Diagnosis Murder: The Death Merchant (5 page)

The reporters were gone and, apparently, so were most of the guests. The vast, teak-lined lobby of the Kiahuna Poipu Shores, open to the tropical garden, the waterfalls, and the beach below, felt empty and hollow as Mark and Steve came down for breakfast.

Mark and Steve had the dining room virtually to themselves as they sipped their fruit smoothies, ate their hot muffins with guava butter, and browsed through their complimentary copies of the Honolulu Star-Bulletin.

The lead story on the front page was, not surprisingly, the shark attack.

SHARK TERRORIZES POIPU;

LOCAL MAN FEARED DEAD

LIHUE, Kauai—A shark attacked a swimmer in the waters off Poipu Sunday afternoon, terrifying scores of witnesses and prompting the immediate closure of a mile-long stretch of beach.

"It was absolutely horrifying," said Wilma Manfred, 47, who was visiting the Garden Island from Spokane, Washington. "Everyone ran screaming out of the water. It was sheer panic."

She was one of approximately a hundred people, most of them tourists, who witnessed the attach, which occurred shortly after 11:00 A.M. about twenty-five yards offshore from the Kiahuna Poipu Shores resort on Kauai's south shore.

Witnesses reported seeing a dorsal fin measuring twelve to fourteen inches slicing through the water behind the swimmer. The victim struggled with the shark for only a few moments before disappearing.

Based on witness statements, authorities believe the victim was Danny Royal, owner of the Royal Hawaiian, a popular Poipu restaurant. Royal was reported missing by Kamalei Moala, 26, a hostess at his restaurant, when he didn't show up for work

Moala said Royal swam in front of his Poipu residence each day before lunch, but that "he shouldn't have been in the water at all" on Sunday.

Royal was apparently stung by jellyfish during his swim on Saturday, but went back in the water Sunday despite the painful encounter

"The jellyfish were an omen," said Moala, "and he ignored it."

The shark attack sparked a panic on the beach that resulted in several minor injuries. Seven people were transported to Queens Medical Center in Lihue for treatment. Six were released, while one unidentified man remains hospitalized in good condition, recovering from several broken ribs and deep lacerations suffered when he was battered against the rocks by the roiling surf. He is expected to be released today.

Authorities and witnesses credited an unidentified doctor from Los Angeles, who promptly treated many of the injured beachgoers before paramedics arrived, with saving the man's life.

Coast Guard rescue teams searched the waters off Poipu for Royal, while authorities combed the shore line on foot. The search was called off at nightfall and was scheduled to resume Monday morning, though officials conceded they have little hope that Royal survived the attack.

The incident has closed a mile-long stretch of Poipu Beach until Tuesday at the earliest. It was the second shark attack on Kauai in less than two months and the fifth this year in Hawaii.

* * *

Mark was surprised there wasn't more background on Danny Royal in the article, or even a picture of him to accompany the piece. There was a sidebar on the mass exodus of shaken tourists leaving south shore resorts and crowding the Lihue airport, and the lament of resort owners on the immediate, dire impact the shark attack would have on the local economy.

There were several related stories recapping past shark attacks in Hawaii, most of which occurred in nearshore waters after heavy rains. The sharks were drawn to the murky waters filled with runoff from island streams. Sharks were also known to congregate around harbor entrances and channels, between sandbars, and in areas with steep drop offs. Experts speculated on whether the shark that attacked Royal was a tiger, a Galapagos, or a great white.

The coverage continued in the feature section of the paper, with a long article exploring Native Hawaiian folk lore about sharks, which seemed to be viewed either as sacred gods and guardian spirits or as terrifying symbols of unspeakable evil.

One legend Mark found intriguing told the story of Kamaikaahui, a man with a shark's mouth on his back, hidden under his clothes. Kamaikaahui would ambush unwary travelers near the ocean, devour them, and blame their deaths on sharks.

Mark set the paper aside and saw Steve still immersed in the news section.

"Looks like we're going to have the entire island to ourselves," Steve said.

"Would you rather go home?" Mark asked.

"Hell no, I've been looking forward to this vacation for too long."

It took a second before Steve realized what he'd just done. He'd unwittingly confessed that all his moaning and whining about going on vacation was just a trick to get his dad to take some time off.

Maybe his dad hadn't noticed. But Steve knew he was kidding himself. Mark Sloan noticed everything.

Steve peered hesitantly over the edge of his newspaper to see his father grinning at him.

"Uh-oh," Steve said.

"No harm done," Mark waved off Steve's worries. "I figured I was being conned, but I went along with it, anyway."

Steve lowered his newspaper. "Are you sorry you did?"

Mark shook his head. "Until the shark attack, I was really beginning to enjoy myself."

"I was having a great time from the moment we arrived," Steve said. "And I don't see why that should change."

"Because you hardly knew Danny Royal?"

"Because I'm a homicide detective. I see violence and death every day," Steve said, setting his paper aside on the empty chair next to him. "What happened to Danny Royal was terrible, but the truth is, I've seen a lot worse. At least this was a freak accident, a nasty brush with nature. You know how many innocent bystanders I see killed in senseless drive-by shootings every week?"

Mark nodded gravely. "I know what you have to deal with and the stress you carry because of it. That's exactly why you need this vacation so much. You don't have to feel guilty about staying or enjoying yourself."

"Neither do you," Steve said. "How much pain and bloodshed do you see each day at the hospital? How much more when you visit a crime scene? You need this break as much as I do."

Mark looked past the swaying palms to the mist-covered mountains in the distance, impossibly green and dramatically jagged. It was beautiful here, and going home now wouldn't change what had happened.

"You're right, we should stay," Mark said. "But maybe we should consider switching to a different hotel."

"Fine with me," Steve said.

"I'll look into it after breakfast," Mark said. "What are you going to be up to?"

"I think I'll rent a bike and explore the island a bit," Steve said. "I'd welcome some company."

Mark smiled. "I appreciate the offer, but I'll just slow you down. You have a good time."

The waiter delivered the bill. Mark was about to sign for it when Moki appeared at the table and snatched the bill from him.

"Breakfast is courtesy of the hotel, Dr. Sloan," Moki said. "Along with your entire stay at the Kiahuna Poipu Shores."

Mark shared a look of surprise with Steve.

"It's just our small way of saying mahalo for what you did on the beach yesterday," Moki continued. "We were very lucky to have you with us."

"Thank you, Moki, but it really isn't necessary," Mark said, thinking about his plans to switch hotels. "I was just doing what I do."

"We insist, Dr. Sloan," Moki said. "Mahalo nui ba."

Moki left, the bill in hand.

Steve watched him go. "You can't really change hotels now."

"No, I suppose not," Mark sighed.

"Look at the bright side," Steve said, rising from the table. "We're off the hook for everything but the airfare."

"But the beach is closed here," Mark said. "You can't go in the water."

"Do you really think I'm gonna swim anywhere on this island now?" Steve asked. "I might not even take a bath."

Mark took a long stroll on the empty beach. If it wasn't for the circumstances, he would have enjoyed having the entire beach to himself.

He was almost to the other side of the bay, and the resort tower that dominated the point, when a light rain shower hit, despite the heat and the vibrant blue sky. Rather than seek shelter at the other resort, Mark decided to wait out the rain under the cover of the palms that lined the shore.

It rained frequently on Kauai, which was why the island was so incredibly lush and green. The showers, at least on the south shore, rarely lasted more than a few minutes and were often a refreshing respite from the heat. He'd seen beachgoers simply put their books and magazines under a towel and wait it out, happily soaking themselves in the cool rain.

Mark heard the raindrops drumming against something and turned to see an inner tube up in the ice plants, probably washed up by the tide. It was the inner tube that belonged to the boy Steve rescued.

And it was splattered with blood.

At least that's how it would look to the untrained eye. But Mark knew it wasn't blood because it wouldn't have remained its red color, nor would it have clung so tenaciously to the inner tube.

Mark crept closer to the inner tube to investigate. It was swarming with ants, drawn to the crimson splatters.

He took a leaf, dabbed it in the sticky substance, and sniffed. The smell was sweet.

Mark glanced back out at the sea and thought about the legend of Kamaikaahui. Perhaps it was true.

Steve was in the lobby when Mark returned, carrying what looked like a bloody leaf in a baggie.

"What are you doing back so soon?" Mark asked his son, who was soaking wet.

"The damn rain cloud followed me the entire ride," Steve said. "So I ducked into a café and had some coffee. They had the radio on. Did you hear the news?"

Mark shook his head.

"They found Danny Royal's body floating in the harbor," Steve said grimly. "There wasn't much left."

Mark took a deep breath and let it out slowly, thinking. That's when Steve noticed the baggie and what was in it.

"What's that?" Steve asked.

"Something I found on the beach," Mark said. "Do you have any friends on the Kauai Police force?"

Steve studied his dad for a moment, recognizing the expression on his face, knowing exactly what he was in for. He had a funny feeling his vacation was over.

"No," Steve said flatly.

"Then let's go make some."

CHAPTER FIVE

"Ho, he jus' come in. We no done da autopsy yet," Sgt. Ben Kealoha said, staring at the two
haoles
standing on the other side of the reception desk in the Lihue Police station. "We go'n, but it's no like we need to."

Kealoha was a heavyset, deeply tanned Hawaiian in his midthirties, wearing a loose-fitting, untucked aloha shirt that nearly hid the badge and gun that were clipped to the belt of his faded jeans. In his cheeks he had the permanent laugh lines of a man who found more amusement than sorrow in life.

Mark wasn't sure what Kealoha had just said, but it sounded like they weren't in any hurry to do the autopsy.

"I'm not sure I understand," Mark said.

"Da bruddah was grind by a shark," Kealoha replied. "Nothun' left 'cept his flog, brah."

Mark glanced wearily at Steve, who smiled and flashed his badge at the cop.

"I'm Steve Sloan, LAPD Homicide, and this is my father, Dr. Mark Sloan," he said. "So if you don't mind, bruddah, how about letting us have a look at the body?"

Kealoha examined the badge, smiled back at Steve, and motioned them around the counter. "Why didn't you say so to begin with? Always glad to oblige my colleagues in law enforcement. I'm Sgt. Ben Kealoha, but you can call me Benny."

He led them through the tiny squad room, with its three metal desks, cinder block walls, and window air conditioners, toward a door at the end of long, narrow corridor.

"So what's with the pidgin-English routine?" Steve asked.

"The tourists love it," Kealoha said. "They want us Hawaiians to be Hawaiian, brah. What's your interest in Danny Royal?"

"Nothing official," Steve said.

"We met him for the first time on Saturday. He invited us for dinner at his restaurant," Mark said. "We were on the beach Sunday when he was attacked."

"Do you know him well enough to identify his body?" Kealoha asked.

"I suppose so," Mark said.

"K'den, that will save us some trouble," Kealoha said, holding the door open and motioning them into the morgue. "I really don't want to ask a civilian to make the ID, considering the condition he's in, if you know what I mean."

They walked past Kealoha into the cold room. The floor was cement, gradually sloped toward several area drains for easy cleaning with a hose. One wall was lined with a half dozen refrigerated morgue drawers for holding bodies. There were two autopsy tables in the center of the room. On one of the tables lay the remains of Danny Royal, covered to the neck with a white sheet, not that it made much difference. What the sheet hid the imagination could readily fill in. The sheet was flat on the table below his knees.

Standing beside the table, looking as white as the sheet, was a woman in her late twenties scribbling furiously on her clipboard, taking deep breathes and letting the air out slowly. She had curly brown hair and wore a tank top, a pair of knee-length shorts, and leather sandals. There was a tape measure around her neck, the kind a seamstress might use.

"Dis da shark lady," Kealoha said.

"Veronica Klein." She offered her trembling hand to Mark and Steve. "I'm a senior field agent with the Shark Task Force of the Hawaii State Department of Land and Natural Resources."

"You must need both sides of a business card for all that," Steve said with a smile, then introduced himself and his father to her.

Mark glanced at Danny's frozen face. His eyes were open, his mouth wide, a death mask of utter terror.

"That's Danny Royal," Mark said. "Where's the medical examiner?"