Across the bed, Māpuana struggled to her feet, her left hand still on Ikaika’s arm. “The haole doctors say he will be better, maybe not so possessed by angry spirits. I pray the gods to make it so.”
“I hope so,” he responded.
“You must help make it so.”
He felt helpless in the face of her plea. “What can I do? I’m not a doctor. I have no special skill for healing.”
“Ikaika comes from a good root, but ‘uhane ‘ino, demons, have possessed him. All of us have done bad things … things we regret ….”
Their eyes locked and Koa suddenly wondered if his mother somehow knew of his confrontation with Hazzard. Logic told him it was impossible, but his mother possessed mystical powers beyond his understanding. The thought sent a chill through him.
Then she continued, “… but the ‘uhane ‘ino have caused Ikaika to do many, many bad things. They have possessed him and hidden the goodness inside. I know this in my na‘au, the depths of my soul. ‘Ike aku, ‘ike mai, kōkua aku kōkua mai; pēlā ihola ka nohona ‘ohana … family life requires mutual help. You must forgive the pain Ikaika has caused, and find a way to help him … to put your family back together … for my sake … for your ancestors. That too I know in my na‘au.”
He thought about telling her of his conversation with Walker McKenzie, but it was too speculative. They stood like that for a long time, both holding Ikaika’s hands—Koa hoping his brother survived, while his mother continued her prayerful oli, her chants.
Koa excused himself, left the hospital, and walked across Punchbowl Street to the Queen Lili‘uokalani Building that housed the Department of Education. His thoughts turned to the KonaWili children. What physiological toll would the disaster inflict on them? Having survived trauma in a supposedly safe place, would they ever feel secure? He wondered if Pele’s wrath would turn some to violence or criminal behavior.
Na‘auao made him wait nearly forty-five minutes. Her cold reception surprised him only because the state AG had encouraged Zeke to arrange the interview. Once an attractive woman, the years hadn’t been kind to Na‘auao. Her stony face looked brittle, like pieces might chip off, and her once black hair had thinned and turned gray. Still, she radiated an intimidating frigidity. He couldn’t imagine working for this woman, the “Iron Lady” of the DOE.
He began by thanking her for the meeting.
“Get to the point, Detective. I’ve got a school system to run.”
He got to the point. “Did you have an interest in the Hualālai Hui?”
She glared at him with undisguised malice. “I wasn’t a partner in that hui.”
That didn’t answer the question. “Did you have any financial interest, Mrs. Na‘auao?”
“I told you I wasn’t a partner,” she said, clipping her words.
“That doesn’t answer my question. Were you a participant in any sub-hui?”
“No.”
Why had she danced around his questions? If she really didn’t have a financial interest, why not just say so? “Do you know who had undisclosed financial interests in the Hualālai Hui project?”
“No one’s said there were undisclosed financial interests.”
She was playing games with him. “I’ll rephrase the question. Do you know of any undisclosed interests?”
She stared at him for several seconds before letting out a long sigh. “My husband was offered an interest but turned it down. We don’t invest in school projects.”
Koa felt a jolt of electricity. The developer had offered undisclosed interests to entice public officials. “Who approached your husband?”
She hesitated. Finally, with another sigh, she said, “Cheryl Makela.”
“How much did she offer?”
“It never got that far.”
Gommes had partnered with Makela, and she’d tried to bribe a government official whose approvals were needed to make things happen. Zeke would be thrilled.
“Do you know of any other undisclosed interests?”
“I assume shares were offered to planning officials, but I’ve no direct knowledge.”
“Why do you assume that?”
She looked at him like a teacher chastising a stupid child. “Because I’ve heard the same rumors you’ve heard. The state’s land-use system is notoriously corrupt, although there’s rarely been any proof.”
“Who selected the KonaWili school site?”
“Let me tell you how this works. My former deputy Joanie Pupuka, head of facilities, handled all the school acquisition and construction issues. In the case of KonaWili, the developer offered the site, and the Hawai‘i County planning department approved it. The DOE accepted the planning department recommendation.”
“Didn’t the DOE do any environmental survey of the site?”
“The DOE hired land surveyors, not environmental people, to review the site. For environmental issues, we rely on county planning people. The Hawai‘i County planning department prepared an environmental report on KonaWili, and we accepted it.”
“Were you aware the site is quite far from the main roads with limited access in the event of an emergency?”
“We look to the county planning people for that sort of thing.”
“Would it surprise you if the Hawai‘i County planning office never visited the site?”
“Officially, yes. Unofficially, it wouldn’t have mattered. No one in that department was competent to perform an environmental survey. They just relied on the developer.”
“So why didn’t the DOE check the environmental suitability of the site?”
“We supervise two hundred ninety-one public schools. We don’t have time or money to inspect every site, let alone look into local environmental matters.”
Koa wasn’t surprised she laid responsibility off on the Hawai‘i County planning department, but the DOE hadn’t been completely hands-off. He checked his notes to find Tony Pwalú’s exact words: Hank showed “some haole lady from Honolulu.” Koa considered how he’d phrase his question. Boyle and Witherspoon had been murdered. Tony Pwalú might not have long to live, but Koa didn’t want to get him killed.
“I have information,” he began, “that a DOE employee visited the site during the early phases of construction. Do you know who that might have been?”
“That would be unusual. We rely on the county building inspectors to check on construction. If anyone from this office visited the KonaWili site, it would have been Joanie Pupuka.”
He looked her directly in the eye. “You didn’t visit the site?”
She stared straight back. “No.”
Changing tacks, he asked, “How come the DOE paid a premium price—some 40 percent over the average—for the land?”
“I didn’t like the price, but the developer wouldn’t budge. It was sufficiently out of line so I asked the board. The board approved the price.”
“Couldn’t you have acquired the site using the state’s power of eminent domain?”
Her lips tightened and she scowled. “Sure, but that process takes years.”