by Mary Deal
Across Hawaii, families used the ohana house for relatives and visitors. Some homeowners rented out the cottages for extra income. The first owners of Sara's property had stripped the rear yard of all trees and shrubs in order to have clear visual access to the valley and the river gorge below. Some greenery had been added back with flower beds around both structures, and a tall stand of dangling red Heliconia Rostrata next to the cottage.
Sara's property, with Birdie on the north side and the peculiar young man on the south, was situated on the east side of the cul-de-sac end that backed up to a picturesque upper leg of the Wailua River and canyon. Sara had also chosen the Wailua subdivision because the real estate agent had said it was one of the safest crime areas on the island. When Birdie told her about the random break-ins in the Homesteads areas and the Houselots at Kinipopo along the beach, Sara had to wonder how safe. Yet, she would enjoy this lovely home despite what may or may not happen in the somewhat isolated area.
Maleko had a six-foot-tall black lava rock wall built completely around his property, except across the steep cliff edge at the back. Whoever put up his wall did a haphazard job and left irregular gobs of cement sticking out from between the rocks. The previous owners of Sara's home had planted Thunbergia vines which thickly covered the mess and put out profusions of large blue blooms. The color of the blooms actually enhanced the light blue and white of her home exterior. Yet, the decorator in her planned to refurbish. Blue and white, inside and out, was too monotonous.
While all the homes on the street were fairly new, manicured, and spoke well of the neighborhood, inside Maleko's rock fence was a hovel. His dad once owned much of the land in the area that bordered the canyon rim. Back then the acreage consisted of pineapple fields which old man Aka eventually sold off to a developer who subdivided and built homes.
Maleko's house was the original farmhouse, a small plantation-type home that had been added onto with three additional rooms attached in the back. In the middle of newer homes with modern architecture sat Maleko's old single-walled wooden structure. It had the potential of adding a bit of old world charm to the neighborhood. However, the tropical climate of wind, rain and strong UV rays caused wide areas of peeling paint and missing roof shingles. Sara pictured what the house would look like if it could be restored.
From her back yard, Sara could see black mold spreading on the underside of the eaves and down the exterior. That house desperately needed to be pressure-washed or the thick layers of mold would soon rot the wood.
The back of his lot sloped more steeply toward the cliff edge. While all the neighborhood homes had garage doors, Maleko's driveway angled steeply downward and he had no garage. When Mr. Aka owned the house, Birdie had learned he parked out front because they lived in the middle of a crop field.
Recently, Maleko had pitched a tented awning inside the front yard which he used for a garage. Still, his lot might have the best views of any. The add-on portion at the rear of the house sat high up on post supports where the ground sloped downward beneath. The neighbors were thankful Maleko put up the type of wall that they couldn't see through. Whatever junk a person could accumulate he had, and stored it along the rock walls and under the house. An old broken-down pickup, rusting car parts, lawn mowers, boxes of who knew what and other such clutter littered the lot.
The Thunbergia vines from Sara's property had spread over the wall, their ends trailing down into Maleko's garbage. Yet, the fragile blooms couldn't distract from the unsightly junkyard. He didn't maintain his yard, but let the tall weeds and Buffalo grass grow where they would and occasionally whacked them down with a machete. Sara, too, was thankful to have the wall between them.
In the distance, magnificent waterfalls poured ribbons of rainwater down from Mt. Wai'ale'ale, the wettest spot on earth, averaging four hundred twenty-six inches per year since 1912. Numerous streams rushing through the forests eventually met up and formed the Wailua River which ran through the bottom of the deep gorge behind their homes; the same river that Birdie seemed to talk a lot about.
Lower down, where it dumped into the sea, the Wailua River was the only navigable river in all of the Hawaiian Islands. However, with a heavy rain, the river flow rages with trees and shrubs and other forest debris floating down from the hills and forests, also largemouth and smallmouth bass and peacock bass dump into the sea. Freshwater fish invited ever-hungry sharks into the murky water that hugged the beach, made red and opaque by Kauai's iron-rich red soil also being washed down. During the wet season, with the river swollen, was not a good time to swim there.
Birdie reported that storms with lightning and thunder that occasionally rolled over the island were thought by some to be better than a July 4th celebration. However, storms did not stop the idiocy of surfers who apathetically waited for big waves that took them into potentially dangerous waters. Rescue workers were kept busy.
Chapter 9
In the opposite direction, following Kuamo'o Road inland and west past the subdivision, a good walking clip led to the Keahua Arboretum with hiking and horse trails offering spectacular views of mountainous terrain.
The Arboretum, like the forest, contained magnificent specimen trees, tropical flowers, and picnic pavilions with play areas. In order to get to the larger rear parking lot, cars traversed a ground level concrete bridge over which a stream constantly flowed. Well past the Arboretum, deep in a forested valley, Kevin Costner filmed scenes from his movie Dragonfly. The forest was made thick and dense by the overgrowth of Hau trees, a clambering tree of the Hibiscus family. With thickets like that, a person could easily wander from the Arboretum and into the forest and become lost. Even though Birdie made everything sound mysterious or dangerous, Sara looked forward to an Arboretum visit.
Birdie was like a walking library. “I'm surprised that kid stayed in the house after his parents moved.” She was referring to Maleko.
The smell of rain and trade winds picking up forecast a shower quickly approaching. Sara moved her chair closer to the wall. “You drink rain in your coffee?”
“You'll get used to it.” Birdie hadn't moved her chair but placed a hand over her mug. “It's the downpours you have to watch for.”
“They're bad?”
“I have nothing against the rain.” She gestured toward her healthy rear yard. “We have power outages though. In a bad rain, the power can go off and on three or four times a day.”
“What if you're baking, or something like that? I'd never had an electric stove till I refurbished my Victorian. Haven't used it yet.”
“You start over, I suppose. Folks have generators but that won't save your cake in the oven if you've got an electric stove.” Evidently Birdie didn't bake or had a gas range because power outages didn't seem to bother her. “This is a small island. Sometimes someone will smash into a power pole or construction guys accidently cut a line.” She shrugged. “If it's nearby, the power will go out then too.” A light sprinkling passed over. Birdie hadn't moved her chair.
Humidity was high and the height of hurricane season loomed. Sara mentally reminded herself that her house needed to be made ready in order to sustain as little damage as possible should disaster strike in the form of another freak weather system. The homes in their subdivision were newer, with roofs and walls secured with hurricane clips, but she couldn't be too careful.
A thought flickered through her mind about the shanty where she grew up. When gusty winds blew and the house creaked and leaned, her family held their breaths hoping the shack wouldn't fall over. She made a mental note to have the clips inspected. “Tell me more about Maleko's family.”
“Maleko moved back in when he was old enough. His parents had first rented out the house after moving to Honolulu.” She took a sip of coffee. “Poor little Leia.”
When Birdie first told her about Leia's case, Sara's curiosity had peaked. Finding missing persons was, after all, to what she and Huxley had dedicated their lives. Now that she was back from Vietnam, she intended to
go through the local library records and learn as much as she could about the child's case. “There's an answer for everything, Birdie.” She would also consult with Thanh to learn as much as she could from a policeman's point of view.
“She had Down syndrome.” Birdie waited momentarily, watching Sara's reaction. “Might have gotten disoriented, but if someone did something to her and then hid her body, what's left of her after all these years may never be found.”
Down syndrome wouldn't prevent a child from turning to others for help if feeling lost. Others would likely stop and help if seeing such a child walking alone and looking confused. Sara sensed something else happened. Her cell phone rang.
“I'm off to Washington.” Huxley sounded rushed, seemed totally detracted. “I may not be able to call for a while due to the time zone differences.” Other sounds came through the phone. He was at an airport somewhere.
“I understand.” She really did. Huxley was a man who raced around most days attending to meetings and other MIA agenda. She knew him well. When ready for rest, he collapsed into bed almost asleep before his head hit the pillow. Yet, being apart from him was like missing an arm. They well knew their busy lives would fluctuate between separation and the sweet moments of togetherness. They chatted for a moment before a loud call from the airport PA system came through again.
“I've got to make a dash for my plane. Bye.” Then the call disconnected, the lights on the cell phone going out.
After she hung up, Sara sat quietly remembering the feeling of Huxley's desperation to find his brother. Birdie sat quietly observing what surely were changing emotions showing on her face.
Another light sprinkling of rain passed and the concrete walkway was already drying. Birdie finished her coffee and pulled on her gloves, a sign she intended to go back to her flower beds. “Hey, make sure Maleko doesn't lay down any more of those rat pellets, would you?”
“Rat poison?”
“Rats find their way up the canyon wall from the river.”
“Don't the neighborhood cats take care of them?”
“Maleko claims Ka'imi scares the cats away, complaining there's nothing to control the pests.” She yanked hard at her gloves which seemed like expressing a bit of hidden anger. “Been throwing out different poison crap in your yard ever since I got Ka'imi.”
“That's ludicrous.” Sara picked up both mugs, preparing to leave. “We can't possibly have that many rats.” She hadn't seen evidence of any when she initially inspected the property with the appraiser.
“Well, Maleko is just what his name implies. Warlike. He'll disagree with you.” She stood before a small cabinet and picked up several additional garden tools. “Listen, you can't take Ka'imi into your yard till you're sure there are no pellets around. You oughta make Maleko pick up every last one of them. If dogs eat that stuff, it'll make their brains explode.”
Ka'imi jumped up fast, as if never afflicted with arthritis. She growled and began barking toward the rock wall. She paced back and forth.
Sara stood and looked in the direction of her house where Ka'imi directed her attention. “What's that about?”
Birdie snatched at Ka'imi's harness, gave it a jerk, and pointed at the ground. Ka'imi quieted but stood alert. Birdie put a gloved finger over her lips, then motioned with the tools for Sara to follow. She whispered behind her hand. “It's Maleko, I'll betcha.” They peered quietly over the rock wall. There was Maleko throwing out more pellets into Sara's flower beds. “Well, I'll be damned!”
“Aloha, Maleko!” Sara yelled it loud enough to get his attention. “You don't need to do that.”
Maleko looked left and right, turned and finally noticed them but didn't look straight at them. “The rain make disappear.” His voice was deep and clear. “Throw more.”
“I don't want you using those.” Sara headed toward the front gate. “Wait till I get there.”
Birdie followed but left Ka'imi in her yard. Soon her whining stopped.
Maleko wore floral board shorts, a ragged and faded tee shirt and old rubber flip-flops worn flat under his weight. His Hawaiian ancestry and the tropic sun gave him gorgeous bronze skin. Ancestral genes contributed to his magnificent height. He was in great shape, an indication of possibly much time working out. Yet, something didn't come together in her mind. If he was a little loony, what gave him the smarts to keep his body exceptionally trim and healthy? He was big and strong for his youthful early twenties. Yet, he stood still as if he didn't know how to move and seemed obviously clumsy. His long messy straight black hair gleamed in the morning sunlight.
Maleko threw the handful of pellets back into the bag, sat the bag on ground and produced a rag to wipe his palms. He did not look at them directly when they approached. “Got many rat.”
“If I have rats, I'll take care of the problem.” Sara spoke softly in a friendly way. “Don't throw these in my yard, please. These pellets could kill the neighborhood animals and I don't have a fence across the front of my property to keep them out.”
He stared at the flower beds then looked up seeming a little disgruntled. His upper lip twitched. “Okay, I no throw. You keep rat!” He grabbed up his bag of pellets and headed quickly out of the yard with his flip-flops slapping at his heels. Once on the street, he threw back a glance that could make the tropics freeze over.
Birdie was holding her breath. She finally exhaled. “Seems he has trouble looking a person straight in the eyes.”
“Maybe he's shy.” Sara was willing to give anyone the benefit of a doubt, not being one to judge people either. Still, his actions were questionable, curious at best.
“Shy?” Birdie smirked. “That kid's got something to hide. That's why he can't look at you straight.” She turned to leave. “You watch out for him. That all I gotta say.”
Chapter 10
Birdie had warned that the trail to the howling cliffs was steep. The Kahawai trail led into the valley and was mostly flat. Take the Mauna trail, she had said. That was the steep one. Once at the plateau on the Mauna, it would be a great place to exercise pets, not to mention the climb being aerobic for humans too. Then there were the spectacular views over a wide lush canyon.
The fresh smell of the forest air in the Arboretum was invigorating. Sara was glad to have popped into a local surf shop to purchase more cotton tee shirts. The fabric breathed much better than the designer blouses she brought from the mainland. The blouses never stayed crisp in the heat and humidity. She always reminded herself about things she should have known and then also reminded herself not to be so neurotic. Cotton tees were the uniform of the day in the humid tropical climate, and allowed the body to breathe. “How did I forget?” Living in the Caribbean and then in the heat of the Sacramento River Delta should have educated her about clothing for Hawaii's climate.
People milled about or sat at tables in pavilions or in lawn chairs having lunch or a beverage while soaking up the sun. A man lay sprawled on the ground napping, a cap covering his face. A group of young guys kicked around a soccer ball in an open field. What a great place for an afternoon get-away.
Sara poured a plastic bowl full of water from the bottle she carried in her backpack and encouraged Ka'imi to drink her fill. Like the health hazard of the leeches in Vietnam streams, Sara had read that the freshwater streams of Kauai could be tainted with potentially dangerous leptospirosis bacteria that washed down from the Alakai Swamp atop Mt. Wai'ale'ale.
She would have to assure that Ka'imi didn't drink from the stream. She wondered whether Ka'imi could go on. She showed no signs of weariness but a rest here would be good for her anyway. She was faithful, not always needing attention and always alert when given instructions. It must have been her forensic training. Sara lowered herself to sit beside her in the grass and Ka'imi laid her head on her lap looking up at her with big inquisitive eyes.
With expansive grounds for an arboretum, tropical trees of every kind had found their way out of the dense forest and into the sunshine in the clearing on
their own. Bushes and shrubs offered glorious shows of blossoms. A large stand of white hibiscus sat farther back disguising a maintenance shack. The magnificent Mt. Wai'ale'ale set a backdrop. The Arboretum was a nature lover's delight. It was a great time of year to be there since the plumeria were still blossoming with fragrance permeating the air.
Nature's serenity was broken by people shouting on the other side of the stream. Several people ran in different directions. A man hurriedly picked his way through some brush.
A woman yelled frantically. “Someone follow the stream.” She darted out of the grassy area, up the rise and into a picnic area.
“Not here.” Another person had checked between parked cars.
Ka'imi's ears perked. She jumped to alert and stood watching. Suddenly, she pulled on her leash as if wanting to go toward the voices. She whined and pulled.
Sara decided to cross the stream and see what was happening. She quickly removed her sneakers and socks and then waded across the water bridge with Ka'imi splashing along beside her. On the other side, as she struggled to slip her wet feet into her socks, Ka'imi broke loose, dragging her leash, and ran to a couple of distraught people. That dog loping across the grassy field was a sight she would never forget. Ka'imi needed to go back to work. Sara wiped her feet with the socks and put the shoes on without them.
A woman looking much worried caught her attention when Sara caught up and grabbed Ka'imi's leash. “A little boy is missing. He was playing soccer and sat down over there for a while.” She pointed to the far end of the clearing. “When we looked for him he was gone.”
“Show me where he sat.”
At the spot where the boy was last seen, Sara allowed Ka'imi to sniff around the area. “Find, girl.”
Ka'imi sniffed a while longer, tracing in circles and then led Sara out toward the road leading into the forest. Sara let out the leash line. Visitors and the parents followed. Ka'imi kept a steady pace, only once slowing to sniff around some bushes before continuing on. The road had a slight incline and was muddy and slippery. Some of the others stopped and waited. The parents continued calling the boy's name. Ka'imi stopped. Her ears perked. Then she jumped forward at a faster clip. Soon a frightened voice was heard responding from a distance. Ka'imi lurched. Again, Sara ran to keep up. Ka'imi had led them to the missing boy.
