by Debra Bokur
Kali was silent as she turned these facts over in her mind. As she mulled over the few similarities, which seemed to be limited to another male body in a pineapple field, Tomas pulled off the paved main road and onto a bumpy secondary one leading into the island’s interior. A sudden gust of wind threw sand and debris against the side of the car, and she watched apprehensively as the field came fully into view.
CHAPTER 8
The pineapple field was buzzing with activity. Kali wondered briefly if there had been this many people weighing down its surface since the fruit production had ceased years before. A slender, dark-haired man standing next to a tent at the command center looked up as Kali and Tomas pulled to a stop next to a collection of other vehicles. She recognized him as the scene-of-crime officer heading up the team on Lna‘i. He was dressed, as were a number of other people, in the white plastic coveralls so omnipresent at a crime scene. As Kali and Tomas climbed out of the car, the man gave a brief wave, then pointed to a couple of packets stacked on top of a folding table in front of the tent.
Kali and Tomas approached the table. Tomas reached for one of the packets, tossing it to Kali. She caught it and shook out the thin plastic garments contained inside: a spare set of coveralls, an elastic-edged cap, and a pair of booties to pull over her shoes.
“Let’s get you dressed so you can see what we found,” Tomas said, glancing toward a spot behind him where several people were grouped around an opening in the ground. “Coroner’s waiting for you, Burial Council has come and gone—and just a heads-up that Chief Pait’s here, too.”
Kali tried to keep her face neutral, but knew she had failed by the twinkle in Tomas’s eyes. The presence of Maui Chief of Police Leo Pait meant that there was likely a public relations aspect to the investigation that would have to be taken into consideration—a situation that had often caused Kali a great deal of aggravation.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” said Tomas. “My team is going to start on the next section of field. Just in case.”
He walked away, and Kali pulled the plastic suit on. It was baggy and almost immediately hot. She pulled the cap over her hair and slipped the booties over her shoes, then made her way along a newly defined path to the grave site. She could see Stitches engaged in conversation with Chief Pait. She listened as she approached.
“. . . two males,” Pait was saying, shaking his head as he leaned over slightly to look into the open ground near his feet. “I need to know this is the full extent of it, Doctor.” Both he and Stitches turned to Kali as she stopped in front of them. Pait straightened himself to his full height, gazing down on her. Kali was struck, as always, by how thin and narrow and pale he was; his frame was topped by a head full of glistening, snowy hair. Standing on the edge of an open grave, even framed by brilliant sunlight, he looked as if he could be a spirit who’d just stepped out of the deep, sleeping night of the earth to briefly visit the bright, living day.
“Detective Mhoe. Just the person I need to see,” he said. “Let’s take care of this quickly, shall we? The tribal officials have already been, by the way. You can pack him up.”
“Good morning, Chief,” she said, choosing not to comment on the untenable directive he’d just issued. She nodded at Stitches. “Anything interesting so far?”
“Dr. Stitchard was just noting that both bodies are male,” said Pait, his voice exuding conviction, as though this small fact was of huge significance.
“Yes, well, statistically speaking—” began Stitches, but Pait interrupted.
“Not my concern, statistics. Bodies in pineapple fields, yes. Statistics—well, far less interesting.”
Kali and Stitches exchanged glances. Seeing how Stitches had her lips pressed together, Kali understood the supreme effort it took for the doctor to refrain from commenting.
Pait turned to Kali. He gestured toward the command center. “I’ve got to make a public statement about all of this later today,” he said. “What’s your theory so far, Detective?”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t have one. I just got here, as you see.”
Pait frowned. “Well, off the top of your head?”
Kali held up both hands, palms facing the sky. “Turf battle? Pineapple wars? The bodies of the defeated left behind to fertilize the fruit? Really, Chief, at this point it’s impossible to formulate a likely theory.”
“Later today, then. Be in touch.” Pait nodded to the women and turned away, walking back in the direction of the tent.
“Well then,” said Stitches. “Since you seem to have been given a time line for solving who-only-knows what kind of crime, I suppose I should brief you.” She pointed to the exposed skeleton in the hole, and Kali noted that there was still hair visible on the skull. “Not counting the foot shorn off at the ankle—thanks to the somewhat eager volunteer digger who stumbled upon this gentleman with his shovel—there are no obvious injuries like bullet holes or a missing head, but the neck is broken, though that may have happened long after death. What else can be determined remains to be seen. There is, as you can see, a hibiscus root growing through the rib cage, which isn’t surprising given the relatively shallow nature of the grave.” She looked the body over. “What I can tell you definitively at this point is that this is an adult male who had brown hair and stood about six feet three inches when alive. Of course, ethnicity has yet to be determined.”
Kali listened, walking slowly around the grave while Stitches spoke. She stopped at the foot of the hole, where she could take in the full length of the dead man. The hands, like those of the first body, were crossed over the chest. Above the pelvis hung what remained of a wide, drooping leather belt with a rusted metal clasp. The clasp was shaped like a sunburst, more decorative than the typical buckle found on a man’s belt. Any clothing had long since rotted away. Kali pulled out her phone and took a photo of the belt buckle.
“The hands,” said Kali.
Stitches nodded. “Yes.”
There was the rustle of ground birds from somewhere nearby, and the muted chatter of people going about their business at the crime scene. Kali closed her eyes and listened to what might be discernible beneath the surface noise. She imagined the snaking root and the toothed leaves of the yellow hibiscus, the lovely ma‘o hau hele, making its way through the earth, reaching into the dead man’s ribs and wrapping around the space that had once held his heart. Who left you here? she wondered to herself, but there was no answer to be heard.
“Let’s get him back to Maui and see what he has to tell us,” said Stitches, breaking into her reverie.
Kali stood back, watching as the body was removed with care from the ground for transport back to the county morgue. Once the bones had been gathered, Tomas returned, stepping carefully into the empty space that had been left behind. He carried a sifting screen, a bucket, and a box of plastic evidence bags. There wasn’t enough space for two people to work next to one another, so Kali crouched on the edge and worked her way through the mound of earth that had been removed as the body had been revealed. She thought of the man’s damaged skeleton, and of the bone breakers who had once roamed the islands, working as freelance thugs for the many minor chieftains who had warred regularly with one another along the coastlines.
She’d been told these stories and others by her grandmother, the celebrated Hawaiian author and historian Pualani Pali. Pualani had been the kahu who served as the spiritual leader and wisdom keeper of Kali’s family, a position of great status. Because of this family connection and her close relationship to her grandmother, Kali’s upbringing had included an immersion in not only the spiritual beliefs and legends of Hawai‘i, but also in the culture, geography, and botanical features that made this remote Pacific island chain so unique.
She’d studied the vast collection of tales handed down orally through generations of Hawaiian people, later gathered and assembled by anthropologists and historians, each story having a multitude of variations depending upon the teller of the tale. This knowledge h
ad proven invaluable in her position with the Maui Police Department, and in her role as a consulting expert throughout the entire chain of islands, particularly in cases that suggested a connection between a crime and Hawai‘i’s rich mythology. Her position was unique: Not only was she a native Hawaiian with a degree in cultural anthropology, she had been identified by her grandmother as the kahu of her own generation, a position always handed down from grandparent to grandchild.
Pualani had tailored Kali’s education to help her fulfill this role, and learning even the darkest tales became part of her lessons. Her mind wandered from the burial site across the distant hills and slopes, through the long, deep valley to the past where so much blood had seeped into the ground beneath the trees, feeding their roots.
Tomas’s voice interrupted her thoughts, bringing her suddenly and firmly back to the field.
“Here we go,” Tomas crooned with satisfaction, climbing from the hole and passing a small metal object to Kali.
Kali lifted it with her fingertips, peering at it closely, and then placed it in the palm of her left hand. A wave of familiarity washed over her. It was a tiny anchor, the arm at the bottom of the shank flattened out into a straight bar, and a small round hole where the top bars met. To all appearances, it was identical to the one that had been found in the pocket of the headless man.
“Here we go indeed,” repeated Kali softly. The possibility of mere coincidence, or that two random burials had taken place in the same location, vanished. She surveyed the huge sweep of pineapple field. The majority of it had been turned over, but there were areas that still needed to be searched. Her eyes followed the line between the first grave and the second. Though there was considerable distance between them, they appeared to be roughly aligned with the edge of the service road that bordered the field. She turned to Tomas, who stood waiting for direction. “Ask the crew to concentrate on the field’s perimeter where it’s accessible by the service road,” she said.
He nodded his assent, and headed off to speak to the backhoe operator. She texted Walter, receiving an almost immediate reply that he’d take a launch over to meet her early the next morning.
Kali sat back on her feet, wondering how many other lonely things the ma‘o hau hele roots might have brushed against as they reached downward in their search for water and nutrients. She looked at the shrubs scattered across the landscape, imagining their flowers filled with the souls of the nameless dead.
CHAPTER 9
Kali spent the night at the Hotel Lna‘i, rising early to meet with Tomas for a quick breakfast in the small dining room. Walter had already texted that he’d arrived at the command center and was waiting for them to make their way there.
Their coffee cups had just been filled by a quiet, shy waitress when there was a crackle from the radio that was secured within a pouch in Tomas’s duty belt. At almost the same moment, Kali’s cell phone began to vibrate, jiggling slightly on the table where she’d placed it. They exchanged glances as each answered, and Tomas signaled to the waitress that they needed to leave. She hurried over with two paper to-go cups, transferring their coffee from the mugs on the table. As they made their way to the door, the same waitress met them, thrusting a large paper bakery bag into Tomas’s hand.
“Coconut donuts.” She smiled. “For the road. I put in extra.”
Tomas nodded, accepting the bag with gratitude. “Mahalo, Claire.”
Kali looked at him as they crossed over onto the lanai. “Let me guess,” she said. “You let her off a speeding ticket.”
“Not even close,” he said. “Her kids are on the softball team I coach. One of her daughters is having a hard time, so we’re working on her batting technique.”
They stopped on the bottom step, out of earshot of the staff and guests. Kali turned to Tomas.
“I’m guessing that we got the same message,” she said.
“Another body. They’re still uncovering it.”
“That’s three. What do you make of this?”
He shook his head. “Who knows? Creepy as hell, though.”
“Makes you think. All those stories about the monsters on this island. Man-eating fiends that hunted the living.”
“They were conquered, remember? Banished a long time ago.”
She looked at him quizzically. “You’ve been in this business a long time now. There are always plenty of monsters to spare. And not all of them are found in the shadows of old stories.”
He made no response as they walked to the street where the patrol car was parked. They climbed inside, and Tomas pulled away from the curb. The sky was clear and bright, and Kali watched the morning shadows slip by along the road’s verge as Tomas drove toward the pineapple field. The old legend that he’d referred to painted Lna‘i as an island haunted by malevolent spirits. In the traditional tale, it was the wayward son of a powerful Maui chief who finally vanquished and expelled the evil forces that had taken up residence among the sloping valleys.
As though he’d been thinking about the same details, Tomas turned to her.
“It was Kaulu‘au, right? The chief’s son who did the housecleaning here? I forget why he was in trouble.”
“For pulling up all the breadfruit trees on Maui,” she said.
“Kaulu‘au’s father sent him here as punishment, but he eventually redeemed himself by casting out the evil and making the island safe again.”
“I wonder . . .” said Tomas, his voice trailing off.
“Yeah,” said Kali. “Seems like he might not have checked under all the rocks.”
They’d reached the turnoff that led down a gentle slope to the investigation assemblage area. By the time Tomas had set the parking brake, Kali already had one foot out of the door. Tomas followed her as she hurried to the edge of the field, past the site where the refrigerator had been discovered and the second body had been found, and onward another two hundred feet to where Stitches, Walter, and a few of the SOC crew were waiting. The volunteer diggers stood silently behind them.
Kali stopped next to Walter.
“Good timing getting here,” she said.
“Yeah. Most of another skeleton has been uncovered, but digging’s on hold.” He looked at the white bakery bag in Tomas’s hand. “What’s in that bag?”
Tomas passed over the pastries. Walter reached inside, removing a large donut covered in toasted coconut.
Stitches looked up at Kali. “Glad you’re still on-island,” she said. “We can’t get a Burial Council official here until about noon, but they said if you’re willing to act on their behalf, they have no problem with that. Everyone’s pretty sure these aren’t ancient remains.”
Kali nodded. “Of course. What have you found so far?”
Walter and Stitches exchanged looks. Walter swallowed the piece of donut he’d been chewing and cleared his throat.
“Another male. Except . . .”
Kali waited.
“Except he doesn’t appear to be alone,” said Stitches. “As we widened this latest grave, we could see the elbow bone of a second figure protruding into the first skeleton’s humerus, and also a tarsal from another foot, so it looks like there’s another full skeleton buried very close. Side by side.”
“Hands folded?” asked Kali.
“The first one, yes,” Walter answered. “They’ve just started uncovering the second person.”
Kali moved closer to the hole. “Any sign of another anchor charm?”
“Not so far,” said Stitches, “but there’s a lot of earth to sift through.”
Walter turned back to the waiting team. “Okay, everybody,” he called. “You know the drill. Careful.”
After a few moments of reorganization, the digging continued. As the mound of red-hued soil grew larger, Walter rejoined Kali, Stitches, and Tomas where they stood a little way back from the hole in the ground.
“Do the two new bodies have skulls attached?” Kali asked.
“The first one, yes,” answered Stitches. “But
we’ve not gotten that far with the one buried beside it.”
They each considered the ramifications in silence.
“Four people popping up in the same field without anyone noticing that any of them had gone missing is statistically unlikely in a population as small as the number of people on Lna‘i,” Walter finally said. “This whole thing is giving me a big case of the heebie-jeebies.”
“Yeah. Same.” Kali looked back to the small crowd that had gathered around the pair of bodies, feeling uneasy. On the other side of the service road that ran the length of the field, thick shrubs and small trees formed a natural barrier between the plantation and the countryside beyond it. A long length of police tape had been erected along the edge. She suddenly became aware of movement; several figures became apparent, moving slowly through the vegetation.
“We’ve got interlopers,” she said, indicating with her eyes the line of shrubs where she’d seen people moving about.
“Damn it,” said Walter. “Guess it was just a matter of time. I knew that tourist couple was never going to stay quiet about what they found. The body in the fridge has been all over the news, and when the police launch left port this morning, I noticed that the next ferryboat was packed. Word’s out, I think. At least about the first body.”
“Yeah, it’s all over the news and the fake news,” she said darkly. “We’re going to need to set up a dedicated phone line for incoming calls.” She moved closer to Tomas.
“Company,” she said, indicating the far side of the service road.
He followed her line of sight. “Okay,” he said, resigned. “I’ll go run them off.”
“I’ll help,” she said. “Just give me a minute.” She turned back to Walter. “Are you staying over here tonight?”
“Can’t,” he said. “I’ve got to make an appearance in traffic court first thing in the morning. You’ll have to fill me in as this unfolds, especially if this isn’t the last of it—but I’m going to need you around, so don’t stay longer than you have to. We got a heads-up from another arrest we made in the cock-fighting ring that there’s a big meet-up planned in the next few days. Vice says they can use our help.”
