by Robert McCaw
Nālani expressed her first concern. “Is Polly going to stay?”
“Yes, I talked her into withdrawing her resignation.”
“Thank you,” Nālani said, and Koa echoed the sentiment.
Later, the two of them walked out of the observatory into perhaps the most stunning sunset in Koa’s memory. Far off to the west, trails of vaporous mist played eerily over the deeply shadowed valley where night had already fallen between the Hawaiian mountains. Across the channel, Haleakalā on Maui seemed to rise from the mists of some unseen netherworld. Hues of red, orange, yellow, and pink glorified the darkening sky. No edges separated the colors. A continuum of subtle shades simply slid softly together in the ever-shifting light of the dying day.
Behind them the huge shutters of the Alice telescopes rolled open. One of the domes turned slowly. A laser beam for the adaptive optics snapped on, sending a bright line of orange light toward the heavens. The giant eyes peered deep into space and backward in time to a younger and more violent universe.
For Koa, his current universe was plenty violent enough. Some malevolent current had swept Keneke away from Mauna Kea in the middle of the night, prompted him to make plans to return to the mainland, and then unexpectedly carried him to a ritual death and mutilation in a Pōhakuloa lava tube. There had to be some connection to the observatory. Otherwise, why would Keneke leave in the middle of the night?
Koa’s mind suddenly focused on a contradiction he had previously missed. According to both Nālani and Soo Lin, Keneke and Gunter had a falling-out, Soo Lin saying that Keneke didn’t trust Gunter, and Nālani sure that Keneke avoided Gunter. But according to Gunter, they had dined together shortly before Keneke’s disappearance. Had they reconciled, or had something happened at that dinner to launch Keneke on his flight from the observatory?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE NEXT MORNING, Hook Hao called Koa to say that Reggie had regained consciousness, and that Lieutenant Baxter of the Maui police wanted to interview Reggie. Koa groaned at the mention of Baxter’s name. He knew the Maui lieutenant from his military days as a condescending asshole with a nasty attitude toward minorities. They had sometimes worked together as police officers, but Koa had no fond memories of those times together.
He called Baxter to ask him to hold off until he and Hook could get to Maui. After ringing off, Koa booked and boarded a Hawaiian Airlines flight. Hook was waiting for him when he entered the terminal at Maui’s Kahului Airport.
“Hey, Brah, some good news, no?”
“The best.” Koa gave Hook two thumbs-up. “You get any more on his medical condition?”
“A little. He’s conscious and his vital signs are normal. He’s out of immediate danger.”
“That’s great. I want to talk to Lieutenant Baxter and then we’ll go to the hospital. Okay?”
“Sure.”
Koa’s cell phone chirped and he answered, “Detective Kāne.”
“This is Detective Wanabi. Baxter asked me to pick you up. I’m in a brown Ford Explorer in the pickup lane outside the Hawaiian terminal.”
“Great. See you in two minutes,” Koa responded. They met Wanabi and made their way to downtown Kahului. Massive traffic jams choked the streets and created gridlock at the intersections. “The town, hell, the whole island, has become a parking lot,” Wanabi complained.
“Yeah,” Koa agreed. “You could change a flat tire and not lose your place in this line of cars.”
Wanabi chuckled as he fired up the siren and illuminated the blue bubble light. Koa ignored the misuse of police emergency powers as Wanabi blared and weaved toward Maui police headquarters.
When they finally made it to the modern concrete-and-glass building, Koa asked Hook to wait in the lobby while he walked upstairs to see Lieutenant Baxter.
“Hey, man, long time no see. You been hidin’ ’cause of the dinner you owe me?” Tony Baxter grinned, revealing bad teeth. The man was seriously overweight and wore a wrinkled uniform with grease spots on one sleeve. With officers like Baxter, it was little wonder that a lot of the population had little regard for the police.
Koa went along with the teasing. Playing buddies with Baxter was a small price to pay for the favors he wanted. “That’s not my fault. I bet you a dinner in Hilo, and my sources tell me you’ve been too busy chasing Hawaiian babes to collect.”
“Your sources ain’t worth shit. You think just because you’ve found your Hawaiian pussy, it’s off-limits for the rest of us.”
The crass description of Nālani bothered Koa, but he let it ride. “Just hurts my feelings that you think it trumps dinner in Hilo.”
Baxter gave him a wry look, like Koa should be glad he hadn’t collected. “And now you’re here lookin’ for more favors. This time, it’s dinner in Wailuku. I’m not givin’ you another fuckin’ out.”
“Deal. Tonight after we talk and I see the kid up at Maui Memorial?”
“Deal. I been thinkin’ the Waterfront over on Mā‘alaea Bay.” Baxter grinned.
He’s an asshole, Koa thought. The Smith family, who owned and managed the eatery, had their own fishing vessels and served the day’s catch at top prices, making it the most expensive place in town. “You looking for seared ‘ahi or ono en papillote?”
Baxter looked disgusted. “I don’t eat that shit. Martinis and steak, that’s man food.”
Koa chose not to challenge the man’s claims to culinary expertise. Instead he got directly to the point. “Tell me about this thing with Hook’s kid.”
Baxter shifted in his seat, accepting the change to serious talk. “Damn funny business. The Navy shore patrol spotted a guy waving a makeshift flag from the pali above Kanapou Bay on Kaho‘olawe. The flag waver turned out to be Aikue ‘Ōpua, the native-rights oracle. He led the shore patrol to Reggie Hao, who got tangled up with a fuckin’ unexploded bomb up near the Pu‘u Moiwi. A Navy rescue helo airlifted Reggie back to Maui Memorial.”
“You brought ‘Ōpua in for a statement?”
“You bet. According to him, he’s Saint ‘Ōpua, out to save Hawai‘i for the restoration of the old ways, the resurrection of the ali‘i, the rebuilding of the heiau, and the reestablishment of the taboos … all that shit. He’s a fruitcake, but it’ll be hard to convict him of trespass, let alone looting antiquities. The fuckin’ sovereignty loonies are already beating their tom-toms. Some big muckety-muck from the Big Island called the mayor, trying to get ‘Ōpua a pass.”
Koa let his puzzlement show. “Who called from the Big Island?”
“Prince Kamakamakama or something like that. Supposed to be the descendant of some dead Hawaiian king.”
“Prince Kamehameha?”
“Yeah, that’s the big-ass dude.”
The news surprised Koa. The prince seemed to have his fingers all over the antiquities cases on both Maui and the Big Island.
“How many times did ‘Ōpua and the others go out to Kaho‘olawe?”
“‘Ōpua says this was his virgin outing. More bullshit, but what would you expect? I mean, why tumble to multiple trespass charges when we got evidence of only one?”
“They find anything?”
“‘Ōpua says they found squat. Still more bullshit, but that, too, is what you’d expect. I mean, trespass is a misdemeanor, but looting antiquities—that could get you real time in the big house.”
“You don’t believe him?”
Baxter’s smart-ass grin showed exactly what he thought of the sovereignty people. “Hell, if he said the sun was shining, I’d check the window. Besides, the Seabees went back after the rescue. Found a blue backpack, mostly fishhooks and stones, volcanic glass, and some ‘aumakua objects … you know, little family idols. We may not be able to prove they came from Aikue’s dig, but it would be a real strange coincidence if they didn’t.”
“You don’t seem to like Mr. ‘Ōpua.”
“I’d love to put that little cocksucker and his toadies away. These islands are part of the United States, one of the fifty s
tates, for God’s sake, and this little snake wants to crank us back to the fuckin’ Middle Ages. Who cares if the captain of some whaling ship raped his great-great-grandmother?”
The vehemence of Baxter’s outburst surprised Koa. The man’s animosity toward minorities had plainly gotten worse, but Koa held his tongue. Baxter was badly maladjusted. “There was a third guy?”
“Yeah. One Garvie Jenkins. We didn’t even find out about him until we took ‘Ōpua’s statement.”
“Didn’t the shore patrol pick him up with ‘Ōpua and Reggie?”
“No. He didn’t hang around for the rescue and left ‘Ōpua and the injured kid. Hoofed it over to the Kaho‘olawe preservation office and hitched a ride out on a supply boat.”
“He abandoned Reggie after the dud exploded?” Koa was incredulous.
“So it seems. But I guess it ain’t too shocking, since the dude’s done time in the big house.”
That didn’t sound good for Reggie. “Really? Where?”
Baxter grinned. “He did a stretch at Kūlani.”
“He’s from the Big Island?”
“Yeah. Ran some kind of financial scam in Kona. Bought himself an all-expenses-paid trip to Kūlani. Gave us a Kona address when we picked him up.”
Koa was already thinking ahead—he had to tell Hook about his son’s unsavory friends. “So what does this model citizen have to say for himself?”
“That’s the weird part. He refused to talk.”
“Because he’s facing a misdemeanor trespass charge that we can prove through other people. That doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s not an ordinary trespass charge.” Baxter grinned. “Under code section 13–260 Kaho‘olawe’s a restricted place. The penalty’s a year in the can, plus a thousand dollars a day.”
Koa was unimpressed. “It’s still a misdemeanor. His stonewalling tells me he found loot or something worse. He’s worried about a felony charge.”
“Probably, but it gets still more peculiar.”
“How?” Koa cocked his head.
“He’s represented by T. Gordon Wheeler, the fuckin’ Esquire.”
“The celebrity criminal lawyer?”
“The very same.”
This new entry astonished Koa. “Wheeler charges twenty-five grand to answer the phone. Garvie wouldn’t hire him for a trespass violation. Hell, I doubt that Wheeler would take a pissant trespass case. Garvie’s got to be worried about something involving serious time.”
“Maybe, but unless we can tie ‘Ōpua or Garvie to the backpack, I’ve got three misdemeanor raps. Makes me think I missed a turn someplace. It just doesn’t compute.”
“You’ve talked to Wheeler?”
“I didn’t exactly talk to Mr. fuckin’ Esquire. He called me to say that he represents Garvie and will handle all questions. When I suggested the county prosecutor might bring Garvie before a grand jury, Mr. Esquire asked me if I had ever heard of the Fifth Amendment. That’s a fuckin’ dead end.”
“What about Reggie?”
“He’s been in a coma since the Seabees hauled him out. Hasn’t uttered a word. They did find an ‘aumakua in his pocket, a small stone turtle, but that don’t prove zip. Half the Hawaiian population carries an ‘aumakua. It’s like a key ring back on mother mainland. What’s your deal with this kid, anyway?”
Baxter obviously didn’t understand that ‘aumakua represented personal or family gods, but that wasn’t surprising. He was a cultural illiterate. So far Koa had presented himself only as a family friend because he feared Baxter would become territorial, but now that he understood better what had happened on Kaho‘olawe, he needed to go further. “Like I explained on the phone, I’ve known the kid and his father for more than a decade. The father has helped us a bunch of times. But I’m also working a murder case, a ritual murder. It’s got an archaeology angle, and now that you’ve explained what happened out there, I’ve got a feeling that there could be a pilina—a connection.”
“How?”
“I haven’t put it together yet, but we found an archaeological site on the Army training ground at Pōhakuloa looted. We haven’t established a connection to the murder, but it can’t be a coincidence. Now you’ve got another possible looting, one that attracts T. Gordon Wheeler, Esquire. I’ve been on the force a dozen years. In all those years, I haven’t seen a single looting of antiquities case. Now there are two of them and they’re not connected? I’m not buying.”
“So you’re goin’ up to the hospital to see my witness?”
“Yeah, Hook and I are going to see Reggie.”
“He’s my witness.” Baxter looked Koa straight in the eye. “My witness, Detective.”
Koa nodded reluctantly. The case belonged to the Maui Division because Kaho‘olawe was their territory. Baxter might be a professional friend, but he, like all police officers, had a turf-conscious commander. Baxter’s possessiveness nevertheless surprised him. It was bad police work. Enlisting the aid of the father and a family friend was far more likely to get the young man to talk. Koa decided to bide his time. “I understand. I’ll follow your lead.”
“Deal.”
They collected Hook and drove up Mahalani Street to Maui Memorial Hospital. A Hawaiian matron in a flowing mu‘umu‘u directed them to the general medical ward on the fourth floor, and a nurse in the ward pointed them toward Reggie’s room.
The hospital room usually held two patients, but the hulking young man was alone. Hooked up to an IV and various monitors, he had a tired, bloodless appearance. A thick band of padded gauze wrapped his forehead, and a cast covered his left arm from above the elbow to his wrist. “E ku‘u makua kāne … Father,” he said in a hoarse croak.
“E ku‘u keiki kāne … my son.” Hook leaned over the bed and the two embraced awkwardly. “Good to see you ua ala … conscious.”
“Good to be awake. At least it would be if my head didn’t hurt.”
“You need medicine?” Hook asked anxiously. “No. They gave me something a while ago.”
Baxter stepped forward. “I’m Lieutenant Baxter of the Criminal Investigations Unit of the Maui Police. I need to ask you some questions.”
“Okay,” Reggie croaked with a grimace.
“I must tell you that we are investigating crimes, and anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and the right to remain silent. Do you understand your constitutional rights?”
“I guess so.” Reggie’s voice was almost inaudible, and he had a pained expression.
“You were on Kaho‘olawe?” Baxter’s careless, overbearing technique surprised Koa. If one of his detectives had accepted an I-guess-so response to a Miranda warning, Koa would have hauled him out of the room for a lecture. Even Piki, who was often too exuberant, knew better. Besides, Reggie had obviously suffered serious trauma and was drugged up on painkillers. Nothing he said to Baxter would be admissible in court.
“Yes, I kinda remember landing on the sacred island.”
“With ‘Ōpua and Garvie?”
“I think so. It’s not too clear, but it seems like I was with Aikue ‘Ōpua and maybe someone else. It’s all kind of confused in my head.”
“Why? Why were you on Kaho‘olawe?”
“Trying to protect our sacred … Hawaiian heritage.”
“You mean, lookin’ for artifacts?”
“Arti … arti … artifacts?” Reggie closed his eyes.
“What happened out there?” Baxter’s voice hardened.
“I kinda remember landing on the sacred island at dawn … soft gray light from the east … I remember walking … then dark … the darkness of pō.” Reggie closed his eyes and seemed to go to sleep.
Hook stared at the police officer with barely contained hostility. “I think you better let him rest.”
“Shit,” Lieutenant Baxter swore, “I’m not gettin’ shit.”
“Might give it some time,” Koa suggested. “We could let you know if his memory comes ba
ck.” He took a first step to leave, meaning to draw Baxter away. The two walked out of Reggie’s hospital room into the hall.
“Okay,” Baxter said, plainly dissatisfied, “I’m going back to my office. Let me know if he remembers anything—an’ don’t hold out on me—got that?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Koa suppressed his annoyance.
“Good, Koa, do you or Mr. Hao need a ride?”
“Mahalo, but no. We’re going to hang out with Reggie. Then figure out our next move. The steak place down by the bay at six thirty?”
“Deal. Aloha.” Baxter got into the patient elevator and the huge double door closed.
“That’s a friend of yours?” Hook asked skeptically.
“We need to talk.” Koa pulled Hook into one of the ‘ohana rooms for visiting family. “Baxter acted like an asshole. It wasn’t even decent police work, but this thing is serious. It’s more than just trespassing, and I’m not sure, but I think it’s more than preserving Hawaiian history. Garvie was into something … probably the looting of antiquities. That’s a felony.”
“Oh, God.” A worried expression furrowed Hook’s massive brow.
“But the fact that Garvie isn’t talking might be a blessing. He’s got a record. His criminal record and the fact that he turned tail without helping Reggie should make him the real target.” Koa talked more rapidly as he continued. “I was watching Reggie’s eyes. I think he remembers more than he told Baxter. You need to get Reggie to tell us what he knows.”
Hook stared at Koa for a long time before responding softly, “There is a risk he’ll incriminate himself, isn’t there?”
“Yes, and I won’t mislead you. The risk is real. Baxter wants a case. He doesn’t like ‘Ōpua, but knows he’ll have trouble getting a conviction. There’s a lot of sympathy for the sovereignty movement even if there’s no real political support.” He gave Hook time to digest that information, and then continued. “He’s gonna ask the prosecutor to file charges. I’ll bet a month’s pay on that. Just trespassing or more serious—that’s the question and it depends on witnesses. Of the three potential witnesses—‘Ōpua, Reggie, and Jenkins—the one who talks first and helps the police is going to get the best deal and maybe, just maybe, walk away.”