“So you didn’t see the actual killing?” Kawika asked.
“Not exactly,” Jason said. “But I did see the blow. It was like someone plunging a harpoon into a whale, like in a movie.”
As soon as the other man was lying on the ground, Jason said—and Patience typed—the man who’d pushed him grabbed the pole, raised it above his head, and plunged it straight down with great force. Then the killer bent down and did things Jason couldn’t see. “After that he walked toward the golf path. I stayed out of sight. I thought he might kill me too, if he saw me.”
Kawika looked at him. “Why didn’t you call the police?”
“Well, I didn’t want to get involved. How do you think the cops would treat me? I’m the guy who walks along the highway without a shirt. They’d treat me like a bum. They’d probably beat me up.”
“Patience, don’t add the last part, okay?”
Instead, she typed:
I considered calling the police and was still considering doing so when I met Detective Wong. My reluctance reflected concern for my safety if I were identified as an eyewitness to a killing.
When she’d finished drafting the statement and read it aloud, Patience printed it, and Jason Hare signed it on her teak table. “Thankee kindly, ma’am,” he said slyly. “That’s a right-purty statement. Sounds just like me.” Handing the statement to Kawika, he asked, “Can I go now, Detective? Got lots of traps to check.”
“Yes, you’re free to go tonight. But this statement is just preliminary. You’re an eyewitness. We need to interview you at the station,” Kawika said. “Up in Waimea.”
“I don’t have a car.”
“We’ll pick you up. You have a phone?”
“No.”
“How do we reach you?”
“Just call Kohala Kats, I guess. They always manage to find me.”
“Okay,” Kawika said, and stood up. “Then stay in touch with them. We’ll want to talk with you soon.”
The trapper nodded, also stood, picked up his trap, and started to leave. Patience restrained him gently with a hand on his arm.
“Mr. Hare?” she said. “Wait a minute, please.” She walked indoors, returning with her checkbook. “I’d like to make a contribution to your organization. To thank you for helping the cats.”
“Why, thank you, ma’am,” the trapper said. “Remember, that’s Kohala Kats, two Ks.”
16The Mauna Lani
The moment Jason Hare departed, Kawika and Patience headed straight for her bedroom. Going back outdoors wasn’t even mentioned. Within a minute she was on top of him, rocking back and forth. Within another minute she groaned sharply, convulsed, then began laughing—laughing and laughing as she collapsed against his chest.
“Oops,” she said, embarrassed. “I wasn’t expecting that quite so soon.”
“You—?” Kawika started to ask.
“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding her head against his. “Guess I’m Impy tonight. Sorry.”
Kawika held her and began to laugh too. “God,” he said, the two of them chuckling together now. “What a night.”
A few minutes later it was Kawika’s turn to groan.
“P—” he began, then muffled his moan with a pillow.
“What?” she laughed, looking up. “What did you call me? ‘P?’ That’s a new one!”
Now Kawika felt embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said. “I was thinking Patience-and-Impy-and-Flea, all confused, and then when I said something aloud, it came out P.”
“P,” she said, trying it out. “P. I have to tell you, I kind of like it.” He hadn’t expected they’d be laughing in bed, but they were. They kissed and lay close. She fell asleep, but Kawika stayed awake for some time, listening to the waves, to her breathing, to his own heartbeats. He began to feel troubled. He’d known he would.
When Patience awoke in the night, Kawika was staring at the ceiling fan. “Just thinking,” he said, turning to her and kissing the top of her head.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.
He kissed her lips, smiled. “Depends on what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking Jason Hare lied to us.”
“Me too.”
“What’s your reason?” she asked. “Tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”
“Because,” he replied, “if he was scared three days ago and every day since, why wasn’t he scared tonight? He didn’t ask for protection or even ask to keep his statement confidential.”
“You mean, he’s still an eyewitness? Someone the killer would try to silence?”
“Exactly,” replied Kawika. “He didn’t make that story up. Not all of it, at least. It fits with the autopsy; Fortunato’s left wrist was cuffed twice, for example. So he saw something. And he obviously does trap cats here at night, so he was in a position to see it. Yet he’s not afraid of the killer now, if he ever was.”
“Well, that fits with what’s bothering me. He’s unbalanced, Kawika. If you lived in South Kohala, you’d see him out on the highway in the sun, no hat, walking along half naked. His skin looks like leather. He’s nuts, Kawika. Or at least a bit loony.”
“Okay. And so?”
“Well—don’t laugh—maybe he suffers from Lizzie Borden Syndrome. You know, loves animals, incapable of loving people.”
“Lizzie Borden, as in ‘Lizzie Borden took an ax, gave her mother forty whacks?’”
“Right. She killed her parents, got acquitted, inherited their fortune, then left it to charity to prevent cruelty to animals.”
“You think he didn’t care, seeing someone murdered?” Kawika asked.
“Worse. He’s an eyewitness who’s not afraid of the killer—as you say—and he lives in Kawaihae.”
“Sort of, if he lives anywhere.”
“Well,” she said, “Peter Pukui lives in Kawaihae too, right?”
“So?”
“So, I bet Jason Hare belongs to HHH. I bet he’s Peter Pukui’s accomplice.”
Kawika snorted, jostling her with the arm he kept tight about her. “C’mon, Patience,” he said dismissively.
“P,” she insisted. “I earned that nickname honorably.”
“All right, P.” He laughed and jostled her again, kissed her. “Jason Hare wouldn’t belong to HHH. He
