Forgotten Witness (13 page)

“So you probably want to know about me,” Stephen bellowed, making this a statement rather than a question.

When Josie looked up all she saw was his grin. All she heard was his bark for attention. She missed the kindness and curiosity behind his eyes.

“Or, perhaps you’d like to say a little something about yourself. What brings you to Hawaii looking like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders? It’s not divorce since you haven’t even tied the knot yet. One last fling, perhaps? If so, then I am your man, indeed.”

Josie shook her head. “I was looking for someone. I thought she’d be here in Maui. She isn’t.”

“It’s a small place,” Stephen said. “What’s her name?”

“Hannah Sheraton.”

“Anything more?”

“She just turned seventeen,” Josie answered, reluctant to give this man too much information. Nice as he appeared to be, she had no desire to be steamrolled by his good intentions. Stephen raised his chin. He pursed his lips. Josie took a drink of her beer and listened to him wax poetic.

“Ah, a runaway. A boy is involved, more than likely. Romeo and Juliette?” He raised his glass, emptying it in between inventing his fiction. When he was done, he revised his story. “No, an older man. That’s it! You’re the mum on the hunt. I see it, of course. Terrible stuff. Terrible.”

Josie took a handful of nuts and resisted the urge to point out that he was of a certain age and sharing his house with three young girls.

“I’m not her mother. I’m her guardian. It’s a long, complicated story that is almost unbelievable. This girl is incredibly resourceful and she’s scared, but she would never admit it. She is probably with a boy. His name is Billy Zuni. If they’re together it’s better than if they’re apart,” she said. “It would all be absurdly ridiculous except that it’s very serious.”

“Truth is often hidden under a mountain of ridiculousness. You just have to know where to put your hand in the pile of manure to find it.”

Stephen raised his glass again only to stare sadly into the abyss when he saw there was nothing left but ice. Josie noted the pinky ring. There was no stone and no engraved initial, just an exquisitely fashioned oval of gold. At his throat was a necklace of Puka shells, on his right wrist a stack of braided leather. His nails were manicured. He was master of all he surveyed. He put the glass on the bar and splayed his free hand on the wood.

“I haven’t heard of anyone by that name on the island.”

“Do you know everyone on Maui?” Josie asked.

“I do,” he answered. “If by some chance I have forgotten who someone is, they know me.” Then he changed again, the happy host was back as Aolani emerged from the back room. “Isn’t that so my darling? Is there a soul I don’t know on Maui?”

Josie looked as Aolani came back in the room. A crown of flowers circled her head and sat low over her brow. She wore a long skirt but carried a grass one. Her midriff was bare and buff and under her open work shirt she wore a bra made of fake coconut shells. She looked into a mirror framed by pink shells as she adjusted the straps on her costume but she spoke to Josie’s reflection.

“Yes, it is true. Everyone knows Stephen.”

“There you have it,” Stephen cried. “If I haven’t heard of Hannah coming to the island, then she hasn’t. The question is why do you think she has?”

Josie pushed aside her drink, got off the stool and went to the front door. When she came back, she had the luggage tags that she had carried from Washington.

“I took these off the suitcase of a man who said he knew where she was. I was able to track the flight number on this one from Maui to Los Angeles and on to Washington, D.C., so I reversed the process and here I am.”

“That is a trek for sure,” Stephen muttered as he took the tag.

“This man went all that way to find me to tell me about her.” Josie got back on the barstool.

“Then why didn’t he tell you exactly where she was?”

“Because he killed himself first.”

Stephen’s eyes flicked up. She offered a little shrug that seemed to say ‘how about that’. He responded with: “I hope you don’t have that affect on all the men you meet.”

“He’s the first one. I don’t think you have to worry.” She handed him the second tag. “This was on the case, too. I went to that street but there’s no such address. I was headed back to Lahaina when you ran into me.”

Before Stephen could respond, Anuhea wandered out dressed in a short, sky blue sarong. Anklets of flowers were fastened above her bare feet. Stephen looked up.

“Lovely, Anuhea. That’s a good girl. Where’s Malia?”

“She’s coming, Stephen.”

“Excellent,” he answered offhandedly, distracted by what Josie had given him. “You are right about one thing. The address doesn’t exist because this isn’t a house on a road and that is not a house number. This place isn’t even on Maui. I know what it is. I know where it is. I do, indeed.”

But Josie wasn’t listening. She was looking at Malia who was ready for work. She carried a grass skirt and a crown of flowers but she wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt the color of sherbet, emblazoned with cheap silkscreen in a riot of island flora. Josie had seen the same shirt in a freezing hotel room in Washington D.C. But this one was newer and there was a part of the design Josie had not seen before. Woven into the design was one word:
Keoloko.

She was in the right place.

***

To the casual observer, Officer Morgan was a pretty simple man. He got a haircut every six weeks, he shined his shoes every night, he and the missus messed around on Saturdays and sometimes they didn’t even wait for the sun to go down. He had planned for his retirement and had a nice nest egg, not to mention the pension that twenty years as a government cop earned him. He had a son in Alaska and they were on good but not close terms. He played cards with a group of guys who he called his brothers. It would seem Morgan was living the dream.

To anyone who knew him well, and pretty much that was limited to his wife who was a saint, Officer Morgan was not a simple man. He often thought deep thoughts. He wondered about life, death, right, and wrong. What he was wondering about as he sat behind his desk was the envelope that held the possessions of one Ian Francis. Deceased. Dead as a doornail. Pitiful in his last moments of life and probably a long time before that. There had been something about the guy that just sort of made Morgan’s heart grow big and sad. Ian Francis had not been your everyday, run-of-the-mill nutcase.

“No, Siree”, Morgan thought as he poked at the stuff with his finger.

Actually, it wasn’t all the stuff in the envelope he had collected the night Ian Francis died that intrigued Morgan, it was the guy’s cell phone. He had found it in the bushes a couple feet from the body, collected it, and forgotten about it for a while. When he found that phone, his first reaction was to do what he always did: mark it and send it on over to the morgue to be handed over to whoever came to claim the body.

He didn’t do that. He kept it and now he fiddled with it. He turned it on. He checked the contacts list. There was just one number. No name came up, only a picture of a serious looking young woman. He had put his thumb on the call button twenty times and twenty times he had taken it off. Any other time he would make the call, find out who was on the other end, offer his condolences, and ask if they had any interest in claiming a body. But this wasn’t any other time. His supervisor was clear: no time on the clock for this one. Period. It came, he said, right from the top. God knew what top he was talking about, but Morgan backed off.

Still, Eugene Weller was interested in this guy who had seriously disrupted Senator Patriota’s hearing. The lady lawyer who had been in the room when he jumped was no slouch as he had found out when he checked up on Josie Bates. It was all feeling a little too over his head and the last thing Morgan wanted to do was get on the bad side of Patriota or his geeky goon, Weller.

Finally, he put the phone back in the evidence bag, took the bag, and left the office. The cameras caught a picture of his ample posterior walking down the hall, his equally impressive stomach when he turned to go back from where he came, and the moment after that when he turned around once more.

It took Officer Morgan a while but he finally made it upstairs and over to the Russell Building where he checked in with Weller’s secretary and asked to see the man himself. Genie left him cooling his heels for ten minutes. One minute longer and he would have left, but Eugene’s timing was good. Morgan had no choice but to do what he came for.

“Brought you something, Genie. I logged it, but I didn’t call the contact.” Morgan handed over the phone. “I’ll be happy to if you want. This is probably the girl that was with him. Just thought you might need to do something first. I don’t know what.”

Eugene looked at the picture of the blond girl. He smiled a true and genuine smile that gave Morgan the shivers.

“Thank you, Officer Morgan. You did the right thing.”

Officer Morgan didn’t smile. He was kind of surprised that doing the right thing felt so crappy.

“Okay. So, just sign for it. Then we’re good.”

Eugene Weller looked at the paper. There were ninety-five signatures on the darn thing. People took responsibility for evidence all the time. He picked up his pen. What could it hurt?

“
Do you know what time it is, Jo?” –
Archer

“You never complained when I woke you up before.” –
Josie

“All right. I’m awake.” –
Archer

“This guy says the place I’m looking for is on Molokai.” –
Josie

“It takes a lot of money to get all the way to Hawaii, but you’re there, check it out. If it’s a dead end, stay a few days and relax. I’m going further north.” –
Archer

“What’s up there?” –
Josie

“Following a tip, same as you.” –
Archer

“The trucker in Sanger?” –
Josie

“The mother in Chowchilla.” –
Archer

“Hannah would never contact Linda.” –
Josie

“She didn’t. Linda thought you might like to handle her appeal in exchange for a lead on Hannah. I told her it wasn’t going to happen.” –
Archer

“So she sent you to San Francisco?” –
Josie

“Oregon. Just figured it couldn’t hurt to stop and see if there was anything going on in San Francisco.” –
Archer

“And?” –
Josie

“No one in the morgue matching their descriptions. No one arrested for prostitution. Negative at soup kitchens and shelters.” –
Archer

“I think Linda’s just getting her jollies. I wouldn’t trust her.” –
Josie

“We’ll see.” –
Archer

“I wish I could sleep.” –
Josie

“You will. When you get home. When we’re all home.” – Archer

“That will be nice.” – Josie

“You wouldn’t have done it, would you, Jo?” –Archer

“What?” – Josie

“Handle Linda’s appeal.” – Archer

“What do you think?” – Josie

“I think maybe. To get Hannah home.” – Archer

“I think it’s a tough call. Goodnight, Archer.” – Josie

“Night, babe. Love you.” – Archer

***

So long as the memory of certain beloved friends lives in my heart, I shall say that life is good.
– Helen Keller

CHAPTER 10

It didn’t take Josie long to realize that Stephen Kyle hadn’t exaggerated. Everyone on Maui did know him. That was because he owned everything that wasn’t bolted down. Keoloko Enterprises owned the biggest chain of souvenir stores on the islands. They were found in every shopping center, strip mall, and on every highway. His stores sold beach towels and shot glasses etched with volcanoes, dashboard dolls that would hula for eternity in pickup trucks from California to Kentucky, Tiki gods, hang loose key chains, plastic leis and ukuleles, taffy, Macadamia nuts in all their incarnations, shirts, and skirts, and salami. If you couldn’t find what you wanted in a Keoloko store, it didn’t exist in Hawaii.

But Stephen Kyle was an expansive kind of guy and the stores just weren’t enough for him. He employed half the local teenagers and housewives to ply his wares from inside fake grass shacks set up outside parks and along roadsides. They sold slices of Keoloko pineapple, cones of shave ice, sunscreen, and more leis. Their husbands, boyfriends and brothers were employed by Keoloko car and tour services and fishing boats. He ran another boat out to Molokai regularly to bring provisions to the three bed and boards on the island and one place that few knew existed and fewer still knew had a name. This was the place Stephen believed Josie was looking for: Ha Kuna House on Molokai, not Ha Kuna Road on Maui.

“Sure you don’t want me to call over first? That might be a better idea then just popping in.”

That was the last thing he had asked her the night before and the first thing he said when she got in the car on the way to the harbor. Both times her answer was the same:

“No. I don’t want Hannah to run. I want one shot at convincing her that the two of them will be safe at home.”

“And how would you go about doing that?” he asked.

“I’d tell her I would die before I let anyone hurt her or Billy,” Josie answered.

“If she thought there was one chance in a million it would come to that, she would never come home,” Stephen countered. “I haven’t met her, but even I know that.”

No response was called for. In a short amount of time she had learned that Stephen Kyle wisdom was a thing to be reckoned with. She and Hannah would never put the other one in jeopardy and that was why Josie needed to see her face to face. That’s how she would know Josie was telling the truth.

They drove twenty minutes from the house to the harbor where he commandeered one of his fleet, a sightseeing boat called
No Problem,
for their journey across the way to the island of Molokai.