Aloha Betrayed (13 page)

“Is it one o’clock already?” I said.

“It is, unless you’re still operating on Maine time. What do you have there?”

I showed him the brochures and printed instructions about the trip to Haleakala.

“When are you thinking of going?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Sure you want to?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ve already made the reservation.”

“I’d never talk you out of it, but I will say that riding a bike down those roads can be dangerous. A few years ago they banned tour companies from offering bike rides from the summit. Too many fatalities. You don’t come down off the volcano on bike paths, you know. You share the narrow road with all the cars and trucks, navigating the twenty-nine switchbacks. It’s a scary ride.”

“I’m pretty handy with a bike,” I said. “I use one all the time back home. I have to. I don’t drive.”

Kane’s eyes widened. “You don’t drive?”

“No, and I never wanted to. I admit it’s sometimes inconvenient, but I’ve always managed. I do have a pilot’s license, however.”

His eyes became a little wider. “What else is there to know about this woman named Jessica Fletcher?”

“Just that I had a conversation with Mr. Cale Witherspoon today and find I don’t like the man, not one bit. Feel like taking a ride to see if we can have another talk with a little boy named Kona, also known as Koko?”

“I’m available all afternoon,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me up from the chair. “But if you develop a sudden hankering to fly a plane, count me out. Flying scares me to death.”

He Aha Ka Meahou?
—What’s New?

A
s we drove, I recapped for Mike the brief comments Witherspoon had made at his press conference and my subsequent conversation with the builder.

“Sounds as though you’re not a member of the Witherspoon fan club.”

“You’re safe in saying that, Mike. I found him condescending and arrogant. I probably can think of some more adjectives, but I’m trying to be polite. Oh, I also spoke with a young reporter named LOO-key. He spells it like ‘LUCK-ee.’”

“I know the guy,” he said. “He called my cell phone while I was on my way to the hotel. Told me he’d just spoken to you.”

“He certainly didn’t let any time go by.”

“He’s a nice young man. I’ve met him a couple of times. He’s hot on the Haleakala story. Could do worse than to have a reporter on our side.”

“He wants to write a true crime book about Mala’s death, provided, of course, that murder was involved.”

“If we prove that someone did kill her, I hope he acknowledges us in his book. That would impress my wife.”

“Just learning the truth will be sufficient acknowledgment for me.”

We took our now-familiar route south, parking in the shopping center outside the hotel and walking across the field where the luau had taken place to access the narrow path leading to the house in which Koko lived with his widowed father and grandmother.

“What do you hope to accomplish?” Mike asked.

“I’m not sure, but I have a strong hunch that the boy might have seen something the night Mala died and is afraid to tell anyone.”

“So your idea is to keep showing up until you wear them down?”

“Something like that.”

As we approached what I now thought of as the scene of the crime, Mike said, “Why don’t we try the front door this time. Maybe it will change our luck.”

“If we don’t see anyone in back, we can—”

The house came into view, and it was obvious that something had happened. A patrol car with its lights flashing could be seen on the road in front, and two uniformed officers were on the patio with Koko’s father.

“I hope no one has been injured,” I said as we left the path and stood on the edge of the lawn. One of the officers recognized Mike, waved, and came to us. “’Ey, Kane,” he said.

“Hey, braddah,” Mike replied. “You’ve got a problem here?”

“Not anymore. The man who lives here has a little boy, Kona—adventuresome tyke. We know him well. Mohink’s mother usually takes care of the kid while Dad’s at work at the sugar refinery, but she’s sick; so he brings the kid to work with him. Seems while he’s not watching the boy sneaks off and disappears into the sugar fields. Nothing new; he’s done it before, loves the field for some reason. Anyway, Dad calls us and we send a team to search for the kid, find him hiding there. The father’s real upset, as you can imagine. I told him we’re gonna have to start charging him a finder’s fee the next time. Can’t have the little fella making a habit of this. Anyway, we follow Mohink and his son back to make sure they get settled in. Didn’t want to see anyone get hurt. Pop is one angry dude.”

“Can’t blame him,” Mike said.

“Father and son are both in the house now?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am. ’Ey, Kane, what are you doing here?”

“Taking a walk with Mrs. Fletcher.”

He introduced us.

“I hear you’re working private on the Kapule case,” said the officer. “Hope it pays well.”

Mike laughed away the comment without saying anything. But as the officer turned to leave, Mike asked, “Heard anything new on it?”

The officer stopped and shook his head. “Detective Tahaki says it was an accident, only I do hear that the ME asks why would she climb down to pick a plant already growing on the top?”

“These scientists, you never know what they see,” Mike said.

“I guess.” The officer, whom I pegged to be in his late twenties, started to leave, then came back to us. “There was one other thing.” He looked at me and then Mike.

“You can talk in front of her.”

“Just thought I’d pass along a little scuttlebutt, you know.”

“What’s that, brah?”

“Some of the guys I hang out with, you know, have a few drinks with after work, they say that she was some hot
wahine
.”

“Is that so?” Mike said.

“Not that I’d know firsthand, but some of the guys—”

I kept my mouth shut and tried not to look interested in what he was saying.

“I know, I know,” Mike said, “some of the guys heard that from somebody else.”

“That’s right, Mike. Just thought I’d pass it along.”

“
Mahalo.
Appreciate it.”

When the officer had left to rejoin his partner at the house, Mike said, “Hate to hear rumors like that about a woman.”

“I agree it isn’t fair,” I said. “A beautiful woman is often a victim of unkind remarks. Coming from a woman, I might chalk it up to jealousy. I’m not sure of what motives men would have.”

“Bragging, most likely. Making themselves look like big
kahunas
, in the know about something they have no experience with.”

“Even so, remember what we taught the recruits, to pay attention to even scurrilous rumors. You never know when there’s an important bit of truth in them.”

The officers departed the patio, leaving the father alone. I sensed that he was debating whether to join us. I waved. He did nothing.

“Probably not a good time to talk to him,” Mike said. But as we started to leave, Mohink stepped off the patio and took deliberate strides in our direction. He reached us, and I was aware of the intense anger etched on his square face. The officer had said that he was angry at his son, which I could understand. But his expression of rage went far beyond that.

“Get off my property. Now!” His lips were curled and his fists tightly balled at his sides, as though he was ready to physically strike at us.

“Now, hold on,” Mike said. “Mrs. Fletcher and I were—”

“I don’t give a rat’s ear what you were doing,” Mohink ground out. “Do it someplace else. Leave me and my kid alone. I’m sick and tired of people spying on me.”

“Mr. Mohink,” I said, “we’re not spying on you. Detective Kane and I simply wanted to speak with Koko about the night a woman fell to her death.”

His rage instantly subsided. “That’s right,” he said to Mike, “you’re a detective.”

“Retired,” Mike said pleasantly, “but still active, especially when a murder might have been committed.”

“Look, sorry I came on so strong. It’s just that this has been a stressful day. My son came to work with me and—”

“We heard all about it from the officer,” I said.

“Well, kids can drive you crazy, huh?” He forced a smile, although his jaw was still tightly clenched. “I gotta get back to work. He keeps pulling this stuff, he’s gonna make me lose my job.”

We watched him trudge across his lawn and disappear inside the house.

“That’s a man who has trouble controlling his temper,” I said. “He was ready to brawl until he remembered that you were law enforcement. The other night when he came up behind and scared me, he said he was protecting me from falling. It didn’t seem that way.”

“I’d like to know more about him,” Mike said as we retraced our steps to the car.

“Why do you think he believes he’s being spied on?”

“Could be just paranoid. Thinks everyone must be as interested in him and his activities as he is himself.”

“I wonder if it’s something else.”

Mike took out his cell phone when we’d gotten in his SUV and dialed a number.

“Ani, my love,” he said to whoever had answered. “Mike Kane here . . . Doing just fine, thank you . . . and you? . . . Good to hear that . . . Ani, I need a favor . . . What? . . . No, I’m not looking for one of those police T-shirts . . . They’re ugly . . . Ani, run a background for me on a guy named Warren Mohink . . . What? . . . No, nothing specific, just whether he’s had run-ins with the law . . . Right . . . Happy to hold.”

He put his cell on speakerphone and we waited until she came back on the line.

“Warren E. Mohink,” she said, “male, forty-one, works at Thompson Sugar Refinery, widower, one child.”

“Sounds like him,” Mike said. “Has he ever been a bad boy?”

“A few times, Mike. Before his wife died there were two domestic violence calls from his house made by the wife. She was bruised but ended up not pressing charges. Two other incidents, both in bars, fights, the usual. Both times charges were dropped. Anything else I can do for you?”

“How did his wife die?”

“Let me see what it says. Okay, she drowned. Her hubby, Mr. Mohink, and she were snorkeling. He was questioned, but the ME ruled it an accidental drowning. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Give me a kiss the next time I’m in headquarters.”

“Hey, I don’t want any trouble from Lani.”

“She told me to say that. Any
meahou
about the Kapule case?”

“Are you involved with that?”

“Just dabbling,” Mike said with a laugh.

“And I’m a professional hula dancer,” she said.

“You’ve got the hips for it,” he said.

“I’ll let that pass,” she said. “Call anytime.”

“I’d say Mr. Mohink could use an anger management class,” I said.

“Looks that way.”

“Do you mind swinging by the college on our way back?”

“For?”

“I want to see if we can catch up with Professor Luzon. I don’t know if you’re aware that he was named department head the afternoon Mala died.”

“You said that she wanted that job.”

“She wanted it, but she didn’t harbor any illusions about getting it. She knew that her controversial stance about the telescope and Haleakala would stand in her way.”

“Do you think she might have confronted the professor about it?”

“I don’t know, but it would be interesting to find out.”

Mike pulled out of the parking spot and slowly drove from the lot. As he reached the fringe of the property, I asked him to stop.

“What’s the matter?”

“See that woman on that bench?”

“Looks like she’s crying.”

“I know her. I sat with her and her husband at the luau. Give me a minute.”

I got out of the car and approached Elaine Lowell, who had indeed been crying. As she saw me draw near, she attempted to dry her eyes and sit up straighter.

“Elaine,” I said, taking a seat next to her on the bench. “Remember me? It’s Jessica. I’m sorry to see you so upset. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, and began to cry again.

I placed my hand on her shoulder and allowed her to gain control. “Is there anything I can help you with? Has something happened to you? To your husband?”

“It’s—it’s Bob,” she managed.

“Is he ill? Did he have an accident?”

She shook her head and used another tissue. “They just don’t understand him,” she said. “He wouldn’t mean anything by it.”

“By what, Elaine?”

“The chambermaid. She said that he tried to grab her. That isn’t Bob. He loves people, that’s all, likes to give everybody hugs and kisses.”

“Oh, my,” I said, thinking back to the luau when Bob hugged Grace Latimer and tried to kiss her on the cheek, and his tendency to wrap his arms around women, including me. “Is he in trouble because of it?” I asked. “With hotel security or the police?”

“The security man talked to him about it. The chambermaid complained to him, and he had to do something, I suppose. He warned Bob not to touch her again. She said she wouldn’t press charges, thank goodness, but she’s been assigned to another wing. She’s not mean or anything. I thought she was sweet. She just doesn’t understand my husband.”

“Sometimes people take displays of affection the wrong way,” I said, hoping to calm her. “It sounds as though everything’s been settled.” I injected cheer in my voice to boost her spirits. “Where is Bob now?”

“He was mad after speaking with the security man and said he was taking a walk.” She looked away from me and spoke as though addressing someone else. “Oh, Bob, I’ve
told
you that women don’t like to be hugged by strangers.”

I glanced back to where Mike remained in his SUV. “I have to be going, Elaine. Someone is waiting for me over there. I’m sure that everything will work out just fine.”

She sniffled and blew her nose. “Thank you, Jessica,” she said. “You’re a good person.”

My thought as I slipped into the passenger seat was that I probably wouldn’t be seeing the Lowells the following morning on the trip up to Haleakala and the bike ride down. Nice as they were, the idea didn’t displease me. And even though I experienced a twinge of guilt, I also felt relief knowing I wouldn’t have to spend a day with Bob Lowell.

“What was that all about?” Mike asked as he headed for the college.

I gave him a brief explanation.

“It happens,” he said. “Every once in a while, a tourist at the hotel where I work has a little too much to drink and gets frisky with a female staff member or somebody else’s wife. That demon rum can turn the most placid individual into a raving lecher.”

“Mr. Lowell is a nice man, at least what little I know of him. And I don’t think that drinking is the cause of his behavior. He’s just—well, he’s just too gregarious for his own good, especially with women.” I smiled. “Oh, Bob!”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”