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Later, the U.S. Navy raised the Ehime Maru from a depth of two thousand feet with most bodies still on board, and divers recovered additional victims. Thanks to the Honolulu ME, all but one crew member were identified.
“Unlikely,” I said.
“I agree,” she said.
I looked at Perry. She looked at me. From the hall, I heard the old man’s mop clank his bucket then smack the floor.
I glanced at my watch.
“Now what?” Perry ignored, or missed, the obvious message.
“When you’ve done all you can, taken photos, collected samples, et cetera, clean the bones. When they’re ready, call me.”
I rose.
Perry rose.
Pointedly, I gripped my briefcase in my right hand and held my keys in my left. Sorry, no fingers available for cracking.
Approaching Kailua Beach, South Kalaheo Avenue doglegs, crosses a bridge over Kaelepulu Stream as Lihiwai, and emerges on the other bank as Kawailoa.
Ryan called as I was entering the bridge. He wasted no time on chitchat.
“Plato Lowery is one obstinate bastard.”
“Oh?”
“The old goat refuses to provide a DNA sample.”
“Why?”
“Beats me.”
“He gave no reason?”
“He says he doesn’t need one.”
Lowery was right. He didn’t.
As my mind groped for ideas, my foot eased off the gas. Behind me, a car horn blared. So much for the aloha attitude.
“Are there any other relatives?” I asked. “I thought Plato mentioned a cousin.”
“Not that we’ve found.”
The horn sounded again. My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. A big-ass SUV was right on my bumper.
“The Robeson County sheriff was present when I did the exhumation in Lumberton. His name is Beasley. Call him, see if has any suggestions.”
“Worth a try.” Ryan’s tone conveyed little optimism.
I arrived home as the sun was flattening into the sea.
Katy’s mood had improved buckets since the previous day. So had her appetite. In fact, she was starving. Buzz’s Steakhouse was close, so we fired over there.
The Hawaiian gods were smiling. We scored a deck table and dined overlooking Kailua Beach. I ordered mahimahi. Katy chose teriyaki chicken.
As we ate, Katy described her day. She’d spent the morning in a helicopter, the afternoon su
Lots of blocker?
Yes, Mom.
Hat?
Hm.
Skin cancer. Wrinkles. Blah. Blah. Blah.
Eye roll.
“OK. Start at the begi
“Took a bus. TheBus, it’s called here. I like that. Direct.”
“What did you see?”
“Downtown Honolulu, the harbor, some tower with a marketplace.”
“The Aloha Tower at Pier 9. One of the premier landmarks of the state of Hawaii.”
“The pilot mentioned that.”
“Since the twenties, that lighthouse has guided ships at sea and welcomed visitors and immigrants to Honolulu.”
“He mentioned that too. Compared it to the Statue of Liberty.”
“Fair analogy. What Lady Liberty does for New York City, the Aloha Tower does for Honolulu. For four decades it was the tallest structure in Hawaii.”
“The pilot also talked about shops and restaurants.”
“The Aloha Tower Marketplace opened in nineteen ninety-four. But that’s just one feature. The Hawaii Maritime Center is there, and the historic vessel Falls of Clyde. I read somewhere that Honolulu Harbor is the only harbor in the nation to combine a visitor attraction, retail and restaurant outlets, and working commercial harbor facilities in a single location.”
“I think they do that in Baltimore. My earphones were pretty buzzy. I missed a lot of the commentary. We also flew over something called the Punchbowl.”
The National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific. A final resting place for American soldiers. I didn’t say it.
“And we saw another lighthouse.”
“At Makapu’u Point?”
“I think so. And Mount Olomana. Cool name. Easy to remember.”
“That’s over here, on the windward side of the island.”
“The pilot said there was an awesome trail to the summit. I might try hiking it. And we overflew a place where some Hawaiian king won a battle to unite the islands. Didn’t catch his name or who he was fighting. But I’m guessing he won.”
“Nu’uanu Pali. Ready for some history?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“In seventeen ninety-five King Kamehameha I sailed from his home island of Hawaii, leading an army of about ten thousand soldiers. After conquering the islands of Maui and Molokai, he moved on to Oahu. The defenders of Oahu, led by Kalanikupule, became trapped at Nu’uanu Pali. Kamehameha drove more than four hundred of them over the cliff to their deaths.”
“Brutal.”
“But effective.”
“Will that be on the quiz?”
“Yes.”
For dessert we shared an order of cocolatta, a vanilla bean ice cream–coconut creation that filled us with awe. Our waiter, Fabio, provided instruction on topping the concoction with juice squeezed from fresh limes.
Yeah. Fabio. Bleached hair, unbuttoned shirt, puka beads and all.
Driving home we laughed until our sides hurt.
WEDNESDAY I WAS BACK AT THE CIL BY NINE.
Da
“Aloha.” Beaming.
“You look like one of those obnoxious smiley-face logos.”
I’d slept badly, awakened with bongos thumping in my head. The drive into Honolulu hadn’t helped.
“I feel happy.” Da
“And pretty, and witty, and gay?” Shoving aside journals, I dropped onto a love seat many years past its shelf life.
“Are we having a grumpy-pants day?”
“Headache.”
“Did the ladies enjoy a hearty night out?”
“Katy downed the ten-gallon mai tai, not me.” Rubbing circles on my temples. “What brings such glee into your world?”
“I finally got the poop on the Huey crash.”
“The chopper transporting Spider Lowery from Long Binh?”
“The very one.”
“And?”
“According to the REFNO, the fifth body was never recovered.”
Da
“The missing crew member?”
“The maintenance specialist.”
“Do you have a name?”
Da
Impatient, I gestured for more.
“Luis Alvarez.”
It took a moment for the import to worm through my pain.
“The guy was Latino?”
“Presumably.”
I shot upright. “Let me see.”
Da
The information was meager but telling.
“Spec 2 Luis Alvarez, maintenance specialist. Date of birth February twenty-eighth, nineteen forty-eight,” I read.
“Alvarez was a month shy of twenty when the chopper went down.”
“Five-nine, a hundred sixty-five pounds. Home of record, Bakersfield, California.”
I looked up.
“Alvarez is listed KIA/BNR.” Killed in action, body not recovered.
Da
“If Alvarez was still MIA, why do you suppose they ruled him out?”
“You and I agree that 2010-37’s racial architecture is a mixed bag. Given body condition, the guys at Tan Son Nhut probably missed what we saw. Or maybe someone with little knowledge of bone noted only the more Caucasoid craniofacial features. Either way, they concluded that the guy was white.”