Murder on Easter Island (7 page)

“What do you think?” Daniel asked.

José seemed puzzled. “Hawk, Hitirau is an akuaku.”

“What’s an akuaku?”

“Akuaku are the spirits of the dead, and Hitirau happens to be one from our ancient past. When I was a boy my grandparents used to scare the life out of me with stories about akuaku.”

“Sort of like what we in the United States call a ghost story?”

“Exactly. The traditional wisdom of Rapa Nui is full of such tales. But such
stories are just that — stories. The question is: What made Gomez think he had seen a spirit? Was he getting so giddy from his blood loss that he began to hallucinate? He knew much about Rapanui folklore; that’s one of the reasons he was picked to come here. But he was from Chile, and I’m sure he wouldn’t believe such nonsense. What do you think?”

Daniel shrugged. “I’ve no earthly idea, but I’m determined to find out. By the way, I’m going to call tonight and make an appointment with an elderly woman who was referred to me by the hotel. Her name is Tiare Rapu. Do you know her?”

“Who doesn’t know Crazy Tiare? What do you want to see her for?”

“I was told she knows about island history, and if I’m to have any chance to solve these murders, I need to know plenty more than I do now. Also, I’m told she will be willing to help me learn the Rapanui language.”

José laughed. “She is truly an ancient relic and will tell you story after story. But I need to warn you to take everything she says — how do you Americans say it? — with a grain of salt.”

As he hurried along, Daniel kept glancing at his map of Hanga Roa, which eventually led him to Tu‘u Ko Ihu Street. Before long he came upon her home. It was a rather small, rectangular shaped house made of what appeared to be native stone. As he approached the modest residence, he saw wooden carvings of lizards above the door. He knocked and waited.

In a few moments the door opened wide, and a slender, white-haired Rapanui woman appeared, wearing a white blouse with black pants. Her beaming smile made the wrinkles on her face hardly noticeable. She said in clear English, “You must be Daniel Fishinghawk?”

“Yes, and you must be Mrs. Rapu?”

“Yes.” She motioned him inside with a wave of her hand. “Please call me Tiare. Everyone does.”

“Of course,” Daniel replied as he entered into a concrete-floored living area with carved wooden furniture padded with brown cushions. The coffee table was a salvaged shipping crate, and the furniture sat on a large frayed area rug with pictures of moai on them. As he sat on the couch, he added, “Most of my friends back home call me — Hawk.”

She smiled at him as she sat on an adjacent chair. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just call you Daniel — it’s such a strong name.”

As Daniel heard her words, he recalled his previous conversation with Alame Koreta. He figured: I might as well give in to it.

“While we’re on the topic of names,” she added, “your last name is most interesting —
Fishinghawk.
Alame tells me it is Native American.”

“Actually, it is Cherokee.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but you don’t look like the Indians I’ve seen on television in your American westerns. While your hair and eyes are dark, your skin color is much lighter.”

“No apology necessary,” Daniel said. “Over the centuries, a good number of my tribe have intermarried with those of European descent. Many who consider themselves Cherokees have the appearance of Caucasians. Even one of the best known Cherokees, John Ross, our principal chief in the early part of the nineteenth century, was one eighth Cherokee and seven eighths Scottish.”

“How interesting,” she remarked. “Since we began interacting with the Europeans, the same has happened with us.”

“I noticed the lizard carvings over your front door. Do they have any special meaning?”

“Well, yes,” she said. “This is one of our ancient traditions. When my ancestors settled on this island, they often placed carvings of either lizards or crayfish over the entrances to their homes. They felt the image protected them from evil spirits.”

Daniel glanced around the room. “You have a very nice home.”

“Thank you. In the nineteen eighties the Chilean government built me an asbestos-sheet home on this location. The construction quality was awful, and the material it was built with was even worse. You do know about the association of asbestos and cancer, don’t you?”

“I do,” Daniel said.

“In the nineteen nineties I had it torn down, and with the little money that I had, I built this one. The native rock was cheap, but the concrete had to be shipped from Chile and was terribly expensive. So much so, that I couldn’t afford the bags of sand to mix with it. Fortunately, I knew some strong young men who were aware of my predicament. At night, when no one was looking, they took some loads of sand from ‘Anakena, and I was able to complete my home.” Tiare smiled and winked at Daniel.

Daniel couldn’t help himself — he laughed out loud. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way, and you seem to have plenty of will.”

She grinned and said, “Now, I understand you want to know more about Rapa Nui?”

“Yes,” Daniel responded, “and not only about the island. I want to learn the language as well. I would like to pay you for your time.”

“No, no — don’t be silly. The only payment I require is for you to tell me some things about your Cherokee history. Does that sound fair?”

“You bet it does. That’s a great deal — I haven’t heard a better one lately.”

“Before we go on,” she added, “I’d like to learn from you what your motivations are to learn more about Rapa Nui. I must confess I saw you on television last night. You’re here to investigate the murders?”

After the broadcast, he saw no further reason for subterfuge. “Yes. I have sought you out because it’s my belief that the more I know about your people, the better chance I’ll have to solve them.”

“Where would you like to begin?”

Daniel leaned forward and said, “First, tell me about akuaku.”

Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly, and she cautiously asked, “What would you like to know about them?”

“I’ve heard they are spirits of the dead.”

“That is true,” Tiare confirmed, “but there is much more to say about them. We believe that, sometimes, when a Rapanui dies, their spirit may linger and help protect the territory of their descendants from intruders. If the members of their own clan behaved properly, the spirits — the akuaku — were well-mannered and protective towards them and their land. But toward strangers or invaders they could be hostile or even dangerous. Some have even been described as being demonic in nature.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. So, like almost everything in life, akuaku have a good and a bad side.”

Daniel said, “In my country, some believe that people can be possessed by demonic spirits. Do akuaku do that?”

“Not in our tradition. While akuaku can be embodied in animals and natural phenomena, such as landslides and heavy raindrops, they are not known to possess people. They can affect them, though, and cause them to fall down, get bucked off a horse, or even make someone have a heart attack. Even in our modern times, akuaku are still taken quite seriously by many Rapanui.”

Daniel decided to take a chance. He leaned forward and said in a confidential voice, “I would like to share some information with you and get your thoughts. Can I count on you to keep this to yourself and tell no one else?”

Tiare grinned, obviously delighted by this turn of events. She brushed her index finger across her closed mouth and promised, “My lips are sealed.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the death of Detective Gomez at the Moana Nui Hotel?”

“I have.”

“What would you say if I told you the last word he wrote down was Hitirau?”

Tiare paled. “Oh, dear. Hitirau is an akuaku who stays in the area of our island called Puna Pau. Have you heard of it?”

“No,” Daniel admitted.

“It is a small crater just outside of Hanga Roa that is the sole source of the red scoria — a type of lava — that is used for the hats of some of our moai. These hats are also called topknots or pukao. Just to be safe, I would stay away from there. Remember, you are an outsider, just as Gomez was.”

Daniel cocked an eyebrow at the dear lady and asked, “If we chose to believe akuaku really exist, could one actually be the murderer?”

Tiare paused, obviously thinking. Finally she answered, “Not likely, but certainly one could influence someone — and perhaps even give them special powers — to allow them to do their dirty work.”

“Interesting.”

“Enough of that for now,” Tiare suggested, “let’s start learning Rapanui.” She then threw back her head and laughed, “Daniel, you don’t fool me. You’re a smart one, and I know it. A few lessons and you’ll be speaking our language like a native.”

Daniel was excited about learning the language, but talking about the note Gomez had left behind reminded him of how mutilated the poor man had been. And there had been twenty-six others before him.

Daniel shuddered at the thought.

D
aniel and José sat in front of what used to be Alejandro Gomez’s desk. The meeting with the new Chilean police head of investigation was set for ten a.m. Daniel and José waited for his arrival

Daniel asked, “Do you know anything about the new appointee?”

“I’m afraid I do. His name is Salvador Diaz, and he was one of the head police in the Pinochet regime. How much do you know about this period in history?”

Daniel listened for footsteps and lowered his voice. “I know about Pinochet being a dictator.”

“I’ll make this quick,” José responded quietly. “Diaz could be here at any moment . . . Pinochet assumed power in Chile in nineteen seventy-three in a coup d’état, overthrowing the democratically elected government. Pinochet’s seventeen years of power were a nightmare; his political opponents were brutally oppressed; thousands were killed and tens of thousands, including women and children, were tortured.”

José stood and moved to the open door of the office, and glanced up and down the hallway. He pulled the door closed, sat back down and whispered to Daniel, “Hawk, it is widely believed that Diaz was involved in the butchery, but it could never be proven, so he was kept on the police force. He’s very well educated — even got a degree in Criminal Justice at Rutgers before he started his career in law enforcement. He has a reputation as someone who gets the job done, one way or another,
no matter the cost — just like when he murdered and tortured his fellow Chileans. If I had my way, I’d put him behind bars and —”

The door popped open, and a man in a black suit with neatly combed silver hair came into the room, looking as if he’d just stepped out of the latest issue of
GQ
. He wore a white shirt and a red checkered tie, and his black leather shoes were polished so highly they could blind anyone who dared to admire them for too long. Following him was a tall, muscular man in a grey suit and sunglasses.

As the silver-haired man sat down behind the desk, he said, “My name is Salvador Diaz, and he—” pointing to the other man now standing behind him, “is my bodyguard.”

A deafening silence followed as Diaz studied his audience with cold and distant dark eyes. Finally, looking at José, he said, “You must be Detective Tepano, the one who blew the lid on this investigation and completely screwed things up?”

José’s brow furrowed as he admitted, “Yes, I am José Tepano.”

“And you,” he said, turning to Daniel, “you must be Detective Fishinghawk — the one who goes by Hawk — from New York City?” He sarcastically added, “The prima donna we’ve all heard so much about?”

Daniel straightened in his chair and met Diaz’s stare.

He’s trying to intimidate us, Daniel thought. He felt like laughing in Diaz’s face. But he suspected that might not be such a hot idea.

Diaz turned back to José. “Young man, after what you’ve done, if I had a choice, I’d throw you in the slums in Santiago chasing drug dealers, and you’d be dead by the end of the week.” Diaz shook his fist at José, a flashy ebony ring on the middle finger of his hand. “How
dare
you bring this case to the public? The only reason I don’t get rid of you is because in Chile, you’re a hero for blowing our cover. The newspapers would all go crazy if I fired you, and I’d come under public scrutiny. God knows I’ve had enough of that in my life already. I’m stuck with you, and you’d better work hard or you’ll be gone, gone,
gone
. Understand?”

José nodded.

“Good. Now you,” Diaz said with a growl, turning once again to Daniel, “I can’t send you back home with your tail between your legs for the same reason. I’d get rid of you — our hope and our salvation — but there would be a public outcry. I promise you this, though, the minute this case is solved you will be out of here and back to New York City as fast as I can snap my fingers.”

Daniel refused to respond and continued to stare at him.

“So, gentlemen,” Diaz continued, “it seems we have an understanding. I have brought in five of my top investigators from Santiago, and I want all of you to
crawl under every damned rock on this damned island and find me our killer. I’m telling you — one way or another — in the next month we will have our man. No later. Every second we delay means less money for Chile and this worthless place. If you ask me, we should have left it as it was: an island full of half-naked savages whose only skills were raising sheep, sweet potatoes and carving cheap wooden curios for tourists.”

José turned beet red and started to stand. Daniel put his hand on José’s shoulder and pushed him back down in his chair.

Diaz pretended not to notice. “Now get out of my office and hit the streets. We’ve got a murderer to find. And believe me, we will find him.” With that he picked up the phone on his desk and waved Daniel and José out the door.

As the door closed behind them, José whispered to Daniel, “He’s exactly like I thought he would be —
a real piece of shit.
”

Daniel was worn out after a long day of doing interviews with some of the local population who happened to speak English. He had gathered all sorts of useless information. Daniel knew this was not the way to find the killer, but it was clear that Diaz didn’t care to utilize Daniel’s investigative skills; instead, Diaz made him do grunt work as a way of putting Daniel in his place.