His back stiffened. “Why in the world would you want to go there? That’s no place for haoles.”
“Jimmy, I know that Buddy has told you about our involvement with the stolen artifacts and the murders of his grandfather and uncle. And don’t forget people associated with that village kidnapped Maggie and me. I have learned a lot about the history of your people, and I want to see the real Hawaii, firsthand.”
“I am a modern boy, but I also know you should not tempt the old ones. Do you remember the old Jim Croce song that says, ‘You don’t tug on Superman’s cape; you don’t spit into the wind; you don’t pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger,’ and in this case you don’t mess around with things you don’t understand.”
“Uncle Ray told us that the islands would call us and that we had been chosen. I don’t think he meant just to go to Pearl Harbor. Something is definitely going on that we don’t understand, but I think we’re a part of it, whether we like it or not. Now are you going to take us to Waimanolo, or do I have to rent a car?”
Reluctantly he agreed. We decided it might be prudent to leave Willie and Mary by the pool.
It was a beautiful drive around the south tip of the island.
When we reached Waimanolo, it looked, on the surface, like any of the other small towns on the island. There were hotels, restaurants, and places wanting you to get married on Waimanolo Beach.
“So what’s so different here?” I asked, somewhat disappointed. I wasn’t sure if I was expecting guys in loincloths and women in ti leaf skirts living in grass shacks on the beach.
“On the surface, nothing,” he replied. “But let’s take a little drive into the Koolau Mountains.”
We left the city, and housing tracts turned into rural cottages. Every few miles a sign was posted that read, “Kapu.”
“Did Buddy tell you what that means?” Jimmy asked.
“I believe the translation is ‘forbidden’ and was part of the early Hawaiians’ social structure.”
“Very good. But today it also means, ‘Keep out,’ as in ‘You are forbidden to come on my property.’”
Interspersed with the kapu signs were other signs admonishing us to “Go home!”
I was beginning to get the picture.
We came to a wide spot in the road where a local farmer had set up a fruit and vegetable stand.
Jimmy pulled over, and we hopped out to get a better look at the local flavor—and did we ever!
One huge Hawaiian guy wore a T-shirt that read, “If it’s called tourist season, why can’t we shoot them?”
Whoa!
His buddy, equally large, wore a T-shirt depicting a white guy in a tub of boiling water surrounded by hungry-looking Hawaiians, with the inscription, “Haole— the other white meat.”
I looked at Jimmy. He just rolled his eyes and shrugged as if to say, “I told you so.”
I was about to grab Maggie by the arm and hurry her back to the car, but when we turned, a large, old, weather-worn woman blocked our path.
She leaned forward and whispered, “We know who you are.”
It was a quiet ride back to Honolulu.
CHAPTER 11
We were in the process of packing our bags for the island hop from Oahu to Kauai when I noticed the headline in the Honolulu Star Bulletin.
It read, “Artifacts Slated for Permanent Display in
Bishop Museum Hijacked.”
I dropped what I was doing and dialed Buddy Kalakoa.
“Buddy here.”
“Hi, Buddy. This is Walt. What in the world is going on?”
“Guess you saw the morning paper, huh?”
“Sure did. I thought the artifacts were traveling under guard. What happened?”
“The container carrying the artifacts was on a barge being towed to the harbor by a tug boat. Sometime during the night, thieves boarded the barge, broke into the container, and removed the artifacts.”
“But where was the guard?”
“He was on the tug. Sometimes there is as much as a quarter mile of cable separating the tug from the barge. Those things don’t have brakes, you know. Under the cover of darkness, the thieves must have pulled a small craft behind the barge, effectively blocking the guard’s view, and emptied the container.”
“How did they know which container carried the artifacts? I’ve seen those barges. There may be twenty or more containers on one load.”
“Your guess is as good as mine, but somehow they knew. It was the only container that was opened.”
“Kind of has the earmarks of an inside job, don’t you think?”
“That was our thought. We handpicked everyone who was associated with the exhibit, but in this day and age, sometimes you just don’t know where people’s sympathies lie.”
“So you think the separatists are responsible?”
“That’s our best guess.”
“If that’s true, what will they do with the artifacts?”
“They have maintained from the beginning that the artifacts should never have been removed from the burial cave. They believe that their removal has angered Pele and the only way to regain her favor is to return the artifacts to their resting place and offer sacrifices to appease the transgression.”
“Uh, sacrifices?”
“In the old days, to break a kapu meant instant death. If even the shadow of a commoner fell upon an alii, he was killed. The kapu was everything. My grandfather and uncle died by fire and the ceremonial war club to atone for their transgressions.”
“What about you? Won’t they hold you to blame as well?”
“Of course that’s a possibility, but I feel an obligation to finish what my family has started. Some things are greater than the individual. I must see this through.”
“So you think there may be more sacrifices?”
“Pele has great mana. It will take more than the deaths of two old fools to appease her. The blood of an alii must be spilled before she will rest.”
That’s not what I wanted to hear.
The flight from Honolulu to Kauai takes only about twenty minutes, and we were soon in the concourse of the Lihue airport.
I looked around for another “Williams Party” placard and found it in the hands of a twenty-something Hawaiian guy.
I waved, and he approached.
“Hi, I’m Walt Williams. And don’t tell me, you’re a cousin to Buddy Kalakoa.”
“Yeah, bro, on my mother’s side.”
I had learned that much like our small rural towns in Missouri, everyone in Hawaii seemed to be related to everyone else, either by blood or marriage.
“My name is Sammy, and I’m also a nephew of Uncle Larry. I’ll be taking care of you until your wedding, day after tomorrow.”
Day after tomorrow!
I looked at Maggie and saw the shock in her eyes as well. We had been so absorbed in our vacation that the wedding had kind of sneaked up on us.
“Let’s get you to your hotel. Unpack, get a bite of lunch, and this afternoon we’ll take a trip to the fern grotto.”
The Marriott Resort in Lihue was nothing like the
Sheraton. The monolithic skyscraper on Oahu occupied very little ground space; by contrast, the Marriott covered acres of ground right on the water. The road into the resort, lined with stately palms on each side, was just a harbinger of the elegance that awaited us inside. There were lush garden pools with brightly colored birds and fish, and the halls were lined with sculpture and Hawaiian art.
And that was just the lobby.
We registered and walked to the terrace overlooking the interior grounds.
Wow!
The largest swimming pool I had ever seen was surrounded by lounges, massage tables, waterfalls, spas, and restaurants. We stood in awe as we took in the pool and the beach and ocean beyond.
For once in her life, Mary was at a loss for words.
I thought I heard Willie mumble, “Sumbitch!”
If this is how the other half lives, I could
sure get used to it.
Well, maybe not.
We unpacked and ate lunch in the restaurant by the pool. We were all reluctant to leave, but we had promised Sammy that we would be by the bell desk at one o’clock.
It was a relatively short drive from Lihue north to
Kapa’a and the Waimea River.
Kauai was nothing like Honolulu with its freeways and sprawling city. Everything seemed more rural and small town.
We pulled into the parking lot on the south side of the river, and Sammy pointed to the other shore.
“That’s the Coco Palms over there. That’s where you will be getting married.”
I looked expectantly in the direction he had pointed, and I’m sure my mouth must have fallen open.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.
A high wall surrounded what had once been the resort, and a sign on a locked gate warned, “No admittance! Authorized personnel only!”
Looking beyond the gate, I could see nothing but the tops of palms that had been ravaged by the hurricane and a few ramshackle huts that had been left to deteriorate.
Maggie’s reaction was the same as mine. I could see in her eyes that she was not excited about celebrating the most important day of her life in a ghost town.
Sammy must have seen the look on our faces.
“Hey, bro, not to worry. You’re gonna love it. Uncle Larry has been doing this for years, and nobody’s been unhappy yet.”
I hoped he was right.
The trip up the Waimea River was unremarkable.
We learned cool stuff, such as Kauai is the northern-most of the islands and therefore geologically the oldest. It is the only island with a river, and the river is fed from Mount Wai’ale’ale, the wettest spot on earth, averaging over four hundred and sixty inches of rain a year.
I made mental notes because stuff like that really impresses people at parties.
The grotto itself was beautiful, but for me it turned out to be one of those been-there-done-that kind of things.
There were two old Hawaiian guys on board whose job was to serenade us with island favorites to take our minds off how bored we were as the barge chugged up and down the river.
The thing that saved the afternoon for me was when Sammy told me that one of the old guys, as a young boy, was an extra in the filming of Blue Hawaii and knew Elvis.
I became totally engrossed in his tales of the “old days,” when the Coco Palms was the premier resort in the islands and how Hawaii came to have a special place in the heart of the King.
Before I knew it, we were back at the dock. This chance meeting had made the whole trip worthwhile.
Sammy took us back to the Marriott and before driving off promised us that we would be thrilled with our trip to Waimea Canyon, the Grand Canyon of the Pacific, scheduled for the next day.
It turns out that good old Duke had another restaurant within walking distance of the hotel, so we agreed to freshen up, meet by the pool, and enjoy a leisurely stroll to dinner.
I showered first and had just buttoned my new aloha shirt when the phone rang.
“Hello? This is Walt.”
“Hi, son. We’ve got a problem.”
“Dad! What kind of a problem?”
“Well, the contractor—”
Just then there was a knock at the door.
“Hang on, Dad. Someone’s at the door. I’ll be right back.”
I opened the door, and two very serious-looking Hawaiian policemen stepped into the room.
“Are you Walter Williams?”
“Yes, I am. What can I do for you?”
One of them handed me a cell phone. “This is for you.”
I had no idea what was going on, but I took the phone. “This is Walt Williams. Who’s this?”
I couldn’t believe what I heard next.
“Walt, this is Captain Short. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
Immediately, the thought that crossed my mind was that someone close to me was hurt or dead.
“What … what’s wrong? Is someone hurt?”
“No, nothing like that. I almost wish it were that simple. Walt, there’s a warrant for your arrest. You’re wanted for murder.”
I was speechless.
“Walt, I need you to come home and clear this up.”
“But I’m getting married day after tomorrow,” I stammered.
“I know that and I’m sorry. If you won’t come back voluntarily—that is, if you want to stay and get married—it will take a few days to get extradition papers to Hawaii. I just figured you wouldn’t want to get married with this thing hanging over your head.”
“No, of course not. But what’s this all about? Who was I supposed to have killed?”
“I can’t really talk about that right now. Am I to understand that you are willing to come home without extradition?”
“Well, there’s no point in getting married if I’m going to be dragged away from my honeymoon.”
“I thought you would probably say that, so I have sent an officer to accompany you back to Kansas City. I’m afraid you’ll be under arrest until we get this straightened out. I’m so sorry, Walt.”
I handed the phone back to the officer.
The two Hawaiian guys stepped aside, and a man in a Kansas City police uniform stepped into the room.
Murdock!
Of all the officers in the Kansas City police department, Murdock was the last guy I wanted to see.
For some reason that escapes me to this day, Murdock hates my guts.
He was on my case from my first day on the force and has gone out of his way to give me grief and disparage the City Retiree Action Patrol.
The fact that I was responsible for the arrest of his friend and mentor, Captain Harrington, had only made it worse.
There was no love lost between us.
I could see the hate in his eyes as he held up the handcuffs. “Walter Williams, you are under arrest for murder. Now turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
“Cuffs? Is that really necessary? I’m coming voluntarily.”
“Shut up, old man, and turn around.”
Murdock was reading me my rights when Maggie stepped into the room wrapped in a towel.
“Walt—what?”
“I have no idea what’s going on. Call Ozzie Meacham, and tell him to find out where this creep is taking me and to meet me there. This must be some kind of a horrible mistake. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you can’t leave Willie and Mary here alone. Let Sammy know that the wedding is on hold until we get this straightened out.”
The last thing I heard as Murdock led me away was Dad’s voice booming through the receiver, “Walt! Walt! What the hell’s going on over there?”
I wish I knew.
CHAPTER 12
The red-eye from Honolulu back to Kansas City wasn’t nearly as much fun as the trip over.
If you think sitting in one of those cramped seats for eight hours is tough under normal circumstances, try doing it in handcuffs.
The lavatory was another nightmare.
My experience on previous flights was that I seemed to time my stream just as the plane hit an air pocket. After a few episodes of misdirection, I learned to steady myself using one hand on the wall and the other for guidance.
You can’t do that with your wrists shackled together.
I suspect that the lady who came in after me wasn’t too thrilled.
I tried to question Murdock as to the details of my incarceration, but he refused to discuss anything about the case. He said his job was to simply bring me in.
From the airport, I was taken directly to the precinct and placed in a holding room. As I stared at the four blank walls, I reflected on how my life had so abruptly changed. In just over a week, I had gone from celebrated head of the City Retiree Action Patrol to common criminal with two arrests a ha
lf a world apart.
I had just started my pity party when I heard a knock, and Captain Short and Ozzie Meacham entered the room.
Fortunately, I have had very few occasions in my life to use the services of an attorney.
Ozzie Meacham was the attorney on retainer for my former employer, City Wide Realty. In my thirty years there, I had come to know Ozzie and had taken his counsel on a couple of particularly sticky real estate deals.
I was relieved to see them both. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?”
Ozzie spoke first. “Before we get into that, I know that you and Captain Short are friends, but this is different. You’re on opposite sides of the fence, and you might want to think about talking with me privately.”
I looked at Shorty. “Nope, I’ve got nothing to hide.
I know I can trust the captain, and he will do whatever he can to help me. Now will somebody please tell me why I’m locked up?”
“It’s your building,” the captain said. “You hired a contractor to remodel while you were away. He was tearing down walls between your two units, and they found a body enclosed between the studs.”
“A body?”
“Well, actually a skeleton, or at least most of a skeleton. They’re still poking around trying to find all the pieces.”
“And you think I put it there?”
“Of course I don’t, Walt, but there is a lot of evidence pointing in your direction.”
“Such as?”
“How long have you owned the building?”
“Going on thirty years. So what?”
“So these bones are old—really old. Possibly placed there during the early days of your ownership. If so, you would be the only person who could have known about the construction necessary to conceal the body.”
“But I haven’t done anything to the building other than carpet and paint.”
“At this point, I guess it’s just your word on that.”
“And how do they know how old the bones are?
What if they were put there before I bought the building? I thought they had tests for that stuff.”
[Lady Justice 03] - Lady Justice Gets Lei'd Page 11
