Free Mahu Blood by Neil Plakcy Page B

what’s she, like his keeper?”
    “Don’t know. There is something strange going on, though.”
    I remembered that Israel at the community center had said sometimes he thought Ezekiel was babooze, stupid, and sometimes lolo, crazy. I wondered which it was. I was surprised that someone so odd could be the leader of an organization and a public figure, but perhaps he looked better on TV or behind a podium.
    “Ezekiel couldn’t have shot her, because he was in the parade.
    But she did know him, and he seems nutty enough that he could have taken a dislike to her and gotten somebody from his group to kill her.”
    “I don’t see him having that kind of power. I mean, all you have to do is talk to the guy for a few minutes to see that he’s off his rocker. Maybe he’s some kind of figurehead. They just trot him out to wave at the crowd.”
    “Possible. He has the lineage, but there could be someone else behind him pulling the strings.”
    “Maile Kanuha?”
    I shook my head. “I think she’s just a volunteer. We should request the tax records for KOH, see who’s funding the operation.”
    “You’re going to need a subpoena for that,” Ray said. “You have anything to show a judge?”
    “You’re a real party pooper, you know that?” I sighed.
    MAhu BLood 63
    “Well, then, let’s see what we can find out about Ezekiel. Maybe something in his background will lead us to whoever is pulling his strings.”
    We got some takeout for lunch and did a full search on Ezekiel Kapuāiwa. He had no criminal record, and the only information we could find about him online was either in news articles or at the KOH website. He didn’t appear in any databases not even in the division of driver’s licenses.
    “How can he live without driving?” Ray asked.
    “Maile Kanuha.”
    “Nice to have that kind of service.”
    “Hey, I drove you around for months before you and Julie got a second car.”
    “If Edith knew his family, she might have known something shady in his background that could be embarrassing for people to find out,” Ray said. “Maybe there’s something he was hiding.”
    It was like a light bulb went on over my head. “All those clippings and records Edith kept. Maybe there was something about Ezekiel there, something he wouldn’t want public.”
    “You think Greg Oshiro could tell us anything more?” Ray asked. “He’s been writing about KOH for a while.”
    “Maybe you. He wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire.”
    “Ah, but that’s your stellar interpersonal skills.”
    Ray called Greg, and I listened in from another phone.
    “Maybe we can share some information,” Ray said. “You know, a real give and take with the fourth estate.”
    “You’re full of shit, Detective,” Greg said. “But my job is to cover the police beat, so if you want to talk, I’m happy to listen.”
    “That’s what I like about you, Greg,” Ray said. “That cooperative spirit.”
    He arranged to meet Greg at the Kope Bean near the Star-Advertiser office in twenty minutes. “Have fun,” I said.
    Ray shook his head. “I’m not going alone. You’re my partner.”
    64 Neil S. Plakcy
    I started to protest, but Ray interrupted, “Besides, you’re buying the coffee.”
    Thunder boomed as we drove out of the headquarters parking garage, and a lightning strike lit up the gray sky over the Aloha Tower. The palms on South Beretania flapped as a steady rain beat down. By the time we reached the Kope Bean, the shower had passed, though the parking lot was flooded, and a trash can had tipped over, spilling paper cups, napkins and stirrers onto the pavement.
    Greg Oshiro’s attitude turned cold as soon as he realized I was behind Ray. “Detectives,” he said, nodding. I took his order and Ray’s and went up to the counter, while the two of them settled in comfy chairs in the corner. Slack key guitar played through the speakers, and though I couldn’t identify the artists, I got into the groove of the music.
    I