1 Murder on Moloka'i

by Chip Hughes

  “Outside!” Alika pointed on the horizon to an ominous swell–a rogue wave–more than twice the size of any we’d seen. This maverick was deep forest green and peaking fast. Ho, brah!

  We paddled like scared gremmies. Arms throbbing. Adrenaline pumping. The wave’s towering face was nearly vertical when we got there. Too late to drop in. Way too late. With one last gasp I paddled straight up over the top.

  “Swoosh!” went the curling lip, blowing back a white gauzy spray that hit me like hard rain. “Boom!” The wave exploded. Lucky I wasn’t sucked over the falls, I consoled myself. Then I looked around. Where’s Alika? He was gone. Had he eaten it and got washed into the reef? This could be bad. Very bad.

  Then in the distance near shore I saw the tiny figure of a surfer ripping on the very rogue wave that had almost pummeled me. Alika. Impossible!

  “You miss one good wave, brah,” my cousin said as he paddled back–stoked–into the lineup. When I asked him how he caught it, he patted me on the back and simply said: “Show you bumbye.” In other words, soon enough.

  Between sets later that afternoon we sat on our boards contemplating a thousand tiny sunbeams on the dappled sea. My eyes got so accustomed to these dancing lights that the ocean surrounding them began to look black as midnight. An optical illusion, no doubt. But the apparent blackness of the sea got me thinking. Suddenly I had a strong premonition about the Moloka‘i case.

  Gazing across the inky water at a coconut palm on shore, I imagined one of its nuts falling and spewing sweet liquor on the sand.

  Like that fallen coconut, this case was about to crack wide open.

  XI: Chapter Thirty-Two: Wrap Up

  After Kai visits Adrienne in hospital on the last page of the book, he heads for Waikīkī and goes surfing—feeling restored, balanced, and free. In earlier drafts, the ending wrapped up two additional strands in the novel: The case of deadbeat dad, Leonard Souza, and Kai’s long distance relationship with Niki. Not to mention one last call (and one last joke) from his offbeat attorney friend, Tommy Woo. This wrap up, comprising about two pages in draft, was condensed into one paragraph in the published book. This is another example of sacrificing details of Kai’s life and work for the sake of a fast-moving read.

  (cut from)

  thirty-five

  Later that Friday morning I drove to my Maunakea Street office and called Mrs. Souza.

  First, she gave me the bad news: Her deadbeat ex-husband was up to his old tricks–threatening her by phone and loitering on her property, despite a restraining order. Though the last person on earth I felt like confronting again was Leonard Souza– especially brandishing his gleaming serrated blade–I told her I would be right over.

  Then Mrs. Souza gave me the good news: My presence was not required. She had called the police several times. Finally they arrested her ex for violating the restraining order.

  With the scourge of Leonard Souza off my hands, I headed back to the Waikīkī Edgewater with one thing on my mind.

  Go surf, brah!

  Inside my apartment the red light on my answering machine blinked. Whoever the caller was I didn’t want to know. I slipped on my board shorts, peeked under the bandage on my tender shoulder, then headed out the door.

  When I stepped into the hall and was about to lock up, curiosity got the better of me. What the heck? I walked back inside and pushed the blinking red light. Two messages:

  “Hey, Kai,” said the wry, sardonic voice, “did you hear the one about the Chinese, Filipino, and Hawaiian astronauts?” Tommy Woo.

  “You told me that one already, Tommy,” I thought aloud.

  After a punch line still too politically incorrect to repeat, Tommy said: “Seriously, how about spaghetti this Monday– same old place?”

  Yes, dinner with Tommy. Long overdue. I would call him back later.

  The second message went like this:

  “Well, hello there …,” said the coy and sexy voice. “Guess who?”

  It was Niki–my California girl.

  “Good news!” She sounded excited. “My request to change flight bases from L.A. to Honolulu was approved ….” A pause for effect. “Isn’t that great!”

  Niki’s prepared little speech went on. Fun-fun-fun. I peered at the STOP button on the answering machine that if pushed would kill the message. Then I wondered: What happened to her airline pilot? Had Captain Jacoby flown the coop? Had he returned to a wife and kids in some inland suburb far from Marina Del Rey?

  “Anyway …,” Niki hesitated, sounding slightly guilty, “we’ve really got to talk. Sorry I’ve been so slow in returning your calls. It’s these damn flights to Indianapolis ….”

  I punched STOP. Niki’s voice cut off.

  Within minutes I was paddling out to the fun little breakers at Canoes. My left shoulder throbbed when I stroked and the first splash of salt water stung. Soon the frothing soup from an inside set tore off the bandage. The sun streamed down on the open wound. By the time I had paddled outside to the lineup, my shoulder felt numb. No fear. No pain.

  Sitting on my longboard waiting for a good set to roll in, my mind roamed. I wondered what I would say to Niki. Actually, I knew what I would say to her. How to say it was the question.

  Then I thought about the hui. Someday I would no doubt hear again from Manny Lee, if not from his moke pals. But not right away. The hui, and Manny especially, was in hiding. Everyone had crawled under a bush, trying to avoid the media and the Feds.

  And I had gone surfing–not to recollect this bizarre case like Sherlock Holmes puffing on his pipe–but to restore the balance in my life. After all, I am the surfing detective. I had been a detective, only, for too long.

  It was high time to catch a wave.

  XII: Epilogue

  In the following epilogue that was deleted from the published book, Kai explains the meaning of the figurines he found on the Kalaupapa trail in chapter five and he recounts his somewhat melancholy last days with Adrienne — and how her image and voice still haunt him. The epilogue may have disappeared because it effectively ends the relationship between the PI and his client, whereas the published version leaves open the possibility of them continuing to see each other.

  Epilogue

  Two last points require brief explanation to close the case:

  First: If you are still wondering about those tiny religious figurines by switchback 16 on the Kalaupapa trail, Sara’s lovesick ex-husband, J. Gregory Parke, repeatedly denied putting them there. So did Rush McTower, who surprisingly returned my call. On a hunch I phoned Johnny Kaluna on Moloka‘i and asked if he’d seen anyone hiking down the trail to tend the shrine. There was a long silence. Then the paniolo confessed. Kaluna himself had placed the figurines, rosary beads, and maile lei there. For Sara or his mule, he didn’t say. The red roses, he claimed, he knew nothing about. They remain a mystery.

  Second: My client remained in the islands nearly a month after her release. Adrienne gave me a bonus for uncovering the hui conspiracy behind her sister’s accidental death. On that bonus we spent three long weekends together on Maui, Kaua‘i, and, her favorite, Moloka‘i. Though she thoroughly enjoyed her tropical vacation, as she called it, Adrienne concluded she would always be only a sojourner in the islands. She was a New Englander through and through. Boston was her home.

  By the time she left in early November I was impossibly hung on her. We kept in touch for a while by phone and email. But as each month passed, we talked less. The five thousand miles and six time zones that separated us eventually took their toll.

  I still half expect her to knock on my office door one dewy, fragrant morning–glacier eyes beaming–with some new bizarre case for me to solve. Once I thought I heard her voice calling to me through the door.

  But I was only dreaming.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chip Hughes earned a Ph.D. in English at Indiana University and taught American literature, film, writing, and popular fiction at the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa. H
e left the university in 2008 to write full time. His non-fiction publications include Beyond The Red Pony: A Reader’s Companion to Steinbeck’s Complete Short Stories–also translated into Japanese; John Steinbeck: A Study of the Short Fiction; and numerous essays and reviews.

  An active member of the Private Eye Writers of America, Chip launched the Surfing Detective mystery series in 2004 with Murder on Moloka‘i. The second book, Wipeout!, followed in 2007. The third, Kula, in 2011. Other titles, in various stages of development, include Murder at Volcano House, Barking Sands, and The Maui Masseuse. The series has been optioned for television. More at http://surfingdetective.com.

  Chip lives in Windward O‘ahu with his wife and two retrievers. He surfs when time allows.