Tahoe Ice Grave

by Todd Borg

  “I feel like one, too.” My head throbbed. My body felt broken. All I wanted was a handful of pain pills and a six-pack to wash them down. I looked in the mirror. Boris Karloff in The Mummy stared back at me.

  The door opened and a dark man dressed in a white shirt and blue pants walked in. He had smooth Polynesian skin on European features. He saw me standing in front of the bathroom mirror. He showed no reaction to my bandaged head. “Good to see you up and about, Mr. McKenna. I’m Frank Kanoa, Lihue Police Chief.”

  We shook hands. Even that hurt.

  “I would like to talk to you. Is this a convenient time or would you like to...” he gestured at my mini gown.

  “Why not give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

  “Good idea,” he said.

  Kanoa stepped out into the hallway while Street helped me pull on my clothes. It wasn’t easy as I had aches and pains to match the bruises. While we were at it, Dr. Fujimoto came into the room.

  “You are doing better,” he said, his voice brusque. “But don’t dress. You will have to stay here at least twenty-four hours.”

  “Is that the most lucrative portion of the insurance payment?”

  His face reddened. “I’m sorry I said that about Alvin Kahale’s death.” He handed me two pills and a little paper cup of water. “Here, take these. You’re going to need them for pain for the next several days.”

  Tell me about it, I thought as I swallowed. “Anyway, I pay my own bills. So I think it’s time I leave. Thanks for your care.” I continued struggling with my clothes. I got my pants up and snapped and decided to sit on the bed to rest for a minute.

  “May I?” the doctor said, approaching me with one of those lights to look in my eyes.

  I nodded.

  “Now that you’re conscious we’ll need you to fill out some forms. Get you checked in before you check out,” he said as he inspected my eyeballs. “Any dizziness? Head pain?”

  “Both.”

  “You are lucky,” he said. “They informed me that you landed head first which is always a bad idea.”

  “Hard to plan these things.”

  “In any event, it is paramount that you do not bump your head.”

  “So Street has told me.”

  “Your brain is bruised from the impact. Another impact in the same area could throw you into a coma.”

  “Message received.”

  “Your lady friend, here, told me about what John Kahale said. That the man who threw the stick at the helicopter was in the hospital around the time John’s grandfather Alvin Kahale died. If there is a connection, then I apologize for being abrupt with you yesterday morning. Perhaps you were on to something after all, although I still believe he died of cancer.”

  If Dr. Fujimoto were sorry, he didn’t sound like it. I had the feeling he was forcing himself to say the words in hopes I wouldn’t make good on my threat to bring in lawyers. I knew from my Tahoe doctor friend John Lee that medical malpractice attorneys were a doctor’s worst nightmare.

  “I will give you a prescription for some medication.” He scrawled on a prescription pad, tore off the sheet and handed it to me. “Remember not to bump your head. I can’t stress that enough.” He left.

  “What a cockroach,” Street muttered.

  She helped me pull on the last of my clothes. “The policeman was here earlier. I told him about what happened. He wanted to know as much as possible about the man who threw the stick. All I could give him was a physical description.”

  “I can only add one thing to that. I saw the same man arguing with the owner of the Rubicon Lodge where Thos was shot.”

  “You saw the man in Tahoe?”

  “Yes. At the time I thought of him as a Viking, because his blond hair and beard looked like a clichéd version of a Norwegian.”

  “Seeing him twice connected to this case certainly makes him look like our killer.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Let’s go talk to the Police Chief.”

  I opened the door and we stepped out into the hall where Frank Kanoa was waiting.

  “I met Street a few hours ago,” he said. He nodded toward her and gave her a polite smile. “She explained that you are a private cop, and she filled me in on parts of your investigation. We are interested in what you know of this man with the beard and long hair.”

  “Next to nothing. I saw him at Lake Tahoe a few days ago.” I explained where I’d seen him.

  Frank Kanoa raised his eyebrows. “We faxed Street’s description of the man to every agency at the airport. Security, airline personnel, car rental companies, etc. We eventually learned that a man fitting the description took an inter-island flight to Honolulu. His name is Ole Knudson. We spoke to the gate attendant. He remembered the man because of his long hair.”

  “Any idea where he went from there?”

  “No. He could have disappeared on Oahu. We’re also trying to check the passenger lists of all departing flights since then.” Frank looked at his watch. “He could be landing in San Francisco or L.A. in a few hours. But if he has an ID under a different name and managed to cut his hair and beard before he boarded a mainland flight, we’re out of luck. The attendant verified that Knudson had a photo ID with that name on it. The attendant is sure the ID wasn’t a California or Nevada driver’s license, because he sees them so often. But he couldn’t remember what state had issued it.”

  “How could Knudson have gotten out of the canyon so fast?” I said. “I understood it was a two or three day hike in and back.”

  “On a normal route, yes. But if he is a good climber and very strong, he could have climbed straight up the cliff and worked his way back to one of the lookouts on the road above. It would only take an hour or so. He may have left a car there.”

  “Street,” I said. “Any idea where my phone is at?”

  “It was in your pocket. It survived the crash.” She pulled it out of her bag and handed it to me. “You’re worried,” she said.

  I nodded. “Another Kahale is dead and the Viking is my only suspect. He was in Tahoe before. He may go back there. Could be there are more Kahales on his list.”

  “Janeen and her grandson?”

  “Yes.”

  “But Jasper is still alive and he’s here.”

  “I can’t make sense of it,” I said. “But I want to warn them.” I hit the phone book function on the phone. It was hard to see the names because my vision was blurred and my head hurt so much it was painful even to try and focus my eyes. I didn’t remember if I’d entered in Janeen’s number and others connected to the case, but there it was. I hit the call button and waited while it rang. Either I had a bad connection or else Janeen hadn’t turned on her answering machine. After two tries with no answer, I dialed Captain Mallory.

  He was in his office. “Mallory,” he barked.

  “It’s Owen.”

  “I thought you were in Hawaii. Diamond said...”

  “I am.”

  “Oh. How’s the beach? Golf? Hula girls?”

  “Don’t know,” I said. I filled him in on what we’d learned, telling him about the Viking named Ole Knudson, but leaving out my injuries to save time.

  “You want me to baby-sit the lady and her son?”

  “Grandson. No, but maybe you could send a squad out there, check up on them, tell them to answer their phone.”

  Mallory said he would.

  I said goodbye and scrolled through the other names I’d stored in the phone. I squinted, trying to see. Every heartbeat sent a pulsing pain through my temples. There was Jerry Roth.

  He answered on the second ring.

  “I’m wondering if you can do me a favor,” I said after I’d identified myself.

  “Of course.”

  “I’m hoping you can check up on Janeen and Phillip. She doesn’t answer the phone.”

  “Is this connected to her son’s murder?”

  “Yes.”

  “You think Janeen and Phillip could be next?” Jerry sounded very
worried.

  “It doesn’t make any sense, but I don’t want to take any chances. We’ve identified a possible suspect in Thos’s murder. But any danger to Janeen and Phillip is still speculation.”

  “Who is the suspect?”

  I hesitated. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t repeat anything about this just yet.”

  “Oh, of course not. But if I have an idea of who to watch out for, I’ll be better able to look after Janeen and Phillip, won’t I?”

  “The man’s name is Ole Knudson. He has long blond hair and a big bushy beard. Three Kahales have died recently not counting Janeen’s son Thos.”

  “Jesus. The poor woman will flip her britches. I’ll run over there right away, then. Soon as I can pull on a jacket.” It sounded on the phone like he was already moving.

  “Thanks. One more thing, Jerry. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m wondering if you could put them up for a few days at your house. It’d be easier to keep a watch on them and they wouldn’t be quite such easy targets if Ole Knudson does come after them.”

  “Janeen and Phillip at my house? Well, I suppose. I’ve got an extra room. Actually, I’ve got about four extra rooms. This is a big house. But the thing is, Owen, I doubt that Janeen would agree to that. She’s quite headstrong. Maybe you should come over and talk to her in person.”

  “I would, but I’m in Hawaii.”

  “Oh. I never...” he stopped, surprise in his voice.

  “Just make the offer to Janeen,” I said. “Meanwhile, I’ll still try to get her on the phone and explain.”

  “Okay. Do you know where this Knudson fellow is?”

  “No. He was in Kauai, but he’s left and may be heading to Tahoe. I’ll be there as soon as I can, but it will still take half a day.”

  “Well, you can rest assured that if the bloody bugger intends to harm Janeen and little Phillip, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  “Thanks for helping, Jerry. I’ll call back soon.” I hung up wondering what kind of mismatch it would be between Jerry on his crutch and the muscular Viking. I turned back to Street and the Lihue Police Chief Frank Kanoa. “Janeen’s neighbor Jerry is going to check up on them.”

  Kanoa spoke. “Why don’t you take me back through your investigation. Tell me about this case from the beginning.” He gestured toward some chairs in the hallway.

  I took the hint and sat down. I started with the phone call from Janeen Kahale and took him through the details step by step.

  “Let me see if I have this straight,” Kanoa said when I was done. “You think Jasper Kahale’s father died from suffocation and that his brother’s death in the car crash was no accident.”

  “Correct,” I said. “That car accident. What can you tell me about it?”

  “Not much. The body was found in his car down a steep incline below the Waimea Canyon road. It looked like he missed a turn in the dark. The vehicle rolled several times.”

  “Was it a turn that is easy to miss?”

  “Yes,” Kanoa said.

  “So if someone forced him off the road, no one would be the wiser.”

  “Yes, again.” Frank Kanoa picked at a hangnail, then bit it off. “Thos wrote a suicide note?”

  I nodded. “In it he claims responsibility for three deaths.”

  “Did you believe the note?”

  “I asked Thos’s mother if she believed it. She felt that Thos had told the truth as he knew it in the note. So I assumed that if Thos didn’t murder anyone, then he did something that indirectly caused three people to die. I went looking for any deaths that were proximate to Thos. When I found two of them in his family I wondered if they were murder. With the death of John, it is starting to look like an epidemic in the Kahale family.”

  Street spoke up. “With Grandpa Alvin, Jasper’s brother John senior, and his brother’s son John junior, that is three deaths. Yet only the first two of them could figure in Thos’s note about causing the deaths of three people. So we’re still missing one death.”

  “Right,” I said. I turned to Frank. “Have there been any other unusual deaths in Kauai recently?”

  Frank pushed his lips out and frowned. “I don’t pay a great deal of attention to all the deaths on the island, of course. They are almost always of natural causes. The only recent death that wasn’t was a stabbing death about three weeks back.”

  “Who was the victim?”

  “A local tough guy who went by the single name of Napoleon. He was always in trouble. Brawls when he was young, knife fights when he got older. Last time we picked him up, it was for unlawful possession of a Glock Seventeen, stolen in a burglary from a Phoenix cop’s home. How Napoleon got it, we don’t know.”

  “Did you find Napoleon’s killer?”

  “No.”

  “Recover a weapon?”

  “No. The medical examiner said he died from a single stab wound to the chest with a long, thin knife. But we never found it. The most unusual thing about the death was that Napoleon was found right out there.” Frank pointed out the front door of the hospital. “Someone dumped him on the grass in front of the door, honked his horn twice and drove off.”

  “Someone who wanted to save Napoleon’s life but wasn’t going to risk getting any more involved.”

  “Yeah,” Frank said. “You think it was Thos and that this was the third death he mentioned in his suicide note?”

  “Could be.”

  We spoke for another half hour, going over every detail. “You think Ole Knudson is going to Tahoe?” Frank said at last.

  “Yes. I saw him there before, so it makes sense he may head back. If not now, later. Brock Chambers, the owner of the Rubicon Lodge, might know who the Viking is. I’d call, but something tells me to be wary of Chambers. I’d like to confront him in person.”

  “Then I’ll wait until you talk to him before I put his name on my report,” Kanoa said. “Of course, Knudson may get to Chambers first. If Chambers is involved in some way, he could be doing a vanishing act as we speak.”

  “I’ll let my friend Mallory of the South Lake Tahoe PD know. Maybe he can convince the El Dorado Sheriff’s Office to put a tail on him,” I said. “Have you found out how Ole Knudson got around Kauai? Did he rent a car?”

  “We’re still checking. I’ll let you know when we find out.”

  Street and I walked very slowly out to our rental car which Street had earlier fetched from the helicopter tour office. If anyone saw my lurching and my bandages, they’d look around for the movie cameras with Hollywood logos on them.

  “How you doing, hon?” Street said as she held my arm.

  “I feel like I’ve been in a helicopter crash.”

  When we got to the car, Street eased me into the front seat, then she drove back to our condo. She took the house phone out on the lanai to call about moving our return tickets to the next available flight while I got Mallory on my cell phone.

  “I think you should convince the El Dorado deputies to watch Brock Chambers,” I said. “The guy who owns the Rubicon Lodge.”

  Mallory asked a few questions. I gave him the background.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll be back in a day or so.”

  “Better not wait too long. They’re talking about a big storm in the Gulf of Alaska. Supposed to hit us in a few days. From the way the weather guys are carrying on, it’ll shut down the passes and we’ll be isolated for a time.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  Mallory hung up without saying goodbye.

  “We’re booked on tonight’s flight to LAX,” Street said when I joined her out on the lanai. “It gets in at five a.m. There’s a six a.m. flight to Reno. We’ll be in Tahoe by nine in the morning. What next?”

  “Next we go back to visit Jasper. He must be reeling in shock over John’s death.” I found his number and dialed.

  “Hello, Jasper,” I said when he answered. “Owen McKenna calling.”

  There was silence on the phone. Then, “My nephew John died this morni
ng in a helicopter crash. They say someone caused the accident on purpose.”

  “Yes, Jasper. I’m very sorry.” He didn’t know that Street and I had been on the same aircraft. We could explain later. “I want to come and talk to you about John. Would that be okay?”

  Another pause. “Yes.”

  “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  TWENTY

  Street drove. I held my head. We headed across Kauai, through fields of sugarcane so thick one would need a machete to walk through them. It was late afternoon when we got to Jasper’s house.

  “Will he mind that I’m coming?” Street asked as we parked outside of Jasper’s cinder block house.

  “No. It will help. He will be less sad with you around.”

  We walked very slowly up the side of the house. I felt like I needed a walker and my head throbbed as if a 747 had landed on it. The waves on the beach were gentle and not as loud as before. I knocked.

  “Door’s open,” Jasper called out.

  I pushed open the door and stepped into the dark interior. “Hello, Jasper.”

  “Hello.” He sat in his chair unmoving. “What happened to your head?”

  “My girlfriend Street Casey and I were in the helicopter with John when it crashed.”

  Jasper didn’t respond.

  After a long moment I said, “Jasper, I brought Street along because I told her about you and she wants to meet you.”

  Street stepped forward, a warm smile on her face. “Hello, Jasper. I’m Street. Good to meet you.”

  “Well, well,” Jasper said. He stood up slowly, pushing on the arms of the chair for assistance. When he was standing he reached out and shook Street’s hand. “I know you told me she was good looking,” he said, “but I didn’t realize she was so beautiful.” Although he gave me an elaborate wink, there was no joy on his face. “Can I get either of you a drink? I have Mountain Dew.”

  We both said no thanks.

  “Jasper, we’re very sorry about John,” I said.

  Jasper stopped moving and leaned on the kitchen counter. “They told me what happened, the man throwing the stick. But I didn’t know who was with him.” Jasper looked out at the surf. He didn’t move. “Well, you survived,” he said finally. “John would have wanted that. My brother and me, our boys, we’re alike that way. Thos and John both had honor. They would go down with their ships. But they wouldn’t want harm to come to anyone near them.”