Restless Waters (16 page)

The sun hung low, a molten ball of flame, as though suspended from the heavens by a string. I glanced to my left where Jesus rays hovered above the Waianae range, their halo of light transforming the verdant pali into a strand of ghostly mountains. The sight was so intensely beautiful that I had to force myself to look away, fearing it might prove to be taboo and I’d be turned into a pillar of salt.

Instead, my gaze fell upon hundreds of pale orange ilima blossoms that covered the ground. They could have been mistaken for crepe-paper leis, so tightly were they threaded together. I sidestepped them and hurried on, passing a few roving albatross along the way. The birds flew out to sea and then swooped back over the dunes, as if in search of one last snack before settling down for the night.

The large coral rock eventually came into view. It must have been gathering the sun’s rays all day, for it practically pulsated and glowed in the last of the light. It was almost as if the rock contained magnetic powers, so strongly was I drawn to it. I didn’t question the sensation, but pulled myself onto the boulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sammy in the distance. However, he was nowhere in sight.

I worried at first that Kalahiki might have changed his mind. For all I knew, he’d received another threatening phone call and been frightened away. Perhaps he was trying to contact me even now. Then again, he’d also been late for our first meeting. I probably should have realized that the guy operated on a different clock—one that kept Hawaiian time.

It was something I’d been warned about by other mainlanders who resided here. There’s simply no structure to things. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the temperature is always the same, as if regulated on a hidden thermostat. It probably helped explain the origins of a favorite Hawaiian expression: “whateveh.” You set your watch back five hours and two hundred years. Then you’re pretty much running on the same type of schedule.

With that in mind, I turned my attention to the sunset and the Waianae coastline.

The winter waves were notorious for being larger here than anywhere else on the island. I relaxed and watched the display as they angled in from both sides of the point.
They swept across a chain of rocks, gathering strength along the way. It was as if a giant hand had slapped the water hard, so that the waves kicked up plumes of mist. They hung in the air before slowly dispersing, their long wisps the phantom tails of mythological creatures galloping out across the sea.

I leaned back and basked in the last bit of light as the water turned liquid gold, stretching against a cloudless horizon. But what literally took my breath away was a flash of green so bright that I wondered if there’d been an explosion. It lasted just a brief moment before the seething sun puddled and oozed into the ocean. However, I was greedy for more and not yet ready to let it escape. I quickly scrambled to my feet and stood on top of the rock, determined to follow its course. It didn’t matter that it was already too late. I stubbornly refused to give up.

I continued to scan the water with my binoculars, hoping to catch a glimpse of a whale, a monk seal, or a spinner dolphin, anything that would fuel my interest as I waited for Kalahiki to arrive. My wish seemed to be granted as I caught sight of something fluttering in among the rocks. I leaned forward as far as I could without falling off. But I still wasn’t able to see directly below into the water. I solved that problem by jumping from my perch and standing along the cliff’s edge to get a better view.

All I could see at first were the waves relentlessly pounding layers of hardened lava. I continued to stare at the landscape of rocks, adjusting my gaze until I finally found what I’d been searching for.

That was when a creature, cold and clammy, slithered beneath my skin and wouldn’t go away.

Pinned under a jagged boulder was a shape that slowly mutated into an arm. Its hand moved back and forth in the current’s frothy spittle, as if frantically waving to say,
“Help me. I’m here.” A dying ray of light skipped from finger to finger, as if in a child’s game of hopscotch, its dwindling beam caressing the waterlogged flesh.

It was then I spied a glint reflecting off one of the digits. I crept to the tip of the cliff and adjusted my binoculars, hoping to get a closer look. A smooth blue stone burned with a life all its own, encompassing a six-pointed star beneath the surface.

Superstition has it that the gem brings peace, happiness, and purity of soul to those who wear it. But as with most fairy tales, that simply wasn’t true. Rather, the bearer’s life had been filled with mistrust, broken promises, and disillusionment. The fire within the star sapphire ring slowly began to diminish until it finally disappeared.

Paradise had once again proven to be elusive for those living within its purlieu. And along with that came the realization as to why my contact was so late. Sammy Kalahiki had been there all along. He lay floating below, dead in the restless water.

I
pulled out my cell phone and called the police.

“Ka’ena Point? Terrific. The guy couldn’t have picked an easier spot?” grumbled the voice on the other end.

“Yeah, it was pretty inconsiderate. But then he probably wasn’t thinking about your convenience at the time,” I snapped.

My bitchy remark was met by a moment of stony silence.

“Stay where you are and don’t leave the scene,” the desk duty officer instructed icily.

“Don’t worry. I know the drill. By the way, how soon do you think someone will arrive? I’m an agent with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service,” I informed him.

Maybe that wasn’t such a smart move on my part.

“Why? What’s the problem? Are all the animals out rioting tonight and you’ve gotta rush back to work?” he sarcastically responded. “Cool your heels. We’ll get there when we get there.”

He hadn’t been kidding. I stood at the edge of the cliff and waited for what seemed like hours. If nothing else, it gave me plenty of time to think.

The hand continued to wave, though not so urgently
now. It was almost as if Sammy knew he had been found. Still, what was he trying to tell me?

I turned my head, not wanting to stare at the disjointed arm. However, Kalahiki refused to let me look away for too long. Having no choice, I tried as best I could to disassociate myself from the limb. An arm is an arm is an arm. This one just happened to belong to my latest informant.

I wondered when Kalahiki had arrived. Sammy must have been anxious about our meeting tonight. Otherwise, why would he have shown up so much earlier than expected? There was that, along with Pryor’s blatant warning. Combine the two and I was left with a feeling of unease.

Kalahiki had grown up in these parts and probably knew every rock and stone. Had he become so cocksure as to have misread his surroundings and accidentally plummeted to his death? Every instinct within me refused to believe so.

Besides, this place was like an echo chamber, with nothing but albatross around. I’d certainly have heard a scream or the clatter of rocks during my walk to the point. On the other hand, if a fight had ensued, I would have heard that also. My skin was cold to the touch, even though the evening air was humid and warm.

I needed to kill time until the police arrived. Especially if I hoped to keep my sanity. With that in mind, I decided to do what I love best: snoop about while carrying out my own mini-investigation. Flicking on my flashlight, I proceeded to carefully search the area. No litterbugs here. In fact, there wasn’t a damn thing on the ground that could have been deemed the least bit suspicious.

Having no luck, I stood on the brink of the cliff and felt the pull of the rocks below. Had Sammy become so de
spondent about events that, rather than resist the tug, he’d finally given in to temptation? Once again, gut instinct told me no.

“Rachel!”

I whirled around, expecting to find the police behind me, but no one was there. My flesh turned to chicken skin and my body became icy cold.

“Rachel!” the call again pierced the night.

I could scarcely breathe, having realized that the cry wasn’t coming from behind, but was carried on the waves like a ghostly song. My God! Could it be that Sammy was still alive? My heart raced double time as I dashed to the edge and flashed my light on the rocks below.

“Sammy? Are you there?” I called out.

But there wasn’t a sound. Rather, the disembodied hand giddily mocked me by waving hello. I hastily retreated to my perch of stone as the night ominously closed in around me.

Every shadow, every rustle came to life, magnified a hundredfold. My nerves nearly reached their breaking point as fear planted itself deep, spreading its tentacles throughout my entire being. That was when a noise sprang to life and echoed in the night, turning the darkness into a living, breathing creature.

I jumped as a stone unexpectedly fell into what sounded like a bottomless well. That was followed by the clatter of another stone, and then another. Something was scrambling up the rocks, as if pulling itself from the bowels of a watery death. The clawing echoed in my head until my stomach was reeling.

“Sammy, is that you?” I weakly called.

But the only response was fractured, disjointed breathing.

The flashlight shook between my trembling hands, not
knowing what it would find: the mutilated figure of a man or an angry wraith in the night.

I remained where I was as if paralyzed, until the murmur of distant voices broke the spell.

“Over here!” I screamed out, not knowing if they were friend or foe, or really caring. All that mattered was that they were flesh-and-blood human beings.

I stared into the darkness, finally spotting a procession of lights like a dislocated band of fireflies. There were four in all, each of which continued to grow in size. I urgently blinked my flashlight to the beat of the song playing inside my head, the Rolling Stones’ diabolic tune
“Sympathy for the Devil.”

A cluster of bodies emerged from the night, their movements as tenuous as that of a spider picking its way across rough terrain without any sight. The forms gradually crystallized into a responding officer with three morgue technicians bringing up the rear. It immediately became clear that the trio in back had been hired for their muscle rather than brains. I could already hear them snickering about what kind of moron would come all the way out to Ka’ena Point just to fall off a cliff. As for the officer, he looked more annoyed than anything else. No matter. I was relieved to no longer be alone.

“Officer Eddie Fong,” he said upon finally reaching me.

The man was slightly built, with sparse dark hair and a pair of sleep-deprived eyes. Deep lines tugged at the corners of his mouth like a couple of tiny anchors.

“I’m Special Agent Rachel Porter. The body’s down there,” I informed him, pointing toward the spot. “I found Sammy Kalahiki right around sunset.”

“Hey, Officer Fong. You wanna go down first and check out the scene before we haul him up?” one of the technicians asked.

“What for? I can already see everything I need to right here. Besides, why would I want to get my uniform wet?” Fong dryly retorted and then began to move his flashlight around.

Its beam came to rest near where Sammy had apparently gone over.

“So this is where you think the accident happened, huh?” Fong asked, in a tone of nonchalance verging on boredom.

“I believe so. If it really was an accident,” I replied, always curious as to how someone else carried out an investigation.

“What are you saying? That it might have been suicide?” he promptly followed up.

“No. Not at all,” I answered, feeling sure of my response.

“Okay then. You said you weren’t in the area at the time. Is that correct?” Fong inquired, proceeding on with the interview.

“Yes. I didn’t get here until afterward. I spotted the body while waiting for him to arrive,” I clarified.

“Then how can you be certain that this is the location where he fell?” Fong quickly countered.

“Call it an educated guess. Take a look for yourself. Kalahiki’s body is lodged directly below here, under a rock,” I calmly responded.

He walked to the edge and flashed his light in the water, where Sammy waved to him in hello. Fong looked at me in surprise.

“Interesting story, except for one problem. All I can see is a hand. Which leads to the next question. What makes you so certain that this is your friend?”

“Take a closer look and you’ll spot a star sapphire ring on one of the fingers. It belonged to Sammy,” I explained.

“What was the relationship between you two, anyway?
Was he just an acquaintance, or perhaps something more?” Fong asked, now turning to look directly at me.

What did he think? This was the result of some sort of lovers’ quarrel?

“We were friends,” I lied.

“It seems like rather a strange place to meet a friend at night. Wouldn’t you agree? What did you come here for, anyway?”

“Sammy said it was a great spot to watch the sunset. I decided to take him up on the offer,” I replied, purposely choosing to remain vague.

I was grateful that Fong was at least asking the right questions. Now all he needed to do was dismiss me as his prime suspect. Apparently, Fong came to the same conclusion.

“Sorry about your friend. But you’d be amazed how often this sort of thing happens around here.’”

“What’s that?” I inquired, wondering what he was getting at.

“People lose their footing and fall off cliffs on this island all the time.”

Two of the technicians began to climb down, and we shined our lights on the rocks to help guide their way.

“Damn, but this guy’s pinned under here pretty good,” one of the men called to us, as they tried to pull him out.

Their struggle continued until the flow of the tide finally helped to dislodge him. Once that was done, a body bag and stretcher were lowered, and Sammy was packed and strapped onto it. Then Fong helped the third technician lift the parcel back up the cliff.

We waited until all were again on firm ground before zipping open the body bag.

Sammy stared up at us, as though wondering why he was on his back and we were all standing around gaping at him. I’d seen that same expression on others whose lives had been cut short. The disbelief that this couldn’t
be all there was to existence. But there was something else in his eyes, as well: a silent demand for retribution.

“Take a look at this,” Fong said, and aimed his flashlight on Kalahiki’s torso. “Pretty nasty, huh?”

A series of ugly red gashes had been torn across his body, ripping through muscle, flesh, and bone. I tried hard not to gag at the sight of Sammy’s intestines hanging half out.

“Those slashes could have been made by only one thing: a shark. That should answer any question as to how your friend died. That is, if the fall didn’t kill him first,” Fong theorized.

The same lacerations covered Sammy’s chest and throat, making him look more like the victim of a slasher than any meals-on-wheels for a shark. That was the other thing. He’d clearly bled out.

Kalahiki’s complexion was chalky, as if a vampire had fed on him. Though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, I knew that something was wrong.

I took a deep breath, and waited to hear what else Fong had to say.

“Okay, boys. That’s it. Let’s get him out of here,” he ordered.

Sammy’s eyes were the last thing I saw as the bag was closed up. They bore into mine, as if determined to extract a promise.

“I’m sure you’ll learn more during the autopsy. In any case, I’d like to be kept in the loop as the investigation progresses,” I said, having regained my composure.

Fong regarded me strangely, his expression oscillating between irritation and amusement.

“And what makes you think there’s going to be an investigation? This was clearly an accident,” he responded.

“Wait a minute. You don’t know that for certain,” I disputed. “There are still too many unanswered questions.”

“Such as?” Fong challenged.

“Such as things which simply don’t add up,” I obstinately replied, unable to conjure any specifics—except for one. “A shark wouldn’t have attacked Kalahiki like that and then just left him. Not without at least eating part of the body.”

“Maybe your friend didn’t taste so good,” Fong retorted, abruptly dismissing my concern. “Anyway, that’s not my area of expertise. All I can tell you is what I found, which is nothing. There’s no other explanation but for the fact that he stood too close to the edge, stepped on a loose stone, slipped and lost his balance. As I said before, this kind of thing happens all the time. You want to go interview a bunch of sharks, be my guest. That’s your business. But as far as I’m concerned, this case is closed.”

Fong said nothing more, but turned and walked off. The two technicians tottered behind like crabs, balancing Sammy’s body between them, while the third man directed his light on the path. I reluctantly followed. Though I didn’t agree with Fong’s conclusion, neither did I want to be left in the dark.

We silently parted ways upon reaching our vehicles, and I guided the Explorer toward home. The moon hid behind clouds, as though it were also protesting Fong’s decision.

Sammy was supposed to have brought evidence with him tonight. I now wondered if he had and, if so, what could have happened to it? There’d been no sign of papers in among the rocks—unless the sea had chosen to wipe away all clues of their existence. Not only that, but I couldn’t erase the image of Sammy’s shredded flesh from my mind. It had hung from his bones like tattered rags.

Fong was right. Sammy did appear to have been killed by a shark attack. Yet there was something about it that simply didn’t make sense.

The sound of the waves helped lull my nerves as my tires raced down the road. I parked in the driveway and
followed my nose along the beach to where Kevin and Jake were cooking dinner.

“How did I know you’d arrive home in time to eat?” Santou asked with a grin.

I think it’s the one talent I have left,” I glumly responded.

Kevin threw me a beer and popped open a can for himself.

“Tough day, huh? Well, we’re nothing but a couple of beach bums with plenty of time on our hands. So, why don’t you tell us about it?” he suggested, stretching his legs and wiggling his toes in the sand.

His one-eighty-degree change in demeanor took me by surprise. I was about to ask if he’d spent his day undergoing a lobotomy, when Santou caught my eye and slyly smiled.

At the same time, Spam crawled on his belly through the sand, until he was close enough to lay his head in my lap. Lifting a paw, he demanded that I scratch him behind the ears. I idly did so.

What the hell. The worst Kevin could do was to try and knock me down a couple of pegs. And in my mood, I’d simply beat the crap out of him. When considered in that light, it was a win-win situation.

“There’s another case I’m working on at the moment. One I haven’t told you about, that involves shark finning,” I revealed.

“Shark finning, huh? Didn’t I read something about that just a few years ago?” Kevin retorted. “I seem to remember the governor signed a bill declaring it to be illegal. That’s right, and the local fishermen were pretty pissed.”