Aloha Betrayed (14 page)

Mai Wahapa ‘A Mai ‘Oe Ia‘u
—
Don’t Argue with Me

A
lthough it was growing late in the day, the Maui College campus was busy as we drove in, and it took some time to find a parking space near the new science building with
‘IKE LE‘A
on its sign.

“Tell me about this Professor Luzon,” Mike said after turning off the engine.

“I met him and his wife at the luau. I didn’t know it at the time, but apparently that afternoon he’d been named head of the horticulture department, a post that Mala coveted. When we parted, Mala and I, she said she had a meeting with her competition. That may have been Professor Luzon. I’d like to know whether he’d spoken with her between the time his appointment was announced and her death.”

“Was there bad blood between them?” Mike asked.

“Not that I’m aware of. It was Professor Luzon’s teaching assistant, Grace Latimer, who told me she saw Mala at the luau.”

“The name you gave to Detective Tahaki.”

“That’s right. Grace is a graduate student in the school. She all but suggested that Mala may have committed suicide because of losing the chairmanship, something that makes no sense to me at all. Grace is also the one who told me she saw Mala’s former boyfriend that night. He’s a deckhand on the
Maui Ocean Star
, the sunset cruise I took. His name is Carson Nihipali. Did I pronounce it correctly?”

“You’re getting the hang of it,” said Mike. “Tell me more about this ex-boyfriend.”

“Handsome, sure of himself. Ms. Latimer called him a ‘surfer dude.’”

“Plenty of them in Hawaii. Did you discuss Mala with him?”

“I tried to, but he wasn’t eager to have that conversation.”

Mike looked out the window and rubbed his chin.

“You’re thinking?” I said.

“Yeah. I’m thinking about what that young cop at the kid’s house said, that Ms. Kapule was a ‘hot
wahine
.’ I wonder how many boyfriends she had and how many of them may have had a reason to hold a grudge.”

“That kind of gossip shouldn’t be too difficult to uncover,” I said.

As we approached the building’s entrance, Mike said, “Maybe you’d rather speak with the professor alone.”

“Oh, no. I think having a retired detective with me adds some gravitas.”

“Gravitas? Me?” he said, chuckling. “That’s a first.”

I checked the names on a board in the lobby and saw that Professor Luzon, now a department chairman, had an office on the second floor. We pushed against a tide of students coming down the stairs and made our way down a long hallway with open doors on either side as classes emptied for the evening. Ahead of us, a small group was clustered in front of a closed door. I wondered why they hesitated to knock or enter until angry voices from inside reached us. A man and a woman could be overheard arguing.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man said. “You never do.”

“Don’t lie to me, Abbott. I wasn’t born yesterday,” the woman yelled. “She bats her big blue eyes at you and you heel like some pathetic puppy. And don’t think I don’t know about the others.”

“Damn it, Honi, keep your voice down. This is where I work.”

We’d found Professor Luzon’s office, and he and his wife were having a very public argument, unaware of the audience it was drawing just beyond the door.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mike said in a low voice. “Don’t you think we should give these people a little privacy?”

I caught exasperated looks flashing between several of the students who’d been eavesdropping, but clearly they were not about to challenge a man the size of Mike Kane, and they began dispersing just as Honi’s next volley came through the door: “No, Abbott, this isn’t where you
work
; this is where you seduce all those wide-eyed innocents who go gaga over the esteemed professor. You’re incorrigible.”

I wasn’t sure what to do—knock and interrupt their fracas or stand in the hall until one of them stormed out. I didn’t have time to make a decision because the door flew open. Honi Luzon stood staring at us. “Get a good earful?” she said.

“We and a good number of the students,” Mike said.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lu—”

Honi didn’t stay for my apology. “His majesty, the chairman, will see you now. Excuse me,” she said, and pushed past us, striding down the hall, unmindful of the faces that turned to see who she was and the whispers she inspired as she passed.

Mike and I peered through the open door. Luzon was standing at the window with his back to us.

“Professor Luzon?” I said.

“My office hours are over.”

“We’re not students,” Mike said.

Luzon turned. His face was crimson, and he visibly shook.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

“If this is a bad time, we can—”

“Mrs. Fletcher, right? From the luau?”

“Yes, and this is Mike Kane, retired detective.”

Luzon struggled to bring himself under control. He went behind his desk and said, “Come in.” Whether he was aware that we’d overheard the argument with his wife wasn’t evident; he probably preferred not to know.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, but I was certain that he didn’t care.

“Just a few minutes of your time,” I said. “I suppose I should start by congratulating you on your promotion.”

“That cannot possibly be the purpose of your visit.”

Deciding that directness was the best approach, I responded, “You are correct. Former detective Kane and I are working together to try to paint a more complete picture of the death of your colleague Mala Kapule.”

My statement got his attention. His eyes widened as he groped for his next words. “Please sit down,” he finally said. “I only have a few minutes, however.”

“And that’s all the time we’ll take,” I said, ignoring the chairs he pointed to. “Professor Luzon, we were wondering whether you’d had the opportunity to speak with Ms. Kapule the day that she died.”

He adopted an exaggerated expression of deep thought. “No, I . . . I don’t believe I did.” He pulled a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and carefully put them on. “Why do you ask?”

“I spoke with your assistant, Ms. Latimer, and she wondered whether Mala was so upset that she’d lost out on becoming chairman of the horticulture department that she might have—well, might have taken her own life.”

He guffawed. All the anger seemed to drain out of him. “That’s ridiculous,” he said, smiling. “Grace said that? Not a very scientific conclusion.”

“Yes. I agree that it’s far-fetched, but I did think it was worth mentioning. You didn’t see Mala the night we sat together at the luau?”

“No.”

“Ms. Latimer said that she did, and since you went together to fetch the drinks, I thought perhaps you might have been with her when that occurred.”

“No,” he said, “I never saw Professor Kapule that night.”

“That afternoon perhaps? Mala and I had coffee, after which she left me for an appointment in this building. She said she was going to meet with her competition. Wouldn’t that have been you?”

“Her competition for what? I have said that I didn’t see her, and that answers your question. I get the impression that I’m being grilled.” He directed that last statement at Mike, who’d said nothing so far.

“That’s hardly the case. Mrs. Fletcher and I are just trying to clear up some lingering questions about Ms. Kapule’s death. I’m sure you’d like to have those questions answered, too, considering that you were colleagues here at the college.”

“Well, of course. We were all shaken and saddened at Mala’s demise. She was a fine scientist and a talented teacher, much beloved by her students.”

Luzon sounded as if he was rehearsing a eulogy he’d written for Mala’s funeral.

“But from everything I’ve heard, her death was an accident, if a bizarre one.” He shook his head ruefully. “Just like Mala, scrambling down a dangerous cliff in search of some bit of vegetation.” He again shook his head. “Probably
Cryptostegia grandiflora
. She was on a campaign against that one. So unnecessary. So tragic.”

“Professor Luzon,” I said, “you and Mala worked in the same department for years. You must have known her pretty well. Is there anyone you can think of who might have held a grudge against her, someone who was angry enough to have pushed her off that cliff?”

Luzon cleared his throat. “The university informed me that the police have labeled her death an accident. I generally accept the conclusions of the authorities. The appropriate authorities. But if I had to guess, I’d say it was someone who was adversely impacted by her stand against the telescope on Haleakala. But that’s assuming she was pushed. That’s not what I have understood.” He looked over his glasses at me and added, “Anything else?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “We appreciate your time.”

“Not at all,” he said affably. “Thanks for stopping by.”

As we were on our way out the door, I turned and said, “Please give my best to your wife.”

Luzon’s face turned red. “I’ll do that,” he said.

We got in the car. Before Mike started the engine he said, “I gather the woman he was arguing with was his wife.”

“Yes, Honi Luzon. It’s safe to say from what we heard that they were arguing about another woman.”

“More like other
women
,” Mike said.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Probably. I’m thinking that if Mala Kapule was one of those other women, that would give both Mr. and Mrs. Luzon a motive.”

“I hope not. If that’s the case, he certainly wasn’t broken up about her loss.”

“Those kinds of guys wouldn’t be. It’s all about the chase, not about the woman herself.”

“That’s a pretty negative view of your fellow man, Mike.”

“Yeah, well, there’s good guys, and there’s other guys. Luzon doesn’t come off like a good guy. You going to the meeting of Mala’s group tonight?”

I nodded.

“And you’re still planning to go up to Haleakala a few hours later and bicycle down?”

“It’s on my agenda.”

“I’d be happy to drive you there the day after tomorrow.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m assured that the best view will be available tomorrow. Afterward the weather will be less predictable.”

“I’ll give you that. You do need a clear day to appreciate it.”

“I know I’m cramming a lot in, but this is my thinking: As long as I’m here on Maui I might as well do what the tourists do. Frankly, I’m looking forward to it.”

“You’re not going to get much sleep tonight. You know those buses leave in the wee hours.”

“I know.”

“Just do me one favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Be careful. It can be dangerous, especially when you’re tired.”

His warning accompanied me into my room, where I pulled out a notebook in which I’d been jotting down my thoughts and started adding more.

Ono!
—
Delicious! Sometimes Combined as
Ono-licious

I
had a few hours before the meeting of Mala’s opposition group and was grateful to spend quiet time in my hotel room. After leaving our brief and somewhat awkward confrontation with Luzon, I was concerned that we were spinning our wheels and getting nowhere. That Mike’s other plans would preclude our being together that evening and the next day was a double-edged sword. Having the legendary Maui detective at my side made the point that the questions I was asking weren’t frivolous. I’ve interacted with a number of detectives over the years, and as fine as many of them were, none impressed me more than Mike. He was a gentleman in every sense of the word, a man with a pixyish smile and twinkle in his eyes to accompany a keen mind, as well as a devoted family man with an appreciation of the human dilemma.

On the other hand, allowing Mike to get back to his family life and regular business concerns assuaged my guilt at taking him away from his wife and his job. I hoped his involvement with me didn’t jeopardize either relationship. I remembered I had promised myself—and him—that I would find a nice gift for Lani as thanks for sharing her husband’s time, even though he assured me she was accustomed to his odd hours and just as happy to follow her own interests by herself. I also had to admit that the prospect of not having him at my side was liberating in a way. I’ve had many discussions with Seth Hazlitt and other friends in Cabot Cove about how today’s frenetic lifestyle, fueled by all the technology that surrounds us, takes away from precious time to think. I needed think time. We all need think time to avoid making some of the mistakes we humans are prone to.

I reflected on that first morning when Mala and I enjoyed coffee together. She was a beautiful woman who undoubtedly had a number of beaus, including the deckhand on the
Maui Ocean Star
Carson Nihipali. He’d gone out of his way not to talk about Mala and the particulars of her death. Of course, I’d caught him when he was working, not the best time for confidences. But I sensed a coldness in him that bothered me. Had he been one of many boyfriends, as the young police officer had hinted? If so, was he aware of his competitors for her attention? Mike Kane’s question was apt: Could one of them have harbored enough resentment to have taken the drastic step of getting rid of her altogether?

But let’s say that Mala had fallen to her death during an argument with a boyfriend. It could well have been an accident, an argument that got out of hand, even a situation in which she felt threatened, backed away, lost her footing, and tumbled down to the rocks and surf below without being pushed. If that was the case, whoever accompanied her on the trail was guilty of nothing except callous disregard and failing to alert someone. If you were questioned by the police and lied about what you knew, that was a crime, but it wasn’t murder.

Reviewing the possibilities, I realized that I was limiting myself to looking for a romantic reason for her death. A more realistic possibility was Mala’s staunch opposition to the telescope on Haleakala. There was big money involved, not only for someone like Cale Witherspoon and his construction company, but also for the university and the island of Maui. There were powerful forces lobbying to see that the telescope was built, and from what I’d gathered, many of the island’s movers and shakers, including Charlie Reed, were putting their money where their mouths were, funding a series of legal skirmishes designed to overcome Mala and her smaller group’s efforts to kill the project.

Some of my thinking, and the notes I was making, focused on Professor Luzon. Mike and I had overheard his wife, Honi, accusing him of infidelity. The tension at the luau between Honi and her husband’s graduate assistant, Grace Latimer, was palpable. Had Luzon been having an affair with Grace? If so, what bearing would that have on Mala Kapule’s death? Unless Grace was jealous of Luzon’s attentions to Mala, assuming they existed, and wanted to rid herself of a rival. Grace had asked to see me after Mala died. Was she just probing to see what I knew? I doubted that there was a connection between Luzon and Mala, apart from her desire to become chair of the department. The day I met her and she was heading off to a meeting with her opponent for the chairmanship, presumably Luzon, she referred to him as a “dreadful man.” But if they weren’t romantically involved, could academic rivalry have been so heated as to lead to a physical confrontation? There was a lot to ponder. I needed a walk to get my blood flowing. I left my room through the French doors and ventured along the shoreline of Kahului Bay, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying the late afternoon sun. A narrow beach rimmed the water, curling around the harbor. To my right in the distance was a ferry slip, and beyond it, a long pier at which a large cruise ship was berthed jutted into the water. Others were also enjoying the quiet beginning to the evening—a family with children, an older couple slowly walking hand in hand, young joggers, and a few solitary men and women gazing out over the peaceful beauty of the water. The slanted rays of the sun spun a kaleidoscopic effect on the water, reminding me of the way I felt seeing the sea turtle photograph I’d purchased. I reveled in the experience. This was the way one was supposed to feel when visiting Hawaii, and I was very much in the moment.

But all good things must come to an end, and soon I found myself back in my room changing clothes before taking a taxi to the restaurant where Mala’s protest group was meeting.

To my delight, Elijah Kapule was my cab driver.

“Good to see you, Mrs. Fletcher,” he said as he opened the rear door for me.

“Nice to see you, too,” I said. “Have plans for Mala’s funeral been set?”

“Yes, ma’am, day after tomorrow.” He handed me a sheet of paper on which the details were printed. “You’ll be there?”

“I’ll make a point of it,” I said as I slid onto the backseat.

“Remember. No wearing black.”

“I’ll remember.”

The restaurant was only ten minutes away, but since I’d left the hotel a little later than planned, I worried about disrupting the meeting in progress.

“You still have my card?” Elijah asked as he scurried around to open my door.

“Yes, of course.”

“Call me for your ride back to the hotel.”

“I’ll do that, Elijah. Thank you.”

The restaurant was in a strip mall, flanked by a clothing shop that boasted “authentic Hawaiian shirts” and a tobacco store whose sign assured shoppers that its prices were the lowest on Maui. I walked into the dining room but didn’t see any large group.

A pretty Asian woman approached and asked if I wanted a table.

“I understand there’s a group that meets here regularly concerning Haleakala and the proposed telescope. Professor Kapule from the college was a member.”

“Oh, Ms. Kapule. So sad what happened to her.”

“Yes, it certainly was.”

She led me to a small private room at the rear of the restaurant, where a dozen people were seated at a long table. A middle-aged man got up and came to me. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“My name is Jessica Fletcher. I was a friend of Mala Kapule.”

“Oh, yes, I heard about you.”

“You did? From Mala?”

“No, from others. Are you here for the meeting?”

“If you don’t mind a stranger sitting in.”

“It’s fine. We have no secrets. Come, sit. We’re just ordering drinks.”

I sat in the chair the man pulled out for me and smiled at the others at the table. A waitress took my order for pineapple iced tea.

“We have a guest today,” the man announced. “This is Jessica Fletcher.”

There were murmurs of greeting.

He turned to me. “I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself. James Feary. I’m the attorney for this group. How did you know Mala?”

“I don’t want to mislead you. I only met her once, the day she died, but her uncle Barrett was a close friend of another friend of mine back in Maine.”

He smiled. “Doc Barrett,” he said fondly. “That’s what we all called him, a wonderful physician and a fine person.”

“How did you happen to hear my name?”

He started to explain when someone at the end of the table tapped her water glass with a spoon and said, “Maybe we should get some business out of the way before dinner. As we all agree, this is a sad occasion without Mala. She gave voice to our concerns, and now that she’s no longer with us, we have some tough decisions to make.”

I wasn’t sure that I should be there. I didn’t belong to this group, which had obviously been meeting for a long time and had an agenda about which I knew little aside from what I’d been told by Mala and from comments I’d picked up on since arriving on Maui. But no one seemed to mind my presence, and a spirited discussion ensued about the direction the group should take without her. While their words were filled with conviction, I sensed a deflated attitude that didn’t match the energy of what was being said.

While the conversation proceeded, I took in the others at the table. One handsome young man eventually caught my attention. He was seated behind a large gentleman who’d blocked him from my view. It was the student who’d spoken with Mala at the conclusion of her class and with whom she’d seemed annoyed. What was his name? Dale. That was it. As I recalled their brief moment together, I remembered that she’d curtly dismissed him, and I’d wondered why. Was he an annoying student who demanded more of his professor’s time than she was willing to commit? That was the conclusion I’d come to, and I had forgotten about him until this evening.

After we’d consumed drinks, the waitress took dinner orders. Since I hadn’t eaten yet, I took the opportunity to try this new-to-me restaurant and echoed what the man next to me ordered, assuming he knew the menu better than I. It was a wise move. I was served
lau lau
, a combination of salt butterfish, pork, and chicken, wrapped up in a ti leaf. It was delicious.

The serving of the food didn’t get in the way of the debate, which had started off calmly but eventually morphed into something more heated. Some at the table were determined to carry on the group’s advocacy, while others took the position that since Mala was no longer around to spearhead the movement, the group should be disbanded. As one woman said, “Let’s face it. We’re on the losing end. Let them build their ridiculous telescope. I’ve had it.”

A few echoed that sentiment, while others vowed to fight on in Mala’s name. That was a lovely thought, but I questioned whether Mala’s memory would be sufficient to carry on with any hope of success against the more powerful money interests. As I listened attentively to both sides arguing their points of view, I felt distinctly out of place. While I found the debate interesting, as my niece Tracy Macgill might have said, I had no horse in this race. I didn’t know whether the educational values and scientific gains to be achieved by the telescope outweighed the concerns and considerations of the volcano’s place in the history and religion of the Hawaiian peoples, not to mention its impact on the ecology of Haleakala. My purpose had been only to see whether anyone at the table would have light to shine on Mala’s death, and as the evening wore on, I increasingly doubted whether that would be the result.

After the dinner bills were paid and the meeting broke up, those who’d attended gathered in small knots to continue the conversation that had dominated the table. I spotted Dale and was making my way toward him when the man who’d greeted me at the door, James Feary, waved to me. “Sorry you had to come into the group at this late stage,” Feary said. “When Mala was spearheading it—back when her commitment was strong—we thought we had a good chance of killing the Haleakala project. Now? I’m not so sure. We seem to be—” He stopped, searching for the right words.

“Am I understanding you correctly? You just indicated that Mala’s commitment might have waned. I was unaware of that. Had it?”

“It wasn’t always obvious, but I knew her a long time.”

“When I met Mala just after arriving here on Maui, she was filled with enthusiasm for the cause you and the others are championing,” I said. “That was only a few days ago.”

“Oh, yes, she could be a real spitfire.”

“‘Could be’? Wasn’t it genuine?”

His shrug was noncommittal.

“Why had she lost faith?” I pressed.

“You know how it is when money enters the picture.”

“Do you mean the money that the opposition was throwing at the project to defeat her and this group?”

“That, and Mala finally having achieved some personal financial independence.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” I said.

“I’m not telling tales out of school,” he said. “I’ve been working to settle her estate.”

“You were Mala’s attorney, too?”

“Attorney and accountant. I was pleased when she started receiving consultant’s fees. Teaching doesn’t make anyone rich. I think she decided that it was time to move on with her life. While protesting the telescope on Haleakala was certainly a worthwhile endeavor—is still a worthwhile endeavor—it didn’t pay all the bills or set up a secure retirement.”

I immediately thought of the luxury clothes in Mala’s closet that I had found so puzzling. Perhaps this was the explanation. “How nice that she was able to earn extra money by consulting. Was she consulting with a company here on Maui?”

“No. It was a company on the mainland, in the Northwest somewhere, I believe.”

“Oregon?” I said, remembering the unopened envelopes on Mala’s desk in her house.

“That’s right. Douglas Fir Engineering, Inc.”

“Douglas Fir? Like the tree? That makes sense. She was a botanist.”

“I don’t know what they do, but they were generous. She opened a separate account at the Central Pacific Bank exclusively for the wire transfers she received from the company. She did very well with them. Her account grew quickly. We were able to invest some of her money for the future. Now, of course, there is no future for her.”

“I assume that Mala had a valid will.”

“Of course. I saw to that. She kept putting it off like too many people do, but I finally got her to execute one. Dying without one is nothing but trouble.”