by Lee Goldberg
Witnesses reported seeing a dorsal fin measuring twelve to fourteen inches slicing through the water behind the swimmer. The victim struggled with the shark for only a few moments before disappearing.
Based on witness statements, authorities believe the victim was Danny Royal, owner of the Royal Hawaiian, a popular Poipu restaurant. Royal was reported missing by Kamalei Moala, 26, a hostess at his restaurant, when he didn't show up for work
Moala said Royal swam in front of his Poipu residence each day before lunch, but that "he shouldn't have been in the water at all" on Sunday.
Royal was apparently stung by jellyfish during his swim on Saturday, but went back in the water Sunday despite the painful encounter
"The jellyfish were an omen," said Moala, "and he ignored it."
The shark attack sparked a panic on the beach that resulted in several minor injuries. Seven people were transported to Queens Medical Center in Lihue for treatment. Six were released, while one unidentified man remains hospitalized in good condition, recovering from several broken ribs and deep lacerations suffered when he was battered against the rocks by the roiling surf. He is expected to be released today.
Authorities and witnesses credited an unidentified doctor from Los Angeles, who promptly treated many of the injured beachgoers before paramedics arrived, with saving the man's life.
Coast Guard rescue teams searched the waters off Poipu for Royal, while authorities combed the shore line on foot. The search was called off at nightfall and was scheduled to resume Monday morning, though officials conceded they have little hope that Royal survived the attack.
The incident has closed a mile-long stretch of Poipu Beach until Tuesday at the earliest. It was the second shark attack on Kauai in less than two months and the fifth this year in Hawaii.
* * *
Mark was surprised there wasn't more background on Danny Royal in the article, or even a picture of him to accompany the piece. There was a sidebar on the mass exodus of shaken tourists leaving south shore resorts and crowding the Lihue airport, and the lament of resort owners on the immediate, dire impact the shark attack would have on the local economy.
There were several related stories recapping past shark attacks in Hawaii, most of which occurred in nearshore waters after heavy rains. The sharks were drawn to the murky waters filled with runoff from island streams. Sharks were also known to congregate around harbor entrances and channels, between sandbars, and in areas with steep drop offs. Experts speculated on whether the shark that attacked Royal was a tiger, a Galapagos, or a great white.
The coverage continued in the feature section of the paper, with a long article exploring Native Hawaiian folk lore about sharks, which seemed to be viewed either as sacred gods and guardian spirits or as terrifying symbols of unspeakable evil.
One legend Mark found intriguing told the story of Kamaikaahui, a man with a shark's mouth on his back, hidden under his clothes. Kamaikaahui would ambush unwary travelers near the ocean, devour them, and blame their deaths on sharks.
Mark set the paper aside and saw Steve still immersed in the news section.
"Looks like we're going to have the entire island to ourselves," Steve said.
"Would you rather go home?" Mark asked.
"Hell no, I've been looking forward to this vacation for too long."
It took a second before Steve realized what he'd just done. He'd unwittingly confessed that all his moaning and whining about going on vacation was just a trick to get his dad to take some time off.
Maybe his dad hadn't noticed. But Steve knew he was kidding himself. Mark Sloan noticed everything.
Steve peered hesitantly over the edge of his newspaper to see his father grinning at him.
"Uh-oh," Steve said.
"No harm done," Mark waved off Steve's worries. "I figured I was being conned, but I went along with it, anyway."
Steve lowered his newspaper. "Are you sorry you did?"
Mark shook his head. "Until the shark attack, I was really beginning to enjoy myself."
"I was having a great time from the moment we arrived," Steve said. "And I don't see why that should change."
"Because you hardly knew Danny Royal?"
"Because I'm a homicide detective. I see violence and death every day," Steve said, setting his paper aside on the empty chair next to him. "What happened to Danny Royal was terrible, but the truth is, I've seen a lot worse. At least this was a freak accident, a nasty brush with nature. You know how many innocent bystanders I see killed in senseless drive-by shootings every week?"
Mark nodded gravely. "I know what you have to deal with and the stress you carry because of it. That's exactly why you need this vacation so much. You don't have to feel guilty about staying or enjoying yourself."
"Neither do you," Steve said. "How much pain and bloodshed do you see each day at the hospital? How much more when you visit a crime scene? You need this break as much as I do."
Mark looked past the swaying palms to the mist-covered mountains in the distance, impossibly green and dramatically jagged. It was beautiful here, and going home now wouldn't change what had happened.
"You're right, we should stay," Mark said. "But maybe we should consider switching to a different hotel."
"Fine with me," Steve said.
"I'll look into it after breakfast," Mark said. "What are you going to be up to?"
"I think I'll rent a bike and explore the island a bit," Steve said. "I'd welcome some company."
Mark smiled. "I appreciate the offer, but I'll just slow you down. You have a good time."
The waiter delivered the bill. Mark was about to sign for it when Moki appeared at the table and snatched the bill from him.
"Breakfast is courtesy of the hotel, Dr. Sloan," Moki said. "Along with your entire stay at the Kiahuna Poipu Shores."
Mark shared a look of surprise with Steve.
"It's just our small way of saying mahalo for what you did on the beach yesterday," Moki continued. "We were very lucky to have you with us."
"Thank you, Moki, but it really isn't necessary," Mark said, thinking about his plans to switch hotels. "I was just doing what I do."
"We insist, Dr. Sloan," Moki said. "Mahalo nui ba."
Moki left, the bill in hand.
Steve watched him go. "You can't really change hotels now."
"No, I suppose not," Mark sighed.
"Look at the bright side," Steve said, rising from the table. "We're off the hook for everything but the airfare."
"But the beach is closed here," Mark said. "You can't go in the water."
"Do you really think I'm gonna swim anywhere on this island now?" Steve asked. "I might not even take a bath."
Mark took a long stroll on the empty beach. If it wasn't for the circumstances, he would have enjoyed having the entire beach to himself.
He was almost to the other side of the bay, and the resort tower that dominated the point, when a light rain shower hit, despite the heat and the vibrant blue sky. Rather than seek shelter at the other resort, Mark decided to wait out the rain under the cover of the palms that lined the shore.
It rained frequently on Kauai, which was why the island was so incredibly lush and green. The showers, at least on the south shore, rarely lasted more than a few minutes and were often a refreshing respite from the heat. He'd seen beachgoers simply put their books and magazines under a towel and wait it out, happily soaking themselves in the cool rain.
Mark heard the raindrops drumming against something and turned to see an inner tube up in the ice plants, probably washed up by the tide. It was the inner tube that belonged to the boy Steve rescued.
And it was splattered with blood.
At least that's how it would look to the untrained eye. But Mark knew it wasn't blood because it wouldn't have remained its red color, nor would it have clung so tenaciously to the inner tube.
Mark crept closer to the inner tube to investigate. It was swarming with ants, drawn to the crimson splatt
ers.
He took a leaf, dabbed it in the sticky substance, and sniffed. The smell was sweet.
Mark glanced back out at the sea and thought about the legend of Kamaikaahui. Perhaps it was true.
Steve was in the lobby when Mark returned, carrying what looked like a bloody leaf in a baggie.
"What are you doing back so soon?" Mark asked his son, who was soaking wet.
"The damn rain cloud followed me the entire ride," Steve said. "So I ducked into a café and had some coffee. They had the radio on. Did you hear the news?"
Mark shook his head.
"They found Danny Royal's body floating in the harbor," Steve said grimly. "There wasn't much left."
Mark took a deep breath and let it out slowly, thinking. That's when Steve noticed the baggie and what was in it.
"What's that?" Steve asked.
"Something I found on the beach," Mark said. "Do you have any friends on the Kauai Police force?"
Steve studied his dad for a moment, recognizing the expression on his face, knowing exactly what he was in for. He had a funny feeling his vacation was over.
"No," Steve said flatly.
"Then let's go make some."
CHAPTER FIVE
"Ho, he jus' come in. We no done da autopsy yet," Sgt. Ben Kealoha said, staring at the two haoles standing on the other side of the reception desk in the Lihue Police station. "We go'n, but it's no like we need to."
Kealoha was a heavyset, deeply tanned Hawaiian in his midthirties, wearing a loose-fitting, untucked aloha shirt that nearly hid the badge and gun that were clipped to the belt of his faded jeans. In his cheeks he had the permanent laugh lines of a man who found more amusement than sorrow in life.
Mark wasn't sure what Kealoha had just said, but it sounded like they weren't in any hurry to do the autopsy.
"I'm not sure I understand," Mark said.
"Da bruddah was grind by a shark," Kealoha replied. "Nothun' left 'cept his flog, brah."
Mark glanced wearily at Steve, who smiled and flashed his badge at the cop.
"I'm Steve Sloan, LAPD Homicide, and this is my father, Dr. Mark Sloan," he said. "So if you don't mind, bruddah, how about letting us have a look at the body?"
Kealoha examined the badge, smiled back at Steve, and motioned them around the counter. "Why didn't you say so to begin with? Always glad to oblige my colleagues in law enforcement. I'm Sgt. Ben Kealoha, but you can call me Benny."
He led them through the tiny squad room, with its three metal desks, cinder block walls, and window air conditioners, toward a door at the end of long, narrow corridor.
"So what's with the pidgin-English routine?" Steve asked.
"The tourists love it," Kealoha said. "They want us Hawaiians to be Hawaiian, brah. What's your interest in Danny Royal?"
"Nothing official," Steve said.
"We met him for the first time on Saturday. He invited us for dinner at his restaurant," Mark said. "We were on the beach Sunday when he was attacked."
"Do you know him well enough to identify his body?" Kealoha asked.
"I suppose so," Mark said.
"K'den, that will save us some trouble," Kealoha said, holding the door open and motioning them into the morgue. "I really don't want to ask a civilian to make the ID, considering the condition he's in, if you know what I mean."
They walked past Kealoha into the cold room. The floor was cement, gradually sloped toward several area drains for easy cleaning with a hose. One wall was lined with a half dozen refrigerated morgue drawers for holding bodies. There were two autopsy tables in the center of the room. On one of the tables lay the remains of Danny Royal, covered to the neck with a white sheet, not that it made much difference. What the sheet hid the imagination could readily fill in. The sheet was flat on the table below his knees.
Standing beside the table, looking as white as the sheet, was a woman in her late twenties scribbling furiously on her clipboard, taking deep breathes and letting the air out slowly. She had curly brown hair and wore a tank top, a pair of knee-length shorts, and leather sandals. There was a tape measure around her neck, the kind a seamstress might use.
"Dis da shark lady," Kealoha said.
"Veronica Klein." She offered her trembling hand to Mark and Steve. "I'm a senior field agent with the Shark Task Force of the Hawaii State Department of Land and Natural Resources."
"You must need both sides of a business card for all that," Steve said with a smile, then introduced himself and his father to her.
Mark glanced at Danny's frozen face. His eyes were open, his mouth wide, a death mask of utter terror.
"That's Danny Royal," Mark said. "Where's the medical examiner?"
"On his way in from Princeville," Kealoha said. "But we got everything we need to know from the shark lady."
"Which is?" Steve asked.
"Da bruddah was grind by a shark," Kealoha said with a grin.
'There's a bit more to it than that," Veronica said, almost reluctantly turning toward the body. "I'm going to lift the sheet now. I want you to be prepared."
She seemed to be saying it more for herself than for the others. When she didn't hear any objections, she took a deep breath and slowly drew the sheet back to expose the corpse.
Danny's legs were missing below the knees, and both his arms were gone. His torso was also ravaged, large chunks of flesh ripped from his sides.
"As you can see, the wounds are all broad and curvilinear," she said, swallowing hard.
"Curvilinear." Kealoha looked at Steve. "Funny, that was just what I was about to say."
"It means a rough semicircle," she said, a touch of irritation slipping into her voice. "Very rough. The flesh was torn by the shaking of the shark after it bit down."
Mark glanced at Steve and gave him a subtle nod. Steve gave an almost imperceptible nod back.
"How do you know the bite was from a shark?" Steve asked Veronica.
"You mean aside from the fact a hundred people saw the shark grab the guy and pull him under?" Kealoha said.
"I know the wound is from an animal rather than an implement because a knife would make a clean cut; a hatchet or meat cleaver would show multiple chops, as well as nicks and cuts into the bone." Veronica pointed to the edge of one of the wounds. "You can tell it wasn't a bear or a wolf, for example, because those animals have a muzzle, which would create a narrow, longer bite."
"Plus bears and wolves don't attack people in the ocean thirty yards offshore," Kealoha said. "At least not in Hawaii. Does it happen often in California?"
Veronica ignored Kealoha and pointed to the edge of the wound. She was enjoying Steve's attention and the opportunity to show off what she knew. "If you look at the curvature of these bites, the outline of the teeth can actually be seen in the flesh."
Mark found a box of rubber gloves, slipped on a pair, then took a scalpel from a nearby tray. No one seemed to notice as he carefully examined the wounds with the tip of his scalpel.
"Can you tell us anything about the shark?" Steve asked.
"I can tell you a lot," Veronica said. "There are about eight species of shark likely to have ventured so close to shore, but only two that could have done this much damage."
The more Veronica talked, the calmer she became. Her breathing slowed and her hands stopped shaking. Danny Royal was becoming a subject instead of a corpse, something she could detach herself from. What she didn't know was that was one of the reasons Steve started asking her so many questions. He knew if he could distract her from the horror and shift her attention to the facts, to her expertise, her discomfort would evaporate.
He also knew it would give his father a chance to examine the body without interruption or too much attention from Kealoha or Veronica, which was what Mark asked for with his nod to Steve.
"This was done by a tiger shark," she said. "From my measurements of the bite radius, I estimate it's about twelve feet long."
"How do you know it was a tiger shark?" Steve asked.
/> "The location of the attack, witness photographs of the dorsal fin, the shape of the wounds, and one more thing." She took a baggie out of her pocket. It contained a shark tooth. "I found this stuck in the victim's pelvic bone."
"And you took it?" Kealoha asked, snatching the bag from her. "That's evidence. I said you could look at the body, not touch it. That's the medical examiner's job."
"What difference does it make?" she said. "We know what killed this man."
"We do?" Mark asked.
Kealoha looked at Mark as if he'd forgotten he was there, which, in fact, he had.
"You saw the shark get him. A hundred other people saw it, too," Kealoha said. "And if that wasn't enough, take a look at what's left of him. You could bury him in a shoe box."
"I have no doubt that Danny Royal was attacked by a shark," Mark said.
"Then what's your problem?" Kealoha asked.
"My problem," Mark said, "is that it happened after Danny Royal was murdered."
Steve groaned. His vacation was over and his father's had just begun.
Once again, Wyatt's thoroughness paid off in unexpected ways. He'd always planned to stay in Kauai for a few days after he'd killed Danny Royal, but he hadn't intended to follow the two men he'd seen at the restaurant.
Something about the long conversation they had with Royal at dinner bugged him. Why was Royal so friendly with them? Who were they? And how much did they know?
Wyatt didn't think they were a threat, but he was still curious. So after handling the Danny Royal situation and all the necessary cleanup, he'd decided to watch them, more as a way to kill time and remain sharp than anything else.
He expected them to grab their camcorders and take him on a guidebook tour of the island, to all the usual prepackaged, preheated, predigested attractions, restaurants, beaches, and stores, to have the usual prepackaged, preheated, predigested experiences. He didn't see the point of it all. Every airport gift shop sold "vacation videos" that had the same shots of the same places from the same angles as every home movie every tourist made. Didn't that tell anyone anything?
