Fire and Vengeance

by Robert McCaw

  Across the bed, Māpuana struggled to her feet, her left hand still on Ikaika’s arm. “The haole doctors say he will be better, maybe not so possessed by angry spirits. I pray the gods to make it so.”

  “I hope so,” he responded.

  “You must help make it so.”

  He felt helpless in the face of her plea. “What can I do? I’m not a doctor. I have no special skill for healing.”

  “Ikaika comes from a good root, but ‘uhane ‘ino, demons, have possessed him. All of us have done bad things … things we regret ….”

  Their eyes locked and Koa suddenly wondered if his mother somehow knew of his confrontation with Hazzard. Logic told him it was impossible, but his mother possessed mystical powers beyond his understanding. The thought sent a chill through him.

  Then she continued, “… but the ‘uhane ‘ino have caused Ikaika to do many, many bad things. They have possessed him and hidden the goodness inside. I know this in my na‘au, the depths of my soul. ‘Ike aku, ‘ike mai, kōkua aku kōkua mai; pēlā ihola ka nohona ‘ohana … family life requires mutual help. You must forgive the pain Ikaika has caused, and find a way to help him … to put your family back together … for my sake … for your ancestors. That too I know in my na‘au.”

  He thought about telling her of his conversation with Walker McKenzie, but it was too speculative. They stood like that for a long time, both holding Ikaika’s hands—Koa hoping his brother survived, while his mother continued her prayerful oli, her chants.

  Koa excused himself, left the hospital, and walked across Punchbowl Street to the Queen Lili‘uokalani Building that housed the Department of Education. His thoughts turned to the KonaWili children. What physiological toll would the disaster inflict on them? Having survived trauma in a supposedly safe place, would they ever feel secure? He wondered if Pele’s wrath would turn some to violence or criminal behavior.

  Na‘auao made him wait nearly forty-five minutes. Her cold reception surprised him only because the state AG had encouraged Zeke to arrange the interview. Once an attractive woman, the years hadn’t been kind to Na‘auao. Her stony face looked brittle, like pieces might chip off, and her once black hair had thinned and turned gray. Still, she radiated an intimidating frigidity. He couldn’t imagine working for this woman, the “Iron Lady” of the DOE.

  He began by thanking her for the meeting.

  “Get to the point, Detective. I’ve got a school system to run.”

  He got to the point. “Did you have an interest in the Hualālai Hui?”

  She glared at him with undisguised malice. “I wasn’t a partner in that hui.”

  That didn’t answer the question. “Did you have any financial interest, Mrs. Na‘auao?”

  “I told you I wasn’t a partner,” she said, clipping her words.

  “That doesn’t answer my question. Were you a participant in any sub-hui?”

  “No.”

  Why had she danced around his questions? If she really didn’t have a financial interest, why not just say so? “Do you know who had undisclosed financial interests in the Hualālai Hui project?”

  “No one’s said there were undisclosed financial interests.”

  She was playing games with him. “I’ll rephrase the question. Do you know of any undisclosed interests?”

  She stared at him for several seconds before letting out a long sigh. “My husband was offered an interest but turned it down. We don’t invest in school projects.”

  Koa felt a jolt of electricity. The developer had offered undisclosed interests to entice public officials. “Who approached your husband?”

  She hesitated. Finally, with another sigh, she said, “Cheryl Makela.”

  “How much did she offer?”

  “It never got that far.”

  Gommes had partnered with Makela, and she’d tried to bribe a government official whose approvals were needed to make things happen. Zeke would be thrilled.

  “Do you know of any other undisclosed interests?”

  “I assume shares were offered to planning officials, but I’ve no direct knowledge.”

  “Why do you assume that?”

  She looked at him like a teacher chastising a stupid child. “Because I’ve heard the same rumors you’ve heard. The state’s land-use system is notoriously corrupt, although there’s rarely been any proof.”

  “Who selected the KonaWili school site?”

  “Let me tell you how this works. My former deputy Joanie Pupuka, head of facilities, handled all the school acquisition and construction issues. In the case of KonaWili, the developer offered the site, and the Hawai‘i County planning department approved it. The DOE accepted the planning department recommendation.”

  “Didn’t the DOE do any environmental survey of the site?”

  “The DOE hired land surveyors, not environmental people, to review the site. For environmental issues, we rely on county planning people. The Hawai‘i County planning department prepared an environmental report on KonaWili, and we accepted it.”

  “Were you aware the site is quite far from the main roads with limited access in the event of an emergency?”

  “We look to the county planning people for that sort of thing.”

  “Would it surprise you if the Hawai‘i County planning office never visited the site?”

  “Officially, yes. Unofficially, it wouldn’t have mattered. No one in that department was competent to perform an environmental survey. They just relied on the developer.”

  “So why didn’t the DOE check the environmental suitability of the site?”

  “We supervise two hundred ninety-one public schools. We don’t have time or money to inspect every site, let alone look into local environmental matters.”

  Koa wasn’t surprised she laid responsibility off on the Hawai‘i County planning department, but the DOE hadn’t been completely hands-off. He checked his notes to find Tony Pwalú’s exact words: Hank showed “some haole lady from Honolulu.” Koa considered how he’d phrase his question. Boyle and Witherspoon had been murdered. Tony Pwalú might not have long to live, but Koa didn’t want to get him killed.

  “I have information,” he began, “that a DOE employee visited the site during the early phases of construction. Do you know who that might have been?”

  “That would be unusual. We rely on the county building inspectors to check on construction. If anyone from this office visited the KonaWili site, it would have been Joanie Pupuka.”

  He looked her directly in the eye. “You didn’t visit the site?”

  She stared straight back. “No.”

  Changing tacks, he asked, “How come the DOE paid a premium price—some 40 percent over the average—for the land?”

  “I didn’t like the price, but the developer wouldn’t budge. It was sufficiently out of line so I asked the board. The board approved the price.”

  “Couldn’t you have acquired the site using the state’s power of eminent domain?”

  Her lips tightened and she scowled. “Sure, but that process takes years.”

  She had an answer for everything, so he went for the jugular. “Tell me about the one-point-one-million-dollar change order.”

  She looked at him quizzically. “What change order?”

  He concealed his surprise. She’d signed the change order, so he hadn’t expected her answer. “The change order for one-point-one million in environmental improvements.”

  “That’s news to me.”

  He pulled the document from the folder he’d brought with him and slid it across the table to her. She stared at the document for a long, long time. “Where did you get this?”

  “That doesn’t matter. It bears your signature. What basis did you have to sign it?”

  She picked it up to examine the signature. “I didn’t. My office uses Signoscript machines. This looks like a machine signature. Joanie had signing authority.”

  “You’re telling me you didn’t authorize this change order?”


  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  “Did you know about the change order?”

  “No.”

  “Is that the KonaWili file?” He pointed to a thick folder on her desk.

  “Yes.” She pushed the documents toward him. He leafed through the file without finding the change order. “The basic contract is here, but no change order.”

  “Like I said, I knew nothing about any change order.”

  “The change order is for environmental improvements. What environmental improvements would have been needed at KonaWili?”

  “None, so far as I know.”

  “Did anyone ever tell you there was a volcanic vent under that school?”

  “No.”

  “Would you be surprised to learn that the contractor knew about the vent and filled it with concrete?”

  “It would shock the hell out of me.”

  The interview was turning out to be a bust. He’d learned Makela had offered Na‘auao’s husband an interest in the development, but not much else. He needed to interview Joanie Pupuka. “I’d like to talk to Ms. Pupuka.”

  “Good luck. She died in a car crash three months ago.”

  Shit. He’d run up against a wall. Well, almost. He had one further avenue to pursue.

  Koa left Francine Na‘auao’s office and walked several blocks past the capitol into Honolulu’s Chinatown. He stopped in the mouth of an alley, checking to make sure he hadn’t been followed, before ducking down the alley and around a corner to a small Thai curry house. It was far enough from the DOE headquarters so he, and more importantly, his luncheon guest, wouldn’t be observed by the wrong people. Inside, the rich smell of southeast Asian spices assaulted him. He made his way past the lunch crowd to a booth in the back corner, screened from the main part of the eatery.

  “Aloha, Koa,” Christina Waters greeted him. In her late-thirties with blond hair, blue eyes, and a cherubic face, she wore a conservative light blue dress. He studied the pale smooth skin of her face. His fingers and lips had once touched every facet of that face.

  “Aloha,” he replied, sliding into the booth opposite her.

  “You’re looking good,” she said with a genuine smile.

  “You, too, Christina.” They’d been an item years ago but parted friends when she’d left the Big Island for a state-level job. His current girlfriend, Nālani, wouldn’t be thrilled he was with an old flame, but he had good reason, and Nālani didn’t need to know.

  Her face darkened. “Such a tragedy at KonaWili.”

  “Unimaginable, Christina. I never thought I’d see anything like it.”

  “I hear you risked your life to save some of those kids.”

  “Yeah, well, we didn’t save enough. Fourteen kids and four teachers died. And all because of a conspiracy among reckless people.”

  “You’ve got a mess with the investigation.”

  “Yeah, and Na‘auao didn’t help.”

  “Your meeting with he‘e didn’t go so well?”

  “The octopus? Is that what you call her?” Koa asked.

  “Only behind her back. She’s smart as hell and her tentacles reach everywhere.”

  “Funny, because she laid the fault off on Joanie Pupuka and the Hilo planning office.”

  Christina frowned. “Poor Joanie. A terrible accident. Reminds me how fragile life is.” She pushed a menu across the table to him. “Order us some curry like old times, and then I’ll tell you about life in the DOE.”

  He ordered soft shrimp spring rolls, octopus with red chilies, chicken say-ta, fish cakes, and green curry with beef. His memory of Christina’s favorites surprised him.

  “I can’t believe she laid it off on Joanie.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “You have to understand that Na‘auao controls everything in the department with an iron fist. That’s how she’s maintained control for so long.”

  “You’re saying, it’s unlikely Joanie signed a change order without Na‘auao’s knowledge?”

  “Flat out impossible. Joanie didn’t order paperclips without Na‘auao’s blessing. Let me show you something.” She pulled a thick sheaf of papers from her bag. “This is the DOE capital budget for the fiscal year when we built KonaWili. These things are guarded like the crown jewels.” She flipped to a page flagged with a sticky. “Here’s the breakdown on KonaWili.”

  Koa scanned several pages. They showed an extensive breakdown of the acquisition and construction costs for the school building. Following the various categories for the initial contract, a separate breakdown categorized the change order—additional grading, reinforcing rods, concrete, sealants, etcetera.

  “That’s Na‘auao’s bible,” Christina said. “She goes over the updated version of that document four times a year. The review takes a full week. She makes her subordinates justify every single line item, and she often revises authorizations or dumps whole projects. There’s no way a one-point-one-million-dollar change order escaped her attention. No way.”

  Koa looked back at the breakdown for the change order. The largest entry read “miscellaneous” and accounted for $600,000. Looking back up at Christina, he asked, “Any idea what’s buried in miscellaneous?”

  “I saw that entry. It’s weird. Look through the rest of the capital budget; you won’t find many miscellaneous entries and none even a fraction so large. Na‘auao hates undefined categories. She’d burn my ass if I’d put something like that in the budget.”

  Koa nodded. He had already guessed the six-hundred-thousand-dollar entry hid bribes or other shady payments.

  “Can I keep this document?”

  “Yes. But you didn’t get it from me. If she found out I gave you that document, I’d be persona non grata throughout the Hawaiian government.”

  “She’s that powerful?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “You said Na‘auao controls everything in the department with an iron fist. Does that alone explain why she’s run the department for so many years?”

  Christina looked at him for a long time. He sensed her indecision before she finally said, “I shouldn’t be telling you this stuff.”

  “Fourteen kids died, Christina. They deserve justice.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you, but I’ll deny it if anyone ever asks. Na‘auao’s got some hold over the governor. Maybe it’s some campaign finance irregularity. Maybe it’s something else. I don’t know the details.”

  “How do you know about this?”

  “One Saturday I was entering her office when I heard her talking to the governor on the phone. She threatened him. I quietly backed away and left the building. I never want her to find out I overheard part of that conversation.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you heard?”

  “More than I wanted to hear.”

  Koa left first to make sure no one would discover their meeting. On the way back to the Big Island, he reviewed the bidding. Na‘auao had lied. She’d known about and approved the change order. What other lies had she told? About an investment in the KonaWili development? About visiting the school site? About knowing of the volcanic vent? The KonaWili conspiracy was expanding like an ‘o‘opu hue, pufferfish, and, like the puffer, it held deadly poisons.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  KOA WAS CONVINCED that Witherspoon’s office had been ransacked in an unsuccessful effort to find something the man had hidden. He called Mrs. Witherspoon, hoping she might shed light on the secret. She agreed to meet but warned she’d have only a few minutes. She greeted him dressed in a frilly pink blouse and sleek red silk skirt. A gold chain with a diamond pendant around her neck completed the picture of a woman far from mourning. She invited him in, but he sensed no warmth.

  “Tell me what you need. I have a luncheon engagement.”

  Koa pressed her for any clue as to where Arthur might have hidden a treasured secret.

  “There’s nothing,” she responded all too easily with a bored tone, giving Koa the impression she hadn’
t tried. Yes, she searched their bank safe deposit box—“it’s just jewelry and some old papers.” Yes, she reviewed everything in Arthur’s home office, but—“he didn’t spend much time there, and I didn’t find anything.” They’d stored some old things in the attic, but layers of dust confirmed no one had been up there in years.

  He tried to question her about Arthur’s friends, but she displayed little interest in her deceased husband. Koa concluded Arthur had been a man with many clients, few friends, and none who mattered to his wife. “We had no social life,” she said with obvious regret. “Arthur worked from dawn to dusk. I urged him to hire assistants, but he resisted. He didn’t trust assistants.”

  “But he had an assistant for big jobs,” Koa responded.

  “Well, yes, some kid,” she said, “more of a step-and-fetch-it clerk than an assistant. She made copies, delivered plans to the printers and to clients, made coffee, things like that.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Sally something … I don’t know.”

  Koa recalled seeing Sally Medea’s name on papers in Arthur’s office. Medea, he’d thought at the time, like the name of the Euripides play Medea he’d seen during his days at UH.

  “Sally Medea?”

  Mrs. Witherspoon shook her head. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Do you know where I might find her?”

  That elicited another shake of the head. “Are we done? I really do have an engagement.”

  In failing to find what he sought, Koa gained a troubling insight. The Witherspoons’ relationship had been sterile, a marriage long since dried up, like an unwatered garden. That cast Arthur’s death in a new light and made him think Sarah Witherspoon should be a suspect.

  At Koa’s request, Sergeant Basa located Sally Medea, Arthur Witherspoon’s “step-and-fetch-it” assistant. Koa called her. A single mother with a young son, she suggested he come to her apartment.

  He found the complex quite upscale—not at all what he expected. Sally, dressed in a long skirt and matching blue silk blouse, looked to be in her late-thirties. With luxurious long brunette hair and a full figure, she exuded subtle sexuality along with a cheerful open face and an easy smile. Her large green eyes sparkled with a captivating intensity. She led him through a lavishly furnished apartment to her kitchen. Someone with a decorator’s eye had selected a stylish combination of modern leather and steel furnishings, painted the walls in lively contrasting colors, and picked out attractive artwork. He knew without asking that Arthur Witherspoon had selected the framed pictures and architectural drawings of cathedrals on the walls.