“The pilot also talked about shops and restaurants.”
“The Aloha Tower Marketplace opened in nineteen ninety-four. But that’s just one feature. The Hawaii Maritime Center is there, and the historic vessel
“I think they do that in Baltimore. My earphones were pretty buzzy. I missed a lot of the commentary. We also flew over something called the Punchbowl.”
The National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific. A final resting place for American soldiers. I didn’t say it.
“And we saw another lighthouse.”
“At Makapu’u Point?”
“I think so. And Mount Olomana. Cool name. Easy to remember.”
“That’s over here, on the windward side of the island.”
“The pilot said there was an awesome trail to the summit. I might try hiking it. And we overflew a place where some Hawaiian king won a battle to unite the islands. Didn’t catch his name or who he was fighting. But I’m guessing he won.”
“Nu’uanu Pali. Ready for some history?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“In seventeen ninety-five King Kamehameha I sailed from his home island of Hawaii, leading an army of about ten thousand soldiers. After conquering the islands of Maui and Molokai, he moved on to Oahu. The defenders of Oahu, led by Kalanikupule, became trapped at Nu’uanu Pali. Kamehameha drove more than four hundred of them over the cliff to their deaths.”
“Brutal.”
“But effective.”
“Will that be on the quiz?”
“Yes.”
For dessert we shared an order of cocolatta, a vanilla bean ice cream–coconut creation that filled us with awe. Our waiter, Fabio, provided instruction on topping the concoction with juice squeezed from fresh limes.
Yeah. Fabio. Bleached hair, unbuttoned shirt, puka beads and all.
Driving home we laughed until our sides hurt.
WEDNESDAY I WAS BACK AT THE CIL BY NINE.
Danny was in his office, hunched over his desk. He spun a wheelie with his chair when I entered.
“Aloha.” Beaming.
“You look like one of those obnoxious smiley-face logos.”
I’d slept badly, awakened with bongos thumping in my head. The drive into Honolulu hadn’t helped.
“I feel happy.” Danny spread both arms and feet.
“And pretty, and witty, and gay?” Shoving aside journals, I dropped onto a love seat many years past its shelf life.
“Are we having a grumpy-pants day?”
“Headache.”
“Did the ladies enjoy a hearty night out?”
“Katy downed the ten-gallon mai tai, not me.” Rubbing circles on my temples. “What brings such glee into your world?”
“I finally got the poop on the Huey crash.”
“The chopper transporting Spider Lowery from Long Binh?”
“The very one.”
“And?”
“According to the REFNO, the fifth body was never recovered.”
Danny used the shortened version of “reference number.” REFNO files contain information on all military misadventures, including the names of those who died, those who survived, the location, the timing, the aircraft type, the artifacts recovered—all known facts concerning an incident.
“The missing crew member?”
“The maintenance specialist.”
“Do you have a name?”
Danny’s grin stretched so wide I thought his head might split and the top fall off, as in one of those Monty Python animation sequences. Maybe I was projecting.
