Frantically, I reached around inside and grabbed fistfuls of air. I stared stupidly into the beam of Chun’s flash. Maybe the whole thing had been a dream. I got up and hurried to the boathouse. The padlock was gone and the doors hung open dispiritedly. Chun came up behind me and played his light over the interior.
The dinghy was gone from the rafters, the oars and the barrel with its outboard motor were gone. Nothing was left except the pile of throw-nets in the corner. I knelt and lifted the slatted floorboards. The trap door was still in place anyway. I grasped the rope handle and heaved. The concrete well was filled with sea water. I threw off my coat, rolled up my sleeve and fished beneath the surface. I could have saved myself the trouble. I let the lid fall into place, rolled down my sleeve and picked up my coat.
“This makes it look like I made up the whole thing.”
“Not so good,” Chun admitted, and I noticed he moved away from me.
“You don’t have to use that tone,” I said.
Chun shrugged. “You admit fighting with Kahalawai; you admit planting the dope on him and you admit Miss Seccombe died in your presence. Norris has got some questions to answer about his daughter’s death, but you were in on that, too.”
“Would I have gone to all this trouble to attract attention to myself?”
Chun smiled. “You did.”
“Look,” I pleaded, “we’ve still got a chance if we play it out. At least we can go to Kent’s place and see what happens.”
“Whatever happens, can happen to me,” Chun said softly.
I grinned. “You hope I’m right or you’d be running me in instead of arguing. Plant Matsu outside while we go in. There’s only one way down from that place.”
Chun said: “Let’s go.”
We went back to the car and got in without explanations. Actually, it wasn’t until Chun gave Matsu the directions that I felt reassured about the remainder of what I laughingly call the best years of my life.
Kent’s garage was some thirty yards down the slope from the house. Matsu eased the car to a stop and cut the lights. We got out and Chun turned to Matsu.
“Stay out of sight and don’t come unless I call you personally. Anything funny happens, give us a horn.”
Matsu nodded and drifted away into the shadows. The rest of us trudged single file up to the house. As we reached the doorway, lights blazed and Walter Kent stood grinning in the entrance. “Welcome to the Pali House, Hawkshaw.” He looked at Norris in surprise. “Hello, Allan. Is this your party, too?”
Norris shook his head. “Don’t you know what it’s all about either?”
“I’m afraid I don’t.” Kent shook hands with MacDonald and looked at Chun. “I don’t believe I’ve met this gentleman.”
“His name is Chun,” I said. “Let’s go inside.”
The wide hallway led to a dropped living room running the width of the house. The ceiling-to-floor drapes were pulled back, revealing a solid window across the front of the room. The indirect lights were low and I had the feeling of walking out into the night as I entered the room. The window was like a huge mural with its high moon and millions of stars suspended in the velvet blue-blackness of the Pacific night.
I moved over to the big window with something like awe and looked down at the reflected starlight on the water. The ocean was barely stirring except directly below us where the breakers rolled in majestically but futilely, to spend themselves on the scattered rocks at the foot of the cliff.
Kent busied himself pouring drinks. “You’ll have to excuse the looks of the place,” he apologized. “I just got here myself.”
I looked around the room. There was nothing to apologize for. Fine Oriental rugs lay scattered on the koa wood floors. The furniture was low and comfortable. Richly bound books lined the walls and added a final touch of luxurious ease to the scene. Kent finished handing out the drinks and for a moment it was like the awkward silence at a party where the guests haven’t been introduced. Then light sprayed across the side windows and the rattle of gravel on the drive announced the arrival of another car. Everyone remained silent and I felt the tension begin to mount.
Footsteps sounded and Kent opened the door.
Jocko Vecelli came in warily, followed by a silent and watchful Ruiz. The big, moon-faced grinning Malo came in last. Kent greeted Jocko familiarly, nodded to Ruiz and Malo and led them into the living room. He looked at me ironically. “Have I any more guests coming?”.
I shook my head and watched the new arrivals. Jocko looked at me coldly and turned his attention to the rest. Ruiz fastened his little cobra-eyes on me with a noticeable lack of affection.
Malo beamed at me. “Hi, Mac. We been looking all over for you.”
Kent spoke to Vecelli. “What will you have to drink?”
Vecelli looked around. “You got any wine?”
Kent looked apologetic. “I have a little White Burgundy but it isn’t chilled. Would you prefer whiskey?”
“Burgundy.”
Kent turned to the others.
“Got rye?” Ruiz asked.
“Of course.”
“I’ll take rye.”
“Me too,” Malo grinned. “Make mine double. I’m big fellow.”
When they had their drinks, Vecelli raised his glass. Everybody drank and as if at a signal, the glasses were lowered and all eyes turned toward me. All but Ruiz. He was looking at Chun. “What’s the copper here for?” he demanded.
Kent turned to Chun. “Are you a policeman?”
“I am,” said Chun. “Let’s get on with it, Ford. Who’s who and what’s what?”
I faced the others and started in to stir up the most trouble in the shortest amount of time. “First,” I said, “I’ll begin by saying that everybody in this room with the exception of Lieutenant Chun is guilty of some criminal action, and I may add,” I said pleasantly, “that I don’t like any of you and I’m sure that your collective mothers bayed at the moon.”
There were several growls at this and Carter MacDonald spoke up. “Apparently, I am not alone in taking exception to your remarks, Mr. Ford. You have been a focal point of irritation ever since you arrived in the Islands. It may interest you to know that I’ve tried to persuade my client to dispense with your services before you involve him in any further trouble. I may also point out that your rather childish invective lays you open to libel charges.”
“We’ll begin with you,” I said coldly. “You are Norris’ business and legal adviser, aren’t you?”
“I have that honor.”
“Then I may point out,” I said ironically, “that when you O.K. a deal whereby Allan Norris rents out his property to a known gambler, you sure as hell are guilty of criminal behavior even if there’s no law against it. The fact that you’re too good a lawyer for anybody to be able to prove that you had knowledge of the gambling is beside the point. Everyone in Honolulu knows about the Hobron Club. That rent is just as much a part of the house take as the money Vecelli pockets.” I turned to Norris. “We won’t waste time talking about morals and ethics. My client, besides being guilty of criminal behavior, is guilty of actual law-breaking in withholding facts of a crime in the death of his daughter. Vecelli is guilty of running a gambling house and probably of bribing vice squad cops. Our host,” I grinned at Kent, “is able to furnish a layout like this at least in part from the rental of obscene books. The two stooges,” I nodded at Ruiz and Malo, “are guilty of assorted crimes including kidnapping and murder. Modesty forbids a listing of my own crimes,” I said shyly.