Primitive Secrets (5 page)

Chapter 9

Storm slept like she'd been drugged and woke to the smell of rich coffee. Six-thirty and she could hear water running. Plenty of time for a shower and a cup of coffee with Leila before she headed out. Maybe she would have two. She was going to have to face Wang and tell him that not only had Hamasaki's briefcase not turned up, the file he'd requested for the last two days had been stolen.

When Storm walked into the office, the receptionist gave her a big grin. “There's a packet on your desk,” she said.

Storm nearly dropped her laptop. “Good news or bad? I can hardly stand any more surprises.”

The woman's expression was reassuring. “We think it's good,” she answered.

We? Storm hurried into her office and dumped her computer case and files on a chair. A flat manila envelope with the Hawai'i State Bar Association return address was positioned so that when she sat down, she couldn't miss it. Storm didn't bother to sit down. She ripped it open and looked at her bar certification with tears pooling in her eyes. She was a real lawyer, now. If only Uncle Miles could have seen it. Well, who knows, maybe he could. Her lips curved into a smile that quivered a little bit.

A soft knock on the doorframe caused her to look up. Hamlin was standing just outside the office with two coffee mugs in his hands. “I would have brought champagne, but I'd fall asleep during this morning's deposition.

Then I had the idea you might let me treat you after work.

So I brought coffee.”

“How'd you know it was good news?”

“It's like college. When you don't get in, you get one of those skinny white envelopes.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “So what do you say?” He handed her a mug.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Storm sat down on top of a stack of papers on her chair. She stood up. “What time?”

“Come get me when you're done.” Hamlin raised his mug to her and left.

Storm pulled a sheaf of papers from her in-box that one of the partners had left for her to research. When someone knocked on the door, she came up for air, wondering if she'd forgotten an appointment.

Wang walked into her office. “I wanted to extend my congratulations. We're all proud of you.”

“Thanks.” Storm set her mug down on her desk and squared her shoulders. “Mr. Wang, my house was broken into last night and Hamasaki's files were stolen. I—I'm sorry.”

A look of what might have been fright on Wang's face turned to concern. “Were you home? Was anything else stolen?”

“Some money.”

“Any idea who did it?” he asked.

“The police think it was addicts.”

Wang nodded. “Probably. You should get your locks changed. Get dead bolts, too.” He turned to go, then stopped. “The Hamasaki family is meeting in forty-five minutes for the reading of the will.”

Storm gave him a few seconds to get down the hall, then sagged in her chair with relief. She'd given him the bad news without even setting his tic off.

The phone dislodged her thoughts and a voice with a businesslike tone identified himself as Roy Tam. The name sounded familiar. Oh yeah, Tam was the head of a local labor union. Storm sat up straighter.

“Ms. Kayama, I wanted to let you know how sorry we are about Miles Hamasaki's death. We're sending a donation in his memory to a foundation Bitsy…er, Mrs. Hamasaki named.”

“Thanks for your concern, Mr. Tam. It's been quite a shock.”

“Of course,” Tam said. Storm could hear him rattling papers. “Hamasaki was working with us on a bid for a highway renovation out by the airport. I'd like you to take over the job, if you feel up to it.”

Storm set her coffee cup down, sloshing some onto her desk. She knew the case; Hamasaki had shown her some of the proposals. “Are you sure you don't want a lawyer with more experience?”

“This is straightforward. You've got to start somewhere.”

“Thanks, Mr. Tam. Sure, yes. I'll give it my full attention.”

Storm hung up the phone very carefully, got up, closed her door, and did a dance around the desk. Then she did the Hallelujah Chorus under her breath. Either Uncle Miles or Aunt Bitsy had pointed some heavies in her direction. A second later, Storm stopped and gazed across the small room.

Tam must know that she passed the bar. The coconut wireless was operating at full tilt and the speed of it was making her dizzy. Uncle Miles had taught her that information was power. Even Hamlin had known about the theft of the file minutes after she'd discovered it. She needed to pay more attention to what the people around her were doing.

She had a half-hour before the reading of the will. With a pencil, she first doodled a comical picture of Fang, then wrote down the subjects of the papers in Hamasaki's file: seawall, nursing homes, Dr. O'Toole's phone numbers. None of these notes seemed significant. What had she missed in that file folder?

Storm sketched leafy vines between the three topics. Whom could she trust to keep her confidence, yet share information? Storm squinted into the distance; a gray head passed by her partially open door. Lorraine looked a little better than she had at Wednesday's memorial service, though she had aged a decade in the last five days. But Lorraine would help, if not for Storm's sake alone, then out of loyalty to Hamasaki.

Someone tapped on the frame of Storm's door. Meredith Wo peeked around the corner. “I need to ask you some questions,” she said.

“Sure.”

Wo perched on the edge of the seat facing Storm's desk and held out a little tin of imported candies. “Mint?”

“Sure, thanks.” Storm popped the hard sphere into her mouth and regarded Meredith. The woman seemed fidgety. Her hair was limp and she had a pimple on her shiny nose. She looked like she was working too hard. Not that Storm felt cocky; Meredith earned a few hundred grand a year and didn't have two black eyes.

Wo crunched one of the candies between her teeth. “You're going to the reading of the will, aren't you?”

Storm glanced at her watch and nodded.

“Have you seen it? When he was alive?”

“Not recently, but I don't expect many surprises. Uncle Miles was straightforward about money. He wanted all his kids to be economically self-sufficient.”

“That sounds like him.” Wo also looked at her watch. “Did Hamasaki ever tell you about a cancer patient? I can't remember the person's name and was hoping you might know.”

“A malpractice case?”

“I don't know. Hamasaki told me he wanted me to look over some medical charts on a guy. I got the impression he didn't know if the patient had a case or not.” She sighed. “I never heard any more about it.”

“I haven't seen a reference to a patient in any of his papers.” Storm thought of the paper with Dr. O'Toole's name and phone numbers, but didn't mention it. Not only had Hamasaki and O'Toole been old friends who golfed together twice a week, but Hamasaki had helped O'Toole with a rancorous divorce a few years ago. The notes could refer to anything.

Wo got up to go. “I guess it was one of Hamasaki's passing thoughts.”

“Wish I knew something.” Storm got up and walked down the hall with her. Wo's office was across the corridor from the conference room.

Wo looked sideways at Storm. “How's Cunningham treating you?” she asked.

“He hardly ever talks to me. Wang can be a little tough, though,” Storm said.

“He's a detail man.” Wo nodded toward the room. “Looks like everyone's there. I'll see you later.” She headed into her own office and closed the door.

Storm entered the conference room, gave Aunt Bitsy a hug and shared embraces with Michelle. She had to explain her black eyes to the women. David stood up and nodded while Martin pulled the chair out next to his.

Lorraine fussed in the corner with a coffee and teacart, and when Cunningham entered, she headed toward the door. Cunningham smoothed one side of his carefully arranged silver hair and motioned Lorraine to an empty chair. “Please join us,” he said. “You're mentioned in the will, also.” He stood at the end of the long table and smiled down on the small group. “Let's get started. It's not a complicated will and most of you probably know what's in it.”

For Storm, the will held a few surprises, mostly good ones. The first was that Hamasaki's estate was bigger than she had expected. With the oceanfront home, which had appreciated astronomically over the last twenty years, he left his wife a combination of assets worth over twenty million dollars. His pension fund, mostly in blue-chip stocks, was worth about four million and he also had quite a bit tied up in commercial real estate properties.

Storm sat back in her chair, a little smile on her face. He'd mentioned interest in a few shopping centers and office buildings, but she hadn't been paying full attention to his low-level flow of information. He had also left Lorraine ten thousand a year in a mutual fund for the three decades of what he called their “partnership.” It was worth well over a million dollars, now.

Storm knew that when the Hamasakis took her in at sixteen, they had established a trust fund for her as they had for each of their natural children. David's, Michelle's, and Martin's were started at birth and the Hamasakis had put together well-rounded portfolios that had appreciated over the years to hundreds of thousands of dollars per child. Storm's, of course, was smaller than the others' because it had been started later, but she still was left almost two hundred grand.

When Cunningham read the dollar amounts of the funds, everyone smiled with pleasant surprise. It's hard not to be pleased when someone bequeaths you a small fortune, no matter what the circumstances. Cunningham stifled a smug smile as the bearer of good news and read the last sentence about the trusts. “The funds will be available to each individual on his or her fortieth birthday.”

His lips were parted to continue, but David bounced to his feet, shaking the table and the floor with his weighty momentum. “Fuck!” He struck the table with both fists, which spilled coffee that everyone was too stunned to notice. Then he stomped to the window and stood facing the glass, arms folded across his belly. Michelle chewed on her lip and looked at Bitsy with tear-glazed eyes.

Storm followed Michelle's gaze to Bitsy's face. Bitsy looked into her lap and murmured, “Oh, dear.” Martin looked pale and still. Storm looked back at Cunningham, who tried not to appear perplexed.

David caught her movement in his peripheral vision. He jerked his head toward her and a shock of black hair fell into one eye. He snarled at Storm. “Yoa wouldn't understand.”

Bitsy still stared at her lap, so Storm looked at Martin. His eyes were black with anger, and he shook his head at her, apparently in warning. Cunningham gazed around the room at each of them. A strand of his silver hair had fallen across his forehead, but he pushed it back with a small snort. With utmost dignity, he read the last sentences of the will, technicalities nobody listened to. Then he snapped his briefcase closed and strode from the room.

Lorraine slipped out with him. Bitsy Hamasaki and her three children clustered at the window with their backs to Storm.

Storm sat stunned in her chair for a second, then duplicated Cunningham's and Lorraine's swift exits. A headache pounded behind her left eye. She headed for the solitude of her office cubbyhole.

Chapter 10

Storm dropped into her office chair and stared at the back of the door she'd closed carefully behind her. She'd always been sensitive to the fact that she wasn't a full-fledged member of the family. Still, she had at least felt like she could share her problems with them and they would do the same. But it appeared that Hamasaki had been the glue that held her in the family orbit.

Storm picked up the phone. “Hi, Lorraine. Can you come to my office?”

Lorraine sounded worn and a little apprehensive, but she was at the door in less than a minute. She looked like she hadn't slept in the last week. Her hair was in disarray and her eyes had lost their light. She looked like an ill, elderly woman.

Storm offered the older woman the more comfortable desk chair, which she had pulled to face the other chair in the room. She sat across from Lorraine, close enough that their knees almost touched.

“I'm glad about your inheritance. You deserve every cent,” Storm said.

“Thank you. Mr. Hamasaki took good care of Ben and me.” Lorraine twisted her wedding ring and kept her eyes directed toward her lap. “I wish I had…done some things differently.”

“I wish I had, too.”

Lorraine looked at Storm quickly with an expression almost like hope, then looked down again. “Did Mr. Hamasaki show you his recent work?”

“A little, but I've lost some of his papers. Do you have any duplicates?”

Lorraine slumped a fraction more in her seat.

Damn, she'd put the poor woman on the spot. Hamasaki always was trying to teach patience, a sense of timing. “I was just hoping you might be able to help me with some of the documents that were stolen.”

Lorraine spoke cautiously. “A man came and started Mr. Hamasaki looking into some things. He was sick.” She looked up at Storm. “Was this why you called me?”

“Uh, not exactly. Do you remember his name?”

Lorraine pressed her lips into a tight line. “He told me his name was Mike Oshiro, but that wasn't his real name.” She sat up straighter. “Why did you call me?”

“I was surprised at David's reaction to the will. You have any idea what's going on with him?”

Lorraine clamped her hands together and looked down at them with an unhappy expression. Storm wanted to ask a dozen questions, but forced herself to lean back and take a deep breath. Lorraine certainly knew more than she was saying. Storm looked at the older woman's tiny white hands, which she'd twisted tightly together, and suddenly understood that the woman was afraid. Lorraine wanted to talk, but was anxious about something.

Storm's mind raced. Learning whether Lorraine worried about a family or a business issue would depend on how she could put the woman at ease.

“I'm trying to figure out if I did something wrong,” Storm said softly. “Even Martin shut me out of the conversation after Cunningham read the will.” She let the sadness show on her face. “I also wanted to ask you about Hamasaki's briefcase. Maybe if I knew where he was Sunday, who he spent time with, I could find it.”

“Maybe his late appointment has it,” Lorraine mumbled.

“He met someone on Sunday?”

“Yes, Bitsy was visiting her sister on the Big Island, so he was getting some extra work done. He had an appointment that afternoon.”

Storm sat back with surprise. He hadn't said anything to her about it. “Who'd he meet?”

“I don't know. I'd come in to do some filing and he told me not to wait, that he wouldn't be long. Dr. O'Toole called, but he says he never came to the office.”

Storm blinked rapidly. Uncle Miles used to tell her over and over that one had to pay attention to more than words. He knew better than most that she operated with her head in the clouds. He also understood that almost everyone lied.

“You answered his private phone line for him, didn't you?” Storm asked.

Lorraine nodded slowly. “Yes, most of the time.”

Storm leaned toward the older woman. “Maybe if we put our heads together, we could figure out who he met. Or where he left the briefcase.” Storm searched Lorraine's face. “Do you think you could make a list of people he talked to last Friday and any calls to the office during the weekend?”

Lorraine nodded. “I could try.”

Lorraine's eyes flitted from Storm's face to the desk to the hands folded tightly in her lap, then she stole another glance at Storm.

Again, Storm had the feeling that Lorraine wanted to share something. “I can help with Friday. I drove him to work after we dropped his car for an oil change,” she said.

“Oh yes, you two came in together. And not long after he went to his office, Bitsy called.” Lorraine started twisting her wedding ring again and avoided Storm's eyes. “Some of his problems were family ones.”

“You know, until this morning, I thought I was part of the family.” Storm's voice quivered a bit.

Lorraine sighed. “You probably know some of this, anyway. I overheard part of the conversation when I dropped some contracts in his office to be signed. He was practically shouting.” Her face reddened. “He was telling Bitsy that David's financial problems were his own fault and loaning him money wasn't going to teach him to stop his champagne and truffle parties. It sounded like Bitsy thought David's worries were hurting his health.” Lorraine dropped her voice. “She told me a few days ago that he'd gained more weight and his insulin requirements have gone up. He has to give himself at least two shots a day, now.” Lorraine looked at Storm. “He's gained weight, hasn't he?”

Storm nodded. “And Hamasaki was tough about money. He was determined none of us would depend on our trust funds as a livelihood. He'd pay for four years of college, but you had to make it from there. “ She put a hand to her mouth. “David resents me for having a job in Hamasaki's firm, doesn't he?”

Lorraine looked quickly down at her lap. “Well, no one else went to law school. I don't know what they expected.”

Storm swallowed. “I see.”

The older woman looked at Storm's face. “It's easy to forget how hard another person has worked.” She gave Storm's knee a soft pat and stood up to leave.

“Um, Lorraine?” Storm asked. “What happened to the man that came to see Uncle Miles? That Mike Oshiro?”

“I don't know, except that he looked very ill and he didn't want anyone to see him in the office.” She frowned. “Miles might have sent him to see Meredith, but—” Lorraine was interrupted by loud knocking, then Cunningham opened the door and popped his head in.

“Am I interrupting something?” He smiled and smoothed his hair. “You girls having a coffee break?”

“We wish,” Storm said. “I'm following up on some of Hamasaki's business.” She smiled. “Thanks, Lorraine. Come in, Cyril.”

Storm stood and started to roll her office chair back around behind the desk.

Cunningham put his hand on her arm. “Don't bother moving things around. Have a seat. I wanted to congratulate you on passing the bar.”

Storm sat in her office chair and gestured for him to take the other chair. He scooted it closer to her. She gave him what she hoped was a professional smile: no teeth showing and dead-on eye contact. But he was sitting a little too close and he kept smiling. She could smell his aftershave. Too much cologne on men always made her wonder what they were covering up.

“Thanks,” she said. “Interesting meeting this morning, wasn't it? I was a little surprised that Hamasaki moved the age of acquiring the trust up to forty years. The last time we talked, it was thirty-five.” She shrugged. “That was about four years ago, though.”

“He asked me to change it a few months ago.”

Storm leaned back in her chair. Cunningham moved so that his knee touched hers. She tried to scoot the chair back without appearing obvious, but the wheels wouldn't turn in the pile of the carpet. “You have any idea why David was so upset?” she asked, backpedaling.

“No idea.” His knee slipped between hers.

Storm could feel her face burn. She stood up. “It's probably the stress of losing his father.”

“Yes, I imagine you're right.” He rose from his chair and put a warm hand on her shoulder. “I'd like to get together with you and discuss your aspirations with the firm. Losing Hamasaki as we did was a real shock to us all. We need to talk.”

Storm stared at his blue eyes. She could see capillaries around the fading iris, red against the yellowing sclera. The odor of last night's scotch was on his breath. Or had it been a more recent cocktail? She took a step back. “Good idea. Why don't you call a meeting with Wo and Wang? I'll make it fit into my schedule.”

The smile faded from his face. “Fine. We'll be communicating soon.” He turned and left the office.

Storm shoved her chair back behind the desk and fell into it. She had noticed her stomach growling during her talk with Lorraine. Now it was roiling with disgust. Her lower lip quivered with despair, a combination of this morning's ostracism and Cunningham's behavior. She clamped her jaws together and glanced at her watch. After two and she hadn't had lunch yet. What she needed was to take a walk and clear her head, maybe stop for a bite where, hopefully, she could be alone to think.

On the way through the reception area, which was busy with staff returning from lunch and waiting clients, Lorraine handed her a sheet of paper. “It's a start. Check with me when you come back,” Lorraine said.

“Thanks.” Storm glanced at the list and shoved it into her purse. She walked away as Wang and Meredith Wo approached Lorraine.

Warm, humid air drifted up Bishop Street from the ocean. A thick cloud layer lay over the city. Storm took a deep breath. She could smell the ocean; the breeze was from the south, instead of the northeast trade winds. Locals called them Kona winds, which meant storms and still, sultry air. She didn't mind; it reminded her of lazy summer days on the Big Island.

Storm wandered into the pedestrian area of Fort Street Mall, where fast food places lined the sidewalks. The smell of Chinese noodles, garlic and fresh ginger tickled her appetite. Her stomach growled again and a frozen yogurt stand caught her eye. Storm ordered a chocolate shake with walnuts. It was delicious, even though chunks of nuts clogged the straw. Maybe she'd have stir-fried noodles after she finished the drink.

She sat on the edge of a fountain and watched a pair of mynah birds fight over half of a Big Mac someone had dropped on the cement. The sandwich was big enough for ten birds, yet the two squawked and carried on in a racket that attracted passersby. The birds quarreled as if their lives depended on the victory, rather than the food. Not unlike humans, Storm reflected. She slurped the rest of her shake and took a deep breath of briny air mixed with spray from the fountain.

What she really needed right now was a trip to the Big Island. She needed to be in the small town of Pa'auilo with family who wouldn't judge her. Life was simple there. She smiled at the memories of running a bit wild with cousins and second cousins of her mother's. She could go visit them, see their kids, and spend time with Aunt Maile and Uncle Keone.

There, everyone watched everyone else's children and the kids darted through koa forests in the mists that drifted down from Mauna Kea and brought a coolness that never reached the hot southern part of the island. They rode old, rusty bicycles, probably the same ones their parents used to ride, along the cane haul roads. Drivers of the huge, muddy trucks knew to watch for them, and the sugar cane itself, with its great prickly leaves, kept them out in the open where they could be seen. The kids, like their parents before them, rode the bikes to the edges of the cliffs that jutted hundreds of feet above the ocean. There, they could watch the occasional humpback whale cavort with its mate in the indigo swells.

Nothing was wasted. Storm remembered happily accepting a cousin's faded overalls for school. Most weekends were spent with extended family; the adults supervised kids' games from old lawn chairs while they shared a keg. There was usually a reason for at least a potluck, if not a ll‘aa.

The very thought of an imu-roasted pig, lomilomi salmon, and laalaa made Storm's mouth water. She got up and threw her empty paper cup into a nearby trashcan. The wrapper of the sandwich the mynah birds had torn apart drifted against her foot and left a grease spot on her shoe. She needed to get out of the city.

It was Friday, why not? A pay phone perched on the side of a building at the corner of Queen Street, where the traffic around the pedestrian mall resumed. Storm picked up the receiver, got someone at the Aloha Airlines desk just as a bus bellowed by, spewing a diesel cloud in her direction. Storm coughed. “When's your next flight to Kona? Or Hilo? I'll take either.”

The person at the airline desk chuckled. “Sounds like you're downtown. Next one to Kona is at 3:55. There's one to Hilo at 6:30. Which one ya want?”

She'd never make the 3:55 and the drive from Hilo was a bit shorter than from Kona. “Hilo, thanks.” Storm leaned against the side of the little open phone box and read off her credit card number to the agent.

Storm hiked briskly up Bishop Street back to the office. The sidewalks were crowded with people leaving work to avoid the Friday afternoon rush hour traffic. Storm felt herself jostled, but didn't turn around. It wasn't until she heard her name that she glanced behind.

Hamlin's face was flushed. “I've been trying to catch you for three blocks.”

“You were having a late lunch, too?”

“Yeah, I got held up in a meeting, then a long-distance phone call, and then Cyril dropped by to tell me about the reading of the will.”

Storm glanced at Hamlin, who now matched her steps, and wondered if Cunningham had told him about their private meeting. Hamlin didn't appear to be hiding anything, but he probably practiced nonchalance in front of the mirror.