“Same as last time.”
She hung up without saying good-bye.
I caught her up on events of the past two days but left out mentioning the insurance policy until I could check it out.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “You think this ‘BT’ guy may have thrown your brother in the canal over an affair with the wife?”
“Doesn’t seem reasonable. But I’m not ruling anything out. What’d you find out about the Good Samaritan?”
“The reason the EMTs only wrote down one name is because they know the guy. He’s a homeless man who hangs out in Ala Wai Park. His name’s ‘Norman’. Seems nobody knows if that’s his first name or his last name, but everybody knows who he is.”
“Do you think he’ll talk to us?”
“He saved your brother’s life. Well, he tried to anyway. He’d probably like it if you came by to say ‘thanks’, don’t you think?”
We found Norman sifting through a garbage bin at the far end of the park near Magic Island. He looked up as we approached, but when he determined we weren’t cops or bum rollers he went back to digging through the trash. He pulled out a Jamba Juice cup and shook it to see if there was any left.
“Norman?” Wendi said.
Norman looked wary, but he nodded.
“There’s someone here who’d like to talk to you,” she stepped back so I’d be front and center. She made the introductions, pausing after Norman’s name to allow him to fill in either the missing first or last name but he said nothing.
I stuck out my hand. Norman put down the juice cup and wiped his hands on his shorts. Then he gently tapped a fingertip to the back of my outstretched hand.
“I want to thank you for getting my brother out of the canal last week,” I said.
“That was your brother? I’m sorry. I heard what happened. Everybody out here’s talking about how they’ve put all that dirty stuff in the canal.”
“Yeah. It isn’t good. But you were brave to fish him out of there and I appreciate it.”
He eyed me as if waiting for some tangible proof of appreciation.
Wendi broke in. “Would you mind answering a couple of questions for us? Mr. Wilkerson’s memorial service is tomorrow and the family would like to have closure.”
Norman shifted his eyes from Wendi to me and then back again.
I spoke up. “And our family would like to give you a small reward for your efforts. We really appreciate how you tried to save him.”
Norman’s face softened. “It wasn’t nothin’.”
“Well, thank you anyway,” I said. “My brother didn’t know how to swim. So getting him out of there was really kind of you.”
Wendi took over. “It was around midnight when you heard the splash and the scream, right?”
Norman nodded. “I guess. I don’t have no watch.”
“And then you jumped in and pulled her brother out?”
He shook his head. “No, it didn’t go like that. I saw two people near the wall. Next thing I know, I hear a splash and I hear someone yellin’. I went over and gave him a hand and he got his leg up on the side and crawled over. Wasn’t no big rescue or nuthin’.”
“And you saw the other person run away?”
“I seen a guy in a hat. I think it was a baseball-type hat, but it was real dark so I couldn’t be sure. The guy was skinny. Coulda even been a teenager, I ‘spose. We got lots of teenagers out here most nights.”
“Well,” I said. “We appreciate what you did. My family would like to give you five-hundred dollars to thank you. Do you have a cell phone? I’ll call so we can set up a time to meet tomorrow.”
He laughed. “Thanks for the money, but I don’t got no phone. Don’t got nobody to call. But you can always find me here at the park.”
“Great. I’ll come by tomorrow morning.”
We walked back to Wendi’s car. “That wasn’t very helpful,” she said.
“Yeah, actually, it was.”
She looked over at me.
“No one on this planet would describe Barry Salazar as ‘skinny.’ The guy’s six-two, at least two hundred pounds. He may have hired someone, but it wasn’t him. Also, Norman doesn’t have a cell phone.”
“Yeah, well he’s homeless. That’s to be expected.”
“Then who do you think called 9-1-1?” I said.
CHAPTER 32
Stuart’s memorial service on Wednesday morning was the largest event I’ve attended since my college graduation. It was held in the Honolulu Convention Center and there were literally thousands of people there.
I was seated in the family section, but aside from Moko, Kepola, and Natalie I didn’t recognize anyone else sitting there. Moko’s son, Kiwi, and the other kids had been granted a ‘bye’ on attending the big service. They’d be attending a smaller family gathering later that week.
Various city officials gave eulogies along with friends and family members recounting poignant and sometimes funny stories about Stuart. Moko had asked me if I wanted to offer a few words but I declined. I’d only known my step-brother for a week; and for most of that time he’d been unconscious.
I kept going back to Stu’s final words: asking me to bring Natalie to see him. He’d been so anguished about wanting to see her. It broke my heart I hadn’t been able to grant his final wish.
After the service I went down to the park and gave Norman five one-hundred dollar bills. I’d had to go to the bank to get the money out of my account, and I hadn’t told anyone in the family what I was doing. I had a bad feeling Stu had been killed over money so explaining why I felt the need to make things right with the guy who’d tried to save him wasn’t something I wanted to do.
I found Norman at the beach end of the park this time. He was camped out under a tree, his shopping cart parked companionably near-by.
“Hey, Norman,” I said.
“Aloha, Ms. Moon.” He struggled a little to get up. It appeared Norman had been celebrating getting his reward money even before he actually had it in hand.
“Here’s your five hundred,” I said. I counted out the hundred dollar bills as I laid them in his palm.
Norman’s face darkened.
“Something wrong?” I said.
“Nah. It’s okay, I guess.” His voice told me it definitely wasn’t okay.
“What’s the problem?”
“I don’t know what to do with these,” he said. He tapped Benjamin Franklin’s face on the top hundred dollar bill.
“It’s money, Norman. You spend it.”
“No, I mean, it’s nice of you and all. But nobody’s gonna take a big bill like that from the likes of me.”
“Oh. Would it be better if I got these broken down into smaller denominations?”
His face lit up. “That’d be nice. I can’t go walking into no bank or nothin’. They’d throw me out; think I was wantin’ to use their wash room or somethin’.”
I nodded and turned to go. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”
“Oh, and when you get back, I’ll tell you something I forgot to say yesterday,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“You go get that money changed and I’ll tell you about it then.”
I got the feeling I was being played by a guy who drove a shopping cart and had a hankering for Jamba Juice.
The teller counted out ten twenty-dollar bills and thirty ten-dollar ones. She smiled but still asked to see my ID. I didn’t understand why ID should be necessary to change one form of cash into another, but maybe she thought my hundreds were drug money or lap dancing tips and I was attempting to launder them into something more respectable.
I headed back to the park and Norman was right where I’d left him.
“You did that real quick,” he said. He smiled and I saw he had an incisor missing. I guess the homeless don’t go in for semi-annual dental check-ups and cleaning.
I handed him the thick envelope of cash. He thumbed through the bills, probably counting them as he went.
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“That’s mo’ better,” he said. “Much obliged.”
“Now, what was it you were going to tell me?” I said.
“Oh, yeah, I nearly forgot again.”
If the guy was thinking he’d get another pay-off visit from me, he was out of luck. One’s my limit.
He rubbed his chin. “You ‘member me telling you about the skinny man I saw running away?”
I nodded.
“You ‘member me saying he had a hat on?”
Again, I nodded.
“I got a better recollection of it this morning.”
“You can describe the guy?”
“No, not so much that. But the hat. It was one of them baseball hats. You know, with the brim only in the front? I never cottoned to them myself. They don’t keep the sun off your neck.”
I waited. I’d already figured it was a baseball cap.
“Anyways, the dude had one of them on and when I yelled at him to come help me, he turned around. Jus’ for a second. Not long enough for me to make out a face or nuthin’.”
I was growing impatient. The reward money wasn’t really about buying information. I’d already decided to give it to Norman anyway. It was the right thing to do. But this was my last day on O’ahu. I resented Norman taking my time more than taking my money.
“Like I said, when he turned around I saw the front of the hat, real clear.”
“Did it have something on it? Like a logo or writing?”
“Yep. That’s what I ‘membered. It had a kind of star. Like a three-pointed star.” Norman held up a fist. Then he spread his thumb and first two fingers as far as they’d go. “Like that there.”
“A three-pointed star.”
“Yep. With a circle around it. It was white. The hat was a dark color but the star with the circle was white.”
***
I trotted back to my car and called Wendi Takeda. “Can you meet me at Starbucks?”
“I’m waiting on my editor. He’s in the building, but not at his desk. Give me ten minutes.” She paused as if she was about to hang up, then she said, “You got something for me?”
“Yep.”
“Something big?”
“Yep.”
“See you there in ten.”
When she got to the table I’d already gotten us each a coffee. I was in a celebratory mood.
“Mahalo for the coffee,” she said. “So, what’s your news?”
“Our pal, Norman, came through for us,” I said.
“How so?”
“He remembered the baseball cap the guy was wearing.”
“The guy who pushed your brother in the canal?” she said.
“Yeah. Who most probably was also the same guy Stu had a run-in with earlier in the bar. Robert Torstrick, the car dealer. Jason said Stu and Torstrick had gotten into a shoving match earlier that night.”
“That’s fantastic. What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to go out and see Natalie. I’m going to tell her everything we know and try to get her to go to the police. The way I’m figuring it is that maybe Torstrick acted alone or maybe he was sent there by Barry. Either way, the cops need to talk to him.”
“Why don’t you go to the police yourself? Why do you need Natalie?”
“Because she’s the grieving widow who just buried her husband yesterday. And she’s a Wilkerson and a Honolulu resident. They’ll be more likely to listen to her.”
“But you know that’s only half the story,” she said. “Maybe not even half. Maybe like a quarter.”
I took a sip of coffee.
“The real story is what ultimately killed your brother. The flesh-eating bacteria. Now that you’ve solved the part about who shoved him in, it’s my turn to rattle some cages about who’s responsible for his grisly death.”
I wasn’t thrilled to hear her describe Stuart’s death as ‘grisly’ but there was no way around it. It had been.
“What do you need from me?” I said.
“I need you to give me a heads-up when your sister-in-law goes to the police. I’d like to be there. I’ll take a photog with me to get a shot of the grief-stricken widow attempting to seek justice for the husband that all of Honolulu turned out for yesterday. Your brother’s memorial service was page one, above the fold. The timing on this couldn’t be better.”
Of course Wendi was only doing her job, but her glee struck me as more than a bit callous. I must’ve made a face because she jumped right in and continued. “You must think I’m awful, chortling over your brother’s death. I’m sorry. It’s just that my editor’s slapped my hand one too many times when I’ve tried to expose the kind of crap the city gets away with. Well, this time, the crap’s on them.”
“Literally,” I said.
She smiled. “Yeah. Sorry if I seem inappropriately delighted with the situation, but I’ll be forever in your debt.”
“Actually, in my brother’s debt. He was the sacrificial lamb.”
I took a sip of coffee and pondered the unfairness of it all.
***
Ten minutes later I was threading my way through the one-way streets of Queen Kapiolani Park on my way to Natalie’s house in Kahala.
I rehearsed the speech I was going to give her. I probably should’ve stayed back at Starbucks and sketched out a few notes so I wouldn’t forget something important, but I was riding a wave of elation at finally fitting the last piece in the puzzle. In that regard, I had no right to chastise Wendi for her delight in how things had turned out.
When I got to the house there was a car in the driveway blocking my entrance to the portico so I parked on the street.
I was still rehearsing my speech as I rapped on the door. Natalie’s sister, Yvonne, answered the door and stared at me like a guilty child. Like I was going to rat her out or something.
“Excuse me, miss,” I said. “Is Natalie Wilkerson at home?” I used my best never saw you before voice.
She bobbed her head in a short bow and stepped back to allow me to come in.
“Natalie,” I cried out. “It’s me, Pali.”
There was a shallow rattan basket in the foyer where Natalie had shucked off her shoes and sandals as she’d come indoors over the past few days. There must’ve been a half-dozen pairs in there, along with a pair of sunglasses.
I noticed it because I wondered why Yvonne hadn’t returned Natalie’s shoes to her closet.
I bent down to take off my own slippas and toss them in the basket. I took off the first one and then I saw something that made my rehearsed speech die in my throat.
CHAPTER 33
When Natalie came into the foyer I stepped forward and put my hand lightly on her shoulder. She shrugged a bit as if to try to shake me off so I clamped down harder.
“First off, I haven’t had a chance to tell you one-on-one how sorry I am for your loss,” I said.
She glared at me as if assessing my sincerity. “I’m fine. Actually, it’s probably for the best. Stuart would’ve been mortified if he’d awakened and found his leg missing. This way, at least he got spared that.”
I pointed at the blue Mercedes cap in the rattan basket. “Isn’t that Stu’s hat?” I didn’t wait for her to answer before I reached down and picked it up.
“I guess. We each got one when we bought our cars. But I never wear mine. I don’t even know where it is.”
“Do you know a guy by the name of Robert Torstrick?”
“Isn’t he the guy on the car commercials?”
“Was he involved with Stuart in any business dealings? Beyond Stu buying a car from him, I mean.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What is this, twenty questions? What gives you the right to come to my home the day after I put my husband in the ground and badger me like this?”
“Look, Natalie. I’m not badgering you. I just got some information that may help us get to the bottom of what happened to Stuart.”
“Oh.”
“There’s a witness who saw a guy in a
hat like this near the canal when Stu got pushed in.”
“Pushed in?” she said. “I thought the police said he fell in.”
“Yeah, well I don’t think he did. I think somebody knocked him in the water.”
“But what does it matter?” she said. Her eyes flared in what could have been mistaken for anger but I was pretty sure was her way of expressing grief. She’d held up at the memorial service like a trooper. No tears, merely a stoic dignity that paid homage to her upbringing.
“I’m still a widow, aren’t I? I’m still pregnant with a dead man’s baby.” She covered her face with her hands in the first display of emotion I’d seen since that first day in the hospital.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to upset you. But I promised myself that before I left Honolulu I’d find out how Stuart ended up in that canal. Now I’m pretty sure I know.”
“What difference does it make?” she said. Her words came out flat, staccato—like pennies being flipped into a pile of rocks. “Stuart’s dead. And he didn’t drown. So, even if he got pushed, which the police say he didn’t, so what? He died from the crap in the water. Everybody knows that.”
“True. But I’m still going to the police. This is a chicken and egg situation, Natalie.”
“Huh?”
“If Stuart hadn’t been pushed in the canal, he wouldn’t have come in contact with the sewage. There are almost a million people in Honolulu and nobody else has died from the sewage in the canal except Stuart. Don’t you see? The guy who injured him and then shoved him in the water is responsible for his death, not the city.”
“But the city polluted the water! The city has to take responsibility for killing my husband.”
I figured Natalie had probably already gotten a dozen calls from ambulance-chasing lawyers itching to take her case. Nothing I could say would change that.
“I realize this isn’t a good time to talk about this. But would you agree to at least go with me to the police station? It won’t affect your case against the city. In fact it might help.”
“If I agree to go with you to the police will you go back to Maui and let me grieve in peace?” she said.
“Absolutely.”
05-O'ahu Lonesome Tonight? Page 17