Chameleons, a Novel Based Upon Actual Events Read online

“I need my pool finished very soon!” She again pauses, for emphasis. “My favorite grandson is graduating high school next month and I am hosting a big celebration for him, so please, go remove it right away!”

  Kane and Ooha shake their heads in acknowledgement. Both of them are a bit relieved as they realize they are dealing with a potential crime scene. Of late, it seems to them that nearly half their calls have proven to be situations that were totally blown out of proportion, if not outright fabrications.

  “Okay Auntie, that makes more sense. We’ll do what we can to get your pool back under construction.” Kane motions to Ooha, “Let’s walk around back and take a look.”

  Auntie Lee breathes a sigh of relief that they didn’t ask to cut through her home. A dirt-encrusted sword lying on the kitchen floor would be difficult to explain.

  “If you detectives do not mind, I can just wait inside. The work crew marked the spot with a big orange stake. You can’t miss it.” She abruptly closes the door behind her, rushes through the house and over to the kitchen window to watch. Kane and Ooha look at each other and shrug their shoulders.

  “Kind of hasty, don’t you think?

  “Guess she has something better to do,” responds Ooha.

  “Ooha, go grab the evidence kit and let’s check it out.” Kane begins to walk down the front steps, but stops in his tracks as Ooha says to him, jokingly:

  “Sure Kimo, I’ll grab it.”

  “Damn Ooha, you know I hate my Hawaiian name. It reminds me of the Lone Ranger.”

  “Why do you think I call you Kimo? I like to see some emotion from you! You’re always too stiff!” Ooha laughs out loud, jogs over to the car, opens the trunk and pulls out a large, black metal case. Kane desperately tries to come up with a smart comeback. As usual, he can’t think of one, so he does his best to feign a serious face as Ooha returns with the evidence kit.

  “Okay then, do you think we can get on with it now?” Kane’s failure to hold back a smile gives him away as Ooha laughs again. With smiles on both their faces they beeline for the backyard. In a few moments the yard lies before them and they instinctively pause to take in the majesty of the ocean view opening before them.

  “Wow, Ooha, I never get over how beautiful the Pacific is. What a view!” Kane shades his eyes from the Sun as he stops and takes a long look. On the far side of the yard a row of Royal palm trees sway majestically in the ocean breeze.

  “Yeah, it’s all good Kimo. What a place for a house!”

  Ooha turns his attention from the adjacent beach to the pool excavation where he easily spots a tall, orange stake. “That must be the spot, Kimo.”

  “Well, let’s get on with it,” Kane replies.

  Both detectives carefully pick their way to the orange stake where they discover only a skull and the partial upper body of the skeleton are visible. Kane edges around the left side of the skeletal remains while Ooha approaches from the right.

  Ooha carefully sets the evidence kit nearby, opens it and pulls out two pair of latex gloves. He tosses a pair to Kane who catches them without really looking as he’s staring at the skeleton.

  “Pull out a brush, Ooha. Let’s see what we have peeking out at us there.” Kane points to a spot about a foot below the skull where the earth has taken the straight-edged shape of a box. Ooha squints in the mid-day sun as he follows Kane’s finger.

  “Kimo, that looks like it might be some kind of a box.” He removes a brush from the kit, edges as close as he dares to the exposed bones of the chest and meticulously begins to brush away the dirt.

  “Take it slow,” says Kane as he continues to fixate on the box. He’s oblivious to a pistol which is firmly planted in the skeleton’s right hand as they are consumed with carefully picking away the dirt and clay concealing the balance of the box. In a matter of moments they find themselves face-to-face with a smallish, rusted metal box.

  “What’s that painted on the top?” Kane asks.

  Kneeling, Ooha carefully pulls the box from the grave and rests it on his knee. A raised, stamped emblem with bits of red and white paint still clinging to it is partially visible.

  “It looks to be some sort of emblem,” says Ooha who looks puzzled as he lightly brushes away the last stubborn bits of dirt and clay. The faded red and white stripes of the Rising Sun insignia, most often associated with the old Imperial Japanese Navy of World War II, jumps out at them. A series of barely visible painted characters, a combination of numbers and Japanese lettering, are centered just below the emblem.

  “Stop right there Ooha!” Kane sits back on his knees with a look on his face that is a combination of complete surprise and deep thought. Ooha pulls out a towel from his kit and wipes the sweat from his forehead.

  “Let’s have a look at that pistol.” Kane points to the gun in the skeleton’s hand, half covered in dirt. Ooha retrieves an expandable steel poker from their kit and picks up the gun by running the poker into the barrel. He gives the gun a twist, releasing it from the boney hand and, a little too casually, swings it over to Kane.

  “There you go. Anything special?” Ooha asks.

  Kane is rightfully upset at Ooha for the manner he handled what could be a loaded gun. He carefully takes it off the poker and gives it a once over before gently returning it to its original position.

  “Listen, Ooha.” Kane’s low and serious tone of voice captures his attention. “We are way overloaded with cases right now and don’t need this kind of extra aggravation. This box looks to me to be something out of World War II and this pistol is most definitely not anything we see on the streets. I’m not sure, but I might have seen something like it in a display case at Colonel Nat’s surplus store.” Kane pauses a moment as he stares at the faint red and white insignia on the top of the box.

  “That insignia,” Kane points towards the box, “tells me this box may well be related to the Imperial Japanese Navy. At least that’s my opinion, and obviously this lettering is not English.”

  “What are you saying?” Ooha quickly stands and looks down, first at Kane, then the box, then at the pistol, and finally back to Kane.

  “What I’m saying is simple. We can call the Shore Patrol over at Pearl and once they’re here we can pass this matter off to them and get on with business as usual.” Kane is obviously pleased with himself as he has a grin on his face. “Clearly between this odd looking pistol and the box we can justify calling in the Navy. In a worst case scenario the Navy eventually bounces it back to us, but only after they do all the real work.”

  Ooha’s expression changes from a frown to a wide grin.

  “That’s da bomb, Kimo. I’m all for it.” Ooha repacks the evidence kit while softly whistling a melodic Hawaiian tune. As a thought occurs, he stops abruptly, smiles even more broadly and looks up at Kane.

  “Nobody will blame us for calling in the Navy and we can close the file! You’re a genius.” Ooha slams and locks the lid, snaps off his gloves and sprightly stands, looking to Kane for the next order.

  “I’m going back to the car to put the call in.” Kane pauses as he suddenly realizes something is missing.

  “Wait a minute. What happened to the guys who were working here? I don’t see anyone around?” Kane squints as he scans the beach.

  “Good point, Kimo. You put the call in and I’ll go ask Auntie about them.” Kane returns to the car while Ooha takes the evidence kit and carefully makes his way out of the excavation and over to Auntie Lee’s lanai.

  Auntie Lee’s been watching from her kitchen window and the moment she notices Ooha walking towards the house, she hides the sword in her pantry, pours a glass of lemonade and rushes out to meet him. The last thing she wants is for one of the detectives to be in her kitchen.

  “Detective, Sir, I have a nice cold glass of fresh squeezed lemonade for you. I picked the lemons this morning from my own trees.” She motions towards her lemon trees with her free hand.

  “Why thanks, Auntie.” Ooha sports his most charming smile as he accepts th
e lemonade. “But Auntie, what happened to the work crew?”

  “Oh,” she’s clearly relieved to learn Ooha apparently has no intention of entering her house, “they told me their boss ordered them to leave and not come back until the skeleton is taken away by the police. I’m pretty sure they were going fishing. They go fishing almost every day after they work because they have a boat and they even brought me some very nice ahi just yesterday.” Auntie Lee smiles at the memory of the delicious dinner she made for herself and two of her granddaughters.

  Ooha takes a long drink. “Wow, Auntie, this is da bomb!” Ooha pauses to take another gulp before continuing. “Could you give me the name and phone number of your contractor please? We might need to question the work crew.”

  Reaching into one of the over-sized pockets of her dress, Auntie Lee pulls out a business card for ‘Swim Time Pools’ and offers it to Ooha.

  “Hhmm, ‘Swim Time Pools.’ I’ve heard of them, pretty big outfit.” Ooha finishes the lemonade and hands the empty glass back to her.

  “Thanks Auntie. We’re goin’ to stay here until the Navy shows up so if you need anything, we’ll be in the car.”

  “The Navy? Why the Navy? You promised to take that skeleton away! Now how long must I wait? I need that pool finished!” Auntie Lee stares directly into Ooha’s eyes, as if he were a little boy caught doing something wrong. Ooha has seen that look far too many times in his life and immediately goes on the defensive.

  “Sorry Auntie, but we don’t have jurisdiction here. Kimo, I mean Detective Kane, says this skeleton has something to do with the Imperial Japanese Navy of World War II so naturally it’s a U. S. Navy matter, not a local matter.” Ooha pauses to gauge her reaction, but his hopes she would understand are dashed when he sees she has crossed her arms and is glaring at him. If she had a yardstick in her hands, he’d probably run away.

  “Please understand Auntie, I’m sure the Navy will get that skeleton out of there and your pool work can continue in a day or two, at most. In fact, I’d bet the Navy gets it out of there tonight!”

  “I see.” Auntie Lee continues to stare down Ooha. “So long as they are finished by tomorrow! I must have my pool!” She firmly places both her hands on her hips for emphasis.

  “I know they’ll do their best. After all, it’s the Navy!” He quickly turns and wastes no time jogging back to the car.

  Auntie Lee returns to her kitchen, moves a chair over to the window and begins a vigil of waiting for the United States Navy. Glancing at the sword, just visible inside her pantry, she whispers aloud to herself. “You are going to require a great deal of cleaning!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “SOMETHING OF PARTICULAR INTEREST”

  It‘s a little after eight in the evening, the sun has set and Auntie Lee is busy in the kitchen as she feverishly puts together a considerable platter of assorted homemade cookies. Two of her twelve year old granddaughters, Kanae and Alanna, are thoroughly absorbed in their roles as kitchen assistants.

  The staccato sound of a diesel generator penetrates every room in her home, carries across the neighborhood and drifts out over the Pacific. Her backyard is basked in a sea of white light, as if one hundred full moons were overhead. Armed Shore Patrol guards are at each corner of her property while a pair of Navy technicians are busy filling plastic evidence bags. Auntie Lee is very excited at having so many guests she can feed.

  Regardless of the pool construction delay, attending to so many people fills her with a renewed sense of purpose. For the moment she’s feeling happy and satisfied, especially since she’s been assured the Navy people will be gone by sunrise.

  Lieutenant, junior grade, Stephanie Ferguson is in command of the excavation. She’s wearing a standard-issue working uniform which appears to be a camouflage of dark and light blue and grey blotches. Her sleeves are rolled up in a manner that allows an immediate transition to long sleeves and she’s wearing a dark blue mock turtle neck. Finishing the look, her eight-point matching camouflage cap is pulled low on her forehead, just above her eyebrows. People routinely make the mistake of assuming her “jg” status translates into “inexperienced.” Not the case here.

  Ferguson’s father is one of the first Black Americans to serve as chief of a major West Coast police force. She spent two years following in his footsteps after ignoring her mom’s advice to go into education as she did; a tenured professor. One particularly boring day Ferguson came to the realization she had not seen much of the USA, let alone the world.

  Being a few inches taller than the average American female and with long, sun-streaked brown hair, she has something of a commanding presence. On the advice of her paternal aunt, the widow of a Navy captain, she decided to visit her Navy recruiting station to discuss her options and she soon found herself ushered into the office of the regional commander. With an MS from Stanford she was well received and promptly enlisted.

  Ferguson quickly established herself as a person who does not miss any detail and leaves no loose ends. For the first time in her life the color of her skin, a product of her mixed parentage, no longer matters; in fact nobody blinks an eye. All that matters is her performance and she is thriving.

  Lieutenant Commander Christopher Pastwa has the lead on this matter and is particularly appreciative of Ferguson’s thoroughness. Pastwa is a fan of Ferguson’s father who would often lecture her: “When there are no loose ends, there are few surprises…and in my profession, surprises are seldom a good thing.”

  Ferguson’s busy cataloging evidence as young Alanna walks up to her holding a small plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of iced lemonade in the other. Alanna’s long, shiny black hair is tied back in a pony tail that reaches her thighs. She’s wearing a light pink t-shirt with advertising from a local restaurant emblazoned across the front and cut-off blue jeans. At twelve years old, she’s one of the tallest in her class and spends hours watching every manner of forensic evidence television show she can find. Ferguson is fascinating to her for several reasons; she’s female, an officer, is tall and working in the same field young Alanna aspires to eventually join.

  “Ma’am, I brought you some homemade cookies,” she pauses, unsure of how Ferguson will respond. “And I’m kind of wondering if I could watch you work for a little while.” Alanna offers Ferguson her best “begging” face.

  Ferguson instantly recognizes her sincerity and replies with a smile: “Sure, I’d love to take a short break and you’re very welcome to stay around. Just don’t touch anything without asking first, ok?” Ferguson smiles even more broadly as she notices Alanna is now sporting a very large grin.

  “Thank you, and I promise I won’t touch a thing.” Alanna immediately assumes a position alongside Ferguson, practically staring at her. Ferguson is amused and politely eats a couple of cookies while extending the plate to Alanna who takes a few herself.

  “My name’s Alanna.” Alanna offers Ferguson her right hand, which Ferguson accepts. “I’m Stephanie, Alanna. Great to have you on board.” Ferguson throws Alanna a short salute which Alanna smartly returns, still sporting a huge grin. Ferguson thinks to herself a smile that large must hurt.

  Alanna cleans off the plate and idly holds it to her side as she intently watches Ferguson’s every move. Ferguson finds Alanna’s presence to be a nice break in the routine and thinks to herself: “Who knows? Maybe this little girl will one day be in the Navy.” Besides, she reasons, the overwhelming majority of the work here is completed, so Ferguson allows herself to indulge the aspiring young girl.

  “Alanna! Alanna!”

  Ferguson and Alanna look across the yard and spot her cousin, Kanae, calling to her from the lanai.

  “Alanna, your mom’s here, you have to go now!”

  Even from a distance Ferguson recognizes Kanae is sporting a very self-satisfied grin. The two granddaughters are seemingly always in a race with one another for they are the same age and in the same class, which has effectively created a very real competition between them.
Nobody in the family pushes them, but they are under the self-created impression each must outdo the other. The fact Alanna must leave while Kanae can stay has made Kanae a happy camper as now she has Auntie all to herself.

  Alanna appears quite downcast. “Sorry Lieutenant, I have to go.”

  Ferguson notices the disappointment and rips off a blank evidence catalog sheet, signs her name and hands it to her.

  “Here, take this as a souvenir. It was a pleasure to work with you.”

  Alanna takes the sheet and begins to run towards the house. She pauses halfway, turns around and says, “Thanks again Lieutenant!” Alanna then quickly disappears into the house. Ferguson glances at her watch and notices it’s already a little after ten pm. As is her habit, she quietly voices her thoughts: “Where the hell is Commander Pastwa?” She is slightly startled as she hears the familiar voice of Lieutenant Commander Christopher Pastwa behind her.

  “Hello Lieutenant Ferguson. Tell me, what do you have here?” She quickly whirls around to find Lieutenant Commander Pastwa, who loves to make his appearances, is only a few feet away.

  Pastwa is second generation Navy, about six foot two inches tall, not too closely cropped dark hair, clean shaven and is looking magnificent in his white uniform as he is fresh from an event back at Pearl. Everyone is keenly aware he is the right hand man of Rear Admiral Roman Reardon. Consequently, Ferguson was surprised to find him assigned to lead this investigation as only matters of national security or particularly unique circumstances ever merit the attention of Reardon, so Pastwa’s presence has genuinely piqued her curiosity.

  Ferguson quickly regains her composure. “I’m surprised to see you on such a relatively routine matter Commander. This just doesn’t look to be so important as to bring you all the way out to Kailua.”

  “Well, seems someone whispered in the Admiral’s ear there might be something of particular interest with regards to this skeleton. Perhaps, and this is a long shot, but perhaps it involves events dating back to World War II.” Pastwa pauses to allow Ferguson time to absorb the information. “So tell me, Lieutenant, is there something here of particular interest?”