Fire Prayer

by Deborah Turrell Atkinson

  Which pissed Poele off, but Jenny knew how to calm him. She had a very special way of soothing Poele’s feelings. Kind of wrapped herself around him, with every means she could.

  Poele pulled open the wide gate of the paddock and let the goats mill around him, looking for pats and treats. He had grass pellets and pretzels in his pockets, and they worked their velvet noses into his hands until he smiled. The smile faded when he recalled how he and Jenny had hidden her car in this same paddock one night. At that point, she didn’t want gossip about their relationship spreading like a brush fire. So they’d sat out here under the stars, talking and making love under the full moon until they couldn’t stand the hard ground any longer and had gone to his bed.

  He’d fallen into a sound sleep, and thought she had, too. Still, she left around four in the morning because she wanted to be home when Luke got up for school. She was discreet that way. It made Poele feel excluded, but she was a very good mother to the boy. If only she’d stayed away from Brock, he thought, and his throat tightened.

  Poele wandered back to his house with a few goats still nuzzling at him, though he paid no attention by this time. Skelly was right about one thing; he was drinking too much. He just didn’t want to think about some of the events of the past week, but it wasn’t going to get any better until he picked off the scab and let the pus out.

  The night Jenny stayed was the night he tripped over the lamp. He’d gone to the kitchen to get her some ice water and himself a beer, and it seemed like the lamp was sitting farther out from his chair than usual. He’d cracked his toe, sworn, and turned on the hall light to take a look at what he’d crashed into. Then he’d merely sworn again and set the lamp upright to get it out of the way and get back to Jenny.

  Later that morning, after he’d risen early and milked the goats, he’d hitched into town for some groceries. It had been a busy day, and he’d had a few beers for lunch while he was in Kaunakakai.

  But reality wouldn’t leave him alone, would it? He hadn’t moved that lamp. Hell, he never moved anything around here. For years, he hadn’t examined his life or anyone else’s. He barely talked to people, except to restaurants who wanted his cheese and the occasional woman who took him on as a social rehabilitation project. He hadn’t even asked for Jenny, but the universe kept tapping him on the shoulder.

  Poele stumbled over a tuft of grass the goats had left. Jenny’s death was the tap on the shoulder he couldn’t ignore. He’d lost, again, what he should have held dear.

  This persistent obstinacy of his undermined his life. He’d managed not to see the sculpture until he’d plopped into his reading chair with a couple beers in hand and a few more nearby on ice. And there was Maui, on his side and without his rope. His big, hammer-like hands were out-flung in an ambiguous gesture, while his muscular legs flexed with effort. Storm Kayama was right. He looked like a hula dancer. Not that hula was bad, it just wasn’t what Jenny had intended. When he’d called Jenny to tell her, she’d laughed before saying she’d fix it.

  A few days later, Skelly dropped by and offered to take it to her. He was on his way to Jenny’s to pick up some medicine for Luke. Tanner wanted him to keep an extra supply at the office. Poele had the feeling Skelly hoped he might butter her up with the sculpture errand so she’d be more apt to give in to Tanner’s request for insulin.

  Poele opened his front door slowly and stood inside while his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Then he shook his head sadly, dug through a kitchen drawer for a tattered address book, and dialed a phone number.

  ***

  Makani’s truck was nicer than Dusty’s. It was a much newer model, with no rust holes and a big diesel engine that towed the three-horse trailer with steady power. Uncle Keone took the wheel, with Aunt Maile in the middle of the wide bench seat, and Storm by the window.

  “Do you mind if we go by the grocery and hospital?” Storm asked.

  “Is Detective Niwa still there?” Aunt Maile asked.

  “Yes, he was getting tests when I called this morning.”

  “Anyplace else you want to go before we head to the bay?” asked Uncle Keone.

  Storm grinned. She wasn’t getting anything by these two. “Skelly Richards’ business. It’s on the way, and it’ll take me five minutes.”

  Storm put together a fruit basket at the market, then had her aunt and uncle drop her at the hospital while they went to get gas for the truck. The receptionist at the information desk gave Storm directions to Niwa’s room.

  He was alone, sitting up with his glasses perched on his nose, and it took him a second or two to register that someone had walked into the room. He was reading Jan Burke’s Kidnapped.

  Storm offered the basket. “I thought chocolate might be frowned on.”

  “Hey, thanks. You musta read my doctor’s mind.” Niwa put a finger in the book to hold his place. “What are you up to?”

  “I got a call last night from Ian Hamlin, who told me Devon Liu’s assistant got a letter from Brock Liu. It’s postmarked last Thursday. We think Jenny Williams mailed it.”

  “No kidding.” Niwa sat up straighter. “Jesus, I wonder if someone killed her because he knew she had it. Or had information, anyway. What did it say?”

  “Hamlin’s got a meeting with the assistant today, but I’m sure it’s about the fire on the Ranch.”

  Niwa raised one eyebrow. “Interesting. You don’t look surprised, either.”

  “It all seems to go back to the fire, or Alika Liu’s death.”

  “I’ve been seeing the same trend.” Niwa reached out for the phone by his bed. “You mind sharing this news with my partner?”

  “Not at all, but my aunt and uncle are waiting for me in the parking lot. We’re going riding down at Halawa Bay.”

  He frowned at her. “Does this have anything to do with Tanner’s cabin?”

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing if Luke is safe.”

  “Do you know where the cabin is?”

  “Not really. Do you?”

  Niwa looked at her over his glasses. “Not exactly. And the only reason I’m telling you any of this is because Tanner called you to look after his boy.” He pushed a button on his bed that made him sit up straighter. “You have to go inland about a mile from the bay, then take a right when you get to a fork in the path. Problem is, I’m sure the trail will change again, and I don’t know where. Tanner can get there from either Keawenui or Halawa Bay, so I’d go east if I were you. Some of this is guessing on my part, and if you get to the cliffs on the north shore, you’ve gone too far.”

  “I’ve got a question about the fire, too,” Storm said. “Did you ever hear anything about a kahuna kuni, a person who starts a fire by sorcery?” But she could tell before the last words were out of her mouth that she didn’t need to explain the term to him.

  “Tell you what,” he said, and shifted his weight in the bed. “I’ll tell you that when I hear who’s mentioned in Jenny’s letter.”

  Storm glared at him for a moment, dug her mobile phone out of her fanny pack, and dialed Hamlin. He didn’t answer, which disappointed but didn’t surprise her, and she left a message for him to call both her mobile phone and Detective Niwa at the hospital.

  “C’mon, you’ll know soon,” Storm pleaded.

  Niwa shook his head. “It’s a murder investigation. And I don’t want you going near these people.”

  “I’m already near them. It’s a small island.” She paused. “I heard the weapon that killed Jenny Williams corresponds to the one that killed Brock Liu. Can you tell me if that’s true?”

  “Not going there.” The pupils of Niwa’s eyes contracted and bored into Storm’s. “And neither are you. The less you know, the better off you’ll be.”

  “Hah.” Storm didn’t believe that for a minute. “You know any good tattoo artists?”

  Now Niwa’s eyes popped wide. “You getting a tattoo?”

  “I’m thinking about a souvenir.” For a short moment
, she contemplated telling him that she already had one. There was a little pua‘a, her ‘aumakua and guardian animal spirit, on her left cheek. The one her bikini barely covered. “It’s the style,” she said instead.

  “You kids. You don’t think they’re going to fade and sag, but it’s nature’s way. Just wait.” He glowered at her. “Try Body, Ink. They say he’s the best.”

  “Where’s his shop?”

  “I’m gonna hate myself for this. It’s a block from Kanemitu’s Bakery.”

  Storm moved toward the door. “You’ll probably hear from Hamlin before I do. Get better soon.”

  “Thanks for the fruit,” Niwa said grumpily. He picked up his book and flipped through for the page he’d lost.

  Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone were indeed in the parking lot. Somewhere they’d found a Honolulu paper and were sharing it in the cab of the truck.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Storm said as she climbed in.

  “Only five minutes, no problem,” Keone said. “On to the Hawai‘i EcoTours office?”

  “I thought of something else,” Storm said, which made both Keone and Maile turn their heads in tandem.

  “Yes?” Uncle Keone said.

  “A couple blocks from here should be a tattoo parlor. I wondered if we could stop for just a minute.”

  “It takes longer than a minute,” Aunt Maile said. “And one is enough.”

  “I’m not getting another tattoo. Not today, anyway. I’ve got a quick question.”

  Body, Ink turned out to be right up the street, and Storm hopped out of the truck while Keone pulled to the curb. The little store was dark, though, and a sign on the door said CLOSED. It was nine o’clock on a Sunday morning. Not surprising that it wasn’t open, Storm thought, but she desperately wanted to ask the owner if Makani, Poele, and Dusty, if she wasn’t mistaken, had gotten their tattoos here. Maybe the artist would tell her whose idea it was, or who made the first appointment. She didn’t have any paper in her fanny pack, but she found a pen and wrote the phone number posted on the door across the back of her hand.

  ***

  Jerry Sanchez wasn’t home, and Poele didn’t want to leave a message. He thought for a moment, then dialed the police station. Jerry picked up.

  “I told you not to call me here,” Jerry whispered.

  “Talk normal. You’re going to attract attention.”

  “Hello, Maui Police Department, Island of Moloka‘i,” Jerry intoned.

  “Cut the crap, Jerry. I have one quick question, you answer yes or no.”

  “If you weren’t my cousin, I wouldn’t do this,” Jerry whispered again.

  Poele paused. “Not even because I’m a nice guy?”

  Jerry made a gagging noise. “Get to the point, Lambert.”

  “Now it’s going to be two questions.”

  “Shit.”

  “Have the police identified the weapon that killed Jenny Williams?”

  “No.”

  “Have they found parts of it in her skull?”

  “Yes.” Jerry spoke very quietly and drew the word out.

  Poele waited.

  “How’d you—”

  “It’s not shaped like an ordinary tool, is it?”

  “That’s three. Where’d you get this information?”

  “Tell Aunty Bea I’m going to miss dinner Friday night. I gotta get my truck fixed.” Poele hung up.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  “Ready?” asked Keone, who was watching out the window of the truck.

  “Let’s roll,” Storm said. “I’m itching to ride.”

  A horse nickered in response and Keone grinned. “You get one more stop.”

  It was nearly ten when they got to the cut-off past Kamalo, and both Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone remarked what a lovely site the Richards brothers had chosen for their business. A van with the Hawai‘i EcoTours logo painted on the side was parked outside the converted house. Its doors stood open as if someone were busy loading it.

  “I won’t be long,” Storm promised.

  “It’s shady, there’s a breeze, and we’ve got the Sunday paper,” Aunt Maile said.

  Skelly Richards swiveled his office chair toward the screened front door before Storm had a chance to knock. He was big, over six feet tall, and had the body of an aging linebacker. His mat of dark, curly hair made him loom even larger. Dark glasses perched on top of his head, nestled in the thick hair.

  “Finally, the great Storm Kayama,” he said with a sardonic smile.

  “Uh oh,” Storm said, and opened the door. She stuck out her hand. “Which greatness am I known for this time? Hope it’s my great jokes, not my great forgetfulness or some other mistake.”

  Skelly shook her hand and raised an eyebrow. “Tanner speaks highly of you.”

  “It’s been a while, but he helped me a lot in our high school days.”

  “He’s a brilliant man.” He pointed at a chair. “Have a seat.”

  Storm perched on the edge of the chair. “I always thought so, too.”

  “What brings you out this direction? You interested in a tour?” Skelly let his eyes move around her face, but avoided the full body scan his brother had given her. Storm had the feeling he‘d done it, but was slicker than Connor. He’d most likely given her the up and down before she got to the front door.

  “I wondered if you knew where Tanner was.”

  “It’s been a real bad weekend for him. He took my people out Saturday morning, but we made sure we relieved him yesterday afternoon. I presume he’s at his cabin.”

  “Is Connor with your tourists?”

  Skelly’s eyes flared. “That’s right, you met my brother. Yeah, he’s had a rough time, too, but he’s coming around.” He dropped the pretense of the smile. “I’m one of those guys who believe in second chances, you know? People screw up, they shouldn’t have their lives ruined.” His hands formed fists as he spoke these words.

  “We all screw up, don’t we?” Storm said, trying to quell what looked like a brewing storm. “Do you know how to get to Tanner’s cabin? I’d like to see him, and check on the boy.”

  Skelly frowned. “Connor and I helped him get the generator back there, but we swore not to tell anyone.” His dark eyes met Storm’s. “Tanner does some special work at his place. He’s doing research for a big pharmaceutical company, and he doesn’t want anyone going out there, messing with his equipment.”

  When Tanner had called her at the office last week, he’d told her he had inquiries from natural supplement manufacturers for his seaweed extracts. Skelly was exaggerating, but probably out of pride for his friend. Storm decided she could be charitable about that point.

  “You may know he called me to look after Luke. That’s all I’m going to do.”

  “Luke should be with him by now. My brother saw him hitchhiking yesterday.”

  “But he had a long walk after he reached the bay. Do we know if he made it?”

  “Tanner would have radioed if he hadn’t. We would have gone in to help.”

  “He has a two-way?”

  “Sure, we use ’em all the time. You have to be ready to get a visitor out of the wilderness quickly. For example, if an allergic person got a bee sting.”

  Or if you wanted to track someone who threatened you or your friends, Storm thought. “I see what you mean.”

  Skelly was smart, he planned ahead, and he was not going to reveal how to get to Tanner’s cabin. Storm changed tactics. “I’m also looking into the death of Brock Liu for his father.”

  “Yeah, I heard the son-of-a-bitch wants to sue me.” Skelly’s mouth twisted into a bitter sneer.

  “Hey, I’m just doing my job.” Storm held up a hand. “Being straight will help your position.”

  “It wasn’t an accident, and it didn’t happen because of our negligence.” Skelly bit off his words, angry but in control.

  Storm kept her voice low and calm. “I agree, but I need to col
lect information about what did occur. Otherwise, you could get blamed. He apparently rented one of your kayaks.”

  “He did, and he was supposed to pick it up here. Wanted to check some family land near Kalaeloa Lighthouse.” Skelly put extra emphasis on the words family land. “I waited around most of the morning, but he never showed.” He slapped the desk to emphasize his frustration. “That guy’s a pain in the ass. Or he was. Sorry if I seem harsh, but it’s the truth. Ask anyone.”

  “That helps,” Storm said. “I can take that back to the lawyer representing Devon Liu.”

  “That’s not you?” Skelly flexed his hands and leaned back in his chair.

  “No, I told you. I’m not legal counsel for anyone in this case. I’m an independent consultant, I’d guess you’d say.”

  “An investigator?”

  “Not even that,” said Storm.

  “Glad to hear it,” Skelly said, and gave her what looked like the first genuine smile of the interview.

  “I’ve got a couple of questions to satisfy my own curiosity. I’ve known and admired both Tanner and Dusty since my teens. I wasn’t having an easy time of it back then, either, so these guys were important to me.”

  Skelly grinned at this news, and Storm took a deep breath. “Did Tanner get worse after the fire?”

  Skelly turned his chair to look out the window toward the ocean, and Storm could see the muscles bunching along his jaw line. She poised herself to dash for the door when he exhaled explosively, then dropped his head into his hands. “Yeah,” he said in a muffled voice.

  “You have any idea why?” Storm’s voice was gentle.

  “Those were bad times.” Skelly raised his head and Storm could see that his eyes were red, though there was no evidence of tears, and his face was a mask of control. She waited.

  “No one was supposed to get hurt in that fire. We thought Alika was a prick—some of us more than others—but you’ve got to believe me.” His head turned to her and she was reminded of a bull, docile for the moment but unpredictable.