“She worked there. Obviously, she must have been there to work, and not evacuated in time.” My thoughts were flying wildly as I remembered Kainoa’s emotional collapse. Maybe he hadn’t just been crying about his coffee shop; maybe he’d found Charisse’s corpse.
I came back to the present, seeing Michael’s mouth moving.
“Sorry, what was that?” I asked.
“It’s your aunt. She wants you to go to her.” He gestured toward the kitchen. Still feeling disconnected, I returned to the kitchen, where for the first time I noticed my ancestor Harue Shimura’s framed face looking down from a small alter crammed over the door. A saucer with the offering of a tangerine sat on the shelf in front of the picture with a line of ants crawling up the wall toward it. I looked away from the picture and toward Margaret, who was hugging herself as if the room was not in the high seventies, but freezing.
“I should have picked up Braden from the station,” Margaret said. “Thanks for what you and Michael did.”
I looked at her tired face. “You couldn’t get away early, I know.”
“I didn’t even try to see if I could leave. I’ve had to leave work early so many times because of Braden. This time I wanted just a few more hours’ peace before I saw him.” She looked down, then into my eyes. “I could hear some of the talk out there, and we don’t need Michael’s money. I got money of my own, in a 401K. I can take it out early, and it should be enough-if the trial’s short.” She blinked her eyes, and I saw that she was starting to cry.
“Aunt Margaret, I know Braden’s had trouble in the past, but this time around, the basis for the charge is so weak. And it turns out he has an alibi for being in the mountains; he gathers rocks for somebody. It’s illegal, I know, but a misdemeanor’s a lot easier to face than a felony.”
“It’s my fault,” Margaret moaned softly. “If I stayed home, Braden couldn’t be going around with those people who keep getting him into trouble. I never heard of him working for anybody. He’s not supposed to have a job!”
“Braden mentioned that someone phoned this morning and asked him to work. Can we check the phone to figure out the caller?”
“Our phones don’t do that,” Margaret said. “Edwin said that it’s better to invest in the computer. Can’t you just ask Braden?”
She wanted me to do it. Clearly, Margaret had little authority over her son. “Unfortunately, Braden wouldn’t tell us. He said the boss threatened his life, if he said who was behind the operation.”
“That doesn’t sound like the kind from around here.” Margaret’s face was sorrowful. “But you know, things in Hawaii have changed.”
“Why don’t you and Edwin allow Braden to get a regular part-time job?”
Margaret sighed. “It may sound strange, but he wants the kids to break the mold of people here, to go farther than we did. To Edwin, that means stay away from hamburger shops and hotel jobs and all the places that keep the local people down. Courtney’s a good girl, she uses her time at home to study or read, but Braden’s always out. All this time, I thought he was at the beach. It figures he was making money, because he sure couldn’t afford all the surfing gear just on his allowance. So…I guess I want you to tell me…what did they say about him on TV?”
“Not much-certainly not his name. But they released the identity of the woman who died. It was Charisse De La Cruz.”
“Charisse De La Cruz? Oh my God, I’ve known her mother since my own small-kid time.”
“I met Charisse once at the coffee shop. I liked her.”
“You did, huh? Very pretty girl, but not very akamai.”
“Akamai?” The word sounded Japanese, but I didn’t know what it meant.
“Means smart in Hawaiian. Charisse, she loved to chatter, ever since she was a tiny girl. She goes with any person who smiles at her-some people say she’s easy, but I just thought she’s not too smart.”
“Her body was found near the coffee shop where she works. It’s not as if she ran off with someone.”
“What could Kainoa have been thinking, letting Charisse stay at the coffee shop during a fire?” Margaret shook his head.
“I don’t know that he did. He mentioned that he was there that afternoon, trying to build a firebreak. He didn’t mention that anyone was helping him.”
“Excuse me.” I turned at the sound of Michael’s voice. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but the lawyer’s here Mrs. Shimura, would you like to meet her?”
“Margaret, please. Yes, I’ll see her. And I want to tell you something first: don’t worry about guaranteeing our payment to the lawyer. I have the money.”
“That’s good to hear,” Michael said, a trifle uncertainly. “But the offer stands. The other thing I was wondering, Margaret, was whether you know Kainoa Stevens?”
“Of course. He and his family used to live close to Honokai Hale, but I think they’re in the homesteads now, more toward Makaha. He’s a good boy, used to take Braden surfing when he was just learning. Why?”
“He owns the coffee shop that burned.”
“Sure, I know that, but Kainoa wouldn’t have anything to do with setting a fire,” Margaret said. “Why would he destroy his own business?”
“The insurance…” Michael began.
“He’s not insured,” I said.
“How do you know that?” Margaret asked.
“I went running this morning over the Pierce fields to see what happened to the shop. I found Kainoa there, pretty upset.”
“Girl, that was stupid!” Margaret sucked in her breath. “Embers live a long time. A fire could have flashed up and trapped you.”
“I was perfectly OK. The only problem I encountered was when the land manager saw us.”
“Albert Rivera’s a bastard. You ask me, he’s the likeliest one set a fire.”
“Really? What’s wrong with him?” I asked my aunt, but Wally Nishimura came in and basically ordered Margaret out to meet the lawyer. We followed but, to my regret, Lisa Ping, an efficient-looking woman about a decade older than I, banned us from the conversation. It was just going to be Edwin, Margaret, and Braden. A privileged conversation, or whatever it was called.
As Michael and I were driving out of the neighborhood on Waialua Street, I looked at the digital clock on the dashboard. It was almost seven.
“Hungry?” Michael asked.
“I’m too depressed to eat anything. I’ll sit with you if you want to eat something, though.”
We cruised Farrington Highway into the heart of Kapolei, and Michael selected a seedy-looking fast food shop called L &L. Confidently, he ordered a starter of Spam musube, which turned out to be a sushi-like concoction of sticky rice and a thick slab of spam bound together by a narrow band of seaweed. Only in Hawaii, I thought to myself, as he followed that with a five-scoop plate: rice, chilli, macaroni salad, shrimp tempura and a deep-fried pork cutlet.
“Something’s missing there,” I said, sipping my water as I watched him sip enthusiastically from a Yoo-Hoo chocolate drink. “I know-fruits and veggies.”
“There are beans in the chilli, and doesn’t the seaweed count?”
“I meant fresh fruits and vegetables,” I chided.
“How about coconut cake? I remember the best version was at Zippy’s. We could walk over there now-could I tempt you to share a piece?”
“No thanks.”
When we left L &L, the evening air had cooled to a perfect temperature that I guessed was seventy-nine. The trade wind was blowing, making me think of how nice it would be to lie in bed with all the windows open.
“I’ll skip Zippy’s if I can have something else,” Michael said as we settled into the car.
“What?” I asked absently, and then he moved close to kiss me. Thinking about all that I could never really have, I pulled back.
“Is it the chilli?”
“No, it’s you and me.” As Michael’s face fell, I said, “Come on, think about it. What are we doing? This playing at dating is pointless. You don’t have the kind of life where you can even have a real girlfriend, let alone a contract employee-slash-girlfriend.”