THE NEXT MORNING, roughly twelve days after Keneke’s death, Koa arrived early at the old mission church near Hāwi to attend Keneke’s funeral. Mourners came from the telescopes atop Mauna Kea, the University of Hawai‘i, and a dozen other places. They filled the hundred-year-old church, overflowing onto the walk, the lawn, and the graveyard. People crowded close around the little church, straining to hear through its open windows. Koa stood in the crowd, watching the mourners.
As Keneke’s uncle Kimo helped a young Asian woman from a black rental car, Koa recognized Soo Lin from the picture in Keneke’s apartment. Even though dressed in black and barely able to hold back tears, her graceful—but proud—posture, subtle Asian features, and perfect skin made her beautiful in ways a photograph could never capture.
After escorting Soo Lin into the church, Kimo joined Thurston Masters and four others whom Koa didn’t recognize in bearing a wooden casket up the narrow stone steps and into the tiny sanctuary. Koa paid particular attention to Masters. Although he had shown little emotion when discussing Keneke’s death in his office, Masters’ long face now bore a solemn, almost depressed expression bearing witness to his grief at the loss of his young protégé.
Just before the service began, an antique black Rolls-Royce stopped in front of the church. The Hawaiian driver sprang out to open the door for a tall, white-haired man in a black suit, who walked slowly up the stone steps toward the church. Without hesitation, the crowd parted, allowing Prince Kamehameha passage into the house of worship. Aikue ‘Ōpua followed him up the aisle to the pew immediately behind Kimo and Soo Lin.
As a young Hawaiian minister mounted the pulpit and spread his arms, the chatter from the mourners receded. “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Praise be to the Lord.” The preacher lowered his arms. “We are gathered together today to comfort and commemorate. We comfort Kimo Nakano, who has lost his only nephew. We comfort Soo Lin, to whom the Lord hath given, and from whom the Lord hath taken, the miraculous starlight of love. We comfort each other for the loss of a uniquely Hawaiian spirit that touched and intertwined too fleetingly with our own lives.”
The minister’s voice waxed and waned, but Koa paid little attention as he scanned the funeral-goers. He didn’t expect to see signs of guilt, and he didn’t. When the service reached its conclusion, Kimo, Soo Lin, and Prince Kamehameha gathered in a knot at the door. Other mourners, waiting to pay their respects, left a respectful space as the tall, white-haired father figure, the stooped war veteran, and the grieving young Asian woman exchanged condolences.
As the crowd flowed from the church, Koa walked to the prince’s Rolls-Royce and, catching the driver by surprise, quickly slipped into the backseat. When the driver protested, Koa flashed his badge and said, “Inform the prince that Chief Detective Kāne is waiting for him.” The driver got out and walked toward the church, and after a while the prince joined Koa in the back of the Rolls.
“Detective Kāne, does your chief condone his officers accosting people at funerals?” The prince’s Oxford English didn’t conceal his caustic tone.
“I thought you might favor discretion over a meeting in full view of all the worshipers.”
“I would favor more respect for my privacy.”
“Prince—” Koa began.
“This meeting is over, Detective. Kalā,” the prince said, speaking to his driver, “could you help Detective Kāne out?” The driver sprang out and opened the door for Koa.
“I guess Chief Lannua made a mistake when he told me you’d help find Keneke’s killer.” Koa spoke the words softly, almost reluctantly.
The prince stiffened at the implicit warning. With an imperious gesture, he stopped the driver. He stared at Koa. When the prince lowered his gaze, Koa figured he’d realized that the matter would be pursued one way or another.
“Leave us alone, Kalā.” The prince waited until the driver closed the door and walked away. “What is it that you want, Detective?”
“We both now know a vital fact I didn’t know when we met at your estate.” Koa wondered if the prince had picked up on the possible meaning of his use of the singular.
“And that is the identity of the Pōhakuloa victim?” the prince responded.
“Yes, and you must want to find Keneke’s killer.”
“Why should I be more interested than the next man?”
“You had a bond with Keneke’s grandfather, old Kawelo, the woodcarver.” Koa thought of kūpa‘a, the loyalty that governed the old ali‘i. “And Kawelo would expect you to help avenge the death of his grandson.”
“One kahuna nui.”
The response puzzled Koa. “Kahuna nui, a counselor to the high chief, not kahuna kālai, an expert woodcarver?”
“Both. The gods guided Kawelo’s mind as well as his hands,” the prince responded. “Old Kawelo was my friend.”
The prince produced a pack of Gauloises and a Cartier lighter with tricolor gold banding. His hand shook as he sparked the lighter and touched the flame to the European cigarette. “Old Kawelo had a premonition that his line, a line that stretched back through many generations of Hawaiian heroes, would end in mea kaumaha loa … tragedy.”
“A premonition?”
“Yes, Detective. Kawelo’s nightmare begot reality, an unthinkable tragedy for the Nine.”
Koa’s mind raced. The Nine were the native Hawaiians who had defied the Navy by trespassing on Kaho‘olawe in 1976 to protest the desecration of the sacred island. Why had Keneke’s death been a tragedy for the Nine?
“For the Kaho‘olawe Nine?”
“Kawelo and the others welcomed his grandson into the ‘ohana and taught him the ways of the god Kanaloa—the secrets of the stars, the legends of the huihui hōkū, the constellations, and the skills of celestial navigation.”
“So Keneke knew the Kaho‘olawe Nine?”
“He was ‘ohana, family, to them.”
“Including Aikue ‘Ōpua?”
“Yes, of course. He is one of the Nine.”
“Did Keneke know that ‘Ōpua took Hawaiian artifacts from Kaho‘olawe?”
Surprise showed in the prince’s eyes for a fraction of a second. “You’ve been in touch with the Maui police?”
The prince hadn’t answered the question, so Koa repeated it.
“They have misjudged my friend Aikue.”
Again, the prince had evaded answering. “How so?”
“The haoles cannot make preservation of our heritage a crime.”
Koa tried a different tack. “What was ‘Ōpua doing out at Pōhakuloa? He didn’t just stumble on Keneke’s body by accident.”
“What makes you say that, Detective?”
“It has something to do with Keanaokeko‘i, the cave of the adze makers. You knew about the workshop before Jimmy and I came to your estate.”
“I think you already established that, Detective.” It was Koa’s turn to be surprised. The prince’s lips curled into a small smile. “That little trick in my garden with the pack of Gauloises. Not many Hawaiians smoke Gauloises, certainly not policemen. You were passing clever, Detective.”
Koa could barely conceal his astonishment. He had to admire the man’s savvy despite the rebuke. He thought of himself as more than “passing clever.”
“When were you last in the workshop?”
“It shouldn’t have been necessary.”
“Why is that?”
“Don’t be stupid, Detective. To visit a secret grave risks disclosure. There are eyes everywhere. There are many evil ones who would disrespect the ancient ali‘i kāne, the ancient kings.”
“But it was necessary. Why?”
“Because, as the haoles say, there was a security breach.”
“How did you learn of this security breach?”
“In the same way that I learned that you do not smoke Gauloises. Ka ‘io nui maka lana au moku. The great ‘io with eyes that see everywhere on the land. Little escapes my notice.” A shadow of a smile flickered across the prince’s face.
Koa understood. Someone in the prince’s network—a retainer, a loyalist, a friend—had alerted the prince to something that aroused his suspicions.
“And you went to see for yourself?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“In December. I walked where only Pele knows the way and entered Keanaokeko‘i. Four hundred moons, more than thirty years, had passed since I had last entered Keanaokeko‘i. The evil one had preceded me.”
“The evil one?” Koa inquired.
“An expression, Detective. Ka po‘e kahiko, the people of old, attributed all man-made evil to the poisonous priest Pā‘ao, who brought human sacrifice to the islands.”
“The evil one was a trespasser?” Koa asked.
“Worse, a grave robber.”
“A recent grave robber?”
“Yes.”
“Couldn’t the open grave chamber off the workshop have been robbed years, even decades, ago?”
“No. Evil just recently walked where only Pele knows the way.”
“How do you know that?”
“Ka ‘io nui maka lana au moku. Believe me, Detective, I know.”
“What stranger walked where only Pele knows the way?”
“I wish I knew. Someone was up on Mauna Kea with explosives. When word first reached my ears, I thought they must be hunters, but they were not hunters. Someone was setting off explosive charges.”
Koa recalled the fragment of explosive cord and the heavy yellow paper that Piki had found near the cinder cone. “Explosive charges, plural?”
“Yes, at least ten of them scattered along the southern side of the mountain.”
“Why would anyone plant explosive charges up there?”
“I have no idea, Detective.”
“How did you make the connection between the explosive charges and unauthorized entry into the lava tube?”
“Mehue, footprints. There were footprints leading to and from the entrance.”
“Did you track them?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Nalowale, lost. The trail disappeared in the lava rocks.”
Koa pictured the scene around the cinder cone. An intruder would disturb the loose cinders, at least until the wind smoothed them, but would leave no trail once he reached the surrounding bedrock. “Did he come back?”
“Not after my visit in December.”
“So you sent Aikue ‘Ōpua out to Pōhakuloa to see whether anyone had been poking around out there.” Koa saw from the prince’s eyes that the guess had hit the mark.
“Not a bad deduction, Detective.”
“You knew before Hikorea and I came to your home that we had found the workshop?”
“Of course.”
“You planted the electronic detector.” The prince’s reaction showed in just the slightest flicker of his eyes. Koa would bet a month’s pay that he had surprised the man.
“You left it in place, didn’t you?” the prince asked, conceding the point.
“That’s how you know that the grave robber hasn’t been back. You had the detector installed after your visit.”
“Yes. You left it in place, didn’t you?”
Koa ignored the repeated question. “So your apparent surprise when we disclosed the existence of the underground workshop was an act?”
“In part. I was aware of the workshop, and I knew that there were burial crypts nearby, but I’d never been inside the crypt with the red canoe. I had no idea about the bird woman. You see, if the grave robber had come back, I would have stopped him.”
Koa had followed the Zimmerman-Trayvon Martin killing in Florida and other so-called self-defense killings. He disliked vigilantes. Intensely. “Stopped him? How?”
“That’s a hypothetical question, isn’t it, Detective?”
“Is it?”
“What are you suggesting?”
Prince or no prince, Koa had a golden opportunity he wasn’t about to pass up. “I’ve been told that ka po‘e kahiko, the people of old, would kill a stranger who trespassed on the grave of a Hawaiian ali‘i kāne and mutilate his body as a warning to others who might trespass.”
“I did not carry the spear of pueo.”
The admission hit Koa like a jolt of electricity. If Aikue ‘Ōpua’s pāhoa had sliced Keneke’s body and the prince knew of the spear of pueo, had one of them killed Keneke? Why? Because Keneke knew something about the Pōhakuloa workshop or the looting of Kaho‘olawe? Was ‘Ōpua part of the tragedy of Keneke’s death? Was the prince covering for his friend ‘Ōpua?
“How did you know about the spear of pueo?” Koa watched the prince intently as he posed the question.
“That is not a secret.”
“It was known only to the police conducting the investigation and to the killer. So I ask you again: How did you know the precise way that Keneke died?”
The two men stared at each other for a long time before the prince broke the silence. “The mayor told me.”
“Damn!” Koa swore before he could stop himself.
Had the mayor really been so indiscreet? Or, Koa considered, had the prince made up a clever cover story, knowing that Koa would never cross-examine the mayor?
Koa wrestled with a host of new revelations as he left the prince and walked back to his Explorer. The prince and Aikue ‘Ōpua were up to something on Kaho‘olawe. They had worked together to protect the Pōhakuloa adze makers’ cave. ‘Ōpua had discovered the body. He had the dagger. And the prince knew about the spear of pueo. The myriad of connections sparked Koa’s deepest suspicions. Collectively, it was almost enough to make an arrest.