Livin' Lahaina Loca Page 10

  “As I was saying,” Hatch continued. “Overall, Ono’s a good guy, but he’s got a dicey side. I’ve heard some things. Try to avoid being alone with him when other people aren’t around.”

  I wanted to laugh. Doesn’t alone pretty much mean that other people aren’t around? But decades of martial arts training had taught me to keep my emotions—and my smart-ass remarks—in check. I kept quiet.

  We sat in silence for a long minute.

  “Okay,” he said. “I know, it sounds like I’m jealous or something. But that’s not it. I swear.”

  Again, I didn’t respond.

  “You see,” Hatch went on, “Kingston was a hot-shot architect over on the mainland. He was used to getting his way and having other people clean up his messes. Then his wife died and the guy went nuts. The doctor who’d misdiagnosed her cancer died from poisoning three days after her funeral. The police had Kingston in their radar, but they couldn’t prove anything. Then, he started drinking, which I guess he told you about. But he wasn’t just drinking. They were investigating him not only for the poisoning but for drug dealing, smuggling stuff down from Canada, all kinds of crap. Trust me, he may keep a clean boat, but he’s one unstable dude.”

  “Hatch, I appreciate your concern, but it’s unnecessary. First off, we were never alone. The first mate, Chico, was there when we were out on the catamaran, and when we got to O’ahu we stayed at the owner’s place and she was home the entire time. So, even if Ono had nefarious plans in mind, he had no opportunity to act on them. Okay?”

  Now it was Hatch’s turn to be silent.

  “I’ve got to get going,” I said. I stood up. “I’ve got to check out limo drivers in the morning, and then I’ve only got four more days until the biggest wedding I’ve done in months.”

  Again, he played the mute card.

  “Okay. You want me to thank you for giving me the heads-up on Kingston? Fine. I’ll be careful. But in return, I need you to accept my apology for not calling on Sunday.”

  He nodded. “I’m working tomorrow but you can stay over if you want.” It sounded less like an invitation than an attempt to clear the air.

  “Mahalo, maybe next time.”

  I crossed the lanai and turned back and looked at him. More than anything, I wanted to ask his opinion of Crystal Wilson’s disappearance, along with the hair, the fingernails, and the creepy voicemails. I’d been so relieved when Wong had taken the fingernails with him, but then he’d snatched away that good feeling with his last call. Maybe if Hatch heard me out and agreed with Wong that it was probably all a joke I could shake the nagging feeling I should be doing something about finding her.

  “You got something else you want to say?” Hatch’s tone let me know I was in jeopardy of overstaying my welcome.

  “No, I’m just tired. I need to get to bed before I fall over.”

  “Take it easy up on Baldwin.” He said, his voice softening. “Scanner’s saying they’ve got a DD checkpoint set up near the Hana Highway intersection.”

  “Mahalo. I’ll be careful.”

  ***

  Steve wasn’t around when I got home. I didn’t bother checking to see if he was upstairs, but went straight to my room, stripped off my clothes and crawled into bed. The wine, coupled with very little food all day, was working its magic on my usually racing thoughts. I was asleep before I knew it.

  The next morning I awoke at five. Usually, I roll over and get my best sleep of the night until the alarm goes off at seven-thirty. But I couldn’t drop off again. I tossed and turned, plumping the pillow and flipping it over for about a half hour before giving up. A beautiful young woman was out there, in the dark. Someone had chopped off her hair and ripped off her fake fingernails. Worse, from the looks of things, I was the only person on the entire island who gave a damn.

  CHAPTER 13

  At six a.m. I pulled into a parking spot behind the Palace of Pain. For me, the best antidote to stress is an hour of kicking and screaming. I hadn’t been down there for a while and I expected some ribbing from Sifu Doug, my kung fu instructor and the owner of PoP, but when I arrived he wasn’t there.

  I let myself in using the key I’d been given when I’d earned my first black belt. No matter how recently Doug had cleaned, the PoP always smelled the same: sweat and grimy feet. I kind of liked it. I imagined that’s what my dad would’ve smelled like after a hard day at work. But I’d never know what my dad smelled like since he’d hot-footed it back to the mainland when I was just a baby. My mom died before I was old enough to ask her if she had any idea where he’d gone.

  I flipped on a single light switch. There were four rows of fluorescent bulbs, but I preferred the cool, cave-like ambiance of just one row to the blazing in-your-face glare Sifu Doug insists on while teaching classes. I warmed up by going through my entire repertoire of forms. I usually skip the easy ones and get down to business, but I paid penance for my recent absence by starting at Form One and doggedly working my way up the line.

  Around seven, my sifu showed up.

  “Hey, call the cops. We got alien intruders in here!” Doug grinned and switched on the rest of the lights.

  “Aloha, Sifu. I figured I better get back down here before you took my picture off the wall.”

  He turned toward the display of portraits of all the black belt fighters who trained at PoP. “You still up there? I tol’ them to take you down months ago.”

  He came across the mat and we did a quick, but complicated handshake routine that included fist-bumps, palm slaps, and so on. It was one of those things the guys took very seriously but I never did. Nevertheless, I’d worked my way into acceptance and I wasn’t about to blow it over some Mars versus Venus thing.

  “What’s with you skipping practice?” he said. “I was gonna call and nag you, but I ran into Steve at the market and he said you been real busy working on a fancy wedding.”

  “Yeah, I have. But it’ll be over on Saturday. I promise I’ll get down here more often after that.”

  “Good. Well, I’ve got some paperwork I need to catch up on. You’re still planning on coming next Monday night, right?”

  I hesitated. I’d completely forgotten Monday’s promotion ceremony.

  “Uh, sure. You need me to judge?”

  “No, I’ve already got the judges lined up. But I like to have all the black belts here to observe. It means a lot to the little guys.”

  “How many are up for promotion?”

  “Twenty-three. White to brown.” That meant it would be an hours-long ceremony, mostly little kids. And, with brown belt as the highest level, pretty boring. But there was no way I’d gripe to my sifu.

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Great. Well, I’ll let you get back at it. Good to see you, Pali. We miss you when you’re not around.” I felt a pang of remorse for staying away so long. Then it hit me. Doug was one of the most solid guys I knew—a happy family man, former Army Ranger. He was highly disciplined and no-nonsense. If he smelled a rat, it was time to bait the traps.

  “Doug,” I said. Doug turned, his eyes squinting at me as if I’d whispered help. I rarely addressed him by his given name and he seemed to sense I wasn’t going to ask for tips on stance or breathing.

  “What’s up? You got some trouble?”

  “I don’t know.” I asked if we could talk in his office for a few minutes. “I promise I’ll keep it short.”

  “No worries. I’d rather blow off this paperwork for a while anyway.”

  I went through a quick review: finding the hair on Halloween; my trip to the police station; the bridal couple dismissing Crystal’s disappearance because she was a flake; the fingernails hanging on my doorknob and, finally, Wong’s claim that the whole thing was a prank. When I finished, I blew out a breath.

  “That’s it?” he said.

  “Pretty much.”

  “Have you talked to Farrah?”

  I nodded.

  “What’d she say?”

  “She did a
tarot reading for the bridal couple and didn’t like the groom much. I showed her the hair before I gave it to Wong and she said it gave off a really bad vibe. I think her words were ‘feels to me like that missing girl’s in deep doo-doo’.”

  “Yeah? Well, I vote with her.”

  “So, what should I do?”

  “I think you know what you should do, but you don’t want to do it.”

  “Story of my life.”

  “Story of everybody’s life,” he said with a smile. “That’s why we kick major ass around here.”

  ***

  It was coming up on eight o’clock when I turned into the alley behind my shop. I’d spent the entire commute to Lahaina fussing over what to do about Crystal, and I wasn’t any further along than I’d been in Pa’ia. I parked as close to the wall as I could to block entry to my passenger-side door with the broken lock. I pushed down the locks on the other doors before heading upstairs. The smell in the alley seemed pretty tame and I hoped the atmosphere in my shop would follow suit. I’d be leaving in less than an hour, though, so no biggie.

  I turned the key in the door and, as I entered, I checked the desk phone to see if the message light was blinking. It wasn’t.

  My appointment with the limo service was at nine, and the place was only fifteen minutes away. I busied myself getting the coffee all set up, everything ready to go, for my eleven o’clock meeting with Keith and Nicole. I considered going over to Star Market to pick up some pastries, but nixed that idea. It’d be better to treat them to lunch downstairs at Hargrove’s. A rather expensive gesture, but I figured I needed to haul out the lavish to make up for not getting in touch with them all weekend.

  I pulled up to Napili Limo at nine on the dot and Manny waved me in past a snarling Doberman. He held the dog’s collar while I got out.

  “You need that beast to keep out intruders?” I said.

  “I keep him for show. I don’t want nobody messing with my cars. But he don’t bite. Never has. I think if some guy showed up with a mess of jerky ol’ Duke here would let him drive a limo right on outta here.” He scrubbed the dog’s ears, and the Doberman nuzzled his hand for more.

  “Can I see the cars you’ve got lined up for me for this weekend?”

  “Sure, no worries. I saved the best ones for you.”

  I looked around the scrubby dirt lot. There were three limos—two white, one black.

  “I ordered four,” I said.

  “Yeah, I know. I got one getting the tires rotated.”

  “C’mon, Manny. Don’t mess with me. Where’s the fourth one?”

  He shook his head. “Cracked up. My brother takes it out for one night and manages to run off the highway down by Puamana. Tore the shit out of the undercarriage.” He grinned. “But don’ you worry, I got an uncle up in Wailuku. He’s got a nice van. Real clean. He offered to ride your people.”

  “Manny, these are rich California people. They can tell the difference between a minivan and a limo.”

  “But it’s real nice. Kind of a dark red. Got chrome rims—the whole nine yards.”

  It was too late for me to find something else. I’d have to mention the van at today’s meeting with Keith and hope he’d go along with it.

  “Okay, Manny, but I’m not paying limo prices for your uncle’s keiki-van ride. Half.”

  “Half? No way. The gas is the same, the wear on the tires the same, and I gotta pay the driver for the same amount of time.”

  “The driver’s gonna be your uncle, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then he gets half. If he’s smart and he shows them a good time maybe he’ll get a nice tip. But I’m not paying a hundred bucks an hour for a Wailuku minivan, nice rims or no. Fifty bucks—tops. And I want you to shave a little off the others because you promised me four limos and you’re only giving me three.”

  He stared at me; I stared back.

  “God, you’re a mean wahine. I try to make a living here, you know? I got two kids, and this dog here eats like a third kid. It’s not easy, dude.”

  I was getting perturbed. “Look Manny, when your brudda smacked up your limo you should’ve called me and told me what was up. I don’t like surprises. Especially last-minute surprises. Now, do we have a deal or not?”

  “How about ninety bucks for the others and seventy-five for the van?” he offered.

  “How about I take my business someplace else?” I started for my car, aware that if Manny let go of that Doberman, he might get to see his dog bite someone for the very first time.

  “Okay, okay. Seventy-five for the limos, fifty for the van.”

  “And who’s going to be driving?” I said.

  “I drive the bride and her girls; my brudda Kane—he’s not the one who did the crash, that’s my other brudda—drives the groom with the guys. I’ll get my sister’s husband, Larry, to drive the third limo and then my uncle will bring over the van. Sound good?”

  I’d worked with everyone he’d mentioned except the Wailuku uncle. “Can I call your uncle and talk to him beforehand?”

  “Sure. He works swing, unloading barges at the Kahului wharf. But you can call him in the afternoon—around four o’clock, before he has to be at work.”

  Terrific. Today I get to tell Keith that not only is he not getting the four limos I’d promised, but the replacement van will be driven by a day-sleeping longshoreman.

  I gave Manny his deposit and got a receipt. I went through the timetable with him and warned him of the consequences for being even ten minutes late.

  “Whoo-ee, you one hard-ass lady,” he said. “I don’t know why you pound on me so bad. Have I ever let you down?”

  I made it back to the shop by ten-thirty and, again, parked close to the wall to prevent anyone from getting into my car through the unlocked passenger door.

  By ten-forty, the coffee was perking and I’d fought back the downstairs kitchen smells using my arsenal of odor fighters.

  I pulled out the Keith Lewis/Nicole Johnson wedding file to scan for any overlooked details while I waited.

  At eleven-ten, I got up and peered out the window to see if Keith and Nicole were cruising for parking. Except for my Geo the alley was empty, with at least a half-dozen open spots going begging.

  I called their cells but in both cases it went directly to voicemail. I left the same message on both phones: Hi, it’s Pali. I’m hoping you’re on your way down for our meeting today. Everything looks good. I just want to go over the final schedule with you. See you soon!

  When the minute hand on my desk clock clicked on the six for eleven-thirty, I started pacing. Up to that point Nicole and Keith had never been late for a meeting and I was feeling the weight of not returning Keith’s call from last weekend. What if something had come up with Crystal and they’d needed my help? What if Nicole or another girl had also gone missing? I plopped down in the guest chair and put my head in my hands.

  Sifu Doug had said I knew what I needed to do. Problem was, I didn’t. I only knew how I felt. And how I felt was worried. Worried and sick at heart.

  CHAPTER 14

  No sense sitting around waiting for the bridal couple to show up. It was nerve-wracking and I’m not a patient person. Better to drive up to the Ritz and see if they’d overslept—or if they hadn’t checked their cell phone messages and weren’t aware I’d asked for the meeting.

  I locked up and went down to the alley. My car had a folded piece of paper stuck onto the front windshield. No biggie. Every few days I get a flyer on my car. Usually it’s for things like outcall massage, an all-you-can-eat luau, or a timeshare solicitation with a fantastic offer of a free sunset cocktail cruise in exchange for only ninety minutes of your vacation time.

  I plucked the paper from under the windshield wiper and flipped it open. The handwriting was in a childish print, black ballpoint pen. We got the girl. $500,000 US or she dies. No cops. Tell him he nows were to send the money.

  Aside from the obvious misspelling of ‘knows’ and ‘whe
re’ and the reference to the money in US funds, the note provided few clues as to who’d written it. I called Wong on his cell but it immediately went to his voice mail. Then I took off for the Ritz, hoping against hope Keith and Nicole might have some answers.

  I parked in the upper lot and made my way down to the lobby. At the desk, I asked the clerk to ring room number 2371.

  He picked up the house phone and put his hand over the receiver, “And your name is?”

  “Pali. Pali Moon.”

  “Oh,” he said, putting the phone back down. “I believe we have a message for you.” He flipped through a box with tabs marked with room numbers. “Yes, here it is.” He brought out a bulging cream-colored business-size envelope with my name written on it and the Ritz Carlton logo thickly embossed in the upper left corner next to the return address. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to tip him or not, so I settled for flashing a big smile and offering a sincere ‘Mahalo’.

  I asked if Keith Lewis was still registered at the hotel. The clerk tapped on his keyboard, paused, then tapped some more. He stared at the screen, then tapped the ‘enter’ key about ten times. I wondered if he was messing with me for not offering a tip or if locating a registered guest really required that many keystrokes.

  “It says here he checked out this morning. At eleven thirty-two. Our normal checkout time is eleven, but since Mr. Lewis was in the Hanalei Suite, we allowed his party a little leeway.”

  In other words, I thought, you’d already extracted an obscene sum of money from him so why quibble over an extra half hour.

  “And the others in his party? Have they checked out as well?”

  “Hmm. Let me see. His file shows he was responsible for six additional rooms. It’ll take me a moment to review the status.” He typed. And typed.

  “Yes, the entire Lewis party departed this morning and the bill is paid in full. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  I turned and noticed a line had formed behind me.