Chapter Three

 

The deep shadows of late afternoon and the moaning Kona breeze whipping through the tangled mass of thorny kiawe branches deepened the sorrow in Malia’s heart and set the dreary mood for the bad news she carried. The lanai of Kiki’s parents’ wood-frame home stretched along the front and around the side of the house. The chipped and peeling paint on the eaves of the forty-year-old Aina Haina home and the downed gutter from the last hard wind barely registered in Malia’s mind. She could only think of the sadness she was bringing to people who deserved only happiness. She had no rehearsed words to make this easier. It was always difficult, but never more than now.

Her steps resounded heavily on the natural lava stone walkway. She glanced up at Damon as he strode beside her, tall and erect. What was going through his mind? Was the sadness in his expression real? His woodsy aftershave scent wrapped around her, arousing an emotion she didn’t want to analyze. He took her arm as they went up the three rickety steps; for some unexplainable reason she didn’t pull away. He took the initiative and knocked on the worn wood. The hollow sound thumped back at them.

When Kiki’s mom, Kopa’a, came to the door, Damon greeted her with a long hug that seemed too fierce, too full of regret to go unnoticed. Damn. She didn’t need him upsetting the old woman here on the threshold. She needed to ease into this. Yet, when he stepped back, Malia found herself hugging the woman she called Auntie with the same intensity.

“What is it?” Auntie asked, her smile fading.

Malia took a deep breath. Auntie had always had quick insight. “Is Uncle Toby home?” Malia wanted to tell them together.

A voice came from the living room. “In here, Malia.”

After slipping off their shoes, as was the local custom, they all followed the sound of the booming voice. Toby slouched on the couch, shirtless and wearing his usual home-wear of Bermuda shorts, his stomach hanging over the waistband like an airless inner tube. He held the remote control in one hand and a beer in the other. He muted the TV. “Damon,” he said, getting to his feet and shaking his son-in-law’s hand. “What a welcome surprise.”

Auntie was born in Hawaii to Chinese immigrants, Toby to Korean and Filipino. The blend had resulted in a very exotic and beautiful Kiki. Now she was gone.

Malia stood rigidly next to Damon, watching him closely, waiting for him to give himself away. All she saw in the sharp clean lines of his profile was compassion, regret. Could he really be innocent?

“Sit down. Sit down,” Toby said. He launched into the routine of welcoming them, treating them like family he hadn’t seen for a while, offering drinks and snacks.

“Nothing for me,” Damon said. “Do you want to tell them, Detective? Or shall I?”

Auntie had been frowning since the fierce hugs at the door, twisting the dishtowel in her hands, looking more edgy by the second. “Tell us what?” Her face crumpled. “Oh, Lord. Damon called you detective. This isn’t just a visit, is it?”

“You’d better sit down, Auntie.” Malia put her arm around the woman, guiding her to the overstuffed chair she liked to sit in. Malia’s throat felt raw, tight. “Kiki’s dead. She’s been murdered.” She hated the cold sound of her words, but there was no easy way to tell them that their only daughter was dead.

Malia’s gaze shifted between Kiki’s folks and Damon; it was difficult to gauge how the old folks were taking the news and watch Damon at the same time. But she had to. That’s why she’d brought him here. His face, tight with concern, looked as devastated as she felt.

Suddenly, Toby gasped for breath. Before Malia could react, Damon grabbed up an asthma nebulizer inhaler and assisted the older man until he began to breathe normally. Damon’s quick action showed that he was familiar with Toby’s medications and cared enough to have learned just what to do. That was a point in his favor.

Auntie went to Toby’s side, and the couple clung together weeping. Damon sat down next to them. “Would you like me to call Dr. Fujimoto?” he asked gently. “She can call in a sedative to a pharmacy, and I’ll pick it up.”

Auntie shook her head. She unwound herself from Toby’s arms and sat a little straighter. “Okay, we’re ready,” she said in a strong voice. “Tell us what happened.”

Always a rock, Auntie could be counted on during emergencies. Toby had a harder time coping when things went bad. But he was trying to pull himself together. In spite of the old couple’s efforts to show courage, their faces were gray, drawn and wrinkled, aging years in the few minutes since she’d told them the news. She wished she could take it all back and make them smile again. But she had a job to do. As gently as possible, Malia told them where their beloved daughter’s car had been found. “No one has been arrested yet, but we have some suspects.”

“I’m one of them,” Damon said. Oddly, there was no bitterness in his voice, only a deep sadness.

Auntie’s eyes widened. “Is that true, Malia?” she asked with an incredulous tone. Before Malia could confirm it, Auntie snorted and said, “If it is, that’s ridiculous. Don’t waste your time on such nonsense.”

Toby, eyes glistening with moisture, nodded in agreement. “What are you doing to find the real killer?”

The united support for Damon struck Malia speechless. She knew Kiki’s parents were aware that their little girl was promiscuous, and her insatiable passion for a non-ending parade of men worried them a great deal. But to give such wholehearted support to an estranged husband was rare. He must’ve been a great son-in-law. Still, not convinced that Damon was the good guy they seemed to think, Malia held back the meager details. She would say only enough to give them peace of mind. “We’re canvassing Kunia Road where Kiki’s car was found, the neighborhood near her work, and her condo. We’ll check out any other suspects who turn up.”

“What about composite drawings of the killer, yah?” Toby asked, a quiet rage in his voice. “Broadcast it on every local TV station? And what about road blocks and vehicle checks?”

Malia would have smiled, but her heart was too heavy. Toby was big on watching cop shows on TV. It was easy to be an armchair detective. “We have no witnesses. We’re still trying to locate the true murder site. I assure you my top priority is to get this guy.”

She shifted her gaze to Damon to let him know she hadn’t totally bought his innocence. He stared back at her with a masked expression. If anyone had seen him with Kiki the day of her murder, Damon would be in big trouble. In a lineup, he’d stand out like a leading man among bit players: his height, impressive shoulders, taut lines and certain indefinable something would draw attention to him like a magnet.

Why hadn’t he been enough for Kiki? Her cheating must’ve made him crazy. Big, big motive. Jealousy had driven more than a few men to kill.