Page 11 of Talk Story

His reply came: Come back to the store. Mom just found out something about Chang. Need to tell you in person.

What about Officer Peahi? She’s given me permission to call her Malia and almost cracked a smile. Next thing you know, we’ll be besties.

You’ll charm her yet. Meanwhile . . . just K & K for the moment.

Okay, but . . . can’t you just text it? I wanted to go home after this.

Three dots pulsed: No. Not this time.

My stomach tightened. “This can’t be good,” I muttered. Tiki let out a mew of agreement.

Keone met me at the porch of the general store. The parking lot was now empty; clearly the Heritage Garden community “after-party” discussion was over.

Whatever Ilima had passed on to Keone had caused a concerned expression; he seemed to be adjusting to some news.

“Walk with me?” he nodded toward the beach across the street from the store.

“Sure. Just what I need. So frustrating that we didn’t get what Tiki had found at the garden.”

“Wasn’t good news here, either.”

The parking lot smelled of fresh asphalt and rain as we crossed it; I stepped right into the puddles in my precious size 11 Nikes, trying to rinse the red Hawaii mud from the garden off their soles.

The new asphalt the town had received from Chang Development as a “goodwill gesture” gleamed in the late afternoon light. Ohia’s biggest infrastructure project so far, the parking lot paving had been a serious need and a running joke since I’d arrived, and it had finally become a reality.

Crossing the two-lane Hana Highway, the beach stretched in both directions, waves soughing at the shore on a receding tide. We fell into step on the sand, Tiki nosing along the edge of greenery rimming the beach as if she’d soon discover another clue.

“Pua stopped by the store on her way home after she closed the post office and brought Mom a couple of letters she said seemed important. Mom opened them and showed me,” Keone said. “First off, she had received a copy of Chang Development’s corporate filings. She’d had her attorney in Kahului pull them when Victor Chang approached her with his plan for Sacred Valley. Here’s the thing: Chang’s company is registered out of Honolulu, but the original incorporation documents list the same address as the Big Island Chang family’s property management arm.”

I stopped and turned to face him. “Mr. K. Sweet Buns. My hunk o’ pilot burnin’ love. Are you telling me Victor Chang is connected to Pua’s organized crime family?”

“Mom’s been asking around. She thinks he’s Pua’s cousin. Her uncle Raymond Junior’s son. He had a falling-out with the family years ago, apparently, and went his own direction in development. Doesn’t keep in touch with anyone, including Pua, from all the gossip reports.”

“Maybe that means his company is legit. Not laundering money for gangsters like that other outfit that tried to develop New Ohia.”

“Maybe.” But Keone’s mouth was tight.

I thought of Pua staying behind at the post office while the rest of us had gone to the community meeting—her instinct to hold the fort, as always, but also the way she’d said ‘family is family’ when I’d mentioned the Chang name in passing that morning.

I’d let it go but I shouldn’t have. I could never forget she was a Chang; she couldn’t either.

“Does Pua know about all this?” I asked.

“Unknown. She dropped the mail and left. Mom wants to find out.” Keone’s jaw set. “And there was one more thing. Santos.”

“David Santos?” My eyebrows went up. “The main perp from that land scandal six months ago? He’s supposed to be in custody awaiting trial.”

“He posted bail two weeks ago. Kept it low-profile.” Keone glanced at the store, then at me. “The other letter Pua dropped off came from Santos’s attorney, claiming the new administration, aka Mom and her office, have been ‘conducting a politically motivated campaign’ against their client.” Keone bit off each word in a measured way. “The letter said they were monitoring the mayor’s conduct closely and would file suit against her personally should she take any action against Santos—or even raise any questions about him or his activities.”

The wave that crashed on the sand at that moment sounded like a curse word exhaled by the sea.

“Let’s recap.” I put my hands on my hips. “That swine David Santos is out and watching your mother’s administration and her personally. Skeevy developer Victor Chang is potentially connected to Pua’s crime family. And it’s possible that both of these bozos have reason to want Sacred Valley cleared of any cultural protections.”

“That’s about the shape of it,” Keone said. “They could be in cahoots.”

“Dude. You said ‘cahoots.’ How old are you?” I poked him in the rock-hard abs, trying to lighten the moment. “We’ve been hanging out with geriatrics too long.”

“You mean our wise elders.” He poked me right back. “And you called me ‘dude.’ And used ‘bozos’ in a sentence.”