Twisted Vine by Toby Neal Read Free Book Online Page A

to find it.”
    Lei nodded, setting the bag with the others next to her kit. “I want to deal with that dog.”
    “Poor dog,” Fukushima said. As usual, the fastidious ME was swathed in sterile wear and even wore a particle mask. Ken gestured to the keys, still in the ignition. “Chances are the door key is there.”
    Lei lifted them out carefully, holding the side of the main key. She’d fingerprint that later—but for now, she walked across the garage to the back door and inserted a silver Schlage into the lock.
    The dog that charged the door, yapping fiercely, was a wire-haired Jack Russell terrier, white with brown spots and a good deal of attitude.
    Lei squatted down, lowering her voice and extending her closed fist for him to sniff. “Hey, boy. You hungry?”
    The dog tentatively sniffed at her hand, and his tail wagged. She slowly stood up and advanced into the kitchen, spotting his bowls (both empty) against the wall. She picked up the water bowl first, turning on the sink and letting her eyes roam around the room, looking for anything out of place.
    It was spotless and pristine except for a corner near the trash bin where the dog had succumbed to biology and defecated. She refilled the bowl and located a lidded trash bin filled with dry food. She refilled that too as the dog frantically lapped water.
    Ken came up into the doorway. “We should search the house.”
    “I know. Got a lot of detail work ahead, but I want to figure out something for this little guy.”
    “Strange that Shimaoka didn’t give him away before he died. People planning their suicide usually do that. Another oddity.”
    “Maybe he didn’t have time. Maybe it came up suddenly,” Lei said, frowning thoughtfully as she set the dog’s bowl down. The little terrier chomped down the food as fast as he could. “Did Ching find out the dog’s name from the neighbor?”
    “Ask me yourself.” Ching approached across the garage with his clipboard.
    “Hey, Detective. Did the lady who found the body say what the dog was called?” Lei ignored his attitude.
    “His name’s Sam.” They all looked at the little dog with his nose in the bowl. “She said Shimaoka usually took good care of the dog.”
    “I wonder if she’d be willing to take care of him until a relative or something can be located.”
    Ching leafed through the papers on his clipboard, removed one and handed it to her. “Here’s her contact information.” He was clearly not volunteering for dog care duty. “She seemed attached to Shimaoka. Cried a lot over the discovery. Said she knew about the cancer.”
    Sam finished eating and darted out the open doorway and through the garage, past the open door of the SUV, where his master’s body was being awkwardly wrestled into a body bag by Dr. Fukushima and her assistant. Ching and Ken hurried to help while Lei ran after the dog. Sam trotted into the immaculate little front yard and did his business. Lei scanned the neighbors still clustered on the other side of the tape Ching had put up at the end of the driveway.
    One woman, dressed in purple sweats and a T-shirt with a lei hand painted across the front, was crying into a dish towel. Lei approached her, glancing at the paper Ching had handed her. “Hi there. You wouldn’t be Sherry Thompson, would you?”
    “Yes.” The woman looked up, brown eyes streaming. She had the kind of complexion that didn’t age well in Hawaii, tissue-like freckled skin patched with red. “I was a good friend of Alfred. I can’t believe he did this to himself.”
    “Tell me what happened, please.”
    She listened to a recap of what Ching had already told them, with embellishments of shock and grief. Finally, when Sherry was winding down, Lei gestured to the little dog doing a patrol lap of the front yard. “Any chance you could take care of Sam? I’d hate to see Animal Control have to come take him to the Humane Society.”
    Sherry squatted and opened her arms in reply. “Sam! Come here,