and pulled slowly out and onto the road.

“Couple of messages from Hara. We’ve got a good lead on that cock-fighting ring that’s operating up-country, you know, the one we suspect is run by that brother-and-sister duo. The woman just checked in at the emergency clinic covered with gouges that look like they came from a pissed-off rooster. Not to mention, that couple who found the fridge have been running their mouths. We’ve got a ton of calls from everyone including the newspaper in Honolulu asking about it.” He sighed. “Damage control time, I suppose. Other than that, Hara says he’s come up with twenty-two names of still-unaccounted-for missing males since 1997, which is the date I gave him to start with. Seeing how it’s the year the Shandling Fruit Company gave up and left.”

Kali grimaced. “That doesn’t seem like a lot, somehow.”

“A lot of missing people eventually turn up, as you know. Different names, unexpected places, dead, hiding, whatever.”

“Once we have more details, we should be able to narrow the list a bit.”

“Agreed,” said Walter. “I’ll pick up my car from your house later on. Let’s just head straight to the station.”

CHAPTER 5

Officer David Hara, the rookie who was currently serving under Walter’s supervision at the small Maui satellite police office near Hana, was sitting at his desk in front of his computer, his back very straight, his dark blue uniform shirt neatly pressed. He stood up respectfully as Walter and Kali entered.

“Captain. Detective.”

Walter rolled his eyes.

“Sit down, Hara, for crying out loud. And spill something on your shirt, will you?”

Hara looked confused.

“Ignore him,” Kali said to Hara. She watched as Walter tugged instinctively at the rumpled collar of his own shirt, which was spread to the limits of the available cloth across his wide girth. “He’s just intimidated by anyone who doesn’t look as though they spent the night being dragged through the underbrush by a loose house cat.” What she didn’t say was that she was aware of how Hara’s extraordinary good looks made Walter vaguely uncomfortable, as though he were being personally judged by some unnamed force, and found wanting in comparison.

To help relieve Hara’s obvious discomfort, Kali walked over to a long wooden table where a coffeemaker had been set up next to an electric kettle and a microwave. There was an apartment-sized refrigerator next to the table, and a small, newly erected shelf above the fridge. She took two clean mugs down from the shelf, and placed

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