Forgotten Witness (25 page)

“Before we are dismissed, we would like to request a copy of the commitment order,” Stephen asked.

“Susan?” Mohr held out the folder to his clerk. “If you would.”

“And we would like a formal order for generous visitation for Ms. Bates in case Mr. Reynolds continues to be reluctant.”

“Since Ms. Bates seems to be a reasonable woman, I will grant her visitation every other day but in the setting Mr. Reynolds deems wisest. This would include supervision if he thinks that is necessary. We’ll let Mr. Reynolds cap the number of hours so that this does not disrupt his business or upset either Emily Bates or others in his care. However, I will require that access be allowed for at least three continuous hours. We will allow forty-eight hours for Mr. Reynolds to make necessary arrangements. Visitation can begin Sunday. Is that acceptable?”

The clerk returned with the Xerox just as Stephen answered:

“Yes. Completely.”

The clerk was already on the phone, the judge was busy with paperwork and Josie and Stephen were about to leave when the judge had one more request.

“Mr. Kyle? Regarding Ms. Bates’ ward. I’d like a full background on her, too. You can never be too careful.”

“When are you cutting out?” –
Madge

“A day or two. I’ll miss the hash browns.” –
Archer

“Wouldn’t mind leaving myself. Not going to get rich here.” –
Madge

“You’re kind of off the beaten path.” –
Archer

“Tell me about it.” –
Madge

“I like the drawing of you back there.” –
Archer

“I traded some kid a burger for it. She’s pretty good with a pencil.” –
Madge

“I’d pay her to draw one of me for my fiancé.” –
Archer

“Why? She knows what you look like.” –
Madge

“It will remind her of when she liked me.” –
Archer

“Funny.” –
Madge

“What about the girl? Do you know where I can find her?” –
Archer

“She comes in now and again.” –
Madge

“I’m staying down at the Cozy Motel. Here’s the number and something for your trouble. Let her know you’ve got a cash customer.” –
Archer

CHAPTER 17

“Good lord, woman, will you stop looking at the phone like a lovesick puppy? The man is busy. He’ll get back to you when he can.”

Stephen Kyle was behind his desk, gold-rimmed granny glasses sitting on the tip of his nose as he made notes on a legal pad. He hadn’t raised his eyes in the last two hours; not even when he admonished her. Why bother to look when he could feel her vibrating in the quiet house.

Anuhea, Aolani and Malia had finished their chores and flown the coop. The twins had gone surfing. Malia hadn’t bothered to fill anyone in on her plans. Josie couldn’t blame the girls. The addition of one more body had thrown off the rhythm of the place. Still, Stephen had been right to insist that Josie move in. The Grand Wailea was expensive and he had an office from which they could work.

“I’m not looking at the phone and the only thing I am anxious to hear is what he found out,” Josie mumbled.

“Don’t be absurd. I know love sick when I see it.”

Stephen took off his glasses. He put his fingertips to his eyes and rubbed gently so as to “not to get all wrinkly like an old lech”. Josie swung away from the computer.

“How hard can it be to put your hands on a missing person’s report and some medical records?”

“Government isn’t always accommodating and it is Saturday. Besides, even the army doesn’t keep records in perpetuity,” Stephen reminded her.

“The army keep records on everything and everyone forever,” Josie assured him.

“Maybe records that relate to their warriors,” Stephen countered. “Your mother was a spouse. Quite a different thing, if you ask me.”

“You can find anything if you look hard enough. Archer will find it.”

Josie ran over the notes she had input into a file, unhappy with the minimal information she’d been able to dredge from her own memory. She couldn’t remember the name of the family that lived beside them that last awful year at Fort Hood. She thought of contacting her best school friend during that time but she wouldn’t know anything about Josie’s parents. The years in Hawaii before they moved to Ft. Hood were a blur. Her mother was like all the other army wives, exceptional because she was Josie’s mother and Joseph’s wife.

“You are as optimistic as you are selfish, Josie. You just want what you want, don’t you?” Stephen laughed.

“Takes one to know one.” Josie shot him a grin. “What about you? What have you got?”

“A confusing labyrinth of corporate crap, I fear,” Stephen sighed. “I had a bloody hard time trying to track who owns that damn place. Ha Kuna House is a subsidiary of MPS, Incorporated, which is all well and good. MPS is a supplier of hospital goods and are, in turn, owned by another corporation that has a stake in the administrative operations of VA hospitals around the U.S. So, we have a slim connection to the military which might – if we stretch the thread thinner – somehow put your mother into an institution that had some contract with the armed services.”

“Spouses aren’t treated at the VA,” Josie pointed out.

“As I said, a stretch by anyone’s imagination.” Stephen flipped to the next page on his notepad and read his notes. “MPS is a huge concern. They have distribution centers for medication and hard goods, they handle offsite administration and record keeping for more than a dozen private hospitals and seventeen hundred VA hospitals, clinics, community living centers, and domicillaries.”

“Okay, then maybe there was some kind of exception and the Ha Kuna House is a domicillary. That would make total sense. I was just under the impression that kind of thing was for vets only.”

“Me, also!” Stephen barked as if surprised he and Josie were on the same wavelength. “That’s why I drilled down a bit. There is no domiciliary run by the VA in Molokai. There is one on Honolulu and some community outreach on some of the islands but not Maui or Molokai.”

“Curious.” Josie wriggled her fingers, urging him on.

“MPS’s mother company is even larger and has R&D, operational development, medical device manufacturing, and educational materials. They have their thumbs in many pies.”

He relaxed, tossed the notes and rested his crossed arms on his belly.

“Does it not seem odd to you that either of these concerns would own a place like Ha Kuna House? It wouldn’t be more than a mosquito bite of an entry on their big balance sheet. Annoying to deal with I’d imagine, and doubtfully lucrative enough to pay for its own upkeep.”

“At least we’re in the right ballpark,” Josie said. “It would make some sense that MPS would supply and/or own nursing homes.”

“Ah, glad you brought that up.” Stephen waggled a stubby finger her way. “I’ve checked the HCIAS directory for nursing homes and Ha Kuna House isn’t listed. Granted, that agency has strict licensing parameters and since there are no registered nurses or physicians on staff, the facility might not qualify to be listed. If it is a domiciliary, elder care or some such, there is no state licensing that I know of for that. They have an EISN. It’s on the paperwork they completed when doing business with Keoloko. I’ll have my accountant run it down on Monday and try to find a business license and tax returns. Since they are a holding of a publicly traded corporation, we should be able to find them on an annual report. Ha Kuna House is like a bastard child. It exists and yet no one wants to claim it.”

“It still comes back to money for me. Who is paying for it?” Josie flipped her pen and caught it.

“I know a lovely lady over at the Medicaid offices. She says there is an ongoing research grant from Health and Human Services that folds Ha Kuna House into the mix. I’ve given her the names of the four folks under Reynolds’ care. She’s going to see what she can find on those individuals. You know, Medicaid payments, perhaps social security information.”

“Can we find out what the terms of the grant were?” Josie asked.

“I doubt it’s top secret,” Stephen chuckled.

“Then I suppose we can extrapolate that Ian Francis was a professor researching neurological problems and was possibly covered under this grant. The government isn’t paying for a privately held facility but granting an award to an individual. Ian chose Ha Kuna House from which to do his research and that makes things legal.”

“And he shared that amazing windfall with Reynolds or whoever was here before him? I doubt it. An individual grant wouldn’t be enough to heat the place or pay an administrator and staff,” Stephen reminded her.

“That we know of,” Josie countered. “Anyway, lucky Ian to get a job when he was sane and a facility at his disposal when he went bonkers.” She tossed the pen again and it seemed to rotate lazily before she caught it. “It would sure change things if Ian was dealing with something viral and not psychological. Maybe that’s why this is all so secret. Think about it, Stephen. The guy was doing his research thing and then years later comes down with whatever ails the subjects he’s supposed to be studying. If that’s the case, then it makes sense that Ha Kuna House is so remote. Do you think we should be looking at the CDC?”

“You mean like the lepers? Wouldn’t that be quite the irony to stumble on a new colony on Molokai? Only instead of people losing their ears and noses, they lose their minds. I shall want the rights to that museum. I’ll make a bloody fortune.”

Josie crumpled a piece of paper and threw it at him.

“Worse things could happen to a bloke,” Stephen insisted. “Ha Kuna House is a kind of a proper place, don’t you think? No one is in any pain. They are happily unaware that they are unaware. If I lived there I’d make me a fantasy that I was an Arab prince with a harem.”

“That is your real world. And don’t forget, Ian is dead and Amelia has inherited his obsession. Not a happy ending.” Josie pointed out just as his phone rang. He was on and off in less than a minute.

“This is an interesting turn. Robert Cote is the name on the deed of Ha Kuna House. Land records, Josie. The land upon which the place is built is the stone no one would think of turning over. Copies of the records will be sent along. It was purchased for cash in 1986. It was a private transaction.”

“That makes no sense.” Josie swiveled back to her desk and found the copies of the original commitment papers Amelia had provided.

“Ben Farrah, 1964. Amy Sloan, 1972. Marcel Washington, 1966. Ha Kuna House was already established as far back as sixty-four. Why would someone buy it in eighty-six?”

“In Hawaii we buy the building, not the land. That building has been around since the late eighteen hundreds wouldn’t you say? By nineteen eighty-six the lease would have come up. This man simply bought the house in eighty-six and owns the structure and the right to keep the damn place running.”

“How much did he pay?” Josie asked.

“Fifty thousand to MPS Corporation,” Stephen answered.

“Then why is Amelia still getting her paychecks from MPS?”

“Perhaps they needed to get it off their books. The plan would be to divest the smaller properties to individuals working under a separate business license but retain the administrative responsibilities.” Stephen pushed himself up. “Would you like some coffee?”

“No, thanks.” Josie tucked her phone in her back pocket and followed him as she kept the conversation going. “And why would they do that?”

“Depreciation was depleted, something like that. Perhaps they needed to show additional income, although what the man paid is a pittance. When we get to the bottom of this I promise, the owning and running of Ha Kuna House will be nothing stranger than some entry on a balance sheet.”

“Except this isn’t really relevant. We don’t need to know who owns the place we need to find out who makes the decisions. Reynolds is going to have to divulge that in his report to the court, but I don’t want to wait.” When they got to the kitchen Josie stopped in front of the cabinet and Stephen shooed her away so he could get to the coffee cups. But she kept talking. “And think about this. In ’86 there were twenty-five residents. Wouldn’t the new owner have to notify the families of the change?”

“Not necessarily. I could easily sell Keoloko Enterprises or hand it over to my son – if I had one, of course – and the business would go on. He wouldn’t necessarily have to advise the clients that it was transferred. They would still place orders and be billed by Keoloko.”

“We’re not talking pineapples. Each resident must have had an advocate of some kind. Ha Kuna House couldn’t unilaterally make decisions for all of them.”

Stephen shrugged, “What if, like your mum, they had no idea who their family was?”

“Twenty-five people all end up in one place without any personal information? Come on.” Josie put her rear against the counter and crossed her arms as if to underscore the ridiculousness of that proposal.

“Of course there is some information, woman,” Stephen scoffed. “Reynolds isn’t an idiot nor is he a monster. It’s not like he’s got a little zoo over there. Social services will investigate and report to the court, the court will issue an order, and we will be given your mum’s records. That’s all we want – unless you’ve decided to help little Amelia investigate all those dead folks.”

Josie shook her head. “No, but when we get to court I want to know everything so Ha Kuna House doesn’t drive the narrative. If we could locate even one other family who wanted information that would give us leverage.”

“Agreed.” Stephen pulled a face. “Aolani made the coffee today. Poor girl. Quite challenged in the kitchen.” Stephen added two teaspoons of sugar but still was not happy. “How are you coming on your statement about little Hannah?”

“It’s coming along.”

Both of them knew that Hannah’s status as a runaway and the threat of possible violence should she return to Hermosa would not sit well with the court. Josie would leave it for as long as she could.

“There are no death records in Hawaii for any of the people who supposedly passed away at Ha Kuna House, by the way. I’ve looked up all but three,” Josie changed the subject.