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

She knocked, and the door opened slowly. Abigail was wearing an apron of faded, flowery cotton that had a narrow bib across the top, held up by two strips of fabric that tied behind her neck. There was a row of drooping ruffles adorning the bib, with an identical row along the hem of the skirt. Kali couldn’t tell if the apron was handmade, or if it was a new one in a retro, 1950s style, but the effect was the same: a sense that the person wearing it wasn’t being ironic, but was simply caught up in a story from the past they’d never actually lived through. Beneath the apron, she wore a now-familiar blue cotton skirt that brushed her ankles.

Kali studied Abigail carefully before she spoke. Her mostly dark blond hair was streaked with gray, pulled back severely from her face, causing the skin to draw away from the corners of her eyes. It looked uncomfortable. She struck Kali as being deeply weary. Perhaps, considered Kali, the apron merely indicated an intense, all-night baking session that had resulted in a lack of sleep.

“Abigail Waters?”

“Yes, that’s me,” said the woman. Her voice was soft, unpretentious. “And you are . . . ?

“Detective Kali Mhoe, Maui Police Department.” Kali removed a card from her wallet and handed it to Abigail. “Do you have a few minutes to spare?”

The woman looked slightly confused.

“You’re here to see me?”

“Yes, I have a few questions concerning a current investigation. I thought you might be able to help. I’ve already had a chat with your father, and he suggested I stop by to speak with you before I left.”

The woman hesitated, then stepped back, away from the door.

“If you spoke to my father, then I suppose that would be okay,” she said, glancing nervously in the direction of Abraham’s house. She turned and led the way into a dimly lit kitchen area, gesturing to a round wooden breakfast table. “We can sit here if you don’t mind. I haven’t vacuumed the parlor yet.”

Kali made a mental note of the word “parlor.” It struck her as old-fashioned, out of place. It was a word her grandmother might have used.

“Thank you.” She chose a chair that would allow her to see the other woman’s face as clearly as possible. Abigail sat down opposite her, her back straight, her hands folded primly in her lap. Kali glanced around the room. It felt worn and tired, as though reflecting Abigail’s lack of energy.

“I understand that you used to work in the pineapple fields on Lna‘i.”

The woman looked startled. “My goodness. That was a very long time ago,” she said. She looked away, slightly past Kali, as if reaching back into the past. She placed Kali’s card on the table. “I was just a girl then.”

“You were a child when your family moved to Maui and you began working there, correct?”

“Well, not really working. I accompanied my mother to the plantation at first, and then later, when I was a little older, I had a part-time job. At first it was just on the weekends, and sometimes after classes if I was needed.”

“You went to the Bible school your father ran?”

“Yes.”

“And at the plantation, you worked outdoors, in the fields?”

Abigail nodded.

“In the beginning I did. Later, I worked on the production line, sorting fruit by grade.” She looked down at her hands and sighed. “All these old scars on my hands are from handling the fruit.” She laughed suddenly, the sound more rueful than joyful. “To this day, I can’t stand the smell or taste of pineapple.”

Kali smiled, noting the lack of a wedding ring on the woman’s hand. “It’s not my favorite fruit, either,” she said. “But the reason I’m here is to find out if you remember anyone suddenly going missing during the time you worked for the pineapple company.”

The woman looked at her, befuddled. She frowned at Kali. “I’m not sure I understand. Missing?”

“Suddenly not showing up for work. Never coming back.”

Abigail thought for a moment. “Well, a lot of people took the job and then decided it was too much and left after just a few days or a few weeks. They didn’t always say goodbye. Some of them left without getting paid for the short amount of time they actually did work. And there was a lot of casual day labor. You might see someone every day for month, then never see them again.”

“Even on an island as small as Lna‘i?”

“Who’s to say they were all from Lna‘i? I know that at least some of them worked on Maui, in the sugar cane fields. They’d get tired of one place and go to another for a while.”

Kali felt discouraged, already aware of the transient nature of the workforce in Hawai‘i’s agricultural world. She took a deep breath, then stood up. “Well, thank you for your time.” She tried to smile encouragingly. “I may need to speak to you again at some point. Is this the best place to find you?”

Abigail nodded, then stood up as well. Kali reached the doorway, then turned back in afterthought. “Do you live here in the cottage with your son and husband?”

The other woman stared back. “With my son, yes, though he spends more and more time at my father’s home, in order to help him.”

“And your husband?” asked Kali, persisting.

“I have no earthly husband. I am married to the church,” said Abigail, as though this information should have been self-explanatory.

With an effort, Kali kept her voice neutral. “I see. Isn’t that a very Catholic concept? A vow taken by nuns?”

“It’s not the same at all,” said Abigail, her frown returning.

“I’m sorry,” said Kali. “I don’t actually know the exact ideology of Eden’s River. Perhaps you could tell me a little bit about your beliefs?”

“You only need to read the good Word of God to understand,” said Abigail. The soft quality of her voice had taken on an edge