4 Kaua'i Me a River (25 page)

“The island was different then.
Everybody knew everybody. And everyone knew their place. My
ohana
got
along okay. We were
haole
-looking, like you, but we’d been here since
the plantation days. My father worked sugar up in Kilauea. He rose through the
ranks until he was in charge of a big operation up there. But he never owned
nuthin’. Never owned a house or a car. His whole life he knew he’d never be
more than a hard-workin’ company man.”

Again, a few coughs, deeper this
time.

“Anyhow, so this call comes in about
a DD up north. I was just leaving a meeting up in Princeville, so I called in and
said I’d take the domestic. Every so often, I liked to take a call. You know, there’s
just so much paperwork you can do before you stop feeling like a cop. When I
get to the incident address, I see a guy standing outside. He’s holding a
baseball bat and he looks all wild in the eyes and like that.

 “The neighbors were nowhere to
be seen. Prob’ly the bat scared ‘em off or they didn’t want to get involved. I
don’t blame ‘em. I had no idea what had happened or what the dude was thinkin’.
I know I was thinkin’ I shoulda called for back-up.”

“Did you recognize the man?” I
said.

 “Nope. I was familiar with most
everyone on the island; even a lot of those hippie-types up there, but I
couldn’t remember ever seeing the guy before. Anyhow, I talked him into handing
over the bat and then he started cryin’ and actin’ all sorry and all that.

A few more coughs. “I asked him to
tell me what happened and he pointed to a little
ohana
out back. We went
in and I saw two people on the floor—a man and a woman. Neither was movin’. Even
so, I use my radio to call for a bus, you know, an ambulance. I turn around and
see the guy’s on the damn phone. Now, two things come to mind. First, I’m the chief
of police, and I’ve let a perp out of my sight for long enough to make a phone
call? And, second, who was this kid calling? His lawyer?

Arthur went on. “So, I go over to
snap on the cuffs and he pushes the phone at me and says, ‘
My father wants
to talk to you.’
To my dying day I won’t know why I took that phone.

Arthur was wracked by a long bout
of coughing. When it ended, he pulled out a balled-up handkerchief and wiped
his mouth. “Sorry. I’ve had a cold for a while now.”

I waited.

“And here’s where it goes bad,”
he said. “Here’s where I come to that fork in the road you hear about.”

This time when he stopped
talking he didn’t cough. Instead, he scrubbed his face with his hands. “I take
the phone and the guy’s father said something I’ve never forgotten.”

We locked eyes.

“He said,
I already lost one
son. I’ll do anything if you’ll help me not lose them both
. By then, I knew
the ambulance was on its way. I had to think fast.”

He stopped and looked at me as
if giving me time to put the pieces together. “Phil Wilkerson was the guy with
the bat.” I said.

He nodded.

“And his brother, Robert, and my
mother, Marta Warner, were the two people on the floor.”

He nodded again.

OMG. As the puzzle pieces fell
into place, the picture that was forming was too horrible to imagine.

Arthur Chesterton continued, “Seems
your father had gotten wind that his former girlfriend—your mother—had up and married
his brother. He came over to try and win her back, or anyway that’s what he
told me, but he ended up killing them both instead.”

I couldn’t breathe. It was as if
someone had clamped a hand over my nose and mouth and gut-punched me at the
same time.

“But Sunny told me…” I said.

“Who knows what she knows? Phil didn’t
come clean to many people. He told my Peggy, because, what the hell, she
wouldn’t say nuthin’. Her old man was as guilty as him, maybe more.”

“Did Phil push Robert’s body off
the cliff?”

Arthur nodded, “And I helped
him. Even drove him up there.”

“But what about the ambulance?”

“We’d headed out before they got
there. I radioed I was chasing down the alleged assailant, who’d taken off.”

 “Why?”

“I already told you why. The old
man wanted me to protect Phil.”

“I meant why did you agree to
cover this up? You were the chief of police.”

“I was. But I wanted more. For
my kids, my
ohana
. I wanted to be mayor.”

“And Phil’s father helped you?”

“He sent me three times more
money than I needed for the campaign. And every year on the anniversary, I’d
get a nice check in the mail.”

“Who came up with the story of
Robert coming in with the bat?”

“That was Phil. While we were on
our way up to Kalalau, he figured it out. He wanted to say he’d wrestled the
bat away and had killed in self-defense, but how did that make sense with two
people down? And, I was worried about the forensics. We had to get rid of the
bat.”

“And so Robert committed suicide
and took the bat with him when he jumped.”

I stared at the floor. My breath
was coming in strangled gulps and my eyes stung.

Arthur took my hand. I didn’t
pull it away. “I know what I did was wrong, but where was the hurt? I saved your
father from prison and then his father saved me from a second-rate life.”

“You don’t believe that,” I
said.

“I don’t anymore. But that’s
what I told myself for years. When Phil asked if he could marry Peggy, you can
imagine what I thought. I knew he’d killed before, and I worried about her
every day. But it wasn’t as if I could say anything. And for what, twelve or
thirteen years, they got along fine. Then he met that other gal and broke Peggy’s
heart.”

“But Sunny said you all kept in
touch.”

“Oh, you bet I did. You know
what they say, about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer? Phil
and I had a bond. It’s strange, but I grew to love him like a son. AJ used to
throw fits over Phil always hanging around.”

“When I first heard about my
mother being killed I thought AJ killed her.”

“No, AJ’s never loved a woman
enough to do that.”

A cold shiver made me rub my
arms. “I need to let you get to your dinner.”

“
Mahalo
for coming to see
me,” he said. “I’m sorry about your mother. I’m afraid by the time I got there it
was already too late. I hope you understand why I did what I did.”

I would never understand but
there was no use spitting in his face. I thanked him and went outside to my car.
Then I put my head in my hands and cried.

CHAPTER
31

When I finished crying, I wiped
my face on my shirt sleeve and got back on the road to Sunny’s. I felt a
white-hot flame in my chest that would only be extinguished by watching her squirm
when I revealed how her precious Phil had been not only a liar but a murderer.
And not just any murderer. He’d not only killed the mother of his child, but
his own brother. As painful as it was to think about, I couldn’t help but pray Phil
had killed my mother first, sparing her the anguish of watching her husband suffer
and knowing her own fate was sealed.

I had to keep looking down at
the speedometer. I was going over sixty on Kuhio Highway, but it felt like I
was merely inching along.

I focused on my breathing. Sifu
Doug was big on breath control. He’d had us practice until we nearly passed
out. I hated breath training. It was boring. And in a match, when I got on the
mat and lifted my head to face my opponent, breath control was usually the last
thing on my mind.

But now I was acutely aware of
my breathing. It was fast and shallow; the kind Sifu Doug cautioned against. I
drew a long breath in through my nose and held it for a count of ten. Then I
released it through my mouth, counting to fifteen. After a few controlled breaths
I felt a little better. But only a little.

***

I roughed up the rental car as I
careened down the bumpy track to Sunny’s, but managed to make it to the main house
without breaking an axle. She must’ve heard me coming, because she came out on
the lanai and waved. I got out and went up to meet her.

“Have a seat,” she said.  “Where’ve
you been? I was starting to worry.”

“Well, I’m afraid you’re not
done worrying,” I said, taking a seat next to her. It wasn’t a great opening
salvo but it would have to do. I was too eager to get to the knock-out punch to
finesse my words.

She squinted.

“I was just over at Garden
Island Manor,” I said. “I had a nice chat with your former mayor.”

 That brought out a big smile.
“Phil loved Arthur. Phil told me that after his father died, Arthur treated him
like a son.” She reached over and patted my knee. “Tell you what, you’ve been
gone all day and I’m sure we have a lot to talk about. Let me get you a mai tai.
It’s my special recipe.”

I hesitated. “I haven’t eaten
much today. Maybe I’ll have one later.”

“I’ve got dinner waiting, so
I’ll just make it a short one. You look exhausted.”

She went in the house and came
back carrying two ceramic cups shaped like pineapples. She’d garnished my drink
with the obligatory paper umbrella and cherry-on-a-pick.

“Why didn’t you give yourself an
umbrella?” I said.

“I save those for guests. And
those cherries make my tongue itch. Cheers.” She held up her cup and we
clinked. “Now tell me that’s not the best mai tai you’ve ever tasted.”

I took a sip and it was good. A
bit on the sweet side, but tasty.

“Your dad taught me how to make
these. According to him, Peggy was quite a fan before she stopped drinking.”

“Listen, Sunny. I’ve learned
something you need to know from Arthur Chesterton.”

“You know, our former mayor
lives in a nursing home for a reason.”

“It’s not a nursing home; it’s
assisted living.”

“Whatever. But the man’s not,
you know, all there.” She tapped her head.

“He seemed ‘there’ enough to me.
He told me Phil went to college but then he came back in 1981 and discovered my
mom had another baby and she’d married his brother and he—”

“Sweetie, you’re rambling. Drink
up so we can go in and have dinner.”

 I saw something in her eyes
that made me change course. “You’re right, I’m so tired. Why don’t you go on in
and I’ll finish up?” I said. “I need to wash up first.”

 “Good,” she said. “See you
inside.”

***

I poured the drink down the
bathroom sink. After not eating all day the last thing I needed was a syrupy
mai tai. I washed my hands and went into the dining room.

About
halfway through dinner the room began to swim. I tried shutting my eyes but
when I opened them again everything was in a different spot. I had a hard time
gripping the fork and I dropped it at least twice.

“Are you
okay?” said Sunny.

“I
don’t know. My stomach feels a little off.”

I’d
decided that as much I’d enjoy watching Sunny squirm, I should report Arthur
Chesterton’s confession to Detective Wong about before I said anything to
anyone else. Sunny chattered through dinner and never once asked me to finish
telling about my visit with Arthur. As she blathered on, I got the sinking
feeling she may already know the truth. 

“You
look so wiped out,” she said. “Let me make you a cup of ‘sleep happy’ tea while
I clean up the dishes. I love the stuff. After Phil died I used to have a cup
every night to help with insomnia.”

“I
don’t think insomnia will be a problem,” I said.” I could fall asleep right
here.”

 “But
I want to hear what crazy Arthur told you. Why don’t you go on out to the lanai
and put your feet up. I’ll bring the tea right out.”

“Can
it wait until tomorrow?” I said. “I’m so exhausted.”

She
looked annoyed. “Suit yourself.”

I
staggered to the guest house with my stomach in an uproar. I felt drunk-sick even
though I’d had less than half of the mai tai. I flopped down on the sofa. No
way could I bring myself to sleep in the murderer’s bed.

***

On
Wednesday morning the sun was streaming in the windows when I woke up. My
stomach felt raw and I had a roaring hangover. Then I remembered my visit with
Arthur Chesterton and I made myself get up.

I used
the bathroom but it didn’t make me feel much better. I splashed water on my
face and headed over to the main house. I tried the door, not bothering to
knock. When I got inside, I heard Sunny on the phone in the back somewhere. The
sound of her voice made my stomach hitch and I felt sick again. I nearly made
it to the guest bathroom in time. Nearly, but not quite.

I’m
not a sickly person, so vomiting always catches me by surprise. But there it
was, on Sunny’s spotless bathroom floor. I felt a little better but my stomach
still burned. I dragged myself to the kitchen to find something to clean up the
mess.

I
grabbed the edge of the sink and worked to control my breathing. When I’d
regained a bit of composure, I opened the cabinet under the sink to look for a
rag.

I
moved a few things around and then I saw it. It was a bulky yellow plastic jug
with an unfamiliar label. Unfamiliar, but not unknown.

I’d
first come across anti-freeze when I was doing my final stint of air marshal
training in Atlantic City, New Jersey. A fellow trainee had chided me for not
‘winterizing’ my car. He’d warned me that when the temperature dropped I’d come
out one morning and I’d find my car had become a one-ton paperweight instead of
transportation. On the mainland, people keep anti-freeze in their garage all
year long. But I could think of no good reason to keep anti-freeze under a
kitchen sink in Kaua'i.