Primitive Secrets (29 page)

Authors: Deborah Turrell Atkinson

Tags: #Detective, #Mystery, #Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, #Crime & mystery, #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction - Mystery, #Women lawyers, #Fiction, #Mystery fiction, #Women Sleuths, #Honolulu (Hawaii), #Suspense, #Crime & Thriller, #General

BOOK: Primitive Secrets

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Chapter 41

Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone came into Storm's room and vowed not to leave her side until she was discharged. Well, except for an occasional trip to the cafeteria, one at a time. The hospital even rounded up two cots for the night. All three clung to each other's presence.

The lines in her aunt's and uncle's faces looked deeper than she remembered. Their bones looked more prominent and Uncle Keone's jeans bagged more on his flat bottom. She noticed for the first time that the once-deep brown irises of their eyes were ringed with blue. The three of them shared the evening paper; Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone passed a pair of reading glasses back and forth. And she could see the knowledge of human fragility reflected in their eyes.

She knew they partly blamed themselves for her close call. They felt they should have warned her more strongly, or been with her after Hamasaki's death. Uncle Keone apologized for not spending the night when they came to O'ahu for a saddle.

“What could you have done?” Storm asked them, and she meant it. But they were deflated, worried about their own judgment and weaknesses. They were afraid they'd contributed to her pain.

Storm felt a gap widen with their reticence, like the one she'd felt with her father. It was up to her to reach out now. She began by explaining what she and Fujita thought had happened, that Wo had been covering up a large-scale embezzlement of Unimed. She told them how she and Fujita figured either Wang was involved or being blackmailed by Meredith. The Chinese immigrants had done Wo's bidding, afraid of losing their sponsorship and being sent back. One of them had tried to run Storm off the road and one followed her on the slopes of the mountain. Both were dead. It was up to Fujita to find who had actually carried out the violence against Lorraine.

Storm picked at the bed covers. “Aunt Maile, I still don't understand how Tong Choy broke his neck on the mountain. There were no footprints, no signs of struggle. And what was that strange animal we saw?”

Aunt Maile glanced at Uncle Keone. “The old legends say that the âaamakaa protects. The spirits of dead ancestors call on whatever god is needed to defend the family,” Maile said. She shrugged. “Some of the kahana would say that the creature was Kamapua'a, half-man, half-pig.”

“I remember the songs and dances that tell his story, but do you really believe those old legends? I'm not convinced Wo didn't hire someone to clean up after the Tong brothers,” Storm said. “And to remove Ed Wang before he betrayed her.”

Her aunt and uncle looked alike in that moment, gray hair and wizened brown skin, and they reached for each other's hands. “I don't think we'll ever know for sure.”

Aunt Maile looked at Storm with steady dark eyes. “But I'm sure she didn't conjure up a wild boar,” she said. “Did she even know about your âaamakaa? That it is paâa, the pig?”

Storm shook her head. “No.”

Uncle Keone leaned forward on his chair, his elbows on his knees, and rested his warm, dry hand on Storm's. “Some of the old teachings are metaphors for life and nature. Like what the Bible says, âwhatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap?' Can you explain why that happens? Yet it does, doesn't it?”

His eyes twinkled. “The old Hawaiians believed in the forces of nature, that they took human form.” Uncle Keone sat back next to Aunt Maile with a smile and nodded at Storm. She no longer felt distance between them. Instead, they felt part of a bigger whole. And it was comforting.

She was still terrified of falling asleep, being out of her own control, but her doctor visited her during a physical therapy session and told her that these fears were normal and should fade. Her body demanded sleep for healing, though, and she took frequent naps that became less and less fraught with anxiety. Except for two empty bags of Mrs. Field's cookies, a half-eaten jar of kim chee that left a strong garlic aroma throughout the room, and a rubbish can full of banana and papaya peels, she might have believed that Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone never left her side.

After one long nap, she woke to find Aunt Bitsy and Michelle waiting with flowers. Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone slipped away for a visit to the cafeteria. Bitsy looked fragile and tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you for getting to the bottom of this mess, dear.”

“How's Martin?” Storm asked.

“He'll come see you later this afternoon,” Michelle answered.

Storm took a deep breath. They had all broken promises and made painful mistakes. Keeping secrets and harboring resentments had been as damaging as a direct assault, but it was time to try to learn and move on. “He saved my life, you know. I want to give him a big hug.”

“He'd like that,” Michelle said. “David couldn't leave the lunch crowd at the restaurant, but he knows you're going home tomorrow. He'll bring dinner over for you.”

“That would be great. I'd like to see him.”

When Michelle and Bitsy had hugged Storm and left, Storm settled back on her pillows. She must have dozed off again, because when she opened her eyes, Uncle Keone was sitting nearby, well into the newspaper. Aunt Maile and a smiling nurse stood by the bed. The nurse was chewing what appeared to be a chunk of pipikaala, the spicy Hawaiian beef jerky.

Fujita came in as the nurse departed, licking her lips. Storm was glad to see he wasn't eating pipikaala or kim chee, too. She was getting the feeling that it was about time to go home, lie around on the couch with Fang.

He sat down and propped his forearms on his knees. “You feeling okay?”

“Better. I'm sleeping a lot.”

“That's normal. It's the effect of the stress on your body and the drug.” He jiggled one leg. “We picked up Meredith Wo at the airport. She was booked on a flight to Hong Kong. She won't talk to us and she called an attorney, from outside the firm, by the way. But we've got Hamasaki's Unimed notes and access to bank accounts belonging to her and Wang. They both made deposits that hint at huge commissions on those Chinese-manufactured machines. The equipment cost a fraction of the amount the Unimed purchasing director had been told. Wo alone pocketed two and a half million from each of the two deals Hamasaki discovered.”

Both of Fujita's legs were jiggling, now, and he could scarcely keep the glee out of his voice. “I have a hunch it's just the tip of the iceberg, too. We're getting subpoenas for all of Overton's files.”

“What about Lorraine? Why did they kill her?” Storm asked. She couldn't share Fujita's merriment at the big bust. It was just too hard to overlook the arrogant and wanton disposal of human life perpetrated by greed.

“She knew whatever Hamasaki knew,” Fujita said. “According to Wang's secretary, a few days after Hamasaki died, Lorraine confronted Meredith. Seems like Lorraine didn't believe it was an accidental death, either.” He peered over his glasses at her. “And Wo saw her give you a list before you left for the Big Island, didn't she?”

Storm nodded sadly. “Poor Lorraine. If she suspected someone had killed Hamasaki, why didn't she think they'd kill her, too?”

“She did. She prepared two copies of Hamasaki's papers.” Fujita sat back in his chair and his feet came to a flat standstill. His voice lost its levity. “She gave two envelopes to her husband. If anything happened to her, he was to mail one to you and a copy to us.

“But Wang visited him. Mr. Tanabe's bank account grew by two hundred thousand dollars three hours after Lorraine got hit. She wasn't even dead, yet.” Fujita slumped in his chair. “Poor Mr. Tanabe broke down when we visited him last night. Wo threatened the Tanabes' married daughter and her two kids on Kaua'i. So he gave both sets of files to Wang, who believed he had the originals.”

“Did Wang or Wo kill Hamasaki? Did Wo take an earlier plane from Hong Kong?” Storm asked.

“Meredith was on a JAL flight that left Hong Kong at

2:50 p.m. on Sunday. But because of the International Date Line, she actually got into Honolulu at 9:20 a.m. the same day. We found a couple empty syringes in a locked desk drawer in her office. Apparently, she got the drug from Wang. His private nurse said that they keep succinylcholine around in case his invalid mother needs to be intubated.”

Storm wondered if her dizziness was due to distress or the remnants of the succinylcholine in her system. “How could Hamasaki sit still for an injection?”

Fujita sighed. “Hamlin said Hamasaki left the office for a minute after Lorraine brought him the tea. Plenty of time for Wo to drop the sedative into his cup.”

“But why was coffee in the cup? She knew he drank tea.”

“We can't check this now, but it's likely that Wo used potassium instead of succinylcholine to speed up Hamasaki's death. When you called us, we found his hand gripping the mug as if he'd had a seizure or heart attack. We think that when Wo couldn't get the mug out of his clenched hand, she used coffee from the kitchenette to rinse the cup.”

“Do you think Wang knew that Wo killed Hamasaki and Lorraine?” Fujita's eyes glittered behind his glasses. “Some of the office personnel said he was very upset this last week.” “Have you talked to Sherwood Overton yet?”

Fujita pressed his lips into a thin line. “He's gone. His secretary claims that he left the office right before lunch yesterday. He had a board meeting downtown, but he never showed up.”

Silence passed between them. Storm swallowed hard and picked at a hangnail on her thumb. “How do you do this day in and day out?”

He regarded the floor for a few seconds, then looked up. “I have to believe that I'm keeping others from getting hurt. But some daysâ¦” He stood up slowly, as if his knees ached. “I'm going to take my nephew reef fishing this afternoon. Don't care if I catch anything, either.”

Fujita slipped away. Storm was still gazing into her lap. “Aunt Maile, Uncle Keone, would you mind if I went to Hamlin's room for a few minutes?”

Hamlin was writing on a legal pad and looked up in surprise. His first reaction was a crooked smile. Then he put his hand up to cover the side of his face that drooped.

“You look better, you know,” Storm said. “It's going to disappear.”

“The experts can't tell yet.” Hamlin looked down at his paper and kept his eyes there. “I'm stronger, though.”

“See, it's not even been two days.”

“Yeah.”

“Has Fujita caught you up on what happened?”

“I haven't seen him since yesterday,” Hamlin mumbled.

“He's probably on his way, but I'll fill you in.” Storm told him about the scam with Unimed. She tried to keep the anguish out of her voice as she related how Lorraine had tried to protect her family by copying the files. Hamlin looked very pale. They both knew how close they had come to being Meredith Wo's victims, too.

He listened carefully, but kept his eyes down and his face in shadow. The lamp over his bed was carefully aimed to shine on his lap.

“How is DeLario?”

Hamlin picked at his moustache. “He came to see me.”

“You could have told me about his drug problem. And that he'd euthanized Neil.”

“I would have, eventually, but I was trying to work through it. My feelings swung between guilt and anger. It brought back all the sadness I felt back then, too.”

Storm nodded; this was something she understood. She limped closer to Hamlin's bedside and took his hand. “Were you trying to protect Meredith?”

He looked up from the papers in his lap and met her eyes. “No, never. I always knew she was selfish. I just never had any idea how desperate she was.”

Storm smiled at him. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. When the nurse came through the door, they both started and Storm let go of his hand. The nurse looked kindly at Storm. “Time for his physical therapy. We'll have this guy back on track, soon.”

“Yeah, I know.” Storm shuffled toward the door, then looked back. “They're going to let me go home tomorrow. How âbout if I bring pizza for dinner?”

Hamlin didn't answer and kept his eyes down.

Storm went back to his bedside. “Hey, it's your long legs I hang around for, not your face.” She punched him lightly on the arm.

Hamlin let his gaze slide to meet hers. There was a hopeful light in his eyes.

“Six-thirty. Black olives and Maui onions. Extra cheese,” Storm said.

He almost smiled.