The Bone Field

by Debra Bokur

  Kali sighed. “Okay. I’ll plan on heading back tomorrow, but I guess that depends on what else the day turns up. I should probably bring over my tent and camping gear and just set up house until the whole field has been turned over.”

  As Walter turned to rejoin Stitches, Kali caught up with Tomas. Together they walked from the field to the service road and ducked beneath the plastic police tape, moving steadily across the rough earth toward the shrubs. As they drew closer, they could see a crowd of people, standing in groups except for a few who had separated and moved to the back. Two of the women dressed in long skirts from the group Kali had seen on the ferry carried signs with sentiments that opposed the digging: LET THE DEAD REST; STIR NOT THE SOULS OF THE DEPARTED; while a few other signs challenged the police. CATCH THE KILLER, read one, while another had the words MURDERER IN OUR MIDST scrawled in red paint. Kali expected them to disperse when they caught sight of Tomas’s uniform, but instead they just waited. Kali felt her jaw clench when she spotted Chad standing near the front.

  “What did I tell you?” she said when she was close enough for him to hear.

  “A funny thing happened on the way to the beach,” answered Chad, his smile flashing in the sunlight.

  Kali’s eyes swept the crowd, estimating that there were approximately twenty-five people there. “Did you hire these people?”

  “Hire them?” said Chad, feigning surprise. “These are some of my loyal local fans.”

  “And this is a police investigation,” she said.

  “Ah, I believe what you mean is that this is a crime scene,” countered Chad. “And I’m here in my capacity as a journalist to get an official statement about why this pineapple field is filled with dead bodies. That, and why the police are trying to hide it from the public.”

  There were murmurs of assent from those standing around Chad.

  “That’s right,” said a short, stocky man standing beside him. “There’s a serial killer loose. What are the police doing to find him—or her—and protect the public? Most of us have kids. We’re too afraid to let them out into our yards.”

  The other voices became louder and more adamant. The two women holding the religious signs began to sing a hymn. Kali wondered where their older, tattoo-opposed companion was. To the rear of the crowd, one person stood slightly apart from the others, saying nothing. He was tall, his face concealed by a straw hat with a wide brim.

  Tomas looked at Kali, one eyebrow raised, then turned back to the assembly of people.

  “All right, that’s enough,” he said. “An official statement is forthcoming. Meanwhile, I need you to disperse. Your presence here may very well contaminate the area where we’re working.”

  “We’re on this side of the police tape,” Chad pointed out. “Well within our rights as observers. And as a journalist—”

  Kali laughed. “For crying out loud, Chad, how many times does someone need to explain to you that having a blog or a podcast or whatever the hell—”

  “Blogcast,” said Chad, his voice smug.

  “—does not make you a journalist,” she finished. “Let’s see some credentials. I’ll let you slide if you show me a diploma with a journalism degree, or a press pass from an accredited news association—not something you generated online and printed out in a fancy font.”

  “I have an Emmy nomination for my role as an investigative journalist.”

  “From a television show!” Kali nearly shouted. She took a deep breath, trying to control her mounting annoyance. “And I don’t believe you actually won the award, did you?”

  “Oversight and politics,” he said, completely unruffled.

  Tomas intervened. “Okay, that’s enough. All of you, stay on that side of the tape. That includes you, Mr. Caesar. No pictures. No recording. As I’ve already said, an official police statement will be issued later today. Understood?”

  “Freedom of information, Officer!” yelled the man standing next to Chad. “You can’t stop the people from learning the truth! It’s your job to protect us!”

  There was more agreement from the others, this time louder. The women in the blue skirts laid their signs on the ground and joined hands with one another, raising them above their heads. One of them bowed her head and began to pray aloud.

  “You will be safest when you follow police directions, which, this morning, are to stay on that side of the barrier and follow all police orders,” said Tomas, his firm voice rising above the din. “Otherwise, you will be removed from the area. In handcuffs, if necessary.” He spoke into his radio. A uniformed officer on loan from Maui waved to them from the area where vehicles had been parked in a line, facing the field next to the command center. Tomas and Kali stepped away from the crowd and watched as the officer got into a truck and backed out of the line, driving slowly toward them along the dirt service road.

  “We’ve called in extra volunteers to help today,” said Tomas, his voice quiet, “but we’re about tapped out. This is slow going.”

  “Relatively shallow graves, though, which helps a little. Hopefully we can get out of here soon. So far, the body in the refrigerator was buried the most deeply. Maybe that was to help make sure a heavy rain didn’t wash off the soil and expose it. I wonder if the pineapple man was more important to the killer than these other people.”

  “Or maybe,” said Tomas, considering, “the killer just ran out of refrigerators.”

  When the approaching truck came to a halt, Tomas moved away, speaking briefly to the officer who was driving, then rejoined Kali, who was busily scanning the faces in the small crowd around Chad. The tall, hatted man in the rear had distanced himself even more from the others. There was something familiar about him. Kali slipped beneath the tape, walking around the other people. The tall man was aware of her approach, and turned to walk away.

  “One moment, sir,” she called.

  The man hesitated, but took a few more steps away, walking parallel to the service road.

  “Sir!” she called again, her voice firm. “Wait where you are, please.”

  The man stopped, standing still as Kali caught up to him. She could tell, now that she was close enough, that he was elderly.

  “Are you with the others?” she asked, indicating Chad’s fan group.

  The man smiled in response. “Well, yes and no. We all arrived at about the same time, you see. I more or less tagged along as they seemed to know where they were going. I assure you I am not here to cause any trouble.”

  His voice was familiar. Kali studied his face. “Could you please remove your hat, sir?”

  Again he smiled slightly, then took off his hat, standing quietly with it in one hand, pressed lightly against his thigh.

  “You’re the gentleman from the hotel. You were a guest there a few nights ago when I was staying there.”

  He shook his head.

  “Not a guest. I’d enjoyed dinner there, and was merely pausing briefly on the lanai.”

  “To greet the moon.”

  He bowed, the motion brief. “Yes. To greet the moon.”

  She was confused. “Do you live near the hotel?”

  He nodded. “Quite near. I’ve lived on this gracious island since I was a much younger man.”

  “Were you with the pineapple company?”

  His eyes clouded over. “I was not, though a member of my family was.”

  “And who was that?”

  “Ah. My son-in-law.”

  Kali waited, but the man said nothing more.

  “And why are you so interested in what’s going on out here?”

  The man smiled, but the gesture seemed half-hearted. “Even at my age, curiosity is alive and well. I heard that there was an unfortunate discovery here in the field, and naturally wondered what that might be. When I spoke to you that night at the hotel, I didn’t realize you were a police officer.” He looked back in the direction of the crowd. “Nor did I know that these people would be troublesome. I should have come on my own.”

  S
he watched him closely.

  “Did you hear about all of this through Chad Caesar?”

  He looked at her blankly. “Chad who?”

  “The blond actor who led everyone here?”

  His brow furrowed. “I’m afraid I don’t know him, or even that he’s an actor. But yes, he did take charge of the group, steering the others to this location.”

  She nodded. He didn’t seem to be the type of gushing follower that Chad naturally attracted. “I’m a detective, by the way. Kali Mhoe. And you are?”

  There was no change of expression on his face.

  “My name is Bill Bragden.”

  “Well, Mr. Bragden. I’m very interested in learning more about the plantation and the people who worked here. Is there a chance you could put me in touch with your son-in-law?”

  He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sweeping the field behind them. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. He disappeared, you see. Spent a good number of years making my daughter’s life miserable, then he went to work one day and never came home.”

  Before she could comment, she caught sight of Tomas, waving wildly, signaling to her that he needed to see her. There was an urgency to his gesture. Kali turned back to Bill, distracted.

  “Where can I find you later today, Mr. Bragden? I’d like to speak with you about your son-in-law, but this isn’t the best time.”

  He nodded. “I can see that. I’m quite easy to find. White house with bright red shutters on Boat Street. Drop by whenever it’s convenient. I have nowhere to go.”

  She turned toward Tomas, jogging back along the road to meet him.

  “What’s up?” she asked. Behind him in the distance, she could see that the old man had turned away. He was standing very still, gazing out over the field.

  “I don’t know,” said Tomas, “but they need us at the new grave site immediately.”

  She looked in the opposite direction, toward the area currently being excavated. Stitches was standing in the hole, and Kali could see Walter and the others squatting around the perimeter. She walked quickly toward them, hearing the thud of her shoes fall into rhythm with Tomas’s footsteps. As they reached the grave, the others turned toward her, their faces serious.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Walter rose and stepped aside, pointing to the cavity in the dirt at their feet.

  “See for yourself,” he said.

  Kali looked into the grave in astonishment, then met Stitches’s eyes.

  “Is that . . . ?” she asked.

  “Oh yes,” said Stitches. “I can confirm that this grave holds the bodies of one adult male, one adult female, and one female infant. An ‘ohana, yes?”

  Hearing the Hawaiian word for family, Kalie fixed her gaze on the row of skeletons, lingering on the tiny form nestled beside the female body.

  “I would suggest,” said Stitches, “even at this stage of examination, that the child is quite, quite young. Also, we found another anchor charm beneath it.”

  “Under the tiny keiki?”

  “Yes. It may have been wrapped in something that’s since rotted away, but that’s where it was.”

  “All of them, left out here in this damned, dried-out field,” said Kali, her voice barely a whisper. A wave of anger swept through her, followed by a surge of responsibility. The bodies of the victims had been found and could be laid properly to rest, but that wasn’t enough. She had to find who had been responsible—who had placed the little charms, filled the holes with dirt, and then walked away from the dead.

  CHAPTER 10

  Over the course of the morning, the three bodies from the mass grave were removed from their resting places and prepared for transport. The search in the remainder of the field had taken on a new urgency, and Kali watched as the patched, grassy areas abutting the service road were explored by several people pushing wheeled radar units across the ground. Along with some of the volunteers, she walked slowly through the nearby rows of mixed red earth, pushing a long metal probe into the ground in the hunt for more bones. There was nothing more to be found in the path line where the other bodies had been discovered, so the search teams moved to the interior of the field.

  As the sun grew higher, Kali’s energy began to diminish. The heat was becoming oppressive, and though she’d been loaned a pair of gloves, the constant thrusting required to use the probe had left blisters on her hands. She looked around for Tomas. He had stopped beside one of the volunteers, who had struck something in the earth. Instinctively, her whole body tensed.

  “Just a rock,” he said as she approached.

  Her momentum waning, she held the long probe balanced on her shoulder. “Feel like loaning me your car?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Keys are in the ignition. If you tell me you’re running away, I won’t blame you. It’s hot as hell out here.”

  She grinned. “What are you talking about? This is paradise, brah. All the brochures and television ads say so.”

  He wiped the perspiration from his chin with the back of his hand. The gesture left a streak of dirt across his skin. “Right. Easy to forget that sometimes.”

  “There was a guy in the crowd earlier. Tall older man who told me his name is Bill Bragden and that he’s a local. Ever hear of him?”

  “Bill? Sure,” said Tomas. “Quiet guy, been here for as long as I can remember.”

  “You know anything else about him?”

  Tomas frowned. “Yeah, I think there was something. I can’t remember the details. Something that happened a long time ago. I think one of his kids died. It was before my time on the police force, but I think it got mentioned at a gathering. Maybe some cookout or a festival a while ago. Why?”

  “I don’t know. He was curious about what we’re doing here.”

  “By now, everyone on this island is curious. You might have noticed there’s not a whole lot of anything else going on. Or maybe he’s just following that actor around.”

  “I don’t think so. Yes, he was with Chad’s entourage, but he’s not really one of them. He didn’t seem to know who Chad is. Regardless, I’d like to talk to him. He gave me his address.”

  “Sure. I’ll let you know if there’s any more excitement.”

  “Yeah, do that,” she said, stifling a yawn. “I’m going to find Walter and take him with me.”

  She trudged down the service road to the parking area. Walter was there, talking on the police radio to the station on Maui. He ended the call as she approached.

  “I’m sick of talking to people about roosters,” he said, following her to Tomas’s police cruiser. “Where are you going?”

  “To talk to a Mr. Bill Bragden, someone who was in that crowd following Chad around earlier. Feel like coming with me?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Yes. And for once, I hope wherever we’re going includes an air conditioner.”

  They climbed inside the car. The windows had been left down, but the interior upholstery was still hot. As she and Walter clipped their seat belts, her phone buzzed. The screen showed a text from Tomas, along with a photograph. The message said: This is the one found under the infant’s body in case you need it. The attached image was a close-up of a small, silver anchor charm.

  Got it, she texted in reply, feeling a wave of frustration wash over her. She turned to Walter. “Picture of the anchor,” she said.

  He nodded. “It’s going out on the news later today, too. I’m not in favor of it, but Pait insists. There won’t be any mention that it was found with the bodies, just an appeal to anyone who might recognize it to get in touch with us right away.”

  “I don’t like it either,” she said. “But maybe it will stir something up.”

  “What’s the story on this little field trip we’re taking?”

  “I met this guy at the hotel the first time I stayed over after our pineapple man turned up. He seemed polite. And old. But he was at the field again today, watching with the rest of Chad’s groupies.”

  “That does
n’t mean anything. Why the interest?”

  “Tomas says he’s been around for a long time. And Bragden told me today that his own son-in-law, who worked for the pineapple company, disappeared.”

  “Got it. You talk and I’ll listen, okay?”

  She cleaned the lenses of her sunglasses and adjusted the seat, then eased out of the parking space and followed the service road back out to the main road. She could see Chad and his followers still keeping vigil on the far side of the police barrier. He was watching her as she drove away, and she held her hand out of the window, pointing her index finger directly at him. She could see him grinning.

  “You’ve got to stop letting that guy get under your skin,” said Walter, watching the interaction.

  “Yeah. While I’m at it, I’ll stop the tides from washing in and out, too.”

  The road wound inland, back into town. Bill’s address was easily located, and Kali parked along the curb outside of the house. They climbed out of the car and stood facing the modest structure. It had a tin roof and a small, fenced front garden that looked as though someone spent a lot of time tending it, with several large bird-of-paradise plants and red-and-blue ginger bushes blooming near the gate. A short walkway led through the garden to the front door, which was open. Kali walked ahead and knocked on the exterior screen door, then stood waiting patiently. From within, there was the faint sound of classical music, and feet approaching across a tiled floor.

  Bill’s figure filled the doorway. “Come in!” he said, stepping aside. She pushed open the screen door and entered the cool interior, followed closely by Walter. They paused just inside the entrance. There was no formal foyer, and the cool, tiled interior was immediately on view.

  “This is Police Captain Walter Alaka’i,” she said, introducing Walter. Her eyes swept the room. She was immediately fascinated by her surroundings, and struck by the dated nature of the furnishings and décor. Everything seemed to be upholstered in a faded, flowery pattern of pink roses and winding green vines against a cream background. The room’s multiple shelves were heavy with small figurines and vases, and there was a glass-fronted cabinet on spindly legs that was filled with a set of matching china. Standing in front of the overstuffed sofa was an ornate wood-and-glass coffee table covered with decorative bowls and glossy magazines.