Ito dismissed this with a grin. “Nothing poisonous. There is so much rain at the higher altitudes that the stream spreads out all through this area. It’s mostly swamp, but by day you will see some of the most incredible blossoms and flowering trees through there. Don’t go dashing into the area, though. There are ways, trails—like this lava path. Ah! I told you it wasn’t far. Look ahead and to the right. Higher. The path rises steeply here for a minute or two, but at the top and on the right you can see the two screened lanais at the rear of Stephen Giles’s house, one on each floor. We’d have called them balconies back in L.A.”
I gaped at the sight. The view from those lanais plunged straight down into the wild, swampy growth far below. We were silent for a few seconds and again I heard the little rustling sounds all around us. Everywhere serpent branches and roots—one as bad as the other—twisted and writhed, even overhead. The still-bright sky above was concealed from us by the intertwined branches and leaves. Everything rustled; nothing was still.
“The place seems so alive,” I commented, as Ito Nagata obviously expected me to say something.
I was saved from further comment, which doubtless would have insulted his beloved Hawaii, by the approach of a huge, almost black Hawaiian man coming down the steeply sloping path to us.
“Kalanimoku!” Ito called. “I am back with the lady, as you see. Has Mr. Giles called? This is Kalanimoku, Judith. Butler and majordomo of the island. He likes to be called ‘Moku,’ for short.”
“Stephen called,” said the Hawaiian, a man of imposing girth and what appeared to be solemn dignity until he smiled, which was frequently. He had a wonderful smile. “He said he would try to return sometime tonight. He also told us to expect the lovely young lady. His very words, miss.”
I was embarrassed but certainly not displeased and thanked Kalanimoku, “Moku, for short.” It did my ego a great deal of good, after years of thinking how very old I was growing, to have everyone refer to me as a young lady. The Hawaiian took my baggage and looked as though he could have carried a few steamer trunks besides. In that semidarkness he was easily seen, for he wore an aloha shirt of astounding, variegated flowers, a pair of white slacks that must have been specially ordered to fit him, and gold-colored sandals. In spite of his outfit, he still managed to look very like a photograph I had seen of the statue of King Kamehameha in front of the Iolani Palace.
We passed the side of Sandalwood, Stephen Giles’s grand old wooden family home, as we reached the top of the little trail that wound onward past cabins I could faintly see, half concealed in thick foliage beyond the house. What was it that Ito Nagata had told me about a tourist village, left unfinished due to bad luck? Superstition again. These cabins were all dark. Clearly, no one occupied them. As we went around to the broad front of the Giles house, I could hear the rushing waters of a stream somewhere, probably on the far side. I wondered if the stream plunged down into that swampy morass below the two lanais at the back of the house. I hoped it would look more inviting by daylight.
There were Japanese lanterns strung along the front of the house, giving a festive air to the little clearing. Beyond was the darkness of the forest and those unfinished cottages. No, not a forest. Probably what Ito would call a thicket. I was beginning to understand very well why a girl Deirdre’s age should need a housekeeper to care for her husband’s estate. But she had also lived for years in exclusive schools with no parental guidance and no authority beyond that of the busy and indifferent courts. She had no way of knowing how to handle this kind of situation.
I forced my thoughts to a more cheerful direction.
“Here we are, Miss Cameron,” Moku announced with a magnificent gesture of welcome.
From the long, shallow veranda I stepped through a small entry into a living room that occupied the west front of the old wooden house. Sandalwood must have been a splendid house at the turn of the century when such Victorian structures were still much admired. The high walls were beautifully papered in a green-and-gold motif of pagodas and exquisite Oriental figures. Curiously enough, both mandarins and willowy Japanese females in kimonos and huge obis appeared along the walls. I wondered whose idea that was. Although well cared for, the wallpaper appeared very old and probably could never be duplicated. The room was so long and elaborately furnished, I suspected it was only used for parties, perhaps in conjunction with luaus out in the area in front of the house. Nor was it well lighted at this moment—there was just one hanging lamp in the shape of a Japanese lantern on a chain at the far end of the room to give us any light.
Dr. Nagata took my arm, and I followed Kalanimoku through the dark, narrow central hall. Suddenly, a door near the far end of the hall opened from a lighted room. An extraordinary silhouette appeared in that light, which cast a deep bar of brightness across the mat carpeting the hall floor. What appeared to be a gigantic red hibiscus bush stood there staring at us, expressionless. This woman in the hibiscus-flowered holoku was nearly six feet tall and must have weighed well over two hundred pounds—she looked solid and regal. Her heavy black hair was worn severely back from a forbidding and intelligent wide forehead. The chocolate-colored eyes, darkly outlined, reminded me of a magnificent cobra who had once out-stared me in a San Francisco aquarium.
I whispered to Ito, “Someone out of Captain Cook’s journals?”
“She’s mighty important among the purebloods across the island. Stephen borrowed her to run things until you could get here. She did it as a favor, but she is no servant.” Then, he called loudly, “Good evening, Ilima. This is Miss Cameron, Mrs. Giles’s aunt, who is going to take some of that load off your shoulders. Judith, Ilima is Moku’s wife, the queen of Ili-Ahi, and one of the last descendants of Queen Liliuokalani’s family.”
I can’t say I was reassured by this information. My knees had a strong inclination to sink in a curtsy, which I would have been expected to perform, had I been in Hawaii in 1893 when the last queen was deposed for American political expediency. I worked up a wide smile and was grateful when I saw the flash of her large, even teeth when she greeted me.
“I am glad to meet you, Miss Cameron. You have arrived in very good time to help us. It is fortunate that you are a mature woman. You will perhaps know what to do.”
I looked to Ito Nagata for an explanation, but I could see that this was a mystery to him as well. Mrs. Moku offered her hand which I took quickly.
“You will want your baggage taken to your quarters first, Miss Cameron, and will perhaps wish to change your shoes.”
This last puzzled me considerably, but she led me away from Ito and the huge butler, her husband.
I caught a glimpse of tree tops and enormous leaves beyond the lower floor lanai before she ushered me up the stairs to the room assigned to me. Throughout the house I noticed the odd odor of dampness, wet leaves, decomposition, mud, and then, unexpectedly again, the strong scent of tropic flowers. Fortunately, I had also the delicious and comforting odor of the flower leis Ito had given me. I started to address my companion by her full name and for the first time since I had met her, I think she was amused.
“I am called Ilima. It is easier. Here is your bed-sitting room. You are only one door away from the upper lanai at the back of the house. This window across the room looks out upon the trail by which you came here. If you look to your right you will see the emu in the ground in front of the house. That is for roasting the pig for the luau. Stephen thought you might not like the direct view of the gulch on the other side of the house opposite your room. From that side by daylight you can see the waters of the Ili-Ahi River, several tributaries running on down into the swampy area below the lanais. I hope your room is satisfactory.”
I looked around. A comfortable bed with a headboard; an old-fashioned and so-handy three-mirrored French dresser; a small round table of inexpensive but beautiful rosewood; a comfortable, slightly shabby couch with wicker sides that looked as though they might tear one’s stockings, except that no one wore stockings here in
Hawaii. There was also a charming table lamp with a brass teapot base.
I felt a small stab of pain as I recognized the lamp. It had belonged to my mother. Deirdre must have kept it with her at the exclusive girls school to which the courts had consigned her after my trial.
But why was it in my room now? Was it Deirdre’s idea? I hoped that it was. I cleared my throat to conceal any signs of emotion.
“What a very unusual little lamp!”
Ilima stared at it. “A haole design.” I knew that haole referred to foreigners and assumed this was meant as a derogatory comment. She added, “Such things are of the missionary sort.”
“Yes, very.” I began to unbutton my coat, a well-fitted, coachman style popular a couple of years back. One of the matrons had chosen it for me when I became housekeeper in the office of the female warden we referred to as the “Super,” a very understanding woman. I tried to sound noncommittal. “So the family is descended from missionaries.”
“No. But the little lamp—” I felt rather than heard her pause. It was almost nonexistent. “—it has been in Mr. Giles’s family for some years. I thought it suitable in here.”
Not so, I thought. You take possessions and pass them around as if Deirdre had nothing to say in her own household, but there were still those who cared about her.
“You will be tired, but we need you badly, Miss Cameron. May we see you as soon as possible?”
“Certainly. At once, if you like.” All this haste suggested a crisis of some kind. “I had better see my niece first. I rather expected her to meet me.” This must have been perfectly obvious to her. Was Deirdre ill?
“Would ten minutes be agreeable to you?” she asked. “Everything will be explained.” Her remark did not reassure me. She left, passing her husband, Moku, in the hall. He brought up my bags, which seemed odd. If there was a lordly “butler” here, there certainly must be boys to carry my suitcases. I asked him as he was leaving, “What other rooms are on this floor?”
“The family bedrooms, ma’am. Not that there is much of the family left. Steve—Mr. Stephen—has the small front bedroom and bath on the other side. Mrs. Giles has the front suite across from him, two doors beyond this one. But she prefers to spend a great deal of her time in the room opposite.” He pointed across the hall.
“But why does she have two—?” My question was so abrupt I hardly recognized my voice, and it was not my business. But apparently Deirdre and her husband did not share a bedroom or even a suite, and still she had another room where she spent much of her time.
Moku shrugged his great shoulders.
“She seems a very young lady. She likes to disappear. These are called pranks. Excuse me, but ‘pranks’—that is the word that people use. It is an old word that my mother used, not suitable to a modern young lady at all. Anyway, my daughter Kekua is her friend, and she tells me that Mrs. Stephen plays jokes. Several times she has tried to go off to Honolulu alone. That could be dangerous. Mr. Stephen does not always know. He used to visit Honolulu once a week until the strike deadlock on the docks. Now, he must visit there several times in the week. But it would be dangerous for Mrs. Stephen to try to go alone. She cannot seem to understand how to run the motor in any of the boats. My daughter is a real veteran at running the motorboats across the bay but she cannot teach Mrs. Steve. Mr. Stephen also tries to teach her, and to see that she swims well, in case—but...”
“No,” I agreed weakly, remembering times that seemed to me very long ago. “Deirdre liked the pools but never learned to swim very well. She wasn’t fond of learning. But then, she was always so ... dear, and we never wanted to force her.”
Moku looked away, avoiding my eye. “Yes. I think everyone must love the little lady, even my Kekua, who once had a childish crush upon Mr. Steve. But that was before ... Well, can we expect you in a few minutes?”
I told him I would be down immediately and then, when he left, I found myself locking the door. Recalling where I was, I turned the simple skeleton key to unlock it and put away my suitcases, still packed, in the closet. There was an adjoining bathroom, a barn-sized room obviously used as a bedroom or perhaps a sitting room in the old days. It had a modern porcelain toilet, but the bathtub was large enough to drown in, and stood high above the floor on gaudily carved legs. I loved it. I only wished I might plunge into a tub-full of hot water at once, to rest and relax. I was exceedingly tense. And I was worried.
Three
I took a couple of minutes to recover that calm Ito Nagata had imagined he saw in me at our afternoon meeting. Then I went down to meet Ilima Moku. I chose the front staircase, however, still hoping that I would see Deirdre somewhere, that some door would be open in this empty house and she would come dashing out in her impetuous way. The place seemed deserted. The wide front stairs had one landing at the turn and creaked madly. I announced my presence by footsteps that seemed even noisier because there were no others to echo them.
I met Ilima in a remarkably pleasant kind of all-purpose family room at the back of the house opposite the big kitchen, the serving pantry, and the dining room across the hall. Because of the intense growth of foliage everywhere around the house, the light from two table lamps brought two pools of golden light to this “family sitting room.” I guessed that elsewhere on this or other islands in the state it would still be dusk, with the orange and Vermillion post-sunset light still giving a semblance of day to the world. Ilima and her husband were both there, obviously waiting only for my arrival, and I was startled to find a young woman, who was also present. She was still breathless and Moku explained that she, Kekua, had been running to “report” to them.
Kekua was a lush, gorgeous girl with her mother’s great earth-brown eyes, which were unreadable, and a figure whose rich, dark curves would have delighted readers of Playboy magazine. She was clearly more modern than her mother and father, but the royal blood of Hawaii was evidently still present, even though she wore a miniskirt and what appeared to be a bikini top that was far from adequate to fill its purpose.
“Kekua grew up with Stephen,” Ilima explained and I remembered the girl’s father saying that his daughter had a “crush” on Stephen Giles. But Kekua, flashing her father’s magnificent smile, corrected them now as we were introduced.
“I didn’t exactly grow up with him. I happen to be ten years younger, but we all played together, Steve and the rest of us in the village. Matter of fact, once or twice Steve earned money babysitting for me. He wasn’t too crazy about it, and I must have been a brat, but Mrs. Giles didn’t believe in allowances. It was work or no money,” she laughed. “And now we work for him! How’s that for the world turned upside-down?” Moku cut in gently, “Kekua, we can talk about this later, after we find Mrs. Steve.”
It seemed odd to hear them talk of my niece as “Mrs. Steve.” She had always seemed so childlike, but of course, I hadn’t really known her after she was twelve.
“I suppose we’d better get with it,” Kekua agreed. “But we’ve been combing the island. Poor Yee—that’s the Korean cook—” she explained to me, “he and two of our men from the village are wandering through the Ili-Ahi gulch behind the house here.”
So we had finally reached the crucial matter after all this awkward rambling. But possibly they didn’t know how deeply I was involved with anything that concerned Deirdre.
“Is she lost? Was she out walking?” I asked them all. “Please tell me! I am her aunt, you know. There are no other close relatives. Where should I start?” I looked from one to the other. Ridiculously, I felt as if I were ready for a quick sprint out the door, as if the woman they had been searching for was still a child of five or six.
Her husband and daughter looked to Ilima as their spokesman. The massive and queenly woman straightened a little.
“Yes, Miss Cameron. We didn’t like to tell Stephen. He is so busy with this waterfront deadlock.”
“It may go either way tonight,” her husband put in. “So we thought, since you knew young M
rs. Steve well and all...”
“Yes, yes! Please!”
Maddeningly, they all looked at me again. Ilima said, “Everyone from Sandalwood is out scouring the island. The servants here, and my own people from the village. We thought you might know how the young lady behaved—the kinds of places she hid—when she was in your care.”
I walked up and down the room, trying to pull my thoughts together, to remember.
“She ran away as a child when there were problems, but I did begin to understand something of her thinking. I always found her. But you see, I don’t know any of the hiding places...” Remembering the old days, I rephrased this. “I mean—any of the safe places on the island. Where did she go when this happened before?”
“We’ve covered that,” Kekua put in brusquely. “A little glade across the island on the trail to our village. It’s below Mt. Liholiho. There’s a series of falls, and the falls run into the river. But she wasn’t there this afternoon.”
Finally I understood the “problem” Ilima had mentioned to me when I arrived. But the idea of trying to find a Deirdre determined not to be found, on an island full of jungles, falls, mountains, and unknown if nonpoisonous insects was appalling.
“Can you tell me why she went off by herself today? It might help if I knew what triggered this.”
Kekua shrugged. “I’d been to Honolulu looking for a job. Steve was busy; so I talked to his office manager and then caught the noon plane to Kaiana. I operated the motor across the bay for two passengers. Paying passengers.” She told me confidentially, “I pick up a little mad money like that now and then. One of the men was a fascinating haole and...” She stopped as if she found it hard to picture the other man. “The other was younger. I took them to see Deirdre, but she wasn’t in the house. It’s funny, because Mother had seen her only half an hour before.”
The House at Sandalwood Page 3