The Bone Field by Debra Bokur (the best ebook reader for android .txt) 📗

“Yes. You’ll follow the Olinda Road for about three-quarters of a mile, and his house will be on your left. White, I believe. But you can hardly miss it. There is a short driveway with a mailbox shaped like a large pineapple.”

Kali started. “Did you say a pineapple?”

“Yes, very garishly colored if you ask me. But since you didn’t, I’ll keep my opinion to myself.” Her eyes twinkled.

Kali said nothing, but her mind raced. “Well, thank you,” she finally mustered. “And thank you for letting me look through the kaleidoscope. I’ll have to come back soon.” She hesitated. “The stars—are they for sale?”

“Not the ones already hanging,” said the woman. “But there are more. You can choose your own.” She walked behind a counter where an old cash register sat, bending slightly to lift a square wicker basket from a lower shelf.

Kali moved closer, drawn by the small shiny glass stars visible inside, each fitted with a long piece of clear fishing line.

“Feel free to look through them,” said the woman. “See which one wants to be yours.”

Kali reached in, gently lifting a blue star, turning it over, then replacing it. She looked back into the basket. Each star was between an inch and an inch-and-a-half across. The hues were subtle, running the full range of the rainbow. Her eye caught a star that seemed to be made from a pale green glass that grew slightly more intense at each of its points, but was nearly clear in the center. She held it up to the light, delighted by the color.

“This one,” she said with confidence. She glanced toward the shelf and the row of stuffed animals. “And that small stuffed pony. The white one with the blue polka dots and the brown tail, please.”

The woman smiled. “Children?”

Kali hesitated. “Yes, but not mine.”

“Well, someone will be pleased.”

Kali handed the star to the woman.

“Would you like me to wrap this for you so that it doesn’t become chipped?” the woman asked.

Kali shook her head. She reached into her bag, pulling out a cloth wallet. “That won’t be necessary,” she said, placing a twenty dollar bill on the counter.

The woman counted out some change, and placed it on the counter next to the stuffed horse and the pale green star. As Kali moved her purchases to her bag, the woman met her eyes. “I hope this star shines happy light on you,” she said. “And the little horse brings a smile to someone’s face.”

“Thank you,” said Kali, pleased. She looked up at the woman, a sudden thought occurring. “You know, while I’m here, I’d like to show you something.” She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her images until she came to one of the little anchor, then held it out so the woman had a clear view. “Have you ever seen anything like this? It’s about half the size of these small stars.”

The woman took the phone and looked closely at the image. “Hmmm,” she murmured. “Yes, I have seen something like this, but it was a while ago. It’s an anchor, yes?”

Kali nodded.

“Well, we do live on an island. Chances are I saw it on a sign or a bumper sticker.” She handed Kali’s phone back to her. “Maybe a shop selling jewelry might know? It would make a pretty pendant if there was a chain or a cord attached to the little hole.”

Kali put the phone back into her bag. “Yes, it would. Thanks for looking.” She left, walking quickly across the porch and down the steps to her parking spot. She started the engine of the Jeep, but before she pulled away, she hung the little star from her rearview mirror, where it immediately caught the sun.

* * *

The road, true to its nickname, ran upwards, twisting as it went. After a half mile, Kali began watching the left side, slowing as the pineapple mailbox came into view. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see, but the mailbox was hardly a duplicate of the pineapple found resting on the dead man’s shoulders. Instead, it was a kitschy, heavy-duty plastic monstrosity positioned on its side on top of a short post. The lid resembled the green, spiky crown of the fruit, and could be pulled open to insert or remove mail. Kali couldn’t help but think that whoever it was that delivered the mail here must hate having to open the prickly lid.

She parked in the driveway and sat for a moment, allowing anyone inside to take note that company had arrived. She had deliberately not called ahead, but had learned that too much surprise could sometimes be a bad thing. Then there was a brief movement in the front window of the house, and a curtain pulled back to give someone inside a better view of the Jeep. Kali opened the door and slid from the seat, her bag looped over one shoulder. She walked slowly up the short length of the dirt driveway to the front door. By the time she reached it, it was open, and a heavy man in an old pair of trousers and a stretched-out T-shirt was standing in the frame, watching her.

“Aloha,” she called, her voice friendly.

“Aloha maybe,” the man said, his voice neutral. “If you’re here to raise money, beg for money, or sell me something for money, you can leave and take your aloha with you.”

“None of those things,” Kali answered, displaying her badge. “I’m with the Maui Police Department. Detective Kali Mhoe. You’re Manuel Raso, yes? If you have some spare time, I wanted to ask you about the old pineapple plantation on Lna‘i.”

He nodded in affirmation, but looked surprised all the same. Kali watched the expression on his face change from one of caution to mild interest. From what little she’d been able to find out about him, he hadn’t worked steadily since Shandling Fruit had ceased production, and was now well into his early seventies. She’d