by
“But the weather forecast is for virtually no wind for the next two or three days,” Kay was saying to Sid who was still shaking his head emphatically. *** It was just about the time of day when Sid and Kay were having their argument about the boat trip. Sid knew he was losing, and had actually become half convinced a day on a fancy yacht would not be terribly unpleasant. Still, he felt an additional show of resistance and reluctance was in order and wouldn’t hurt. The reminder of this concession could become a handy weapon in some future battle when Kay proposed something he genuinely did not want to do.
Born and raised in landlocked upstate New York, Sid’s idea of a yacht when he had been growing up was based on what he had seen on television of the Onassis ship. Something just short of an ocean liner was what he had expected, when he had first come to Hawaii and a friend had invited him out for a morning of fishing on his “yacht.” The craft turned out to be considerably smaller than the cramped front room in Sid’s apartment. That was when he realized the word “yacht,” as applied to something that would float, really had the same meaning as “giant size” when applied to a bottle of catsup. Anything larger than a dinghy was a yacht in the mind of its proud owner. *** From the shelter of the afterdeck, the cruise to Waipa Falls was a twenty minute segment from a Hawaii Visitors Bureau video. The water was glasslike and a deep blue. Closer to shore, the sea turned to a bright, blue-green breaking into a low white froth as it approached the island. The shore, itself—as the Jomark glided northwards—changed from white sands, to black, to broken piles of lava rock, and it finally became high bluffs, stretching as much as two and three hundred feet toward the blue, blue sky with its scattered puffs of white clouds. Coconut palms clustered in sheltered coves.
Chapter 1
“I’ve heard it all before,” he said in reply. “It’s supposed to be dead calm out there and then, after a half-hour out, the squalls come up and the boat is bobbing around like a loose net float. My ancestors lived for thousands of years without ever even seeing the ocean, much less going out on it, and something inside of me tells me I just don’t belong out there.”
Sid punctuated his speech of protest by picking up the latest newsmagazine and flopping down on the living room couch, adding, “So I’ll settle for looking out at the Pacific from the front room of our new house, just as soon as it’s finished.”
Kay and Sid were two of the attorneys in the firm of Smith, Chu, Yoshinobu and Correa. Quality Smith was the senior partner and founder. Qual had come to Elima, one of the islands in the Hawaiian chain, some nine years earlier and had established a successful practice devoted entirely to criminal defense. So successful had the practice become he was soon looking for a partner. Sidney Chu joined him not long afterwards, and then Keiko (Kay) Yoshinobu became part of the firm ten months later. Only recently a fourth member, Laura Correa, had been added.
The attorneys worked well together. Qual, a pleasant looking haole in his middle forties, had a cautious approach to the law. Both Sid and Kay were more adventurous, and their eagerness to innovate was the right compliment to Qual’s warier temperament. Sid was a handsome Chinese in his early thirties whose legal talents expressed themselves especially well in the courtroom.
A tall–almost as tall as Sid–dark skinned and strikingly attractive Japanese, Kay was frequently mistaken for someone with native Hawaiian ancestry. She had come to the firm shortly after passing her bar exam and putting in a stint as a law clerk at a boringly plush Honolulu attorneys firm, a firm she had thoroughly disliked. Qual had soon recognized attributes in Kay going beyond her physical appearance. After the first month of Kay’s work with the firm, he had said to Sid, “She’s a jewel. I’ve never seen anyone else get to the heart of a legal matter more quickly than she does.”
All three of them were enthusiastic about the newest member of the firm. Laura was short, slender, dark and Portuguese. She was a tireless worker. Even though she was doing more than her share of work on her own initiative, and was fully appreciated by the others, she still sold herself short. Kay was astonished one day to discover Laura badly underrated herself generally and her physical appearance in particular. Kay had chided her about her self image, saying, “Lucky for you the men don’t see you the way you see yourself. Why, if I’d had had as many men after me when I first got here, as you have after you right now, I’d have figured I looked like a Victoria’s Secret model. Leilani says we should hire a phone operator just to handle your calls from men.”
Laura acted suitably grateful for the reassurance, though she in fact took little comfort from it.
While the firm’s success was in large measure due to the competence of its personnel, much was also the result of Elima County’s rapid growth centering around the city of Napua where the attorneys practice was located. Qual had long ago pointed out how crime grew exponentially as population grew at a linear rate. He had not been far wrong. Even with the expanded staff, they were having a difficult time keeping up with the demands on their time. Leilani Pak, the supervisor of the growing office force, had just that morning been insisting the size of her crew was inadequate to meet the needs of the busy attorneys.
Leilani had been hired by Qual on the day he had opened the office. The middle-aged, heavy-set Hawaiian woman, with a penchant for colorful muumuus, had soon become indispensable. When she was not concerned about the office personnel, whom she managed with an iron and efficient hand, she was giving one or the other of the attorneys unsolicited but difficult to ignore advice about how they should conduct their personal lives.
To Leilani’s disappointment she had, early on, recognized Qual had no interest in women, but she had quickly reconciled herself to that fact. It had been more difficult for her to accept how his relationship to Craig Thomas was a permanent one. After Craig and Qual had set up housekeeping a half-block away from the firm, and when Craig’s frequent visits to the office proved him to be a friendly and personable individual, Leilani bowed to the inevitable. She soon shifted her concerns to Kay and Sid, who had rapidly built up a love-hate relationship after Kay joined the firm.
Leilani was quick to take credit for the marriage which had finally ended the more vociferous quarrels between the two. So now she was concentrating her efforts on Laura Correa. John Pak, Leilani’s
patient husband, was treated regularly to Leilani’s appraisal of the new attorney and her social life.
“Laura’s just acting like a high school kid with a different date every night. It’s not as though she isn’t doing her share of the work. Qual says he’s never seen a harder worker, which is part of the problem. She can’t do that and keep going on burning the candle at both ends.” As though to emphasize what she had said, Leilani speared the last piece of Spam on the platter.
“She’s just going to have to decide soon whether it’s going to be Bill Kuroyama or Emil Bautista. Now Bill makes a lot of money in those divorce cases he handles, but Emil is the county’s prosecuting attorney, after all. I like both of them. I know it’s hard to choose, but Laura had better make up her mind soon. She could end up losing out altogether.” John nodded absently as he held his rice bowl under his chin and fished out the last kernels with his chopsticks.
After all, I gave in on the boat excursion, he would say, even though I knew I wouldn’t care for it.
What he did not know at the time was how little he really would care for it.
“Samantha Dalquist gets even more seasick than you do, Sid. If it’s the least choppy, she’ll insist we come right back in. So you won’t have to worry about that. Besides, we aren’t going to go out more than a mile or so, just out to Cook Reef.”
Sid continued to grumble, but Kay could already detect a weakening of resistance. “I still don’t have it clear as to how we got involved in this brannigan in the first place.”
“Marshal Dalquist, that’s Samantha’s son, is appealing a DUI and doesn’t like the way his attorney’s handling the case. He talked to Jeff Bentley about it and Jeff recommended us. So we can combine business with pleasure.”
The reference to Jeff Bentley, a local corporation attorney, did little to improve Sid’s mood. An old flame of Kay’s, Jeff, despite his heavy drinking, was still an attractive male. Marriage had moderated Sid’s jealous nature, but had not entirely quenched the embers which occasionally stirred to life when fanned by the reminder of some earlier jealousy.
“Jeff?” Sid looked up sharply from the magazine which he had not really been trying to read.
“Relax, Sid,” Kay said with a laugh. “He’s not much competition for you these days. He’s had altogether too many years battling the bottle. Now his doctor tells him he has to cut back on the booze or he’ll soon be doing corporation law in a different jurisdiction. From what I hear, Jeff’s taken the advice to heart. Besides, he’s now dating Fe Cabanting, Elima’s Miss Filipino, so he won’t be showing much interest in me. She’s going to be along on the excursion, and if she looks anything at all like her photos, maybe I’d better rethink letting you go on the ride.”
It was Sid’s turn to laugh. “If money means anything to her, she’s not going to be much interested in Sidney Chu, not in that rich crowd. It seems to me the Dalquists have more money than they know what to with it.”
“This will be your chance to rub shoulders with some of Elima’s millionaires.”
“Is that supposed to be a selling point? If Marshal Dalquist is genuinely interested in making use of our services, why doesn’t he just pick up the phone and give us a call. Or don’t millionaires bother with phones.”
Kay shrugged. “I guess he just doesn’t work that way. When Jeff suggested us, Marshal said he wanted to meet us first, and this boat trip seemed to be a good opportunity. I don’t see how we can lose by accepting. After all, a day out on the ocean on the Forbes yacht is nothing to sneeze at. We’ll have that much out of the meeting, even if we don’t pick up a wealthy client.”
“Who else is going to be along?” Sid asked, putting down the magazine and sitting up.
Noting the skirmish was over and the outcome now clearly decided, Kay continued, knowing some ceremonial placation would still be necessary. “Well, the trip was Joanna Forbes’s idea in the first place, which works out rather nicely, since it also happens to be her yacht. As I said, her mother, Samantha, will be along–and Joanna’s brother, Marshal, naturally. Then, Jeff and Fe. Jeff was in a gossipy mood when he called me this morning. Joanna’s apparently been cutting a wide swath since her husband was killed in the helicopter accident. She’s really does have more money than she knows what to do with, and she’s getting help in figuring out what to do with it from a couple of beaus, who’ll both be along, too.”
“Two of them? On board at the same time? I’ve heard she was doing things in a big way, which does seem to be too much even for her. How big is the yacht anyway? Sounds like an awfully big crowd for a private boat. There has to be a crew besides.”
“Jeff says it will hold thirty or more, so don’t use that as an excuse. Even with the captain and the other crew members, there will still be only a dozen or so people.”
“I know. It will be so few they’ll have to take on ballast.”
“C’mon, Sid. This will be a day of rest in luxurious surroundings, drinks served by a Filipino steward, magnificent pupus at lunch time. We’ll be getting away from work and from all the headaches of house building. Just think, a whole day to do nothing but relax.”
Later, Sid remembered her last statement and did not allow Kay to forget it.
Chapter 2
So it came as a pleasant surprise to see the Jomark more closely approximated his childhood visions than his adult realities. His question now was, “How can a three man crew run something this size?”
Soon after the boat left the dock, Captain Silva had explained to him why it was possible. “State of the art computer controls do it,” he said. “I could get by with one man to handle the lines. That’s about the only thing we can’t do automatically these days. Even then, in an emergency I can use a remote and run the wheelhouse from the dock, so I could even do without a line man if I had to.”
Sid and Kay had arrived early and were greeted by a handsome and muscular young man identifying himself as Bart Cain, “A friend of Joanna’s.” Bart shook Sid’s hand firmly and vigorously, too firmly and too vigorously for Sid’s taste. Bart made no attempt to hide his appreciation of Kay, who was wearing short white shorts and a white halter which made her dark skin especially rich looking. Sid again felt the bubbling up of the old jealousy which still lingered beneath the surface, but it was drowned out by his amusement at the thought of what Bart’s reaction would be when he saw Kay in her abbreviated bikini. He’ll go ape, Sid thought.
Kay was as appreciative of the brawny Bart as he was of her. He must be able to take his pick of women, she thought, and she felt a flicker of arousal.
Bart was six-foot plus, with a heavy, clean-shaven, virile face and long black hair which had been carefully washed and blow dried. His dark brown eyes, under long black curly eyelashes, contained a curious mixture of boyish innocence and adult shrewdness. A soft, dark thatch on his broad chest added the finishing male touch to a thoroughly masculine figure. Barefooted, wearing a pair of black trunks, he reminded Kay of Michael Angelo’s David, which she had seen and admired the previous year when she and Sid had toured Europe. If I were Joanna, Kay decided, and if he were mine, he wouldn’t be allowed to run around loose.
The next arrivals were Jeffrey Bentley and Fe Cabanting. My God, Sid thought, Bart may not be the only one going ape on this cruise. Though immersed in his thoughts, he caught Kay looking at him with amusement. He had failed to realize his feelings were so obvious. They had definitely been bordering on the carnal.
Fe was wearing a short brown skirt and a white blouse which looked like a woman’s adaptation of a man’s shirt. It was open at the neck. A single small pearl on a silver chain dangled tantalizingly from her neck, just at the point where her breasts began to swell under the white blouse. Her waist was startlingly small, accentuated by a broad cloth belt which Sid recognized as being worn for just that purpose.
Tall for a Filipina, perhaps five-five or so, the lovely nineteen-year old had long, slender legs. The slim and graceful figure was topped by an equally lovely face. Both features had as a backdrop a mass of jet black hair hanging down to her waist. She wore no makeup and needed none. Her dark eyes actually fit the description of almond shaped, and seemed to go perfectly with the soft features she had inherited from her Malay ancestors. “I wonder if she’ll be wearing a string suit today?” Sid asked himself.
Amused as she was at Sid’s reaction to Fe, Kay was quick to notice Jeff had improved considerably since the last time she had seen him. He had slimmed down appreciably, had a healthy tan, and from the looks of his no longer nicotine stained fingers, she assumed he had given up the vice, or at least reduced his consumption of tobacco as well as alcohol. There were still bags under the eyes and the accumulated wrinkles from age—he was now in his mid-forties—and from the years of dissipation. Partly through conviction, and partly to give him strokes for his effort of will, Kay told him he was looking great.
“You’re looking better than ever yourself,” he replied, and the tone of his voice indicated he meant it. The tone also brought Sid back to earth. His face was impassive as he shook Jeff’s hand, but the deepened laugh wrinkles around Kay’s eyes told him she was again reading his mind.
Joanna Forbes, along with her mother, brother and another man, pulled up next to the yacht in a pearl grey Cadillac de Ville driven by a uniformed chauffeur. The driver quickly got out and dashed around the vehicle to open the door for Joanna, but a tall, blond man had already slipped out of the passenger seat and had done the honors. Kay was startled when she recognized her dentist, Dr. David Rouse. So that’s the other beau, she thought.
Samantha Dalquist, the matriarch of the family, was the first one aboard. Sam, as she insisted on being called, was in her sixties. Blue-grey haired, the older woman’s most striking feature was the pair of unblinking pale blue eyes peering out from behind elfin, grey-rimmed eyeglasses. Sid, who despite his efforts to avoid evaluating people on first encounter, found Sam and her eyes disconcerting and indecipherable. He immediately began to speculate concerning what she was really like. As she rambled on while talking to anyone handy, the eyes simply wandered in uncertain step with her chatter. When the chatter stopped, there was a piercing alertness to them, an indication Sam was not quite what she ordinarily appeared to be.
The daughter was a remarkable contrast to her mother. Joanna’s appearance spoke of inherited wealth and the self-confidence so often accompanying such an attribute. She was tall, slender, blonde, and carefully made up. To Sid, her clothes—white Turkish pants and a brilliantly colored blouse—seemed outlandish but also expensive. Kay, recognizing them as being designed specifically for Joanna, wondered how much of her own wardrobe could have been purchased for the price Joanna had paid for this one outfit. Kay also marveled at the face-lift which showed none of the tell-tale marks at the edge of the ears. Few would have mistaken Joanna for a teen-ager. Fewer still would have believed she was the mother of two grown children, the oldest a daughter in her late twenties.
The years had treated Joanna’s brother, Marshal, less kindly. Sid was to find out later that Marshal was two years younger than his sister. He looked twenty years older. His blue eyes were watery and red-rimmed. With a frame indicating a former athlete, Marshal showed no current signs of interest in any activities requiring energy. Sid, noticing Marshal’s hands had a perceptible shake, was convinced Marshal would have benefited from consultation with Jeff Bentley’s doctor.
Joanna’s two close attendants were remarkable in being so different. The tall, tanned and muscular Bart, with his heavy shock of black hair, stood out in the crowd. While Joanna exuded wealth, Bart radiated health. He was restless and overly helpful from the moment Sid and Kay had come aboard. Joanna’s arrival increased Bart’s activities by a factor of ten. He was everywhere: helping the crew with the lines; rushing up to the bridge to give the captain unneeded and unheeded advice on how to leave the shelter of the marina; coming back down the ladder in a couple of jumps and swinging on the handrails as he did so to offer drinks—which were not yet ready to be poured—to anyone willing to be distracted by him.
David Rouse, on the other hand, was quiet and withdrawn. If a stranger had been asked to guess David’s occupation, “dentist” would have been one of the top five choices. In his late forties, his thinning, fine blond hair was already disheveled by the mild breeze blowing off of Elima’s high, central ridge. Where Sid had developed an instant aversion to Bart, he found David Rouse to be a quite agreeable person. The one behavioral characteristic David shared with his rival was his attentiveness to Joanna. She, like a seventeenth century French queen, accepted the attention as though it were simply the nature of the world.
If David Rouse looked like a dentist, Manuel Silva looked even more like a sea captain. The fiftyish commander of the Jomark had a heavy head of gray hair crammed under a visored cap. Any director, casting for an actor to fill a seafaring role, could not have asked for a more convincing figure. The captain’s weathered face spoke of years at sea and exposure to the elements, while his brown eyes buried amidst wrinkles seemed designed to view distances across blue waters. An unlit pipe in his mouth completed the picture.
Sid slipped away from the crowd to watch Captain Silva skillfully maneuver the Jomark away from the slip and through the opening in the breakwater. The instrument panel would not have been out of place on a jumbo jet. As soon as they had moved out beyond the entrance buoys, the captain swung the ship around to follow the coast along a northerly route. Turning to Sid, after Bart had decided that with the boat safely outside the breakwater his services were no longer needed in the wheel house, the captain asked, “Surprised?”
Sid nodded. “I can’t believe how quiet it is. It’s just as quiet as a sailboat I was on once.”
“Two custom Rolls engines account for it. There are special dampeners on them to handle vibration. After the old scow of mine I had off of Midway, this is like riding in a feather bed.”
“How do you deal with all those instruments?” Sid asked, pointing to the flashing lights and monitors.
The captain laughed. “I know it looks like I’d need a college education to read them, but that’s mostly shibai. The builder’s representative flew out from Miami to show me how to sail her. Over drinks that night, he admitted the compass and the fathometer is about all we really need. If something goes wrong, the lights flash red and the computer screen tells me in plain English what’s happening. If we don’t listen, a female voice cuts in to tell us in so many words what has to be done. I’d never let Mrs. Forbes know it, but even Bart Cain could run this boat.”
“Where are we headed for?”
“Mrs. Forbes wants to pull up near Waipa Falls. It’s fairly sheltered along the cliff, though we shouldn’t be having much in the way of wind today anyway. We’ll probably sail around some along the coast and then anchor off of there during lunch. Then we’ll turn south and go out to Cook Reef. Bart want’s to do some scuba diving. I haven’t heard of anything planned beyond that. The weather should hold until the onshore breeze builds up later in the day.”
“Does it get rough then?” Sid was trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. Captain Silva’s mildly amused reaction indicated Sid’s efforts at concealment had been unsuccessful.
“As I said, there’s nothing heavy brewing.”
Pleased at the reassurance, Sid returned to the rear deck where the passengers had already chosen their favorite spots. Sid’s first impression of a friendly, relaxed group thoroughly enjoying a day’s outing was dispelled when he became aware of at least two points of tension. One, he had expected, the other came as a surprise.
Wherever the slope away from the beach was gentle enough, tropical vegetation covered the dark lava with a dense, rich green carpet. The warm, tropical sun, which had just come over the ridge, made each of the contrasting colors sharp and brilliant. A small school of flying fish broke the water almost under the boat’s prow, flashing their rainbow patterns in the light of the newly risen sun, while an eight-foot hammerhead kept pace with the boat for several miles.
Joanna, Sam and David were sitting under the canvas awning covering the forward half of the deck. Bart Cain had his own chair pulled up next to Joanna’s, but his nervous energy kept him in a constant state of movement. Sid expected him to start doing one-arm push-ups at any moment. Sam was filling the air with a description of her recent world cruise. David was nodding absently. Sid, sitting three chairs away, for a moment regretted the almost complete absence of engine noise, since it meant he could hear Sam’s monologue all too clearly. Seemingly long inured to the sound of her mother’s voice, Joanna was engrossed in a romance, though only a couple of chairs away from the garrulous Sam. Marshal had just gotten up and gone below.
Jeff, Fe and Kay were sunning themselves beyond the edge of the awning. Jeff was stretched out on his back, looking reasonably fit in his brief bathing trunks, and basking contentedly in the company of his two fellow sunbathers. Kay was wearing the bikini she had bought special for the occasion. Like most husbands, Sid wondered how two minuscule pieces of fabric could have cost so much.
Miss Filipinos costume made Kay look overdressed. Though fully appreciative, Sid said to himself, “If there’s an inverse correlation between prices and amount of material, then the two band-aids and a cork making up Fe’s apparel must have cost her a week’s pay.”
Kay lifted her head, shaded her eyes and called to Sid. “Put on your trunks—they’re in the pack—and join the sun worshippers. And would you pick up the other tube of sunscreen that’s in there?”
Sid got up to run the errand, having decided a little sun wouldn’t hurt. Turning to go down to the cabin where they had left their rucksack, he just avoided bumping into the young steward who he had overheard Joanna call Dolph. Dolph was taking orders for drinks and was standing next to Fe. Sid knew no Illocano, but he was certain the usually melodious language could sound so angry only if it was indeed spoken in anger. Even Jeff, realizing something was awry in the brief exchange, turned his head in their direction. By then, Dolph had moved along to Kay and was asking her what she would like to have to drink.
In spite of the sunglasses she was wearing, Sid could see annoyance on Fe’s face following the encounter. Or was it annoyance? Thinking back on it later, Sid was convinced it was a far stronger emotion.