The Flaming Luau of Death (10 page)

I
’ll say this for the plan. It was as brilliant as it was wacky. Kelly Imo had apparently figured out a way to save Hawaii from its almost total dependence on tourist dollars—in other words, rescue the state from economic crisis—by introducing a new agricultural business to the islands. In place of the dismal commercial disaster that befell sugar, he proposed developing plantations of
bamboo,
which he intended to be harvested and processed for use as building material. A similar plan was showing promise in the Philippines and in Vietnam. Bamboo, apparently, was amazing stuff. His research showed that bamboo had a tensile strength greater than steel. Steel! Who knew?

Of course, our part of the globe has not yet taken much to using bamboo in construction, so Kelly’s scheme required some deep-pockets investors who would build processing plants and mount a stunning PR campaign to somehow convince the Western world to get with the bamboo. New businesses would be developed to turn the raw bamboo into construction and building materials, such as bamboo poles, bamboo thatch, bamboo molding, bamboo fencing, bamboo weave, bamboo mats, bamboo board, bamboo flooring, and probably six or seven other utilizations that flew right over my head.

“But you have a problem from the start,” the wiry man seated next to Earl interrupted. “Which variety are you proposing to grow?”

“Stop getting bogged down in the details, Pete. We’ll grow the best kind,” said Brian, flushed, waving off the question, not wishing to be pinned down. He had bigger ideas to share.

“Does ‘the best’ mean the
strongest?”
the wiry man challenged, just as hot about his bamboo. “The
straightest?
The most
durable?”

“Pete—”

“I’m not finished! The most
flexible?
The most
bug resistant?
Does it mean the most canes or tonnage per acre? Do you want to use the bamboo ‘as is’ in the round? Or do you want to mill it for composites or laminates? Or do you want it primarily for furniture?”

“Pete!” Brian raised his voice, trying to stop him.

“See,” the wiry man continued, his voice strong, “you have not done your homework, Brian. And neither had Kelly, God rest his soul. So don’t go taking this group off the edge of the cliff. We could get ourselves into real deep doo-doo if we follow this madness without thinking it through. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Yes,” Claudia said in her calm, cool voice, taking rapid notes. “Out of order, every word, but that’s all you’re saying.”

What rabbit hole had I fallen down? These men and a woman were getting hot and bothered over a cockeyed plan to introduce bamboo plantations to the economy of Hawaii. Somehow, pros and cons be damned, it didn’t sound like the makings of a motive for murder. After all, no matter how heated the discussion, I couldn’t see any of these bambooists killing over it. I mean, really. Except…I surveyed the table. Maybe Earl.

I pulled three fives out of my purse and put them on the table. I had learned a lot about bamboo, without a doubt, but I’d learned practically nothing of any real value about Kelly Imo or why he had been in Holly’s room. I knew even less about why he might have died so suddenly.

The closer I got to knowing what made Kelly tick—his sweet girlfriend, his green thumb—the less he seemed a likely player in any sort of a deadly game.

“You’re leaving?” Earl asked, startled.

“Not without making the motion,” Brian demanded. “Come on, now. Just make it.”

“Okay,” I said, still standing.

The rest of the group quieted down. Claudia Modlin, her blond hair neat, held her pen ready.

“I move that the HBA advocate Kelly’s proposal, as stated by Brian.”

“Time has come we stand up,” said Ike, putting a fist into the air. “We show the whole world. We can save people here. Many will get jobs. Let’s share our secret. Let’s tell the world about the power of bamboo.”

“Hell,” said Earl. “You’re supposed to second it, Ike, not make a speech.”

“I second it, then,” Ike said, his froggy voice loud and clear.

The noise level at the table rose, each HBA member disagreeing again with his neighbor. “Settle down, now,” Earl said. “We’ll have plenty of time to discuss the motion further at our next meeting.” As they bickered, I quickly made for the exit.

When I got to the front door, I had another thought. I scribbled a note and asked the young waitress if she would mind taking it. I wrapped it in a five-dollar bill,
a healthy tip, and then walked out into the Hawaiian sunshine.

Two minutes later, Claudia Modlin joined me on the bench out in front of Bamboo.

“I just wanted to thank you for helping me back there,” I said.

“It was fun to see Earl squirm.” Her tanned face was unable to hide a hint of satisfaction. “It was horrible of him to railroad this meeting after what just happened to Kelly. We usually have two dozen members in attendance, but Earl knew many of us would stay away out of respect for Kelly. I almost didn’t come, but I’m glad I did.”

“Were you close to Kelly?” I asked. She was in her young forties, I guessed, but looked wonderfully fit. Perhaps living in Hawaii gives one great skin.

“He was a dear boy,” she said, her voice softening. “My husband is a doctor on this island, and Kelly and he used to go surfing together, along with my sons.”

“I see.” Again, I was reminded of how strong a swimmer Kelly had been, how comfortable in the ocean.

She looked at me and said, “I’m surprised we haven’t met you before. How long have you known Kelly?”

It’s amazing how much you can get away with in life if you just practice the art of ignoring the questions you don’t want to answer. I’d learned this from watching politicians on TV. Instead of admitting I didn’t actually know Kelly from Adam, I came up with a distracting question of my own. “I’m concerned about his death,” I said, lowering my voice. “Aren’t you?”

Claudia Modlin sighed. “It’s very rough, the surf here. People don’t realize how dangerous.”

“You think he was swept off into the ocean?”

“It’s certainly possible.”

“Really?”

“There was a tourist couple visiting Kauai not very long ago. From Indiana, I think, or Illinois. They were walking out on some rock outcroppings with their eleven-year-old son while the tide was very low. People think that’s safe to do.” She shook her head. “I imagine they were having a wonderful time, a great family holiday in Hawaii. But then a wave came—a rogue wave, very large and unexpected—and it swept the parents off the rocks. Isn’t that tragic? Right in front of their boy. And they were gone. They were dead. Drowned just like that. It was on the news for days. There were dozens of witnesses on the beach nearby, all shocked, of course. A kind man took the son back to shore. Can you imagine? That’s the ocean. Never turn your back on it.”

Again, a story about death in paradise.

“That’s horrible. But tourists from the Midwest might not know any better. Kelly was a local guy. He was a surfer, a man who knew these waters very well. Aren’t you at all surprised that such an athletic guy would die this way?”

She looked at me, and something behind her eyes shifted. “I know we’re all shocked that Kelly is gone. But are you saying you don’t believe it was an accident that killed him?”

“Well.” I looked at her and made a quick decision. “Yes.”

“I see.”

“Only, I have to be truthful with you, Claudia. I did not actually know Kelly. I know his fiancé, Keniki.” And as she kept her very wise eyes on me, I told her all about what I suspected regarding the Four Heavens incident as well.

“I wish I knew what to say.” Claudia pulled her sunglasses
out of a straw bag and began to polish the lenses with a special tissue. “I’m sure more information will come to us. There’s sure to be an official investigation. But it makes absolutely no sense to me. I loved Kelly, and I can’t imagine who didn’t.”

“What about Earl?” I asked.

“Yes, the two of them were often at odds,” she said mildly, “but surely you can’t suspect Earl of being involved in Kelly’s death?”

I shrugged.

“And how do you feel about bamboo? Are you a plant lover, my dear?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d say we’re lovers. More like just good friends.”

“I have always loved botany. Passionately. It was my major at UCLA. Kelly and I both found bamboo completely fascinating. We talked about bamboo most of the time. And then he hit it off with the men in my family. They all love the ocean. But I agree with you, it is certainly a mystery. And now I’m afraid I have got to go.”

“Did Kelly have any trouble at work, do you know?” I asked, realizing my final lead had led exactly nowhere.

“He seemed very happy,” she said, shaking her head and standing up.

“Where did he work?”

“Down the coast,” she said, pointing southward. Then she put on her sunglasses. Of course, at this northernmost point on the Big Island, almost everything was located in that direction. “Say,” she said, turning to me, “do you need a ride somewhere?”

“No, thanks. I have a car.”

“Well, then. I wish you luck, my dear.” Claudia Modlin, secretary of the Hawaii Bamboo Association, opened the door of a spiffy late-model Mercedes parked near the
restaurant’s entrance and pulled away from the curb like a bat out of hell.

I turned to leave, and out of the front entry of Bamboo Restaurant walked Earl, the heartless leader of the HBA.

“Hey, little lady,” he called to me. “Hey. Thought you had gone already.”

“Just talking to Claudia for a minute. Well, bye-bye.” I backed away.

“Say, wait a sec!”

Damn. I had almost pulled it off. As an impostor bamboo fanatic, I had done pretty damned well. I had managed to implant myself into a fractious horticultural society meeting at which I had absolutely no credentials. And then, knowing nothing at all about plants, I had stood up and made a motion to support a bamboo viewpoint that heretofore I had never even heard of. And in the process, I had gleaned a bit more knowledge about Kelly and his enemies. So it seemed to me, my work here was done. Now all I had to do was get the heck out of Dodge pronto before I blew my own cover.

“Miss!” Earl was walking fast. He would catch up with me in just a few more strides. “What did you say your name was again?”

I didn’t want to tick the guy off now. I had done so well up to this point. No one hated me yet. No one was yelling. I was only half a block from my car, but I hesitated to break into a sprint. Instead, I stopped and turned back while Earl caught up with me in one long step.

“Miss…?”

“Bean.”

“Friend of Kelly’s, right?” he asked, looking me over.

Note for the future: when impersonating a plant enthusiast, it is much better to quit while one is ahead. Run like hell after the meeting is over.

“Horrible damned thing,” Earl said. “Boy like Kelly getting washed up onto the rocks at A-Bay. I would never have believed it, great swimmer like Kelly. Terrible thing.”

“It is.”

“You live here on the island, Miss Bean?” He pulled a golfer’s cap out of one of his pockets and put it on, shading his pale eyes.

“No. No, I’m just here for a few days.”

“I see. Well, maybe you don’t know it, then, but me and Kelly have been buddies for a while. I’m the one who brought him into the HBA, in fact. He had a genius for cultivating plants.”

“I didn’t realize you were friends,” I said.

“Oh, hell, yes. He was a great kid.”

“You didn’t agree with his plan for bamboo to take over the world, though.”

“Well, now.” Earl was not a tall man, about my height, and he smiled at me, eye to eye. “We had differences, sure. He was a young man, and perhaps I’m an old one.” He paused.

I work with men like Earl all the time. I knew what Earl wanted to hear. “No,” I said, “you’re not!”

“Okay, then, not too old. But I respected Kelly a lot. I think he was on to something very big. Bamboo is an amazing material. You know that. But the enterprise had to be approached the right way. We need to proceed very, very cautiously. Line up investors. Get some construction giants from the mainland to come over here. Junkets. You know what I mean. Sponsor seminars on bamboo and how to use it in building. Stuff like that.”

“That sounds pretty well thought out,” I said, taking the shortest route to Earl’s heart.

“Sure. I worked as a lobbyist in Lincoln, Nebraska,
before my wife and I decided to move here. It takes a special talent for getting key interest groups to back a major new industry. And that takes time. Kelly was much too impatient. He wanted us to go right to the state legislature. Right now. Get the state to subsidize test bamboo plantations, pay for brand-new processing plants, the whole nine yards. Before we developed a market! He’d drawn up maps, marking out abandoned cane fields and selecting ideal sites, all located on state land. Kelly had lots of grand plans. I told him to take it slowly, but would he listen? Hell, no.”

“You fought about it. Kenicki said—”

“Sure, we had quite a few late-night phone calls, Kelly and me. I’m sure his girlfriend would rather have been canoodling with Kelly, instead of listening to him argue all those times Kelly called me. But Kelly and I enjoyed getting a rise out of each other, getting into the nittygritty details of our plans. Jeez, I can’t believe he’s really gone.”

What Earl said made sense. And so, I had to reconsider everything. Looking at it all from this angle, it wasn’t plant politics gone deadly. It was a couple of bamboo enthusiasts disagreeing about the finer procedural points of a pie-in-the-sky, altruistic plan that could mean work to men who really needed it. A gallant plan to save their adopted home state by cultivating the vegetation they loved.

I’d run clean out of ideas and subtlety. I held up a hand and shaded my eyes from the glare of the steady sun. “Earl, do you have any idea why Kelly would have been in a vacant hotel room at the Four Heavens Resort yesterday?”

“Not a clue. Was he?” he asked, smiling down at me.

“Yes.”

“Well, let me guess. Meeting up with his girlfriend, maybe, for some afternoon delight?”