Sinking Suspicions

by Sara Sue Hoklotubbe

  “And,” Pua continued, “the good news is that phone service is working on all the islands now.” Pua turned to Sadie. “I can help you change your flight if you still want to do that.”

  Sadie nodded. “I need to get back home as soon as possible.”

  “I'll work on it while you visit with Tutu.” Pua handed her phone to Sadie. “Do you want to call your friend in Oklahoma and let him know you're okay?”

  “Oh, yes. Thank you.” Sadie walked away and dialed Lance's number. After a few seconds, she returned Pua's phone to her. “Thanks. No answer,” she said.

  “Come on,” Tutu interrupted. “Let's go to the house. I'll make you something to eat and we can talk before you have to catch the ferry.” Tutu moved toward the door, and then turned. “You didn't happen to bring dessert, did you?”

  Chapter 19

  Cynthia Tanner didn't want to go back into the trailer. It would never be the same knowing what had happened to Benny there. How could she ever sleep in the same bed where his life had been snuffed out by some deranged person? Then a scary thought occurred to her—what was stopping that same person from coming back and doing the same thing to her? She didn't know where she would go, but it would have to be somewhere she could start over. It wouldn't take long to stuff everything she owned into a few boxes. If she had to, she'd live in her car for a while.

  She'd lost both Tomas and Benny in one short morning. The craziness of it all engulfed her. As her thoughts wandered to Benny, she realized she knew very little about him. It was by choice, and now she wondered why. She'd always thought the less she knew the better off she was. Now she felt the loss of a man she didn't even know and wondered why it hurt so badly.

  She thought about the unknown person, or persons, Benny had been mailing letters to regularly, wondered who they were, and what their reaction would be when the letters stopped coming. Cynthia was glad they would never know about her, about the tumultuous life she and Benny had lived, hoping they would never know how he'd died. She didn't want anyone to know that she was the reason he'd lost his life.

  Cynthia wiped her nose with the back of her hand, went inside, and began to throw clothes and shoes into boxes. Everything should fit in the trunk of the car. There wasn't that much to take.

  She still had the groceries she'd bought the day before, except for the chicken legs she'd finally tossed into the dumpster behind the grocery store when they began to smell. She would gather as many nonperishables as she could, leaving the food in the refrigerator behind. Climbing on a kitchen chair, she reached on top of the refrigerator, scooped up the plastic bags of morel mushrooms, and tossed them into her box. One bag was missing, and she lamented the thought that it had probably fallen behind the refrigerator, but there wasn't time to worry about a couple of mushrooms. The old woman who managed the trailer park could have everything else.

  Once she had packed her things and loaded the car, she returned for one last check. She shrugged her shoulders and walked out of the trailer for the last time.

  When Lance and Charlie arrived where the abandoned runaway truck had been found, the only thing left was a badly scarred tree and two young officers walking around carrying large plastic bags.

  Charlie got out of the car and chuckled. “How're you boys coming along with roadside trash detail?”

  Lance winced at Charlie's comment as he rolled out of his side of the vehicle, hoping the other officers appreciated Charlie's humor as much as he did.

  “That's about all we've got is trash,” commented the youngest looking of the two as he used his forearm to wipe sweat out of his eyes. “As you already know, we can tell that the driver escaped from the passenger's side of the vehicle and, based on the way the grass was beat down, made a beeline to the creek. But that's all we can find. He must have walked in the creek bed for quite a ways before moving back onto land again. And we can't find where that was. Sarge says if we don't find anything by noon, that's it.”

  “I thought you found something interesting. None of this sounds too interesting to me,” quipped Charlie.

  “No, sir. It doesn't. The only thing we've found so far is this baseball glove.” He walked over to his car, popped the trunk, and held up a leather baseball glove encased in one of the large plastic bags. “It's pretty dirty and looks like it belongs to a kid. I don't think it has a thing to do with this runner we're looking for, and Sarge says I can have it if you don't want it for evidence.”

  “Let me see that,” said Lance, reaching for the glove. “Where'd you find it?”

  “South of here.” The young man pointed with his head. “It was in the ditch halfway between the road and the fence line.”

  “I think I'd have to agree with you, young man.” Charlie sounded disgusted. “It's highly unlikely it flew out the window of a crashing vehicle and traveled that far.”

  “Agreed,” Lance said, nodding his head. “A more likely explanation would be the town park that's not far from here. The Little League and junior high teams play ball there all summer, and this glove looks like it used to belong to a kid. No telling how they lost it.” Lance turned the glove over in his hands and then passed it back to the officer. “I know from experience that it's virtually impossible to get any fingerprints off of leather unless you can see them, and I don't see any blood on it. Besides,” he said, “it looks kind of girly. Someone drew roses on it with a red ink pen.”

  The young officer nodded in agreement.

  “I'd say the evidence question would be up to you and your supervisor,” Charlie said. “What other trash have you come across?”

  Lance and Charlie followed the young officer over to the trunk of his car and began to inspect several clear plastic bags that held an array of items, including discarded drug paraphernalia, beer bottles, soda cans, cigarette butts, paper cups, fast food restaurant sacks, a condom, and one child's tennis shoe, all of which Lance assumed had been pitched out of various vehicles as they sped by.

  “Thanks, son,” Charlie said, and walked off.

  Lance climbed back into Charlie's cruiser, and together the two men headed south.

  “That was a waste of time,” Charlie muttered.

  The conversation between the two men waned, and Lance became lost in his own thoughts as they drove back to Sycamore Springs. He began to worry about Sadie; he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to overreact, but he felt like he needed to do something. How could he protect the woman he loved, if he couldn't even talk to her?

  Finally Charlie spoke, bringing Lance back to the present. “You ever play baseball, Lance?”

  “Of course.” Lance grinned. “Best short stop in Delaware County. Everybody plays baseball.”

  “Not me,” Charlie said. “Just wondering if your man Buck Skinner ever did.”

  “During the war.” Lance scrutinized every passing car as if it carried someone he was looking for. “He played baseball during the war.”

  Charlie maneuvered a right turn to the Waffle House where Lance had left his truck. “Oh, yeah? How on earth would you know that?”

  “He wrote about it in a letter he sent home to his mother.” Lance began to tell Charlie about the letters he'd found in the dilapidated house on Buck's property.

  “Damn, Lance. Your stint in Liberty turning you into a thief?”

  “I'll give them back to him when he finally turns up. Or, I guess I should say if he turns up. If not, then I'll give them to his niece. She showed up from California, you know. I don't know much about Buck, but she's not exactly what I expected.” Lance pulled out his cell phone, looked at it, and let out a grunt. “Women. They drive me crazy.”

  “Ah, ain't love grand?” Charlie said, as he parked next to Lance's truck.

  Lance got out and slammed the car door without saying a word.

  Charlie parked his cruiser in front of the main door of the Sycamore Springs branch of First Merc State Bank, and although he often used this branch to transact personal business, memories of the deadly bank robbe
ry always seemed to lurk in the back of his mind. He sat for a moment, scrutinizing every car and person in sight, before getting out and lumbering into the building.

  After the teller counted out his cash, he secured it in his money clip and shoved it in his pocket as he headed for the door. The manager appeared out of nowhere with a worried look on her face.

  “Mr. McCord, do you have a moment?”

  “Yes, of course.” Charlie nodded and followed her into her office.

  She closed the door behind them and Charlie remained standing. The nameplate on her desk read “Melanie Thompson.”

  “Is everything all right, Ms. Thompson?” Charlie couldn't decide if bank managers were getting younger or he was just getting older. This woman couldn't have been a day over twenty-five years old, he thought, and what would she do if she suddenly encountered a murdering thief the way Sadie had? He decided not to bring it up. “What can I do for you?”

  “I know you're a regular customer,” she said, “and I thought you should be aware of the bomb threat we got in the mail, you being a police officer and all.”

  Charlie nodded as she spoke. “Yes, ma'am. I'm aware that you received a letter and I understand the bomb squad has already been here and determined that the building was clear.”

  “Yes, yes. That's true. They took the letter, said they'd give it to the FBI, but I kept a copy for myself, and I'd like for you to see it.” The manager opened her top drawer, pulled out a sheet of paper, and handed it to him. Charlie read silently to himself.

  God tells you what to do. He even tells you exactly how to do it. Figure it out by Friday or the place will be destroyed.

  The note had been handwritten in childlike print. “Do you have a copy of the envelope as well?”

  “No, but it was postmarked in Sycamore Springs on last Friday.”

  Charlie chewed on the inside of his cheek and thought for a moment before handing the paper back to Melanie. “Can you make a copy of this for me?”

  Melanie nodded, placed the paper in a nearby copy machine, and hit a green button. When the machine spit out the copy, she handed it to Charlie. Her hands were shaking.

  “You know, Ms. Thompson, it doesn't exactly say anything about a bomb.”

  “What else could it mean?” Fear crossed her face and her voice rose in pitch.

  “Well, it could mean anything, I guess.” Charlie folded the note and put it in his shirt pocket. “I'm sure they've already asked you this,” he said, “but do you have any idea who might've sent this to you, ma'am?”

  “No. Not really. Almost every customer we have is mad about something or another these days, especially since the new management implemented higher fees on everything you can think of. I wish they had to listen to these whiny customers all the time the way I do and maybe they'd do things differently.” She plopped into her chair and shoved the copy of the note back into her desk, and then slammed the drawer shut.

  “Don't worry.” Charlie tried to sound reassuring. “I'll check with the officer in charge. I'm sure they already have someone watching the bank, and I'll drop by myself on Thursday night and Friday morning. Most of the time, people are all talk. They rarely follow through on threats like this. Whoever sent this letter has probably already cooled off by now.”

  “Well, if that's the case, they owe me an apology.” Anger swelled in her voice. Her smile appeared forced.

  “I doubt they're going to do that, since making a threat like this is a federal offense, regardless of whether they do anything or not, and they probably know that. Heck, I bet they wished they had that letter back as soon as they dropped it in the mailbox.” Charlie pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “This is my direct number. I can usually get here pretty fast. Just give me a call if you see anything out of the ordinary or anybody acting suspicious. Okay?” He gave her a fatherly pat on the shoulder, checked the lobby, and left.

  Chapter 20

  Sadie and Pua sat on wooden chairs in the shade of a giant mango tree in Tutu's backyard, drinking mint-flavored iced tea, nibbling first on fish and rice and then on Home Maid Bakery pastries, listening to Tutu talk about the hardships of living on Maui during the war. Pua looked surprised when her mother opened up so easily to a complete stranger, revealing secrets Sadie imagined she must have been holding in her heart for many years. It was like watching the pain flow freely from an excised sore. The longer she spoke, the stronger her voice became.

  Pua listened silently, as if she were afraid a whispered word might break her mother's train of thought. Sadie absorbed every word.

  “It was hell,” Tutu said. “When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in 1941, we lived in fear they would do the same thing to us on Maui. A week later, they tried. A Japanese submarine fired ten or so shells into Kahului Harbor. Half of them didn't even go off, a couple hit the pineapple cannery, and a couple fell into the harbor. I think the only casualty was a chicken.” Tutu clapped her hands together and laughed, and then became quiet again. “It sounds funny now, but we lived close to the beach and after that attack we were afraid. We moved further inland.

  “About two weeks after that, I think it was on New Year's Eve, another submarine tried the same thing, but we had Navy men here by then and they returned fire and scared them off.” She grinned. “I guess they learned their lesson because they never came back after that.

  “About three months later, we had over thirty thousand army and air force troops. They came in and took over the island, which was all right with me because it made us feel safer from a Japanese invasion.” Tutu stopped for a moment and sipped tea. “And sure enough, in May or June in 1942 the rumor was that they intended to invade the whole state, but then the U.S. stopped them at Midway.” Tutu lowered her eyes. “I heard that was an awful battle.”

  The mynah birds called to each other in the tree above the three women as they sat in silence. Finally Tutu continued.

  “We couldn't go anywhere at night because no lights were allowed. It was too hard to see to get around. We couldn't even drive cars with the headlights on. We covered our windows so not one bit of light escaped or the military men would come to our doors and threaten us. I did my homework with a flashlight under the sheets on my bed.

  “We couldn't go to the beach because the military men had put barbed wire all along the shore, and we couldn't go anywhere without special identification and a gas mask. We had food ration cards and gas ration cards. For years, it was as if the whole island was one big prison.

  “The Marines came in February of 1944.” Tutu's face brightened momentarily. “That's when I met Pua's father,” she said, and then became silent. She shifted in her chair and took another sip of iced tea.

  “How old were you?” Sadie finally asked.

  “I was a teenager, seventeen. I met Pua's father right after my father joined the army and was shipped off to Europe to fight with the 442. My father was killed in Germany, you know.” Tutu looked at Pua and smiled. “He died in 1944, but I received the best gift of my life the same year.” She patted Pua's knee. “I'm thankful for my baby girl. I was so distraught when I heard her father, my Ohia, had been killed, I almost took my life. But her presence inside my belly stopped me. I could have taken my life, but not hers.”

  With tears in her voice, Pua said the words to her mother she'd apparently wanted to say her entire life. “Please tell me about my father.”

  “He was a handsome and brave soldier, a Cherokee warrior, and he was strong as a tree.” She smiled. “I called him my Ohia.”

  “Ohia?” Sadie asked.

  Tutu ignored Sadie's question and continued.

  “We had been in a car accident in Kahului, another girl and me, and out of nowhere came these two American boys. They stayed with us and helped get us to the hospital. My friend died and I was in the hospital for a week. It was horrible.” She looked into the distance before she continued. “I couldn't understand why I survived and she didn't. It didn't seem fair.” The sa
dness faded from her voice. “Then out of nowhere, there he was again. He showed up at my hospital room with a bouquet of flowers he'd picked along the road. The next thing I knew, we were in love.

  “He was stationed with the others at Kokomo. Marines. They had these little tents on the ground, in perfect rows, as far as you could see. The men would train almost every day, but some days they could leave the camp. That's when we would sneak away to our special place, a place near the north shore where, hidden in the tall grass high above the cliffs where no one could see or hear us, we would make love as if there was no tomorrow. And then one day, tomorrow never came.”

  Pua winced and squirmed in her seat. Tutu stared at the ground and paused as if calculating what she would say next.

  “He would never tell me when they were going into battle. I'm not sure he even knew.” She shook her head. “Then one day he was gone.”

  “A few weeks later I went to our secret place where I could watch for the ships to come into Kahului Harbor and dock. I thought he and the other boys would be on one of them. I knew the boats were coming in that day because two of the men from the camp had come into the USO the night before and told me so.”

  Tutu smiled and talked with her hands. “I danced hula at the USO shows. It made me feel good because all of the boys clapped and whistled when our hālau performed. I don't think they understood we were telling a story with our hands. They just wanted to watch us move our hips. But it made us happy, anyway.”

  “I saw two boys with the same emblems on their uniforms that he had on his, so I asked them if they knew him and when he would be back from the war. They said they didn't know him personally because they had just arrived from the States, but they knew about the battle that was raging in the ocean somewhere between Hawai‘i and Japan. They wouldn't tell me exactly where he'd gone, but they said it had been a terrible battle. They said thousands of our men had died. What they told me scared me, but I was young and never dreamed that he wouldn't return to me.