Banana Split (12 page)

Interrupting someone while they were eating was never a good idea, and yet Sadie didn’t feel she had much of a choice. Mr. Olie’s unwelcoming energy certainly didn’t help her nerves as she approached the table. What if he berated her? What if he wasn’t someone she should trust after all? Then she remembered her call to Officer Wington. He’d responded because she’d claimed to be looking for closure—which wasn’t necessarily an untruth—and she wondered if perhaps Mr. Olie would be more open to helping her if she used the same approach.

She stood by his table, waiting for him to look up at her. He didn’t. Instead he took a few bites of what looked like mashed sweet potatoes.

“Are you Mr. Olie?” she asked after a few more seconds, and bites.

He didn’t answer her, just glanced up with an expression that told her he did not appreciate the interruption.

She wished she had another option. She didn’t sit, but took a breath and laid out her purpose for being here—to get closure on the death of Noelani Pouhu.

Not one part of her explanation caused any kind of reaction from the man eating at the table. He pushed away the plate of sweet potatoes and pulled another plate in front of him, picking up a corn tortilla out of a covered dish and using the other ingredients on the plate—fish, lettuce, tomatoes, and mangoes—to make a taco. After adding the toppings, he squeezed a quarter of a lime over the finished taco. Sadie hadn’t ever eaten fish tacos—they sounded strange compared to the ground beef with taco seasoning she was familiar with—but it looked delicious, and she felt the stirrings of the old Sadie’s habit of recreating recipes roll over in its sleep.

He’d finished his first taco when she finished the condensed version of who she was and why she was bothering him. After she stopped talking, he looked up without lifting his head as though checking to make sure she was done.

“I just want to know more about Noelani,” Sadie said, shifting under the discomfort of the information she’d left out—Charlie. She didn’t feel ready yet to mention him, not until she better understood this man. She hadn’t expected him to be so stoic and uninterested. Weren’t social workers supposed to be . . . well, social?

“I didn’t know her that well,” Mr. Olie said as he began wrapping another taco. “I don’t think I’m the person that’s going to make you feel better about this.”

Fish Tacos

Cilantro Sauce

1/4 cup mayonnaise

2 tablespoons cilantro, chopped

1 tablespoon lime juice

1 clove garlic, minced or pressed

1 teaspoon water

1 teaspoon white sugar

1/8 teaspoon cumin

Fish

11/2 pounds white fish cut into 1-inch cubes (halibut, cod, roughy, snapper, perch, swai)

2 tablespoons chopped cilantro

1/2 cup pineapple juice

1 tablespoon butter

1 clove of garlic, minced or pressed

1/4 teaspoon white or black pepper

1/4 teaspoon cumin

1/4 teaspoon salt

Zest of one lime

Flour or corn tortillas, warmed

Toppings

Shredded lettuce or cabbage

Diced tomatoes

2 mangoes, cut into slices (mangoes make all the difference)

Avocados or guacamole (optional)

Freshly squeezed lime juice (optional)

In a small bowl, mix all the ingredients for the cilantro sauce. Set aside.

Cut up fish and put into a small glass or plastic (anything non-metal) bowl. Add cilantro and pineapple juice. Set aside. (For a tangier version, soak fish in 2 tablespoons lime juice instead of pineapple juice.)

In a frying pan, melt butter on medium-high heat. Add garlic and sauté for 1 minute. Add spices and sauté for 30 seconds. Drain the pineapple juice (or lime juice) from the fish. Add drained fish to butter and spices. Sauté for 2 minutes, stirring constantly. Add lime zest. Cook an additional 3 to 4 minutes, stirring constantly until fish begins to flake apart. Remove from heat.

To prepare tacos, place a large spoonful of cooked fish in the center of a warm tortilla. Add toppings as desired. Top with cilantro sauce. Add lime juice, if desired. Roll up and eat.

Makes approximately 8 tacos.

Chapter 12

I don’t expect anything will make me feel better,” Sadie said. “I just want . . . understanding.”

He harrumphed and then waved at the chair across the table. Sadie felt a flutter of victory. He was inviting her to sit. That was a good sign! Maybe IZ’s aloha spirit was rubbing off on this man too.

Once she sat down, Mr. Olie stared at her, and she was surprised by his anger. Not the aloha she was hoping for. Was he angry about what had happened to Noelani, or was he angry with Sadie for interrupting him?

“Understanding is a worthless pursuit. Understanding Noelani Pouhu is even more so.”

Definitely angry at or about Noelani.

“I just have a few questions,” Sadie said, feeling a rush of courage as she reviewed what she knew about Noelani’s situation and put her questions in order of priority. She had a feeling Mr. Olie wasn’t going to tolerate a long discussion.

He let out a breath, giving in, and nodded quickly, as if saying “Let’s get this over with.” He went back to his meal.

“I understand Noelani lost custody of her son on O’ahu two years ago, then transferred here for rehab after her release. Her son was transferred to a foster home here too, right? To Kaua’i?”

He nodded, but only once.

“It seems as though the state was working hard for them to reunite. I imagine it can’t be easy to change jurisdictions.”

“It isn’t,” he said. “But there were special circumstances.”

“Can I ask what those special circumstances were?” Sadie felt a tremor of excitement at the prospect of figuring something out.

“No, you can’t,” he said, sounding offended. Her excitement died instantly.

“Okay,” Sadie said, trying to rebuild the confidence this man was shattering one word at a time. “Can you tell me if she and her son were close to being reunited?”

She held her breath, sure he was about to have her thrown out of the restaurant. Instead, he took another bite of his taco, chewed, swallowed, and then spoke.

“Last month the judge gave her ninety days to get an apartment. If she had her own place by that time, her son could be returned to her for a probationary period of time,” Mr. Olie said, rerolling his taco, but not lifting it for another bite. “All she had to do was find a place to live and pass her weekly drug screens. I thought she was on her way, but I was wrong. What else do you want to know?”

“Um,” Sadie said. She hadn’t thought of another question, and his intense stare made it hard for her to think clearly. “What was she like?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and Sadie had the distinct impression he was disappointed in her question. It confused her. “What was she like?” he repeated.

Sadie nodded. “What was she like with her son? Did they have a good relationship?”

“They seemed to.”

“Oh, um, good,” Sadie said. “Do you think she was still using drugs?”

“She’d passed all her screenings since coming to Kaua’i,” Mr. Olie said. “She got a full-time job at the motel a few months ago and was getting closer to reunification every day. But she wound up dead in the ocean so something went wrong.”

He seemed to have the same opinion Officer Wington did—that Noelani’s death was drug-related despite no conclusive evidence. Before Sadie could figure out another question, Mr. Olie continued.

“I had a heart attack five years ago and took early retirement,” he said, taking the conversation in a totally different direction. “I returned to work three years ago, part-time, and decided to make every case count. I fought harder than anyone else would for my clients. Reuniting families was my specialty and the best part of my job. I had the seniority to handpick my cases, and in time, people brought me cases they thought I would really sink my teeth into. I’ve had an impressive record. Noelani’s situation was unique, and the department worked hard to help her make a go with this. They even let her leave O’ahu and transferred her son to Kaua’i in the name of reunification—
ohana
—family. I was the perfect guy for the job.

“As of six months ago, I had three of these types of cases I was working, and they were all looking good. The first family consisted of a single mother—a widow who’d turned to prescription pain medication after her husband died—and her three kids. Grandmother had taken over guardianship of the kids so Mom could go to rehab without her kids going into foster care. She completed treatment and was working on getting a job while living with her mother and the kids as they reestablished their relationships.

“We were days away from Mom taking back guardianship of her children when she came into my office, high as a kite, wanting to sign away her parental rights. I did everything I could to convince her that it wasn’t the right decision—I even made her wait two days before I’d let her sign—but she came back—sober—and signed her kids away. Then she hopped a plane for the Big Island to meet up with some tweeker she’d met online. Grandma was diagnosed with colon cancer two weeks later.

“So, I’ve got three kids—ages ten, twelve, and fourteen. Their father is dead, they were abandoned by their mother, and they are about to lose their grandmother, and I don’t have anywhere to send them. They’re native, which means they require a special foster home, and I don’t have any homes that have room for three siblings. Last night, the fourteen-year-old was arrested for public intoxication, and I can’t help but wonder who’s going to raise
her
children one day.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sadie said, reflecting on how much hurt he witnessed through his work. She could hear both anger and exhaustion in his voice.

“The other family was a mom, a dad, and two preteen daughters; haoles who’d come from California so Dad could surf now that he was off parole for aggravated assault. He decided to grow his own weed instead of getting a real job, got caught, went to jail, the house fell apart, Mom was arrested for check fraud, yada yada yada. But they were devastated when the kids were put into temporary placement, and they worked hard to get their lives back on track, which happened in January.

“This last Valentine’s Day, Dad got drunk and beat Mom unconscious. The two girls are now in two different temporary homes because I don’t have a home that will take sisters in their age bracket. We’re all waiting to see if Mom, who’s been in a rehab facility due to the significant injuries she sustained from the beating—including neurological damage—will ever be able to care for them again.” He looked past Sadie for a moment before bringing his gaze back to her.

“My third case was Noelani Pouhu and her son, and it was feeling like a slam dunk, especially compared to those other two. Noelani took every class we offered, she toed the line to perfection, passed every drug screen, involved herself in a church and her community; she really seemed to step up.” He took a breath before going back to his meal. He took a bite, and then a long drink of his Coke.

“I can’t imagine what that’s like to see those things up close,” Sadie said when he didn’t comment further. What else could she say? “I’m sorry.”

He grunted and kept eating.

Sadie waited a full minute, expecting him to break the awkward silence. He didn’t. She finally felt she had no choice but to do it herself. “When did you last see Charlie?”