Surfing Detective 02 - Wipeout

care.” He kept looking straight ahead.
    A few miles from Kahuku Hospital Corky suddenly glanced at me.
    “So where’s Maya?” he asked.
    When I told him she’d flown back to Maui assuming she would never see him again, Corky just shrugged. I had a feeling he was going to leave it that way.
    “You’re fortunate to be alive,” I said, truly curious about his dumb luck. “Why did Sun let you go?”
    “I told him where the stuff was hidden,” Corky explained.
    “I was just at the mission and the ice was gone.”
    Corky seemed to smile slightly. “I moved it to a locker at the “Y” before Maya and I split O‘ahu.”
    “So why go to all the trouble to bury a bogus map on Shipwreck Beach?”
    “To throw him off. Sun finally realized he could never find the ice without me. So I took him to the Y. He left with the bundle. I left with my life. Not because Sun is generous, but because I convinced him Maya would squeal if anything happened to me.”
    “Did you know Sun was also holding Summer?”
    “No, I didn’t know she was even here.” He took a deep breath and a hint of concern spread across his face. Maybe he did actually care. “I’d heard she hired someone to look for me and Maya, but I had no idea she came to Hawai‘i herself.”
    “I think DiCarlo may have brought her against her will. And now he’s dead.”
    “His blood splattered all over me when they shot him.” Corky shook his head.
    “You know it wasn’t an accident. Sun made an example of DiCarlo. He may have been killed entirely for your benefit.”
    Corky didn’t respond. When we pulled up to the emergency room, I let my Smith & Wesson rest in my lap.
    “Just go in. They’re expecting you.”
    Corky eyed the gun, then released his grip on the wheel and looked out the window. Finally he opened the door and let himself out.
    I watched the reluctant Californian unlash his orange board, cradle it under his arm, then step slowly into the emergency room. He looked back at me only once.

Twenty-Four

    Back on Maunakea Street I peeked in on the lei girls. No Leimomi.
Where was she?
    Upstairs in my office the red light on my answering machine was blinking. I pressed Play.
    “Mr. Cooke, this is Meyer Gold, investigator for Acme Life, calling about Charles Corky McDahl, the surfer who died at Waimea Bay last December. Acme has concluded its investigation and is prepared to settle the policy for Mrs. McDahl, who we understand has retained your services. But I’d like to compare notes with you before authorizing the check.”
    Ho!
Mr. Gold was in for a surprise.
    I knew who the next message was from even before I heard it.
    “Kai? Are you there? Please pick up the phone. Kai . . . ?“
    I lifted the receiver before her message ended and dialed Leimomi’s number.
    “Kai? Is that you?” She answered on the first ring.
“Finally.
Where have you been? I’ve called your office five times.” Leimomi’s tone wasn’t angry or depressed or even scolding. She just sounded happy to hear from me.
    “Sorry, Leimomi—really sorry—it was a case, the California surfer who wiped out at Waimea. The case is over now. I’ll be here for you—”
    “Kai, the most amazing thing has happened.” It was her turn to cut me off.
    “What?” I held my breath.
    “Daddy is getting out on parole. He’s coming home to Kaua‘i and I’m going to go there to meet him.”
    “Well . . . that’s great, Leimomi.” I was expecting news of her
condition.
“Did your father get out early?”
    “Yeah, he’s agreed to testify against the drug supplier who got him in trouble.”
    “I thought your father feared for his life.?”
    “He did, until the supplier got indicted. It just happened and now Daddy’s getting out.”
    “Wait a minute . . . , what’s the drug lord’s name?”
    “Moon or Star or something like that.”
    “Sun? Frank O. Sun?”
    “That’s him.”
    I suddenly recalled my phone message yesterday to Narco-Vice. Could Detective Tong have worked that fast?
    “Kai? Are you still there?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Anyway, Daddy and Mamma are getting back together. And that leads up to what’s so important I wanted to tell you. Kai, I’m sorry, but . . . but I’m not just going to Kaua‘i to visit, I’m going back for good. I’m moving home. I miss Daddy and Mamma, and I miss Kaua‘i. Honolulu is too big and busy for me—too many people, too much traffic, too much everything.”
    “Well . . . what about the baby? I mean, what do you