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wagon” finally arrived, an old pineapple ag worker transport bus that had been modified for the MPD.
    The transport rumbled off with its load of downcast defendants, most of whom would be out that afternoon. Several teens and young boys had been caught up in the raid; they were often used to prep and care for the birds because they wouldn’t be arrested. Lei had seen the rolls of cash those kids were carrying. What was the incentive to stay in school with so much easy money to be had and Uncle or Dad raising birds worth thousands in the backyard?
    She and Pono leaned against the hood of her truck as Animal Control loaded up the rooster cages, still emitting agitated crowing. They’d take them down to the Humane Society, where they’d be adopted right away by their former owners or someone else using them for breeding stock.
    “I wouldn’t mind taking home that black bird,” Pono said thoughtfully. “It’s not illegal to raise chickens, and he’d be a valuable breeder.”
    The black pranced in his cage, sun reflecting off iridescent feathers.
    “Bet Tiare would have a few words to say about the crowing,” Lei observed. “Not to mention, his owner seemed ready to defend him to the death.”
    “These birds’re confiscated. He can’t have him back.”
    “Yeah, but the only way to make sure the birds don’t get back into the game is to destroy them. You ready to do that?”
    They both looked at the colorful birds filling the back of the Animal Control van. Pono looked at Lei. “Be a shame.”
    “Lotta things are a shame.”
    The dust was settling on the whole operation and they got in the truck. Many abandoned vehicles still cluttered the area. As she turned on the Tacoma, Lei had an evil thought.
    “Let’s impound these cars. Raise a little money for our department with some fines.” Lei stuffed down the conflicted feeling she had about straining the finances of subsistence-level families. These men had chosen the illegal blood sport with its risks—and they’d probably make up the fines next weekend.
    “Damn, girl, you’re good. Lieutenant’s gonna love that idea.”
    They called the tow company that subcontracted for the county. In short order, several trucks arrived, winching up a host of vehicles to be locked into the MPD Station impound yard, a big fenced lot behind the central Kahului station.
    “This is double genius. To claim the vehicle, they’re going to have to admit they were at the fight, or at least their vehicle was somehow there, and we can flag them in the system.” Pono grinned, thick fingers flying over his laptop as he updated the incident report.
    They headed back to Haiku Station in the village. The police station building was a renovated gray warehouse squatted behind the Haiku Cannery Mall, a giant Quonset hut pineapple packing plant in another era.
    The lieutenant was in her office. Somehow she kept the surface of her metal desk immaculate except for her computer and a stack of in-and-out trays. Her eyes were on her monitor when Pono knocked on her doorway; she beckoned without looking up, and they took the two hard plastic chairs facing the desk. When she was good and ready, she pushed a button on whatever she was doing and turned her attention to them.
    “We brought in eighteen arrests at the cockfight bust.” Pono had taken a few moments to print his report and he pushed it over. He’d told Lei never to approach the throne without an offering. Omura shuffled through the write-up. Lei hoped Pono had taken the time to run spell-check.
    “Nice work. How many of the detainees were juveniles? That will affect the final arrest count.”
    “Six.”
    “Well. You can’t include them in the arrest report. They can be included in the total count, though. So did you get any of the organizers of the fight in the roundup?”
    “Hard to tell. They all said they just got a text message about the date and time, that none of them had anything to do with putting it together.