Aloha Betrayed (20 page)

Witherspoon ordered the men he’d brought with him to join the others as they piled into vehicles and headed south.

“Why would the kid go into a burning field?” Witherspoon mused aloud.

“For some reason he enjoys playing games in the sugarcane fields,” I answered. “At least according to his father.”

“Seems like a dumb thing for a kid to do,” said Witherspoon.

“He’s just a little boy.”

“Well, his father needs to teach him better.”

There was nothing to gain by debating it with him or pointing out that children have their own reasons for doing what they do, so I walked to Mike, who was busy gathering volunteers and assigning them to search areas on the grid he’d drawn over a map of Maui. The search effort had become large and well organized, thanks to Mike and others, but it was dependent upon the theory that Koko ran away and hid somewhere on Maui.

But what if leaving hadn’t been his choice? What if he’d been abducted by someone with nefarious motives? A child molester perhaps. Or a murderer trying to cover his tracks. If that were the case, he could be hidden away with little or no chance of the police, firefighters, and volunteers ever finding him—
at least soon enough
.

The crowd swelled with each passing minute. The police had done a good job of getting out the word about Koko’s disappearance, and the outpouring of volunteer help was both inspiring and gratifying. There were families, teenagers, single men and women, waiting to be assigned search areas. A few people had brought their dogs on the chance that they might prove useful. The Maui PD had also dispatched a canine unit, which had been sent to the immediate area near the Mohink house after Koko’s father had provided them with an item of his son’s clothing for the dogs to sniff.

And there was Mala’s auntie Edie, who’d arrived a few moments ago, leaning on the arms of two young cousins I’d met at Mala’s house. I went to her.

“How are you?” I asked.

She smiled sweetly at me and said, “I am fine, but I heard about the little lost boy.”

“Yes,” I said, “everyone is so concerned.”

“A child is sacred,” she said. “If anyone has harmed him, that person will be punished.”

“We’re hoping that he just ran away and will be found,” I said, not wanting to feed into the possibility that he’d been snatched.

One of the cousins brought the old woman a folding chair and Auntie Edie lowered her body onto the flimsy seat. She reached beneath her green-and-white shawl and held up a piece of round, charcoal-colored rock. I leaned closer to see what was on it. Within a white circle were two large, round white eyes. The older woman seemed transfixed as she stared at the lava rock, her lips moving as she silently spoke to an unseen person.

The cousin said to me, “She’s invoking the spirit of Uli, Mrs. Fletcher, our mother of creation. She’s asking Uli to provide her calming and peaceful energy to all those searching for the lost boy and to smooth out the problem of his disappearance and bring him home to his family.”

I wanted to say something in response but didn’t want to disturb Auntie Edie and her meditation. Whatever would help bring back Koko alive and well—whether I believed in this sacred Hawaiian goddess or not—was worth pursuing.

“Mrs. Fletcher. You seem to be everywhere.”

I turned at the sound of my name to see Professor Abbott Luzon and his wife, Honi. The professor was dressed in a sport jacket and bow tie, his wife in a flowing yellow sundress, oversized sunglasses, and a tan hat with a large, floppy brim.

“Mr. and Mrs. Luzon,” I said. “Are you part of the search party?”

“Abbott gave a lecture earlier this morning,” Honi said, “or we would have been out here sooner. Any news about the missing boy?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid. But with all these resources looking for him, I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

“Children often do perplexing things,” Luzon said.

“Spoken by a man who has no children,” Honi said with an audible sigh. She addressed me. “They have no idea where he might have run away to?”

“Not at the moment,” I said.

“Is it possible he might have been kidnapped?”

“Kidnapped?” Luzon said. “Who would do such a thing? Is his father rich?”

Honi ignored his question. “I understand you’re investigating the circumstances surrounding Mala Kapule’s death, Mrs. Fletcher. Did I hear that right? Anything new on that front?”

Her query startled me back to that issue. With all the focus on Koko Mohink’s disappearance, I’d forgotten for the moment that Mala’s death remained unresolved.

“I don’t believe so,” I said.

“Smells like the wind has shifted,” Luzon commented.

I turned from them, peered south, and raised my nose to the air. Sure enough, the smoke was moving in our direction, and the odor of the burning cane was getting stronger. When I turned back, I spotted Grace Latimer, Luzon’s graduate assistant and, according to Bob Lowell, his mistress. She stood apart from the crowd, arms crossed, taking in the spectacle unfolding on the campus. I thought she might join me and the Luzons, but instead she walked in the opposite direction and disappeared into the crowd.

Luzon turned his attention to Auntie Edie praying over the lava rock with its two white eyes staring up at her, the symbol of Uli, the Hawaiian goddess of creation and a dozen other mystical powers. I, too, watched her as her brow furrowed, her lips moving silently, her long fingers making signs over the rock. Luzon indicated his amusement with raised eyebrows and a thin smile.

“Do you know Mala’s aunt?” I asked him.

“I introduced myself at the funeral,” he said curtly. “What’s she doing, praying to some god about the missing child?”

“Something like that,” I said, not successful at masking my pique at his snide, condescending tone.

Honi had slipped away while I was speaking with her husband and was headed for the entrance to the horticulture building. As soon as she disappeared inside, Grace Latimer stepped to the professor’s side.

“Hello, Grace,” I said.

“Hello, Mrs. Fletcher.” She said to Luzon, “Hadn’t we better get to work on the proposal?”

“Yes, I suppose we should.” He seemed suddenly aware that his wife was no longer with us. “Did you see where Honi went?” he asked me.

“I saw her go into that building,” I said.

“We can get to it later,” Luzon told Grace.

With that, he placed his hand on her elbow and guided her away from me.

The aroma of smoke, both sweet and acrid, continued to reach my nostrils, and I wondered whether the shift in the wind would cause the staging area to have to be relocated. I went to Mike to ask.

“I’ve just been discussing that possibility,” he said, holding up his head like a weathervane twisting in the wind. “The direction of the smoke seems to be changing every few minutes.” He leaned closer to me and added, “This is dragging on too long, Jessica. The chances of finding him become less likely with every passing minute.”

His grim analysis caused my heart to sink. He was right, of course. I’d learned from the police briefings and seminars I’d attended over the years that unless a missing child was found quickly, certainly no longer than forty-eight hours from the time of the disappearance, the possibility of a happy ending decreased dramatically. It had been only seven hours since Koko’s father had discovered him missing, but the minutes seemed like hours.
Where are you, Koko?
I silently asked myself.
Where have you gone?

Auntie Edie suddenly looked up from her stone and smiled. She nodded as she raised her eyes to the sky. Then she tucked the stone under her shawl and called for the young cousins to help her from her seat. As they made their way out of the staging area, the sound of honking horns could be heard in the distance.

I looked around for the source of the din. A convoy of three or four cars and trucks came roaring onto the campus led by Carson Nihipali’s red pickup truck. As it came to an abrupt halt, Carson, shirtless, the sun reflecting off his burnished shoulders, the tattoo of Mala’s face glistening, stood up in the truck’s open bed. It took a second before everyone realized what he held in his arms.

A cheer went up. “It’s the boy!” a chorus of voices said, joined by triumphant shouts and relieved laughter. “It’s him! It’s him!”

The boy was limp in Carson’s arms, and the joy everyone felt was tempered by the fear that he was injured, or worse. One of the EMTs raced to the side of the truck, and Carson handed Koko down to him. The EMT ran with his precious bundle to the mobile field hospital, where the doctors took Koko from him and entered the vehicle.

Warren Mohink, alerted that his son had been found, pushed his way through the crowd that had surrounded the hospital on wheels and tried to climb inside.

“The doctors are with him right now, sir,” the EMT said, using his arm to bar the door.

“But that’s my son in there.”

“We’ll let you on in a moment. The doctors are examining him now,” the EMT said. “They have to make sure there are no serious injuries. Please stay outside.”

“No! I want to see my son,” Mohink shouted. As he did, one of the doctors emerged from the trailer.

“I’m his father,” Mohink said. “Is Koko all right?”

The doctor grinned. “Yes, he’s all right,” he said. “He’s shaken up, and he’s inhaled a lot of smoke from the cane field, but he’ll be okay. Just give him, and us, some time. You can come in and see him in a few minutes.”

Like everyone else, I was overcome with joy. Mike looked at me, grinned broadly, and gave me the Hawaiian victory sign, hand in the air, pinkie and thumb extended, and I returned it.

I walked up to Warren Mohink, who was pacing in front of the medical truck. “I am so happy for you.”

“Silly kid,” he said. “Had us all worried to death.” He had tears in his eyes.

“What matters is that he’s been found,” I said.

A few minutes later Koko’s father was allowed to enter the mobile unit, and ten minutes after that he stepped from it with his son in his arms. The sight of them was met with applause and whoops of relief. Koko squinted against the bright sunlight, his arms around his father’s neck. Although his face had been washed, it was still smudged from the ashes in the field, and his hair was tangled. I took note that he was not wearing his thick glasses. But his father reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved the pair he had found in the backseat of his car. Koko raised his head and put them on. He looked at us and the shy smile that crossed his small face was contagious.

Mohink was on the receiving end of questions from the press on the scene, which now included television and radio reporters as well as Joe Luckey. I imagined that Koko’s father would have preferred simply to get in his car with his son and go home, but he politely answered the questions. Mike and a young man brought the amplifier and microphone to where Mohink stood. “Maybe if you make a statement,” Mike suggested, “they’ll back off and let you leave. I know the crowd would love hearing from you.”

Mohink thanked the onlookers for all they’d done to find his son. “His grandmother’s going to want to hug each and every one of you.” Koko, too, rose to the occasion. He scanned the crowd, a smile on his face, his eyes darting back and forth behind the thick lenses of his glasses, taking in every face, and giggling when his father said, “This little guy has given us all heartburn, but looks like he’ll have to be welcomed home with a huge dish of his favorite ice cream, Kauai Pie, with fudge and vanilla crunch cake.”

Mohink looked at Koko. “How’s that sound, buddy?”

“Yummy, yummy.” Koko ran his tongue over his lips, bringing gales of laughter from the crowd.

Mohink seemed to be enjoying the spotlight, too. Having generated a laugh, he proceeded to tell a few humorous anecdotes about his son. As he did, Professor Luzon reappeared, without Grace Latimer on his arm. In her place was his wife, Honi, in dark glasses beneath her floppy hat. She stood slightly beside her husband and peered around him, almost as though using him as a shield. I heard her say, “Come on, Abbott, let’s get out of here.”

Luzon turned to leave. As he did, a gust of wind took Honi’s hat into the air. She squealed and reached to catch it. Koko, who had seemed happy basking in the crowd’s adoration, suddenly let out a cry and hugged Mohink tight, his face buried in his father’s neck.

“What’s happening?” someone said.

Honi Luzon grabbed her husband’s sleeve and pulled on it. But before they could leave, Koko looked up through his tears and, seeing her again, shut his eyes and cried. Mohink’s confused expression mirrored everyone else’s.

I tapped Mike Kane on the shoulder. “Someone should stop her from leaving,” I said.

“Who?”

“Mrs. Luzon,” I said, indicating the couple as they walked quickly in the direction of the horticulture building. “Koko recognized her and got frightened.”

Detective Tahaki overheard what I’d said to Mike.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“You might want to talk to that blond lady over there holding her hat,” Mike said.

“About what?”

“About why the boy is so scared of her.”

“And about what she knows of Mala Kapule’s death,” I added.

Ha‘Ina Mai Ka Puana
—The Story Is Told

W
arren Mohink sat on a wooden bench and held Koko in his arms. The boy had calmed down, although there was still a vestige of fear in his expression.

“Is he okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Mohink said. “What upset you, son?”

Koko drew in deep breaths and struggled not to cry again.

“Was it that blond woman you saw?” I asked.

He averted his eyes as he nodded.

“What about her?” his father asked. When Koko didn’t respond, he said to me, “You know, I’ve seen that woman before.”

“You have?” Mike Kane asked.

“Yeah. She came to the house asking about the woman who fell off the cliff. She said she was a friend of hers and wondered what we knew about the accident.”

Mike and I looked at each other.

“And now that I think of it, she could have been in the ice cream line after the puppet show. I wouldn’t swear to it, but—”

“Koko, did you see that lady waiting in line for ice cream yesterday?” I asked.

My question elicited another nod from him.

“I think he’s answered enough questions,” Koko’s father said. “He’s been through an ordeal and I’d like to take him home.”

“Sounds like a sensible idea,” Mike said. “A squad car will take you back. The cops are going to want to interview you and the boy, so there still may be a lot of questions once he’s had a chance to calm down.”

“You mean once
I’ve
had a chance to calm down,” Mohink said, managing what passed for a smile.

Mike motioned for some uniformed officers to join us and suggested that they escort the father and son home. As they walked away, Mike said to me, “What’s this business about Mrs. Luzon?”

“I’m not sure, Mike, except that Koko reacted in fear when he saw her. And his father says she might have been the one in the ice cream line who made him ‘freak out,’ as he described it.”

Mike looked in the direction of the horticulture building, his face wrinkled in thought.

“Do you think that the kid saw her with Ms. Kapule the night she died?”

“I think it’s possible, Mike. Look, I don’t know anything for certain, but it’s worth questioning her.”

“Let’s go,” he said.

We entered the building. The corridor was empty. No Mr. and Mrs. Luzon, no Detective Tahaki.

“Let’s try the professor’s office,” I suggested.

I knocked. When no one replied, I turned the knob anyway. Luzon was standing by the window. Honi sat in a chair as far away from her husband as the room’s dimensions allowed. Detective Tahaki perched on the edge of Luzon’s desk.

“Henry?” Mike said. “Okay if we come in?”

“Fine with me,” Tahaki said. “We were just having a little chat.”

Mike and I stepped through the door and closed it behind us.

“They have no right being here,” Luzon said, facing us. “Get out!”

“I don’t know about that,” Tahaki said. “They’re private investigators, investigating a murder.” He winked at me.

“Private, my foot. Besides, what does that have to do with us?” Luzon asked, but he didn’t insist that we leave.

I decided to be direct. “Mrs. Luzon, you saw the reaction of little Koko Mohink when he saw you in the crowd. He was pretty frightened. Apparently, he saw you yesterday and had the same reaction. In fact, I’m guessing it was his fear of you that spurred him to run away today.”

“And I’m guessing that he’s obviously a very disturbed child,” she countered, her mouth set in a hard line, arms crossed defiantly on her chest. “I’ve never seen him before. And to think we were going to help the search parties find him. Now I’m glad we didn’t volunteer. He’s just a spoiled brat.”

“Let me tell you something, Mrs. Fletcher,” her husband put in. “If I were you, I’d mind my own business. Just because you’re a famous writer doesn’t give you the right to question us.”

“Maybe you’d rather have
me
ask the questions,” Mike said.

“You?” Honi laughed. “I read the papers. You aren’t even a policeman anymore. You’re retired.”

“But
I’m
not,” said Tahaki.

Honi sputtered something in response but fell silent.

“This is a violation of our rights,” Luzon said. “Come on, Honi, we’re leaving. They have no legal right to hold us here. We’ve come here voluntarily, but now it’s time to go.”

“Technically, you’re correct,” Detective Tahaki said. “But it might be to your benefit to hear what Mrs. Fletcher and Detective Kane, retired or not, have to say. If we don’t get to ask our questions here, it’ll be someplace else. Right now, based upon the boy’s reaction, you’re considered persons of interest in the death of Mala Kapule.”

I added, embellishing the truth a little, “And based upon what the boy has
said
.”

Luzon grabbed his briefcase from next to his desk and took steps toward the door.

“Oh, give it up, Abbott,” his wife said. “Be a man for a change.”

Luzon glared at her.

She laughed. “Look at you, the great professor of horticulture, and now the chairman of the department. Those credentials mean nothing to me.”

With that she got to her feet and approached him. “You are a lying, slimy excuse for a human being. One mistress wasn’t enough for you. Last year it was Janet. The year before that—what was her name?—oh, yes, Paula, lovely, empty-headed Paula. This year it’s Grace. But one at a time isn’t sufficient for you, is it, Abbott? There had to be Mala, too.”

Luzon backed away and addressed us. “She’s crazy,” he said, extending his hands palms up. “She sees affairs behind every bush, doesn’t trust me and never has.” He spun around to face her again. “Keep your mouth shut, Honi, and come with me.”

She slapped away his outstretched hand.

“You want the truth?” Honi said. “I’ll give you the truth. Remember the night of the luau, Mrs. Fletcher? When it was over, my husband said he had to go back to his office to work, some lie about a last-minute project that had to get done. He assumed I was going home, but something didn’t smell right to me. I knew he’d been having an affair with his precious Grace and figured he’d be seeing her. I pretended to leave, but I stuck around. You didn’t know that, Abbott, did you? Sure enough, he didn’t head for the college. He goes strolling up the Wailea Walk like it’s noon instead of midnight. I followed you, you know. Oh, yes, I was right there thirty feet behind you. I was ready to give you and Grace a piece of my mind. Imagine my surprise; it wasn’t Grace at all. It was your supposed rival for the chairmanship. Was that how you got her to agree not to oppose you? I stayed a distance away, but not so far that I couldn’t see you put your arm around her. It was disgusting.”

“Never happened,” Luzon said.

“You must have been very angry,” Mike said.

Honi snorted. “A gross understatement,” she said, reminding me of Grace’s response when I’d commented on how expensive it must be to live on Maui. “Wouldn’t you be angry if you found your wife in a similar situation?”

Mike ignored the question and said, “You confronted them?”

A crooked grin crossed Honi’s face. “Oh, I intended to, but—”

We waited for her to finish.

“But what?” I asked.

“Tell them, Abbott,” his wife said. “Tell them what you did.”

“Shut up, Honi!”

“I will not shut up,” she snapped. “Tell them what happened—or I will!”

Luzon said nothing. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, and he visibly shook.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Detective Tahaki said. “Were one of you, or both, present when Ms. Kapule fell to her death?”

Honi had resumed her chair. “Yes,” she said, raising her chin as if daring her husband to contradict her. “Wouldn’t you say so, Abbott?”

“No! Honi, you’re only making it worse.”

“And where were you exactly, Mrs. Luzon?” Mike asked.

Honi waved her arms. “Near enough.”

“Near enough for what?”

“To see his latest lover.”

“You’re crazy, Honi. You couldn’t see anything. It was dark.”

“There was a moon. I could see just fine.”

“You’re making it up.”

Mike said, “What say we take a little trip to find out what Mrs. Luzon could or could not see?”

“Trip?” Luzon said. “To where?”

“Back to where the incident took place. Mrs. Luzon can walk us through what happened that night.”

“Absolutely not,” said Luzon.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Honi said, standing again. “I’m ready.”

“And I’m leaving,” Luzon said.

“Not so fast,” Tahaki said. “You and your wife have information about the death of Mala Kapule. It’s an open case, and I have the authority to take you into custody for questioning as material witnesses. It’d be a lot easier for both of you if you cooperate with what Detective Kane has suggested—go to the scene and reconstruct what happened based upon your observations.”

We all watched Luzon as he struggled with a reply.

“Your choice,” Tahaki told him. “It’s either that or we can continue this conversation at headquarters.”

Tahaki didn’t wait for a response. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called for two uniformed officers and an SUV. The call completed, he opened the office door and said, “Time to go.”

In Wailea, the five of us trooped across the field where the luau had taken place to reach the coastal trail. I remembered that day clearly, stopping by Mala’s class, meeting her and having coffee. She had impressed me with her knowledge and poise and her dedication to follow what she believed was the honorable course, to defend the sacred site of Haleakala from further development. Was I so far off the mark in my assessment of her? Had she compromised her values for the sake of money? Had she been having an affair with her challenger for the chairmanship? And could Grace possibly have been right? If I had found her that night, would Mala still be alive?

Mike and I led the way, with the Luzons next and Detective Tahaki behind them. The uniformed police brought up the rear of our little expedition.

When we reached the spot where Mala had fallen, I looked in the direction of the Mohink house for a sign of Warren and Koko, but saw nothing.

Although Tahaki was the officer in charge and had arranged for us to be there, Mike took the helm.

“Okay, Mrs. Luzon,” he said, “here we are. You said that you saw your husband in an embrace with Ms. Kapule. Exactly where were they?”

“Where you’re standing,” Honi replied. “No, a few feet in that direction, closer to the edge.”

Mike changed his position. “Here?”

“Yes, there,” Honi confirmed.

“And you?” Mike asked. “Where were you?”

Honi looked back along the path. “Over there,” she said, pointing to where the trail curved around a wall thirty feet away. The opposite side of the path was lined with bushes.

“Please show Mrs. Fletcher exactly where you were standing.” Mike suggested. He turned to me and said, “We need to know what she could see from that vantage point.”

Honi and I walked back along the path to the place where she said she’d hidden. She chuckled. “This is like an episode of
Law and Order
, reenacting the crime.”

“Do you find it amusing?” I asked.

“Very.”

Mike ordered Luzon to stand just off the path.

By now the professor had adopted a cynical, almost amused posture at what was going on. “Of course, sir,” he said, emphasizing “sir.”

From where Honi and I stood, her husband was partially visible, our view marred by the branch of a tree that arched over the path.

“Now, Mrs. Luzon,” Mike said, “tell us what you observed.”

Mike and Tahaki stood on the path, their attention moving from one spouse to the other. Luzon remained on the soft ground, staring off at the horizon. The water below was choppy and a brisk breeze provided relief from the hot sun. A gust of wind pressed the overhanging branch down, obscuring my view of the men.

Honi looked at me as though wanting permission to speak.

“Are you certain of what you saw?” I asked.

“I saw—I saw Abbott push Mala over the edge,” she said in a surprisingly strong voice heard by everyone.

Luzon guffawed. “See?” he said, “I told you she was crazy. Why would I do that?”

“Because you were having an affair with her,” Honi said.

“I never had an affair with her.”

“Well, not for lack of trying, right, Abbott?”

I interrupted their bickering. “Are you saying that your wife is a liar?”

“That’s right. A bald-faced liar. I can’t even see you now, Honi. That tree branch is in the way.”

“But I was able to see you,” his wife shouted. “You weren’t looking, and I moved closer.” She demonstrated by stepping into the path and hugging the wall, edging closer to the men.

I walked past her, taking my place next to the detectives.

Luzon turned to face us, but as the three of us stared at him, the cumulative effect seemed to strip him of his bravado. He put his hands in his pockets and slowly shook his head. “Okay,” he said, “Mala fell while we were here together. But I didn’t push her. We had an argument.”

“An argument over what?” I asked.

“What she was trying to do. She threatened to report my affair with a student.”

“Grace?” I asked.

Luzon nodded.

“Grace!” Honi said under her breath.

Luzon ignored her. “Mala said she was going to go to the administration,” he continued. “They’d already told me that I had the post. I knew they were ready to make the public announcement. She wanted to derail my promotion, wanted to be chair of the department herself. Mala had a mean streak in her; believe me. She wasn’t all sweetness and light. I tried to reason with her, but she just laughed away anything I said. She wanted me to take myself out of the running for the chairmanship and recommend her instead. I refused. That’s when she—well, that’s when she took a few steps back and the edge gave way and she lost her balance. I saw her arms fly up in the air. She shouted something, but there were these birds. I couldn’t hear what she said.”

“What happened next?”

“She grabbed for a bush, but the branch broke. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t reach out to try to save her. I was afraid I’d go over the edge, too. Afterward, I was in shock. She was gone. It was an accident, pure and simple. I never touched her, never pushed her. I swear it.”