The Green Room

by Deborah Turrell Atkinson

  “Did Goober tell you to come after me?” Storm asked. Someone had given her hot chocolate in a heavy paper cup. It was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

  “Who’s Goober?” one of the medical people asked.

  “The guy on the jet ski.” But Storm could tell by their expressions they didn’t know him. “How’d the helicopter find me?”

  “A City and County surfboard shot into the air, then washed toward the beach. It wasn’t supposed to be out there, plus the leash was broken. So we started looking for a rider.”

  “Did you see a jet ski?” Storm asked.

  “An unauthorized one? No,” one person answered, but Storm had everyone’s attention.

  She told them how Goober had taken one from a City and County storage shed and rescued her from a cave. The rest of their questions were the same ones she wanted to ask Goober. She didn’t know any of the answers.

  “We’ve got to find him,” she said.

  One emergency technician, a woman, frowned at her. “You don’t want to hang around a guy who’d leave you in twenty foot surf, especially with that board.”

  “He didn’t have a choice.”

  Storm could tell from her grunt she didn’t agree.

  “Those tankers aren’t made for big waves,” another tech said. “You didn’t actually surf that thing, did you?”

  Storm nodded. The techs stared. Finally one of them spoke softly. “You’re damned lucky, you know that?”

  Storm swallowed hard. Her hand unconsciously went to her neck, where she still wore Aunt Maile’s little pig charm, which, unlike certain articles of clothing, had stayed with her. She knew she’d been very, very lucky.

  Chapter Forty-one

  “Could I make a couple of phone calls?” Storm asked.

  Someone handed her a phone and she punched in Hamlin’s cell number.

  His voice was ragged with worry. “Storm, where are you?”

  “On the beach, in the medical tent. Where are you?”

  “Leaving Sunny’s house. Are you all right? What happened?”

  “I’m all right. I’ll tell you when you get here.”

  Storm’s next call was to Brian Chang. He was out in the field, but she left a message for him, then one for Detectives Ursley and Yamamoto.

  When Hamlin burst into the tent, she was having a third cup of hot chocolate and wearing one of the contest’s logo T-shirts in a long-sleeved style. The Intrepid blazed across her chest in orange. Underneath, except for the emerald-eyed pig, she was nude, which felt a lot better than her clammy bathing suit bottoms and stiff, salt-encrusted hair.

  Hamlin hugged her hard, let her go for a few minutes to listen to her story, then grabbed her again. One of the EMTs filled in with the part about the C & C rescue board, which had prompted the helicopter to look for a rider not entered in the contest. No one had seen an old City & County jet ski.

  “Ian,” Storm muffled into his shoulder, “could we go back to the cottage? I want a hot bath and dry clothes.”

  Hamlin went after his car, and bundled her in. He wrapped her in a big towel from her beach bag, which he’d been carrying around since she disappeared. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m tired, but I’m okay. Hamlin, I was really frightened, but I was even madder than I was scared. I wish I’d seen who did this to me.”

  Hamlin’s eyes glinted with fury, and he was about to respond when Storm’s cell phone rang. She dug it out of the beach bag. “Hi Brian, I’m glad you got my message. It’s got to be the same person who killed Nahoa. I think it might be O’Reilly.”

  “Why do you say that?” Brian asked.

  “Goober told me to talk to him.”

  “Storm, sit tight. Leila, Robbie, and I will be there in a few hours. Meanwhile, I’ll get hold of someone in the North Shore Patrol District to come take a report.”

  Storm hung up and snuggled next to Hamlin. “All I want is a hot bath and to know that Goober is okay.”

  “I want to find the asshole who did this to you.” Though he kept his eyes on the road, she could see the simmering rage in his narrow gaze.

  “Me, too.” Storm frowned. “Word is going to get out that Goober rescued me, and he’s going to be the next target.”

  “The police will find Goober,” Hamlin said. He looked over at her. “Unless he doesn’t want to be found.”

  Storm chewed her lip. “He risked his life to come after me. He’s not going to leave town.”

  “You’re sure? He’s a kid who avoids authority.”

  “He’ll help.”

  Hamlin still looked doubtful. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I hope he’s safe.”

  The car’s dashboard clock read 5:14. It would be dark in an hour, and Kamehameha Highway was clogged with departing spectators. Storm chewed a hangnail and observed Hamlin hunched over the steering wheel as if he could will the traffic to move faster.

  Maybe they needed to think about something else. “What happened with the surf contest? Is everyone else okay?”

  Hamlin leaned back, but tapped one hand on the wheel impatiently. “Kimo Hitashi is leading, but one of the Australians is only three points behind,” Hamlin said. “Another guy needed fifteen stitches when he wiped out and his surfboard cut his head, and there was a search on for another surfer who had been swamped by a big wave.”

  Hamlin looked over at her. “Come to think of it, Barstow and a group of lifeguards asked O’Reilly to close down the meet an hour early. They were concerned because the wind was coming up and waves were getting blown out. It took some persuading before O’Reilly agreed.”

  “How’d Ben do?”

  Hamlin shrugged. “He’s got a few more points than his partner, the guy with the tattoos. They made the cut for the finals, but they’re not in the top three.”

  “Did Barstow look happy?”

  “He looked tense all day. Even the TV announcers picked up on it.”

  “Maybe he and O’Reilly haven’t been seeing eye to eye for a while. Plus, he’s got to be worried about Ben.”

  Which brought her thoughts back to Goober. O’Reilly would know that Goober had rescued her and was being sought by various rescue teams. The boy’s peripatetic habits were known to his friends, but how many of them knew that his last residence had been O’Reilly’s guest apartment? And what if he went back there for his belongings?

  Both Hamlin and Storm, lost in their concerns, were quiet for the rest of the drive. At the cottage, Storm headed directly to the hot shower, and when she got out, two uniformed HPD officers were waiting in the cottage living room.

  “We’ll file a report with the detectives on your case,” one officer told Storm. “They may give you a call later, but they’re out on another case.”

  Storm repeated her account of how she was attacked and put in the cave while the officers recorded her statement.

  “Have you found Goober?” she asked when she was finished. “He saved me.”

  “No, and we’re looking,” the officer said. “We’ve got people posted along the shoreline. There’s even a Coast Guard helicopter searching.”

  When the officers left, Storm sank into the sofa. For a few minutes, she looked out of the cozy, brightly lit room, past the lanai, toward the blackness of the pounding ocean. “Hamlin, we’ve got to look for him.”

  “You heard the police. They’ve even got one of the big choppers involved.”

  Storm sat quietly for a few moments. Hamlin had brought a glass of wine, and she sipped it. She was grateful the authorities were out there, but she and his friends knew more about him. And she couldn’t forget how he’d come when she needed help.

  She took Hamlin’s hand and squeezed it. “Please don’t be upset with me, but I can’t sit here and wonder where he is.”

  She picked up the phone on the end table next to the sofa. Sunny’s answering machine picked up after four rings. “Sunny, call me back. It’s importa
nt.” She left the same message on Sunny’s cell phone.

  “Hamlin, I want to drive by O’Reilly’s place.”

  Hamlin shook his head. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ve got a couple of questions for him. I also want to watch his reaction when he sees me.”

  “Storm, it’s too dangerous.”

  “I doubt he’ll be alone. And we’ll call Brian and tell him what we’re doing.”

  “Brian called while you were in the shower. They’re on the road, but they ran into an accident on the H-2, around Wahiawa. Traffic’s backed up. They’ll be here around eight.”

  “We’ll still tell Brian where we’re going. He can tell the North Shore police. O’Reilly isn’t going to do anything if you’re there and we tell him the cops are on the way. But our showing up may keep him from hurting Goober.”

  “Storm, you’ve had a hell of a day.”

  “I’ll be okay. You’ll be with me. Hamlin, I owe Goober.”

  Hamlin paced the floor. “We don’t go in his house, agreed?”

  “Right,” Storm said. “We’ll talk to him outside.”

  ***

  Traffic from Laniakea to Chun’s Reef was lighter than it had been when everyone was trying to get to the surf contest, but there were still more cars on the road than usual. It was seven o’clock and dark. Most people were headed toward them, out for a Saturday night in Haleiwa.

  It took Storm and Hamlin about fifteen minutes to reach O’Reilly’s neighborhood. Except for a light over the door, the house was dark.

  “He’s probably at dinner,” Hamlin said, and pulled into the drive next to a dark Porsche Boxter. Storm couldn’t tell if it was black or navy.

  “I’m going to knock, anyway.”

  “I’m going with you.” Hamlin got out of the car. “Looks like he’s got an awesome view.”

  “It’s a great house.” Storm rapped on the front door, waited a few seconds, then tried the doorbell twice. They were about to leave when they heard soft footsteps approaching the door.

  Ben opened it, and stood wordlessly in the dark foyer. Even in shadow, his face looked blotchy. “Storm. It’s you,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He didn’t sound glad, and Storm could smell alcohol on his breath from five feet away. She felt a creeping dread. “Is Goober here?” she asked.

  Ben shook his head, and when he spoke his voice cracked. “His body washed ashore down past Kalalua Point.”

  Storm felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She sagged against Hamlin, who put his arm around her. “Oh, no,” was all she could say.

  “When?” Hamlin asked. His voice was shaky.

  “Dad just called, but I guess some people walking the shoreline found him about a half hour ago.”

  “Where’s your dad?” Hamlin asked.

  “Having dinner with O’Reilly and some of the media people.”

  “Where did they go?” she asked.

  “Where’d they go?” Ben looked down at his bare feet and seemed to ponder the question. “Probably Damien’s or Rosie’s Diner.”

  Chapter Forty-two

  Miles Hamasaki, Storm’s first legal mentor, had always warned that a guy who answered a question with a question was lying. And Uncle Miles had interrogated a lot of individuals in his long, successful career. For a moment, Storm wanted to give Ben the benefit of the doubt. Maybe Barstow hadn’t been specific about where they were going for dinner. But Ben would have just said that, wouldn’t he? And he wouldn’t be acting so strangely.

  There was an awkward moment, with Hamlin looking back and forth between the two of them. “Okay,” Storm said softly. “Thanks, Ben.”

  She turned without saying another word and went back to the car, where she slumped into the passenger seat. Hamlin was a half-second behind her.

  “What does it mean if he’s lying?” He started the car. “He couldn’t have put you in the cave. He was surfing.”

  “He knows something he’s not telling us.”

  “Why would Ben cover up for O’Reilly?” Hamlin backed the car out of the drive and started down the street. “For that matter, why would Goober?”

  “Goober was desperate to be in the contest.” She jutted her chin toward the Boxter. “And Ben’s made a lot of money. He might try not to notice something squirrelly.” She sighed.

  “But Ben and Nahoa were good friends, right? Goober, too. Who’d put up with that shit, even if it did get you a Porsche?”

  “Not just a car, Ian.” Storm’s voice was sad. “He’s making thousands in endorsements and he’s a top-ranked competitor on the world pro-surfing circuit. It’s the big time.”

  “I still can’t see it.” Hamlin squinted into the rearview mirror, as if he could get a read on Ben by looking back at the house. “He’s got his whole life to do that.”

  “He’s been on a roller coaster lately, with his parents’ divorce in the works. They’re playing emotional ping-pong with him.”

  With that thought, Storm pulled out her phone and punched in a number. “Hello, Stephanie.”

  “Storm, thank God you’re all right.”

  “I was lucky.”

  Stephanie’s voice trembled. “Did you hear about Goober? It’s on the news.”

  “I just saw Ben. He told me.”

  “Ben? Where is he?”

  “At O’Reilly’s house.”

  “Did you see Marty?” Stephanie was the only person who called him Marty.

  “No, Ben was alone.”

  “Oh.” Relief was apparent in Stephanie’s voice.

  “Just for curiosity, how did you know I was with Goober?”

  “One of the EMTs in the medical tent is a friend of mine. She told me that you got picked up by a helicopter, and you were asking about a guy on a jet ski. Some people saw you with Goober earlier.” Stephanie paused. “I saw him this morning at Starbucks. Some guys were razzing him about bombing his first wave. Goober has a pretty good sense of humor, but he didn’t laugh. Then he said something odd.”

  “Like what?”

  “He said things weren’t what they thought. I’m not sure anyone knew what he meant. The rest of the guys got kind of quiet. Part of it was his attitude, you know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Stephanie thought for a moment. “He looked sad. Goober’s usually kind of happy-go-lucky, but he looked determined. The way he put his head down and shoved open the door to leave.”

  “When was this?”

  “About nine-thirty this morning.”

  “Stephanie, do you have any idea where I might find O’Reilly and your ex at this hour? Ben said they’d gone to dinner.”

  “They eat at Damien’s sometimes.” Stephanie didn’t sound happy about this fact. “They usually come in late, around eight-thirty. They have a few drinks somewhere first and hash out plans for the next day.”

  “Where do they go for drinks?”

  “Pipeline Pub & Grub. Or just to each others’ houses.”

  “Thanks, Stephanie. If you see either of them, call me back, okay?”

  “Sure. I’m really glad you’re all right.”

  Storm hung up the phone and frowned. “The more I think about Ben, the stranger I find his behavior. I don’t think Ben wished Goober harm, but they weren’t that close. Do you think he’d be as upset as he appears to be?”

  “You’re right.” Hamlin kept his eyes on the traffic, which moved slowly but steadily along in a string of red taillights. “He’d be bummed, but drinking alone in the dark is a bit extreme.”

  “Remember, they quarreled the first day we met them. The day Nahoa got the package with the lei o manō.”

  “You’re right. Still, they were peers. Ben might feel the accident could have happened to him.”

  “Goober drowned because he came after me,” Storm whispered. She sank in the seat.

  Hamlin reached over and took her hand. “You don�
��t know what happened after he left you.”

  Storm didn’t answer.

  “Storm, do you think Ben might have known where you’d been taken, too? And now he feels guilty because he didn’t help rescue you?”

  It made sense, but Storm didn’t feel like it was the whole picture. “Maybe.” She still needed to talk to O’Reilly. “We’ve got to turn around.”

  “I thought so,” he said. “Barstow lives out past Sunset Beach, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, and O’Reilly might be there.”

  She got out her phone and punched in the number to Sunny’s mobile again. This time, Sunny answered. There was a lot of noise in the background, but Sunny shouted over it.

  “Storm! Thank God! Dede, it’s Storm.” Storm heard another shriek over the background noise.

  “Where are you?” asked Sunny.

  “I’m in the car with Hamlin. We’re looking for Steve O’Reilly. Where are you?”

  “Pipeline Pub & Grub. My God, we just heard about Goober. And Buster DeSilva told us how you’d gone after him. We were so worried.” Sunny’s voice shrilled with distress. “Where did you go?”

  “I’ll tell you about it later. Is O’Reilly there?”

  “Haven’t seen him. Wait a sec.” Storm could hear her ask Dede, and Dede shouted to another person. After a minute or so, Sunny came back with a negative. “What are you doing?”

  “I need to talk to him. I’ll explain later.”

  “If I see him, I’ll call.” Sunny paused. “And Storm, be careful.”

  “Right.” Storm hung up thoughtfully. She wished she’d asked Sunny if Goober had told her anything about O’Reilly. Storm pondered calling Sunny back, maybe even asking her to come with them, but the bar was so noisy they were having a hard time communicating. It could wait a few hours.

  “At least we won’t be talking to O’Reilly alone,” Hamlin said. “After this, can we relax and have dinner?”

  Storm smiled at him. “You bet. By then, Leila, Brian, and Robbie will be here. They can join us.”

  “Sounds good.”