by Mark Troy
We hugged and Teri got out glasses and wine. Then came the inevitable question.
“How could it happen, Val? Melissa is the best steerswoman on the water. She could steer a canoe through a button hole.”
“In that sea?”
“In any sea.”
“Did you see Nani get hit?”
“No. She went under a swell. I thought she’d come up under the iako and then I’d make the flop. But she never did. I looked and I saw her looking up at me just underneath the surface. But she wasn’t moving and she was outside the ama.”
The ama is the outrigger float. It’s held out from the hull of the canoe by the pair of iako.
“Outside the ama? I’d have thought she’d be closer to the canoe if she’d just been hit by it.”
Teri shrugged. “I guess she was caught by the same wave that hit us. God, Val! I feel terrible for Bruce.”
I nodded. It was no secret among a team who shared eight months of sweat and pain that Nani and Bruce had been lovers. “I feel terrible for Melissa,” I said. “I hope she can get her confidence back.”
* * * * *
I woke up the next morning with a massive hangover and a purple tongue from Teri’s wine. About noon, I called Melissa who agreed to meet me at a Chinese place for noodles.
Of the women on the team, Melissa is the prettiest. She has a heart-shaped face, large brown eyes, and smooth, luminous skin. I would sell my reproductive rights for her skin. On this day, she was anything but pretty. Her skin was blotchy and her eyes had dark crescents under them. Her cheeks looked hollow.
“How are you doing?” I asked after we sat down.
“Not good, but who is? I haven’t slept. Have you?”
“I’ve been unconscious.”
“I wish I were,” she said. “Nani was my best friend. I killed her.”
“Melissa, listen to me. It wasn’t your fault. The sea was rough, very rough. Nobody could keep control in those waves.”
“But that’s just it, Val. I had control. Once the girls were in the water, I held the line.”
“What about the rogue wave?”
“It was just a small wave and I corrected for it.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve lain awake for the better part of two nights now seeing it. Yes, I’m sure.”
“Tell me exactly what you saw.”
Melissa stared over my shoulder, collecting her thoughts, then she said, “I had the line. Nani was in the water on the port side where she was supposed to be. From my position I could only see the top of her cap, but that was all I needed. You flopped out and a wave hit us on the starboard side. I had to fight the steering paddle. I could feel the prow lift and then dig into the water.”
“So you didn’t actually see it hit Nani.”
“No.”
“And if you held the line, how did she get in the way?”
“A wave could have pushed her into our path.”
“But that would have had to have come from the opposite direction of the wave that hit the canoe. And then a third wave would have come from a third direction because, when Teri saw her, she was outside the ama. It doesn’t seem possible, does it?”
Melissa’s eyes glistened with tears. “I don’t know, Val,” she said. “But I held the line.”
The waiter brought our food. I dug into my plate of noodles but Melissa only picked at hers. She said, “Did you know Nani was planning to leave Bruce?” “No,” I said.
“She was. For a woman.”
“Who?”
“Does it matter now?”
“I guess not,” I said. Then, as an afterthought, “Was it you?”
She nodded, almost imperceptibly.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“I know you are. Val, do you still have Nani’s cap?”
“Yes.” I’d reached the escort boat in time to help Bruce lift Nani aboard. He and I worked fruitlessly to resuscitate her. When it became obvious that there was no more hope, I cradled her head in my lap and held her for the trip back. After we’d reached shore and her body was taken away, I discovered I had her cap. Not wanting to discard it, I took it back to my apartment.
“I’d like to have it, if that’s all right with you. It will help to remember her.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll bring it by.”
* * * * *
After leaving Melissa, I went to my office and called the other team members. By early evening, I’d talked to each of them. Not one of them had actually seen the canoe hit Nani.
At seven I headed back to my apartment. I found Bruce sitting by my front door, his back against it and his eyes closed. He opened his eyes at the sound of my footsteps.
“Hey, where’ve you been?” he said. “I thought you might want some dinner.”
“I’ve been working,” I said.
“Working? Ah yes, the investigation business. Val Lyon, Private Eye.”
Any suggestion that someone on the team had a professional life outside the canoe always surprised Bruce. His reaction on those occasions seemed more like jealousy than curiosity. Maybe that was to be expected from someone who’d exhorted, enticed and nudged us into a team over eight months of twice-daily practices. Before, we were a bunch of athletic women; now we were Wahine O Ka Hoe, Women of the Paddle. As a team, we were Bruce’s creation. Sometimes, we were entirely his.
He got up and stood aside while I unlocked the door. As it swung open he slid his arms around me. I raised my face to him and let him kiss me. His tongue probed my lips, insistently, but I pulled away.
“Hey! Why are you so cold?” he asked, following me into the apartment.
“It’s not a good time for this, Bruce. You know why. I feel like I’m betraying Nani.”
“C’mon, Val. We’ve been over this ground. It was over between me and Nani before you and I ever started.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“You know I didn’t. We agreed I’d wait until after the race.”
“You agreed. I don’t remember being asked.”
“Val, this is hard on everybody. Can we drop it for the time being? I don’t feel good about the way it turned out, either. I wish I’d been up front with her instead of sneaking around behind her back.”
In fact, we hadn’t done that much sneaking. We’d gone out together only five times. We hadn’t slept together until the third time. So far, our affair had been casual rather than serious. I knew all about his relationship with Nani, and I was not about to get serious with a man on the rebound.
I opened beers for both of us. Bruce took his to my couch while I busied myself unloading the dishwasher. I said, “Bruce, did you see the canoe hit Nani?”
“Hunh uh. I was watching Melissa to see how she handled it in those seas.”
“Ten people,” I said. “Right there at the same time and place and not one of them saw the canoe hit her.”
“We were all looking at different things; we had different jobs to do.”
“Did Melissa seem in control of the canoe?”
“Yeah, Melissa had control. Val, I haven’t wanted to say this, but I think she had Nani in her sights.”
“What are you saying, that Melissa murdered Nani, that she hit her deliberately?”
“Maybe she wanted to frighten her, I don’t know. I only know that, if I were in an angry sea looking at a canoe bearing down on me, I would want Melissa steering. Unless I’d pissed her off.”
“Melissa was pissed at Nani?”
“You know Melissa’s orientation.” It was a statement, not a question. “Nani rejected her. ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,’ and all that, regardless of sexual preference.”
“Nani told you that?” The last of the dishes were put away. I picked up Nani’s cap from the counter where it had been since the accident. It had a big brownish-red stain on the left side.
“Yeah. She was afr
aid to be alone with Melissa.”
Bruce joined me in the kitchen. He noticed the cap in my hand. “Nani’s?” he asked.
“I was going to wash it.” Besides the blood stain, there were a few strands of hair stuck to the material. I picked them off and laid them reverently on a paper napkin. Turning the cap over in my hand, I felt something sharp poke my finger. On close look, it was a narrow wood splinter sticking through the fabric.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” I put the cap back on the counter. “I can’t do this, right now.”
He put his arms around my shoulders. “Then leave it. Let me take you to dinner. After that we can go to my place and I’ll make you forget all of this.”
I pecked him on the cheek and pushed him away. “Not now, Bruce. I need to deal with this myself. Give me a couple days.” I pushed him towards the door. His face darkened and he started to protest, but I kissed him full on the mouth. “Trust me, Bruce. I’ll call you.” I shut the door behind him.
Something he’d said stuck in my mind. “If I were in an angry sea looking at a canoe bearing down on me,” he’d said. If she was looking at the canoe, then how could it strike her behind her ear?
* * * * *
I called each of the team and told them I believed Nani had been murdered. I also told them where I would be. At nine o’clock I drove to the Hawaii Yacht Club marina.
When it was clear that nothing could be done for Nani, we had dropped out of the race and sailed to the yacht club with the canoe in tow. Like zombies, we had gone through the motions of putting the canoe in the shed and berthing the support boat. To my knowledge, nobody had been back since.
The support boat rocked at its mooring. It was a sport fisherman with plenty of room for all of the gear we’d need in the race -- medical supplies, replacement fluids, four extra paddles. A blue tarp covered the cockpit. I lifted a corner and crawled underneath and swung my flashlight around. The paddles were stacked neatly alongside the port gunwales, their varnished blades reflected the light back at me. If I was right, one of them was the weapon that had killed Nani. The wood splinter in her cap could not have come from an impact with a fiberglass hull; it could only have come from a paddle.
Holding the flashlight in my teeth, I examined each paddle blade in the light and ran my hand over the edges. They were perfectly smooth. There wasn’t a nick or splinter on any of them. I was sure the splinter in Nani’s cap had come from one of them. How could I have been so wrong? I sat back on my heels and looked at the three paddles again. Three! One paddle was missing.
Suddenly something heavy slammed my shoulder through the tarp. I heard a sharp crack, as of a bone breaking, and felt a searing pain. I screamed and fell onto my face on the deck. The flashlight rolled up against the gunwale. My right arm was numb, my shoulder felt as though it had been ripped from my body.
Through the veil of pain I heard Bruce shouting. “Whoever you are, you’re trespassing. Come out now.” The tarp came off and Bruce was silhouetted against the night sky.
“Oh! Val, is that you?” His voice had a tone of mock surprise. He held up a canoe paddle. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, threatening. “Is this the one you’re looking for?”
I pulled myself into a sitting position against the bulkhead. A wave of agony passed over me; my right arm hung useless. Even if I could get a paddle, I couldn’t swing it effectively.
Bruce said, “I knew you suspected me when you found that splinter.”
“You weren’t going to leave her, were you?” I said through gritted teeth.
“Why should I?”
“Of course, why should you? You could have it all -- Nani, me, the team.” I tried to pull myself up higher against the bulkhead to take some of the pressure off my injured arm. My hand brushed against something hard and cylindrical. The fire extinguisher. I said, “Have you slept with anyone else on the team?”
“Val, we don’t have to do this. You could forget everything you know. Nani’s death was a tragic accident. Melissa might go through a tough period under suspicion, but it won’t amount to anything. You and me could go on as we were.”
“For how long? Until I decide to leave, too? When did she tell you she was leaving you?”
“The night before the race at Hale O Lono Harbor.”
The pain was enough to keep me alert. I eased the fire extinguisher out of the clips, hoping he wouldn’t see in the darkness, covering the noise with talk. “So you stewed on it all night -- how dare she leave you -- and when the canoe was out of sight and the other girls were in the water you seized the chance. You were lucky, Bruce. One of the girls could have seen you or the boat captain could have turned around. Then you had to make sure it was you who went to her rescue. Was she alive when you reached her, Bruce? My guess is she was, but by then she couldn’t struggle.”
“She didn’t. I don’t think you’ll be able to struggle much, either. We’re running out of time, Val. Make your decision. I promise, we can go on as we were, but you have to forget all this. It’s up to you.”
“I don’t have much choice, do I? I’m hurt Bruce. I need help.”
He lowered the paddle and stepped into the cockpit. As he reached out to me, I raised the fire extinguisher and blasted it into his face. I followed it with a kick to his mid-section and he staggered back, into the arms of Teri and Holly who had quietly come onto the dock behind him. The rest of the team were there, too. They held Bruce for the police and called an ambulance for me.
“Women of the paddle stick together,” I heard Teri say as I passed out.
END
Wahine O Ka Hoe was originally published in Murderous Intent Mystery Magazine, 1998
DROP DEAD ZONE
The lyrics to American Pie tumbled through my head: This will be the day that I die.
I sat on the floor of the Cessna, knees to chest, bound in a webbed harness that clamped the blood flow below my crotch and squashed my boobs like a medieval breast band. My insides churned like chem lab beakers.
How did I manage to get myself into this situation? In a word: adrenaline. Not enough in the detecting business.
Besides the pilot, whose name I didn’t know, the others in the plane were Art Sorel, the jumpmaster, Tori Reber, my parachute instructor, and a cameraman I knew only as Justin. Justin was along to record the jump. My first.
“How are you feeling?” asked Tori.
“Scared,” I said.
“You should be,” said Art. “It’s normal”
“So how many jumps before I get over it?”
“Only a madman like Art ever gets over it,” said Tori.
Art pounded his chest. “Tarzan no fear.”
“I wish you had a little fear,” said Tori.
“I used to, Darling, before you started packing for me. Now, I get a perfect parachute every time.”
“And you don’t do anymore low pulls,” she said.
“Nope,” he said, and I thought I detected, even above the throb of the engine, a note of sadness. “Your love has made a cautious man of me.”
“It sounds like you two are an item,” I said.
“Ten months today,” said Tori. “Hey, Artie love, let’s do a lip dock after Val pulls. Justin, can get it on tape. You don’t mind, do you Val?”
“What’s a lip dock?” I asked.
“This,” said Tori. She pulled Art to her and kissed him full on the mouth. They were both breathing hard when they separated. “It’s even better at 120 miles per hour,” she said.
“Wow!” said Art. “I could ride that kiss to the ground. Bet you break it off first, Babe.”
“No games,” said Tori. “We break off together.”
“Hey, Ken and Barbie,” said Justin. “Break off high enough your auto cutters don’t fire and cause an entanglement.”
The auto cutter was a life saver, a fail-safe,
the goal line stand against oblivion. I had one on my harness. So did Art and Tori. Justin didn’t. If I was still falling at 1,800 feet, the auto cutter would open my reserve parachute. Just to reassure myself, I stole a quick look at the device. The indicator said, “jump.”
“Two thousand, no lower,” said Tori.
“Will that be high enough?” I asked. “Doesn’t it fire at 1,800?”
Tori favored me with a smile. “Yours does, because you need the altitude. We’ll have an 800 foot cushion.” She turned to Art. “2K, loverboy. Okay?”
Art nodded. He looked at his altimeter. “12,500,” he said. “We’re on jump run.”
Oh, God! My heart dove to the pit of my stomach. All the talk about lip docking had distracted me from the climb to altitude.
“Are you ready to skydive?” asked Tori.
My brain screamed, “No!” but my mouth, as it has so often, betrayed me. “Yes,” I said.
“Follow me out the door,” said Art. He swung the door up. A rush of white noise, wind and cold assaulted my senses. The ground was a blur. The distance from the door to the step over the wheel looked as wide as a canyon. Somehow I crossed it, hung onto the strut with Art on one side and Tori on the other. I checked with each of them and stepped off.
Wind stung my face. Sight, sound and time ran together. Flying like corn flakes in a blender. Art made a circle with thumb and index finger in front of my face. Check altitude! “11,000,” I called first to Art and then to Tori. They grinned back like maniacs. Gave me hand signals. Arch! Legs out! Relax! Yeah, right! 7,000 feet. Justin dropped into view like a marionette. “I love this,” I shouted to the camera. “I love you guys.”
5,500. Time to go. Again, fear sluiced to my brain. From this point I was on my own. I looked, found the handle and pulled. The parachute snapped me back, yanked at my torso. The wind noise cleared. I was vertical, swinging slowly below the most beautiful, square rainbow I’d ever seen. Blue, pink, orange and yellow. The only sound was the soft flapping of the parachute.
I detached my steering lines and made a turn as I’d been instructed. Looking between my feet, I spotted the others below -- two small paper dolls head to head, legs splayed and another one nearby, turned 90 degrees. They had to be 2,000 feet below by now. As I watched, a flower seemed to spring out of the back of the detached doll and blossom into a colorful rectangle. The other two continued to fall before something emerged from the back of one of them. Then my canopy flew me out of range. I made another turn, scanning the area again, and spotted the third paper doll, just before it pulled a long streamer of lines and fabric into the earth.