Haole Wood (8 page)

Halmoni shut the TV off. She rubbed a foul-smelling liquid on my arms and face and pointed upstairs. “
Ho’i e moe
,” she said.

I was only too happy to declare this day over and listen to her advice to go to bed. I crawled under my covers and gently eased my shoulders down on the mattress.

In spite of my headache, crispy shoulders, angst over losing my job, not feeling very proud of myself for sleeping with a guy one night and having to face him looking like a sautéed catch of the day, I couldn’t cry. I shifted my shoulders before continuing my countdown of woe. I had been a busy, busy saboteur, I thought. I can’t believe I had drinks and flirted with a guy who was now dead. The fact that the police suspected me or my grandmother of killing him was as rank and unsettling as the smell reeking from my face and arms. I practiced a calming yoga breath, which turned out to be a really bad idea. PU. Like not being able to look away from an accident, I sniffed again. Whatever my grandmother rubbed on me smelled like a mixture of vinegar and sweat, now fermenting with the heat of my body. I knew the police would be back tomorrow. I did have an alibi. I had been frolicking with the island’s favorite dermatologist.

The ride home last night had been kind of hazy. Funny, I had total recall of our good night kiss, though. I had no idea what time Jac brought me home. I didn’t know if my grandmother had been in her bed or not. I’m sure she had been fast asleep. Where would she have been? Halmoni was a healer. She wouldn’t hurt anyone.

I yawned so widely the back of my jaws cracked. I smoothed the side of my cheek into my pillow and closed my eyes on the weird shadows flickering in my room. I would get this straightened out tomorrow and blow this pop stand and head back to nice, normal San Diego by the weekend.

I woke up early, starving. In my book, hunger trumps laziness. I drank some tea and snuck some chips and ketchup when my grandmother wasn’t looking. I’m sure she thought my toast was extra crunchy. I still felt woozy and my vision blurred. I wondered if my brain got sunburned, too. I kept seeing things that weren’t there.

I finished my salt-fest and grabbed my water bottle. I walked out of the kitchen and saw that my eyes had not been playing tricks on me. In my grandmother’s corner club chair sat a giant naked Hawaiian man, the size of a mini-Cooper.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” I yelled. My heart pounded. “Get out! I’m going to call the police. In fact, two detectives are already on their way here,” I ran for the phone.

“Sister! You can see me?” he said.

I stopped in my tracks and couldn’t help but look over my bubbled sore shoulder. “What do you mean?” He was kidding, right? He was built like a sumo wrestler.

“Honey-Girl, if you can see me I am in big trouble. You are not supposed to see me.” He stood up and looked at his hands. “For real?”

“How could I not?” I said. I turned back around to face him. I tried to keep my eyes up and not look south of his belly button, an impressive innie which appeared to be able to store a small teacup. I focused on his brown eyes that crinkled as a big smile with dimples marking its endpoints broke through his light brown skin. Oops. I let up for one second and my eyes swooped down to ground zero. My head reared back. For one split second I had to fight the giggles. My sister and I had always cracked up at the poor nuns in our grade school trying to give the health and human hygiene talk, (the one for which we needed a signed permission slip) that came complete with illustrated pictures, drawn on the chalkboard by the brides of Christ themselves. I may not have much in common with my sister, Josephine, but we both never failed to laugh at the cover of Dr. Seuss’s
Horton Hears a Who
. What stood before me though, was no joke. I shook my head. I must be hallucinating. Surely, I was not staring at some three hundred-pound man’s privates.

I tore my gaze away. “What’s that on your lip?” I pointed.

His tongue reached out and swiped it away. “Nothing,” he answered, his eyes shifting.

My hand covered my mouth. “Was that . . . blood?” I stepped back and looked around frantically for my cell phone.

He started laughing. “Blood. That is a good one. Do you think I eat animals?” He had a deep, booming chortle. “I am not a vampire, either, just so you know.” He stopped laughing and ran his hands through his black curly hair. “So, you can see me?”

“Yes.” I stamped my foot. “Who are you and what are you doing in my grandmother’s house? Naked, no less?” I grabbed my beach towel and tossed it at him. He caught it and tried to wrap it around his waist. It covered him as if it were the size of a dish towel.

“Get out. Right now. Before I call the police.”

He raised his hands up in front of him and pumped the air. “Calm down, Jaswinder. Everything is going to be fine.”

“How do you know my name? Do you know my grandmother?”

“Of course.”

“So, she was expecting you?” My eyebrows crept up to my hairline. “And why wouldn’t you put on clothes or something?” Just then I heard my grandmother. Thank God. I turned to greet her. “Halmoni, a friend of yours just showed up,” I said to my grandmother who just nodded and smiled back at me. I pointed over to nakie-guy. “He didn’t tell me his name . . .” My grandmother just stood there. “Halmoni, look.” I jabbed my finger toward the elephant in the room. My grandmother’s gaze flickered before looking back at me. “Do you know this guy? Is he a friend of yours?” No response. “A client? A giant?”

Halmoni shrugged her shoulders and headed back into her kitchen.

“Wait.” She just smiled at me over her shoulder and kept walking. I turned back to the man. “What is going on here? My grandmother walks in the door and pretends she can’t see a big and tall fellow like yourself wearing nothing more than a smile? I thought you said you knew her.”

“I do.” His face beamed. “She just does not know me.”

“Get out!” I raised my voice. “Now!” My head throbbed and this baboon needed to be gone. I stomped to the front door. “Please. Leave.”

“Jaswinder,” he began.

“What? You’re making me very uncomfortable.”

“Your grandmother does not know me because she cannot see me.”

“Right. And she can’t see you because you are so hard to miss.”

“Well, she cannot see me because she is not supposed to. And neither are you. It is the most curious thing. I am sure I am in trouble over this, but I do not know how it happened.”

“How what happened?” I asked.

“How you can see me.”

“No offense, pal, but you’re a pretty big target.” His nostrils were so large, my mom would have thought he was a cocaine addict, somehow thinking the two were related.

He laughed. “I know my energy field is large,” he said. “I guess I must cut back on the ketchup.” He looked at his hands again, then back at me. “What exactly do you see?”

“Quit messing with me and just leave. I’m not feeling that great and since my grandmother doesn’t know you, you’ve got to get out of here.”

“I know. What with your sunburn and losing your job, and that hangover, and totally feeling disconnected—”

“Have you been spying on me? Are you a stalker or something?” I reached for Halmoni’s floor lamp. I felt really queasy. I had a suspicious feeling that I somehow knew this guy. But, I am sure I would have remembered meeting him. I asked him again. “Have you been following me?”

“That is one way of looking at it,” he said.

“What’s another way?” I demanded.

He wiped his conch-sized palms over his face. “Oh, Supreme Being. I have never heard of this before.” He smiled over at me and crossed his arms. “I am your guardian angel.”

My skin felt hot and prickly all over. Dark spots whooshed before my eyes. I knew I was hallucinating because when I took a deep breath, for a split second, instead of fearing for my sanity, I thrilled at the idea of having a guardian angel. Maybe he was who he said he was. At last, help had arrived. I even speedily made a deal with the Big Kahuna in the sky: If this was truly my guardian angel, please let him get me out of this mess, help my life move forward in a beneficial way, and I will, well, do something good, I’m sure. Bake cookies for the aged. I took time to backtrack to define my little prayer, because who hasn’t heard of wishes going astray? Just to be clear, by beneficial I didn’t mean being sent to Africa to help orphans or anything, I was just looking for a great love life, career, that sort of thing. If there are any bonus points given out for being good, I would also like to ask for a little somethin’-somethin’ for my Halmoni, keep her safe and out of trouble, and if it’s not too much to pray for, make my parents and sister like me.

“Is that all?” He said. He was still there, standing across the room when I opened my eyes. He looked like he knew what I had been thinking, but that was ridiculous. We faced each other. He uncrossed his arms, but furrowed his eyebrows. “Though there is much magic in the universe, there are no magical shortcuts. Life has meaning when you take time and make the effort.” His bulk loomed larger than ever.

“Thanks, Mom!” I felt dizzy, as fear kicked in. He did not look very benevolent anymore. I waited for a hint of his smile. I hate it when anyone, apparently even a fragment of my feverish imagination, was mad at me.

“Honey-Girl,” he shook his head. “You do not even know the half of it.” His kind smile scared me even more than his mean face. “Brace yourself.”

I grabbed ahold of the back of the chair but before I could ask what he meant, I heard a police siren and wheels churning up stones in my grandmother’s driveway. Thank God, she called the police. I ran to the front door.

“Halmoni!” I called out just as the doorbell rang. Then I glanced back, but Jumbo was gone. Where’d he go? Was I having a nervous breakdown?

Though there apparently had been a lot of people waiting in line to take a shot at Mike Hokama, my grandmother was definitely in the top ten list. Detective Bobby Morgan spread his hands. Detective Imada stood beside him at the door and cleared his throat. I waved them inside, into the kitchen.

“Ms. Park,” he said to me. “Even though your name and cell phone number is the last entry in the victim’s phone, you’re not currently a suspect. We have reason to believe your grandmother may have been involved.”

Yay, for me, but crap. “No way,” I said.

The detective shifted his weight from side to side and wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Oh, come on,” I said. “Look at her.” I pointed to my teeny Halmoni, wearing an orange and yellow print cotton Hawaiian house dress. “She’s a healer. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.” I was pretty sure. “Why would she kill him?”

“He was a hot-shot developer with a lot of power. And, he wanted her land,” Officer Morgan said.

“He told me she refused to sell, and that was that.”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly, what?”

“Mike was known on this island for never taking no for an answer. He would have gotten this land, one way or another.”

“My grandmother wouldn’t have sold. Where would she have gone? She’s not rich, but she doesn’t need the money. He couldn’t have forced her.”

Detective Imada sighed. Unless Jean Paul Gaultier has a new fragrance I am unaware of, Eau de Buried Cabbage, the detective was sporting another firecracker batch of kimchi. Maybe it was his interrogation technique. “He probably could have forced her,” he said. Nearly visible fumes of garlic wafted out of his skin. “Mike Hokama had a couple of politicians in his back pocket and with a few funky tax shenanigans, they could have driven your grandmother out.” He nodded over at Halmoni, sitting quietly at the table, drinking her tea. I couldn’t tell from her expression how much she understood, or what she thought. Or smelled. She invited them to sit at the kitchen table with her.

“I had my grandmother’s jeep. How would she have gotten to his house and back, in the dark?”

“He only lives about a mile from here. Which your grandmother knew.”

“I would imagine a lot of people know where Mike Hokama lives.” I shrugged my shoulders and mouthed off with backwards jazz hands, which I found to be a little more grown up than an eye roll. This was Maui’s finest? “You’ve got to have more than that.”

“Look. We all know and like your grandmother.” He nodded at Halmoni. “But it looks like Mike Hokama may have been poisoned. And, your grandmother has the know-how to do it.”

“Come on. You don’t really think she would have done this.” I swiped my hair back behind my ears.

“She has no alibi, she has a motive, and the fact that he was poisoned puts her on our POI list?”

“Poi?” I was totally confused.

“Not that kind of poi,” Detective Morgan said. “Person of Interest. Although I’m sure hearing that about your grandmother also gets stuck in your throat.” He ducked his head. I’m not sure if he was sympathizing or ashamed of his partner’s trite poi joke.

I nodded.

“We don’t want to scare you,” Detective Morgan continued, “But this is very serious. We are just doing our job and we have to be very thorough. We won’t know exactly how he was poisoned until we get the autopsy results back. And, she was seen at Hokama’s place earlier in the day.”

“What? Impossible. Why would she have been there?”

Detective Imada shrugged his shoulders. “She told us she had an appointment with him. She said he asked her for help with stomach problems he had been having and she took him some of her herbs for tea. I imagine he brought up trying to buy her property again, and that probably made her angry.”

“Objection!” I called out. I hadn’t spent years in front of the TV for nothing. “Conjecture.”

He held up his hand. “I’m just trying to explain things to you, how the DA may lay things out. We’ll have more questions for you and your grandmother, and the more you can find out,” he jerked his head toward Halmoni, “the sooner we can solve this case.”

The men stood up. “And don’t go anywhere,” Detective Imada added.

“What? You mean I can’t go back to San Diego? I have to—”

“That’s exactly what I mean. You need to stay put until we’ve completed our investigation.”