Chapter 17

The next morning,Aunt Fae drove me to Maui Memorial Medical Center. She was a bit apprehensive about tackling Sharkey's tech-heavy cockpit, but she did just fine as I rested beside her with my seat fully reclined. I'd improved enough not to have to lie in back, but I still grimaced with every jolt along the way.

The verdict was two small rib fractures and extensive bruising on my left side, and a contusion on my head but no concussion.

I wasn't blessed with the grace of a ballerina, but I wasn't a complete klutz, either. The rock stoop outside the shack was flat and, more importantly, its surface was well-known to me. It didn't make any sense that I'd just toppled over.

But I kept my thoughts on this to myself. As ridiculous as it sounded that I'd simply taken a tumble, it sounded even more absurd to accuse someone of pushing me. I had no basis for the allegation, and no idea of a possible perpetrator or motive.

The good news, if you could call it that, was that doctor's orders banned me from serving as postmaster for the next week or so. Extra help was sent to Pua from the main office in Kahului as I was under orders to do "no bending or lifting."

That meant I could spend a bit more time and effort checking into what happened out at the hermit's place.

I started by calling Doug Beachum. "Hey, Doug. How's your route treating you?"

"I don't want to talk about that girl," he said, ignoring my attempt at breaking the ice.

"I do. And I'd like to meet you in person."

"Why? I told everything I know to the cops. And they made me feel like some kind of criminal. Now I'm not sure what I saw."

"Don't feel bad, Doug. I'm much more at fault than you are. I actually went out there and confronted the guy. While I was there, I saw a pair of little girl's sandals. I believe your original story, Doug."

He was silent, so I went on. "I don't think anything you did or didn't do would've made a difference. But I'm trying to figure out what happened. And talking to you would be a big help."

In the end, Doug Beachum agreed to let me buy him lunch at Bruddah Hutt's in Hana. When he showed up, Doug got out of his truck wearing the infamous muddy brown UPS uniform, complete with knee-length shorts that stretched across his thighs. Although he was a big guy, he seemed fit and moved well, reminding me of a sumo wrestler.

I'd alerted Doug to my height and black pants, white polo shirt ensemble, so it didn't take him long to pick me out of the line waiting to order.

"Hey, Kat," he said, shooting me the local pinky-thumb shaka greeting.

I tried one in return; he smiled for the first time. "What can I get you?" I asked.

"I'll just have a bowl of saimin. And ice water." He patted his rotund middle and explained he'd made a New Year's Resolution to drop a few pounds and, so far, he'd pretty much kept to it.

I ordered our food. I got myself a katsu chicken salad and a canned lilikoi drink. I didn't need the calories either, but I figured a little sugar in my veins might make the conversation we were about to have feel a bit more tolerable. And besides, I was on the "injured reserve" list.

When I brought the food to the table, we made small talk for a couple of minutes.

"You wanted to talk to me about that girl out in the jungle, right?" he said, getting back on task as he slurped his saimin.

"Just more of a confirmation talk." I filled him in on my brief encounter with the hermit and then my shock at what he'd done early the following morning. Then I gave him a very brief description of the destruction I'd witnessed at the explosion site after my trip out there.

Doug pushed aside his Styrofoam container of saimin and pair of wooden chopsticks; he appeared as shocked and remorseful as I felt.

"I didn't want to get involved," he said. "The cops made it sound like I'd done something wrong, not reporting it. So, I told them I wasn't sure what I saw. I didn't want to get caught in the middle."

I waited. My training in interrogation techniques kicked in. Don't ask another question until you've allowed enough time for the interviewee to finish their thought.

Doug went on, "I mean, I am sure. I'm, like, a thousand percent sure. But what good does that do now?"

"Can you describe the girl you saw?" I took out a pad and pencil. "I'd like to try to sketch her face, with your help."

He closed his eyes. "Okay. Um, she had dark hair, I guess. I couldn't see how long it was, but it was straight, not curly. She appeared to be school age. You know, like maybe third or fourth grade. I don't know kids' ages exactly, but I have a keiki niece who's nine and she seemed to be about the same size as her."

"Anything else?" I sketched quickly. "Was her hair in bangs, or hanging down?"

He shut his eyes again. "Down. Beside her face. No bangs. Past her shoulders."

"Were her eyes round, or more Asian in shape?"

"Round."

I scribbled more. I wasn't a good artist, but I'd taken a class on interviewing witnesses this way and hopefully, his memory could be jogged further. "And her skin tone? Was she white, or mixed, or . . ."

"Mixed, I think. It was shaded in there but she wasn't super pale."

"See, you know more than you thought." I held up the drawing. "What do you think?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. Her eyes were smaller than that. Closer together."

I erased and redid them. "What about her mouth?"

"Not smiling. Lips were . . . medium?"

I tried an interpretation of that.

"She's dead, right?" he said suddenly.

"We don't know," I said. "Right now, no one's searching for her because you changed your story and my story of the slippers wasn't enough . . . and that bomb blew up any evidence."

He grimaced. "Then why does any of this matter?"

"Everyone deserves to be accounted for. Regardless of the circumstances, it's important to get justice for victims. Even if this girl is dead, we need to find out who she was."

"Okay," he said. "I get it. I do. I feel really bad. I'll tell the cops the truth if they ask me again."

"That's good, Doug. That might make a big difference." I forced myself to pat his hand, comforting him. "I'll let them know. This is important; it could make a difference in whether they keep trying to find her or not."

"If you discover anything, would you let me know?"

"Of course I will, Doug. We'll both feel better if I do."