Cushing shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I’m only here during the day. It’s a public place, pretty crowded. A guard would draw attention, hurt the company. But I definitely want protection in Waimea, at the house.”
With that, Kawika noticed, Cushing’s agitation began to increase again.
6Waikoloa Village
Cushing locked the KKL office door behind Kawika and Tommy. Now he was alone. He picked up the phone and dialed quickly, pounding his desk and muttering, “Shit shit shit,” as he waited for an answer. Finally it came.
“Yeah.”
“Rocco, where’ve you been?” Cushing demanded. “I’ve been calling all day.”
“Hapuna Beach, remember? But I heard the news. Heard the details too.”
“You didn’t do it, did you?”
“The fuck. How could I? It isn’t time yet. You haven’t given me the stuff.”
“Then get off the island,” Cushing said. “We’ll talk later.”
“Wait a minute. Who did it?”
“I don’t know who did it, Rocco! Just get off the island. Now.”
“You didn’t double-book this, did you? You’re not trying to stiff me?”
“No. I told you, I don’t know who fucking did it! Someone else killed him—not you, not me—someone else.”
“Really? Funny how they knew your exact plan.”
7Waimea to Puakō
“HHH? You’re kidding,” Tanaka snorted. “You won’t see the joke, Kawika. You’re not old enough. But HHH was Hubert Horatio Humphrey. The Happy Warrior, people called him. The Happy Warrior instead of Kamehameha, the Rainbow Warrior. These people are clueless. Named themselves for a dead haole politician and probably don’t even know it.”
With Tommy behind the wheel, driving down the grassy mountainside from Cushing’s office, toward the sea and the setting sun, keeping an eye out for the green flash, Kawika heard Tanaka’s snort distinctly over the phone, all the way from Hilo. “It stands for Hui Heiau Hawai‘i,” Kawika explained. He pronounced it in Hawaiian, with “v” for w. “Hawaii Temple Association, or Group for Hawaiian Temples—something like that.”
Tanaka grunted. “Found the guy yet?” he asked, moving on to Peter Pukui.
“No,” Kawika said. “Waimea cops have looked. They’ve turned Kawaihae upside down. No one’s seen him. Not his girlfriend either—a Melanie Munu. She’s a big part of HHH too, apparently. They haven’t come to work, haven’t been home. Not for days.”
“Catch a plane?”
“Only if they had fake IDs. No record with the airlines. We’re talking to the charters and private pilots.”
“Probably hiding,” Tanaka guessed. “The Big Island’s a big island.”
“Might’ve taken a boat,” Kawika said. “He works at the harbor. We’re checking. Checking on a Mr. Shimazu too. Shimazu Makoto. He leads the Japanese investors. He was here yesterday, but he flew home to Tokyo at eight this morning.”
“Conveniently.”
“Yeah, we’re thinking that too.”
“That all you got right now?”
“Just about. Headed for my dad’s.”
“Well, I’ve got something for you,” Tanaka said. “From the mainland. Fortunato had trouble before he came here. Developing a resort in Washington, up in the mountains. Place called the Methow Valley.” Tanaka pronounced it “METH-ow.”
“You know it?” Tanaka asked.
“‘MET-how,’” Kawika corrected. “Yeah, I know it. I’ve been there. It’s in the North Cascades. When was this?”
“Five years ago—1997. Got himself prosecuted too. And guess why? He desecrated a Native American cultural site.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Tanaka assured him. “He found an old shelter in the rocks, right in the middle of a resort he was planning. Ancient wintering spot, apparently. Dated back hundreds of years. Turned out to be important—helped prove some Tribe’s land claim or something. Anyway, Fortunato dynamited the sucker. Blasted it sky high. The Feds were all over him for it.”
“Did he do time?”
“Nope. Beat the rap—charges dropped at trial. Government couldn’t agree with itself apparently. Justice Department called it a crime. Interior Department waffled, said the site wasn’t protected, wasn’t necessarily sacred anyway. Can’t desecrate something that’s not sacred, I guess. Anyway, Ralph’s company pleaded to false statements. That was it.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, but get this: the resort went under. Down the tube. Development company failed, went bankrupt. Ralph picked up, moved on, moved here. Sayonara. Aloha.”
“This is weird,” Kawika said. “I can’t believe he’d bulldoze the heiau after that.”
“History repeats itself,” said Tanaka.
“Doesn’t make sense.”
“It might,” Tanaka said. “Maybe he likes killing resorts more than completing them. Found the heiau, saw his chance. Old dog, old trick.”
“But why?”
“Don’t know,” Tanaka replied. “You’re the detective.”
“Thanks.”
“By the way,” Tanaka added, “We say ‘hui’ all the time, but out of curiosity I just double-checked it in the dictionary. ‘Group, union, association formed to pursue a common undertaking.’”
“Yeah, that’s what I said—could mean association, group.”
“Could mean something else, Kawika. How about ‘gambling club?’ Or ‘tong?’”
“Get outta here.”
“Just watch your back, that’s all I’m saying. You’re in Chinatown again.”
“The International District, Terry, the International District.”
“Whatever. Say hi to your dad for me. And tell him: guys fishing in our spot last night? Caught a hundred-ten-pound ulua.”
“Big one,” Kawika responded.
“Yeah,” said Tanaka. “Big one that forgot to watch its back.”
Tommy had overheard most of the conversation. “So,” he asked, when Kawika hung up, “Captain Tanaka, he’s like your uncle or something? Not like a real boss?”
Kawika laughed. “More like everyone’s uncle and everyone’s boss,” he said. “We don’t find the killer fast, you’ll see for yourself.”
8Waipi‘o
Kawika wasn’t Tanaka’s only Hawaiian detective—or his only ambitious one. There was also Sammy Kā‘ai. Sammy was older than Kawika, rugged in appearance and much more experienced. He, too, sought Tanaka’s favor and resented what he considered Kawika’s unearned access to it. Sammy tended to misinterpret facts at the station; he imagined Kawika had received a plum assignment, for example, failing to see that Tanaka wanted his most experienced—and toughest—detectives to focus on Shark Cliff. But Sammy was a superb interpreter of facts in the field.
On the day Kawika flew to South Kohala, Sammy decided to revisit the rocky beach at Shark Cliff and take another look. He wanted the helicopter for transport but arrived at work to find it gone with Kawika. He asked for the police launch, the boat they’d taken the first time, but it was out rescuing a sailboat that had wrecked on Hilo’s breakwater in the night. Sammy couldn’t even get
