Mahu Fire (23 page)

The uniforms reported in. They didn’t see anyone around the house, and no activity could be seen through the windows. “I don’t suppose you have a key to their house?” Sampson asked. When Jerry shook his head, Sampson directed a uniform to break the door down.

Mike and I were surveying the house when one of the uniforms radioed. “I think we found what you were looking for, out here in the shed.” We hurried out to where the uniform was standing in front of a small wooden shed, about eight feet on each side. He had cut a padlock off the door and turned on the lights inside.

We could both see that the room had been fitted out as some kind of laboratory. “Bingo,” Mike said.

We worked steadily, gathering evidence for several hours. In the meantime, Sampson had APBs broadcast for both of the Whites’ cars. He paced back and forth among us like a restless ghost, muttering aloud about terrorist bombers and headstrong kids. I looked at my watch and saw that Uncle Chin’s wake had been going on for hours.

I called my father and explained I was running late. “There are lots of people here,” he said. “But try and come over for a few minutes. I know Mei-Mei would appreciate it.”

“I’ll try. Tell her I’m sorry, will you?”

“She knows,” he said.

INCENSE BURNING

By two o’clock Thursday we had gathered as much evidence as we could from the house. When the technicians went back to headquarters to check fingerprint records, they dropped Mike at the fire department lab with all the incendiary materials. We didn’t find the small Smith and Wesson we believed had been used to kill Charlie Stahl and Hiroshi Mura, but it was obvious from the empty gun drawers that many weapons of various sizes were missing.

I told Lieutenant Sampson I wanted to stop by Uncle Chin’s house for the wake, promising I’d keep my cell phone turned on and handy, and he let me go. The narrow, curving streets of St. Louis Heights were chock-a-block with cars as I navigated my way there. Fortunately, a neighbor, Mr. Rodriguez, was out in his yard as I passed and he let me park in his driveway. As I walked down the hill toward the house, I saw a familiar face in one of the parked cars.

“Hey, brah,” I said, walking up to the passenger side of the car. “You checking out all the dangerous characters going into my uncle’s house?”

Akoni turned to me, a sheepish look on his face. “We’re just looking at tong members.”

“You got a problem with that, Kanapa’aka?” the man behind the wheel said.

I leaned down to look in at him. His name was Tony Lee, and all I knew about him was that he worked in Organized Crime. “Not at all,” I said. “You see anybody you don’t know, you can just ask me. I’ve got a couple of great-aunts you might not recognize.”

“Blow me,” Tony said.

“Hey, be careful what you say. I might just take you up on that someday.”

I saw Akoni trying to stifle a smile and stood up. Uncle Chin’s house and yard were full of people and it took me a while to say hello to everyone. There are very prescribed rites that take place when a person of Chinese descent dies, and even though he had a long criminal past, Uncle Chin was very traditional, and he was getting everything he was due.

When I saw the group of old men playing cards in the front courtyard, I realized that Aunt Mei-Mei had gone totally old school, and that Uncle Chin’s body had to be in the house, waiting for the funeral. The card players were there because the corpse had to be “guarded” while it was in the house, and gambling helped the “guards” pass the time. It was also said to make the mourners feel better—which I guessed was only true if you were winning.

A white cloth was across the doorway of the house, and a gong had been placed to the left. The wake had been going on since early that morning, and I figured that my family had been busy helping Aunt Mei-Mei prepare everything. A monk stood in the corner, his head shaved, wearing saffron robes and chanting Buddhist scriptures. The Chinese believe that the souls of the dead face many obstacles, torments, and even torture for the sins they have committed in life before they are allowed to take their place in the afterlife. The monk’s prayers, chanting and rituals were aimed to help smooth the passage of Uncle Chin’s soul into heaven. From what I knew of his life, he needed all the help he could get.

A trio of musicians played gong, flute and trumpet in one corner of the living room. Next to them, Uncle Chin’s coffin sat about two feet above the ground, with his head of the deceased facing the inside of the house. The area around the head of the coffin was filled with wreaths, gifts and a big color photo of Uncle Chin as a young man.

He was quite handsome then, though there was a deadliness about his eyes that was creepy, even knowing that he was beyond harming anyone. The coffin was open, with plates of food placed in front of it, to feed Uncle Chin on his journey.

A comb, broken in half, was placed in the coffin next to him, and I knew that Aunt Mei-Mei would keep the other half. At the foot of the coffin sat an altar, with burning incense and a lit white candle. Joss paper and prayer money (to provide the deceased with sufficient income in the afterlife) are burned continuously throughout the wake. I stepped up to the altar, bowed to Uncle Chin, and lit a stick of sandalwood incense. I folded a twenty-dollar bill and slipped it into the donation box.

Aunt Mei-Mei would not keep the money there, though often families did use that money to help defray funeral expenses. Rather, it would go to some charity in Chinatown, to further honor Uncle Chin’s memory.

I looked around. The statues of Kwan Yin and other deities in the house had been covered with red paper, to protect them from the body and the coffin, and the big mirror by the front door was gone, because the Chinese believe that if you see the reflection of a coffin in a mirror you will shortly have a death in your family.

The house was crowded, most people in formal aloha attire. I felt a little out of place, a little disrespectful, in my casual aloha shirt and khakis, but at least I’d made it there. Once I’d paid my respects to Uncle Chin, I sought out my parents, hugging them both. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I said. “I know you’ll miss Uncle Chin.”

He smiled. “I will see him again in the next life. It’s good that you came today.”

“Uncle Chin was always good to me.”

On the far side of the room, talking to my sister-in-law Liliha, was Aunt Mei-Mei’s daughter-in-law, Genevieve Pang, widow of Uncle Chin’s illegitimate son and mother of his only grandson, who was unable to attend the funeral due to his incarceration at Halawa Prison.

I made up two big plates of food and recruited Jeffrey and Ashley, my niece and nephew, to take them out to Akoni and Tony Lee. “Make sure you give this one to the thin Chinese guy,” I said to Jeffrey. I leaned down and whispered, “That’s the one I spit in.”

They were both wise to me, though. “Uncle Kimo,” he said. Then he and Ashley took off.

I found Aunt Mei-Mei in the kitchen, frying wontons. “You shouldn’t be doing this, Aunt,” I said, leaning down to kiss her. She wore a flowered apron over her black skirt and white blouse. The matching black jacket was draped over one of the kitchen chairs.

“I need keep busy,” she said. “No want think about Uncle Chin.”

“He was a good man.” I felt the tears I had been fighting for so long start to well up again. “I loved him.”

“Oh, Kimo, he love you, too. He love you, your brothers like his own sons.” She started to cry. “Now what I do? How I live without him?”

I reached over and got a paper towel, and used it to dry her eyes. “Come on, now, you don’t want the wontons to burn, do you?”

I stayed there and helped her for a few minutes. Then my cell phone rang and I walked outside to a quiet corner of the yard to answer it. “We may have a lead,” Lieutenant Sampson said. “A sightseeing helicopter going over Wa’ahila State Park saw a small fire, and swooped in for a closer look. He saw a car and a truck there, and though he couldn’t see plate numbers on either vehicle, they match the description of the ones registered to the Whites.”

“He see anybody around it?”

“Not in the immediate vicinity. But he did see two people who looked like they were running away from the fire. A girl who matches Kitty’s description and a skinny boy with yellow hair.”

My heart started to race. “Did he describe the hair at all? Was it gelled up to a point?”

“You know who it might be?” I told him what I knew about Jimmy Ah Wong. “What the hell’s he doing up there with Kitty?” Sampson asked. He didn’t even wait for an answer. “We’ve got to get some men into that park.”

“I’m looking at it now,” I said. “My uncle’s house butts right up against it. You can set up a command post here.”

“Give me the address.” I gave it to him, and told him there were already two officers from Organized Crime stationed out in the street. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Twenty, if too many asshole drivers get in my way.”

LOGISTICS

I went into the house, found my parents and explained the situation. “I think the boy who ran away is there, too,” I said. “Along with my boss’s daughter, and at least a couple of little kids.”

“I will talk to Aunt Mei-Mei,” my father said. “Uncle Chin’s spirit will be happy if we help you find this boy, and these other people.” He and my mother started circulating among the guests, sending them home.

Lui and Haoa sent their wives and children away but insisted on staying. “We can help you,” Lui said. “You know we know that park pretty well.”

On her way out the door, Liliha stopped and turned to me. “I am a very proud woman, Kimo,” she said. “But I hope that I am not too proud to admit when I have been wrong. And I was wrong about the church. I hope you will forgive me.”

I hugged her and kissed her cheek. “You’re my sister, Lili,” I said. “I’ll always love you, and nothing will get in the way of that.”

For the first time since she’d married my brother, my sister-in-law hugged me back, and I could feel she meant everything she said.

When we pulled apart, I looked up and saw Haoa and Tatiana ahead of us. Tatiana was crying and Haoa was stroking her long, streaked blonde hair. “Be careful,” she was saying. “Just be careful.”

“I will be. Don’t you worry.”

Liliha took control of the situation. “All kids in the cars,” she said, in a voice that reminded me very much of my mother’s. She took Tatiana’s arm, gently prying her away from Haoa. “We’ll all go to my house, Tati,” she said. “I want you to look at this catalogue with me. I’m thinking of changing around the living room.”

I watched my sisters-in-law and my nieces and nephews load up and move out. Jeffrey and Ashley complained; they wanted to stay and help, but they were no good in the face of opposition from their parents, no matter how much they complained that they were teenagers and ought to be treated better than the little
keikis
.

When the last of the guests had driven away, I went around to the back yard, where Akoni and Tony Lee where talking with my father and brothers. I could smell a faint odor of smoke on a breeze that came down the mountainside. “Somebody needs to evacuate the park,” Akoni said. “Lee and I can do that.”

“I’ll have backup meet you at the entrance to the park,” I said. “Lui, you and Haoa go with them, help them scout the perimeter of the park, then come back here. The fire department should be on their way. You guys will have to coordinate with them, too.”

“I’ve never seen the park so dry,” my father said. “You all better be careful.”

We all walked around to the front yard. My father looked stronger, more energized than he had the day before, and he was able to walk by himself, only touching my mother’s arm occasionally.

Haoa said, “I’ll drive,” and Lui, Akoni and Tony Lee jumped into his old panel van to head down to the park entrance.

My parents stopped at my mother’s Lexus in the driveway, and I said, “Dad, remember those old maps of the park? We’re going to need them.”

He nodded, and my mother said, “Mei-Mei, you and Genevieve come with us. It’s not safe for you to stay here.”

Aunt Mei-Mei shook her head. “No, I stay with Chin. Genevieve, you go.”

Genevieve took her mother-in-law’s hand. “No, Mother. I will stay with you.”

My mother looked at me, and I shrugged. So she and my father got into her car and drove off. Aunt Mei-Mei and Genevieve walked back inside, past the implacable card players, just as Lieutenant Sampson arrived.

“Run down for me what you know so far,” he said.

We walked around the house to the back yard, where we could look into the park, and as we did I organized my thoughts. It was about three in the afternoon then, a hot, dry day with variable winds. Perfect weather for a forest fire.

“This case started when somebody shot that chicken in Makiki,” I said. “I’m only speculating here, but I think both Jeff and Sheila White are wound pretty tight. They must have gotten tired of the rooster crowing every morning, and one of them went out and shot it to shut it up.”

Sampson looked grim. “Go on.”

“The homeless man, Hiroshi Mura, was shot because he saw something. Maybe he saw one of the Whites shoot the rooster. Maybe he knew what they were doing in that shed in the back yard. Either way, the same gun was used in both shootings.”

I paused to think about what to say next. “Ballistics matched the gun to the one used to shoot Charlie Stahl as well. Until we made that connection, we had no idea that the Makiki shootings could be connected to the bombing at the Marriage Project party.”

Sampson’s radio crackled. Akoni and Tony Lee had closed the park and gotten the picnic areas evacuated. No one matching the suspects’ description had been seen, but I knew there was a lot of wild country beyond the public area.

“Kitty said Eli Harding’s family had a cabin somewhere in the park,” I said. “My dad’s bringing over a bunch of old maps which show the trails and locations of cabins. If we can skirt the fire, we can head up some of those trails.”

Akoni said he and Lee were on their way back, and signed off. Sampson turned his attention back to me.

“Mike Riccardi, the fire inspector, was at the rally at Waikiki Gateway Park and he saw the woman who shot Charlie Stahl get away in a dark sedan, and he got a partial license plate,” I said.

“What was the fire inspector doing at a rally?”

I stopped. When I’d first seen Mike, I’d assumed he was there for the rally itself, that my influence was going to gradually move him out of the closet.

But of course, that wasn’t the reason at all. “I think he was worried that there might be another bombing attempt. After all, the rally was organized by the Marriage Project and the Marriage Project had just been bombed. You know that some of the arsons over the last few weeks have been at gay and lesbian businesses?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Mike thinks the arsonists are amateurs, that they’ve been getting more sophisticated with each attack. At the rally, he was keeping an eye out for suspicious behavior. That’s how he spotted our shooter.”

I had to stop and regroup. “Okay, so we had these shootings that matched up. When I was canvassing in Makiki, I talked to both Sheila and Jeff White. A couple of days later, when I was at the Marriage Project party, I saw a sweaty guy who looked familiar to me, and we identified this unknown guy as a chief suspect. Then we pulled a fingerprint off a paper bag that had been tossed at the Marriage Project office a few hours before the bombing, and we traced it to a guy at Pupukea Plantation, where the Church of Adam and Eve holds some services.”

My father and mother returned with the maps, and I set my father to figuring out where the Hardings’ cabin might be. My mother went back into the house to stay with Aunt Mei-Mei and Genevieve Pang. Even the increased smell of smoke in the air didn’t seem to faze the gamblers, though.

“The guy at Pupukea Plantation told us that Jeff White had paid him to throw those shit-filled bags at the Marriage Project office, but White denied it. At that point, you and I were talking about a lineup to try and connect White to the sweaty guy.”

“Which we can still do, if we need to.”

My cell rang, and I could see from the display it was Mike Riccardi. “Yeah, Mike?” I said, answering it.

“I’m on my way over to Wa’ahila State Park, with a couple of engines,” he said. “There’s a big fire brewing there. I remembered your parents live up there and wanted to tell you they might want to get out.”

“Already ahead of you.” I told him where we stood.

He whistled. “You think White started this fire?”

“Don’t know. But I know he’s up there somewhere, with a bunch of innocent people.” I glanced over at Sampson and knew he was thinking of Kitty.

“Listen, I gotta go,” Mike said. “Be careful out there.”

“You too.”