Eyes of the Beholder by Rick Ludwig

Author:Rick Ludwig
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Hawaii, detective, paradise
Publisher: Babylon Books
Published: 2022-07-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

Saturday, March 30, 7:30 a.m.

Julie sat on the porch that surrounded the Boyd-Kalama main house and watched the bustle of activity around her. She could see running a ranch was a lot of work, even in paradise. But the people working there were doing what they wanted with their lives. Maybe it was time for her to do the same.

Keone’s oldest brother climbed the steps and sat his massive frame down in the rocker next to hers. He didn’t say anything. She suspected she’d need to speak first.

“Aloha, Padraig. You’re in charge of the ranch, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He untied the scarf around his neck and wiped the sweat from his face.

“How long?” She could use fewer words, too.

“From when Mama and Daddy died ‘til I hit twenty-one, Uncle Kimo ran it for me. Taught me. Since then, me.” Padraig looked at his muddy boots.

“He’s the Uncle Kimo that Keone’s going to see on Molokai, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Think he can help?” Julie didn’t want to finish the sentence with find my husband.

“Can? Yeah. Will? That’s up to Keone.” He looked up from his boots.

“Why?”

“Kimo hates authority, especially the feds. Wants to restore the legal government to these islands.”

“Do you?” Julie knew she was on fragile ground here.

“Families fought for the U.S.A. in every war. Can’t go back. But gotta remember.” Padraig stood up. “Nice talkin with ya. Got some cattle to move.”

Padraig walked to an ATV and gunned the engine. Julie realized she still had much to learn about the Boyd and Kalama families.

* * *

The nickname Vomit Comet was bestowed by numerous tourists upon the Ferryboat that ran between Lahaina Harbor, Maui, and Kaunakakai Harbor, Molokaʻi. For Keone, the trip through the Kalohi Channel was a thrilling Hawaiian roller coaster ride. Known for strong winds and choppy seas, the ferry took this channel because it was smooth compared to the rougher Pailolo Channel, which lies between Maui and Molokaʻi. Pailolo in Hawaiian means “crazy fisherman,” referring to any fisherman who would be crazy enough to try to navigate that channel. The only time Keone suffered from seasickness was when one of his friends got their fishing boat too close to the Pailolo Channel.

Once ashore in Kaunakakai, he picked up the rental car he’d reserved and drove two hours to his favorite spot on the island, Uncle Kimo’s. Hawaiians often refer to any older male as Uncle, but Kimo was Keone’s actual uncle, his mother’s brother. Kimo Kalama left Maui ten years ago because, he said, “It got too. Too many, too much, too fast, too loud, and too haole.”

Climbing the front steps, Keone saw the lovely hand-carved plaque above Kimo’s front door that expressed his philosophy succinctly. “E Komo Mai o Molokaʻi. Now go the hell home.” Uncle Kimo treated people of all backgrounds equally, so long as they stayed off his island. There were many like Kimo on Molokaʻi. The dichotomy was that tourism brought necessary income to the island. Kimo accepted this only so much.

Keone wiped his shoes on Kimo’s front doormat before removing them and peered through the tattered screen door.

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