by Debra Bokur
For the next fifteen minutes, the two women prepared tea and omelets. They worked mostly in silence, but the atmosphere was less charged than it usually was when they were together. Kali accepted that while the moment wasn’t exactly companionable, it was at least unmarked by the swearing and angry remarks that usually defined their exchanges. She unplugged her computer and transferred it to the coffee table in front of her sofa, then set the table, realizing that it had been quite some time since she’d put out place mats and set silverware and glasses out to share a meal with another person.
After they had finished eating, they sat across from one another, content. Hilo had relocated to beneath the table, lying stretched between their feet. As Kali leaned forward, ready to get up and remove their plates, Makena spoke.
“I don’t remember my mother,” she said. There was a moment before she said anything else, as if she were trying to picture her mother in her mind. “Not even a little bit. You know, what her voice sounded like, or if she wore perfume.” There was no grief in her voice; it was a simple statement, as though this fact had only just occurred to her.
“I didn’t know her,” said Kali slowly, unsure whether or not a response was desired. “I wish I had, but she died a long time before I met your dad.”
Makena was holding a teaspoon. She looked down at the stainless steel outline, and at her fingers as she rolled the bowl of the spoon against the surface of the table. On impulse, Kali stood up. She glanced at the window, gauging the light.
“Come on,” she said. “I want to show you something outside if you feel up to it.”
Makena didn’t appear especially interested, but she rose from the table all the same. Her slight figure was silhouetted as she moved past the window, and Kali sensed the fragility of her body. She followed Kali across the lanai and down the steps to the lawn, then toward the thicket of trees where Mike’s canoe lay shrouded in its hlau shelter by the palm fronds that covered the roof of the small structure. They ducked inside the hlau, which was open at either end, Hilo darting between them. He sniffed the ground and lost interest, then dashed from beneath the shelter and across the lawn toward the drop-off to the sea. The two women watched him for a moment, then turned their gazes to the canoe.
“This is the canoe your dad was building,” said Kali.
She pulled away the large canvas tarp she’d used to cover it, revealing the slender, unfinished wooden boat. Even in its current state, it was beautiful. Makena moved toward it. She reached out and ran her fingers along the edge from the centerline toward the exaggerated stern neck that had been left in place to transport it to its current location. The interior space was only roughly hewn, suggesting the narrow cavity that had been intended.
“He wanted it to be authentic,” said Kali. “He said it needed to rest here for several years for the wood to cure properly before he could finish carving out the interior.” She didn’t bother to say what each of them knew—that his life had ended before he’d had the opportunity to complete his task.
“Why do you keep it?” Makena asked.
Kali pondered the question. How could she explain to this girl that it was a connection—something she could touch? There were good memories attached to the almost-boat. Even in its present form, it still represented possibilities that she just couldn’t let go of. Not yet, at least.
“I guess I just like knowing it’s here, close by,” she finally said. “Maybe someday, I’ll try to finish it myself.”
“Sure. Whatever,” said Makena. She seemed to lose interest and turned away. She whistled for Hilo, and he galloped up, holding a dead fish in his mouth. He dropped it in front of her, his tail wagging so energetically that his whole body swayed from side to side.
“Ewww,” said Makena, wrinkling her nose at the rank scent of the fish. She pushed Hilo’s head away. “Thanks for the present, but you are not sleeping with me tonight,” she told the dog.
Kali watched her. Makena looked tired, and she berated herself for not being more sensitive to the ordeal that the younger woman had just endured. She made one more attempt to connect. “You know, I got roped into doing a hula demonstration at the Fire Garden Festival. Maybe you could come?” She shuffled awkwardly. “It would be fun to have you there.”
Makena shrugged. “Maybe,” she said.
Kali knew not to push the invitation. “Well, it would be nice to have you there.” When Makena made no response, Kali pulled the canvas tarp carefully back over the surface of the canoe. “Anyway, I’ve got some work to catch up on,” she said. “Do you mind?”
“Why should I?” said Makena. “I want to lie down anyway. Maybe I’ll get up later and watch some TV.”
Together, they walked the short distance back to the house. Hilo followed, staying close behind Makena. After they’d gone inside, Makena disappeared into her room and closed the door. Kali waited, but there was no sound. She lifted her bag off the floor by the table and brought it to the wide space in front of the windows near an old blue armchair where a worn rug covered the floorboards. She took out her notebook and the report sent to her by Stitches, and spread them on the rug. She sat on the floor, leaning against the lower part of the armchair and read carefully through her notes. It was too soon to have a transcript from the interview with Abraham, but she thought over all he had said, mulling over his words, wondering what he was hiding about Abigail’s bracelet.
* * *
There was no sense of falling asleep, but the next thing she knew, she was being jolted awake by Hilo’s nose, indicating that it was breakfast time and he was hungry. She sat upright, stretching the cramp from her neck that had resulted from sleeping at an unnatural angle on the living room floor. The sun was fully up, and she heard the trilling of the tiny local ‘amakihi birds through the open kitchen window. She filled Hilo’s bowl and placed it on the floor for him. The sound of the birds outside was joined by the rattling of Hilo’s bowl as he devoured his meal; she saw him push the empty bowl across the floor as she went into the bathroom to wash her face and untangle her hair.
By the time she’d changed her clothes, cleared the kitchen table, and transferred her notes to its surface, there was a nebulous, half-formed idea floating around in her head. Restless, she started the coffee preparation and placed a couple of slices of raisin bread in the toaster. As the small kitchen filled with the scent of toasting bread and fresh coffee, she glanced at Makena’s door, acknowledging to herself that she wouldn’t mind some breakfast company. But the door remained closed, and there was no sound or other indication that Makena was even awake.
Kali’s text alert sounded, and she glanced at her phone. Walter had left a message that Bill Bragden had been picked up and that Tomas had delivered him to the police launch. An accompanying officer would bring him to the Hana station for questioning. Kali replied that she’d be waiting, then sent a message to Tomas asking him how Bill had responded to being sent over for a further interview. He replied that Bill seemed unhappy and uncomfortable, but hadn’t resisted.
She spent the rest of the morning organizing her thoughts. By the time she was ready to leave, there was still no sign of Makena. She left Hilo lying in a patch of sunlight on the floor, then drove to the station. Walter was there, but Hara was nowhere to be seen.
“Is he meeting the boat?” she asked. “I thought someone was driving Bill to us.”
“Correct.” He grinned. “Hara just took delivery of his own cruiser. He’s out testing it right now, happy as a puppy with a new toy. I expect by the time he rolls in, he’ll have written at least fifty traffic tickets.”
She smiled. “Good for him. He’s a nice guy, and he’s shaping up to be a good cop. Clear thinker, doesn’t get emotional, excellent eye for detail, and looks great in that uniform.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” said Walter, looking at her and shaking his head. “Little young for you, don’t you think? You should look closer to home. Like next door, where that blond guy is always out there with his shirt off, making sharp things.
”
Her mind jumped to Elvar. She looked away, walking toward her desk.
“Touch a nerve?” asked Walter, watching her with interest. “You know, Mike wouldn’t have wanted you to just shut down, and he certainly wouldn’t have wanted you to get old and creaky all by yourself. He’d have wanted someone to be around to put your food in the blender for you, and make sure you could find the glass with your teeth in it in the morning.”
“Who knows what he would have wanted?” she said. She changed the subject. “Do we have a report on Bill Bragden’s wife, showing cause of death? I want to make sure there was nothing weird there before we talk to him.”
“I got the impression when we spoke with him it might have been suicide. Overdose of sleeping pills, something like that. A depressed, grieving mother unable to cope with the loss of her only kid.”
“That’s what I thought, too, so I didn’t press him. At the time, it didn’t seem important. I’d like to know the details, though.”
He did a search while Kali looked over his shoulder. It didn’t take long to find what he was looking for. He and Kali looked at the screen, then at one another. “Well, there’s a conversation starter for you,” he said. He hit the print command for the document displayed on his screen. The printer in the corner of the office whirred to life.
Kali rose and crossed to the printer, removing the waiting sheet of paper and folding it neatly in half. “Damn people,” she said, glancing at the folded paper. “This is exactly why I prefer the company of dogs.”
CHAPTER 29
Bill Bragden sat at the metal table in the interview room in the same chair that Abraham had occupied. Kali couldn’t help but compare them to one another. While Abraham had been confident and relaxed right up until the moment when the anchor charm had been introduced to the conversation, Bill looked gray and shriveled and sorrowful.
This time, Walter took the lead. “We’ve begun recording,” he said. “You’ve been advised of your rights. Let it be noted that William Bragden, aka Bill Bragden, has waived his right to an attorney.” He turned to Bill. “Is there anything you’d like to change about the information you shared with us when Detective Mhoe and I interviewed you at your home on Lna‘i?”
Bill shook his head. “I don’t think so. To be honest, I don’t know if I can accurately recall everything we spoke about.” Kali could hear the high level of stress in his voice.
Walter looked unimpressed. “Is that so? Well, we can start all over from the beginning if you like. Tell us again about your daughter and your son-in-law, and how you came to be living on Lna‘i.”
Hesitantly, Bill recounted his earlier story of arriving in Hawai‘i to visit his daughter and her husband, and of how quickly he found himself falling in love with the islands. His voice became thick with emotion as he once again shared the details of his daughter’s illness and his suspicions that her husband was abusing her. He ended his story with Matthew’s disappearance, then sat very still.
Walter waited a moment, but when Bill said nothing more, Walter leaned forward and tapped his fingers impatiently on the surface of the metal table. “Is that all?” he asked, his voice brisk.
Bill shrugged slightly and turned to Kali, as though imploring her to understand. She stared back at him, unsmiling. She reached across the table, handing him the sheet of paper she’d carried into the room.
“You lied to us about your wife,” she said. “You told us she was dead. There is no death certificate, nor is there a divorce decree. In fact, the last public record we have for Linda Bragden shows that she legally changed her name in 1999 from Linda Bragden to Linda Waters.”
Bill looked down, his sorrow palpable. “No,” he said. “I never told you that Linda was dead. I told you that I’d lost her, which is the absolute, embarrassing truth.”
“At the very least, you deliberately misdirected us in the middle of a police investigation,” said Walter.
“What could my personal failure as a husband and a father possibly have to do with your investigation?” asked Bill.
Kali watched him carefully, considering his words. “The Hina legend,” she said finally. “That’s why you told me that you try to greet the moon’s arrival each evening. Hina is your wife, stolen from you by Abraham Waters, just as Hina was stolen from the demigod Maui by the fierce eel god Tetuna.”
Bill looked at her, his eyes portals into the deep sadness he carried with him. Walter turned to Kali, listening.
“Tetuna kept a horde of fearsome sea monsters as his allies,” she said slowly. “To get back his wife, Maui had to go to battle against them, and then conquer Tetuna.”
“Yes,” said Bill, his voice faint. “Yes, Maui won back his wife, but I did not. And I believe that Abraham Waters was—and still is—a worse monster than Tetuna or any of his cronies. Waters preyed upon my wife in a moment of unbearable grief and darkness, when she was bereft. Linda has always blamed herself for Lily’s death, for not finding the right doctor with the right treatment—and also for the mistreatment we both know that Lily suffered at the hands of Matthew Greene. She blames me as well for not giving credence to Abraham’s supposed powers, or for not joining his followers in prayer for our daughter.” He looked from Kali to Walter, his gaze intense. “If it was Matthew that you found rotting in that field, then perhaps there is a God after all. I only wish that you had found Abraham Waters there, too.”
“She went looking for an answer,” said Kali. “Something larger and more powerful than her sorrow.”
“Yes. She longed for answers and comfort.” He looked down again, avoiding their eyes. “For some reason that I still fail to grasp, she found it in that horrible man and his horrible cult with its false promises of healing and redemption, instead of finding her solace with me.”
Walter glanced at Kali, waiting for some signal. She nodded.
“Did you kill Matthew Greene?” he asked, his tone even and without prejudice. “Or do you have any knowledge of who Matthew Greene’s killer may be?”
Without looking up, Bill shook his head no.
“For the record,” said Walter, “William Bragden has denied taking the life of his son-in-law, Matthew Greene, or possessing any knowledge of the person who was responsible for ending Matthew Greene’s life.”
Kali waited until Bill seemed to regain some measure of composure. “When did your wife become involved in Eden’s River?” she asked.
Bill looked up. “It was while Lily was still alive, but clearly getting worse. There were some young women who stopped by. They were pleasant and seemed kind. After Linda mentioned Lily’s struggle, they told her about Abraham and his healing powers, that he had been blessed by God to help those who were suffering, regardless of how serious their health concerns might be. They told us stories of miraculous things that they’d witnessed Abraham accomplishing.” His voice grew bitter. “I told Linda that Waters was a con man, and whatever he was up to was nothing more than a performance designed to astound the vulnerable, and to encourage them to part with money—or more. But she was desperate to save our daughter.”
Bill described how Linda had grown angry at his resistance to giving Abraham a chance, while becoming more and more enamored of what she heard about Eden’s River.
“But before Linda could take her there, Matthew killed Lily,” he said, his bitterness mounting. “I know in my heart that he pushed her down those stairs—that he was weary of being saddled with a sick wife, and that his final act of violence was to take her life.”
“But you had no proof, and the medical examiner found no reason to see her fall as anything more than an accident,” said Walter.
“So you took things into your own hands,” said Kali. “I understand how distraught you must have been. You must have seen his death as retribution—perhaps a fair trade for the life of your daughter.”
“No, no, nothing of the kind!” said Bragden, his voice rising in distress. “I didn’t kill him, I swear!”
“Where is y
our wife now, Mr. Bragden?” asked Walter.
Bill put his hands over his eyes, leaning forward. “She’s still with him. Living on his new farm, here on Maui.”
“Have you been there?”
“No. I begged her to come home when the commune on Lna‘i was shutting down. I thought that by then, she would have come to her senses and realized what a sham the whole thing was—the miracle work, the fake healings, Abraham’s using all those women as sex slaves.”
Kali listened, wanting to believe him. She wasn’t sure why, but admitted to herself that her dislike of Abraham was so strong that she was ready to give the benefit of her doubt to anyone who had been victimized by him. But it wasn’t her job to judge. It was her job to find the truth. Once again, she removed the small anchor, encased in the evidence bag, from her pocket. She placed it on the table in front of Bragden.
“Can you identify this object?”
He looked at it, his misery apparent.
“No,” he said. “Not this object. The anchor, however, was the symbol of Abraham’s church.”
She felt Walter shift beside her, and sat back. Walter stood, indicating to Bill that he should stand as well.
“William Bragden, I am placing you under arrest for obstructing a murder investigation and for providing false information to the police,” said Walter. “You are also a suspect in the death of Matthew Greene. Please come with me.”
* * *
“I think we should bring Abigail and Ruth Waters in next, along with Linda Bragden,” said Walter.
Kali frowned. “I don’t know about Abigail,” she said. “She was a kid when all this went down, and even if she saw or heard anything, her memories are likely to be unreliable.”
“Bet she’d remember if she was raped by her own father,” said Walter. There was a look of profound disgust on his face.
“Would she? I mean, would she even regard it as rape? She grew up in a distorted reality, where Abraham’s authority was an extension of their religious doctrine.”
