Page 28 of Talk Story

“That depends on who’s asking,” I said.

A slight smile. “Dr. Susanna Patel,” she said. “Cultural archaeology chair at the University of Hawaii, Manoa campus. I’ve been hoping to speak with you.”

“Anything you have to say, you can tell me in front of my friend.” I indicated Lei with my chin. “Sergeant Lei Texeira, Maui Police Department.”

“Ah. A cop. That might save us some time.” Patel blew out a breath. “Nainoa Emerson sent me. Before they took him.”

“Let’s go back to my office and talk story,” I said.

An ‘Iwa cried from somewhere above the valley, a harsh shriek; its call seemed like a summons from some otherworldly force. A bad omen.

8

The K & K shack in late evening had a smell when I opened its door; even with the two jalousie windows propped open, an odor of old wood and the coffee I’d made Lei earlier permeated the place. The geckos had gone elsewhere for the moment, but Miss Prissy, the cane spider who had claimed the upper corner above the filing cabinet, was watching as I threw the door wide to air it out.

We’d relocated our meeting with Dr. Patel to the shack to discuss what she had to tell us; she’d followed us from the junction in her rental vehicle. At Lei’s request, we’d stopped at my place in New Ohia, where I retrieved Hannah Chang’s journal and a pile of hastily constructed sandwiches made by Aunt Fae to feed our faces during the meeting. I also deposited Tiki inside the house with strict instructions that Aunt Fae keep her home for now. I found a second to text Keone, and he was on his way, too.

By the time Lei, myself, Dr. Patel, Officer Malia Peahi, and Keone gathered around our worktable in the shack, the space felt decidedly small. I handed out paper plates with a card dealer’s panache, plunked down a roll of paper towels, and set the Tupperware container of sandwiches in the middle of the table.

“Okay. I’ve waited long enough,” Lei rapped out. “Spill, Dr. Patel. Who are you? How did you know we were going to be in the Valley? And who took Dr. Emerson?”

“Let me back up a little,” Dr. Patel said. “Nainoa contacted me on Oahu three weeks ago. I’ve worked with him before; we coauthored a paper on the Kīpahulu petroglyph complex in 2019. He told me he’d found a site with significant cultural archaeology and a potential land rights dimension in East Maui, and he wanted a second set of eyes before he went to the Historic Preservation Division with his findings. He was being—careful.” She said ‘careful’ the same way Pali had, in regard to Dr. Emerson. “Nainoa knew there were development interests watching the valley. He didn’t want to trigger backlash before the documentation was solid.”

“So he brought you in as backup,” I said.

“As documentation backup, specifically. I have HPD Section 6 clearance, which means I can produce archaeological assessments that hold up in federal court. Nainoa needed that. He has a potential complication with the Emerson name in this context; he was worried about conflict of interest challenges to his findings.”

I noted that she’d said Emerson’s name and his family in the same sentence; Lei was ahead of me with the question. “Is Dr. Emerson related to the well-known missionary family?”

“Yes. But he’s built his career in opposition to everything that family represents in terms of land acquisition.” Her tone was dry. “Though that’s hard to prove, which is the sort of thing opposing counsel uses to throw out an expert’s findings. He was protecting our future case by bringing me in.”

“Did he want you to be a part of the official documentation and assessment of the Awawakapu petroglyphs?” Keone asked.

“Yes. It’s going to be my name at the top of the report. I’ve been working on that assessment from his notes and photos; I’ve been in the valley four times in the past week—always early morning. Taking different approaches and vehicles.” She glanced at Lei. “I found out you went to Awawakapu from Officer Peahi here; I called Hana PD with my concern about Nainoa’s whereabouts. She knew you had gone in this afternoon, and I had no way to contact you.” Her full lips pulled into an unhappy grimace. “Tuesday, he told me he’d found something in the library archives that confirmed the land ownership history. Records from the 1880s that documented the same families as the cave inscriptions. He was excited. That was the last time I spoke with him. That’s when he told me about you two helping his protégé Pali with the development situation.” She nodded at Keone and me, before her gaze went to the back window, toward the Valley, where Pali was. “He said if anything happened to him, I should find the postmaster of Ohia. He said, and I’m quoting: ‘She lands in the middle of things, but the things usually end up better for it.’”

Keone and Lei smiled; I chose to take it as a compliment.

“When we met up, you said he was taken,” Lei said. “You said it like you knew something. Who took him?”

Dr. Patel ducked her head, abashed; the overhead light gleamed on her raven black ponytail. “That I don’t know. Specifically.”

“What about non-specifically?” Malia said.

“I suspect it was someone connected with the development. Victor Chang, or someone he’s working with.”

“We need more than that. How about some proof?” Lei snapped.

Things were getting a little heated; people were hangry.

“Seems like Dr. Patel was trying to get us to pay attention and take her seriously.” I got up and pulled a six-pack of Longboard Island Lager out of the tiny fridge. “Let’s take a moment, chill, and eat something. Then pool what we know and see if anything new occurs.”

I handed around sweating bottles of beer; only Malia refused one. Aunt Fae’s egg salad and ham sandwiches (surprisingly delicious) were rapidly consumed, then we cleared the table and spread the survey maps Keone had pulled and Dr. Patel’s documentation of the petroglyphs, alongside Hannah Chang’s journal and some of Pali’s cave photographs.

“Walk us through the journal,” Lei said to me. “Let’s see how this archive fits in with what’s going on currently.”

I opened Hannah Chang’s journal to the first pages Pearl had shown me, and we went through the entries together, noting Hannah’s careful handwriting in both Hawaiian and English, the account of her brother Ikaika’s death in 1961, the documentation he’d been gathering about the land transfers of the overthrow period, the names of the families whose holdings had been quietly absorbed in the years following Hawaii’s annexation.

“Ikaika Moku,” Lei read. “So according to this family tree, he was Pali’s great-uncle.”