“Fair enough,” said Pohano. “Read the two reports, compare them. Decide for yourselves. But remember, the private one was procured by fraud. The University’s wasn’t.”
“That’s one crime out of three,” Kawika noted. “What’s next?”
“Next,” Pohano went on, “we’ve got the denial of rights to ahupua‘a tenants. The law is arcane, but perhaps Ms. Ka‘aukai explained it?” Kawika nodded. “Good. Well, the tenants wanted to hunt wild pigs and goats. Mr. Fortunato said the tenants weren’t legitimate—that they couldn’t trace their rights back. And Mr. Fortunato claimed they’d have no right to hunt the pigs and goats anyway, because the pigs and goats aren’t indigenous. They’re descended from ones Captain Vancouver gave Kamehameha. Finally, Mr. Fortunato claimed that even legitimate tenants couldn’t hunt with rifles or bows, because they aren’t traditional. He said they’d have to use old Hawaiian spears—javelins.”
The unspoken suggestion hung in the air: someone did use a javelin.
“The dispute grew heated,” Pohano added. “But of course it isn’t really about hunting.”
“Because no one would want to play golf or buy a home in the middle of a bunch of hunters?” Carolyn suggested.
“Exactly, Ms. Ka‘aukai. The resort can’t sell much real estate or get financed if the hunting rights are established.”
“Who are these hunters?” Kawika asked.
“We don’t know them all,” Pohano said. “They formed a group in Waimea. It includes some Waimea police officers.”
“You live here, you know the man.” Tommy’s words came unbidden to Kawika’s thoughts.
Pohano continued, “By the way, I also represent Peter Pukui’s group on destruction of the heiau. We’re challenging the permit. Not for bribery—we couldn’t touch that without betraying our sources, putting them in danger. No, strictly on procedural grounds: lack of notice, defects in the record, arbitrary and capricious action—that sort of thing.”
Pohano must have seen the suspicion in Kawika’s eyes. He quickly added, “You wonder why we’d challenge the permit after the heiau’s already destroyed?”
“No,” said Kawika. “I’m wondering who pays you. And I’m wondering what any of this has to do with the Māhele—with Fortunato’s title to the land.”
“I’m coming to that,” replied Pohano. “I’m paid by other clients, ones who care about title to the land. A couple from California named Murphy. Perhaps you’ve heard of them?”
Kawika and Tanaka stared at Pohano, then at one another. Meanwhile Carolyn wrote herself a note: Destroy Heiau = Federal crime?
“The Murphys are bankrolling other people’s lawsuits?” Kawika finally asked, turning to Pohano again. “I thought they were suing Fortunato themselves.”
“They are,” replied Pohano. “Their suit will show that KKL lacks title to the land. The defect goes back to the Great Māhele. The Māhele allocated the land to a chief named Ku‘umoku. But the chief’s heirs didn’t live on it—it was mostly hard lava—and someone else eventually claimed it. That family kept handing it down and finally sold it without ever gaining title. And eventually someone else, a Thomas Gray over in South Kohala, sold it to Mr. Fortunato.”
“Didn’t anyone try to clear title in court?” Tanaka asked.
Pohano smiled. “In fact,” he said, “the original seller tried that, but without giving proper notice to Ku‘umoku’s heirs. He knew who some were. But he never served them with papers. He just published a notice in the newspaper, and that’s not good enough. So it’s a showstopper. Without valid title Mr. Fortunato’s company can’t sell real estate. They can’t finance the development.”
“They could pay the heirs to settle the lawsuit, couldn’t they?” Tanaka asked. “It doesn’t sound like Fortunato broke any law. He sounds like the victim: paid good money but didn’t get good title.”
“Ah, but he did break the law,” Pohano replied. “The law against fraud. He knew the title was bad when he bought the land. And—here’s the fraud—he even promised to pay someone to expose that fact, on command, the moment he gave the order.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Mr. Fortunato was a crook. He had some crooked scheme in mind.”
“How do you know this even happened?”
“Because the woman he promised to pay if she exposed the bad title almost became my client. I’m not going to name her. The important point is that Mr. Fortunato was going to pay her to expose his defective title. Which means he was defrauding someone else, probably his investors. And that provides a motive for murder.”
Kawika immediately became suspicious. “Were you in on this scam?” he asked.
“Absolutely not!” Pohano insisted. “She didn’t tell me about her deal with Mr. Fortunato. She just said she was an heir of Chief Ku‘umoku and wanted to sue to invalidate KKL’s title. I knew her from HHH, Peter Pukui’s group. I trusted her. I thought it was all legit.”
“How’d you learn it wasn’t?”
“Well, as I’ve told you, I was preparing the Murphys’ suit. We’d already found an heir of Chief Ku‘umoku, a guy from Honolulu who’d be our lead plaintiff. We didn’t need any more Ku‘umoku heirs for the suit, but I told this woman she could become a co-plaintiff if she wanted, and the Murphys would pay for it. But I didn’t hear from her again—until Mr. Fortunato was killed, that is. Then she came back. She was afraid she’d be a suspect.”
“Why would we suspect her?” Kawika asked. “We didn’t know anything about this.”
“Mr. Fortunato had assaulted her, days before he died. She got treatment at the hospital. She thought the doctor would report it.”
No one spoke for a moment. “Apparently the doctor didn’t,” Tanaka said, clearing his throat. “You’re going to have to tell us more, Mr. Pohano.”
Pohano paused to pour water from a pitcher on the table. His hand shook; everyone could see. “After our first meeting,” Pohano began, “this woman apparently went straight to Mr. Fortunato and told him I already represented someone who would expose his faulty title. So her doing so would be redundant. Mr. Fortunato told her the deal was off, in that event. He refused to pay her—sort of a pattern with him. Anyway, there was an altercation. In Mr. Fortunato’s motor vehicle.”
“That’s how she
