Molokai Reef (5 page)

“
I
left the harbor around 1900 – just after sunset.”

“
What
harbor?”

“
I
keep a work boat here on Moloka‘i at Kaunakakai Small Boat
Harbor. It’s the only marina on the island. I went out that
night and came back a few hours later.”

“
Avast
ye swabbie.” Gybe interjected in an attempt to shock Susan
into a detailed answer. “Details, give me the details.”

Susan
glared at Gybe then turned to Kara.

“
Avast
ye swabbie? Kara, you’ve hired fucking Popeye to help me?”

Kara
spent the next ten minutes explaining Gybe’s involvement in the
San Francisco case to Susan.

Susan
still skeptical, sat cross-armed. To Gybe, she seemed frightened
behind the angry façade.

“
I
know you don’t want to hear this Susan, but we – Oceans
Now that is – can’t afford anyone else. If we had the
money I would hire a fleet of investigators, but we don’t.
Back at the office, the staff is working with all of our chapters to
raise money to hire you a good attorney. Until we do that, you’re
going to have to work with the public defender.”

A
tear slid down Kara’s cheek. “Susan, you’re my
best friend. We’ll work something out. I promise.”

Gybe
let the emotion needle swing back towards center before he spoke.
“Susan. I met you ten minutes ago and Kara less than a day
ago. Kara has asked me to help. If you don’t want me here,
say so.”

Gybe
returned Susan’s stare as she scanned his face for her answer.
She looked at Kara who sat with a pleading, somewhat helpless look on
her face. “Gybe, what kind of a name is Gybe?”

Susan
told Gybe that she owned a small marine construction company. Her
company specialized in coastal work anywhere in the Hawaiian Islands.
She repaired piers, built new docks, and occasionally picked up some
salvage work. The company was three years old. Between contracts,
she kept her workboat at Honokohau Harbor on the Kona coast of the
Big Island.

“
Isn’t
that an odd line of work for an environmentalist?”

“
Not
really,” Susan explained. “Our society always places the
environment second to development. The only way for me to minimize
construction damage and ensure compliance with the existing, loophole
ridden laws is for my company to do the work.”

“
I
can spend all my energy fighting the construction of a new pier. And
lose.” She sighed. “Or, I can win the contract and
build the pier in the most environmentally sound manner that I know.”

“
If
I don’t build the pier, then some low-bidding no-neck with a
gill net behind his truck seat will. This is the only sure way to
protect the ocean until society wakes up and realizes the fish,
coral, octopi, whales, and birds are all gone.”

Gybe
thought about Susan’s comments. She might be right. It seemed
that everyone was for or against the environment. Sure, many people
talked about the environment. Hell, they even slapped Sierra Club
bumper stickers on their SUVs, but they did little beyond pay their
club dues. Business wanted to provide a product to the consumer.
Often the product came at a high cost to nature. The consumer with
the bumper sticker wanted to pay the lowest possible price for the
product. Each side said they were for the environment, but their
actions reflected the opposite.

Environmental
organizations differed little from profit-driven businesses. Didn’t
the management of the enviros aspire for the same large buildings,
staff, and influence more often ascribed to the corporate world?
Membership or profit driven, each entity aligned the other as its
polar opposite. Each was loathe to compromise. Each hired expensive
lobbyists. Each converted forests into junk mail. Each must expand
to survive. The resulting stalemate satisfied no one. Susan’s
approach might be a compromise.

Returning
from his wool gathering, Gybe spoke. “OK Susan. The coroner
believes that the murders occurred on Monday night. Where were you
that night?”

“
Like
I said, I left the harbor around 1900 – just after sunset. I
motored around for awhile and returned.”

“
How
long were you gone and where did you go?”

“
I
got back to the harbor around midnight.”

“
Where
did you go?

Susan
told them that she had motored out into the channel between Moloka‘i
and Lāna‘i and drifted.

“
You
just drifted? What were you doing?”

“
I
drifted. I didn’t do anything.”

“
Were
you alone?”

“
I
was alone. I didn’t do it. I am not a murderer.” She
crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

“
Great.”
Gybe turned to Kara. “My job is done. Just tell the DA that
she didn’t do it.”

Gybe
heard the tick of the clock on the wall behind Susan. Though the
clock was electric, the manufacturer had designed it to tick.
Ticking clocks were as anachronistic as dial phones. Did the ticks
increase the tension like drops in water torture or decrease tension
like a Hindu’s mantra? Over a hundred ticks entertained the
three before Gybe changed the subject.

He
glanced up from a spiral notebook. “Did you know Dr. Ray
Wilson and Dr. J. Splicer, the victims?”

“
No,
I didn’t know them.”

She
had hesitated and her body language didn’t support the answer.
“You never met either one of them?” He repeated the
question.

“
No.
I hate what the genetic engineers are doing to the environment. Why
would I want to know them? They are destroying the environment.
They’re killing the reef.”

“
Strong
statement. How are they killing the reef?”

Susan
looked to Kara with a look that asked where she had found this bozo.
“It’s obvious. They remove genes from algae, fish, god
knows what, and stick the genes into a plant that nature has
perfected over thousands of years to produce corn.”

“
Tell
me Gybe, the last time you ate a roasting ear of sweet corn, did you
look at that ear of corn and say gee wouldn’t it be better if
this corn were pink or wouldn’t it be better if it tasked like
shrimp or why can’t we make the corn self-buttering?’”

Gybe
held up both hands as a signal to stop. “Point taken. I don’t
know what they are doing or why, but why do you think their work is
killing the reef?” In fact, over the past two weeks, Gybe had
learned a lot about what the genetic engineers of Moloka‘i were
studying. This was the background research for his article, the
article that he should be writing instead of playing PI.

Susan’s
voice drew him back to the room. “Because. The reef is dying
at the same time these bio-nerds are shaking their test tubes.”
She folded her arms as a signal of proof.

Perhaps
sensing that Gybe wasn’t convinced, Susan, sometimes assisted
by Kara, argued for several more minutes. Gybe could see that
emotions and rhetoric dominated the argument. She didn’t have
facts to connect the state of the reef with the research of the seed
corn companies. It didn’t mean that someone couldn’t
prove a connection. It only meant that Susan had established the
connection in her mind. She believed it. Ergo, her beliefs drove
her actions. Whether science or logic supported the belief was
irrelevant.

After
referring to his notebook, Gybe directed the conversation away from
the reef. “According to Detective Kane, you’ve been
arrested several times during protests here on the island.”

Continuing
her defensive posture, Susan said, “It is my right to protest.
Free and peaceful demonstration is guaranteed by the Constitution.”

“
Agreed.
What did you protest and against whom did you protest?”

9

Susan
confirmed that she had picketed several biotech companies on the
island. Gybe felt that she was evading some of the questions and he
was ready to leave. He stepped outside and told the guard they were
finished.

After
the guard escorted Susan from the room, Gybe and Kara left the police
station, walked to Kolapa Street, and turned right.

Near
the end of this street, they turned left onto Kakalahale, which led
to Susan’s house. Most of the time, Susan lived on the Kona
coast of the Big Island where her business was based. Because she
had won the construction contract for repairs to the commercial pier
at Kaunakakai Harbor, she had relocated temporarily to Moloka‘i.
She held a six-month lease on a small cottage in Kaunakakai town.

As
they walked, Gybe surveyed his knowledge of the town.

There
were no stoplights in the town, none on the island. The main street,
except for the Hawaiian names, could be any small town main street on
the mainland. Two grocery stores, three convenience shops, a couple
of self-serve laundries, one bar, and several restaurants formed the
business core of Kaunakakai. There were no hotels or motels in the
town. That was how Kara ended up at the Hotel Moloka‘i, which
sat on the beach a few miles east on the Kamehameha V Highway.

Over
one third of Moloka‘i’s population called Kaunakakai
home. Everyone knew everyone.

As
they approached the house, Gybe spotted an old
Unsafe at Any Speed
1961 model Corvair convertible sitting in the driveway. No cinder
blocks supported the axles; no vegetation grew through the
floorboards; no rust holes aerated the body.

Susan
or someone had installed four vertical bamboo poles, one in each
corner of the passenger compartment. A frame of chicken wire
connected the tops of the poles. Thatched to this frame, a thick
layer of palm fronds formed a roof. Like the Lanai Bar at the hotel,
the sides and back were open to the elements. A slab of Plexiglas
spanned the forward posts to form a windshield. Native tapa cloth
covered the seats. A meticulous mural adorned the sides.

On
the port side, the side facing them, the mural depicted a healthy,
fish-populated reef along the bottom half of the car. Gybe
identified Moorish idols, unicornfish, butterfly fish, bluestripe
snappers, pufferfish, trumpet fish, and others. On the reef, he saw
sea urchins, a moray eel hidden in a hole, starfish or as they were
more accurately called today - sea stars, and an octopus. Jellyfish
and squids swam just above the reef. A honu – green sea turtle
– hovered over the front fender well, while a spinner dolphin
arched over the aft wheel. The artist was very good; this mural
could have been a diver’s snapshot of a thriving ocean reef.

As he
neared the car, he saw an outline of the world and its continents
painted on the hood. The oceans were named; the landmasses were
blank and featureless. Underneath, he read the words Oceans Now.
Scripted along the equator, he noted the Latin phrase
Raptus
regaliter
. “Is this your logo?”

Kara
nodded.

“
And
Raptus regaliter would mean?”

“
Royally
screwed.”

Susan
had offered Kara the use of the house and the car. Kara wanted to
retrieve her luggage from the Hotel Moloka‘i and check out.

Kara
started towards the side door of the house. “I’ll look
for the key in the house.”

“
Don’t
bother – you drive.” Gybe motioned to the driver’s
door as he walked around to ride shotgun.

A
puzzled expression settled on her face as Kara turned and walked back
to the car. Opening the driver’s side door, Kara slid in.
When she couldn’t find the ignition switch on the steering
column, Gybe pointed to the dashboard above her right knee. In lieu
of a key, a stubby screwdriver protruded from the slot. A twist of
the handle launched a cloud of blue smoke from both tail pipes
accompanied by a rumble similar to a misfiring Harley.

Kara
dropped the floor-mounted speed shifter into reverse and eased out
the clutch. Nothing happened.

“
Maybe
reverse is on the other side.” Gybe suggested.

Kara
worked her way through the gears. She found three forward gears, but
no working reverse. “Now what?”

“
There’s
nothing in front of us, drive around the yard and back to the road.”

She
found her way back past the police station and onto the main road.
With only one paved road leading through the town, the odds of not
getting lost were good. Kara turned left towards the Hotel Moloka‘i.

“
You
know,” Gybe commented, “Ralph Nader would shit an oil
pump if he saw a greenie driving a Corvair!”

10

Behind
the hotel counter, the clock indicated 2:03 p.m., 1403 to Gybe, when
Kara finished checking out.

“
Let’s
get something to eat.” He turned to the clerk. “Is the
Lanai Bar still serving lunch?”

The
clerk nodded.

Unable
to lock her bags in the ’vair, Kara stashed them with the
concierge.

The
bartender motioned to take any table. Gybe chose one midway between
the bar and the beach. Like the ’vair, a thatch roof shielded
them from the early afternoon sun. Kara sat with her back to the bar
and looked out across the beach to the ocean,. With Kara on his
right and the ocean to his left, Gybe faced the deserted swimming
pool. He guessed that most guests were napping between morning beach
time and afternoon mai tai.