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  A WAVE OF MURDER

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  The Maui Mystery Series

  Kay Hadashi

  A Wave of Murder: The Maui Mystery Series.

  Kay Hadashi. Copyright 2018. © All Rights Reserved.

  This story is a work of fiction. Character names and attributes, places, and situations are completely fictitious, products of imagination, and should not be considered real. Information related to current events should be considered common knowledge and can be easily found in real life. Historical situations, stories, and characters are completely fictitious and should not be considered reflective of actual historical events.

  Cover art by author. Original cover image from pixabay.com

  For more information about Kay Hadashi Novels

  https://kayhadashi.com/

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  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Prologue

  Kala’keilani fell to the ground, wounded. One of the other warriors knelt next to her, while arrows and spears flew all around them.

  “Kala, an arrow!”

  “Pull it out, Kulu.”

  He grabbed the arrow shaft and gave it a tug, causing her to wail in pain.

  “It’s stuck in bone. If I pull too hard, the tip could stay stuck in there forever.”

  “I’m close to the gods already, Kulu. Just pull it out.”

  When the shaft came out from her body, the tip was no longer on it. Kala’keilani felt blood pour from the wound with her hand, learning how close she really was to gasping her last few breaths. She would lose the fight with death, but she wasn’t giving up on the fight against the invading army from another island. Struggling to her feet, she followed Kulu forward, closer to the archers that were hiding in the forest before them. While he ran easily over the rough terrain, for her it was a limping advance.

  “We need to get their chief, and the only way to do that is to get past those archers and spear throwers,” she said.

  “How can we do that?” Kulu asked.

  They were further ahead of any of their village warriors. Both of them were covered with the blood of the dead they had found, warriors from both sides of battle. But it was her own blood that was saturating her simple tapa cloth skirt.

  “We can’t charge. We must wait until their arrows are gone. Let them think we’re dead. Then we attack.” She pointed to a clear area in the trees, the only way they could advance without being slowed down. “Don’t stop to fight. Just keep running until you find the chief and kill him, Kulu.”

  “And the same for you, Kala.”

  “No, I won’t make it this time. There is something wrong with my leg. I won’t be able to keep up. It’s up to you to kill their chief, Kulu. Do this for our village, for our island.”

  He looked at her wound, now bleeding profusely. He knew her fate. Touching her face lightly with his bloodstained hand, he smiled the way she liked, the reason she loved him so.

  “Your name will live forever in the hearts of the villagers as a proud warrior.”

  “Don’t let the others find my body.”

  “I’ll put you in a place worthy of royalty,” he said.

  An arrow skipped off the rock and hit Kala’keilani in the shoulder. This time she pulled it out herself and snapped it in two.

  “Ready, Kulu? Go!”

  They jumped out of their hiding spot and charged forward. Kala’keilani couldn’t keep up, but she fired the last three of her arrows and threw rocks at the faces of the enemy. She was almost through the enemy line when a spear caught her in the chest.

  She went down in a heap. Kulu paused his charge.

  “Go, Kulu, go,” she told him, blood sputtering from her lips. “Save our island.”

  After touching her face one last time, he charged forward, never stopping until his spear had been rammed through the chest of the enemy chief. Once his gruesome task was done, he took the red-feathered kahili standard that marked the man as ali’i and returned to his own chief.

  Later that night, long after the fighting had concluded and the enemy raiders had been killed or paddled off in their canoes, Kulu searched the field of battle. Dozens of warriors littered the taro plots. The ones that had been found alive had their heads bashed in. Others still had arrows and spears protruding from their bodies. It wasn’t until far up the slope toward the mountain ridge that he found Kala’keilani, a spear in her chest along with two arrows. Pulling those free, he laid the weapons on her chest, wrapped her body in the tapa cloth she had been wearing, and carried her up into the mountains. He’d seen caves high in the cliffs as a child, nothing more than small openings in the lava, a perfect resting place for the love of his life. Not even a trail led to one high on a cliff that overlooked the valley below.

  Carrying her dead body in his arms, Kulu struggled to make his way across the perilous ledge to the small cave. Getting there, he lay her body down.

  “My lover, I will miss you forever, until the gods allow us to meet again.”

  Pushing her body, he tucked it into the small cave. Once Kala’keilani was hidden and out of the weather, Kulu placed the spear and arrows that had slain her next to her body.

  Turning to face the heavens that hung low over the valley, he raised his hands into the air and called out a prayer for her passage into her next life. He added a curse at the end.

  “May anyone who disturbs the sacred grave of Kala’keilani suffer a more painful death than hers.”

  Chapter One

  The young man tried taking a deep breath but his ribs hurt too much. His jaw didn’t feel so good, either. Wondering if it was safe or if his beating would continue if he pushed up from the sand, he looked at the two men who had assaulted him.

  “What happened at the library?” the man with fists of stone asked.

  “I tried moving the case but it’s bolted to the floor. The glass is thick, like it’s break-proof. You’ll need something heavy to break in.”

  “And the museum?”

  “That case is locked up tight and alarmed. You can see the wires. Maybe if you know something about disarming museum display case alarm systems, you might be able to get that stuff.”

  The one in charge, the one with the fists, took the beaten man by the neck. “Don’t tell us how to do our work.” He tossed him back down again.

  “You said you found some stuff up in the hills,” the partner in crime said. He always seemed to have beer on his breath. “When do we see some of that stuff?”

  “I told you I’d have it for you tomorrow.”

  “You talk a lot, you know that? You said the same thing last week and again yesterday. How many tomorrows do you think you’re gonna get from us?” one of the men asked while looking down at him. “What’re you doing here at the beach, anyway?”

  “Get some summer surf in. The waves are good.”

  “Seems to me, you’d have better things to do than going out surfing right now, like getting your hands on what we want.”

  “I keep trying to explain why it’s taking so long!” said the young man. “I have to cross private
property to get to the trailhead, and there’s always someone home.”

  “How hard is it to sneak past a house? Quit being a dope and just go get the stuff.”

  He sat up, rubbing his jaw. “Every time I go, they catch me. The last time they were talking about calling the cops.”

  “The cops! Listen to this guy! Nobody calls the cops because of a trespasser.”

  “Dude, if you want to make any money in this business, you’re gonna have to risk the cops. Learn to talk your way out of having the cops called on you.”

  The one with the fists gave him a nudge with his foot. “Just tell us where the stuff is so we can go get it ourselves.”

  “Tell you where I find the stuff? Forget it. I know better than to give away business secrets.”

  “Yeah, well, guess what surfer boy? You wanna say farewell to your teeth?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you seriously threatening me?” he asked, still kneeling.

  “We don’t threaten, dude, we promise. We’ll give you more like you just got a couple minutes ago.”

  The young man was outnumbered and outmuscled. He had little choice but to tell the two thieves where they could find ancient Hawaiian artifacts. It was proving too difficult to steal things from museums and public displays, so they had turned to finding it in the West Maui Mountains. Maybe it took more effort to hike the trail that led to the pali, but there was less risk of being caught and more stuff to find. Just a cursory clean of it, take a few photographs, and put it up for online auction. The gang of thieves was running a tried and true scheme that had already worked on the mainland with Native American Indian artifacts. He decided to spill.

  “Go a mile past the big hospital. There’s a house on the same side of the highway, all by itself. You have to park down by the highway or across at the resort, then walk up their driveway. Go past their little garden and you’ll find a trail through the grass. Follow that for a couple hundred yards to a gate in a pig fence. That’s the tricky part, getting past the house. I suggest waiting until there are no cars parked there.”

  “Don’t tell us what to do. Just the directions, bro.”

  “You’ll have to hike about five miles up into the forest. Once it gets steep and rocky, you’ll take a tiny path to the left for another half mile. It’s hard to see but it’s there.”

  “What’s there?” Fists asked.

  “There’s a cave, not real big. You’ll have to crawl in and use a flashlight.”

  “What’s in there?”

  “Arrows, spearheads, bones. Better to leave the bones behind. I’ve heard the Hawaiians are really sensitive about bones in graves being disturbed.”

  Now that they had what they wanted, the two men started to walk away. “Don’t tell us what to do.”

  “Hey! I want to be paid!” Kenny shouted after them.

  “Paid? For what? We have to get the stuff ourselves!” Fists said.

  “Okay, just pay me half.”

  “Sure. Come to the house at midnight. If we found anything worthwhile, we’ll pay you half.”

  “Promise?” the beaten man asked.

  “We don’t want any trouble with some punk that might go to the police, so yeah, we’ll pay you. We’ll also be done with your help. Don’t come back asking for more work.”

  He watched as the two men left him behind, driving away in a pickup truck. He wouldn’t be getting much money from them for the information he’d just handed over, but it was cash, something he was in short supply of. Maybe best was that they no longer wanted him. Right from the start, he’d been looking for a way of getting out of the little gang of punks.

  “Yeah, it’s time to go get a legit job. No more of this petty thievery stuff.”

  Other than exploring his new lifestyle of living on Maui, his greatest passion in life was surfing. Knowing the surf was at its best right then, he collected his board and walked into the water. It wasn’t his jaw so much as his sore ribs limiting his ability to paddle into the surf. Trying to push up and stand when the first good wave came along, he found he couldn’t do it. Pressing on the side of his chest where he’d been kicked, he figured at least one rib was cracked. But he wasn’t going to waste a good afternoon in the sun. He had a minor victory to celebrate, of getting some hard-earned cash a few hours later, and freedom from his free fall into a life of crime.

  Continuing to paddle out past the surf line to calmer water, he never realized he caught the receding tide. It wasn’t easy, but he got his T-shirt and shorts off to work on his over all suntan. Lying prone on the long board, he let the tension wash away. Soon, sleep crept into his quiet mind.

  There is a fair amount of ocean traffic between the Hawaiian Islands. Cruise ships make the rounds from port to port; pleasure craft occasionally take water skiers out to the open ocean to test their mettle; small fishing boats look for the big game fish of deep tropical waters; even cargo ships loaded with containers coming from the US mainland and from Asian shipping ports find their ways to island ports. But none of them would’ve expected a lone surfer dozing on his board to drift so far out to sea.

  He never heard the thrumming engine of the cabin cruiser as it sped directly at him. When the bow of the boat hit the tail of his board, it flipped him high into the air. Landing with a belly flop, he lifted his head to gasp for air. His cheap rental board was shattered in pieces, none of them big enough to use for flotation. All that was left was the leash that hung from his ankle, swirling in the currents of water. When the boat came around again to rescue him, he waved his arm in the air to let them know where he was. Watching the boat return, it didn’t seem to see him, only racing forward on a collision course. He tried ducking into the water at the last moment, but it was too late. The hull of the boat rammed into his head, crushing his chest, ending his surf excursion—and his life.

  Chapter Two

  It was Dr. Melanie Kato’s last week at work at the hospital before going on maternity leave. As it was, she was cutting things pretty close by doing long surgeries only days before she was due. Putting the final stitches into her patient’s chest, she stepped away to allow her assistant to finish the procedure.

  “All yours, Harm. Make the scar look pretty,” she said to the Physician Assistant she’d known for more than two decades. She’d come to know him first when they both worked as Air Force medics on the Korean Peninsula, and later when he married her best friend, Trinh.

  Like in so many marriages, a roadblock was slammed into when Harmon Ellis found his fancy with another woman. But now here he was, apologetic and contrite, and trying to win back Trinh’s heart. To do that, he had to go through the overly protective Melanie. ‘Harm’ also had to quit his job back in San Francisco and had been hired at the larger of the two hospitals on Maui, where Melanie and Trinh worked. That meant hiring into Melanie’s busy surgical practice, not an easy task. Not only was she perfectionistic, but she also held high expectations for everyone else when it came to patient care.

  The conniving ways of both man and woman must’ve worked, because Harm was gainfully employed, and wedding bells were ringing. Trinh and Harm’s wedding was planned for two weeks later, with the idea that Melanie would have given birth by then. Everybody likes a newborn baby, especially at a wedding. As long as it’s quiet.

  “How are the wedding plans coming, Harm?” she asked him before stepping away.

  “Fine, it sounds like.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I’m barely in the loop. All I know is that I’ve been told where and when, and what to wear. Trinh’s taking care of everything else.”

  “The last time I talked to her about the wedding, she made it sound like she was overwhelmed with everything. Maybe offer to pitch in a little?” Melanie said.

  “I’m already paying for it. Every few days, I get another bill in the mail for something, and I never have a clue as to what. Then she started making noise about having another kid.”

  “And that’s not in the card
s for you?”

  “If we had one right away, I’d be in my eighties by the time the kid graduated from high school. If I live that long.”

  Melanie stepped away and removed her gown and gloves. “So, it’s up to you to decide? Trinh and the kids don’t have a say in it?”

  “I should at least get an equal vote in the deal, have some discussion about it. Relationships are difficult enough, even when things are discussed and decided on together.”

  “Unlike the time you…oh, I forgot. We’re not supposed to bring that up anymore.”

  “I came here to be with Trinh,” he said curtly.

  “Instead of bickering like a couple of old maids in front of our co-workers, let’s save it for another time, okay Harm?”

  That seemed to bring the topic to a close. Sitting on a stool at the desk in the operating room, Melanie picked up her phone to check for messages. She hadn’t heard from her husband and three-year-old daughter since early that morning, unusual for them. Josh often sent pointless text messages, occasionally naughty, disguised in their own personal text-speak language, just to say hello. But since the beginning of her third trimester, and since their daughter became so inquisitive, the naughtiness seemed to be on hold. Setting the phone down again, she began to write post-op orders for the patient.

  “One more week, right?” Ainslie, the nurse, asked.

  “It can’t come soon enough. Between carrying around a bunch of bananas under my shirt, two sacks of rice on my butt, and having watermelons for ankles, I’m ready to deliver this kid. And forget about trying to contain these cantaloupes in a bra. Seriously, I don’t know when I turned into a fruit stand.”

  “You look great. Very motherly.”

  “And motherly is code for being built like an offensive lineman.”

  The desk phone rang and Ainslie gave it to Melanie. “Somebody needs to be seen in the ER.”

  Melanie tried not to whine. “Now?”