Aloha Betrayed (10 page)

“You must have been very fond of Mala,” I said to her.

She didn’t verbally respond, but her eyes took on a glassiness as she trained them upward. Mike and I watched as her lips moved silently, as though speaking to an unseen person in the room.

“She knows,” she finally said, taking a deep breath and nodding emphatically.

“Pardon?” I said.

“She knows,” she repeated.

“Who knows?” Mike asked.

“Uli.”

“The goddess?” Mike said.

“Uli knows everything. She knows what happened to Mala.”

I started to say something, but Mike raised an index finger to stop me.

“Those who did bad things to Mala also pray to Uli. She knows who they are. They will be punished.”

She looked from Mike to me without saying any more and walked from the room.

“What was that all about?” I whispered to Mike.

“Uli is our heavenly mother,” he said in hushed tones. “She was married to our creator, Eli Eli. Hawaiians believe that Uli beholds all justice and righteousness. Nothing escapes her all-seeing eye. When she gave instructions from above, the
kāhuna
always nabbed their man. The police have benefited many times, thanks to Uli.”

“Has she ever helped you as a detective?” I asked.

“Sure. I’ve had suspects spill their guts because they’re convinced that Uli tells them to. I’m not a religious man, Jessica, but I don’t discount anything.” He surveyed the room. “We done here?”

“Yes. For now.”

We said good-bye and thanked Auntie Edie and Mala’s cousins before leaving the house and getting into Mike’s SUV.

“What’s next on your agenda?” he asked.

“I’d like to revisit the place where Mala fell,” I said, thinking aloud, “but I need to go there at night.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to suggest that you drive me.”

“You don’t want me to tag along?”

“But I’ve taken you away from your wife and family long enough.”

“Lani’s used to me being away. No problem. I’ll give her a call and tell her we’re going to have dinner. She can join us, if she wants. That sound good to you?”

“It sounds wonderful.”

But Lani declined our invitation, preferring to stay home to watch
Masterpiece
on PBS. “Have a good time,” I heard her tell Mike before he snapped his cell phone shut.

“Please remind me to buy your understanding wife a special present before I leave Maui.”

“She’d be flattered,” he said.

“What would she like?”

“I’m the wrong person to ask. I may have solved a lot of crimes over the course of my career, but I never seem to pick the right gift for Lani.”

“Then you won’t be of any help in the gift department.”

“Afraid not. But I do have one suggestion.”

“Which is?”

“Ask the goddess Uli. She knows everything.”

“I just might do that.”

Mike navigated the SUV through traffic and started whistling a tune.

“Didn’t you tell me it was bad luck to whistle?”

“Only after dark. It’s not dark yet.”

Pūp
ūkahi I Holomua
—
Unite to Move Forward

H
ad Mike not offered to take me to dinner, I would have opted for something simple at the hotel, maybe room service. Knowing where to eat when traveling is always problematic unless someone you trust gives you a recommendation. Without that, you tend to end up in a place that’s convenient (and maybe not with the best food) or a touristy restaurant whose dishes are budget busters.

But with a Maui legend leading the way, we ended up in a tiny café off the beaten track, where Mike was greeted like one of the numerous Hawaiian gods. The woman who owned the spot was also the chef and prepared for us what Mike said was her specialty, opah, a rich, creamy baked moonfish that Mike said was the Hawaiian good-luck fish, often given as a gift. It was delicious.

The rain had resumed and came down in torrents during dinner, but by the time we’d finished the entrée it had stopped again. We lingered over strong coffee and a dessert that the owner called
kalamai haupia
, pudding that was more the consistency of Jell-O. She told us that it was a secret recipe using masa harina, corn flour of the type used to make tortillas. I would never have ordered it on my own, but the result was sublime.

“I never want to eat again,” I said as we bid farewell to the owner and went to Mike’s SUV. The sun had just set, painting the sky with vivid streaks of red and orange and yellow. I stood by the open passenger door and took in the spectacular beauty of the horizon.

“Do you ever get tired of the sunsets?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t say I’m tired of them, but I don’t much notice them anymore—unless, of course, I’m with a visitor who does.”

Mike was in a chatty mood as we drove toward Wailea and the coastal walk, which ran behind the south shore’s condominiums and resorts, including the one at which Bob and Elaine Lowell were staying. With any luck we wouldn’t run into them.

The sky was blanketed with stars by the time we left the car and headed for the place from which Mala had fallen. Fallen? Had she fallen, or had someone pushed her to her death? While I regarded our destination as the scene of the crime, I had a sinking feeling that Mala’s death might never be considered anything but a tragic accident. In the murder mystery novels I’d written, the crime is always solved in the final pages and the murderer brought to justice. But I knew only too well that in real life things didn’t always work that way. Many murders go unsolved every day, and years go by with the family and friends of the victims never enjoying that sense of closure we hear so much about. Sometimes, through dogged work by a detective obsessed with a particular murder, a cold case becomes hot again and the perpetrator is made to pay for his or her crime. But that doesn’t happen frequently—not frequently enough to suit me.

The heavy rain had soaked the ground, making it mushy as we walked across the vast grassy field toward the path, the beam of Mike’s flashlight swinging back and forth in front of us. Mike’s previous talkativeness had abated. He was silent as we navigated the narrow walkway, and I didn’t say anything to break the mood. There was a pleasant chill in the air; a refreshing breeze came off the water.

We reached the spot where the police said Mala had fallen. The grass was still trampled; the rain had slicked down the blades. A vision of her going over the edge came to me, and I shuddered involuntarily.

“You all right?” Mike asked.

“I’m fine. I was just envisioning Mala falling to her death on the rocks below.”

“Not a pretty picture.”

I took a few tentative steps toward the edge. Mike grabbed my arm. “Hey, we don’t need a second body down there,” he cautioned.

I looked down at my shoes, then at the grassy edge. “Something bothers me,” I said, almost to myself.

“What?”

“This is where Mala supposedly fell,” I said.

“Right,” Mike concurred.

“But—”

“But what?”

“Look at the ground. If she had slipped, the grass would have been mashed down at the very edge. But it isn’t. It’s trampled down here a few feet from the edge, undoubtedly by at least two pairs of shoes, but isn’t flattened where she would have lost her footing.”

“You mentioned that there were various pairs of shoes before, Jessica, but that doesn’t prove anything. Some of the prints were probably made by cops with big feet.”

“You may be right, Mike, but I remember what you said the first time we came here, that you couldn’t fathom why someone as young and physically fit as Mala would lose her balance.”

“Maybe she was high on some drug.”

I shook my head. “Somehow I don’t believe it. Mala struck me as someone who didn’t like to lose control. But I guess it’s a question we should ask.”

“The other alternative is that someone pushed her,” he said flatly.

“I’m more convinced than ever that that’s what happened. Maybe not a deliberate shove, but her fall had to have involved others. The way I see it, after she was pushed, she grabbed this bush and went over the edge grasping the leaves. That’s why it was assumed that she’d died while trying to climb down to pick a plant. It’s probably the same plant that’s up here.”

When he didn’t say anything, I turned and faced him.

“Am I right?” I asked.

“You are very right,” he said. “The scenario you’re painting matches perfectly with what I’ve been thinking since the morning we first came here.”

“You’ve had that opinion all along?” I said.

He nodded, and the moonlight caught the mischievous grin on his face. “You’re probably assuming that I’m just saying it to make it sound as though I don’t want to be outdone by you.”

“I wasn’t assuming that at all,” I said.

“But if you were, you’re wrong. To be honest, I wanted to see whether a famous writer of murder mysteries would pick up on something like that. Well, you have, and I’d be more comfortable if you would take a few steps back.”

I did as he suggested. “Behind that pleasant facade, Detective Kane is a devious man.”

He bowed slightly. “Deviousness is an important asset for any detective, Jessica.”

“Like don’t-give-upness?”

“Precisely. Don’t-give-upness and deviousness. Both sides of the coin. I take your comment as a supreme compliment.”

“You devil,” I said, and started to laugh.

“We make a good team,” he said.

“I’m flattered to be a part of it.”

“There’s something my teammate should know,” he said.

“Which is?”

“When I checked my cell phone after dinner, I saw that Detective Tahaki e-mailed me the coroner’s report.”

“On Mala?”

“Yup. Good man, Henry. I knew I could count on him.”

“What did the report say, Mike?”

“It seems that the autopsy on Ms. Kapule wasn’t very instructive. There was no alcohol in her bloodstream. She had numerous abrasions on her head and body, some of which held traces of the sort of lava rock where she fell. Her lungs were clear, suggesting she was already dead before the body washed into the water. The foliage in her hand was of a type consistent with bushes throughout the island, including up here. Toxicology report to come.”

“Were there any wounds that might have been inflicted before she went over the edge?”

“By her murderer, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing definitive.”

“But if she was pushed, wouldn’t there be marks on her body?”

“I don’t see how, unless she struggled.”

“Of course, if someone bumped into her and she lost her footing on the wet grass and fell, is that murder?”

Mike smiled. “Good questions, Mrs. Fletcher. Like I said, we make a good team. Come on, I’ll drive you back to your hotel.”

The thought of getting back to my room, where I could take a hot shower, get dressed for bed, and curl up with a good book until sleep arrived, was a welcome contemplation. It had been an eventful day: my difficult call to Seth; the challenging class that morning; the barbecue in Iao Valley; visiting Mala’s home and meeting her family; the pleasant dinner; followed by the disturbing visit to where Mala had met her death. It was a lot to contemplate and I was exhausted.

Mike walked in the direction from which we’d come and disappeared around a bend, but I remained transfixed near the grassy edge of the path. It was almost as though Mala were standing next to me, peering down at the rugged lava rocks and swirling waters below. I was deep into this reverie when I suddenly sensed someone behind me. Before I could turn, a pair of hands gripped my shoulders. I screamed as the hands pulled me back, almost causing me to lose my footing. There was a loud flapping of wings as startled birds rose in the air, making such a noise that I couldn’t hear myself think.

The grip was released, and I spun around to be face- to-face with a tall man with a square, chiseled face on which a thick mustache curved down around the edges of his mouth.

“Who are you?” I said, struggling to catch my breath.

“I should ask you the same thing,” he said.

“Why did you come up behind me and frighten me like that?”

“To keep you from going over the edge.”

The man wore a white terry-cloth bathrobe over pajamas and slippers.

“Well,” I said, “you might have meant well, but you could have at least said something to warn me instead of just grabbing me.”

“What are you doing here at night?” he asked, his arms folded over his chest.

“I was— I’m here with—”

Mike suddenly appeared. “Are you all right, Jessica?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said. “This gentleman surprised me, that’s all. And apparently my reaction woke up the birds.”

“Those francolins make a racket; best alarm clock there is.” Mike lifted his chin at the man. “What did you want?”

“I asked what she was doing here,” the man said.

“Taking a walk,” Mike said. “It’s public property. You live here?”

“That’s right.” He pointed to the house where we’d met Koko and his grandmother.

“You’re Koko’s father?” I said.

“How do you know my son?” He tilted his head, appraising me.

“Look,” Mike said, “Mrs. Fletcher and I are here because of what happened to her friend, Mala Kapule, the lady who went over the cliff. You know about that?”

“Of course I know about it. I was afraid that this lady was about to suffer the same fate.”

I looked past him and saw Koko in his pajamas and straw cowboy hat standing on the patio. Moonlight reflected off his glasses.

“We haven’t been formally introduced,” I said, extending my hand. “Jessica Fletcher.”

He hesitated before accepting my greeting and giving me a tentative shake but had no compunction about reaching for Mike’s outstretched hand.

“Kane. Mike.”

“You the ones who spoke to my son a day or two ago?”

“That’s right,” I said. “He’s a charming little boy.”

This brought forth the first smile from the father. “Warren Mohink,” he said.

“Pleased to meet you,” Mike said. “You and your wife must be proud of your son.”

“He doesn’t have a mother,” Mohink said. “She died a few years ago. My mother lives with us and takes care of Koko while I’m at work.”

“You work near here?” Mike asked.

“The Thompson sugar mill. I’m a production manager.”

“As long as we’re standing here,” Mike said, “let me ask whether you saw or heard anything the night Ms. Kapule died. Mrs. Fletcher and I already asked your son when we met him.”

“The kid don’t know anything,” Mohink said quickly—too quickly, as far as I was concerned. “He was sound asleep all night. Hope he didn’t tell you different. Kona’s got a big imagination, makes stuff up.” He waved his hand behind him. “This week he’s a cowboy. Next week could be Batman. Happens all the time since his mother died. We told the other officers and that lady who came that we didn’t see or hear anything.”

“What lady was that?” I asked.

Mohink shrugged. “Said she was friend of the woman who died. Wanted to know if we’d seen it happen. I told her the same thing I’m telling you.”

“What did she look like?” Mike asked.

Mohink yawned. “She looked like a woman, that’s all, nothing special about her. Kind of blond, maybe. I wasn’t really paying attention. Kona was driving me crazy crying and trying to hide under his bed. I left the lady with my mother and went inside.”

“Would you recognize her if you saw her again?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Look, it’s late. I gotta work tomorrow.”

“Of course,” I said. “Sorry if I overreacted when you came up behind me.”

“Just didn’t want to see you go over the way she did. I’ll say good night now.”

“Good night,” Mike and I said in unison.

We watched him cross the expanse of lawn leading to his house.

“But, Daddy, I wasn’t—”

“Not now, Koko.” He ushered his son inside and closed the sliding doors behind them.

We headed back to where Mike had parked his car at the hotel. Halfway there I stopped and wrapped my arms about myself.

“You all right?” Mike asked.

“I just have this hunch that the boy knows more than he told us the day we met, and the adults in his life are trying to keep him from talking about it.”

“You think he saw something?”

“I don’t know,” I said as we resumed walking. “Even if he does know something, getting him alone won’t be easy. His father is as protective of the boy as the grandmother was. And of course a child doesn’t always understand what he sees.”

We didn’t say much else on the drive back to my hotel.

“I can’t thank you enough for indulging me,” I said as he pulled into the parking lot.

“No worries, Jessica. What do you have on tap tomorrow?”

“I’m going to attend the meeting of the group that Mala was involved with, the one protesting the construction of the telescope, but that’s not until seven at night. No plans before that.”

“I have to put in some time at the hotel where I work, but I’ll be free in the afternoon.”

“I’ve imposed upon you enough, Mike.”

“Nonsense. You obviously want to spend the day digging deeper into Mala’s life and whatever might shed light on her death. I’m at your disposal. After all, we’re now a team.”