The Green Room

by Deborah Turrell Atkinson

  She and Pua went out to the kitchen, where Yamamoto handed Storm a form. “Better fill this in for insurance purposes. And call us if you find anything else missing.”

  “Thanks for coming out.”

  “Lock your doors, okay?” Ursley said, and the two left.

  Pua began to wash out the wine glasses. “When’s your friend getting here? I don’t want to leave you alone, but you need to get ready for dinner.”

  “I’m okay. I’m sure the burglar’s long gone. The police car was pretty conspicuous.”

  “I guess so.” Pua fumbled with the soapy sponge.

  Storm touched her arm. “How are you doing?”

  Pua’s face was pale and drawn. “Not so well. I don’t know what I’m going to do without Nahoa.”

  “It’s got to be awful for you,” Storm agreed. “I’m here if you need me.”

  “Even after all this time? I should have called you long before today.”

  Storm shrugged. “I’ll be here.”

  Pua clasped her arms across her chest as if she were cold and turned to face Storm. “Storm, there is one thing. Will you help me find who sent him the package? Who hated him enough to leave him in the water,” her voice dropped to a choked whisper, “for the sharks?”

  Storm could see Pua struggle with her emotions. The image of the somber group on the beach, hauling the heavy mass to shore, returned to her. She also remembered Gabe’s maliciousness and how easy it would be to cause a death, even if it resulted from a flash of temper or a perceived insult in the water.

  “The police are asking the same questions.”

  “You and I both know that people here won’t talk to them as easily as they will to a pretty face, one with ties to the community.”

  Storm wanted to disagree, but she knew better. Both women remembered a boy who’d been a leader at school, and who’d attended Ke Kula Maka’i, HPD’s training academy. He’d come back to work on the Big Island, and though he was still a local boy, people got a little quieter when he was around. They’d report something outright dangerous, but they wouldn’t discuss the size of someone’s pakalolo patch or whether Auntie so-and-so’s sixteen-year-old had too many beers before he drove home. She and Pua knew that it was often these gossipy tidbits that led to a truth, like pebbles along a trail.

  Pua’s sad eyes beseeched her. Nahoa’s death hurt even Storm, who hadn’t seen him for years. It must have shattered Pua’s world.

  Storm sighed. “I’ll keep poking around.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Storm had brushed her teeth and was finishing with a touch of mascara when she heard banging on the screen door, which she’d locked after Pua’s and the police detectives’ departures.

  “Storm?” Hamlin’s voice sang out.

  She ran to open the door. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I’m late.” He dropped his briefcase on the floor and returned her embrace.

  “It’s okay, so am I. It’s been a busy day.”

  “Are you all right?” He held her at arm’s length and examined her face. “You look upset.”

  “Pua came by.”

  “Nahoa’s sister?”

  “Yes, and something else.” Storm leaned into him. “Someone broke into the house and locked me in the bathroom. The police just left.”

  “Oh, no.” Hamlin pulled her to him. “I wish I’d been here.”

  Storm put her arms around him. “It might have been better that you weren’t. I was scared, but safe.” She didn’t want to think about what might have happened if the intruder had felt the need to disable her, or anyone else, in order to perform his search.

  “Pua got here in time to scare him off and let me out of the bathroom,” she explained.

  “And the police checked the house?” He looked around as if the house needed to be searched again.

  “Yes, it’s fine. He went out the sliding glass door in the living room.”

  “Good grief, Storm.” Hamlin hugged her with a burst of strength that took her breath away. Storm knew that they both remembered all too clearly the close call they’d had when Miles Hamasaki’s killer confronted them. Storm couldn’t help but recall that it was Hamlin who’d suffered the more serious injuries.

  He loosened his embrace. “I’ll have to thank Pua when I meet her.”

  “I hope that’s soon.”

  “You made up for lost time?” Hamlin looked concerned. He knew the families’ history.

  “I’ll tell you about it over dinner. Where do you feel like eating?”

  “I’ll run out and pick up something,” he said, and held her at arm’s length to carefully examine her face for signs of stress. “You can’t feel like going out after the experience you just had.”

  “Are you kidding? I want to get out of here for a while.” Storm caressed the back of his neck. “Then I want to come back together, check over the place—and relax.” She smiled at him.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Somebody told me Damien’s has the best seafood. I made a reservation, but we can cancel it.”

  “No, I want to go. That’s where Stephanie Barstow works, and the food’s great.”

  A half hour later, Storm and Hamlin had a romantic corner booth with candles and a vase of dendrobium orchids on the tablecloth.

  “What’s Pua like?” Hamlin asked.

  “She’s beautiful. If she hadn’t looked like Nahoa, I might not have recognized her. She’s changed a lot.”

  “She wasn’t pretty when you were kids?”

  “I never thought of her that way, but I don’t think so. For one thing, she was shorter and heavier.”

  “Like a lot of girls on the brink of puberty.”

  Storm had to grin. “Exactly. Like I was.”

  “But she’s still a nice person?”

  Storm gazed thoughtfully at the candle. “I think so.”

  “Did she come by just to talk? Because you guys hadn’t seen each other for so long?”

  The waitress delivered a bottle of wine to their table, and Storm, grateful for the interruption, waited for her to serve it. Storm didn’t want to reveal that Pua asked her to question Nahoa’s friends and surf colleagues, because she knew he would strongly oppose the idea.

  Hamlin hadn’t forgotten his question, though. He raised his wine glass to her, and then, like the smart trial lawyer he was, went at it from a different direction.

  “She’s here to set up services for Nahoa?”

  “I suppose. We talked about a lot of things. Family stuff, you know. She works for a TV station in California now.”

  Hamlin elevated an eyebrow. “You haven’t seen this woman since you were twelve, right?”

  Storm examined the rich red liquid in her glass. “Right.”

  “And you still feel a connection with her?”

  “I guess so. I mean, we have history. We each had a parent die when we were young.”

  “And she just lost Nahoa, who had reached out to you. Showed you a kindness.”

  “Yes.” Storm drew out the word and met his gaze. “So?”

  “Storm, you don’t owe her anything. Please don’t get involved in trying to track down who killed him. The police are working on it, and they’ll figure out what happened.”

  Storm leaned her head on his shoulder. “Hamlin, thanks for wanting to take care of me.”

  “I worry, you know.”

  “I know, and I love you for it.”

  The waitress showed up to take their orders. Storm had been too preoccupied to spend much time on the menu, but the pear, candied walnut, and arugula salad caught her eye. Another waiter passed nearby, with two sumptuous plates in his hands. A heavenly aroma trailed in his wake.

  “What’s he carrying?” Storm asked.

  The waitress glanced over her shoulder. “Looks like opakapaka Chinese style, with ginger and sesame oil. The other dish is our
special seafood curry, with ono, scampi, scallops, and calamari.” She winked at Storm. “We serve it with lots of condiments, including homemade mango chutney.”

  Suddenly, Storm was ravenous. “I’ve got to have the curry. It sounds wonderful.”

  Hamlin, meanwhile, had been studying the menu. “I’ll have the osso bucco, with rosemary polenta.”

  They handed their menus to the young woman, and Hamlin turned back to Storm. “What did she ask you to do?”

  Storm sighed. “She wants me to figure out who sent him the package.”

  Hamlin shook his head. “Let the police do that.”

  “I will. I figure I’ll call Brian and find out what the cops have discovered so far and get back to her. She just wants someone who knew Nahoa personally to pay attention.”

  “Do you think the break-in this afternoon had anything to do with Pua or Nahoa?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m glad I don’t have anything written down about Nahoa. Whoever broke in wanted information in my files. I only keep information on clients there.” She winced. “I should probably call some of those clients and warn them.”

  “Like Rodney Liu.”

  “And Mrs. Shirome.” Storm sighed. What a way to start out with Uncle Miles’ former clients. She hoped they didn’t think she was a risky flake.

  Hamlin read her mind. “It’ll be okay. It’s not like your laptop got stolen from a restaurant or someplace public.”

  “Right.” She was unconvinced.

  “You need a cheering-up.” Hamlin reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, slender box, wrapped in bright yellow paper. It had a slightly flattened, off-kilter bow. “Your Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone wanted me to give it to you tonight, instead of waiting until Sunday.”

  “I guess they figured we’d be celebrating your arrival on the North Shore.”

  “Maybe. Aunt Maile definitely wanted you to have it early.” He handed it to her. “Leila and Robbie are going to come up Sunday, and I’m going to give you my gift then. They’re helping me with it.”

  Storm gave him a puzzled look, but he just grinned. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  Storm tore off the wrappings and revealed a black velvet jewelry box. “Good grief, I’m supposed to downplay my thirtieth birthday. Looks like they splurged.”

  She opened the box, gasped, and then beamed. Carefully, she unfastened a gold chain from its protective nest and held it up. Hanging from the chain was a plump little gold pig with emerald eyes. It looked over its shoulder, head cocked, and mouth slightly open in what might have been a smile.

  “It’s adorable.” She cradled the pig in the palm of her hand to see it better.

  “It’s kolohe, like you.” Hamlin peered at it. “Beautiful, too.”

  The waitress arrived to carry off their empty plates. “What a great charm. She looks like a Vietnamese potbelly pig. My friend has one as a pet—they’re so smart. It’s a birthday present?”

  “Yes, and it’s my 'aumakua,” Storm said.

  “Perfect,” the waitress said, and made off with their dishes.

  “I’m glad Aunt Maile didn’t ask me to bring you the real deal,” Hamlin said when she left.

  “That’ll probably happen next year.”

  They were still chuckling over how far Aunt Maile’s devotion to their shared 'aumakua might extend when the waitress returned with three waiters. They carried a dessert plate, with something that smelled delicious and was lit with a single candle. Their harmonious version of “Happy Birthday” masked Storm’s groans—especially when most of the tables around them joined in. The waitress set a warm chocolate soufflé before Storm. She moaned again, with anticipation. This was one of her favorites.

  “I’ll get you for this,” she whispered to Hamlin.

  “Good, I can’t wait,” he grinned.

  And about an hour later, she did. So when the phone jarred them from a dead sleep, it took several rings to find the shrill annoyance.

  Storm, slightly more familiar with the bedroom, got to it first. “Hrmmph?” she croaked into the receiver.

  “He’s not here,” a woman’s voice wailed. “He didn’t come home.”

  “Stephanie? Is that you?” Storm still couldn’t open her gritty eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Almost two. He never stays out this late.”

  “Stephanie, he’s an adult. He’s probably with friends.” Storm rubbed her eyes and thought about how Ben had pushed by her earlier in the day. He’d just told Dede and Sunny about his mother’s and Nahoa’s affair, which in retrospect seemed spiteful, as if he needed company in his disillusionment. Storm guessed his staying out was another attempt to punish his mother.

  There wasn’t any easy way to do this. “Ben knows about the affair. Call the police and report that he’s missing. Tell them about you and Nahoa. The whole story.”

  “They don’t need to hear about Nahoa, do they?”

  “They probably already know.”

  Storm kept talking over Stephanie’s renewed whimpers. “I saw Ben earlier today, er, yesterday. He was upset, but he’ll get over it.”

  “There’s something else, Storm.”

  Storm was now completely awake, and an anxious knot lurched in the area of her stomach. What now?

  Stephanie got control of her tears, but her voice quivered. “I heard some people talking about Nahoa and that other surfer who died.”

  “What? Where’d you hear this?”

  “A couple of surfers who were hanging around the beach. They said Matsumoto and Nahoa had been killed by Hawaiian ghosts.”

  “Who said this? Was it Buster DeSilva? Do you know him?”

  “It wasn’t Buster. These were young guys, and they talked about a sacrifice to Lono. They said Nahoa and Ken both broke kapu. Their bones were shattered, their teeth pulled, and the bodies were hidden in the caves around Pupukea.”

  Storm sat up abruptly. The police had withheld the information about the surfers’ missing teeth.

  “Stephanie, you think you could find out who those guys were?”

  “I’ll ask the woman I was walking with, see if she knows. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, I’m curious,” Storm said quickly. “Did they say how Ken and Nahoa supposedly broke kapu? There are thirty people in the contest. Why would Nahoa and Ken be singled out?”

  “Nahoa used Mo'o, who supposedly comes from ali'i, to get in. Ken comes from real estate money, a lot of it.”

  “Both of them were experienced big-wave surfers. Plus, people pull strings to get in these things.”

  “But the rumor is, they didn’t get in the contest with integrity.”

  “I didn’t know Ken, but Nahoa had a great deal of integrity. He went out of his way to teach wave etiquette and good will. Contrary to some other guys I’ve seen,” Storm couldn’t help adding.

  “That’s true. It’s probably just jealous gossip.” Stephanie drew a deep breath and switched topics. “Ben might be at his father’s.”

  “And I’ll bet he’s safe in bed. The police can check that for you.”

  “Storm, I don’t want to call the police. If the police show up at Marty’s, he’ll tell them…well, he’ll tell them about the money. He’ll make it sound really bad.”

  “It’s your word against his. You’re going to have to work that out, you know.”

  “Not today, not while Ben is in this contest. Please, will you come over?” Stephanie pleaded.

  “What do you want to do? You want to go knock on Marty’s front door at this hour?”

  “We’ll just drive by. We can see if Ben’s car is parked by the house. All I want is to know he’s safe.” Then she added, “And I want you there in case Marty sees me.”

  “Have you tried phoning?”

  “Yes, but neither of them answer. I’ve only got a cell number for Marty, and it’s been busy for an hour.”

  Storm could understand Stephanie’s concern
for Ben’s whereabouts, but if she was certain he was at Marty’s, why didn’t she just wait until morning? Though she probably wouldn’t get much sleep. Storm thought about how Leila fretted over Robbie’s safety. She’d be a quivering mess if she didn’t know where Robbie was.

  How much did Storm’s duty to her client obligate her? She remembered Mrs. Shirome’s tales of how Uncle Miles had gone out of his way to help her with a case that required behind-the-scenes activity.

  Storm suppressed a ponderous moan and swung her feet over the side of the bed. “I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes,” she said.

  Hamlin reached out and toyed with a lock of her hair. “What’s happening?” he mumbled.

  “It’s Stephanie Barstow. She’s worried about Ben, who hasn’t come home.” Storm stood up on legs that ached almost as much as her head. Her mouth felt like it had been tarred and feathered. Too much wine, too little sleep.

  Storm pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and shivered in the damp, chilly night air. Wind rattled the palms alee of the cottage, but even above the susurration of the branches rumbled a jagged, incessant thunder. Open ocean swells, powering in from massive storms in the Aleutians, were quaking the shore and blasting their salty spume along the coastline.

  She reached up and touched her new necklace, which lay heavy and cool against her bare chest. Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone had sent it not only because they knew she’d love the mischievous little critter, they’d given it to her for protection. It made her feel better about going out into the black, thundering night.

  Chapter Thirty

  Stephanie was out the door of her modest duplex before Storm came to a stop in the gravel drive. In the light of the open door, Storm could see the figure of another woman, who waved from behind the screen.

  “Who’s with you?” Storm asked when Stephanie got in the car.

  “The condo’s a three bedroom and Ben and I share it with a flight attendant. She travels half the time, and spends a lot of her time in Honolulu with her fiancé. It’s a great deal for us, because she pays a third of the expenses.”

  Storm waved back at the woman, who slowly closed the door on the night. She could see that Stephanie’s eyes were swollen and red.