The Howling Cliffs

by Mary Deal

  “For the record, the mother of what boy?”

  Bao pounded the metal piece on the ground. “Dis one who live here—Maleko.” He pointed to a pair of faded black slacks and jacket. “The mom always wear black when travel.” He looked at Sara, then to the officers. “See dis?” Again, he pointed with the rod. “Dis jacket to pantsuit. We open, okay?”

  “Continue then,” Det. Lio said.

  Bao made a motion down the front of his chest. “Find silver thread flower on front.” He quickly unfolded the jacket and held it in place on the ground with a foot. The lapels of the jacket showed faded silver threads in a floral pattern. “Yah!” He knocked a couple other pieces apart and a once-beautiful lace evening dress came loose and lay in a pathetic wilted mess. Its bodice was covered with faux pearls that must have once glowed but were now discolored, dull and peeling. “Dat one! My store have big business opening, Kahuna blessing, Chinese firecracker, big smoke, everything.” He waved his free arm around while speaking. “We make newspaper with picture. We keep picture. The mother wear dis dress!”

  If Bao and Ling were only the second people to live on the block, inviting Maleko's family to Bao's store opening years earlier would have been a nice neighborly gesture.

  Det. Lio lowered his camera. “Can you let us borrow that picture?”

  “Ya, I look in storage.” He poked at the clothes again with the metal piece. “All black clothes, maybe flashy dress. The mother has red hair.” He made a motion like she might have had long wavy tresses. “Red hair show nice on black.”

  Sara motioned by pulling at some of her own hair. “Maleko's mother had red hair?”

  “Ya, everyone call her Menehune Red. Menehune people have red hair.”

  Sara didn't understand. “Help me here, Birdie.”

  “In Hawaiian mythology, the Menehune were said to be night workers who came in secret after dark to help you finish a big job. Legend has it, that's how the Menehune Fish Pond was built, over by the river that feeds into Nawiliwili Bay.” She paused a minute. “Oh, the Menehune were said to have red hair.”

  “Dat's da one! Menehune Red, they call her. Da mother work nighttime too.”

  Sara had many questions and wished she could pick Bao's brain for every last detail. “Okay, so why would Maleko's mother's clothes end up in this old fridge?” Finding Maleko's mother's personal belongings fueled another wild idea Sara had. The proof could be right in front of them.

  Chapter 43

  Sara, Birdie and Bao exited Maleko's front gate while officers headed toward their patrol cars. Birdie snapped her fingers to signal Ka'imi to follow. The detective placed the box of evidence into the trunk of his car along with several bags of the moldy stack of clothing.

  Sara having privately disclosed her hunches to the detectives, the plan was to leave a couple of officers behind to apprehend Maleko and bring him in for questioning before he could again set foot onto his property. Bao would dig out that old photo from his mementos.

  A loud clattering came from the far end of the junk stack. Both Sara and Birdie turned quickly to see Ka'imi jump out of the way of old two-by-fours that collapsed onto the junk pile. Then she began again, sniffing away at the junk. Before Birdie could reach her to take hold of her harness, she ran to the underside of the house and began sniffing under the picnic table.

  “Ka'imi!” She could have been hungry and sniffing food smells around the table. Ka'imi looked at Birdie but kept sniffing. Finally, after saying her name again to no response, Birdie reached under the table to grasp her harness and pull her away.

  Officers had headed to their cars to get a jump on writing reports. Det. Lio came looking for them and called them out of the yard. Once out on the street, Sara glanced down the length of the cul-de-sac, gasped and stopped. Her gasp made Officer Makamai turn to face her. Other officers stopped nearby. “Don't look now.” Sara acted nonchalant. “There's a big black truck with darkened windows parked down by the highway. It could belong to a neighbor but I've never seen it here before.”

  Most always, residents in the cul-de-sac parked in their own driveways or garages. The shiny near-new truck sat at the curb two houses into the cul-de-sac. Det. Lio semi-hid behind Sara and spoke discreetly and quickly into his radio. Soon, officers casually climbed out of the cars and came sauntering over to join them.

  Officer Makamai avoided looking in the direction of the truck. “Does Maleko also have a black truck?”

  Ka'imi kept pulling against her leash. Birdie having to deal with a restless animal was a blessing in disguise. It made them look natural on the street if someone were watching, but the uniformed officers couldn't hide themselves or their cars.

  Sara sensed something new. If that was the same truck that ran her off the road, the person may have come seeking to learn if she truly had perished. Not expecting such a spectacle in the area, the driver had parked casually at the opening of the cul-de-sac watching everything happening within the circle.

  She feigned interest, looking away, out toward the ravine area. “It's a high riding truck with a double cab, like the truck that ran me off the road.” She was sure they were now being watched by whoever was inside that truck and hiding behind darkened windows. Why else would it be parked in a position to quickly back out of the cul-de-sac entrance and make an easy getaway down the highway?

  “I thought there was a law against darkened windows.” Birdie had to yank Ka'imi's leash to calm her down.

  The group reached Sara's house and casually proceeded on to Birdie's front gate where she and Sara stopped.

  Sara nonchalantly glanced again. What she saw created a huge adrenaline rush, but also waves of caution. The side of the truck looked to have big silver letters RAM close to the front fender. The memory of a white or silver streak whizzing past her when she was forced off the road came to mind. With only a quick glance, such large letters could blur into a streak at the great speeds their vehicles had traveled.

  Trying to keep her surprise subdued, still she gasped. “That could be the truck!”

  The officers knew exactly what she meant. They kept walking. The detective signaled. Two officers crossed to the opposite side of the street while the others walked down the middle of the pavement headed toward the mysterious vehicle.

  Ka'imi whined and strained against her leash.

  Suddenly, the truck's motor started, loud and irregular. rumbling and sputtering, just like the engine of the truck that ran Sara off the road. The truck suddenly lurched straight backward at a great speed, out of the cul-de-sac and onto Kuamo'o Road, where it forcefully collided with an approaching sedan traveling at a high rate of speed and loaded on top with a stack of surfboards. Shattered pieces flew through the air like missiles. The sound of the impact was brain-jarring. The rear half of the truck ran completely up over the sedan's hood, coming to rest on the very top. Metal and glass crunched and showered the pavement. Screams from inside were cut short when the roof collapsed. The sedan's speeding driver surely had no time to apply the brakes. The impact of the truck turned both vehicles sideways in the middle of Kuamo'o Road. The wreckage blocked both lanes of the highway.

  Officers ran with guns drawn. “Get out of the truck with your hands up!” The officers may have been too far away to be heard. One kept yelling the order.

  The rear half of the truck was perched on top of the smashed sedan, the front wheels and bumper on the pavement. The driver of the truck tried to gun the engine to free the truck. His effort made both the sedan and his truck rock back and forth. One rear truck tire may have ground against a jagged piece of metal and exploded.

  “Get out of the truck!” An officer yelled, assumed a stance and pointed his pistol. Another called in the accident on his Rover.

  Incomprehensively, the driver still tried to free the truck from the top of the sedan by rocking the truck back and forth. He couldn't have been thinking about the people in the car beneath him.

  Before most of the officers could run the length of t
he street and take positions on opposite sides of the truck, the driver bailed with his tee shirt pulled up over his head and ran through the shrubbery across the highway.

  “The other side!” Sara jumped, motioned across the road, and screamed at the top of her lungs. “He's getting away!”

  Chapter 44

  No sooner had the driver ducked through the tall hibiscus hedge into someone's yard across the highway when it sounded like a dog attacked him. The ferocious sounds and the man screaming made Sara cringe.

  Ka'imi stood at attention, pulling on her leash, ready to run with the police. Birdie dragged her into the yard and slammed the gate closed. Sara, with Birdie on her heels, ran toward the intersection.

  When the truck had rammed the sedan, it caused the rear passenger doors to pop open. The right front door was crushed like an accordion with the truck's right rear tire hanging over it. Two people in the rear seats hadn't moved. The doors had twisted and ripped with jagged points of metal poking out. Metal fragments and glass shards were spread over a wide area and lay sparkling in the sunlight. Splintered pieces of colored surfboards lay scattered. Chunks of dried mud from underneath the truck had shaken loose and were thrown askew. The gruesome scene seemed totally surreal.

  Then a woman, bloodied and dazed, and without making a sound, fell sideways from the rear seat of the sedan. Her head hit the pavement. She didn't move. She had not been wearing a seatbelt. She lay twisted with her feet caught inside the car. One arm, bent at the elbow with the hand poking up in the air, shook and twitched in a most grotesque manner. Her quivering moans told of her disorientation and shock.

  Sara and Birdie bent down to help. Sara touched the woman's shoulder gently to get her attention, if that were possible. Her arm moved. Her fingers flicked. “Don't move. Help is on the way.” Sara wished to place something soft under the woman's head but knew she shouldn't move her neck.

  The woman lay with all that glass and mud under her. Under the wash of blood on her face and running from her nose and mouth, she looked to be in her early thirties. Blood was already coagulating in her blonde curls. She stared unblinking toward the sky with a blank expression. The amount of blood splattered over her was sickening. The only thing Sara could do was block the hot sun's rays from falling directly onto her face.

  “We're here.” Birdie stooped down. “Help is on the way. Please don't move.”

  “We'll stay right here beside you.” Sara leaned close to her ear. “Can you hear us?”

  The woman seemed to wilt. She may have just died with eyes wide open.

  “I don't know CPR.” Birdie whispered to Sara as quietly as possible as she moved her hand in the air above the woman's chest seeking the right place to begin applying pressure.

  Sara quickly batted her hand away and hid her voice by whispering. “She could have broken ribs, internal bleeding. She could have glass stuck in there. CPR could pressure her to bleed to death.”

  Birdie's eyes opened wide in revelation. CPR could also cause a broken rib to puncture a vital organ. Sara watched for signs of the women's breathing. The woman continued to stare unresponsive.

  Birdie ran to get an officer to come and witness the death. As the officer stooped and bent over the woman searching for signs of life, she gasped for air, choked and ejected a mouthful of bloodied spittle. The officer fell back on his hands and flinched when they contacted pieces of glass on the pavement. He quickly changed his torn gloves. The woman coughed up more blood and sneezed it out her nose. Steadying her neck as much as possible, the officer had no choice but to pull her completely out of the car and roll her onto her side to keep her from drowning in her own fluids.

  Sara remembered hearing sirens but was engrossed in attention to the woman. By the time she looked around again, the area was swarming with cops. Many officers lived in the Wailua Homesteads. They must have been the off-duty officers who arrived in regular cars and street clothes and who wore badges on straps around their necks or clipped to their waistbands. However, the ambulances would have to come from Old Kapa'a Town farther away. Sara felt the anxiety of the wait.

  Gas, oil, diesel fuel, and water had exploded out of the vehicles from the force of the impact and splattered everywhere. The fluids continued to run out onto the pavement in all directions and down the slight slope of the road. The gasoline and diesel stench was strong and gagging, the possibility of an explosion imminent.

  Birdie had disappeared but now reappeared with blankets and threw one over the woman in an effort to keep her warm and stave off shock. Bao appeared looking to be in mild shock himself.

  Sara glanced into the caved-in sedan. A man sat slumped over in the back seat, but now his arm began to move. He tried to sit up and bumped his head, evidently confused about his predicament and not realizing the top of the car was caved in. One of the front truck tires suddenly blew out causing the truck to rock and further settle on the sedan's crushed roof. The rear left passenger door popped off its hinges. Someone needed to get that man out quick. The weight of that truck could bring it down on top of him. Though Sara couldn't see into the front seats from where she stood, someone also needed to tend to the driver.

  To Sara and Birdie, the officer said, “Don't touch anything without gloves.” He also pointed to Bao as he passed out a set for each of them. The officer signaled for another to come and help. It was strange that he didn't send her and Birdie away, but he was one of the officers who had been with them in Maleko's yard and they needed all the help they could get anyway.

  Det. Lio began photographing various shots of the scene for police records. Once or twice, when he paused and moved the camera away from his face, he looked pale and nauseated.

  Several neighbors kept their distances but all talked on cell phones. Some took pictures. Who would want to take pictures of a possible death scene. But then, many people now took pictures and videos, a way of assuring the news was told according to the way it happened.

  Bao spoke with an officer who produced a couple of traffic cones from the trunk of his car. Bao hurried farther down the highway to help direct the line of vehicles. Kuamo'o Road was occasionally traveled by tourists visiting the Arboretum or going father back into the forest, but this sedan was no rental car. These weren't tourists. These were young island people headed toward the beach and a bit of surfing. In their hurry, they cruised at a high rate of speed on a less traveled back road.

  The blast horns and sirens of fire trucks announced they were nearing. The Fire Captain arrived first in his pickup and eased the wheels over the curb, parking just inside Maluhi'a Street. The smaller paramedic truck, loaded with life saving equipment from oxygen to surfboards, followed the Captain. The fire truck came next, blasting and screeching up through the oncoming lane and most likely having to slow to a near crawl around the dramatic S-curve midway down the hill between the middle and upper Homesteads areas. The intersection was immediately crawling with firemen in gold suits with florescent yellow stripes. Some rushed to assure the vehicles would not explode. Others followed the trail of gas and diesel and used paint spray cans to mark off where it ran off the highway and into the weeds on the shoulders.

  The medics had grabbed trauma kits and a backboard and began to tend to the woman. Surprised, one found a pulse. “We've got her. Weak and thready though.”

  The smell of rain filled the air. The wind picked up. Then the rain came. Containing the spilled fuel would now be a huge chore for the crews.

  One medic stood up and leaned over the woman to keep rain off her and the guy tending her. He was getting wet. They were all getting a soaking. The woman's bloody clothing was quickly cut and discarded, even her blood soaked panties. No visible wounds were found on her lower body. The amount of blood she coughed up could be a sign of internal injuries. They covered her with a sheet. At the same time, they started a saline IV to ward off shock. After assuring she had no open neck wounds, a collar was placed around her cervical area. She was gently lifted onto the back board and moved
aside while one medic stayed and attempted to stop the bleeding gashes on her face, chest and arms. He tried to stop her arm from twitching and gently laid it down. The arm came up again and continued its pathetic dance. The woman's eyes remained open and unblinking.

  Chapter 45

  Sara's hair hung in curls, water dripping off the ends. She was soaked. It continued to pour. Someone tapped her shoulder. Several people had come out of houses with blue vinyl tarps. Sara and Birdie grabbed corners of a tarp and held it sheltering the medic and the woman while another neighbor ran with a tarp elsewhere one would be needed.

  “Hey.” The medic pointed to Sara's face as he noticed Sara's bandaged knee and chin guard. “You hurt too?”

  “No.” Sara waved a hand. “It's… surgery.” Then she noticed that her own bandages were soaked through.

  From where had all the blood come that had soaked that woman? Once the blood was wiped away from her face and body, it showed that she sustained only one bad cut on her chest, and according to the medic, a blow to the top of her head that opened a small bleeder. The medic pulled a fresh pair of gloves out of the trauma kit and, Birdie being nearest, told her to replace the ones she had on. She was to pressure the wounds while he helped the other medic tending to people still in the car.

  On either side of the accident, traffic had backed up. The heavy rain obliterated anything in the distance. What poor timing for strong trade winds and a tropical downpour. Regular traffic was finally being diverted, one at a time from either direction, onto the wide far shoulder of the road through the mud and weeds. Then a couple of cars got stuck in the soupy ruts and that ended the possibility of getting the area cleared.

  Sara and a neighbor held the tarp over their backs and over their heads and stood close to shelter Birdie and the woman and to protect themselves as much as possible.

  Police officers waited beside the left rear passenger trying to comfort him. Both medics peered inside the car, planning to extract the man. Suddenly, one medic backed away and hurled a projectile of vomit into the bushes as he whirled, trying not to let it hit anyone. She had heard this happened often during bad situations, but she had only seen it happen in the movies. Yet, this was not fiction and happening right in front of her. The officer backed away, dazed, walking in circles before he finally calmed. The scene inside that car must surely be gruesome. She wondered about the driver who remained in his seat with no one attending to him. That could only mean one thing.