by Kay Hadashi
“Which is why he’s dead? Someone murdered him solely because he irritated them?” Melanie asked.
“Hold that thought. You said the circumstances of his death were very similar to those of the Winston kid, right?”
“Devastating head and chest injuries most likely from a boat, suffered while out surfing, then drifted ashore. Their surfboards were from the same rental shop, and they both lived in Kihei, living an adult nightlife lifestyle. But so far, they can’t be linked to actually knowing each other. Nor does the second one seem to have anything to do with the recent appearance of Hawaiian artifacts on auction sites. Any word on that stuff?” she asked.
Thérèse returned to the bed, handing over a popsicle, hers already half-eaten.
“There have been bids, but not nearly as high was what you paid. We’ve been able to identify the bidders. Mostly just collectors looking for bargains, nothing too sinister about them, even if they were using a dishonest system to get the stuff. But we can’t quite trace the seller. They have some sort of elaborate firewall that reroutes our attempts at obtaining a true IP location. That’s not the only problem.”
Melanie took the grape-flavored treat from her mouth. “Oh?”
“We’ve been trying to locate the source of these most recent items. There have been no police reports for thefts of anything like them, and we can’t match these things with the inventory of Hawaii museums. Nobody seems to know anything about the stuff, except that it appears authentic.”
“You said a close examination of the images posted online indicates the things are dirty, or at least haven’t been cleaned professionally, right?”
“Just as though they were recently found, and the finder didn’t want to invest in the effort or money for proper preservation. Are there places on Maui where people can go relic hunting for Hawaiian artifacts?”
“Ostensibly, yes. What’s already in museums was in private ownership before it was donated. But almost all those kinds of things--spears, battle clubs, bows and arrows--either were buried with the warrior who used it, or were destroyed, usually in a ceremonial fire. The ali’i were hidden in caves with their feather cloaks over their bones, and their kahili standards were either passed on to the next ali’i or burned. There really isn’t much left from the ancient Hawaiian days. That’s why the stuff is so collectible, and so valuable. These things can’t be replicated because the birds that made the feathers are extinct, much of the forests that provided the wood for the arrows and clubs are gone, and the obsidian used for the best of the spear and arrowheads is nearly gone and what remains is protected.”
“Where could these things be found?” Bruce asked.
She handed over her melting popsicle to Thérèse to finish. “Somebody might’ve found a cave, or a series of caves where the island ali’i or ancient warriors were entombed. The Hawaiian elite were often cremated, or their bodies deboned. The bones would be wrapped in tapa cloth and then hidden in caves and lava tubes by the kahuna, who kept the location secret. Sometimes their most prized possessions were put there with them. Maybe somebody stumbled across one of these caves and has been pilfering it?”
“Which would be a Class C felony. Everybody knows there is a huge black market for historical items, and Hawaiiana is not exempt. Egypt, China, India, and tribal regions of North America have all been extensively looted. Most of the stuff goes into private collections, which is probably what’s happening with your stuff from Maui.”
She remembered what Nakatani had told her the day before, about a joint task force between Maui police and the FBI, setting up a sting to catch the people responsible, and to stay out of it. Once again, it was hard being obedient. “Unless I buy it and have it returned,” she said.
“It depends on how important it is to you that those things are returned, and if you’re willing to be considered complicit in the crime.”
“I didn’t steal the stuff.”
“But you bought the first lot that was put up for auction. Even if you pled ignorance as to its origin, ignorance is no defense. Any collector would know how old these things are and how difficult it is to find something available. They’d certainly know enough to realize that they were dealing with the black market.”
“So, I’ve already committed a felony?” she asked.
“When you bought the original group from the auction, yes. And then you tried to hide it by using a false identity, even having it sent to a location other than yourself.”
“Well, going to prison for a while is one way of getting out of being mayor,” she said, more to herself.
“You said that MPD detective already knows it was you who made the purchase, but hasn’t pressed any charges?” he asked.
“Yes, but he made it sound like he was being reluctant about it. He also made it sound like he didn’t share that info with the FBI.”
“Let me dig for a while more, no pun intended. I might be able to sidetrack what the Bureau is doing and lead them off in a different direction than to you.”
“That would be great. I really don’t want to go to prison.”
“I learned a few things about that Ozzie Simpson character, and you’re not going to like it.”
“I suppose he’s as innocent as a newborn lamb?” she asked.
“Just the opposite.” Bruce listed the offenses and the jail time the man had done. “The thing is, your name is associated with his.”
“Mine? Why?”
“Do you remember an incident of riding in a car when you were sixteen years old, pulled over when the driver was weaving in traffic on the highway near a place called Olowalu?”
“Ah, crap. I knew that would come back to haunt me someday. That was Ozzie, some flunky dropout that hung out at the beach all the time. I think he gave me a ride home one day, I don’t remember why. After spilling beer on me, he began to swerve in his lane, and then got pulled over for it. Since he was eighteen but still too young to have beer, he was arrested. But the police believed me and gave me a ride home. Boy, I really caught it from my mom that time. And it went on for a week, if I remember correctly. But I thought that since I was a juvenile then, my name would be redacted from the official court records?”
“It was. You were listed as MK in court records. But digging a little, I was able to find a digital copy of the original citation and report by the arresting officer, who had the girl’s name incorrectly listed as Melinda Kato. It didn’t take much to put two and two together.”
“Great. Now my name is linked to some dope potentially involved in a murder investigation.”
“I think I have a way of fixing that,” Bruce said.
“Is it legal?”
“Not even close.”
“Then why did you tell me?” she griped.
Bruce chuckled. “Tell you what? Don’t worry about it. Let me dig a little more into this Ozzie fellow’s life and see what I can come up with. I might be able to find credit or debit purchases made at stores that Winston patronized, at the same time and date. You said Ozzie was a surf instructor. Maybe he was the one who gave Winston the lessons? That would link them together. And if I were able to put them together doing the same things at nearly the same time and same places on the nights of the thefts, and of his death, that would implicate the kid too much, even for the Bureau to ignore.”
“Well, if it’s after ten o’clock tonight, call Nakatani directly with whatever you find. I have stuff to do tomorrow, and it won’t involve murders, feather kahili, or even surfboards.”
Once she got well wishes from Bruce, someone she considered a friend even though she’d never met him in person, she ended the call but kept the phone in her hand.
Thérèse was just finishing both frozen treats at the end of the call. Her lips were tinged orange and purple.
“Hey, little one. How’s your throat?”
“It’s okay.”
“Let me see inside.”
The girl opened up wide and Melanie used the light from her phone to look
inside. As a thoracic and vascular surgeon, she was no expert on throats, but it looked okay to her.
“Does swallowing hurt?”
“A little.”
“You need to eat some real food. Maybe after a nap we can get Daddy to make us some lunch?”
“Peanut sammich?”
“That might be too sticky for your throat. Maybe you guys can look for something to eat in the pea patch outside? But first, it’s naptime.”
“Nother nap already?”
“I’m afraid so. You have to get that throat nice and strong for when you go to preschool on Monday, and I need to get rest for tomorrow.”
“I really gotta go?” the girl asked.
“You don’t want to? There will be other kids there to play with.” Thérèse wasn’t buying it, so Melanie pulled out an old trick her mother used on her many years before. “I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve heard preschool is a lot of fun.”
“I got you and Daddy to play with. And Aunt Addie.”
“Well, Daddy goes back to school on Monday, and I go back to work in a few weeks. You know we can’t stay home forever. And Aunt Addie has to go home pretty soon.”
“Why for she gotta go home?”
“Because she lives somewhere else, remember?”
“She on vation?” the girl asked.
“On vacation? Not really.” Maybe it was time for the truth. “You see, her son used to live here, but he died. Addie came here to take him home.”
Thérèse seemed to give the idea a lot of thought.
“He’s dead guy now?”
“Yes, but there are nicer ways of saying it than that. That’s why we have to be nice to Addie, and why we’re letting her stay with us for a few days. One of these days, she’ll have to go home.”
“That’s why she’s sad sometimes?”
“Sure is. And when she’s in her room, we need to leave her alone, okay?”
After prying an agreement from her daughter, Melanie waited until she was asleep to make her next call to Cassandra, her Secret Service protection, someone who supposedly shadowed her activities on the island.
“Tomorrow at noon, right?” Cassandra asked.
“Almost exactly twenty-four hours from right now. It wouldn’t break my heart if contractions started and the kid came flying out five minutes from now, but yes, noon tomorrow. That’s when my OB starts the induction. I have to be there an hour early.”
“I should pick you up at eleven?”
“We can get there on our own.”
“Just this once. Let me make a show of it. I need to put the Escalade to good use. Why not take the mayor to the hospital to have her baby?”
“Okay, fine. Josh is too distracted lately to drive in a straight line. He’d probably get lost taking me there.”
“Thérèse and Adelaide going with you?”
“You know about Addie?” Melanie asked.
“Of course. She checks out as okay. That’s the only reason I’ve let her stay with you.”
“How did you know her name?”
“From fingerprints on a water bottle she discarded.”
“So sneaky. But I called about something else.” Melanie explained about the case of the stolen artifacts and how Addie’s dead son might be implicated. “Can you do me a favor and check into the son’s background a little? And also about the history of the original artifacts? It would help the police in their investigation.”
Cassandra promised to look into it using a federal government server, and would bring a report to the house later that evening.
Josh came in to change his clothes.
“Going to the airport to pick up your mother?” she asked.
“Her flight is due to land in about an hour.”
“Bringing her back here?”
“Where else would I take her?” he asked, tossing his shirt into the hamper.
“I have a little list of places, if you’d like to see it?”
“I’m sure you do. Throwing my mother off the top of the Iao Needle is not an option. Not for a few days, anyway. Would it hurt you to call her Mom?”
“Yes. I’m sticking with Dottie when she’s in the room, and when I start calling her Dorothy, it’s time to take her for a walk. Or at least get her out of my reach.”
“Other than being a little overbearing at times, there’s nothing wrong with my mother.”
“A little overbearing? She was going behind my back while I was at work to change how things were done here in my house, Josh. She’s brought meat into the house, and tried getting Thérèse baptized at church behind my back while I was at work, even after I told her not to. Now, I don’t mind if she wants to help change diapers and bathe the baby, but we make decisions about us, not her. Otherwise, she can use that round-trip ticket to go home again. Or to a place on my list.”
“She said something about getting a one-way ticket this time.”
“What?” she said loud enough to stir Thérèse from sleep.
“Somehow, she heard we hadn’t found a nanny yet and is selecting herself for that role.”
“And I’m deselecting her. She can be here for a few weeks, or until we hire someone, then she’s out. If she wants to stay on Maui, she needs to find some other place to live than our house. And yes, I’m perfectly willing to tell her that myself.”
“As you always say, be nice to her,” Josh said, as he finished dressing.
Melanie sighed. She knew he was right, that his mother only wanted to be helpful. “I’ll be nice as long as she doesn’t start directing things at the hospital tomorrow.”
“I will personally duct-tape her to a chair in the maternity waiting room. What about Addie? Did she say anything about going home soon? Once Mom moves in, we’ll have a full house.”
“That’s up to the police, when they release her son’s body from evidence.” It was dawning on Melanie right then how she could use one woman against the other as wedges to get both of them out. “Once the baby starts to cry at night, I’m sure she’ll find another place to stay.”
“Speaking of Addie,” he said quietly, sitting right next to Melanie. “I found her outside a little while ago burning some stuff. “You know what that’s all about?”
“What stuff?”
“Papers. I asked her what she was doing, what all that was, and she just muttered something about bad memories of Kenny.”
“Was it next to the house where she might burn the place down?” Melanie asked.
“No, just in that old barbecue near the pea patch. It was just a couple minutes before she was done.”
“Maybe it was…” Melanie stopped, but wondered if their houseguest was burning some of the letters she’d written to her son, that the memories they brought were too difficult to deal with.
Interrupting her idea was a knock at the back door.
“Who could that be?” Melanie asked.
Josh kissed Melanie and Thérèse goodbye and went to see who was there. Melanie tried listening, but couldn’t hear the other voice well enough to figure out who it was. When she heard the back screen door slap shut and Josh’s SUV start up, followed by clattering sounds in the kitchen, she knew she wasn’t alone.
Melanie picked up her phone, ready to hit the panic button that sent a message to Cassandra. Footsteps came through the house. “Hello?” she called out.
“Just me. Okay if I come in?”
Melanie relaxed again. “Hi, Lai. Yeah, come on in, if you dare. The place is a mess and I’m even worse.”
“It’s not so bad. I brought flowers for you and popsicles for Thérèse.”
“Oh, good, more popsicles.” After telling her friend Lailanie where to find a vase, she waited for her to come back. “Not busy at the salon today?”
“I told them I was going on a long lunch break. They’ll survive. How’s her throat?”
“She’s fine. Whenever she wakes up, I make her eat a popsicle and nap again. She’ll be good as new tomorrow.”
“What
about the expectant mother?” Lailanie asked.
“She’s a wreck. I haven’t bathed since yesterday, I’m living on popsicles and peanut butter, and I just insulted Josh’s mother, and she’s not even in the room.”
“Yeah, mothers-in-law. Can’t live with them, and can’t live without them. But we sure find ways of trying to get rid of them, huh?”
Melanie laughed. “Got that right. Did you come for a reason?”
“Just checking on you. Duane wants to know if we can come to the hospital tomorrow?”
“To join the growing entourage? I don’t know why you’d want to.”
“Just old service buddies supporting each other. You buy stuff from his hardware store and fixed his hernia. He said the least he can do is be there for you when you bring another little warrior into the world.”
Thérèse stirred awake and peeked out at their guest.
“Auntie Lai, are you here to fix Momma’s hair?”
“No, but she needs it, huh? Are you ready for a popsicle?”
The girl winced. “Nother one?”
“Maybe it’s time for a sandwich. I bet we could talk Auntie into making us one,” Melanie said. Once she got help up from bed, she went to the bathroom while the other two went to the kitchen. Instead of joining them right away, she took a shower and put on fresh clothes. “What did she make you?”
“Mater and mayor sammich.”
Melanie looked at Lailanie for an explanation.
“Tomato and mayonnaise on wheat bread. I wasn’t sure what to make, but that seemed like it should be easy to chew and swallow.” Lailanie picked up her purse, ready to leave. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Other than A-B-D-U-C-T-I-N-G my M-I-L, no. Thanks, though.”
“You’ll bring the baby in next week?” Lailanie asked. “Everybody at the salon chipped in and we bought something for Sophia.”