by Debra Bokur
When he walked through the door, the manager was stocking shelves with bags of snack chips. The manager made no sign that he’d noticed a customer walking in.
“Any chance you could help me out over here?” the builder called out, his voice conveying annoyance. He took his credit card out and tapped the edge of the card impatiently against the counter.
The manager abandoned the snack chips and walked over, positioned himself behind the counter at the cash register. The builder handed his credit card across the counter. The manager looked up when he saw the name on the card and did a double take. His face registered surprise.
“Oh, hi there. You got the phone message, then?” the manager said.
The builder looked at him blankly. “What phone message?”
The man looked confused. “Day before yesterday? About the girl who was here looking for you?”
When the builder made no response, the manager continued. “She was here trying to track you down. Says she left a necklace on your boat when it was moored over by the state park.”
The builder’s brow creased. The Beryl had been moored in one particular spot for the transfers on at least a half-dozen occasions by now.
He smiled at the manager, keeping his voice even when he said, “Oh, I see. I’ve been off-island for a few days, so I’m afraid I didn’t get the message if it was left on my office number. Did she leave a name or a place to reach her? I had quite a party on the boat a few weeks back, so I’m afraid I’m not really sure who might have lost a piece of jewelry.”
“No, she didn’t actually leave her name or any phone number,” the manager answered, realizing suddenly that he should have at least asked. “But,” he said, nodding toward a set of large windows overlooking the parking lot, “you’re in luck. She’s been hanging out here since she first showed up a few days ago. I saw her this morning over by the picnic tables.”
“Well, that’s certainly lucky,” the man said smoothly. “What does she look like?”
“Shoulder-length dark hair, looks Hawaiian Asian. Very thin,” he said. “And she was wearing shorts and a T-shirt.”
“Great. Thanks. The diesel-pump pay station’s not working, by the way.”
“Sorry about that,” said the manager, running the credit card through his register. He printed a receipt and handed it to the man, who was looking out the window toward the picnic area. “But hey, if you hadn’t come inside, you’d have missed the girl.”
The man took the card and the receipt and slipped them into his wallet.
“I must have been born under a lucky star,” he said before he exited through the front door. He turned immediately up the path, his pace slow as he scanned the faces of the few people who were walking about.
He walked to the rim of the parking lot, then searched the shadowy light beneath the trees along that area, where a stretch of parkland had been fitted with a half-dozen picnic tables and benches. Makena was almost immediately visible, picking through a garbage can near the tables. As he watched, she waved a horde of flies away and pulled the leftovers of someone’s sandwich from the trash. Without even examining it closely, she began to eat it.
He walked toward her, calling out in a friendly voice. “Hello there. Are you the girl looking for the Beryl?”
She paused and looked over at him, curious. “I might be. Why?”
He pointed back to the marina, where the Beryl waited by the fuel pumps. “There she is,” he said.
She dropped the sandwich and walked closer to the parking lot. There was the boat just a few hundred feet away. She looked at him closely, trying to determine if he was the same man she’d watched from the hillside. “Do you know whose boat it is?”
“It’s my boat,” he said easily.
She looked from him to the boat. A young woman could be seen moving around on the deck. Makena turned back to the man. His eyes were cold, despite his smile. He said nothing, waiting for her to make her move.
“I need some money,” she said.
His shoulders lowered, relaxing. “Don’t we all?”
“Some of us more than others, seems like,” she said, her voice calculating. “For instance, I don’t have a boat. Not even a dinghy.”
His smile became a thin line. “Well, now. That’s a shame. But if I understand correctly, you lost a piece of jewelry on my boat, even though I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you on board.”
Her face twisted into a sneer. “I didn’t lose anything. But I saw something. And I bet what I saw is worth a little bit of your hard-earned cash.”
The air crackled with tension. The man spoke slowly, his voice low. “How much cash are we talking about?”
Makena looked from him to the boat, considering. “Two thousand dollars.”
“Really?” He raised his eyebrows, as though surprised. “And yet you still haven’t told me what it was you saw that should make me want to pay you anything. New at the blackmail game, are you?”
She shifted her feet, looking toward the Beryl. She took a deep breath and leaned closer to him. “I saw you push that man into the water,” she said, her voice a hiss. “So don’t give me any crap. Two thousand dollars, and I’ll keep your dirty little secret forever.”
His eyes narrowed. “He slipped,” he said, a dark smile on the edges of his lips. “Happens all the time. Could even happen to you.”
“Don’t threaten me,” she said. “I have good friends on the police force.”
“Is that so? Listen, sweetie, just because the cops know you by name doesn’t mean they’re your friends.”
She drew back, alarmed by his tone.
“Anyway, I certainly don’t need that kind of trouble,” he said, his voice friendly again. “I’ll give you the money, but you have to promise me that’s the last I’ll ever see of you.”
“Sure,” she said, not meaning it any more than he did.
“You do realize that I don’t have two grand in my pocket, don’t you?” He glanced back toward the marina office. “And even if I did, it would be a bad idea for anyone to see me giving you a big wad of money. Might get the wrong idea about our relationship.”
“I’m not dumb,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d have it on you.”
He nodded toward the Beryl. “As it happens, I do keep a little extra cash stashed on the boat,” he told her. “I’m not sure if there’s that much, but it’s probably close.”
“Well, let’s go and see,” she said.
“My daughter’s on board. I don’t want her to get caught up in this.”
“Afraid I’ll ruin your reputation?”
“Just do what I tell you, and you can take your money and get lost.”
He walked between the picnic tables and along the edge of the parking lot, then took the stairs that led down to the floating docks and the fueling station. She came behind, but not too far away.
He climbed onto the deck of the Beryl, then turned to her.
“Would you like to come on board?” he asked. “Or you can stay right here on the dock, if it makes you feel more comfortable. It will take me a few minutes to get the safe open.”
Makena looked around. Only a few other people were visible, sitting on boats in slips farther away. It was broad daylight, and a scream would likely attract plenty of attention. She hesitated, then stepped toward the deck.
“Yeah, sure,” she said. “Just hurry up.”
The builder reached out, extending his hand, and helped her on board. She backed up against the deck rail.
“Places to be?” he asked, making no attempt to hide his sarcasm.
“Got to spend that money, don’t I?”
He eyed her carefully. “You look like you’re about to run off with the silverware.” He gestured toward a seating area. “Sit down. Put your feet up. You’ll understand if I don’t invite you inside and take a chance of you seeing where my safe is.”
She shrugged. “I’m fine where I am. Thanks.”
“Please yourself.”
They were gone only a few minutes. When they returned to the deck, Makena was still standing exactly where he’d left her. He made a pretense of looking around cautiously, then flipping through the stack of twenty-dollar bills in his hand to get her attention. She stepped forward, her eagerness replacing any remnant of common sense. As she reached for the money, he slipped a heavy black Glock out of his waistband and shoved it deep into her gaunt side.
“Right now, you have a choice to make, and you’d better make it really fast,” he said, his voice a fierce whisper. “Be a good girl, and we’ll just go for a little cruise down the coast. Be a bad girl, and I’ll knock your teeth down your throat and swear you tried to rob me. You can take your chances that anyone believes a crack whore over a respectable businessman.”
Makena looked at his face and knew he was serious. “Maybe I should just get off the boat now, and you can keep your money.”
He shook his head. “A little bit too late for that, isn’t it?” He nodded toward the cockpit. “Climb up there in front of me. Now.”
She did as he told her, making her way carefully up the ladderlike steps.
“Now sit down and be very quiet while I pull out of the marina.”
She sat down on the thickly upholstered bench.
“I’m not going to dump you in the water, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said. “Too many people out and about. We’re going to pull out of here and head for deeper water till the sun goes down, and then I’m taking you to my daughter’s house.”
Her face reflected a dawning sense of terror. Her eyes welled with tears. “I’m not going to tell anyone anything,” she said, her voice a whimper. “I swear it.”
“No, I don’t think you will,” he agreed.
Watching Makena from the corner of one eye, he cranked the engine. The boat shuddered slightly. He climbed down the stairs and cast of the lines, never taking his eyes off of her. He climbed back up into the cockpit and eased the boat out past the harbor markers and into the deeper water beyond the bay. He set the autopilot at a slow cruising speed and turned back to Makena.
“Okay. Below deck, princess,” he said, pointing the gun at her. She got up and retraced her way down the steps from the cockpit. He led the way down another set of steps and opened the door to the lounge. Roughly, he pushed her inside. Below deck, the surroundings were impressive—all gleaming wood and brass, with a deep, thick carpet. The other woman was there, next to the door, waiting.
“I need you to stay quiet for a while,” he said to Makena, handing the Glock to the other woman. “My daughter will keep you company.”
The woman’s face was blank. “You Hawaiians. It’s really impossible to clean you up, isn’t it? Well, no one can say I haven’t tried,” she said.
Just as Makena was about to reply, the woman raised her arm and hit her across the side of her head with the gun. She crumpled and fell to the carpet, unconscious. Followed by his daughter, the man picked up Makena with one hand by the front of her shirt and dragged her into one of the forward staterooms, where he left her facedown on the floor. He looked down at her, as if considering. His daughter grinned.
“I don’t think ninety pounds of unhealthy flesh is much of a threat, Dad. I’m certainly not staying in here with her. She smells like a leaking septic tank. Leave her on the bed and we’ll lock the door.”
The man lifted Makena and dropped her onto the bed.
“We’re going to have to burn everything to get rid of the stench—sheets, cover, pillows, carpet,” he agreed, locking the door behind them.
“Now what?” the woman asked as they made their way back up to the deck. She handed the gun to him. “Wait until dark and head back out across the channel, where she can accidently fall overboard? Or can I play with her first?”
The man looked away, ignoring her remark. “I’m afraid this has turned into something of a mess. We should be sitting by the pool right now, enjoying dinner. I’m a rich man, and you’re a rich woman.” He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Sorry about all of this, pumpkin. Life is supposed to be easy for people like us.”
CHAPTER 36
Kali parked the Jeep outside of George’s Island Market. She’d left Hilo at home for the day while the search for Makena continued. George was inside, ensconced behind the cash register with the day’s tabloid, his calm presence providing a false sense of normalcy to the day.
“They found another mermaid in Norway,” George said by way of greeting. “In one of those fjords. You’d think the water would be too cold for a mermaid to want to hang around.”
“You’d think.” She smiled briefly as the image of a mermaid in a Scandinavian sweater flitted through her mind. “I’m looking for Makena Shirai, George. Has she been around?”
George looked up sharply at Kali’s tone.
“She was,” he said reluctantly. “I think it was about three days ago. Maybe not that long. She came in and asked to use the phone.”
Kali waited.
“I made her leave,” said George. “Which, I’m going to guess, is probably not what you want to hear.”
“She called me from somewhere about then, and now we can’t find her. The number traced to a stolen cell phone. I’m afraid she’s in trouble.”
Kali could feel George scrutinizing her face, seeming to sense the genuine worry.
“Drugs?”
“Not this time. It appears she’s pedaling some information, playing at blackmail.”
“You checked the waterfall areas? I heard she’s been working a couple of the parking areas fairly recently, helping herself to whatever the tourists leave in their unlocked cars.”
“Good grief. You’d think we have enough signs posted everywhere telling people not to leave valuables in their rental cars.”
“Tourists,” said George, shaking his head. A wry smile played at the corner of his mouth, but he kept his voice somber. “Of course, they have to stop here next, to buy more sunglasses and tanning cream and disposable cameras. It’s important to appreciate the way the universe works.”
Kali nearly smiled.
“We’ve been back and forth, up and down the road,” she said. “Every possible spot, from Hana Airport to where the road turns to dirt. Couple of sightings, but no sign of where she’s been sleeping lately.”
“That would be tough to figure, anyway, wouldn’t it? I’ve found her sleeping behind the Dumpster before. There’s a lot of remote land on either side of the road. A lot of places to disappear to if you don’t want to be found.”
Kali leaned against the counter, suddenly exhausted. George was right, of course. There were plenty of areas of Maui that were still raw and wild and that offered ample hiding places. Outside, the wind had picked up again, and clouds were scuttling across the sky. Hawaii was not bright and shiny today, and she could sense a darkness welling up from its deceptive garden surface. Chances were good they’d find Makena’s body in a ditch somewhere, overdosed and discarded.
“No news yet on Kekipi Smith or the other guy that washed up?” George asked. His voice suggested that the possibility of a connection between recent events and the search for Makena had not escaped him.
“Not yet.”
“Girl like that,” said George slowly, “creates her own trouble. Remember that, Detective. Some people just can’t be helped.”
“Yeah. I know.” Kali straightened up and turned toward the door. “Got to do what I can, though, George. You call me right away if she shows up or if you hear anything about her.”
“Will do.” He reached behind himself into a small refrigerated cupboard, then tossed a pineapp
le soda to Kali. “For the road,” he said.
Kali nodded her thanks and walked back to the Jeep. She opened the bottle and drank the contents, then rubbed the cool, beaded surface of the empty glass across her forehead.
She headed north on Highway 360 toward Hamoa Beach and stopped several times along the way to ask if anyone at any of the food stalls that dotted the length of the road had any news to share. Just as she had finished speaking to the proprietors of the shave-ice stand just out of town, Walter’s voice crackled over the radio in the Jeep.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Just talked to George, and he says the last time he saw her was a few days ago, when she came in to make a phone call, but he sent her away. Anything on your end?”
“Hara took a complaint call late yesterday afternoon from someone over at the marina at Hana Bay. The caller said a drug dealer, a female, was working the parking area. The description fits Makena. We just checked, and the same girl was seen getting onto a big swanky boat earlier today. We’ve got an ID on the boat, a big cruiser, and the Coast Guard is looking for it right now.”
“What’s the boat, and who owns it?”
“It’s registered as the Beryl. Technically belongs to a building company on the Big Island.”
“Name?”
“Just the company, Sunspot Ltd. But we have a description of the company owner. Male, midfifties, stocky, height five feet, ten inches.”
There was silence on the radio. She waited, knowing him well enough to know he needed his moment of drama.
