A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the giant banyan tree in the square across the street. Tourists and locals alike had begun to wander the sidewalks. Cars jockeyed for the few available spaces along the curbs. The day was starting like every other day in this small whaling town. Only no one boarded boats to kill whales anymore. That part of history was confined to the shops along Front Street.
Jack asked, “Does your friend still work at DMV in Oahu?”
“What are you thinking?”
“Ask them to find out what type of boat Ichiro Makoto had registered to him. That information in itself might tell us something. While we’re waiting on that, I’ll call Dana Mores and crank up the fire under our burgeoning relationship. It’s possible she can be of assistance.”
Robert tipped his cup slightly and peered into the rich black coffee. Jack could tell his friend was deciding whether or not to weigh in on the idea. He didn’t rush into anything. But he was all in once he committed himself.
Without looking up, Robert asked, “You’re convinced she still harbors feelings for you?”
“Enough to help?” Kazuko added. “Without feeling she’s being used.”
“As far as she’s concerned, I majored in dumbshit. But on the phone yesterday, and the night before, she sounded genuinely happy to see me.” Jack focused on Robert. “And you saw the gleam in her eyes the day we brought the body in.”
“She’s pretty. I’ll give you that much.”
Jack grinned. “Gorgeous, more like it.”
“I worry about you,” Kazuko said with a note of genuine concern. “Appears I can add her to my list.”
He let the grin slip. “You worry too much, if you ask me.”
Even as he brushed off Kazuko’s comment, her remark made him wonder. Was he simply attempting to use Dana, or were there feelings that ran much deeper than superficial needs?
Not this woman. Not Dana.
The flutter in his gut after all those months apart was enough to convince him there was much more to his sentiments for her than physical attraction or circumstantial benefit.
And the sparkle in her eyes suggested she still harbored deep emotions for him.
“I’m banking on her willingness to help.”
CHAPTER 9
Jack caught up with Robert and Kazuko at their room. She held the door open and eyed him with the quizzical look he’d seen every time she awaited the latest gossip regarding one of his lady friends. In this case, the woman was Dana.
Though they weren’t actually seeing each other . . . yet.
He stepped past her to avoid the look. Robert was sitting on their king-size bed with his back against the headboard, his feet on the mattress, ankles crossed. The door closed with a hushed click.
“Well?” Robert asked. “How’d it go?”
He suspected they had been talking about him, having more than a little bit to say to each other.
“Dana and I are having dinner tomorrow night.”
Kazuko padded next to him. “She actually agreed to be seen in public with you?”
He smiled. “She even sounded excited.”
Kazuko shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Poor girl.”
The comment carried an unusual sting with it that matched the mean-spirited look she gave him. Obviously, she wasn’t joking, not the way she had many times in the past. Her hackles were raised, and he wondered what caused it.
He fought back a wave of disappointment. “What do you mean by that?”
Her expression didn’t change. “You know exactly what I mean.”
He did, and he was more confused by her behavior than upset by it. He said, “At least give us a chance.”
“I’ll give you two a chance all right.” Her tone was sharp. “And the first opportunity I get I’ll have a good long talk with her.”
He stared in bewilderment. Her words sounded more like a threat than a promise.
Why this? Why now?
He coughed the disbelief from his throat, and asked, “And tell her what?”
Her gaze didn’t falter. “About you, of course.”
He studied her taut expression trying to figure out what she was saying . . . or not saying out loud. She’d always been protective of him. Not wanting him to wind up hurt by a woman he dated. Was that it?
Or was she truly worried about Dana?
“Where’s this hostility coming from?” he asked, struggling to understand. “You mad at me or something?”
“I just think she deserves a fighting chance.”
So it’s Dana she’s concerned about.
He looked to Robert for help. “Can you believe this shit?”
“She’s just jerking your chain to get a rise out of you.” Robert swung his feet off the side of the mattress, stood, and tossed his phone onto the bedspread. “I’ve got business I need to take care of this morning, but she and I are planning on walking into town for a late lunch if you’d like to join us.”
Holding onto the hope Robert was correct, Jack looked at Kazuko and got a wide smile in return. The glare in her eyes suggested something different.
She’s serious.
He shook his head at Robert’s offer. “I’m going to have a cab drive me to the morgue. I’m still bothered by all this.”
“Seems like an expensive trip across the island for nothing.”
The expense mattered little. He wanted closure. “It’ll be worth every cent if I can put a nagging feeling I have to rest.”
“The man drowned,” Robert said. “It happens. And there doesn’t always have to be some kind of skullduggery going on when it does.”
“I just want to talk to Mailo face to face.”
“You think he’s going to tell you something different than what the detective told you on the phone?”
“No. Yeah. Hell, I don’t know.” Kazuko’s malevolent behavior had him confused. “All I know is I can’t shake this feeling something more is going on.”
“Another one of your hunches?”
A hunch? A bad feeling?
He wasn’t sure what to call the itch he couldn’t scratch. One explanation seemed as good as the other.
“You could call it that,” he said.
“Figures,” Robert grumbled with a sad shake of his head. “But I have to say this is one time your intuition is wrong.”
Jack turned and opened the door to the room. With his hand gripping the knob, he looked back at his friends and forced a thin smile. “This is one time I hope I’m wrong.”
CHAPTER 10
Jack spent the fifty-minute ride upcountry thinking about Dana. He hadn’t forgotten what Kazuko told him. The words hovered on the periphery of his mind where they could be dredged up if need be. But for now that’s where they would stay. Dana hadn’t been out of his thoughts more than a few minutes since seeing her on the dock at Maalaea Harbor. And even less since talking to her on the phone.
The attraction they’d shared was still there. Peering into her eyes again had set flame to the hot coals that had simmered beneath the surface of his desire waiting for this moment to reignite them.
He hoped she looked forward to their dinner date as much as he did.
And that nothing fouled it up.
Three vehicles sat in the parking lot when the taxi pulled to a stop in front of the Police Forensics facility in Wailuku. He paid the fare, climbed out of the mini-van, and swept his gaze over the view. The mist shrouded Iao Valley a mile to the west and the Pacific a few miles to the east. His gaze settled on the ominous bank of dark clouds lining the horizon as far as he could see to the south. It looked as though the storm might move inland after all.
Focusing his thoughts, he strode inside the building in search of answers. A blast of cool air from the overworked air conditioning greeted him. He pulled the door closed and paused in the foyer to let his eyes adjust to the dimly lit interior.
“Can I help you,” asked a middle aged lady of Philipino descent.
>
She stepped out of an office across the room from him. But his attention was on the door labeled ‘Pathology,’ and the two people who’d a moment before pushed it open and exited the hallway beyond.
Especially the attractive young Japanese woman.
Her black Oriental sheath dress, elegantly embossed with red flowers from shoulder to hem, clung to her curves in stark contrast to ivory skin as flawless as fine white porcelain. Her coal-black hair was tucked into a large tight bun secured with decorative picks. He envisioned it long and straight and luxurious, waist-length or beyond.
But as beautiful as she was, tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. In her right hand, she clutched a white handkerchief.
Grief over a deceased loved one.
He shifted his gaze to the big Japanese man accompanying her. He was a polar opposite to the exotic woman’s petite and shapely frame. He had broad shoulders and a massive chest and arms that stretched the expensive fabric of his dark suit that appeared too warm for the weather. His tight crewcut made him look more like Oddjob, Auric Goldfinger’s personal bodyguard in the James Bond film, Goldfinger, than someone there to console the bereaved.
He turned his attention to the lady who’d approached him from her office. “My name’s Jack Ferrell. I phoned earlier, inquiring about Ichiro Makoto’s death.”
“I’m Christine Reyes, the person you spoke with.” She shot a nervous glance in the direction of the Japanese couple. Lowering her voice, she asked, “Is there something more I can do for you?”
It was obvious she was concerned about being overheard.
He studied the other two people in the room. No one else was there for Ms. Reyes to be worried about.
The Asian woman’s tear-filled eyes lifted in mild interest over the conversation—nothing more. And then she shot an anxious glance in the direction of the giant with the crewcut who seemed to focus his full attention on what was being said. Just as quickly, she lowered her gaze, as though looking at him would bring her further grief.
Crewcut’s eyes held fast.
His interest was clearly more than idle curiosity.
Then again, considering nothing much had been said, maybe that’s all it was.
Jack turned his attention back to Ms. Reyes. If there was a problem, it certainly was of no concern to him.
But he did feel sorry for the young lady.
“I’d like to talk to Doctor Mailo,” he said.
“When you called, I told you I doubted there was anything he could tell you.”
“I promise not to take up too much of his time. Ten minutes; fifteen tops.”
Reyes’s gaze shifted between him and the Japanese couple. “He’s extremely busy. But if you’ll wait here, I’ll ask.”
“Thank you.”
At that moment the door leading to pathology opened. He hadn’t met Mailo, but the man who stepped into the room, with a somber expression and a brown file folder in his hand, had the appearance of a pathologist. He looked toward Jack.
Seizing the opportunity, Jack didn’t wait for Reyes to speak up.
“Doctor Mailo, I’d like a minute or two of your time.” Careful to keep the volume of his voice down, he added, “It’s regarding Ichiro Makoto’s death.”
A half-dozen feet away, Crewcut’s eyes narrowed.
Jack found himself in a staring contest with the big man. He was tempted to say something, but let the issue drop. Something was obviously going on, but he couldn’t imagine what it had to do with him. He turned his attention back on Mailo. Clearly, the pathologist noticed the silent exchange.
“Please,” Mailo said. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Jack wasn’t there to enter into a pissing contest with the big man. And he sure didn’t want to upset the pathologist. He wanted answers.
Standing back, he watched the exchange between the doctor and the Japanese couple . . . brief, unintelligible whispers from where he stood.
And then he watched the pair leave the building.
“I apologize for my bluntness,” he said when Mailo approached. “That was wrong of me, and I should have been more considerate.”
“What’s done is done. You wanted to talk to me? Who are you and what’s this about?”
“My name is Jack Ferrell. I’m the man who pulled Ichiro Makoto’s body from the ocean. If you have a moment. I know it’s not really any of my business, but I hoped you could tell me a little more about his death.”
CHAPTER 11
Shirtless, wearing only khaki shorts, an arm tucked under his head, Jack lay on his back on the bed inside his hotel room staring up at the rotating blades of the ceiling fan overhead. Robert and Kazuko wandered the town in search of a suitable place to have lunch. They’d have plenty to choose from. He was glad to have the time alone. It allowed him to mull over the million things whirling inside his head.
Doctor Mailo had been cordial in a professional sort of way. About what was to be expected from a person in his position. But hesitant and guarded. He was no help when it came to finding out more about Ichiro Makoto’s death, or the man himself. Mailo either had no further information to offer, or simply refused to divulge it.
Discouraging at best.
The worst part about it, Robert had been right.
Jack sighed inwardly. He’d made an expensive trip across the island for little more than a couple of wasted hours.
He wanted to know more. He wouldn’t find the information in the morgue. With that knowledge grating on his skin, he turned his thoughts to his dinner plans with Master Chief Petty Officer Dana Mores. She was on duty when he talked to her, but she agreed to meet him at seven. And since she had the car, she’d pick him up at his hotel and choose the restaurant. He’d pay of course.
There hadn’t been any question of that.
He was still staring at the twirling ceiling fan when his cellphone rang. The tone jerked him from a pleasant memory of two days aboard his catamaran, Pono, with Dana basking nude in the sun. He checked the caller ID. As of a couple of hours earlier her number was securely stored on his cloud. But that number was not displayed. The screen read, Unavailable.
Even so, that didn’t mean the call wasn’t from Dana on a secure line.
He clicked on, and said, “This is Jack.”
“Jack Ferrell?” a female voice asked.
Asian accent.
“Who’s this?” He wasn’t offering any more information until he knew who the caller was and why she had called.
“My name’s unimportant. I understand you’ve been asking questions about Ichiro Makoto. I’d like to help.”
Jack slid his legs off the side of the mattress and sat up. She had his attention. For a moment he tried to place the caller’s accent. Definitely Asian, probably Japanese, maybe in her late twenties, but her English was superb.
Intrigued, he said, “You’re making it sound like he wasn’t a nice man.”
“Not on the phone.” Her tone was hushed. “Can you meet me?”
“Sure.” He pressed the phone to his ear hoping to hear more. “But—”
“The corner of Lahainaluna and Waine′e Street in one hour. Come alone.”
Shit.
Her cloak and dagger routine set off a dozen caution alarms inside his head. None of what had taken place over the last couple of minutes made sense. But then nothing had from the moment they hauled Ichiro Makoto’s corpse aboard Fast Times. A twinge of foreboding swept through his body and knotted his gut.
“How’d you get my number?” he demanded. “And how the hell did you know where I’m staying?”
“You ask too many questions. The corner of Lahainaluna and Waine′e Street in one hour. Black Yukon with tinted windows.” The call disconnected.
He tossed his phone aside and combed his fingers through his hair. It hadn’t been more than a couple of hours since their first inquiries into Makoto’s background and already they’d ruffled feathers.
But how did they know to look for me?
He gave the question some thought. Then it dawned on him.
The Maui Police Department.
Of course that’s how, he thought. His name was probably splashed all over the police report.
Jack was sure he didn’t like one bit of this clandestine meeting. But he did want information on Ichiro Makoto, now more than ever. It had seemed strange to snag the body in the middle of the ocean, enough to make him more than a little curious. And that was before the phone call. He intended to find out what was going on.
Even if it meant taking a chance.
He knew it was foolhardy to go without telling Robert, but he was in no mood for a lecture. Kazuko’s sermon earlier that morning was enough to set him thinking. Even if he didn’t agree with everything she said.
Besides, he thought, how dangerous could it be to meet a lone female in the middle of a busy tourist town in the middle of the afternoon?
CHAPTER 12
Jack stepped from his room and closed the door.
The caller’s words echoed in his ears.
Come alone.
The sidewalks were alive with pedestrian activity when he strode from the hotel at 1:30. Everyone appeared to be headed someplace, but then at the same time, no place. Many just took shelter under the shady coolness of the hundred-year-old banyan tree in the park behind the historic jail. Vehicles of every make and model crept along the roadway, joined at the bumpers like a great steel snake winding itself through the town’s narrow streets.
None of them were getting anywhere fast.
Already, his hair was damp with sweat. He raked it back with his fingers. After countless hours in the blaze of the ocean sun, he was surprised he hadn’t scorched his black hair to the color of Robert’s.
He knew where he was going and gave himself fifteen minutes to walk there. Even though he’d been feeling some middle-age creaks and swelling in the finger joints, he was still agile enough for something as simple as this.
Almost immediately the masses closed in around him, and he feared he may have misjudged his time. But after slogging along at a snail’s pace with everyone else for what felt like an eternity, he veered onto a side street where there was less foot traffic and increased his pace.
Shipwreck Page 4
