“Like your white urban myths.”
“So no one thought this guy anything but harmless?”
“On the contrary, you heard what Suzy and her mother said about him, but then, there's thousands of islanders, both Polynesians and Samoans, who are alcoholic, cruel and crazy.”
“That's a fact.”
“Just as there are as many whites with the same attributes, including your men in uniform at the bases. So why would anyone single out Lopaka Kowona as the most likely candidate to be a psychopath?”
“If someone had come forward, maybe your son and Thom Hilani and some forty-five young women would be alive today.”Kaniola hung his head at the mention of his son's name. “But you know, same as I, that nobody did... come forward.”
“His wife, Kelia, from the mainland. You know about her?”
“I knew she ran away from here.”
“Did your son, Alan, know about the Kowonas?”
“Course not. I didn't even know much. This was a long time after the first disappearance, long before DNA matching became standard practice, and there was no real evidence anyone had actually been murdered. You know how active the slave trade is around here. For long time we all thought the wife was abducted or dead. Besides, my boy wasn't even in the academy yet. I never heard the story until Lopaka's name was put on the wires yesterday. Ever'body in the family heard the wife's story of abuse and her suspicions but ever'body also dismissed it.”
“Why's that?”
“The family believed Kelia was just lashing out, trying to hurt him, so they'd dismissed it.”
“Same as the HPD?”
“I'm telling you that Lopaka's wife informed the Honolulu cops of her suspicions. But then the suspicions of a wife are often ignored.”
“Well, Joe, thanks for the education. Dr. Coran's working on trying to get the wife on a plane back here.”
“From what I hear, she'll never return; she fears him too much.”
“Well, we'll see.”
“If you do get her back, I'd like to interview her myself.”
“I'll see what can be arranged.”
They parted on much better terms than they'd ever enjoyed in the past. “Could've knocked me over with a pillow when I learned the killer was one of us and one of you, hapa haole; in a sense, from the beginning, I guess, we were both right about the racial makeup of the killer,” said Kaniola, walking him out to his car. “I hope it doesn't foretell the future.”
“I don't possess any crystal ball and I'm no prophet, but I'm sure Oahu hasn't seen the last of Kowona's kind. I just hope your people and mine can cooperate better than we have on this case.”
He nodded. “I welcome that day.”
“As I've said before, Joe, I'm sorry you lost your son to this maniac.”
“When you catch him. Chief Parry, just make sure he's put away in the deepest hole you can find at Dillingham.”
Once again Parry privately thought that life in the state pen was hardly appropriate. “We're going to do our damndest on that score.”
“But you can guarantee nothing, I'm afraid.” Parry shrugged, saying, “What with the intricacies and complications of the system?”
“A simple justice is all we ask.”
“A simple justice... sounds like an antiquated idea in our times, Mr. Kaniola—”
“Joe, call me Joe.”
“—but as I said, Joe, we'll prosecute with everything we have, which is considerable, and we hate this bastard as passionately as you, but that's not for print.”
“Understood.” Kaniola managed a half smile and slapped him on the back. “I'm confident you will have him in custody within a day or so.”They shook hands and Parry motored off for his house and some much-needed sleep. Along the way, he radioed in, telling Tony about the jungle theory and that the Army should be contacted and asked to help out on a sweep of the mountainous terrain just above and around the Lopaka house. Helicopters might also be dispatched for a wider sweep.
Gagliano thought it a good idea as no evidence that the murdering Kowona had gotten off the island either by plane or boat had surfaced. “Sure,” Gagliano said on the other end, “he hasn't gone anywhere. The creep's up there in the greenery like a murdering ape, ready to take up where he left off as soon as everything cools off. Bastard's become an animal, Jim.”
“Any luck at the museum and where he worked?”
“Bus line acts' if he never sat in a bus, as if they'd fired him a year ago.”
“They fire him?”
“No, hell; they just want to make out as if he didn't belong to them, get me?”
“Got it.”
“Act as if they know as much about him as they do the motors under the hood, you follow? Did some cursing down there.”
“What about the museum?”
“Nada, but they were real interested in the sword.”
“You didn't give them the damned sword, did you?”
“Hell, no, just a copy of the photo. Tellin' you, Jimbo, they went like nuts for it. Recognized it, too.”
“Recognized it?”
“Said it was from the Kowona dynasty, which I ain't never heard of, but then—”
“Get to the point, Tony!”
“The point, Jim, is this: It came from an ancient tribal group that once lived on Kahoolawe.”
Kahoolawe, the forbidden isle, the island where even the FBI had no juice; the island that was now protected as a last bastion of Hawaiian culture and religion, supporting a lifestyle that had no room for deformed or maladjusted children, a land truly meant for the ancient rites and simple justice that Kaniola had referred to, a land like remote Molokai which had spawned Lopaka, a land which had spawned this beautifully ornamented, ceremonial sword he'd used on his victims, which the Bishop Museum people might kill for...
Parry next asked Dispatch to put him through to Lau's labs to speak to Jessica to learn what was going on at her end.
In a moment she came on a bit breathless, telling him of her bizarre phone conversation with Kelia Laliiani and the fact that the HPD had been warned years before—and quite recently—about Lopaka Kowona, but that she'd been ignored.
“Why the hell didn't she contact us?” he asked.
“I asked her that on a follow-up call.”
“What did she say?”
“She was told by a brother that telling the HPD was the same as telling the FBI.”
“That's some excuse.”
“She also said she didn't know Hawaii had an FBI bureau.”
“It's always been a fairly well kept secret, yeah. People!”
“The important thing here, Jim, and I want you not to go crazy if I tell you... promise?”
“What?”
“Promise me you won't go ballistic?”
“Goddamnit, Jess, out with it.”
“The guy she wrote to at the time was the captain of a major precinct who'd been working the disappearances.”
“Scanlon, yeah, I know he was working the original cases. Got that from my own research, but—”
“She read about him in the Ala Ohana and sent him a letter directing him to check Lopaka Kowona and his place out, but nothing was done, or so she believes.”
“Something was done, Jess,” he countered.
“What? How do you know?”
“It was filed away with every one of thousands of unsolicited letters regarding the disappearances. Scanlon was up for P.C., and the case was a drag on his career and he knew it. He found a drawer and lost the case file for as long as it took. In the meantime, each year since, there've been more disappearances, and Scanlon's been blackmailed ever since.”
“Blackmailed? Christ, by whom? You don't mean Joe—”
“Whoa, whoa, I was speaking figuratively, sweetheart.”
“Jeez, we don't need another complication in this mess.”
'Tell me about it, but Scanlon's running scared now. You saw him at the scene. He's being blackmailed by his own damned conscienc
e, and I can't blame him. Hell, I know he's an airhead politico with ambitions and a finger up his ass, but he's also got a decent side that has to be ripped by all this.”
“You think so?”
“Well, yeah, I believe so.”
“Then hold onto your seat, love.”
“What's that?”
“Scanlon was contacted by Kelia again after his two cops were killed out at Koko Head. She tried to revive her earlier complaints against her 'crazy,' estranged husband, but once again Scanlon ignored her.”
“He didn't completely ignore her the first time around, Jess. According to police reports of the time, he dispatched a squad car to look into Mr. Kowona's doings, but they came back empty- handed. Hell, I saw the same complaint and follow-up myself, but amid the thousands of others... well, it meant very little.”
“So? What about after Kaniola and Hilani were gunned down? Scanlon ignored her again.”
“It was no longer his case. He's the commish now, so if anyone was told to look into it, which I doubt, it'd have to be a direct order from him. It was probably handled as just another crackpot call.”
“Letter... she wrote him from California.”
“Mail to the police, even addressed to the P.C., goes through thirty steps before it lands on the proper desk, and with a politically involved guy like Scanlon, you're looking at weeks before he opens his mail unless it had a return address to the mayor or the governor. In point of fact, a secretary probably re-routed the letter before he ever had a chance to see it. Still, somebody in the chain must've spoken to him about it and it clicked some tumbler in his memory, because he did in the end send a squad car around to check on Lopaka, and that's how Lopaka's car was spotted. I only learned of it because I was with Ivers when that baby-faced cop Janklow wanted to personally tell Ivers about it. I immediately got HPD to hold off only because Scanlon was away, something about a fund-raiser on Maui.”
“How's your friend's eyes?” she asked.
“Healing, prognosis for recovery is good. Anyway, now we both understand why Scanlon wanted control of the crime scene the other day. Why he was so damned adamant. Now he's running scared; now he really is vulnerable to blackmail, and maybe one day I'll collect on that note.”
“Let 'im sweat, huh?”
'Teach him to prick around in my cases.”
“I'm sure he's saying precisely the same about you right now. Better watch your back.”
“Yeah, I've given that some thought. Remember what happened to my LTD? That bastard ordered his cops to stand down on that. I had a creepy feeling about it when it happened, but now I know.”
“Jesus, Jim, be careful out there. Where are you now?”
“Just pulling into my driveway.”
“Don't leave your car out.”
“Yeah, next thing you know there'll be a ticking package in the mail for me.”
“You're joking, right?”
“Just one favor, dear.”
“What's that?”
“Promise me you'll get the evidence on the bastard to put him away if anything should ever happen to me.”
“Nothing's going to happen to you.”
“Promise?”
“Nothing's going to happen to you—”
“Promise!”
“—'cause you won't let it happen, not if you... care about me.”
“So, anything new in the slab lab?”
“Shore and I were right about the nature of the wounds. She died of bloodletting... accompanying shock, after which Kowona drove the blades through her with enough force to bring down a rhino. You get a sense he gets off on seeing the muscle spasms and the body dance on impact, but first he had to draw his tattoo patterns over the flesh.”
“Concerned about taboos,” said Parry. “Say again?”
“The true native doesn't make a move without blessing every this-and-that in sight; the ornamental slashes were to bless the offering, make it as pure or puree as flesh gets, I suppose, for the gods.”
“Who've you been talking to?”
“Got some info from a university prof.”
“Hmmmm... Sounds like Kaniola's great-granduncle.”
“Yeah, well, Joseph says the streets are stone cold for information on Lopaka's whereabouts. He could be anywhere. Could be in California, going for the real Kelia... could be on another island, or he could be under our noses.” He quickly explained Kaniola's theory that Lopaka was hiding out in the Koolau Mountains.
“God, from what I saw up there at Lomelea's shrine... hell, the bastard could disappear in a moment if a helicopter passes over. A foot search'll be difficult, time-consuming and costly,” she said thoughtfully.
“Whatever it takes. Tony's calling out the Army-Navy guys now.”
“You get some rest,” she told him. “I can hear tired coming through the line.”
They said good night and Parry, having parked in his garage and having cut off the motor, wearily pulled himself from the car. In the shadows, just outside the unlit garage, there stood a man as tall as Jim, staring. Unable to see anything metallic in the man's hand, Jim nonetheless momentarily wondered if he'd be found dead here the next morning, a .38 slug in his chest. The figure could be only one man, he surmised. “Scanlon? What the hell're you doing here?”
“Been waiting for you to get home now for some time, Jim. Wanted to apologize for yesterday... at the scene...”
“Forgotten, old news. Commissioner.”
“I... I want a truce, Jim, between you and me, I mean. I want our separate agencies to work in better harmony, you know that, you've got to know that.”
“Sure, sure, I know that.” There was no gun in the man's hand, only a heavy weariness in his voice. He had been sweating, just as Jess had said, in dread fear that his oversights would be tomorrow's front-page story in Kaniola's Ala Ohana.
“You spent some time with Kaniola today,” he said as if reading Parry's mind.
“That's right. Look, Scanlon, you want to come inside for coffee or something and we can sit, talk?”
“I didn't come for coffee. Parry, or any bullshit. I come to say I've been wrong, to say it like a man, to put it on the table. Maybe if I'd been more of a cop and less of a... a...”
“Ambitious man?”
“... then maybe I'd have seen this creep for what he was the first time around.”
“Or maybe the second?”
“Damnit, Parry, there were a thousand leads; you know how many women get battered by their husbands and see a story in the papers and come running to us with some wild story about how her man's a rapist or serial killer or an alien from another friggin' world?” His laugh was hollow, unfelt. “Christ, we do... I did what I could. When I was working the case, I didn't have any help, no task force, nothing, and everybody—and I mean everyone— treated it like a street-sweeper job.”
“A street-sweeper job?”
“You know, so many derelicts off the streets, so who's going to miss 'em, right? That was the mentality I was dealing with when Price was P.C. I couldn't get manpower on the thing, and I was fucking inundated, and there were a string of high-rise robberies, a hostage deal and the visit from the damned Pope!”
It all sounded like a series of hollow excuses to Jim Parry, but he raised a hand to Scanlon and said, “Listen, Commissioner, that's all ancient history so far's I'm concerned. I haven't discussed this with anyone.”
He didn't include Jessica.
“Certainly will never talk to Joe Kaniola about it, especially if relations between your office and mine are kept amenable.”
Scanlon, ever the politician, caught the veiled threat like a pro, his mitt held at just the right angle.
“Sure, sure, Jim. Just like Shore said when he got back. We can learn from one another, support one another. Anything your office ever needs just—”
“At the moment I do need every available officer for a sweep of the mountains above Lopaka's house. Whataya say?”
“I can arrange i
t, sure. When?”
“Tomorrow, daybreak. Have them coordinate with Agent Tony Gagliano and the Army.”
“Not a problem. What else you need, Jim? Name it.”
“Sleep, I need sleep, so good night, Commissioner.”
“Yeah, good night. Chief... Jim.”
Parry had moved closer and closer to his kitchen door, and now he zapped the down button on his garage door, which clattered chain-and-drumlike in Scanlon's face. It gave Parry great satisfaction, the entire scene.
20
It's like a lion at the door; And when the door begins to crack. It's like a stick across your back; And when your back begins to smart. It's like a penknife in your heart; And when your heart begins to bleed, You're dead and dead and dead indeed
Anonymous Nursery Rhyme
July 19, Honolulu
Dawn this side of the great island of Oahu was different from dawn in other places around the globe, and this was especially true in Honolulu. Here dawn meant a sensual softening and gradual lightening in the eastern sky while La—the sun itself—remained in hiding, invisible during this long twilight period since it rose from the windward side of the four-thousand-foot pinnacle of the Koolau Mountains, a natural border which rimmed the city on the east, and into which most people now believed Lopaka “Robert” Kowona had escaped.
It was to this sunless gray dawn light, seeping in and wending its way into his bed, that Parry awoke. He was helped along from his slumber by the shrill cry of his telephone, which he desperately wanted to ignore. And he did so until he could stand it no more. “Parry!” he barked. “This better be good!”
“It's me, Gag.”
'Tony? What's up?”
“We're in position and near ready with the search teams at the location where we think Lopaka Kowona might've gone in. Chief. Thought you'd want to be alerted.”
“Where've you set up?”
Tony described the location of the command post.
“Yeah, I know 'bout where that is.”
“We've been under way since before daybreak. Come join us. Should be fun.” Tony's tone and emphasis on the word fun dripped with sarcasm.
“Dr. Coran been alerted, Tony?”
He hesitated. “I can call her after we hang up.”
Primal Instinct Page 28
