Molokai Reef (2 page)

The
third reason for the trip was to meet with Andrea aboard her
Lagoonabago
. When he wasn’t writing or pursuing life as
a single, heterosexually active sailor, Gybe maintained the business
management software and Web site for Andrea’s business.
Between the software and an occasional freelance article, Gybe eked
by without contributing to society in the indentured, structured,
mortgaged manner encouraged by presidents, preachers, and parents.

“
Ahoy
Ferrity
,” blared the coarse god above, drowning out the
background whine of the turbine powered whirlybird.

Gybe,
who had been sitting under the dodger that shaded the main hatch,
slid below and returned the ship’s log to the navigation
station.

A
quick glance around the cabin reassured him that he was prepared. He
stepped into the cockpit and waved to the helicopter that had dropped
lower to hover off his starboard side. The voice from above told him
they were dropping men into the water. Would he take them aboard?

To an
eighth grade student diagramming sentences, it was a request.
Projected through the loudspeaker, it was an order. Gybe hoisted a
thumbs up, moved to the stern, and lowered the swim ladder.

Three
bodies dropped from the chopper, the first of many to climb aboard
Ferrity
, enter the harbor, and foul the air, land, and sea of
that once beautiful morning.

3

A few
minutes after the helicopter, an orange CG RHI arrived. Following
the 9/11 attack, Coast Guard RHIs proliferated faster than mosquitoes
after a rain. The twenty-some-foot, twin outboard powered boats
carried a crew of five with a big-ass machine gun mounted on the bow.
Not a very writerly description thought Gybe as he reminded himself
that writing was supposed to be his occupation, not a sideline.

Since
the establishment of the Department of Homeland Security, it seemed
that every soldier, sailor, airman, and Coastie came equipped with
guns and bullets. Unlike many, Gybe felt no safer with an armed
teenager – a teenager who may have selected the military over
another trip to juvie hall.

After
leading the Coasties to the bow and showing them his catch, they
ordered him to return to the cockpit and wait.

Someone
had notified the Maui County Police and a little later, two
blue-light adorned SUVs kicked up red dust as they loped down the
unmaintained jeep trail from Lono Harbor.

As
the sun marched through the sky, Gybe repeated his story to
successive waves of officialdom, sometimes changing or omitting minor
details for their (OK his) enjoyment. He doubted that in the ensuing
turf war and confusion, anyone would compare notes.

Each
official approached with a similar set of questions. What was his
name? What was he doing here? Where did he come from? What did he
do for a living? Had he seen anyone when he arrived or later?

Gybe.
Anchoring. Lāna‘i. Sushi chef. (As a rule, Gybe told
the truth. As another rule, if an official or a pre-printed form
asked a question that was irrelevant to their scope of responsibility
or need to know, Gybe felt no obligation to fill in the blank
accurately.) Nope.

A
squint at the sun suggested that it was noon, yet the bodies remained
hanging from his Bruce anchor. Designed to hold North Sea oil rigs,
the patented Bruce appeared to work equally well supporting two
chained together, non-obese bodies.

The
CG had rafted their orange boat to his starboard side while the dingy
gray Maui Police boat tied to the port side. Neither police nor
Coasties had complied with his request to remove their black boots.
Scuff marks led from amidships to the bow.

With
all the attention focused on the bow, Gybe went below; made himself a
peanut butter and onion sandwich, pulled a cold amber ale from the
reefer, and returned to the cockpit. With the bottle held aloft, he
saluted the news helicopter.

“
We’re
ready to remove the bodies, Captain.” The Coast Guard
Lieutenant motioned Gybe to the bow.

At
their direction, Gybe stepped on the UP button and watched the bodies
rotate once as they swam lifeless towards
Ferrity
’s bow.

The
Maui police officers maneuvered their boat underneath the corpses.
With the aid of the divers in the water and officers in the boat,
Gybe used the windlass to lower the remains into the police boat.

As
Gybe watched the police boat accelerate out of the harbor, the senior
CG officer spoke. “Captain, we’ll escort you back to
Kaunakakai Harbor. The Maui Police have taken over jurisdiction
since it doesn’t appear that the deaths occurred on a vessel or
in federal waters.”

“
Wasn’t
planning to go there. Tell them I’ll be in Hale o Lono harbor
if they need to talk with me.” Gybe’s words were lost as
the boat’s coxswain fired up the twin outboards.

4

“
Permission
to come aboard Captain.”

Only
one other anchor competed with
Ferrity
’s anchor as it
rested on the bottom of the small harbor.

With
neither sense of humor nor sense of respect, the Coast Guard had
suggested – strongly – that Gybe comply with the Maui
Police request to return to Kaunakakai Harbor.

Taking
his time getting underway yesterday afternoon, Gybe stowed the
fate-altering Bruce anchor, retrieved the CQR anchor, and motored
away from Kolo Wharf. Feigning engine problems, he raised sails and
tacked upwind to Kaunakakai Harbor. The frustrated CG crew tagged
along for thirty minutes before receiving a call to search for a
missing windsurfer off Kihei on Maui. They motored alongside
Ferrity
which was sailing southeast on a port tack at six knots, and reminded
Gybe that he was
required
to
sail to Kaunakakai Harbor. With both throttles hard forward, the CG
crew sped off towards Maui.

By
the time the sun had dropped to within two diameters of the horizon,
Ferrity rode to anchor in Kaunakakai Harbor; her sails stowed; and
her hatches open. Gybe sat in the cockpit, cold amber ale in hand,
and reviewed the day while watching the sun close on the distant sea.

Shoreward
of
Ferrity
, music drifted from Mongoose’s schooner -
Makani
. Windward, or to the east, lay the half-mile long
causeway connecting the town to the only commercial pier on the
island. There was room for an interisland barge to tie alongside the
west side of the pier. The interisland ferry terminal occupied a
corner of the pier near the causeway. From his previous visit, Gybe
knew that there were a dozen or so sailboat slips on the far side.
Shoreward of the pier, on the near side of the causeway, fishing
boats rocked in their slips. A small floating dinghy dock rested
between the fishing boats and a launch ramp for trailered boats.

“
Aboard
Ferrity
, permission to board.” The voice projected over
the idling outboard of the Maui Police boat, now less than five yards
away.

“
Come
aboard.”

Gybe
hung two ten-inch diameter inflatable fenders from the lifelines as a
cushion against the police boat. The officer on the bow handed him a
line and Gybe wrapped it around the midship cleat.

Choosing
cooperation over confrontation this morning, Gybe offered coffee to
the two officers who now sat in the cockpit. From yesterday, he knew
the younger officer.

“
Gybe,
this is Detective Kai Kane of the Maui Police. Murders are very rare
on Moloka‘i, so Detective Kane has come from Maui to lead the
investigation. As you know, the island of Moloka‘i is part of
Maui County.”

Gybe
nodded to the detective.

“
Gybe,
I know you’ve told your story several times. I’ve read
the reports and I have some questions. But, it is important for me
to hear it directly.”

The
mantra was cooperate.
He must cooperate
.

Detective
Kane began the questioning by asking about his name. Gybe told the
officers that Gybe was Gaelic for ‘the place where one breeds
horses.’ The small talk continued for a few minutes.

“
And
your last name?”

Gybe’s
“Don’t have, don’t need one” met arched
eyebrows of Detective Kane.

During
the first half hour of the police interview, Detective Kane listened
intently as Gybe answered his questions. The questions mirrored,
more or less, the ones Gybe had answered yesterday.

“
Gybe,
yesterday you listed your occupation as sushi chef. Care to
elaborate on that?”

Gybe
shrugged.

Detective
Kane retrieved a folder from a daypack that he carried. “According
to our records, Gybe of no last name, you have worked as a computer
programmer and have sold freelance articles to several magazines.”
Detective Kane looked up from the folder. “When did you
become a sushi chef?”

Gybe
explained his theory about answering don’t need to know type
questions. Besides, he could be a sushi chef. When a mahimahi
latched onto the hand-line fishing rig that he trailed behind
Ferrity
, he often carved off a piece of sashimi, dipped it in
shoyu sauce, added a dab of wasabi, and downed it while the remainder
of the fish lay trembling on the cockpit sole.

“
Gybe.
It is a serious offense to give false information to a police
officer. I suggest that you bear that in mind as we continue our
conversation.”

The
interview continued for another hour as Detective Kane created,
revised, and re-checked his notes against Gybe’s responses.

Gybe
learned that both victims worked in the biotechnology field. The
male victim worked for SynCorn, Inc. and the female victim worked for
GeNesRus, Inc. Like a calf in a steer-roping contest, he felt the
rope land around his neck. Less than two weeks ago, he had accepted
an assignment to write an article about the genetic research
activities on Moloka‘i.

“
Any
suspects?”

“
It’s
early, but I have a couple of ideas. The coroner thinks the bodies
had been in the water between one and two days when you found them.
When he runs more tests, I suspect he will narrow it to the night
before you arrived.”

“
I
think that’s all for now, Gybe. We would like you to stay in
the area for the next couple of days.”

“
Are
you ordering me to stay?”

“
It’s
not an order. Here’s my card.”

Gybe
nodded.

Detective
Kane turned to the other officer. “Wait for me in the boat?”

As
the officer moved to the police boat, Detective Kane stood and
motioned for Gybe to follow him to the bow. Lowering his voice, the
detective continued. “Gybe, I know about the business in San
Francisco. I’m sorry. There is no excuse for what happened
between you and that officer. But, you are in Hawai‘i now.”

Gybe
nodded.

“
I
also know how you, shall we say, irritated a couple of officers here
on Moloka‘i last week. I have only their side of the story.
As a fellow police officer in the same department, I tend to support
them. However, there have been other incidents with one of those
officers. I operate on evidence and reason.”

“
What
are you saying Detective Kane? Those officers last week were way out
of line. If I hadn’t stepped in when I did, I hate to think
what they would have done to Mongoose. They shouldn’t be on
the force.”

“
Mongoose
a friend of yours?”

“
He’s
over on that schooner.” Gybe tilted his head towards
Makani
.
“I met him ten days ago. Co-worker or not, your steroid
enhanced, IQ-challenged officer needs to be shutdown.”

“
That
a threat?”

Gybe
shrugged. “No threat, just feedback from a citizen.”

“
OK,
noted. Back to my earlier comment, you saved an innocent man’s
life in San Francisco from an overzealous enforcement coalition. I
respect that. Now, I’m asking you to respect me. Give me a
call if you think of anything else.”

Gybe
watched the police boat motor back towards the launch ramp. A large
pickup, maybe a Ford 250 with crew cab, backed a trailer down the
ramp and prepared to load the police boat.

A
buzzing noise to his left drew Gybe’s attention to the incoming
dinghy. Red and blue light beams reflected from the mouth of
Mongoose sitting at the throttle. Gybe waved him alongside.

Ashore,
the other officer – Gybe had forgotten his name – stood
alongside the ramp and scanned Mongoose’s approach with
binoculars.

5

Still
closed eyes sensed the emerging light of dawn while his subconscious
mind scanned for unusual sounds. Gybe awakened in the vee-berth.
Ferrity rode at anchor in Kaunakakai Harbor. He heard more
splashing. Refracted sunlight streamed into one cracked eyelid as he
peered towards the portlight above the berth.

Like
a newly energized GPS receiver acquiring satellites, he felt the
warmth of the tropics, saw the light that marked the end of one day
of life and the beginning of another, heard splashing about the boat,
but he couldn’t smell the coffee. Must have coffee.