= The Transect
  A Kay Yoshinobu Mystery
  by John A. Broussard

From her first day in law school, Kay Yoshinobu had never even considered any other career. She did, however, frequently change her mind about what part of her work she liked best. Currently, she was opting for the surprises she frequently ran into. Corky Medeiros had just called, asked for a half-hour of her time, and had been reluctant to explain exactly why over the phone. Now why in the world would Napua's only detective sergeant be wanting or needing an attorney?

The relationship between the two women was a complex one. In defense of her clients, Kay sometimes found herself in direct opposition to Corky. In other cases, they had worked together well, even though that was somewhat unorthodox. And each admired the other's talents and valued their growing friendship.

In anticipation of Corky's visit, Kay pushed aside her other work and gave the word to Leilani Pak, the office receptionist, to hold all calls. After arriving and settling back in one of the office's imitation leather chairs, Corky immediately got to the point.

"Can you handle cases in a federal court, Kay?"

"I never have, but Sid did, a few years back. Sounds simple enough. You just petition the court, provide your credentials as a duly accredited Hawaii attorney and -- presto! -- you're in. It takes a little boning up on the different administrative rules, and that's about it. The biggest hassle is having to fly over to Honolulu. Why?"

"Because I just came back from jailing Uncle Josh for killing a park ranger on National Park property. I guess that qualifies as a federal offense. They called me because I'm deputized by the Park Service -- Noe Historic Park is just a small chunk of land, and there's only one full-time ranger there. Besides, the feds don't have the facilities on Elima to incarcerate suspects."

"Uncle Josh?"

"Joshua Calavos. He's not really my uncle, but you know how Portuguese are. Just about every older male who's even remotely related to you is 'uncle'. I think Josh is a third cousin or some such thing."

Kay pulled a legal pad in front of her. Corky needed no additional prompting. "Josh is somewhere in his sixties. Out of work since the sugar plantation closed down, but he owns a couple of rental houses and lives off of that income plus social security. Spends a lot of his spare time hunting. He doesn't take down many feral pigs, but he enjoys thrashing through the brush. This morning he set out early, around sunrise, and -- now, remember, this is his story -- he was crossing that narrow part of Noe Park up on the ridge to get to one of the areas he generally hunts in.

"Hunters are supposed to case their rifles when they're on Park lands, but I don't know of any of them who ever bother when crossing that section. It's such a short distance. Josh didn't. Technically, that's what he's being held on, but he'll be arraigned before a federal judge, and it looks like the charge is going to be a lot more serious than that.

"You see -- and again this is according to Josh -- he came into a clearing, just beyond where the trail enters the park area, and saw a man lying on the ground. He went over, reached down to see what was wrong, said something like 'You okay?' then shook him. That's when he realized the man was dead. Head bashed in, blood still oozing out of his skull, and a good-sized rock next to him, which was pretty obviously the murder weapon.

"The dead man was a ranger, and just about then his partner came out of the brush. You probably know her-- the permanent ranger there, Jessie Norwell. She was the one who made the arrest and called us in immediately."

Kay broke in. "Do you mean she arrested him because his gun wasn't cased?"

"That, and because she assumed he'd killed the dead guy. And it turns out she had good reason for suspecting him, even though she didn't know it at the time."

"Motive?"

"Unfortunately, Uncle Josh has one and then some. The dead man is Kala Kamakaua. He was a ranger with a degree in botany. He's a local who was currently stationed on the Mainland. He was out here because of the miconia eradication program the county and Park Service are launching. He and Jessie were out doing a transect. I'm not sure what that means, but it involved deciding where to start eradicating.

"Well, it's common knowledge in the family that Josh threatened Kala years ago, when Kala was still in training in the ranger program over on Oahu. Kala's gay, and Josh accused him of turning Josh's son, Manley, into a homosexual. Before Josh could carry out his threats, the Park Service shipped Kala out. So here Josh suddenly comes across him in the middle of nowhere. It's not going to look good."

"How long ago was this hassle between Josh and Kala?"

"It was over ten years ago, but a lot more serious than a hassle. Josh actually went off hunting for Kala on Oahu, gun and all. The Honolulu PD picked him up for terroristic threatening. He got sixty days. By the time he got out, Kala was gone."

"Ten years!"

Corky broke into a grin. "Portuguese are worse than Sicilians. They carry grudges for generations. They even have a name for it. Vinganca. It can start over just about anything, even something like welching on a gambling bet at a cockfight. Josh is of the old school. He considers being gay almost as serious an offense before God as not paying off on a bet. And the worst of it is that Manley is back on Elima working as a clerk at Wal-Mart."

"Oh, oh!"

"Right. Meantime, the park superintendent, Isaac Girona, is here supervising the study, and he showed up at the station even before I got Josh there. He looked down his nose at me, insisted on questioning Josh himself, and demanded that a senior police officer be present. He asked specifically for "Homicide Lieutenant Hank DeMello". Hank didn't realize he was that famous. Anyhow, Hank Mirandized Josh. Not that it did any good. Uncle Josh was always a waha, and that big mouth sure flapped away. So they flew him out on the next plane to Oahu to a holding pen on one of the military bases."

"Did he say he had it in for Kala?"

"He sure did. Fortunately, he thinks Manley's gone straight. He hasn't. He's living with a boyfriend, and about everyone but his Dad knows it. If Josh had known it, he probably would have gone to the Mainland to hunt down Kala."

"Well, what do you think? Did Josh kill him?"

Corky looked uneasy and shifted in her chair. "I don't think he did it. For one thing, a rock isn't Uncle Josh's weapon of choice, especially when he happens to have an uncased, loaded rifle in his hands. And Kala had weight and a forty-year advantage over him, so I can't see Uncle Josh grappling with him. No scratches or signs of a struggle on either of them, by the way. In fact, it looks as though someone bashed Kala while his back was turned. Now I know he couldn't have been dumb enough to turn his back on Uncle Josh."

To Corky's satisfaction, Kay immediately went into her business mode. "First things first. Our firm works cooperatively with a Honolulu law office. I'll contact them, and someone there should be able to get Josh out on bail by tomorrow at the latest. It may be steep. Can he swing it?"

"Definitely. His relatives will chip in. I'll even add some of my hard-earned wages to the pot." She grinned. "We Portagee stick together."

Following the phone call to Oahu and the assurance that an attorney would be on her way to Hickham Field within the hour, Corky asked, "What next?"

"Standard approach. We make out a list of any witnesses, suspects, people involved one way or another and any others we think might be useful. Start reeling them off."

"Manley, of course. Uncle Josh lives alone. His other five kids are scattered all over the Mainland."

The list eventually included: Manley Calavos; his partner Monte Ching; the pathologist; Superintendent Isaac Girona; Ranger Jessie Norwell and Josh, himself. "There'll be more before we're through, I'm sure," Kay observed as she pushed her reading glasses up into her hair.

"Now what?"

"A field trip. Can the PD spare you long enough to go back to the crime scene?"

"No problem." Corky smiled as she added, "Uncle Josh is Hank DeMello's real uncle."

"OK. You know more about the trail than I do. When's a good time to start?"

"Let's figure around four at the trailhead. The site is thirty-three hundred feet up, and since it's on the windward side, the cloud cover should be overhead by then. That'll give us a good couple of hours of daylight to check out the spot. I'll call Jessie so she can be there to show us around."

"Great. We can interview her and kill two birds with one stone. I'll quit early here and go home to change into my hiking clothes. How much of a climb is it?"

"Trailhead's around five hundred feet, and it's only about a mile and a half to the Park boundary. So you can look forward to some steep switch-backs."

"I'm glad I play tennis every week. It sounds like quite a hike."

"It is. Twice in one day will be plenty for me."

* * *

It was quite a hike. By the time they reached the clearing, Kay had discovered muscles tennis playing had never utilized. A crowd had preceded them, since the Park Service had flown over two armed rangers to guard the crime scene, along with some forensic investigators of its own to look the area over before again opening it to public access. Jessie left the crowd and walked over to greet the huffing pair.

Kay recognized her, couldn't remember from where, reminded herself that Elima was a small island and shook the proffered hand. Jessie was almost six feet in height, wearing a uniform that was usually uncomplimentary to a female figure but seemed well suited to hers. She was also blonde, grey-eyed and very attractive. "I'll bet she has to lather on the sun lotion," Kay thought, thankful for her own dark complexion.

Introductions and Corky's explanation of Kay's role took only a moment. Jessie seemed prepared for questions, but showed visible surprise at Kay's first one. "Could you explain to me what a transect is?"

The ranger recovered quickly. "It's nothing more than a straight line bisecting the island. It's used to sample flora and fauna to see what's around, what might be threatened, what ecological changes may be occurring and, just generally, it's an evaluation of the territory. Usually it's college students doing the survey. They count birds, mammals, reptiles, plants -- you name it. In this case Kala and I were working this transect from the ridge up there down to the ocean to evaluate the invasion by miconia."

"I guess my next question is: what's miconia? I've heard it's a nasty weed that's spreading through the islands. But that's about all I know about it."

"So far there's very little here. Tahiti has been overwhelmed by it. Come here and I'll show you some." Kay and Corky followed Jessie across the clearing and off to a brushy area where some glossy, large-leaved green plants, no more than a foot tall, formed a cluster of their own in the midst of some bracken.

"They look innocuous enough. Actually rather pretty."

"That's the problem. They are pretty. People plant them in their gardens. In a lot of places, they're no problem, but given the right soil and temperature conditions, they go wild. In two or three years, these will be ten or fifteen feet tall. I've seen photos of a plant in Tahiti that's actually a fifty-foot tree. It doesn't take long for that kind of growth to become a shade cover that kills everything under it. Even shade-tolerant plants get crowded out."

It was Corky who asked, "Why not just pull 'em up?"

"That was the reason why Kala and I were out here. We are going to pull them up, but we wanted to know where the infestation was worst, first. Getting them all up is labor intensive. And if we find some established groves with large plants, then they have to be grubbed out or cut and treated with chemicals to kill them. The county has some money for eradication, and so does the Service, but we can't do it all at once. Mostly we want to cut out the mature plants before they go to seed, and then we can worry about these."

"Oh," Kay said, "I see. After checking along this transect, then you and Kala planned to do another one. Is that right?"

Jessie nodded.

"I know you've probably been over this several times already," Kay went on, "but could you tell us exactly what happened this morning from the time you and Kala came up here?"

"No problem. We arrived here shortly after dawn. We were figuring on walking the transect from the ridge up there," she pointed to a prominence some five or six hundred yards above them, "down to the ocean. When we got here, Kala decided to do the mauka portion up to the top of the ridge while I worked my way makai a ways to see if it was worth spending more time in this area. We planned to rendezvous back here at eight, then work our way down the rest of the way in easy stages if we felt it was necessary. Once you're through the brush and out on the lava field, the going is a lot faster than up here.

"We use positioning equipment, by the way." As she spoke, she took out what looked like a small electronic notebook. "State of the art -- when it's working. It records your longitude and latitude within a few feet when you push this red button. Then, if you enter whatever you're counting or surveying -- birds, plants, soil type -- you have a record of when, where and what.

"My gadget started to act up when I was only a couple of hundred yards out on my survey, so I came back a lot sooner than I'd planned. I was just about to break into the clearing when I heard a voice, or maybe voices -- I can't be sure. I came out of the brush, and there was the old guy with a rifle in his hands bending over Kala, who was lying on his back, the blood pouring out of his head."

"How did he react?"

"He didn't give me any fuss, if that's what you're asking. I told him to put the rifle down, which he did, and that he was under arrest. At first, I thought sure he'd shot Kala, then I saw the bloody rock. That's when I called 911.

"There wasn't any question but that Kala was dead. The police helicopter got here in less than fifteen minutes but, as far as Kala was concerned, time made no difference. He was definitely dead when I got here. I don't imagine he survived that blow for more than a few seconds."

"What did Josh say when you arrested him?"

"He kept saying over and over that he'd just found Kala like that and was trying to help him when I came into the clearing."

"He didn't resist arrest?"

Jessie shook her head. "No, as I said, he didn't give me any guff. But, believe me, I was nervous the whole time. After all, I wasn't armed, and he was. Since this is sometimes a blind area for cell phones, I was really relieved when I got right through."

"Did you notice anyone else on the trail?"

"Nope. Definitely not. That doesn't mean much, of course. The old guy could very well be telling the truth, and someone else might have done Kala in and taken off, either through the brush or in the other direction from where this Josh was coming from. It just didn't look good when I caught sight of him. Besides, the uncased gun gave me a basis for the arrest. I figured the local police and the Park Service officers would sort it out."

The remaining daylight was spent in locating the exact spot where the murder occurred -- not difficult, since it had been well marked by the scene-of-crime crew -- and finding where Jessie had come back into the clearing. Before heading back down the trail, Kay asked, "Does it look like a serious infestation of miconia around here?"

"Uh-uh. It's mostly small plants that won't be going to seed for a while. I'm sure there are other sections we'll have to deal with first. At least that's what I'll be recommending in my report."

Since the trail back down to the road was narrow, Corky and Kay single-filed and said very little. Once in the car, and headed back to town, Corky turned to her passenger and asked, "Any ideas?"

"None."

"So it looks bad for Josh?"

"Unfortunately, yes. But we still have a long way to go. Let's divvy up the people we have to talk to. I'll leave the pompous superintendent to you. Maybe you should take Hank along if you think he's going to be a problem. And get a copy of the preliminary autopsy report. I doubt there'll be much there, but we'll add it to the file. Get the background information on everybody -- but I guess I don't need to tell you that. I'll see if I can run down Josh's son and his partner. Wal-Mart is open seven days a week, so unless I catch him on his day off, it will have to be after hours. And then I should be able to talk to Josh, if the Honolulu attorney was able to spring him."

"Whoa! Wait a minute. You've got a week's worth of work planned out for us there."

Kay grinned. "This gives you some idea of how hard we attorneys work."

The answering grin was a bit forced. "Is that why you get paid so much more than us police peons?"

* * *

The following morning's interview with Josh was no more productive than Kay had anticipated. Being home didn't improve her client's mood. "They took all my guns," were the first words the slight, weather-beaten man said to Kay. "What do they expect me to do? Sit 'round and stare at that damn thing all day?" He nodded in the direction of his TV set.

Kay broke out her tape recorder and moved on to the important issues. "Don't, under any condition, speak about what happened in the Park or anything to do with it to anyone. And I mean anyone, including Corky and Hank. Do you understand?" Corky had already warned Kay that Uncle Josh needed to be kept on a short leash.

A grumbled, "Yeah, yeah, yeah," was the answer. "But that's all humbug. I didn't kill that no-good Kala. He was dead when I got there. One of his queer friends must have done it. They got into a fight, and the other one bashed him on the head with that rock. Then he musta took off down the trail just as I came up. Maybe he heard me coming. I guess I was huffing and puffing. Not as young as I used to be. And you have to go way to hell and gone to find pigs these days. Then...."

Kay interrupted. "Let's get back to exactly what happened and what you saw when you got to the clearing."

Josh settled back to a long description. With occasional detours to talk about the weather, the terrain, the scarcity of game and a few other irrelevant considerations, the story was essentially the same as the one Kay had heard secondhand from Corky.

When Josh started in for the third time about how pig hunting was not like the old days, Kay broke in to ask about Kala. "I understand you knew him from when he was on Oahu."

"I sure did. And you probably heard a lot more. That doesn't mean I killed him. I've read a lot about queers since then. Seen a lot on TV, too. I guess maybe they're born that way, but I never saw it in Manley. Maybe it's like drinking. They say some people are born drunks but, hell, you have to get to drinking before you can become one -- no matter what you been born with.

"'Course, if Manley was going to turn out that way, I guess he woulda anyway, even if he hadn't hung around Kala and his queer friends. But it looks like Manley is finally straightening out. Maybe he'll meet some nice Portuguese girl who'll hatch me out some grandsons. So far the other kids either ain't married or just got girls. Some of them real cute, though. You should see Bettina Ann." With that he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. At that stage, Kay knew there would be a lot of photos and little of relevance forthcoming. She punched the stop button and got ready to leave as gracefully as possible.

* * *

On the drive back to the office, the cell phone interrupted Kay's pessimistic thoughts. Corky's familiar voice came through, with barely disguised excitement breaking the surface.

"I don't know what you've got," Corky said, "but I've uncovered some first-rate gems."

"Don't make me guess. What have you found?"

"To begin with, Jessie is married."

Kay couldn't resist a raucous laugh and almost ran a red light in the process. "Don't tell me that makes her a prime suspect."

"Being married might not. But wait till you hear who she's married to."

"C'mon, c'mon. You're worse than Sid. You just love to dangle tidbits. Who's she married to?"

A note of triumph. "Steve Santos."

"So? Who's Steve Santos." A moment of silence, then the memory of a tall, broad-shouldered, really handsome male popped into Kay's mind. She'd gone into Sid's office one day without knocking and found this stranger there talking to her fellow attorney -- who also happened to be her significant other. The client had stood, a devastating smile crossing his face as he shook hands with her at Sid's introduction and accompanying scowl. The handshake had lasted a little too long, and Kay had to admit she felt the charm suddenly filling the office. She had quickly excused herself and gone back to her own digs.

The silence prompted a derisive comment from Corky. "Ah, hah. I can just bet you remember him. GQ cover of the year, if they knew about him. The only trouble is that he has a long rap sheet, including that pakalolo charge Sid got him off on due to a handy technicality."

"That was no technicality. It was a U. S. Supreme Court decision that got him off. The police, and you were probably in on it, used thermal devices to spot his woodshed nursery. You should have known better."

A hint of amusement now crept into Corky's voice. "I'm on the way to your office right now. It may be best if I see you there. Talking on the cell phone about Steve Santos probably isn't safe while you're driving."

The remainder of the drive back gave Kay a new idea, which she immediately broached when she and Corky had settled down in Kay's office.

* * *

"No way." Corky shook her head on hearing Kay's brainstorm. "A pakalolo patch couldn't be hidden up in that area. Fly-overs can find them just about anywhere if they're out in the open, and they pretty much have to be in order to have the requisite amount of sunlight. Nope. Besides, with the way the law is now, just about any smoker can grow his own weed. No one gets busted anymore for one or two plants. So the price has dropped down to where commercial growing isn't worth the bother."

Kay had to admit her idea was a dead end.

"Worse yet," Corky added, "Steve's got a virtually iron-clad alibi. He's manager of the warehouse for Wal-Mart, and was there at seven-thirty yesterday morning."

Kay looked crestfallen.

"Cheer up," her companion went on. "I told you I found gems. Remember, I said Manley works for Wal-Mart too. He's a cashier there. Well, guess where his partner Monte Ching works?"

"Wal-Mart."

"Right on. He's the manager of the electronics section, and that's no small rice bowl."

"Three of them working at the same place. Hmm."

"Well, it could be part coincidence, and it's not all the same place. The warehouse is blocks away from the store. And, for all we know, Monte and Manley may have met while working for Wal-Mart."

"That adds two more names to our list to interview."

"Steve and the store manager, right?"

"Right."

"I'm ahead of you. And I already know the manager. Segundo Tabal. I've spoken to him several times, back when I was in theft and burglary. He's death on shoplifters. Not a bad guy. I'm sure he'll be cooperative. We'll probably find out more from him than we either need or want to know."

"O.K. I've wished most of my paper work off onto Sid, so I have plenty of time to work through our list. There's Monte, Manley, the park Superintendent and now the Wal-Mart manager and Steve Santos to go."

"Shall we do each of them as a team?"

Kay was amused. "Especially with Steve. We can give each other protection."

"We may need it. When I testified at his trial, he kept smiling at me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. Right after court that day, he met me outside and started to put the make on me."

"I take it you didn't succumb?"

Corky chuckled. "As Hank frequently reminds me, this is a small island. I was tempted to pat one of Steve's nice buns when he started walking away disappointed, but I knew it would be all over the police station before I even got back. God, but he does have a seductive smile, and what teeth!"

"Okay. While you're reminiscing, I'll start in on the phone calls to map out who we see, when and where."

Following the barrage of phone calls, Kay announced the results. "We're in luck. Monte and Manley are home right now. It's their day off, so let's take them first. Steve's willing to meet us right after work at the Malalani bar. It seems that Jessie is working late tonight. So you might say we're privileged. The Superintendent has given us a nine o'clock appointment tomorrow morning. 'Fifteen minutes. Be there on the dot.' Sounds like we'll have to stand at attention during the interview. The Wal-Mart manager was just the opposite. He acted as though we were doing him a favor. Anytime in the morning is fine with him, so let's go there from the Park Service office as soon as we've been mustered out by the Super."

"Phew. Sounds like a couple of busy days."

"See, I told you. Attorneys earn every cent they make. Let's go. Monte and Manley are waiting."

The pair not only seemed pleased at the visit, but had actually prepared coffee and laid out some petit fours for their guests. Manley, dark-haired, with contrasting blue eyes, was of medium height, slender, attractive, and clearly outgoing. Monte, somewhat taller and heavier, was more reserved and almost immediately exhibited a protective attitude toward his partner. While Corky and Kay occupied a sofa in the comfortable living room, Manley sat across the coffee table from them, and Monte perched on an arm of his partner's chair.

The first question, following introductions, came from Manley and was addressed to Kay. "Do you think there's any chance they'll convict Dad?"

"There's never any certainty in such matters. Right now it doesn't look good, because the circumstances at the scene sure didn't help him. Besides, he's the only one we know of who has a motive, and the prosecutor knows what it is."

"Me?"

"Exactly."

Monte broke in. "I'm sure he doesn't know about us."

"Perhaps not. But he knew about Kala, and he did make threats."

Corky kept notes of the interview, the net result of which -- she and Kay later agreed -- was "not much".

"I don't see how Manley could have been involved," Kay mused as they were driving back to the office. "He says he was on the register by seven and didn't have a break until ten. That should be easy to check on."

"Monte could have gotten away. As manager in his department, he doesn't have to be there every minute. Even so, I can't see how he could have round-tripped it up to the clearing in less than two hours, and he would have to have been in really good shpe at that -- running both ways."

"And not running into either Jessie or Josh in the process."

"Right. It doesn't seem possible, but let's get the manager's O. K. to check with the employees. There's always a chance one or the other of the pair took off and had someone cover for him."

As Kay got out of the car, Corky said, "Six-thirty, at the Malalani, right?"

"Yup. I'll drop by your apartment and pick you up."

"What are you going to tell Sid?"

"Why, I just have to interview someone who could help my client. No problem. How about your latest? Clint, isn't it?"

Corky snorted. "As long as the TV set works, he won't even notice I'm gone."

"Oh, well. It's just an interview. We don't have to dress fancy."

"I agree. Nothing to make a big fuss over. See you around six-fifteen."

"Six-fifteen or so."

* * *

Since Kay seldom saw Corky in anything but trousers, she surveyed her own wardrobe with that in mind. The end result was a nicely tailored pair of navy pants and matching pumps. A sleeveless, powder-blue, semi-transparent silk blouse seemed a nice accompaniment. The finishing touches were a somewhat brighter lipstick than usual and a necklace of faux sapphires with matching stud earrings.

Corky's main concern was achieving just the right touch of mascara. Once that was out of the way, her apparel fell neatly into place. Black was in this year, so her attire became a black gabardine miniskirt, dark panty-house and a plain black, long-sleeve, low-cut blouse with a gold cross hanging down pointedly toward a cleavage which she knew could never match Kay's. Black open-toed heels completed the outfit.

The two women surveyed each other when Corky opened the door of her apartment. Corky thought, "Jeez, you can just about see through that blouse." Kay consoled herself with the observation that at least Corky's miniskirt wasn't leather. A moment of silence ensued, and then they both started to laugh.

"We should be able to make him confess to just about anything," Corky said, "Let's go."

Steve Santos was sitting at the bar nursing a drink. Seeing them in the mirror, he turned, slipped off his stool and gave them one of his devastating smiles. Corky noted that there was now some greying at the temples since she had last seen him in court sitting next to Sid. If anything, the touch of white hair added to his charm. The expensive grey suit he wore -- not what one would expect to see on a Wal-Mart warehouseman -- showed off his broad shoulders and slim waist to perfection. Kay's first thought was wonder at how Jessie kept him corralled. Her second thought was that she probably couldn't.

"This is the nicest appointment I've made since senior prom, and that was more years ago than I care to admit to." As he spoke, he held out a hand to each of them and suggested they move to a booth.

"I'm ready to be cross-examined," he said, once Kay with her glass of Chardonnay and Corky with her coffee had settled down opposite him in a booth back in a dark corner of the plush bar.

Kay took the initiative, well aware there really wasn't much they could ask and even less they could expect in the way of answers. "As I told you, I represent Joshua Calavos, and Corky was the arresting officer. I'm sure Jessie must have told you about what happened. We're just trying to run down anyone who might have known either Josh or Kala Kamakaua."

"Sorry, Kay, I never met either of them that I know of. I wish I could help. Jessie says it looks pretty bad for Josh, but all she can do is to tell you like it was." He shrugged his broad shoulders, gave each of them an equal share of one of his smiles and waited for the next question.

Corky couldn't help but admire Kay's ability to ask just the right questions to elicit what her subject might not have wanted to reveal in the first place.

According to Steve, he had long since left the drug scene behind him, his marriage to Jessie had helped him make the turnaround, and his current position as warehouse manager for Wal-Mart was both a demanding and a satisfying one. As it turned out, he did know Monte Ching. He dealt directly and frequently with him, because electronic equipment often needed special handling. He had never met Manley Calavos that he knew of, though he may have seen him behind one of the counters -- might even have checked out some items at his register.

The morning of the murder was handled in a markedly relaxed fashion. He'd been in his office in the warehouse all that morning handling invoices for incoming shipments. Some of what came in had, in fact, been expensive digital cameras and computer monitors needing special care in handling, all of which he had personally supervised.

With professional matters out of the way, seductiveness went into high gear. Kay was amused to notice that Steve was having difficulty focusing. Dividing his attention between two potential candidates was something he was obviously not prepared to handle. Kay and Corky had little difficulty, though some reluctance, at leaving after they had gotten all the useful information they felt would be forthcoming.

Corky's comment to Kay, as she got into the passenger seat of the car was, "Jeez. He makes my toes tingle."

"I was too busy trying to figure out whether or not he was telling the truth when he said he was out of the drug scene to notice any reaction in my toes."

Corky was only half listening. Almost dreamily, she said, "I think he was more fixated on your blouse than he was on my gold cross." Before Kay could answer, Corky went on. "Forget it, Kay. He may smoke pot, but I'd be willing to bet he doesn't grow much of it anymore -- certainly not on National Park land. And you sure as hell can bet that Jessie's not wasting her time on that kind of weed. Miconia is the only plant she's interested in."

"Maybe. O. K. I'll move on to other matters. The Superintendent at nine in the morning. I figured we might as well share pompous asses, since we dealt so well together with Mr. Adonis."

"Right you are. I'll be by your office at eight. It'll take us forty-five minutes or so to get over there. Remember, we have to be in his office at nine. Sharp!"

* * *

As it turned out, they arrived with ten minutes to spare. The middle-aged receptionist greeted them with a smile. "You're expected, but Superintendent Girona doesn't let anyone into the inner sanctum until right on the minute." Her visitors both sensed immediately that Isaac Girona was no hero to his receptionist.

"Can I get you some coffee in the meantime?" Corky accepted the offer. Kay declined, instead studying the woman who quickly poured a cup for Corky and one for herself. Kay decided from the brief observation that Carla Compton, as the name plate on her desk read, was a capable, efficient person. It made her hope that those qualities applied to her boss as well.

"That was a terrible tragedy," the receptionist said. "Kala seemed like such a nice boy."

"Did you know him well?" Corky asked, looking up from her steaming cup.

"No. Hardly at all, in fact. He came in the day before and we chatted. That was the first time he'd been back to Elima in years. He was looking forward to working that transect."

"He didn't say anything about meeting anyone up there, did he?" Kay asked.

Carla shook her head. "Other than Jessie -- and they were going up together -- I don't think anyone else knew he was on the island. Except for Superintendent Girona, of course."

The conversation was interrupted by a buzzer and a disembodied voice, which said, "Carla, you can send them in now."

The receptionist looked at the clock with its minute hand standing straight up, rose with a smile, opened her boss's door, and waved them in.

Superintendent Isaac Girona looked much as Kay had expected. Slim, sitting ramrod straight in his chair, with a marine hair cut and an impeccable Park Service uniform, the man behind the desk stood and shook hands carefully and firmly with each of his visitors. "Please have a seat. Let's move on immediately to the reason why you're here. I have only fifteen minutes, as I told you."

Since Corky had already had a none-too-successful encounter with this individual, it had been decided beforehand that Kay would do the questioning. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. I have only one or two questions. Could you give me your impression of Kala Kamakaua."

"Certainly. A brilliant young man with a very promising future. I'm afraid his demise will set back our entire miconia eradication program by months. But, of course, that's a small matter when weighed against the loss of such a person."

"Do you know if anyone outside of the Park Service knew he was on the island?"

"So far as I know, we were the only ones. But, of course, he may have contacted others either before or after he arrived. That was the day before he and Jessie went out in the field."

"Could you also give me your impression of Jessie Norwell?"

The answer to this question was slower in coming and seemed to elicit an element of uneasiness. "As you know, I'm here only on a part-time basis. This park is only one of a number of Service holdings in the islands. So I really don't know Jessie very well. She seems quite competent. We've had no complaints. I do know this tragedy was quite upsetting to her."

It was Corky who broke in. "Could you tell us where you were on the morning of the tragedy?"

The atmosphere immediately changed. The tone of voice became frigid. "I was out at dawn along the southern boundary of the Park, inspecting reported feral pig damage to the ohia plantings in that area. And, before you ask, I didn't meet anyone, nor was anyone with me."

Kay decided to smooth over the waters by shifting the topic to the positioning devices used by the rangers. Girona glanced at his watch and stood.

While herding them out of his office he said, "As you may know, Jessie was having some problems with hers. I sent them both to our maintenance shop on Oahu. Ordinarily, we transcribe the material to our computer here in the office once a week, but in this instance it didn't seem necessary and we do need them to be in working order for our further studies."

Having overheard part of the conversation, Carla looked up from the computer and said, "I copied Kala's record into the computer as soon as the police released it to us. If anyone wants to see what was on it, I can bring up the data in a second."

Girona simply shrugged. "I have an important phone conference coming up, but if Carla wants to take time to show you what she transcribed, there's no reason why you can't stay and look at it."

It took little convincing, after Girona retired to his office, for Carla to not only show them the data but also to produce hard copy, which Kay read out loud to Corky on their way to Wal-Mart for their second interview of the morning.

"Damn," Kay said after a few minutes. "He slipped into some kind of shorthand after the first few lines. And I can't really read these position figures. We'll have to get someone more knowledgeable to interpret them for us. But the first ones must have been right off the trail. Now what does he mean by excellent soil? Just generally excellent?"

"Excellent for miconias, is what I'd guess," Cory ventured.

"I think you're right. Next entry is 'cluster of three-foot specimens.'"

"That has to be what it is. After all, that's what he was looking for."

"And he records more. Smaller numbers, it seems, as he goes higher. Yes, he says so himself. I'm beginning to get the drift of these position numbers. This one must be right at the top of the ridge. And here's a comment. 'Size, numbers, soil condition -- indication much larger specimens must be present makai.'"

"Interesting, but what does it prove?"

"Didn't you get the impression from Jessie that there weren't any large specimens along that transect? I guess that doesn't prove much, but I wish I could be sure about what all this means. Maybe after we see the Wal-Mart manager we can go out to the State Ag office and get some expert to look at these notes."

"OK. OK. You've convinced me. Attorneys do earn their money."

* * *

Segundo Tabal would never have been mistaken for Isaac Girona. Small, probably not much over 5'2", the slender dark-haired Filipino was all smiles as he waved the two women into what was a nicely-appointed office. He appeared pleased to see them and was most certainly both hospitable and cooperative.

Freshly-brewed Kona coffee and choice cookies awaited them, and Tabal did the honors. "Please do sit down. Perhaps you would prefer tea? No? Then do be comfortable. I will be happy to answer any questions you may have. I understand that you are inquiring about some of our employees. Naturally, some of the information is confidential." He shrugged, spread out his fingers and raised both hands palms outwards toward his audience.

"But, after all, if the police want the information, who am I to say no?"

"Let's start with Steven Santos."

"Ah, yes." As he spoke, he rolled his chair back to a four-drawer file cabinet, opened the M-S drawer and pulled out a thick file. "Yes, I know Steve well. Let me see. He has been with us over two years. Very efficient. Very capable."

He held up a hand. "I know what you are going to say. That he has a criminal record, but I'm sure you know that every one of his offenses involved drugs. No theft. No burglary. And we randomly check for drugs, especially in the warehouse, where we have heavy equipment and move enormous pallet boards. He has always tested negative. In this business, drugs are not really our concern, but honesty is essential. Now I would never hire a Filipino to work in the warehouse."

Tabal reacted immediately to the expressions on the women's faces. "Yes, I know all about political correctness and racial profiling and such matters, but I also know Filipinos well." He smiled. "My countrymen are born with sticky fingers. We simply have to recognize it. You should see my grandfather's house in Manila. High stone walls." This was accompanied by a gesture indicating enormous height. "And broken glass embedded along the top.

"Yes, yes. Every nationality has its weaknesses. The Portuguese are bullies. After all, most of our police are Portuguese. What better nationality to run our warehouse? And the Japanese? Honest, honest, honest. Yes, I could put them in a room with hundred dollar bills, come back days later and find none missing. But as clerks? Never. Much too honest. Customers don't want honesty. They want cajolery, flattery and encouragement. They want to buy things they don't need. Terrible clerks, the Japanese."

Kay knew the upper management of the company would be livid if they heard these comments, but she couldn't resist. "What about haoles?"

"Drunks!"

Corky decided it was time to change the subject. She broke in and asked, "What about Manley Calavos?"

In response to Corky's question, the chair again rolled back, this time to produce a somewhat thinner folder from drawer A-E.

"A fine boy. Very efficient. A smile for every customer and a nice 'thank you, come again.' Absolutely no problem. In a few years, he will definitely be promoted."

"And Monte Ching?"

A smile spread across the dark Filipino face. "The customary expression these days, I believe, is that Monte and Manley are an item. That is not our concern, of course," he continued as he went back to riffle through the A-E folders. "Here it is." An enormous folder came out of the collection.

"A rare combination indeed. Monte is not only a superb salesman, but he is also an expert in electronics, something I myself know nothing about. He's what they call a 'nerk.' Is that correct? Whatever. Customers have personally called on me to tell me how helpful he has been. My only fear is that upper level management will hear about him, and he will be whisked away to Honolulu, or perhaps even to Los Angeles. I only hope that that very close relationship with Manley will make Monte resist such offers, however tempting they may be."

Unlike their interview with the park superintendent, this one seemed open ended and increasingly irrelevant for their purposes, especially after the manager had made it crystal clear that no employee could possibly have absented himself for a two to three hour stretch on a busy morning without his absence being noted. Kay caught Corky's eye, and they rose simultaneously in the midst of a long paean of praise for the three employees under examination.

Tabal rose also, but with no slowing of the flow. "I'm especially grateful to Steve. Pilferage in the warehouse has dropped to virtually nothing since he has been in charge. Why, all of last week, the only significant missing item was a case of matchbooks."

Kay sensed that something had happened to her companion. Some bit of information from the lengthy interview had made an impact, but she didn't learn what it was until they were both safely in the car and headed back to the station. "It's a break, Kay. Maybe a big one."

"OK. I'm at sea. What's the big break?"

"The missing matches. Why would anyone possibly need a entire case of matchbooks?"

"Beats me, but you seem to know who'd want one."

"There's a valuable ingredient in those matches."

"Fire?"

"Nope. Red phosphorus. It's a major ingredient in making methamphetamine, and it's tough as hell to buy on the open market."

"Ice!"

"Exactly. It's a pain scraping all those matches, but it works."

"So someone, namely Steve Santos, is making ice."

"Right. The next step is to find out if he's stockpiling the other ingredients. That's the first thing I'm going to check on. Some of it he could get locally. Some of it he could order through the Internet. Some chemicals would have to come from illegal outlets."

By the end of the day, Corky and Kay were convinced they knew who had killed Kala and why. Unfortunately, the evidence that would produce an arrest and an indictable charge was still minimal. Kay went off to the Internet to learn all she could about the manufacture of methamphetamine, while Corky started a canvas of drug and hardware stores. By three, a phone call between the two settled matters.

"The stuff they use is toxic as all hell," Kay exclaimed. "And more and more the labs are out in the boonies where people won't notice the smell and where they can dump the residues where they won't show up immediately. Unlike marijuana, you don't need sunlight. Some jerry-rigged shack in the wilderness to keep the rain off, a water supply, some campstoves to boil up the brew, a college level chemistry course and lots of ingredients. The only other item is the time needed for cooking."

"Acetone's one of the ingredients," Corky contributed. "And I found a clerk, a cute little girl in Ace Hardware, who couldn't help but remember this handsome movie-star type who came in and bought a five-gallon can of acetone. Paid cash, too. I'm ready to move. Meet me at the trailhead at three."

* * *

Three came and went. It was fifteen minutes after. Kay couldn't raise Corky on her cell phone and finally decided to head up the trail alone, leaving a note on her car, figuring that Corky was a faster hiker and would soon catch up with her. Reaching the clearing, she tried to call the station, since there was still no sign of her companion. The dial tone came on and faded in the midst of static. Kay remembered Jessie's statement that this was a dead area.

A little exploration down the makai portion of the transect seemed in order. After all, that was what they had planned, and Corky had to be along soon. Following what looked like a pig trail that wove steeply downhill and which now and then vanished in the underbrush, Kay soon found herself in a veritable forest of miconia. Ten- and twelve-footers surrounded her. As she moved further, the glossy-leaved giants became more and more numerous, then -- caught in a shaft of light breaking through a narrow space -- a flash of metal caught her eye. Approaching more closely she saw a lean-to with a few pieces of aluminum serving as a roof. A sharp chemical smell came from that direction. From behind her came something else.

The voice was icy cold. "Put your hands up in the air, kneel down, and don't move a muscle."

"Jessie," Kay said in a half-whisper.

"Right you are. Jessie, herself. Too bad you've discovered her little secret."

Kay had no doubt about what to expect next. Nearby gullies had sheltered the bodies of hunters for generations before they were discovered. She knew she would soon be joining them. There was the sound of something moving in the brush behind her, followed by the expected shot, followed by nothing.

Kay couldn't believe that Jessie had missed at so short a distance. A familiar but angry voice made her turn around. Jessie was flat on the sloping ground of the hill, blood streaming from her shoulder.

Corky was above her, gun in hand. "Maybe attorneys get paid more than the police do, but they're still a lot dumber."

* * *

A helicopter came overhead almost immediately, a medic rappelled down into the area near the lean-to, and soon Kay, Corky, and the wounded, unconscious Jessie were headed off the ridge.

It wasn't until they were dropped off at the trail head that Kay finally had a chance to thank the still angry Corky. Kay protested, "I called, right from here, but you didn't answer."

"For good reason. I'm tooling down the highway, on time, when some drunk comes shooting out of a side road and damn near creams my car. I'm going to be stiff for a week, and my cell phone will never work again."

"I tried to call the station from the clearing, but the phone wouldn't work up there." Kay wasn't too happy with her own excuse.

Corky ignored it. "I really got worried when I saw your car parked here because I'd checked with the Park Service before coming out, and Carla said Jessie was out in the field. So I ran up that damn hill. Part way up, it occurred to me we might need reinforcements even though I'd brought my trusty forty-five. That's why the helicopter showed up so fast."

"I guess it's not too hard to figure out what happened that morning. Jessie found out Kala intended to move right down the hill looking for the miconia he was already convinced he'd find there. Only there was more to be found on that hillside than miconia. She couldn't possibly let him follow that transect below the trail, so she pounded him on the head with that rock when he wasn't looking. I'll bet she intended to destroy his notes, but then she heard Josh coming up the hill, huffing and puffing as he said."

"Makes sense. She ducked into the brush, and Josh provided her with a substitute murderer, just like that. From the looks of things, Jessie and Steve had a giant batch of ice about ready for packaging. If she could have persuaded Kala to look elsewhere, they could have pulled it off in a few days and he'd still be alive."

Kay nodded. "He died because he was a good botanist. Those notes show he was convinced there would be giant miconia further down the transect, and he was right. What do you think Jessie's going to do. Take the rap? Try to pass it all off on Steve? Or what?"

Corky became thoughtful. "There's not much question but that he came up with the idea for the lab, but she's the one who did Kala in. Remembering that killer smile of Steve's and the charm he can turn on, I suppose she'll be willing to take the fall all the way."

She paused and grinned. "By the way, that drunk who clobbered my car is a haole. Tabal would be pleased to hear that."

Editors' Note: Two of JOHN A. BROUSSARD's novels featuring Kay Yoshinobu, THE DEATH OF THE TIN MAN'S WIFE and THE LEFT HAND OF DEATH, are available as eBooks from HandHeldCrime / Coffee Cup Press for $3.50 (US) in both PDB (Palm Doc) and PDF (eg Adobe Acrobat). Visit www.handheldcrime.com/ebooks for more information.

JOHN A. BROUSSARD was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts in 1924 and received his AB from Harvard and his MA and Ph.D. from the University of Washington. He taught at the college level for twenty years. John also reviews for Bibliophile and I Love a Mystery; his website may be found at http://www.fictionwritings.com/.

Copyrights (c) 2002 John A. Broussard

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