Mana (5 page)

“The name doesn't ring a bell. I suppose I must have seen him around if he's been working there that long.”

“Sure as hell he saw you around.” Sam reached into the bag and pulled out a three-inch piece of plastic molded around metal arms. “Your story is an explanation for this. It's the rotor out of your car. It's not too hard to piece things together. He saw you come to work late, figured this was his chance, popped the hood, took off the distributor cap and yanked the rotor. Then he snapped the cap back on. It's an old stunt. Easiest way to disable a car without leaving a lot of wires hanging around loose. Once he had everything else back in place he hid in the bushes, waiting for you to come out, assuming if you couldn't start that old Ford of yours you'd walk home by the straightest path, right past those bushes.”

Lehua shuddered. “That means he may have been watching me for months, just waiting and planning.”

“That's likely, but there's one thing for sure.”

“What's that?”

“His watching and waiting and planning days are over for good.”

* * *

“As long as I'm here, there's something else I should tell you about.” Lehua shifted uneasily in her seat, knowing what Sam's response would be. After a moment, she continued. “I got a call this morning. A warning call. Someone—it was a male voice—said if I didn't stop writing about the Angel Tong I'd have acid thrown in my face.” Lehua watched Sam, waiting for the explosion which was only a moment in coming.

“Dammit! How many times have I told you you're playing with fire? I don't have enough men to give you twenty-four-hour-a-day protection, but I'll see to it the patrol checks through your neighborhood regularly. Can't you switch to the society pages or something?”

Lehua did not bother to show her anger. She knew Sam would do what he could, and he certainly would not change his view about what she was doing or what she should be doing.

“Maybe we should arrange some kind of a signal,” he said. “Got anything you can put in the window if you need help? A picture or something?”

Lehua thought a moment. “Yes. I've got a big photo of a cat against a red background. That should show up. I'll be careful. I'll lock my doors and all that.”

“Put the picture upside down in the window if you need help.” Sam paused. “Put it on its side if you just want us to watch the place and tail someone who comes out. The main thing is for you to stay off the streets at night. Your next attacker may not have the bad luck of stumbling and breaking an arm. Better yet, why don't you move in with us until all this blows over? Jennie figures you're one of the family anyway. Laverne can sleep on the couch, and you can have her bedroom.”

“No way. It's one thing for me to stick out my neck, but I'm not about to endanger you and the rest of the family. I'll settle for the police protection, and I will be careful.”

“We'll put a tap on your phone, tape any messages, and put someone to monitoring it. If there's another threat, they can call in for a trace. Not that the phone company is ever much good at tracing a call, but maybe we'll luck out. If you get another call, keep them talking. At least we should be able to get a voice print.”

Chapter 5

Walking back to the apartment house in the bright sunshine was a pleasant antidote to the confused thoughts which had been running through her mind. The sky was such a clear blue it was hard to look at, and the white puffs of clouds drifting down from the slopes out to the ocean sent shadows racing across the landscape. There was only enough wind to stir up the mild perfume from the plumeria planted along the street.

Lehua stopped at a newspaper box, dropped in a couple of coins and removed the day's edition. Her article began at the bottom of page one and picked up again on page six. So far as she could see, Cy hadn't blue-penciled a thing. Steering carefully around the few pedestrians—mainly tourists going by in pairs—she walked up the three steps to her small apartment house and used her key to let herself into the long hallway leading to the stairs up to her rooms.

At the foot of the stairs she stepped back to allow someone coming down to pass by. He didn't. Instead, reaching a rubber-gloved hand into his pocket, he pulled out a wide-mouth jar, snapped off the lid and threw the contents at her face. The liquid arched out, curved around in mid-air, and ribboned back at the attacker. In a moment his screams of terror and pain changed to a hoarse gurgling sound. Clutching at his face in agony, he doubled up and rolled down the last few steps, only to be thrown violently aside. Crashing against the wall, he then fell a few feet away from Lehua. A door opened at the top of the stairs, another from the landlady's ground-floor rooms. Mystified faces watched the writhing form, hands tearing at the liquid already turning the skin a fiery red.

The hoarse screaming continued, but the voice was no longer human. For a fleeting moment, Lehua remembered the one and only pig hunt she had gone on with her brother. A wounded and dying boar had made the same rasping noises.

No one moved toward the squirming figure at the foot of the stairs. The landlady ran back to her room to call the police.

It occurred to Lehua water might help to dilute the acid, and she ran after the landlady to fill a container at her kitchen sink. By the time she returned, several people were standing around the man, who was now retching and coughing. The water seemed to do little. More people came in from the street. Finally, a patrolman arrived.

Later, at the station, Captain Silva shook his head in amazement as he surveyed the petite figure of the intended victim. “To say the least, you've been damn lucky. If he hadn't tripped on the stairs, you'd have had a pint of hydrochloric acid running down your face.”

“How is he? Who is he?” Lehua marveled at the tone of her own voice. How can I possibly sound so calm? She wondered.

“The answer to the second question is we don't know. He wasn't carrying any ID. We've taken his prints, but it will be a while before we get a report back on them. The answer to the first question is ‘bad.' He'll never see again. His face is a mess, and he must have opened his mouth to scream when it happened, because the inside of his mouth and tongue are so badly burnt he can't talk and never will. Some even got to his lungs.”

“Can he communicate at all?”

“Yeah. He's been writing notes, and guess what? He started off by saying you threw the acid at him. Unfortunately for his story, we've already located where he got it, at that ornamental fence shop in the industrial district where they make stuff to order. They reported a break-in last night, and the acid was the only thing missing.”

A faint smile flickered across Sam Silva's broad features. “I can't quite picture you smashing through a skylight at eleven-thirty and dropping fifteen feet to the floor to steal some acid, especially since that was right around the time you were having a run-in with another attacker of a different sort. The fact he was wearing rubber gloves doesn't exactly fit well with his version of what happened, either.”

“What's he saying now?”

“He's hacking and coughing a lot, so the doctor kicked us out before we could find out much more. I have a man standing by to question him again as soon as he can get an OK from the doc. In any case, he's not saying who hired him to do the acid bit. Did you recognize him?”

Lehua shook her head. “I saw he was Asian, that he had something in his hand he was about to throw at me, and then the next thing I knew he was writhing and screaming on the floor.”

“Anyway, that settles it. Whoever's behind it isn't fooling. I'll see to it you have someone with you twenty four hours a day.”

“That really isn't necessary, Sam.”

“Not necessary?! You've just used up about fifteen of your lives. Your luck's due to run out. So there are no ifs, ands or buts. I'll relieve Sergeant De Rego from any other duties, and she can stay with you until we find out who's behind this.”

“I can think of worse company than Millie, but she'll be bored silly. All I'll be doing is writing my next article on the Tong.”

“Being bored comes with the territory. Detectives spend most of their waking hours being bored, and Millie has had fifteen years on the force to get used to it. She's also used to sleeping on the floor if you don't have a couch to accommodate her.”

“All right. I guess there's no point in arguing. Besides, I do have a couch that opens up into a bed. So she won't have to sleep on the floor. But I still say it isn't necessary for her to stay with me.”

“Why are you so damn sure? You think the guy who called you is going to give up? Or are you going to give up writing those articles?”

For a moment, Lehua toyed with the idea of telling Sam why her anxiety level was so low, and then she thought better of it. “Neither,” she answered.

“Then Millie moves in, period.”

* * *

Lehua had known Millie for years. One of the first patrolwomen hired in the Kona District, Millie established an enviable record during her probationary period as an officer, having disarmed a berserk husband who knew only one thing, that his wife needed killing. That, and rescuing a baby from a burning building had been just the beginning of a career that put a quietus on any possible attempts to discriminate against women on the Kona police force.

In addition, Millie had won the police's sharp shooting contest for the last seven years in a row. She also had the appearance to go along with her reputation. Five-ten, with a solid body and a no-nonsense face, she had long ago learned how to cow the meanest of drunks by just looking him square in the eye…and yet children loved her. So she had become the favorite speaker at the Law Day programs held by the local schools.

Millie looked over at her companion as she drove her back to her apartment in an unmarked car. “I'll stay out from under foot. All I need are a few video tapes from the supermarket. Got earphones for your TV? If not, I'll drop by my house and pick up mine.”

“No need. I'm all equipped. Bill likes to watch those endless science shows which leave me cold, so I bought him a headset for his birthday.”

“Great. Let's go by the market and we'll pick up supper fixings and charge it to the department. That way they won't have to pay for my eating out while on guard. I'm going to enjoy this kind of duty.”

Millie insisted on cooking dinner while Lehua worked on the outline of the next article in her Tong series. No great cook herself, Lehua nonetheless appreciated good food, and admired those with the ability to prepare it. It was difficult for her to tear herself away from watching the efficient sergeant taking over the kitchen with the air and skill of a professional.

“What's on the menu?” Lehua asked, after she had drawn the curtains at Millie's advice and returned to the kitchen.

“Watercress salad, to begin with. Where do you hide your sesame seeds?”

“I don't have any.”

Millie shook her head in disbelief. “We can make do, but I sure don't see how you make a really decent salad without having sesame seeds handy.”

Lehua grinned at Millie's reaction. “You'd be surprised at how many other food items I don't have. What else is on the menu?”

“Some shrimp fritters, along with eggplant parmesan.”

“High class international cooking. Great!”

“Tomorrow night we go peasant and local, though. I'm getting the makings together for Portuguese bean soup, and I'll mix up the ingredients for bread tonight so I can get it started on its first rise when we get up in the morning.”

“You plan that far ahead?” Lehua shook her head in disbelief. “I usually don't think about a meal until I'm hungry, and even then I don't do anything about it until I open the refrigerator.”

“You look like it, too,” Millie commented as she surveyed Lehua's small figure. “You could stand to add a few pounds to those bones. Can't you get that boyfriend of yours to do some cooking? Chinese are born cooks. Just give him a little nudge.”

Lehua laughed at the suggestion. “Maybe I could get him to fry some eggs over hot lava, but otherwise he's about as useless in the kitchen as I am. He says he can warm up a mean TV dinner in the microwave, and that's about it.”

Millie grunted. “It's time one of you learned how to feed yourselves.”

Lehua's eyes crinkled in amusement. “As far as I'm concerned, I'd rather settle for permanent police protection. All the fuss with no muss.”

The meal measured up to Lehua's expectations, and Millie glowed under the compliments, though herself disparaging the results of her efforts.

Following a fruit dessert comprised of lychee, papaya and mandarin oranges, Lehua sighed and sat back in her chair. “I haven't eaten that well or that much since my college days over on Oahu, when I used to treat myself to one extravagant meal a month at a good restaurant.”

Millie started to reply when the phone rang. Their eyes met. “Do you have an extra phone around?” Millie asked.

Lehua reached behind a pot rack on the kitchen counter and pulled out a portable phone. “Here. I'll take the call in the other room.”

The voice, surprisingly clear, was a familiar one. As Bill identified himself, Lehua heard the click of the portable being switched off, followed by the clatter of dishes in the kitchen sink.

“Where are you? You sound like you're in the next room.”

“In Lagos, and you're coming through loud and clear yourself. What time is it there? I'm completely screwed up on days, never mind hours.”

“Eight o'clock…in the evening.”

“It's six a.m. here. We're about ready to go to the airport, but the taxi hasn't arrived yet. So I thought I'd give you a ring. I doubt there'll be any phones out in the bush and there are dead areas for cell phones all through there. How's everything going?”

“Fine. How's everything with you?”

“Great, except for this damp heat. It's probably in the low eighties outside, but it feels like a hundred and something. We got to see recent photos of those lakes. It's amazing the way everything has grown back. The biologist in our group says the hydrogen sulfide just killed the above-ground vegetation. Anyhow, the people are already settled around the lakes, right back in the same old villages.”

“Don't they know any better?”

“Sure, except that that's prime farmland, and they have no place else to go. It's either starve or take their chances with the voodoo of the lake. The local geologist says they live in terror there. I guess I would too, even though I have some idea of what's going on.”

“A scientific explanation can sure be comforting.”

“Hey! What am I hearing? Lehua Watanabe saying there's some point to science? What's behind this sudden conversion? Why, I can remember you quoting to me from some poem about how the ‘learn-‚d astronomer' spoils appreciation of the stars by trying to understand them. What's happened?”

“Nothing. I guess I just miss having my scientific friend around to reassure me the universe is orderly after all—and for other reasons, of course.”

“That's better. For a minute there, I thought I was going to come home to someone who'd forgotten about all those ‘other reasons.' Whoops! There's a cabby waving frantically at me. Gotta go.”

“Love you. Take care of yourself.”

“Love you too. Much! You take care of yourself too.”