Free Wings in the Dark by Michael Murphy Page A

flashlight, and Billy and I entered Kalua’s office.
    I closed the door and flipped on the light, knowing it wouldn’t be visible from the corridor. The man held different standards for himself than for his employees. The walls, a file cabinet, and a desk were covered with personal items, including pictures of Kalua’s family and of him posing with various dignitaries.
    I pulled open the top drawer. A bottle of scotch. From what Billy said earlier and this booze, it was clear Kalua was a drinker. I showed the bottle to Billy. “A shot of this might take care of your asthma better than gum.”
    “No, thanks.” He peered through the closed blinds of the office window into the alley. “The car’s still there. No sign of that girl…I mean those three punks.”
    I chuckled to myself. Billy had a crush.
    He browsed the office walls and pointed to a framed picture of Kalua and a gentle-looking man, perhaps ten years his junior. “That’s his brother, Ihe Kalua.”
    I sorted through a stack of papers on Kalua’s desk. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. I found nothing of interest until the last sheet, a week-old letter from his brother.
    In it, Ihe criticized his brother’s role in bringing Amelia Earhart to Hawaii. He went on to complain about the evils of American influence on Hawaiian heritage and recounted the determination and rising number of “Royalists.” He spent the last two paragraphs reminiscing about growing up when Hawaii was ruled by a monarchy.
    “Hmmm.”
    “What?”
    I handed Billy the letter while I finished searching through the desk drawers. The bottom drawer revealed a snub-nosed pistol. A closer look showed it was loaded, as I’d expected.
    Billy let out a whistle. “Why would he keep a loaded pistol in his desk?”
    “The neighborhood. Maybe he worked late sometimes and this made him feel safer. Maybe he was a cautious fellow, or perhaps he expected trouble.”
    The pistol reminded me of my responsibility to keep Laura and Billy alive. For a moment, I considered taking the gun, but I didn’t want to leave any evidence we’d been here. His secretary probably knew he kept a pistol in his desk.
    Billy dropped the letter back on the desk. “The two brothers were estranged from each other over their political beliefs. Almost like our civil war, which often pitted brother against brother.”
    He set his cap on the desk and stuffed another stick of gum in his mouth, while I spent the next few minutes searching through the file cabinet in the corner. The cabinet was stuffed with letters, papers, and financial statements that confirmed Kalua’s connection with American business interests.
    Billy’s fears seemed to have dissipated. As he chewed, he gazed around the office. “Kalua’s a prominent political figure and active in the Islands’ push for statehood. His brother wants to return the monarchy to power. That could be a motive.”
    Billy was right about a possible motive, but I couldn’t image brother shooting brother. Still, I’d seen stranger things during my gumshoe days.
    I studied the pictures on the wall, of Kalua as a young man standing before rows and rows of pineapples with a white house in the background. I looked closer and realized the plantation was the same one Laura and I had ridden the rented bicycles past earlier today.
    At the end of the wall was a photo of a family posed in front of the large white house on the plantation. Judging from Kalua’s youthful appearance, the picture was taken ten or so years ago. He was next to a heavyset woman his age—his wife, no doubt. He had one arm around his brother, Ihe, who stood beside a frail white-haired man who must’ve been their father—happier days before Hank inherited the family estate.
    The picture beside it was a framed newspaper article with a photo of Kalua and two other men. The caption mentioned Kalua and two businessmen, Taylor and Benedict, who’d helped put up the ten thousand to entice Amelia to cross