The line was silent.
“Aloha?” Tanaka asked. “You still there, Counselor?”
“I think I should bid you good day, Captain.”
“Okay. But tell your client this: Joan Malo sends him greetings.”
Kawika had not misrepresented Cushing’s words. He’d repeated them exactly, triggering Tanaka’s indignation—and prudery. That’s why, in the night, Tanaka had already set his heart against Cushing: This is a bad man. I won’t allow him to destroy Kawika.
Cushing’s insults to Joan Malo made Tanaka choose to communicate—not conceal—his hostility and its source. To avenge an insult, Tanaka reasoned, it isn’t enough just to inflict punishment. The wrongdoer must also realize that the punishment is actually vengeance.
This logic satisfied Tanaka deeply. It also puzzled him a bit. He wasn’t sure he’d thought it up. Had he remembered it from somewhere? Read it someplace? It did seem to ring a distant bell.
46Hilo
Things got worse. Sammy couldn’t find Peter Pukui, who hadn’t turned up at his house in Kawaihae, nor had Melanie Munu. The lawyer who’d arranged Pukui’s bail said he’d taken Pukui to the lawyer’s home outside Hilo that first night, settled him outdoors on the covered sleeping porch, found him gone in the morning. Assumed he’d headed home, probably hitchhiking.
Sammy assured Tanaka he’d already run the license plate of the young men who’d brought cash for Pukui’s bail. But he hadn’t gotten far at the time. The car was registered to a granny down in Pāhoa, a small town in Puna. She’d recently fled the area, destination unknown, for fear of an approaching lava flow, one that actually never got past the village outskirts. No one in her ‘ohana knew where to find her, but they knew she had a grand-nephew—Akela, Akoni, or Alika something—who might live in Kea‘au or Kurtistown or somewhere like that in Puna, or maybe over in the old sugar town of Pahala.
Anyway, that grand-nephew was a bad kid, people said. Very bad. Sometimes he and his buddies had been seen driving the granny’s car in remote areas of Puna, where people tend to remember such things.
Sammy conferred with Tanaka. They didn’t have much to go on besides that license plate. They decided to put out an all-points bulletin, an APB for the whole island. Of course, the APB had to be explained to cops all over the County. “So while we’re at it,” Tanaka told Sammy, “we might as well include Peter Pukui by name in the APB. It’s really him, not the car, we’re trying to find.”
“Melanie too?” Sammy asked.
“Not yet,” Tanaka said. “He wasn’t with her when last seen.”
Word that Pukui was missing spread quickly after that. Tanaka soon received a faxed press release—Call me, Ted Pohano had scrawled on the cover sheet.
Native Hawaiians Demand Suspension and Investigation of Detective Wong, Hilo’s “Killer Cop”
HILO: Sovereignty & Reparations, Hawai‘i’s foremost Native Rights organization, today demanded the immediate suspension and investigation of Detective K. Wong after Hilo police admitted that Native Hawaiian leader Peter Pukui has not been seen alive since police took him into custody near Waipi‘o as part of a Hawaiian-persecuting investigation led by Detective Wong.
Insisting on anonymity for fear of reprisals from Wong, individuals close to the investigation speculate that Pukui, a descendant of Hawaiian royalty, may well have met death by foul play.
“We fear the worst,” said S&R spokesperson and orator Mele Kawena Smith.
“Peter Pukui could be the third Native Hawaiian to die violently in Wong’s investigation into the demise of real estate developer Ralph Fortunato,” Mele Kawena Smith continued. “That’s why Hawaiians all over the state are now calling Detective Wong a ‘killer cop.’”
Tanaka read no further. He put down the press release and called Ted Pohano.
“Good afternoon, Captain,” said Pohano. “You got our press release okay?”
Tanaka had dialed too quickly; just then an e-mail from Tommy appeared on his computer screen. He took a few seconds to read it.
I met the Murphys at their house. Lawyers wouldn’t let them talk. I said RF got snatched from their place, so not talking was a mistake. The Murphys said that’s impossible, but I told them we found his Teva at their door.
The Murphys got upset. Lawyers couldn’t shut them up. They insist RF put on his Tevas. Mr. M even says he walked RF to the gate.
“You still there, Captain?” asked Pohano.
“Sorry, I got distracted. What’s that you said?”
“S&R issued a press release concerning Peter Pukui’s disappearance. It’s a bit critical of Detective Wong. I wanted to give you advance notice as a courtesy, so I faxed you a copy.”
“You faxed me a copy? I haven’t seen it,” Tanaka lied. It was getting to be a habit—lying to protect Kawika. “Critical of Detective Wong, you say? Why? Detective Wong has never even set eyes on Peter Pukui.”
“Yes, but—”
“I can’t understand your targeting Kawika. He’s a Hawaiian—half Hawaiian by birth.”
“Not quite.”
“Oh, I’m sorry—he’s what, three-eighths? Come on. That’s gotta be a lot more than most of your members.”
“You’re probably right. Still, that’s not the—”
“A lot more than you, I bet.”
“Yes, I’ll concede that.”
“Well, if your release is critical of Kawika, I hope you at least included his Hawaiian first name. I’d hate to see you refer to him without that.’”
“As I explained when we met, Captain, our press releases are purely pol—”
“If you’d brought us Peter Pukui when we asked you to, we could’ve questioned him and ruled him out. That would’ve helped us focus on the case against your clients.”
“Wait a minute—what case? Which clients?”
“The Murphys, of course. That’s why I called. I wanted to give you advance notice, as a courtesy. I’m having them arrested.”
“Arrested? You must be joking. For what?”
“For killing Ralph Fortunato.”
“That’s absurd! The Murphys didn’t kill Fortunato.”
“Well, we’re like you,” Tanaka responded, angry and way out on a limb now. “Sometimes we accuse people of killing other people even when we know they didn’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry,” Tanaka assured him. “It’s purely political.”
47Volcanoes National
