Mana

by John A. Broussard

  “Didn’t you get the patrolman’s report, Captain?” Millie asked.

  “Sure, but that’s just bare bones, and your report wasn’t much different.”

  Lehua pulled a zabuton up next to the chair Millie had flopped into. They looked at each other. Then Millie, rather than trying to answer the question, asked, “What did the other eyewitnesses say?”

  “Take your pick. Some of them said the car exploded while it was roaring up Campus Way. One student said she saw the driver act like he’d pulled the pin in a hand grenade. A couple of other students said the car hit a rock in the road and spun out of control. Only there’s no sign any rock was there and no indication there were any explosives in the car. A faculty member claims he saw you shoot at the car, and your bullet hit the gas tank. Which is quite a stunt since the tank’s in the rear. One eyewitness says a wheel came off. That would be a great explanation, except that all the wheels are still on what’s left of the car. And none of the stories explain how the driver ended up brushing his teeth with the front bumper. So what’s your version?”

  “It did explode, Sam. That’s about all I’m sure of. I did get off one shot at it, but I can’t see how that could have had anything to do with what happened.”

  Silva’s eyes shifted to Lehua.

  “That’s right, Sam. It just broke into flames right in front of our eyes.”

  “Any idea how the fire could have driven the block through the front end and into the back seat, or the steering wheel shaft through the driver’s neck?”

  Lehua winced. Millie shook her head. The Captain kept pressing them for more explanations, but neither of the women would elaborate further on what they had already said.

  Silva took a long swig from the bottle. To Lehua he said, “You may be interested in knowing we tied a tag to the acid thrower’s toe this afternoon. I think he died still more afraid of Number One than he was of dying.” Then, to Millie, he continued, “I’m going to have a car check by every half hour, though it’s beginning to seem like a waste of time.

  “According to the books, I should be calling in the National Guard to throw a cordon around this building. Anyhow,” he nodded toward the picture of the black cat on the wall opposite, “stick that in the window if you need help—not that it seems like you need any.” With that, he drained the bottle, put the empty carefully down on the coffee table, edged forward on the couch, braced his hands on it and heaved himself upwards.

  As he started out the door he turned and said, “We’re down to one last slab in the morgue, Lehua. Tell whoever’s in charge to ease up.” Tilting back his head and taking in a deep breath through his nose, he added, “Enjoy the soup.”

  The door had barely closed behind the departing Captain before Millie and Lehua broke into peals of conspiratorial laughter. “Well,” Lehua asked, “why didn’t you level with him?”

  Millie’s laughter stopped abruptly. “I don’t mind being crazy. I just don’t want the Captain to find out I am.”

  * * *

  Lehua rated the meal as superb. Millie called it only fair. Mopping up the last of her soup with a piece of the coarse white bread Millie had made, Lehua sighed and said, “That oven has never had bread baked in it before. Now I’m afraid it will never have any baked in it again.”

  “It’s easy to make bread, and it’s never really disappointing. Sometimes it doesn’t rise, and sometimes it looks like it’s going to explode, but it’s always passable, and always better than that white cardboard you get in the stores.”

  Neither of the women was in the mood for watching television. Instead, they began to talk about Kona, about the changes that had happened to the Village over the years, about their mutual acquaintances, about the high school they had attended which—strangely enough—sounded much the same, though twelve years had intervened between their respective graduations. Lehua asked her friend if she ever regretted her choice of occupations, and Millie assured her it was everything she had expected.

  “Sure, there are bad days, but there are plenty of good ones to make up for them. Besides, Captain Silva’s great to work with. What about reporting? You ever have any regrets?”

  Lehua gave a weak smile. “Not until recently. I guess I can’t blame what’s happening on my job. At least I can’t blame all of it on the job. Madame Pele’s the big culprit for having uncovered that tube, and Carlo’s got to take some of the credit for what’s happened to me.”

  “Carlo?”

  “Carlo Carlton. He’s the one who discovered the cave. He runs a charter boat out of Hilo; a really nice guy who had a pretty checkered career before he came to the Big Island.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Carlo’s a Black. An educated Black, unfortunately, as he says. He graduated near the top of his class at Chicago in Business Administration. The country went into a recession just as he went out looking for a job. He says affirmative action doesn’t mean a thing when no one’s hiring. So he bummed around for awhile, pumped gas, bagged groceries, got more and more discouraged, did drugs and slipped into small-time racketeering. With his background, he was soon keeping the books and moving up into the big time.

  “About then he came to Hawai’i on vacation, liked it so much he figured he’d stay, and began to live high off the hog—which meant getting into the rackets here. He bought himself a beautiful home, a couple of fancy cars, a nice boat. Then things began to unravel. He never did tell Bill or me exactly what happened, but his wife left him and took their young daughter with her.

  “He had a falling out with the mob over in Honolulu. Somehow, he managed to salvage the boat out of the rubble, came over here with it, and lived on it before deciding to try his hand at charter services. That’s how we met him. He’s a natural-born sailor. He says he’d much rather be making a bare living doing what he’s doing than a fortune in the rackets.”

  “Has he helped you much with your current series?”

  Lehua was silent for a moment. “Some, though I think he knows more about what’s going on than he’s told me. On the other hand, most of his contact with the underworld was over on Oahu.”

  “Are you any closer to finding out who Number One is?

  Lehua shook her head. “The only thing I know for sure is he has everyone he comes in contact with completely intimidated. You heard what Sam said about the acid thrower. Well, I keep running into the same stone wall every time I turn around. The closer I get to the top, the tighter the lips are sealed.”

  The two of them gave a start as the phone jangled. Millie pressed the portable to her ear, and Lehua answered on the main phone. Sam’s booming voice came over the earpiece. “Just checking before I hit the hay. Station says you haven’t had any calls. Anything else stirring?”

  Lehua glanced over at her companion who had walked into the living room carrying the portable phone. Millie picked up the conversation. “No. It’s been as quiet as a morgue…like before the Tong got on Lehua’s case.”

  “OK. Try to keep it that way. I’ve left word to be notified if anything comes up. Have a good night’s sleep. How was the bean soup, by the way?”

  Lehua grinned at Millie and said, “Absolutely super. I think I’ll trade my Chinese partner in for a Portuguese cook.”

  Sam’s answering grunt was followed by, “You could do worse.”

  * * *

  The night was uneventful. After one last check of the locks on the doors and windows, Millie and Lehua had made up the daybed, lounged around until almost midnight and finally turned in. Even then, before going to sleep, Lehua had called out from her bedroom to Millie, who had just turned off the floor lamp, “Remember the pajama parties?”

  Millie laughed. “The best part of them were the horror stories we used to tell and the fun it was being scared, but knowing it was all make-believe.”

  “Wouldn’t it be nice if this were all make-believe?”

  “I’m not really sure it isn’t.”

  * * *

  Breakfast included o
versized slices of toasted home-made bread loaded down with guava-pineapple jam. “I haven’t eaten this well since I left home,” Lehua said.

  “Wait until tonight. I’ve got big plans for supper. Speaking of plans, what do you have on for the day?”

  “I’m not sure, except I wouldn’t be able to stay in the apartment all day. I’d get cabin fever, for sure. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to check in with Cy. I don’t want him to forget I’m still working for the paper. Maybe they’ve got my office back in shape so I’ll be able to do some work there.”

  “That’s fine with me. We can do some heavy grocery shopping on the way back. Wait until I make up a list.”

  As they emerged from the apartment, a patrol car slowly rolled by. The officer at the wheel gave a shaka sign and the two women gave answering waves. “Let’s walk,” Lehua said. “I could stand some exercise after being cooped up so much.”

  Millie looked dubious, then said, “I guess it’s six of one and a half dozen of the other. You aren’t going to be much safer in a car than on the sidewalk if someone’s out here with a high-powered rifle.”

  “You mean, he isn’t going to be much safer.”

  “I hope that’s what I mean.”

  The two of them were deep in their own thoughts as they crossed through the civic park. Lehua didn’t snap back to reality until she heard the youngster’s voice. “Hey, lady, let’s see you do that again.”

  The young Hawaiian who had spoken lofted the ball in her direction. This time, she didn’t even get to raise a hand. The ball stopped in mid air, slammed down on the tarmac, went into a high, high bounce, arced toward the basket and repeated its previous performance by dropping through without touching the hoop. Lehua and Millie stepped up their pace and headed off the court.

  The young basketball players simply stared in awe after them, their voices raised in wonder. “Did you see that?” “She never even touched it.” “It went in on a bounce.” “Wow!”

  Millie said, “The last time I felt like this was when I dropped acid in college. Even so, I feel more out of it now than I did back then.”

  * * *

  The receptionist held the receiver out to Lehua as she came through the door. “For you. Want to take it here?”

  “Sure,” she replied, accepting the instrument. “Hello.”

  “Hi. This is Carlo. You OK?”

  “Well yeah, Carlo. Why are you asking?”

  “I just heard about that acid throwing.”

  “I lucked out.”

  “From the way the story reads, it sure sounds as though you did. That’s what I’m calling you about. You’ve probably guessed I know more about that crowd than I’ve let on. Well, I happen to know one hell of a lot more. Now that they’re starting to play rough, I’m going to pass the information along to you, backed with some proof I have locked away in a safe on the Angela.”

  “Hey; great! Want me to come over and pick it up?”

  “Uh-uh. I’ve got to take some tourists out in a few minutes, but I should be back by one. I’ll pick up the stuff and come over the Saddle Road. Expect me about three, three-thirty. You going to be at the office?”

  “No. I’ll be home by then, and I’ll be there all evening. I’m under police protection, and my protector happens to be a first class cook.” Lehua looked over inquiringly at Millie who was leaning on the receptionist’s counter, reading the freshly-printed edition of the Kona News. She nodded her head, and Lehua relayed the invitation to Carlo.

  “I’ve never had a cop cook a meal for me before,” he said. “I’m looking forward to it. Hey! By the way. I’ve got some bad news for Bill.”

  “What is it?” Lehua’s voice turned anxious.

  “Madame Pele took back her gift. Another lava flow poured in right over the entrance to that cave.”

  Lehua wasn’t sure whether she was disappointed or relieved at the sealing of the lava tube that had been both the source of her current problems and her salvation.

  After hanging up, she said, “We’d better buy plenty of groceries. He’s a big guy with a healthy appetite.”

  “There’s nothing a cook likes better than someone with a healthy appetite.”

  * * *

  Cy pulled off his bifocals and rubbed his eyes. “The old-timers are telling me this is the most excitement they’ve seen at the Kona News since the ‘60 tsunami washed into the front office of the old building. You’re stirring up more than killers, Lehua. The governor called and says she’s appointing a commission to look into organized crime in general and the Angel Tong in particular. You’re her number one appointment. She says she’ll send you a formal invitation by tomorrow at the latest. I’ve also heard from the attorney general. He’s calling a grand jury.”

  Lehua looked startled. “You mean he has names?”

  “Not on the Big Island, but he does have some for Oahu. He figures he can expand the jury’s functions to encompass what you’ve uncovered. He thinks there’s a close tie-in between the gang here and some of the shenanigans going on over there.”

  “It sounds to me like he’s just going on a fishing expedition.”

  Cy grinned. “What else would you expect from a consummate politician? He has his eye on a senate seat. I’m sure he figures if there’s something here, he’ll get more than his share of publicity. He’s not letting the grass grow under his feet, either. He’s coming over this afternoon and wants to talk to you. He probably figures that will be an excuse for a photo opportunity and maybe a front-page story detailing his concern about organized crime.”

  Lehua made a face. “Well, whatever his motives, it does seem things are moving.”

  “They are, for sure. The FBI is becoming involved, because they have something similar going on in LA, and they think there may be a connection. By the way, your office is back together again.”

  “So soon? I thought I’d have a piece of plywood over that broken window for at least a week. Since when do repairs in Hawai’i take place in one day?”

  Cy’s grin came back. “Anyone as special as you needs special treatment. I promised Aloha Glass free advertising and a special position if they’d get out here stat. They did.”

  “Well, I guess I’ve finally figured out how to get clean windows in my office. Next time they get dirty, I’ll just smash them.”

  * * *

  “Wow!” Millie said as she surveyed the view. “Better come over and see this. This glass will never be as clean again.”

  Lehua joined her and looked out over Kailua Bay. The sea wall had its usual scattering of fishermen and a crowd of children, joined by a few adults, walking its length. Tourists filled the street and sidewalks of Alii Drive, only recently turned into a vehicle-free mall. Out of the giant banyan trees overhanging the street, mynah birds were flying and squawking their enthusiasm for life, all the while hopefully eyeing the pedestrians for someone willing to share a piece of sandwich or a fry. The old steel-and-concrete pier was busy with passengers lined up to board one of the glass-bottom boats, and the Bay itself was alive with sail-boards.

  “I know it’s just another tourist trap,” Millie said, “but I can’t think of any place else I’d rather be.”

  “I know what you mean. It took two years of upper-division work in college over on Oahu to convince me the west coast of the Big Island is where it’s at. Even those big fields of barren lava look good to me. I can’t see myself living anywhere else.” “Enough of that. You’ve got work to do, and I brought some food magazines along. Now that I’m cooking for three, I’d better hunt up some mouth-watering recipes.”

  Lehua smiled. “Relax, Millie. There isn’t going to be another window washer. Not after what happened to the last one.”

  “Maybe not, but I’ll feel more comfortable if I stay here.” As she spoke, she pulled a chair over to the corner of the room and started leafing through her magazines and copying down names of recipes and page numbers on her note pad. Lehua shrugged, turned on her computer and began work on th
e next installment, leaving plenty of blank spaces to be filled in by Carlo’s promised information. The morning slipped by quickly for both of them.

  At noon the phone rang and Cy informed Lehua the AG was in the editor’s office, waiting and eager to meet her. Lehua passed the word along to Millie, and they agreed to make the meeting a short one. Millie said, “I’d much rather be grocery shopping than talking story with a politician on the make.”

  Kerry “Kimo” Page was definitely a politician on the make. Tall, blond, with movie-star good looks, and a smile that would have done credit to any toothpaste advertisement, he had just a hint of native Hawaiian in his ancestry. If it shows at all, thought Lehua, it’s around his eyes. Whatever amount it was, it was little enough so that, in an earlier age, he could have hidden it successfully.

  With a change in social values, Page now played it to the hilt, and had even resurrected a nickname he had probably never used or ever been called by. Today, he was his usual, affable, political self. He rose when the two women entered the editor’s office and held out his hand to Lehua as Cy introduced her. For a moment she was caught off guard, made a tentative move to take the proffered hand, then withdrew hers, saying, “I’m sorry. I banged up my hand this morning.”

  Without missing a beat, the attorney general accepted her stammered explanation, gave her a smile that somehow conveyed his concern and understanding, insisted on moving on to a first name basis, shook hands with Millie, and arranged the chairs in front of Cy’s desk so Lehua was sitting next to him.

  Following the introductions, it was Cy who first brought up the visitor’s reason for the meeting. “Kerry is going to try to get indictments on some of the organized-crime figures over on Oahu, and he wants to include any you may uncover in your investigation.”

  Kerry leaned toward Lehua, adding, “We have sufficient evidence to move and to move quickly against some of the ringleaders over there but, so far, about all we have in the way of material on Big Island activities is what you’ve written in your articles. I’m sure you must have a lot more information beyond that in your files.” A note of warm approval accompanied his words.