Big Island Blues

by Terry Ambrose

  How true, I thought. I sent a text to Donny asking whether he had any new information about where the big rendezvous might be taking place.

  His response was immediate. “bk in 1 min”

  “Great,” I said, “I’m on hold while Donny does who knows what. Benni’s hoping he’ll want to help out. I’m still skeptical. She also said Warren wasn’t very trustworthy.”

  Alexander snorted. “And that surprises you? McKenna, the more I think about it, they gotta be goin’ to South Point. I think you and Tiny was right about why this guy picked that spot.”

  My phone chirped. “Donny’s back.” I tapped the screen to view the message.

  —hez at south point

  —Are you sure?

  —duh...yes

  “Looks like we have confirmation,” I said. “Donny says he’s positive that’s where Warren is. How can he be so sure?”

  “The little bastard probably bugged his dad’s phone.”

  “Warren doesn’t carry a phone, remember?” I raised an eyebrow at Alexander, but he wasn’t watching me. We were both getting crabbier by the minute and if Donny could find Warren so easily, I didn’t want to know how he did it. I thought it best to drop the subject.

  Alexander gunned the engine and we were off. It was four-thirty and we still had to drive this narrow road to reach our destination. After fifteen minutes of rural homesteads and pastureland with grazing cattle, I spotted an old wind farm in the distance. The windmills stood like sentries awaiting an order that would never come.

  On one particularly narrow section of road, we had to pull to one side when a white Landrover barreled in our direction. “Locals,” I muttered.

  A mile later, a beaten-up blue car fishtailed around the turn ahead of us. Alexander pulled to one side as the car flashed past. The driver was an accident looking for a place to happen in my book. “Did you see that front end? Wonder how many cars he’s hit.”

  Alexander’s eyes flicked in the direction of the rearview mirror a couple of times. “Honolulu drivers are bad. But, they ain’t got nothin’ on these guys.”

  At 5:04, we rolled into a dirt parking lot where an old tan Corolla was parked. I followed the asphalt road with my gaze until the road ended where rocks large enough to tear out a car’s underside took over. Only a four-wheel drive could safely make it down to the lower dirt parking lot. An old wooden crane’s skeleton stood guard at the edge of a lava cliff overlooking the pink-tinged ocean’s surface. It was already first light. Were we too late? How many years had that crane’s skeleton watched over South Point? How many deaths had the sentry witnessed? Had there been more today?

  Two figures huddled together against a stiff and steady wind. As we walked to meet them, the wind felt cold, harsh, and foreboding. I shivered at a sudden chill in my spine. “Where’s Warren?” I asked of no one in particular. “What about Shaw?”

  Alexander ignored me. He had his eyes fixed on the two figures as he marched forward. Halfway down the incline to the parking lot, I recognized Haiku. He had his arms wrapped around a young woman whose long black hair flapped horizontally in the wind. It had to be Andi. It had to.

  The closer we got, the more resemblance I saw. Hair, mouth, eyes. So much like her mother. Talk about a stunning beauty. I could scarcely believe we’d found her alive. I longed to run forward and pull her into my arms, tell her how happy I was we’d made it in time, then I saw the body on the ground.

  No more than a few feet from Andi and Haiku lay Warren. Even from twenty feet away I knew he was dead. Neither Haiku nor Andi made a move to touch or comfort him. A dark stream of blood trickled across the rocks beneath the corpse. As we approached, Andi turned in our direction, clutched her arms over her chest, and stood rigid.

  I heard Haiku’s voice for the first time. “That’s your Uncle Alexander from Honolulu.”

  The girl backed away when Alexander rushed forward. He stopped, his arms outstretched, waiting. “I know this is a lot to take in,” he said, “but your mom asked me and McKenna to bring you home.”

  Recognition spread across her face. “You’re the one who sent me the pearl necklace for my sixteenth birthday.” She came forward and melted into his arms.

  Tears welled in my eyes as I watched Alexander bite his lower lip and solemnly nod. His jaw quivered with words he could not say as he clutched his niece.

  Andi’s olive skin and jet black hair were the perfect accents to her deep brown eyes and delicate facial features. Yet, despite all that beauty, this girl had taken on the almost impossible quest of stopping a determined killer. Her sobs carried on the wind as though they might be felt a thousand miles away.

  “My dad’s dead . . . that man shot him . . . then . . .” She pointed a quivering hand at a spot near the rocks behind us, then swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Behind a block of lava five-feet across is where a second body lay. The legs were the first thing I saw. Right leg straight, left crooked beneath. Was it Shaw? Rocks contorted the body into an impossible position. It might only be the wind, but I swear the chill of death stroked my back as I approached. The dead man’s arms were straight out to his sides. I recognized the face and neck tattoo from the photo we’d seen at Carla’s. There was no gun, but there was an expended cartridge on the rocks next to the body. When the cops combed the area, how many more would they find?

  “Swenson,” Haiku murmured. He stood next to me and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I shot him.”

  “Haiku!” Andi cried.

  “I shot him.” Haiku’s voice was firm, his gaze impassive. “He had a gun. We gave him the guitar, but he shot Warren anyway. That’s when I got him. The woman who was with him grabbed the gun and the guitar and ran away. I wasn’t about to shoot her in the back. She can have the damn thing.”

  Somehow, this didn’t add up. Andi’s reaction. Warren dead. For no reason? “Where’s Shaw? Where’s your gun?”

  Haiku walked over to Warren’s body and gazed down. “In the end, he gave his life to save his daughter. I respect that. Benni needs to know how good he was. You be sure to tell her.”

  The mournful wail of a police siren carried in on the wind. Out here, on this desolate plain, that sound might carry for miles. How much time did I have? And, why hadn’t Haiku answered my question? Couldn’t anybody on this damn island tell the truth?

  Alexander asked Andi, “You wanna wait in the car?” When she nodded, he led her away, but not before glancing at me to signal he was giving me time to quiz Haiku. Once the cops arrived, all bets would be off.

  With Alexander and Andi out of earshot, I said, “Why won’t you be able to tell Benni about Warren yourself?”

  “I’m going to be busy with the police for a while. It’s best if she and Andi stay away.” Haiku dipped his head at Swenson’s body. Dust picked up by the wind swirled over the figure. “Marylyn must have been his mother.”

  “Marylyn? You’re sure she’s the one who was here?”

  “It was her. Terrible thing, having to see your child die—even if he was a ruthless bastard.”

  I thought about Haiku’s story. Why did he think Marylyn was Swenson’s mother? “How do you know that?”

  “Know what? That he was a ruthless bastard? Andi and I were standing here with Warren. He drove her down from Kona. Anyway, the three of us saw this old four-by-four drive in. It had enough clearance so it wouldn’t bottom out on the rocks. At first, we thought it was Swenson, but there was a woman with him. That’s what threw us. I had the gun in the back of my waistband, but Swenson got the drop on us when they got out of the car. The woman hung back. It was Swenson who told Warren to bring the guitar over. I guess he figured I might try to jump him or something. Anyway, Warren took the guitar over to Swenson. When Warren was a few feet away, he pulled out that damn amulet he always wore and held it out in front of him. He started chanting and Swenson freaked out. He shot Warren, almost point blank. That’s when I pulled my gun and dropped Swenson.”


  “Seriously, Haiku? Do you really think this B-movie gangster talk will convince the cops you’re a tough guy?”

  His face flushed bright red. “Sorry.” He glanced off toward the ocean.

  None of this made sense. I saw a two-inch circular green stone in Warren’s hand. The amulet, but where was the gun? “Why didn’t Swenson shoot you?” I asked. “Or Andi—before he went down?”

  Haiku glared at me. “How the hell should I know? Maybe he was having some kind of meet-your-maker moment or something. All I know is that when he went down, Marylyn jumped out of the car and ran to him.”

  “Haiku, a moment ago you said ‘they’ got out of the car. As in, together.”

  “I did? I meant, she jumped out of the vehicle when Swenson got shot. He was bleeding like crazy—getting weaker by the second. You know, I thought she was going to help him, but instead she grabbed his gun and pointed it at Andi. She’s weird, I tell you. She had this tattoo of a black rose on her neck.”

  “Was the tattoo on the left side?”

  He paused and thought for a moment. “Yeah, how’d you know? You met her? She’s pretty hard to miss with the tattoo and all the other stuff goin on.”

  Hell, yes, I’d met her. In the High Tide Surf Shop. “What else? What’s all the other stuff you mentioned?”

  “Crazy in the eyes. That’s what she was. She never looked directly at anyone. It was like she couldn’t stand to look anywhere for more than a couple of seconds. When she was waving that gun around, I wasn’t sure what she was going to do. I didn’t think she could hit a damn thing, but I wasn’t about to risk Andi’s life.”

  The first full rays of sun spread across the ocean. No more hiding, it was time for the truth. “You still didn’t explain how you know she was his mother.”

  “Oh, he called her ‘Momma’ just before he died and said he’d failed her. That’s when she grabbed the guitar and hightailed it to the car. I wasn’t about to stop her when she drove away. Besides, I was busy trying to save Warren. He was already gone, though.”

  “You were doing CPR?”

  “No.” Haiku turned away as though thinking up his next lie. “But, I did try to stop the bleeding.”

  That was such BS. A police car’s lights flashed in the distance. The matchbox-sized car crawled along the narrow road. We had another few minutes at the most. “You might want to think about what you’ve said, Haiku. You only have blood on your fingertips. I think you’d be better off telling the cops you checked for a pulse and there wasn’t one.”

  He stared at his hands. “Shit.”

  “Yeah, not enough blood to support your story. I understand that you want to protect your friend, but lying about who shot Swenson isn’t going to help anyone. If you didn’t do anything, I understand. People get scared and freeze up. You and I both know Shaw’s the one who did this. Did he go after Marylyn?”

  Haiku stood in silence, his clothes whipping in the wind.

  “Shaw’s still got the gun, doesn’t he?” I asked. “Admit it, he’s the one who shot Swenson, not you.” In that moment, I could have kicked myself for letting Shaw get away from us at Tiny’s.

  “It was my gun,” Haiku said. “Besides, he has to keep Andi safe.”

  “Goddammit, Haiku! What good is it going to do to let Shaw go off and kill Swenson’s mother? He’ll get life and you’ll feel guilty for letting him do it. I get it. I’ve wanted revenge on people before, but this isn’t the way.” I pointed to where Andi stood with Alexander. “That girl lost one father already. Do you think she deserves to lose another? You think Andi’s going to tell the cops the same bullshit you just gave me? They will figure this out. You don’t want her lying to the police. Then, she goes to jail, too. Man up and tell the truth.”

  Haiku hung his head. “I gave Shaw the keys to my car so he could go after her. She got a head start because of me. I’m the one who held him back. If it wasn’t for me, this would all be over. I got no idea where he’s gonna go.”

  “What about Carla? Would he ask her for help?” I asked.

  He thought for a moment. “Maybe. He loves that girl something fierce. He might call her.”

  “What’s he carrying? How much ammunition does he have?”

  “Shaw put three—no, four bullets in Swenson. I think he missed on the first shot.”

  “Does he have more? In the car, maybe?”

  Haiku shook his head. “I only had six bullets for that old Colt and we left Tiny’s in such a hurry that he didn’t have time to grab his Glock or the Winchester.”

  I remembered the ride in from Shaw’s ranch to Carla’s. He hadn’t loaded any firearms in his truck. He must have had them concealed. Shaw had been “off the grid” for many years; I’d bet he didn’t have a gun permit. In some states, Shaw could get away with that. Not here. In this state, he’d be in plenty of trouble on the weapons charges alone. “You said the guns are in his truck, yah?”

  “He started carrying after the incident on the ranch.”

  “That means he’ll be heading back to his truck before he goes anywhere else.”

  “Suppose so.” Haiku said. “You know, brah, he doesn’t know where Marylyn lives. He’s gonna have to track her down.”

  The cops parked sideways in the road, lights flashing a clear come-no-closer warning to any who dared approach. Even from the upper parking lot, one of the officers would surely see Haiku if he approached the body. We were out of time. While the two cops assessed the situation in the upper parking lot, I took one last run at Haiku’s story. “How long ago did this happen?”

  The way I figured it, the cops had walked into a much larger situation than they’d anticipated. These two guys needed help to cover the crime scene, but those reinforcements would take time to get here.

  “If Shaw didn’t catch up to Marylyn, they’re both past South Point Road by now,” said Haiku. “The cops can’t do much until those two meet up. Shaw’s gonna get his own weapons first, then find that bitch and kill her. He’ll disappear afterwards.”

  Just like twenty-two years ago, I thought. And ruin Andi’s life all over again.

  I saw the two cops moving swiftly toward us, spreading out as they closed in. They were both big, armed, and trained. I was happy to let them take over. Their cautious movements made it obvious they’d want to neutralize all of the threats first.

  One of the cops was talking into the radio on his shoulder as the other warned us to stand still. However long it took for backup to get here was how long I thought Haiku might be a free man. Unless he changed his story and told the truth. Without thinking, I raised my hands. I never even looked at Haiku, but did hear his footsteps crunching on the dirt as he lumbered away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The first name tag I made out was for Officer Lee. He had the typical bronzed skin of a local gained from a combination of genetics and time spent in the sun. He rolled his eyes and glanced at his partner, Officer K. Brandon. He said, “It’s gonna be one of those kinda days, brah.”

  Brandon was a big man with a short neck and huge shoulders. He shook his square head as he gazed after Haiku and sighed. “Isn’t that your cousin?”

  I turned to see how far Haiku had gotten. Where the hell did he think he was going? Unless he did the cliff dive off the crane, there was no escape.

  Lee, who was around six foot tall but a thinner build than Brandon, sighed. “Okay, I’ll get him.”

  While Lee was off rounding up Haiku, Brandon quickly determined I was a witness, not a perpetrator, and went to check out the bodies. Remaining grim, he called in to report the situation. He had just finished talking when Lee returned with Haiku in tow. Lee tilted his head toward the bodies; Brandon shook his in return. Lee pulled Haiku along as he surveyed the scene.

  “You’re not going to cuff him?” I asked, completely incredulous that a man fleeing the scene of a double homicide wasn’t under lock and key.

  “Not yet.” Lee, who still gripped Haiku’s flabby arm, wiggled his finger
s. “You put on some pounds, Cousin. You gonna do mo bettah cutting back on the beer. Yah?”

  Haiku blushed, “I’m sorry, Del, I saw you and panicked. If your mom finds out you arrested me for murder, she’ll die.”

  “I ain’t arresting you for nothing, Cousin.”

  “Why not?” Haiku pulled away from Lee’s grasp and stared at him, indignant. “I’m not dangerous enough?”

  The two cops and I exchanged a glance during which I wanted to make a little circle with my finger around my ear. Another nut case. However, as the outsider, it was best I just sit this one out. Quite frankly, one of my New Year’s Resolutions had been to stop pissing off island cops. When I did that on Kauai it nearly got me thrown in jail—and killed. So far this year, I’d made it through five months, which made me proud of my accomplishment.

  “Cousin,” said Lee, “you don’t have a gun. Unless you had a life-changing experience, you’ve always been scared to death of them and, at least until two years ago, you’d never shot one in your life.”

  “The gun was mine!” Haiku protested.

  Lee glanced at his partner. “Hold up some fingers.”

  Brandon raised his hand in the shaka sign—index finger and pinky up, all the rest folded over.

  “How many, Cousin?”

  Haiku peered at Brandon’s raised hand. He squinted for a few seconds, then blurted, “Four!”

  Brandon hung his head and dropped his hand to his side. He surveyed the scene. “So we got two dead guys, no gun, and no suspects. But we do have one witness who can’t see ten feet and another who saw . . .?”

  I rationalized that their disappointment wasn’t the same thing as irritation. Besides, their disappointment wasn’t my fault. “I got here after the fact.”

  “So you saw nothing?” asked Brandon.

  “Well, I think I know who the shooter is. I’m also pretty sure a woman named Marylyn—she works at the High Tide Surf Shop in Kona—is involved. She’s that one’s mother.” I gestured at Swenson’s body.