Storm didn’t know the pretty woman, nor did she recognize the man sitting next to her, who touched her hand lovingly when she spoke. There was an odor Storm recognized, though she couldn’t place it. Not a good one, either. Rancid and penetrating.
The scent didn’t come from the affectionate couple, from Tanner, or from Poele’s direction. Lambert’s eyes were swollen and bloodshot, and though they met Storm’s and tried to communicate something, Storm didn’t know what. They always returned to Jenny, who wasn’t paying attention. Jenny watched someone outside the front door, someone who either couldn’t or wouldn’t come in.
The next Storm knew, a halo of daylight was peeking around the drapes, and she woke again with a jerk, this time because she was worried she’d be late for breakfast. She’d agreed to meet Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone at six-thirty so they could get an early start on their ride.
She jumped out of bed, did the least she could in terms of morning rituals, and jogged over to the dining hall. Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone already had a table and were sharing the Sunday Honolulu Star-Bulletin.
“Good morning,” Aunt Maile said. She took a drink of her coffee and Storm resisted the urge to grab it from her. She still felt fuzzy with sleep, while Aunt Maile looked fresh and rested.
“Have you been here long?” Storm asked instead, and snagged the mug at the empty place setting. She loved it when restaurants left an entire carafe of strong, hot coffee on the table.
“Five minutes.” Uncle Keone looked up from the paper. “You look tired.”
Storm thought about sharing her dream, but decided she’d mull it over a bit longer before she put it into words. She explained the other reasons she hadn’t slept well. “I’m worrying about Luke Williams. And I couldn’t get hold of Hamlin last night.”
“Hamlin probably went to bed early and turned off his phone,” Aunt Maile said. “You could call the police to check on the boy.”
“I’ll do that right now,” Storm said. “If the waiter comes before I’m back, order me the taro pancakes.” She took her coffee cup with her when she left the table to make the call.
Outside the dining room, she dialed Hamlin, who answered on the first ring.
“How’re you feeling?” she asked.
“Better. Did you get my message last night?”
“Yes, who told you Brock Liu knew who started the fire?”
“Devon Liu’s assistant.”
“Brock told him? Why didn’t he say anything before this?”
“Her name’s Alyssa Bennet, and Brock mailed her a letter. It got here yesterday.”
“So it was sent Wednesday or Thursday?”
“The postmark is from Kaunakakai on Thursday.”
“Brock had been dead about two weeks already. You think he told someone to mail it if he didn’t show up at a specified time? What does it say? Have you seen it?”
“I think so, I don’t know, and no.” Hamlin cleared his throat. “Let me tell you what I do know. It seems Brock and Alyssa had a thing going.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Yeah, well, Alyssa will only tell me the part of the letter that mentions sorcery. It’s apparently like the stuff you saw at Lambert Poele’s.”
“So who’s the sorcerer?”
“Don’t know yet. She didn’t have the letter when we met with Liu yesterday because she didn’t want him to know about it until we have more information. We’re meeting in an hour, and I told her to bring the letter, or at least the pertinent pages.”
“Aunt Maile got some information that the fire sorcerer’s name is Kekapu.”
“Sounds familiar.”
“It’s Makani’s last name.”
There was a stunned silence on the line. “Holy shit.”
“My reaction, too. See if that corresponds to Alyssa’s information.”
“Makani would have only been, what, sixteen, seventeen?”
“That’s what I figure.”
“I wonder if the sorcerer has to be on the site to start a fire.”
“I already asked Aunt Maile about that, and she doesn’t think so. It’s done by chanting, perhaps over a period of time, and the chanter may need a possession or part of the intended victim.”
“You mean like hair or fingernails? Storm, I just don’t buy this whole premise. Alika Liu died of smoke inhalation. He got trapped and overwhelmed by the fire.”
“I’m just repeating what I’ve heard, and the part that matters to me is that someone is still willing to commit murder to keep anyone from finding out who lit the fire or why. You can take or leave the sorcery aspects, except as possible clues to help you answer the who and why.” She thought for a moment. “We know the police already looked into arson. Have you seen any of those reports?”
“Devon Liu got all the evidence collected back then, which is pretty skinny. No one knows how it got started, though the inspector believed it began in the living room, where the drapes caught first and spread across the ceiling. There were no apparent signs of accelerants or faulty wiring. The house was frame and about thirty years old, so the wood would have been dry and flammable. That’s part of the reason Poele was never indicted. No evidence.”
Storm heard the question in his voice. “What are you thinking?”
“I wondered if you could ask the local guys what they saw and if they conducted interviews. You know, what they didn’t write in the reports. That guy Niwa might talk to you.”
“He’s in the hospital, and it’s serious.”
“Damn. What happened to him?”
“A bleeding ulcer.”
“Don’t tell me that’s caused by sorcery.”
Hamlin was joking, but the comment made Storm think twice.
“I doubt it,” she said.
A long moment passed before Hamlin spoke. “Storm, you don’t want to raise people’s suspicions. Just talk to the cops. Don’t go to anyone else. Please?”
“Okay,” Storm said. It was good advice. As it was, he’d have a fit if he knew she’d gone back to Poele’s. That outing could stay a secret until this was over. “Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone are with me, remember?”
“Make sure Aunt Maile stays close by. Keone and you are cut from the same cloth.”
Storm chuckled. “I’ll tell him.”
This time, Hamlin laughed. “He’ll be flattered.”
“Oh, sure.”
Storm was still grinning as she searched for the number to Moloka‘i Hospital on her call log. “Do you know if Sergeant David Niwa is up yet?”
“I’ll connect you to the nursing station,” the operator said.
The nurse who answered was friendly and informative. “He’s not in his room now. Could I take a message?”
“I’ll call back, thanks.” Storm hung up and called Iinformation for the police station. She asked for Detective Steve Nishijima.
“Nishijima here,” he answered.
Storm explained that she was a friend of Tanner’s, and that she was concerned about Luke. “My mother died when I was about the same age,” she said. “Plus, I heard he was diabetic.”
“We had a call from a woman last night who picked up the boy and drove him to Halawa Bay to meet his father.”
“Do you know how to get hold of Tanner? I’d like to make sure Luke got there.”
“He didn’t give you a number?”
“Only to Hawai‘i EcoTours, but I haven’t been able to catch him.” It was likely Connor didn’t pass along her message. She decided right then to ask Uncle Keone to stop at the Hawai‘i EcoTours office on their drive to Halawa Bay.
“That’s our phone contact, too.”
“Do you know where his cabin is located?”
There was a pause on the line, and Nishijima’s tone was cooler when he answered. “Not exactly.”
And Storm knew she’d reached the end of that line of questioning, at least until she met him face to face. Maybe she should h
ave started with questions about the fire, but she didn’t think he’d tell an unknown person about a cold case from ten years ago. No, she was going to have to try and talk to Niwa in person.
She went back into the restaurant and found Aunt Maile drinking her coffee and reading the paper alone.
“Where’s Uncle Keone?” Storm asked.
“He saw Dusty walk by, probably getting a cup of coffee, and he went out to talk to him about using a horse trailer for the ride.”
By the time the waitress had set down the plates, Uncle Keone had returned, and he looked disgruntled. “He acted sort of secretive. After all these years, Dusty could at least tell me if he’s got a date.” Keone doctored the levels of cream and sugar in his replenished coffee mug and took a sip. “Then he told me Makani would try to hook us up with a trailer. Like he wasn’t sure.”
“Maybe he’s getting more discreet with age,” Aunt Maile said.
Keone looked at her dubiously and bit into a piece of toast. “I know he’s got a horse trailer. I’ve used it before, and I’ve loaned him mine four or five times.”
“Maybe it’s with Makani,” Storm said.
“Yeah, maybe,” Keone said again, but he didn’t sound happy. His irritation didn’t affect his appetite, though, and a smile spread across his face when he bit into his omelet.
Chapter Thirty-three
Lambert Poele stood inside the industrial-sized refrigerator in his barn and scrutinized the label on one of the cartons stacked against the wall. He shoved his reading glasses up his nose and handed the box to Dusty Rodriguez.
“Jesus, these are heavy. How many are there?” Dusty asked.
“Twenty-eight all together. Orders are good. I may have to get some more goats.”
He picked up another, checked it off on a clipboard, and handed it to Skelly Richards. All three men were sweating.
Skelly grunted with the weight Poele deposited in his arms. “I thought you had new goats.”
Poele peered at him over the reading glasses. “They’re three months old, and two are males. I’m glad you run a tour business.”
Skelly rolled his eyes. “I didn’t have all the information.”
Dusty laughed out loud and shifted the box in his arms.
Poele clapped Skelly, then Dusty, on the shoulders and grinned. “I appreciate the help.” He bent to pick up his own carton.
“What are friends for?” Dusty said, and headed out the door. No one talked as they walked the ten yards or so to the horse trailer, which was backed as close as Dusty could safely get it. The barn sat on a rise and had a great view out to the ocean, but someone had placed a ring of big lava rocks around it.
“The fuck is with these rocks?” Skelly asked, and wiped his streaming face with the back of his hand. It left a dirty smudge.
“Safety.” Poele’s voice was short. “It’s a Hawaiian thing.”
Skelly just grunted.
Dusty situated his box in the front horse stall, then stacked Skelly’s and Poele’s boxes beside it, and the three men went back for the next load.
“Did you get your truck running yet?” Dusty asked Poele.
“It’s sputtering along, but I wouldn’t trust it with this load.” He handed over two more boxes, and followed with a third. “I owe you guys.”
“You need a new starter,” Dusty said after the next trip. He held out his arms for the next carton. “Makani’s good with engines. We’ll help you install it.”
“Where is he this morning?” Skelly asked. His face was red and he didn’t look happy.
“Hey, Sunday’s busy,” Dusty said. “Someone’s got to get the tourists saddled up, take care of the horses.”
“Sunday’s busy for everyone. I’ve got things to do, too.” Skelly gave Poele a sidelong glance. “So, is he with us or not?”
Poele didn’t acknowledge the look and both he and Dusty ignored the comment. Poele checked off three more boxes, handed one each to Dusty and Skelly, and led the group out to the truck.
Back at the barn, he consulted his clipboard. “Four more trips oughta do it.” Poele put the board down and looked over the labels on the remaining cartons. When he handed a box to Skelly, he said, “The boy’s young. Don’t worry, he’s with us.”
“Yeah, how can you be sure?” Skelly asked.
“He is.” Poele’s eyes over his glasses were hard, and they flicked between Dusty, who scowled silently, and Skelly. “I meant it when I said I appreciate the help.” His eyes settled on Skelly. “We thought you were with a tour group this weekend.”
“That’s what I meant about Sundays being busy for all of us. Business is good.” Skelly took a box from him. “Connor’s got the tour group this morning.”
“No shit. You trust him with kids and all that gear?” Dusty asked.
“Of course,” Skelly snapped, then seemed to reconsider his tone. “He’s shaping up. He’s off the drugs.”
“For real?” Poele asked. “Where’s Tanner?”
Skelly scratched at his arm. “He has to meet his son.”
Poele grunted. Dusty went for appeasement. “That’s great, man. And how’s Tanner doing these days?”
“He’s okay, but he and Luke are kind of broke up over Jenny’s death,” Skelly said.
“I thought Tanner hated her.”
“Not hate. That’s too strong a word,” Skelly said. “They couldn’t live together, that’s for sure, but they agreed on their kid.”
“How’s the boy doing?” Poele asked. “Must be really hard on him. He’s sick, isn’t he?”
Skelly shrugged. “Diabetes, but he’s good at taking his meds. Hey, how many more boxes you got there?”
The men finished the last load and Poele invited them in for a drink. He popped the top on a longneck and handed it to Dusty, who waved it off.
“It’s not eight yet. I’ll take some water, though.”
Skelly took the beer. “I’m not proud.”
“It’s not pride, I’ve got to drive this load into town, then get back to the ranch.” Dusty sounded a touch defensive.
“Hey, no problem.” Poele handed him a glass of ice water. “I appreciate your dropping the load at the docks.”
“Let’s get that truck of yours fixed.” Dusty downed his glass of water.
Skelly watched Poele dig through a line of beers to pull out a Coke. “You got more beer than food in there.”
“That woman came over last night and brought half a case.”
“Woman?” Skelly snorted. “You made a quick recovery.”
“Huh?” Dusty lowered his glass.
Poele raised an eyebrow at Skelly. “It wasn’t like that. She had some questions about Hawaiian history.”
“Who did?” Skelly and Dusty asked together.
“The lawyer from Honolulu. She’s half Hawaiian.” He gestured toward the sitting room, where the three of them took seats. Right before he dropped into his chair, Poele caught sight of his sculpture and a shadow crossed over his face. “She thought Maui was a hula dancer.” His eyebrows met in a frown. “And it’s all I’ve got left of Jenny.”
“You’re lucky Skelly got it back to you before the crime tape went up,” Dusty said.
“Yeah, I guess.” Poele looked at his friend. “How’d you do that?”
Skelly suddenly looked very sheepish.
“You never got it dropped off, did you?” Poele asked, but there was no anger in his voice.
“I forgot for a few days, then Connor borrowed my car.”
Poele shook his head slowly. “Connor, again.” He shrugged. “Well, none of us expected what happened.” He looked around. “Did we?”
“Hell, no,” Dusty said, and Skelly echoed his words.
“Like I thought,” Poele said. “So now I’ve got to get it fixed.”
“She used to send stuff to the Big Island for bronze casting.” Skelly got up and went over to the piece. “How’d it break?”
<
br /> “Dunno,” Poele said. “I think I knocked it over the night I tripped over the lamp.” He pointed at the misshapen, dented shade.
“You gotta ease off the beers, buddy,” Skelly said.
“He’s working on it.” Dusty pointed to Poele’s Coke and stood up to leave. “I’d better get your cheese to the docks.”
“And watch out for Honolulu attorneys asking questions,” Skelly added.
Dusty looked back. “Yeah, what did she want to know?”
“History, just history,” Poele said.
All three men stood up and Poele walked with his friends to the door. When he closed it behind them, he wore a thoughtful expression.
***
Luke found himself on clean white sheets under a warm blanket on the pull-out sofa in the living room. The shutters were closed, but sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows and spilled a warm glow through the house. He smelled coffee brewing, and knew his father was already up and making breakfast.
The last thing he remembered was Tanner bringing the glucose monitoring kit to him and watching him to make sure his blood sugar was in an acceptable range. He must have fallen asleep soon after, because he didn’t even remember moving from the chair to the bed.
Luke stretched lazily, then sat up, his eyes wide open. Thursday night, after he’d called 911, Luke had run to his mom’s room. Just inside the open door, he’d stopped to take in the unmade bed, the clothes she’d left strewn across it, a couple of pairs of shoes kicked in the direction of the closet, the scent of her soap and powder in the air. He knew what he was looking for, but the sensuous assault had stopped him as surely as a shove to the chest.
After a moment, he pushed on, nearly frantic with the knowledge that he’d failed to protect her. There was one thing he could still do, and that was to keep a promise he’d made.
For years, he’d known about his mother’s secret hiding spot inside a big book she cherished on sculptor Louise Nevelson. He figured she knew he knew, though neither of them ever mentioned it. His parents’ marriage license was in the book, too. When his father had first left, Luke would get it out and look at it, hoping that if he made wishes while he held it, they would hold more power.
Fire Prayer Page 20
