Chapter 9

Dr. Hanson led us to a door in the side of the large aluminum barn, and we stepped inside. The place smelled antiseptic, with a faint odor of feline musk. Eyes in all shades gleamed at us from rows of cages lining the dimly lit walls. "We keep the illumination low in here to let our sick animals rest more easily."

The cages were generous. None of the felines were cramped in their quarters, where beds, food, water, and litter boxes were clearly available. Many of the animals sported bandages or other evidence of medical intervention.

Dr. Hanson pointed to a framed-in room at one end of the barn whose entry was constructed of clear plastic panels. "There's my surgery. I perform spay and neuters here, and other surgeries as needed."

"Wow. This is impressive. And a big commitment for you," I said. "Are you the only staffer?"

"We have volunteers, but I'm the founder of The Cat Shelter, and only full-time employee. I never married or had children, so the cats are my family," she said matter-of-factly. "Everything I do is for them."

She was, indeed, a committed Cat Person. I didn't need to scan the cages to know that neither Tiki nor Lady Sapphire were inside. This woman wouldn't lie to us.

I glanced at Keone and met his gaze. He gave a slight nod and lift of his chin to the door; he was ready to leave.

But someone had taken all those missing cats we were looking for, and maybe Dr. Hanson knew something more about who, or what, made things unsafe for cats on Maui. She'd implied as much. "Can we talk a little more? Maybe in your office? I want to hear more about these haters you referred to."

Dr. Hanson's office was the front room of the single-story, simple modular home on the property we'd seen upon entry. Her desk faced the window at the front of the building. A view of the island spread out below in a panorama patchwork of former sugar cane fields, pastureland, the city of Kahului, and azure blue ocean on either side of Maui's narrow waist.

"I could sit at your desk and look at that view all day," I said, wrenching my gaze away to make eye contact with The Cat Shelter's founder.

"I was fortunate enough to buy this piece of land back in the 1980s when prices were more reasonable." She took a seat in the office chair behind her desk that faced a couple of chairs. Keone had already taken one, so I took the other.

"You asked about cat haters," she said. "I keep a file on those I suspect of doing real harm to cats."

Keone's brows shot up and we exchanged a surprised glance. "Are the police aware of this?" he asked.

"The police don't care," she said. There was no mistaking the bitter note in her voice. "And the animal control division is connected to the Humane Society here on the island. The officials on staff do go visit and investigate allegations of animal abuse, but when they remove a pet from an owner, it goes to their facility."

"Okayyy," I said, drawing out the word. "I'm sure everyone is doing the best they can given the challenges. Where do these ‘haters' fit in?"

"They're conservationists. Bird People." She spat the phrase like it tasted bad. "They blame cats for what's happened to the endangered native birds in Hawaii, but that's a big oversimplification. The problems begin with mosquitoes, climate change, and other predators—as well as cats."

Dr. Hanson explained that the colorful nectar-feeding native birds of Hawaii had been forced to the tops of the mountains because of mosquito-borne avian malaria. "Introduced species, like the mynahs, cardinals and doves, are immune to the malaria."

Keone leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his brows drawn down. "We've talked with conservationists focusing on the endangered seabirds. They're aware of all the reasons the birds are in danger. They know cats are only one of several predators the birds have to contend with."

"But they blame cats more," she said. "I've heard someone in one of the conservation organizations is catching feral cats and shipping them away for medical research."

I sat back, startled. "This is news to us. Who did you hear this from?"

Dr. Hanson folded her lips into a tight line and shook her head. Her multicolored hair flew about like plumage; ironically her personal style was distinctly avian, not feline. "I don't want to get this person in trouble, and I don't have any proof. I shouldn't have said anything."

I leaned forward, imitating Keone's posture and his sincerity. "Listen. This is the first we've heard of such an evil thing, and if we could get to the bottom of this rumor—wouldn't that be good? We're professional investigators. We will do the work to get this stopped if it's happening, and you won't have to pay a dime or lose sleep over the possibility any longer."

Dr. Hanson's gaze darted to the phone resting on the desk beside her computer. "I need some time to think about that."

I knew when to leave once a seed was planted—clearly, she wanted to call whoever had passed the rumor on to her—and I had a device that would ensure I knew the content of that call.

Trouble was, I'd left the darned Stingray device at home. Dang it! Not that it worked with landlines, anyway.

"Well, we understand. But would you be willing to share your file of ‘haters' with us?"

"Not at this time." It was clear she'd shared all she was willing to.

I clapped my hands down on my thighs with an air of finality. "We'll wait to hear from you then. Let's go, Keone. We have other interviews to get to."

Mr. K gave me a subtle eye roll as he stood; the only stop we had left was a trip to the grocery store for baking supplies.

But I wanted it to seem like we had a lot of leads.

Which we didn't.

What we had was a ton of rumors about what might have happened to Lady and Tiki, and none of it was good.

We were headed out to Sharkey, getting ready to roll down to Kahului, when the work phone buzzed in my pocket.

We never got calls on the darned thing, but since we took the case, I'd been lugging it around. I removed it from my pocket to check—an unknown number. I didn't usually answer those, but I'd handed out a zillion flyers with the number on there and it behooved me to pick up. "Kat Smith with K K Investigations," I said crisply.

Keone gave me a lovey-dovey look. I'd only read about those in romance novels; now I knew what one looked like. Apparently, it was "hot" when I sounded competent and in charge, or maybe it was hearing me say "K K Investigations" that did it for him. Either way, Keone slid an arm around my waist and tried to distract me with a move that usually worked to rev my engine.

Unfortunately I couldn't enjoy it this time, because the voice on the phone, that of a gruff older man, spoke. "I have information about the missing cat."

I detached from Mr. K with a frown, holding up a finger. I walked to the car, opening the door, and sat down in the passenger seat. "You've called the right number to talk about the missing cat, sir. Can I get your name?"

Keone got in the driver's side but didn't start the engine as I made a gesture for a piece of paper and pen. He dug them out of the console and handed the items to me.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to tell you my name right now," the caller said.

"Okayyy," I said, much like I'd done with Dr. Hanson; it was super annoying to have people tease me with info and then not back it up. I put the phone on speaker so Keone could listen in. "What's this tip?"

"I saw a kid that works for that bird refuge in Hana driving around with a lot of chicken wire and lumber in his truck."

I exchanged a glance with Keone. That had to be Dave Finkelstein, a known Cat Hater. "Tell us more."

"There isn't anything more."

I rolled my eyes. "Sir. What makes that suspicious?"

"The kid lives in a rental with no place to build anything. He's up to something." And then the guy ended the call.

I narrowed my eyes at Keone. "I have a feeling a lot of our tips might be like that. Random stuff. Rumors and suspicions."

Keone turned on Sharkey with a push of the Start button. "Yeah, but in this case it's worth checking out, and we know who that ?kid' is. I already told you I thought Dave was worth watching."

"You did."

We headed down Haleakala Highway in thoughtful silence, until the work phone rang again. I answered it on speaker. "This is Kat Smith with K K Investigations."

"Hey, baby. I've seen you at the post office. I want to peel your clothes off like you were a tall sexy banana—"

I cut off the icky caller with a punch of my thumb. "Ew." I blocked the number.

"Banana, eh?" Keone slanted me a glance. "Interesting word choice."

Banana was our ‘safe word' for when we needed a relationship discussion. We hadn't had to use it in a good long while.

"Yeah, that is odd." But I didn't have time to get into it anymore when the phone rang again.

Once more, I picked up, greeted, and put the person on speaker. The caller, a woman, and a local resident by the cadence of her voice, refused to give her name. "I don't know if this is useful, but I saw two young girls at Ohia General Store buying cat food. Girls that don't have a cat."

I digested this for a moment. "Um. Maybe they have a cat now?"

"If they do, they shouldn't."

I thought of Sandy and Windy Nakasone, two girls who were often unsupervised due to family circumstances. The village of Ohia looked out for them as a community, but Windy had a crush on Mr. K, and had warned me off dating him. To no avail, obviously.

"Can you tell me the girls' ages? Names?"

"Never mind." The caller hung up.

Keone was the one to roll his eyes this time. "Ho, da humbug."

I loved it when he used Hawaiian creole dialect, also known as ‘pidgin.' "Yep. That was clear as mud. If this is what cops go through with tip lines . . ."

"We do have a little something to follow up on. I'll try to find out what Dave was up to if you find out about the mysterious girls buying cat food."

I knew the owner of Ohia General Store—Opal Pahinui. She and her husband were some of my closest friends, in fact. Surrogate parents, even. Opal would remember any girls buying cat food from her little mercantile, and we were overdue for a catch-up visit, anyway.

"I thought you'd like an excuse to visit Opal and Artie," Keone said, and twinkled his pretty brown eyes at me.

"And you'd be right." I batted my navy blues right back at him. "Good division of labor. K K Investigations is running great so far."

"Now if we could just solve our first case."

"Yep." That was sobering. We really weren't making much progress on finding Lady so far, let alone Tiki.

We eventually pulled up in front of Costco in downtown Kahului. I set up a voicemail on the work phone to screen the ridiculous calls we were getting, and then we grabbed a cart and plunged into the chaos of shopping at Maui's only mega superstore during the holiday season.