Livin' Lahaina Loca Page 13

  “Still, I’d like to give it a try.”

  And so began four hours of questions about every aspect of Keith Lewis. By the time I was excused I was exhausted—and starving.

  On my way out, a police clerk handed me a plastic Ziploc bag. Inside it I could see my driver’s license, my cell phone, and a piece of paper detailing the items they’d kept as evidence.

  So—I’d walked into the Wailuku Police Station owning a beach bag purse containing a few personal items and a huge wad of cash. I walked out four hours later carrying a clear plastic bag that held my phone, my ID, and a voucher for ten thousand bucks I’d never see hide nor hair of again.

  CHAPTER 18

  A street cop drove me back to my car at the Kahului Airport. When I asked if the police department would validate my parking, the guy laughed. I tried to convince the female lot attendant to cut me some slack because I’d spent the last five hours in police custody.

  “What’d you do, sista?”

  “They accused me of having drugs in my purse, but I didn’t.”

  “Drugs? You packin’ drugs? Girl, you don’t get no sympathy from me.”

  “I didn’t have drugs. The sniffer dog was wrong.”

  “You know it costs like a million dollars to train one of them drug sniffin’ dogs. They’re smart. Way smarter than some people.”

  I rooted through the glove box and managed to come up with enough cash to pay the full parking tab. Then I popped the clutch and screeched my tires getting out of there.

  Although it was one of Hatch’s non-duty days I didn’t feel like calling him. He’d already gotten cranky about my little voyage to Honolulu with Ono. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to a lecture about how I could’ve avoided today’s events by vetting my customers a bit more carefully.

  I called Farrah but I had to leave a message. She must’ve been with a customer. I hadn’t seen her in so long I was sure she would have picked up my call if she could.

  Next, I called Sifu Doug. “Hi,” I said in the sunniest voice I could muster. “Where are you?”

  “I’m home. Laila’s at the grocery store and I’m watching the kids.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “Why? What’s up?”

  “I need to talk to you. I’m kinda in a jam. Can you meet me at the PoP in a little while?”

  When he didn’t answer, I went on, “I’m sorry to break in on your family time. If you want, I can come up there.” Doug’s house was further up the mountain, in Pukalani.

  “No, I’ll come down. I’ll get the neighbor to watch the kids.”

  “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency.”

  “I know. See you down there.”

  ***

  After I caught him up on the events that landed me in an interrogation room at the Wailuku Police Station, Doug’s forehead was deeply creased. “Pali, this is so weird. You know the other day when you told me about finding that hair and the fingernails and all that? Well, I put the word out. A day later my cousin Beni calls and tells me he needs a place to lay low for a while. He says if I take him in, he’ll tell me what he knows about a red-haired haole girl who got herself messed up with some guys he hangs with. But my Laila put her foot down and said ‘no way’ would she let him come stay with us. Beni’s been busted for drugs a bunch of times and even did some prison time over in Waipahu for dealing ice.”

  As he talked, the hair on the back of my neck prickled. Pretty bridesmaid Crystal Wilson was mixed up with local drug dealers?

  “Yeah, so anyway, that’s weird, huh?” he said. “You think Beni might know something, or is he just scamming me for a place to stay?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  ***

  About an hour later—just after five o’clock—my phone rang. “I’m afraid I don’t have good news, Pali. Beni’s pretty whacked out. Says he won’t tell me anything until I promise him a place to hide. He can’t stay at PoP because I’ve got classes tomorrow morning. And Laila’s totally shut me down on him staying up here at the house—even for just a night. Says she hates to turn away ohana members, but she’s afraid for our kids.”

  “I can’t blame her.” I thought it over for a couple of beats. “You know, if he promises to behave himself, maybe I could put him up for a night or two. I don’t have any kids, and I really want to hear what he has to say.”

  “You sure you want my doper cousin on your couch? I bet your roommate’s not gonna vote for that.”

  “I’m not too crazy about it either, but I can’t let this go. Even if Crystal’s a druggie, or involved with druggies, she’s still a human being. I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t at least try to find out what happened to her. The police don’t seem to be doing much.”

  I agreed to pick up Beni at Palace of Pain in half an hour. When I got there, he was hiding in the men’s bathroom. I’d met Beni a time or two before, but the guy who came slinking out of the men’s room looked nothing like the fresh-faced local boy I remembered. This guy resembled the wasted dude on the local “Ice Kills” posters. Skinny—real skinny—with a fringe of greasy dark hair shielding his eyes. The hair, as well as the rest of Beni, looked like it hadn’t been washed in a month. His complexion was a mess; his teeth and gums even worse.

  “Nice to see you again,” I said, lying through my own twice-daily flossed and brushed teeth.

  “Da kine, whatever,” he said.

  The ride back up to Hali’imaile was quiet. Beni slumped in the passenger seat, his face turned toward the passenger window. He lifted his left shoulder and kept it there in a feeble attempt to put a physical barrier between us. I had a bad feeling Steve was going to refuse to pay me any rent for the time Beni spent with us. If I hadn’t had to hand over Keith’s drug money to the police I’d have readily agreed. As it was, I was hoping we could work out a negotiated settlement.

  Beni’s move-in was a breeze. He travelled light, as in he didn’t have a single thing. No change of underwear, no toothbrush, nothing at all. I took him upstairs to the guest room and opened the fold-out sofa. The thin mattress curled up on both ends. It looked about as comfy as a prison cot.

  “You going to be okay up here?” I said.

  Beni nodded. It was impossible to read his expression through the shank of oily hair.

  “I’ll bring up some towels and stuff so you can take a shower. The bathroom’s right next door. You’ll be sharing it with my roommate, Steve.”

  He shrugged.

  “Are you hungry? We’re going to have dinner in a little while. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

  Head shake.

  “Well, if you get hungry later on, no problem. Just come down and I’ll make you a sandwich or something.”

  A shrug.

  “Okay then, I’ll go downstairs and get your linens.”

  Steve had come into the kitchen and was taking things out of the refrigerator to start our dinner. I didn’t look forward to informing him he’d be sharing his upstairs living quarters with an unwashed drug-addled dude with the vocabulary of a mime.

  ***

  Beni didn’t come down for dinner on Thursday night, and he didn’t come to breakfast the next morning, either.

  “What’s with this guy, Pali?” said Steve. “It creeps me out to be sleeping down the hall from a guy I’ve never even seen.” His heaping bowl of health food store granola looked like it contained about as much fiber as a sheet of plywood.

  “He’s in hiding,” I said. “Sifu Doug says Beni’s scared there’s a nasty drug dealer after him. But who knows? Paranoia and meth are like peanut butter and jelly. I’m giving him a little time to settle in and then I’m going to pick his brain about Crystal Wilson.”

  “Assuming he’s got any brain left to pick.”

  “Yeah, he’s kind of a mess.”

  At ten a.m. my patience ran out. Beni had been in my house for almost sixteen hours and I still hadn’t even heard him use the bathroom. Maybe he’d gotten fold
ed up in the sofa bed.

  “Beni?” I rapped on his door.

  No sound from inside.

  “Beni, I have a key that unlocks this door. If you don’t answer me right now, I’m going to assume the worst and come in to save you.” I didn’t really have a key, but sometimes a fib works wonders.

  I heard shuffling across the wooden floor. Then the door opened a crack. The smell made me wonder if he’d rigged up a chamber pot rather than leave the room.

  “Beni, I need to talk to you. Or, more precisely, you need to start talking to me.”

  “Whaddaya want to talk about?” His voice was slurred.

  “Beni, have you been drinking?”

  He laughed a feeble, choking laugh and opened the door a bit wider. Then he turned and flopped face-first onto the rumpled sofa bed.

  The room was dark with the bamboo shade pulled tightly down. It smelled like rancid oil and human sweat.

  “What’s going on? You don’t eat, you don’t take a shower. What is this? Did someone take you to see Psycho when you were at a vulnerable age?”

  “Huh?” He coughed a shallow, but wet, cough. “Hey, you got anything? You know—weed, pills, somethin’ like that?”

  “No, and even if I did I wouldn’t give you any. We have a deal. You can hide out here for a little while, but you have to tell me what you know about the red-haired girl.”

  “Oh shit, man. I don’ want to talk about that—not never!”

  “Look, the only reason you’re here is because you told your cousin Doug you’d tell what you know about her. I need to find her. If you’ve changed your mind, say so. Because if you’re not going to honor your side of the bargain then you’ll need to leave—like immediately.”

  “I can’t talk right now. I’m coming down, eh? Give me a little more time, man.”

  “Coming down? Coming down from what?”

  “You name it. I snorted some ice yesterday and it’s ugly, man. Then I smoked some stuff—hash, I think. But it coulda been somethin’ else.” He held out a hand that shook like a palsied ninety-year-old.

  “Okay, we’ll talk tonight. But here are the rules of the house: you need to take a shower no later than three this afternoon and you’ll come down for dinner at six.”

  “I’m not hungry, man.”

  “I didn’t say you had to eat dinner; I said you had to clean up and come down to dinner. We got a deal?”

  He nodded and put up a hand to wave me away.

  “Oh, and one more thing. When you take that shower, use soap. And shampoo. I’ll bring you some clean underwear to put on after.”

  “Dude, I don’t wear no underwear.”

  “Well, dude, you will while you’re staying here with me.”

  After I left, he slammed the door closed behind me. I stood in the hall trying to decide if I should steal a pair of Steve’s old skivvies or politely ask him for some loaners. Common courtesy won out.

  “No worries,” said Steve. “I’ll get you a couple pair. Just one thing: they only go one way. Under no circumstances whatsoever are those shorts welcome back in my room.”

  ***

  It was just shy of eleven o’clock—plenty of time to drop by and visit Farrah before the lunch-time rush, but when I arrived she was midway through ringing up a big order. I gave her a wave and turned to leave.

  “Hey,” she called out. “Come back in a little while. I need to talk to you.”

  “Will do.”

  Now what? Going home to babysit Beni while he detoxed wasn’t an option I’d even remotely consider. I ticked off the days of the week and realized this was Friday, a work day for Hatch. I could run by the station and say ‘hi’ and maybe gain a few points. I hadn’t talked to him since our tiff over Ono, and I needed some sympathy for all the crazy stuff I’d been through in the past few days.

  I pulled in at the fire station and parked in the visitor spot.

  “Hey, Pali,” said Mona, the stout local gal who served as receptionist, dispatcher, and self-appointed mother hen. “Where you been, girl? We don’t see much of you ‘round here lately.”

  “Oh, I had a big wedding going on this weekend.”

  “Had? Sounds like it’s not going on no more.” Nothing gets by that woman.

  “Yeah, it got cancelled. The bridal couple had to go back to the mainland.”

  “Too bad. You want me to call brudda Hatch out here? He’s in back with the guys. They just rolled in from a medical call about twenty minutes ago.”

  The only reason to call Hatch out front was so she could listen in. “Mahalo, no,” I said. “I’ll just go on back there. I can only stay a few minutes anyway.”

  She scowled as if I was breaking some kind of rule, but ever since Maui Fire began hiring female firefighters, the day room wasn’t the sacrosanct ‘man cave’ it had been in earlier times.

  She picked up the intercom and announced me. I may have danced away from her chance to eavesdrop, but she still wanted me to know who ruled the roost.

  “Hey, babe,” Hatch said, holding the door to the day room open for me. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Just dropped by to see you for a few minutes. Mona said you just got back from a medical call.”

  “Yeah, we got this old lady up in Papohaku who calls every week or so claiming she’s having a heart attack. But her EKG’s are always spot-on normal. I think the only thing wrong with her heart is it’s broken. Lost her husband back in April.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah. Well, one of the guys is thinking about fixing her up with his great-uncle. You know, maybe have him pretend he’s delivering pizzas and he’s lost or something. He could go by her house and ask how to find a phony address in the neighborhood. Then she’ll tell him there’s no such place and he’ll say they might as well eat the pizza together because there’s no way he can deliver it since he doesn’t have a good address. Then he’ll go inside and she’ll get him something to drink and they’ll start talking. Next thing you know, no more phony heart attack calls. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds like you guys are watching too much Lifetime Channel.”

  “Hey, it costs Maui County hundreds of dollars every time we haul her to the hospital for tests. We gotta do something.” He motioned for me to take a seat on one of the battered sofas in the day room. Four guys in station blues were huddled around a computer in the far corner.

  “What’s this I hear about you getting in trouble out at the airport?” he said.

  So much for me tactfully working it into the conversation.

  “It was all a misunderstanding,” I said. “I went down to the police station and got it all cleared up.”

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  So, the cat wasn’t just out of the bag; apparently the cat had shredded the bag and managed to fashion it into a clever booby trap.

  “What’d you hear?”

  “I heard you were hauling drug money and you weren’t exactly cooperative during the interview.”

  I stared at him.

  He stared back.

  “Who’s your source?” I said.

  “Doesn’t matter. If you’re mixed up in anything to do with drugs, I need to know.”

  The guys over at the computer were pretending not to listen, but they weren’t doing a very good job of it.

  “There’s nothing to know.”

  “Fine,” said Hatch. “When there is something, you’ve got my number.”

  “Okay, well fine. I just came by to say ‘hi’ anyway.” I got up and started for the door. Hatch didn’t budge off the sofa.

  “Babe, this stuff can get serious—real quick,” he said from across the room. “If you want to talk, I’m off duty tomorrow.”

  I felt five pairs of eyes follow me out of the day room. I skirted past Mona’s desk without saying aloha and got into my car. I revved up the engine but didn’t put it in gear—just in case Hatch planned to dash out and apologize. After three or four minutes of pretending to w
arm up the car I shifted into reverse and backed out. Then I popped it into first and laid a little rubber getting out of there.

  Next stop, Farrah’s.

  “You free now?” I said coming in the store from the back alley.

  “Well, not exactly free—but I do come cheap.” She’d worn that line out ten years ago but I shot her a smile anyway.

  “Hey,” she went on, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back yesterday. It was wall-to-wall customers all day long and then I had three private tarot sessions last night. But I’ve been worried about you, so sit down and spill.” She pointed to a stool behind the counter and I dragged it over and sat down.

  I caught her up on everything that’d happened the past week. When my shop had been next door to Farrah’s store we’d never gone more than a day without seeing each other, so it felt weird rehashing stuff that had happened so long ago.

  “Okay, let’s see if I’ve got this right: the wedding’s off, your red-haired girl’s been kidnapped by some low-life druggies, the police are up in your grill about some cocaine money Keith Lewis left you, your kung fu instructor’s loser-ass cousin is hiding out at your house, and you just had a squabble with Hatch,” she said.

  “That’s pretty much it in a nutshell,” I said.

  A guy came in the store to buy a pack of cigarettes and I waited while she rang him up.

  “So, about your missing bridesmaid,” Farrah said after he left. “Are the police looking for her now that there’s a ransom note?”

  “I don’t know, but it doesn’t look like it. Wong made it sound like they think she’s just some druggie tourist who got in over her head. He made me promise to stay out of it. I guess they need me to keep quiet so they can turn a blind eye.”

  “Maybe that’s best,” she said. “The cops are busy. They don’t have the time or money to track down people who are hell-bent on destroying themselves.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about her, though. I found her hair on my back seat. Her fingernails were hanging on my doorknob, and the ransom note showed up on my car. And, no matter how hard I try, I just can’t picture the Crystal Wilson I met as some strung-out junkie. She was too clean.”