The Fire Thief

by Debra Bokur

  Uru’s voice became enthusiastic. “Not to worry. Most people don’t. As far as they’re concerned, the lights work, the refrigerator keeps their food cold, and when they switch on the television, SpongeBob SquarePants comes on to keep their kids happy, and that’s all they want to know. ”

  Kali nodded. “That’s me, actually.”

  Uru pointed to the batteries. “They look like car batteries, don’t they? Basically, that’s exactly what they are—really expensive car batteries. Usually, they’re stored in a small room or a garden shed, away from the main building they’re powering. The array of solar panels is positioned on the roof of the house or business, or sometimes on a separate tower structure close by. The panels collect sunlight directly from the source, and the power is stored in the batteries.”

  Kali tried to hide her confusion. “Yes, but exactly how does the power get from the panels to the batteries, and from the batteries to the television?”

  “Ahh,” crooned Uru. “It’s a beautifully simple process. You understand that household current, which powers everything from your lights to your toaster oven, is AC, which stands for alternating current?”

  Kali nodded, lessons from her long-ago high school science class slowly surfacing in her mind.

  “Well,” Uru continued, “the power collected by the panels and stored in the batteries is in the form of DC, or direct current. An inverter unit turns the DC to AC, which is then fed via wires to a circuit box, and then on to individual appliances and the like.”

  That all seemed clear enough, but the panel-to-battery portion of the process still eluded her. Failing to perceive that she was still vague on the details, Uru continued.

  “Then a very sensitive trace device within each panel maintains the power level in the batteries.”

  Kali nodded. “Right. This all sounds fairly high tech, though. Which usually translates to expensive.”

  Uru shrugged. “It can be, depending on the size of the building you need to supply energy to. For an average house of about fifteen hundred square feet, the setup is roughly twelve to twenty larger panels, plus the trace device and inverter, which run about ten to fifteen thousand dollars together. Then figure in up to twenty separate batteries, at two to three hundred dollars apiece, and there you are.”

  “Broke.”

  “Well, that’s the problem—people get hung up thinking about the initial setup cost, forgetting that the source of the energy, the sun, is an infinite and completely free resource. A flame that never goes out. Once they’ve got their panels and other equipment, they’re off the grid. Freedom from the utility companies.”

  “But the equipment still needs to be replaced now and then, doesn’t it?”

  “Batteries? Sure. They have to be replaced once in a while, but each one should be good for a minimum of a decade. The solar panels, unless damaged, can last indefinitely.”

  “Unless they’re stolen.”

  Uru looked surprised. “Stolen? Yes, I guess that could be a problem, though homeowners’ insurance would cover the loss. I like to think things are different here in paradise. More goodwill.”

  “There are people up to no good in every corner of the world,” she said. “Hawaii’s no different.”

  He looked suddenly uneasy. Kali watched his face, curious about the subtle change in his energy.

  “Well, from what you’ve described about the business end of things,” she said, “it seems that swiping the equipment and reselling it could be a potentially profitable little enterprise. Are there any identifying marks on the panels?”

  “Manufacturer’s marks, of course,” he said. “But those are very small and not easily visible. There aren’t any serial numbers, or anything like that. There are relatively few companies producing them for consumer purchase, so I can’t see how that would be much help. And the batteries generally all look the same.”

  Kali looked around at the huge boxed inventory Uru had on hand. “Have you been approached by anyone trying to sell individual panels? Or had anything unusual occur?”

  He shook his head, but again, Kali picked up on his uneasiness.

  “Of course not. I would be immediately suspicious. I buy direct from manufacturers on the West Coast and in Japan. Someone coming in here with a panel under his arm would stand out as suspicious right away. Besides, what we sell is complete photovoltaic systems. We’ve very rarely had requests for a single panel.”

  “But you’d be likely to hear if someone was up to that kind of thing locally?”

  “You bet I would. I wouldn’t appreciate someone trying to undermine my business by selling stolen goods at better prices than I can offer.”

  Kali nodded. While her instincts were telling her that Uru wasn’t the kind of person to get involved in anything sordid, she was interested in the change that had come over him.

  “Is there something that’s giving you concern?” she asked, turning around in the vast cement-floored space. She took a few steps toward the door leading back to the reception area, which could be seen at the far end of the space, then paused, waiting for his response

  He hesitated, walking up beside her in silence. A few steps from the door, he stopped. “It’s nothing to do with solar panels. It’s just . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, there’s been a stray cat hanging around. I’ve been feeding it. Put a box outside for it. You know, with an old towel in it.” He looked embarrassed. “Yesterday I found the cat by the side door I use to get to my office. It was dead . . .” Again, he paused.

  Kali scanned his face. She could see that he was both anxious and unhappy. “Maybe it was sick?”

  He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t sick. At least, that’s not what killed it. It had been cut in half, like it had been sliced with something big and sharp. And then placed in front of the door, where it wouldn’t be missed. Like it was deliberate. It felt like . . . well, as though it might be some sort of a message.”

  He looked sad. “Poor little thing. It was just starting to trust me.” He turned to Kali. “Who on earth would do such a thing?” He shook his head. “And why?”

  “That’s unfortunate,” she said. The thought of the cruelty was troubling, and the act that had taken the stray cat’s life repulsed her, but she kept her voice even. “I don’t see how it’s related, though.”

  “No. I’m sorry. It’s just that when you asked me if anything unusual had taken place, it made me think of the little cat.”

  “Have you received any threats? Complaints from customers, perhaps? If there’s anything personal or professional that you think might be behind such an act, you should tell me.”

  He said nothing, and Kali could detect no subterfuge.

  “I really don’t think so,” he finally said. “Perhaps just children acting out.”

  “With access to something large and sharp enough to slice a cat in half?”

  Again, there was silence before he answered. “I don’t know what to tell you. Like I said, I hardly think it’s related to your investigation. Perhaps I just needed to tell someone about it, in an official sort of way.”

  “You need to let us know if anything else unusual like that happens,” she said. “You can call me directly, or call the main line. Up to you, but if something else occurs, it needs to be looked into.”

  She handed him her card, and he looked it over carefully before placing it in his wallet.

  “All right. I’ll do that.”

  She thanked him and made her way to the reception area as he turned back to the door leading to his office. The receptionist was there, sitting at her desk. She looked up as Kali approached, and Kali noticed that she was wearing eyeliner and a tinted lip gloss, and that her hair had been carefully styled. She felt suddenly self-conscious and reached up involuntarily to shove a loose tangle of hair behind one ear.

  “Mahalo for your time,” said Kali, pushing at the heavy glass door. Just as she was about to step into the sunshine, she turned back, feeling as tho
ugh there was something else she should have asked, a thought just out of reach.

  “Mr. Uru told me about the cat,” she said. “I don’t suppose you saw anything or have any idea who might have killed it?”

  The woman raised her eyebrows. “I imagine it was the ghost.”

  Kali looked at her in surprise. “Come again?”

  The receptionist laughed. “Didn’t he tell you?” She leaned forward. Her voice lowered, she explained, “Honestly, he’s been going on about it. He didn’t just find it by the door. He swears he saw a ghost running away just as he was walking up to the building.” She made a dismissive sound. “A ghost carrying a dead cat. Have you ever heard of anything so insane?”

  Kali kept her voice neutral. “Unusual, that’s for certain,” she said.

  She turned and headed back into the warehouse. The story of the mutilated cat was disturbing, but she needed to know why Uru had left out the detail of the ghost.

  When she confronted him in his office, he hung his head, mortified. “Really, I can’t be sure of what I saw. A figure, moving away from the door. In my culture, there are stories about such things.”

  “Yes. The noppera-b. I’m familiar with the legends.”

  He looked at her in astonishment, then in gratitude. “So you won’t think I’m crazy when I say that when it saw me, it paused and turned to look at me, but there were no eyes.”

  “Was it an actual face?”

  He frowned. “Now, I think perhaps it was a mask or a costume. It was all gray, like a shadow that blended into its surroundings. But it happened so quickly, and I was focused on the welfare of the cat. There was such a pool of blood, you see. I didn’t realize until I was standing right over it that it had been mutilated. That there was nothing I could do to help.”

  “Was there anything else? Did you get a sense of height or weight or gender?”

  “No.” He looked away for a moment and then turned to her, his face without the slightest hint of guile. “I would say a slightly built person who moved quickly. I’m sorry I mentioned it to anyone.”

  “Is it possible someone was trying to frighten your receptionist and not you?”

  He thought about it. “I would say that it’s unlikely.”

  “If she moved here recently from the mainland, she could have left behind an ex-husband or lover, someone from her past.”

  “She’s been in the islands for about two years, and I think she has some family here. If there had been something about this incident that struck her as being personal, I’m sure she would have said, or I would have noticed.”

  Kali had no idea why Uru had been targeted for such a bizarre act, but one thing was certain: There seemed to be an extraordinary number of spirits lurking around in the vicinity of solar panels. Too many, perhaps, to be coincidence.

  CHAPTER 10

  The harbormaster at Kona, on the Big Island, waved lazily from the dock beside the office as Kali motored slowly into the sheltered cove and brought the Gingerfish into an empty slip. She cut the engine power and felt the tense muscles across her upper back finally relax. She’d been in luck with the overnight channel crossing. Despite the torrential downpour, there had at least been no cruise ships to navigate around. The enormous boats were a necessary evil in the advance of tourism, she knew, but were quite intimidating from the deck of the aging Gingerfish, who’d left her youthful maneuverability far behind.

  Even without cruise ships, the crossing had been daunting enough—the channel between the two islands was a notoriously perilous body of water—and as she completed the docking process, she silently decided to spend the night here in the harbor before making her way back in the morning. When she was younger, she’d made the trip numerous times with friends and family, but the carefree enjoyment she’d once felt had been replaced by a more mature respect for the weather forces at play in the wide strip of sea.

  She’d had a lot of time to think about her final conversation with Uru about the cat. He’d been embarrassed, she was sure of that. And also a little frightened, though he had protested that he had no need of a patrol of the area, or any worry that he was in personal danger.

  The morning was clear and sunny, and the idea of ghosts seemed out of place in the daylight. Walter had radioed ahead on her behalf to arrange with the Kona office of the Hawaii County Police Department for the use of a car for the afternoon. She realized that he must have suggested some sort of official interisland cooperation with the solar panel investigation, because the harbormaster told Kali not to worry about the time—she could use the slip for as long as she needed, no fees necessary.

  She took a folded blanket from the boat’s storage chest and stepped onto the dock. After nodding in thanks to the harbormaster, she whistled for Hilo, who stood poised to leap onto the dock, his tail up and his ears arranged in an expectant half-mast position meant to convey willingness, but not, at this stage, complete commitment. Kali understood that this was in case he was left on board, at which point the dog’s ego would require at least the pretense that spending the day on the boat deck was exactly what he’d hoped for all along.

  Hilo sat back on his haunches briefly, then launched himself from the boat deck to the dock. He loped along, sniffing the ground enthusiastically. Fish, bait, other dogs, humans he hadn’t met, urine, dropped scraps of food—each was significant and worthy of being explored before moving on. It was, at least in canine terms, a marvelous theme park of olfactory delights.

  Kali shook her head as he nosed a fish head that had, judging by its color and the rank fumes emanating from it, already spent a considerable amount of time in the rough grass of the parking area. When called, he came reluctantly to where she stood beside a slightly dented older Prius. She checked the tag number against a slip of paper in her pocket, then opened the door and reached beneath the driver’s seat. Her hand closed around the key that had been left there, and she marveled for the length of a single breath at the trusting—if sometimes misplaced—Hawaiian attitude toward life and theft.

  She spread the blanket across the backseat and stepped aside as Hilo clambered in. While he found a comfortable position, she looked over the directions she’d printed out, lowering the rear windows so that Hilo would have both an unobstructed view and the pleasure of feeling the wind pinning back his ears as she drove.

  She was heading to a solar supply company located just outside of Waimea, a small town in the northwestern area of the Big Island. Compared to Maui, the roads here were nearly free of traffic. She drove slowly from the harbor onto Highway 19, past two separate development sites with rows of newly built homes and condominiums. A few miles farther along, the hill on the inland side of the highway showed various stages of yet another development—this time of larger, custom-designed houses. A colorful billboard promised that the houses in the exclusive community of Secret Haven were now for sale, with a variety of financing options available.

  She slowed the car. The roofs of the custom homes all had solar panels angled to face the south. The development was extensive and looked as though it would have around several hundred houses when it was complete. Some company, thought Kali, had likely made a good profit supplying solar arrays to that many structures.

  On impulse, she pulled in and parked next to a large flatbed truck loaded with pallets of ceramic floor tile. There were several workmen moving between the two houses closest to the truck. Another man was checking the tile delivery, ticking off items listed on a clipboard. He paused, and waited as Kali approached.

  “Aloha,” Kali said. She nodded toward the pallets. “The tile for the bathrooms?”

  “Kitchens,” said the man. “Can I help you?”

  “Just stopped to look. These places are huge.”

  The man looked toward the buildings. “Too big,” he said. “Who needs that much space?”

  She nodded, agreeing. “Can’t imagine what it will cost to cool off those places,” she said. “And the mainlanders have to have air-conditioning while t
hey’re in their vacation houses, right?”

  “Don’t think they can live without it,” the man said, grinning in agreement. “Give me an open window and a tropical breeze any day.”

  Kali smiled and looked up, then scanned the rooflines. “Does the utility bill cost less in a housing development with the solar electricity?”

  The workman shrugged. “Not my department. I just lay the tile. But if you’re interested, there’s a guy in the office over there who can give you a brochure with some contact information on it. The builder has a Web site that tells all about how it’s good for the environment.”

  “Thanks,” said Kali. She walked in the direction the man had indicated. There was a small trailer that had a sign by the door reading SALES OFFICE. She knocked, and a voice inside told her to come in and close the door.

  Inside the small space was a table doing double duty as a desk and a filing cabinet. There was a stack of brochures on one side, and Kali picked one up.

  “Mind if I take one of these?” she asked.

  “Help yourself,” said the man behind the desk. “If you want rates, you’ll need to call the builder directly. The units vary in size and finishes, so the prices are all over the place. He’s got a couple of different developments in progress. Not all the houses are as expensive as these.”

  “Are they all solar powered?”

  “Most of them. This builder is competing with a lot of other local developers, and his big marketing tool is the renewable energy angle.”

  “Thanks,” said Kali. She left the trailer and closed the door carefully behind her. She studied the brochure as she walked back to the car. The builder’s business address was listed as in Honokaa, which was past Waimea. She folded the brochure and put it in her pocket, thinking it might be good to speak to a couple of general housing contractors, who might be able to give her a different perspective than the actual suppliers of solar equipment.