Molokai Reef (15 page)

Les
leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “I’ve known,
knew, Dr. Wilson for almost five years. We worked together at
another company before I founded SynCorn. I recruited Ray, uh must
have been almost three years ago now. Brought him out here from the
mainland.”

“
You
knew him well. Did he have any enemies?”

“
Not
a soul. Ray was a dedicated scientist and family man. You know he
left behind his wife, Sharon. Sharon teaches at the Moloka‘i
High School near Kualapu‘u. They had two young children –
Tyler is eight and Ashley just turned five. I attended her birthday
last week. Tragedy, a real gawd-damned tragedy. Pardon me ma’am.”
He nodded to Kara.

“
Sounds
like he was a close friend. Did he use drugs or gamble?” Gybe
asked.

“
Absolutely
not! First, gambling is illegal here in Hawai‘i. Hell, they
don’t even have a lottery - one of only a dozen states that
don’t. Ray would never use drugs. I know that for a fact.”

Sensing
that they were being played like a hooked marlin, Gybe rushed forward
with some slack line. “How long do you think he knew the other
victim, Dr. Splicer?” Gybe asked.

Again,
Les leaned forward in a dominating posture. “Why do you think
they knew each other? I have no knowledge that they were
acquainted.”

“
That’s
odd.” Gybe challenged. “Moloka‘i is a small
island with a small cadre of research professionals.”

“
Look,
I’ve tried to help.” The cigar puffed into overdrive.
“You two are wrong. Your crazy friend Susan,” he glared
at Kara “did it. Hell, the police have arrested her twice here
at my company and there have been other times when I should have had
her arrested. She is wrong. Our methods are safe. We have nothing
to do with that damn reef. She murdered a good friend of mine. Now,
if you’ll excuse me.”

Gybe
pressured Kara’s arm to signal that she should be quiet. They
left.

That
wasn’t very productive, Gybe mused to himself. Kara started
the ’vair and looked to Gybe. The look said what now.

“
Let’s
go back to Jean’s house. If that cop is gone, I want to poke
around.”

24

They
didn’t spot any cops as they returned to Jean’s house.

Except
for the attached carport, the house was identical to Susan’s.
The mismatched carport roof identified it as an add-on. Royal blue
window trim accented the fresh bright yellow paint on the clapboard
siding of the original house. A dusty pink Jeep Wrangler sat under
the carport.

Unlike
Susan’s house, someone had maintained the lanai of Jean’s
house. Gybe walked up the steps and tried the front door. Locked.
Likewise, the side door was locked.

Full
of success from entering Susan’s house, Gybe tried lifting the
corresponding window on Jean’s house. It wasn’t locked,
he could see that. But, it was stuck.

“
Whoa
big boy. What are we going to do if that cop returns? How will you
explain breaking and entering after he warned us to stay away?”

“
I
got us out of the jam before. This one’s on you. Better think
of a good story while I try to get this window open.”

He
tried harder, something creaked.

Kara
stared at his puzzled expression through the top pane of the entire
window assembly that he held in his hands, then she looked at the
rectangular hole in the wall. “Nice work, muscles.”

Still
holding the window, Gybe looked around to see if anyone was watching.
Luckily, the carport and Jeep blocked the view of the neighbors.
“Damn termites.” He leaned the window assembly against
the house.

Kara
stepped through the gaping hole and unlocked the door.

The
floor plan matched Susan’s house. Instead of a Porta-Potti in
the closet, the second bedroom in this home had been divided into a
bathroom and study area. After a quick walk-through, they separated
to search the rooms.

Kara
opened doors and drawers in the kitchen then moved into the bedroom
where she looked through the closet and under the mattress. Gybe
remained in the study and shuffled through Jean’s desk, then
thumbed through the two-drawer file cabinet. Uncomfortable with the
amount of time required to search through Jean’s computer, he
opened the case, removed the hard drive, and took it with him.

“
Should
you be taking that?” Kara had returned to the study.

Gybe
ignored the insinuation. “Find anything in the other rooms?”

“
I
don’t know what I’m looking for. I think she likes to
cook. The spice rack is extensive and these pots and pans belong in
a chef’s kitchen.”

“
Can’t
say much for her taste in music though. She has at least eighty CDs
and a nice sound system. Every CD that I checked was bluegrass!”

“
What
did you find in the bathroom?” Gybe asked.

“
Usual
girl stuff. What are we looking for?”

“
I’m
not sure, but we need to learn about her personal life. Did you find
pills, condoms, diaphragms?”

“
That’s
weak Gybe. Because she’s a woman, you’re trying to turn
her into a slut or something?”

“
PMS
time, is it?”

Kara
saluted with both middle fingers.

“
Cute.
If Jean doesn’t have contraceptives or protection, then that
might indicate a sexual preference. Or maybe she was a closet nun.”

Kara
relented. “I found some condoms in the dresser, but no pills.”

They
returned to the kitchen and were about to leave when Gybe stopped to
inspect the extensive spice rack. It seemed too obvious, but he
opened the oregano jar. What he found inside was not oregano.

25

Kara
pulled the door shut and shook it to make sure it was locked. On a
bench at the front of the carport, Gybe found a roll of painter’s
tape. He sat the window assembly back into the ragged hole, then ran
a length of tape along each side to hold it in place. He placed a
can of blue paint and a paintbrush beneath the window.

Kara
released the brake and depressed the clutch while Gybe pushed the
’vair back down the driveway. A small, once white pickup,
Nissan or Mitsubishi, with a deep gouge above the left rear wheel,
bounced past the carport and stopped next to the greenhouse. Kara
killed the engine when Gybe stopped to watch a small man climb from
the pickup.

“
Who
are you?” The question emanated from a conical peasant hat
floating beneath shoulder level. The hat shaded the eyes of the man
clad in black pajama pants and shirt with socked feet wedged into the
small sandals. Next to him, the truck bed held a well-used lawn
mower, two large green trashcans, and a mound of palm fronds. The
handles of a rake, hoe, and shovel rested on the tailgate.

“
Friend
of Jean’s, who are you?” Gybe responded.

“
Don’t
think so.” The small man’s eyes belied an intelligence
the antithesis to his attire or age. “Miss Jean’s dead.”

“
OK.
You got me, old man.”

Gybe
told the old man that he was a real estate opportunist. From the
obits, he knew the property would soon be available. There were no
local heirs, so he was inspecting the property. To save them the
trouble, he would make a fair, cash offer to her mainland family.
The old man might have bought the ruse. Gybe couldn’t tell.

“
You
the gardener?”

The
man opened the greenhouse door stepped inside out of the sun.
“Garden some. Take care of the corn, mostly. Nice lady.
Tragic what happened. That sortta thing don’t happen here.
And this old man could kick your haole ass.”

Before
him, Gybe counted eleven rows of corn stretching at least forty feet
to the end of the building. Each stalk stood above its own small
planter – half an oak wine barrel. The corn was much shorter
than what Gybe had seen in Iowa. At first, he assumed it was younger
corn. Then he noticed that each plant held several full-size ears of
corn. Maybe it was a midget variety.

“
What
will happen to the corn?” Gybe asked.

“
Don’t
know. Somebody from her work will come for it.”

As
the man watered each plant, he told Gybe that he expected to hear
from that other fellow any day now. The other fellow, Gybe learned,
was a coworker of Miss Jean’s who met with her in the
greenhouse on most Saturday mornings. During the week, Miss Jean
worked late. That’s why she had hired the gardener to tend the
corn during the week.

When
she had the ’vair back on the street, Kara asked Gybe where
they were going next.

“
Take
me back to the harbor.” Gybe said. “Tomorrow, we will
find Jean’s coworker, the one the gardener told us about.”

“
You
think the ’vair is safe here?” Kara asked as she stopped
the car in the same parking spot where someone had used the ’vair
as a bait bucket.

“
The
car still stinks so how can they make it worse? Fill it with squid
instead of fish?” Gybe joked.

“
Besides,
I think you should go back to Susan’s house. I need some time
alone. I want to think about what we know and where we should look
next.”

A few
volleys later, Kara conceded and started the ’vair. From her
posture in the car and the chirp of the tires, Gybe guessed that she
was pissed. And he didn’t care.

26

Gybe
stood at the bow of the inflatable and looped the painter around an
aft cleat on
Makani
. Mongoose with sky blue teeth of the day
greeted him from the aft deck.

Settling
into the cockpit, Mongoose passed a cold Lavaman red ale to Gybe and
placed a basket of chips on the small cockpit table. “Aloha,
my friend, where’s the manic maven of Mendocino? Has she been
thrown off the island?”

“
Ah,
’goose, you’re in love aren’t you?”

Gybe
selected a big triangular chip from the basket. “These chips
are good. From the Hotel Moloka‘i?”

“
Where
else? For sure, none of the grocery stores carry them.”

“
What’s
that sweet smell in the air? You been smoking pakalolo again?”

“
Now
Gybe, you know that crazy weed – marijuana - is illegal. They
could take my boat if they find even one seed. Besides, batu –
ice – crystal meth is the local drug du jour.”

“
Tell
me you’re not a tweaker.”

“
No
way. Use ice and your brain looks like moldy Swiss cheese. I’ve
seen pictures of their brain scans. I’m into the simple
pleasures of beer and chips. And if I can get rid of you before the
canoe races, I plan to pick me one of them sweet young wahine
paddlers after she finishes her practice.”

Gybe
was familiar with the outrigger canoes. It seemed that every port in
Hawai‘i had at least one club. He had heard there were more
than one hundred clubs around the islands. The canoes, similar to
those of the ancient Polynesians who discovered and settled Hawai‘i,
were nearly forty-five feet long. The long narrow, only eighteen
inches wide, hulls, once carved from koa wood, were made of
fiberglass. A small outrigger, or ama, helped steady the canoe in
rough seas. Six paddlers, one behind the other, powered the canoe
through the ocean. Although dubbed six-man, the canoes were as
likely to carry six women as men.

“
Got
the hint. Tell me what you’ve heard since we talked
yesterday.”

Mongoose
repeated most of what he had told Kara and Gybe on their first visit.
Of course, Mongoose had heard about the concrete helmets, Gybe’s
visit to Maui, and their visits with the seed companies. He told
Gybe that when the marine patrol came by looking for a stolen jetski,
he asked about the murders.

“
What’s
the word about town? Do the people think Susan is the murderer?”

“
Mostly.
Susan isn’t very popular. Jobs are scarce, so when Susan
protested against every new form of development, the people resented
her. They don’t want to ruin their island, but they want to
eat. Eat first, protect later.”

“
Catchy,
Mongoose. Why don’t you make up some bumper stickers, ’Eat
first, protect later’ or maybe ’Eat now, save later’.”

“
Good
idea. Gotta keep it short, like their attention span.”

“
Hand
me another beer and bring some more chips.” Gybe was feeling
the effects from the first beer more than he should have. He hadn’t
eaten recently; maybe that was it.

As
the two pals washed down the new basket of chips with the fresh
beers, Gybe explained how he wasn’t able to get much
information from the seed companies. He knew that Mongoose had
extensive computer skills and where he lacked skills, he was capable
of cultivating contacts within the IT community. Could the ’goose
see what he could find out about the victims’ work?

Mongoose
owed him from the incident with the police, but Gybe also played to
the ’goose’s curiosity. He had known Mongoose less than
a month, but his respect for the apparent bohemian continued to grow.