Red Sky Over Hawaii Page 7

  The two men paused at the top of the steps. Something about their demeanor told Lana they were not here with happy news. The men gave her a puzzled look, then glanced down at Coco. The older one with a sheen on his bald head spoke first, while at the same time flipping out a badge. “FBI. Are you Mrs. Wagner?” he said.

  “No, I’m a friend,” she said as she tried to make out the faded words on his badge.

  Federal Bureau of Investigation. US.

  The younger one had enough hair to donate to his partner, and then some. It was slicked back with a whole jar full of oil. “Our business is with the Wagners. Are they in?”

  Lana looked toward the door and there was Fred, standing behind the screen. The air was thick enough to slice up with a cane knife and serve on a platter.

  “Can I help you?” he said, not coming out and not inviting them in.

  The men stepped up onto the porch. Both geese by now had had enough, honking and fluffing. “Coco, take the geese back to their cage,” Fred said.

  “But, Papa—”

  “Go,” he said.

  Coco rounded up the agitated geese and led them away.

  “We need to have a few words with you, Wagner. Let us in, please. I’m Cash and this is McMurry,” said the shiny one, again flashing his badge.

  Both men wore revolvers on their hips, clear as day. As soon as Ingrid had secured Sailor in the bedroom, Fred and the two men went inside, and Marie came out. Lana sat with the two girls.

  “What kinds of words are they having?” Coco said.

  “Probably just routine information gathering, you know, wondering if they have seen anything suspicious,” Lana said.

  Marie gave her a look that said yeah right, and Lana turned to look out on the lawn so the girls wouldn’t be able to interpret the concern on her face. These men felt very Eliot Ness, and it did not bode well for the Wagners. “Then why didn’t they ask you anything?” Marie said.

  “Probably because I live in Honolulu.”

  Coco and Marie pressed themselves up against the screen door, listening to the rise and fall of muffled voices coming from the kitchen. Fritz... Why did you change your name... Nazi meetings...

  Coco’s yellow dress had smears of dirt all along the side, and her ringlets stuck out in forty different directions. You could see her breaths coming fast. Two minutes later Fred and Ingrid walked out with two agents trailing behind.

  Fred said to the girls in a clipped voice, “These men want to ask us some questions at the station.”

  Ingrid said, “Mrs. Hitchcock, would you mind staying with Coco and Marie until we get back? I’m sure we won’t be long.”

  “I’m sure she’s busy. I’ll call Dutch London. They know him,” Fred said.

  Lana insisted. “I don’t mind at all.”

  “No offense, but I’d feel better with a man around,” Fred said.

  Lana felt slapped. “I’ll stay until he comes to get them, at least.”

  Ingrid gave Marie the kind of hug that meant she feared she might never see them again, and when it was Coco’s turn, she clung to her mother like a baby monkey.

  “I want to come!” she said.

  “Mausi, someone has to stay with the animals.”

  Cash jumped in. “No German,” he said, making a cut-it sign at his throat with his hand.

  Lana wanted to smack him but reminded herself that they were only doing their job. Hawaii was under attack after all. Ingrid gave her a hollowed-out and haunted look.

  “We’ll have supper ready for you,” Lana said, forcing a smile.

  As the Wagners walked down the steps, escorted by the two federal agents, Coco flung herself after them, grabbed her mother’s arm and pulled hard. “Don’t take them!” she screamed.

  Cash peeled her little hand off. “Kid, we’re at war.”

  Marie came after Coco and wrapped her from behind in a full-body hug. “Our parents are model citizens. You’ll see,” she said to the men.

  Coco began to sob in earnest and stomped her feet. “No! You come back here this minute.” The last part morphed into a high-pitched wail.

  Fred turned and, with the saddest eyes, said, “This will all be over soon, I promise. Just do as Mrs. Hitchcock says.”

  A loud groan came out of the bedroom from Sailor, and Lana and the two girls watched as the car slowly drove off. She tried to remain stoic, but she was pretty sure they all had the same dark feeling: this was only the beginning.

  * * *

  It turned into the longest afternoon on record. Coco sat on the porch with Sailor counting the minutes and every car that passed. Every now and then on the radio, the program was interrupted for a quick announcement. “Martial law has been declared, blackout ordered, stay in your house unless you are an essential worker, FDR will address the nation tomorrow.” Lana got busy in the kitchen making roasted potatoes smeared in butter and rosemary, and mixing meat loaf with fresh tomato sauce. Who knew if anyone would eat it or not.

  When night approached and the Wagners still weren’t back, she decided to hell with not using the telephone. Over at her father’s house she dug up Deputy Ho’okano’s number. If anyone, he would know what was going on.

  He picked up before the phone even rang, with a booming “Ho’okano here.”

  “Chester, it’s Lana, Jack Spalding’s daughter. I need your help,” she said, wasting no time on small talk.

  “What do you need?”

  “I flew in yesterday to see my father, but I missed him. I’m with his neighbors, the Wagners, and two FBI agents took the parents away earlier for questioning and left me with the girls. They aren’t back yet and the girls are scared. Hell, we’re all scared. Do you know anything?”

  There was a long moment where all she heard was breathing. “Hard to talk on the phone, Lana, and I’m sorry about Jack—he was a good friend. People are being arrested. Anyone who might be a threat. Japanese, German, Italian.”

  “I doubt the Wagners are any kind of threat.”

  “They aren’t taking chances.”

  His voice was grave.

  “So if they arrest the parents, what happens to the kids?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat. “Orphanage, most likely. Unless they have other family here.”

  This was not the kind of casualty one first thought of in war, but here they were. The thought of the girls in an orphanage made her sick to her stomach. “What are they doing with people they arrest?”

  “Best you stay out of this, Lana. It’s not your business. And it’s serious. Rules have changed. You don’t want to be associated with suspected Nazis.”

  From the window she could see Coco’s profile, with her button nose and bony shoulders, keeping a pained lookout for her parents. Lana’s heart lurched. This most certainly was her business.

  “Is there anything else you can tell me? About the invasion?” she asked.

  “Not on the phone. Just go somewhere safe, away from Hilo, somewhere your father might have gone,” he said, drawing out the last words like they were taffy.

  Did Chester know about the house at Volcano? “But we aren’t supposed to drive.”

  “Type up a letter and sign my name.”

  Lana hung up the phone feeling worse than before the call. How was she going to break the news to Marie and Coco? Marie was levelheaded enough, but Coco seemed like a different breed altogether. Chester could be wrong, but she doubted it. When she walked back up the steps to the Wagners’ house, Coco glared at her in the fading sunlight.

  “I’m not eating until they get home,” she said, folding her arms across her chest and sinking farther back into the chair.

  Sailor, on the other hand, looked ready to swallow the meat loaf whole. With one ear up and one ear folded down, Sailor was awfully cute, Lana had to admit.

  “Honey, food is you
r friend right now, and your parents would want you to eat.”

  By now only the faintest glow remained in the sky. A light went on in the kitchen and Lana yelled. “Turn it off!”

  The last thing they needed was another round of police showing up.

  It went right back off. “Sorry, I forgot,” Marie said.

  Lana was about to sit down with Coco to persuade her to eat when a black car zoomed into the driveway. A wave of relief flooded in. All this fretting and the Wagners were back already. Thank the heavens above.

  “Would you look at this?” she said.

  Coco perked up for all of five seconds, and then retreated into a ball once she saw a man waddling up the path. His suit was several sizes too small and he had one long stripe of hair pulled over his head. “That’s Mr. London. I hate him,” Coco said.

  Mr. London stopped one step short of the porch and said, “I got a call from Mr. Wagner informing me of the situation here, and I came straight over. You must be Lana Hitchcock. I’m Dutch London.”

  Marie rushed out, then froze when she spotted him. He eyed her up and down, with a pause at her breasts, then did the same to Lana. Oddly, he was holding a yellow plumeria flower in his left hand.

  She nodded. “Mr. London.”

  “Call me Dutch. Looks like we’ll be spending some time together,” he said.

  “And why is that?”

  “Fred said they’re holding them indefinitely.”

  Lana glanced over at Coco, who was all ears. “Say, why don’t we go inside to chat. Girls, wait out here, please.”

  Lana went to the kitchen and sat. She waited a few moments, but Mr. London did not appear. She went back to the screen door just in time to see him slipping the flower behind Marie’s ear. He gave an approving nod and said, “Sure looks pretty on you.”

  “Mr. London. Shall we have a word?” Lana said.

  He turned to follow Lana, but not before letting his hand drift across Marie’s shoulder.

  The kitchen was dark enough now that she could make out only his outline. He smelled like rotten cheese and she almost gagged when he opened his mouth.

  “We need to get this place boarded up on the double,” he said.

  We?

  “So tell me, what exactly is going on?” Lana said.

  “Freddie called—wouldn’t say from where—and said they’re having him sign over power of attorney to me on account they’re being hauled away to some kind of prison. He asked if I would watch over the girls and keep ’em safe. You know, these Japs’ll be landing in Hilo anytime now and young girls will be in trouble.”

  Lana could hardly believe what she was hearing. Surely the agents must have a reason to believe the Wagners were dangerous, but they seemed like such good people. “How are you and the Wagners acquainted?” she asked.

  “We do business together. I’m in real estate, and I live just down the way. He trusts me.”

  A red flag shot up in her head. In her experience, when someone has to inform you that you can trust them, you usually can’t.

  “Are they Nazi supporters?” she had to ask.

  “Not that I knew of, but people do things behind closed doors that would shock even Adolf Hitler. Know what I mean?” he said, taking a step closer.

  Lana moved back until her hip hit the counter. “Look, I don’t mind watching over the girls. I promised Fred and Ingrid I would, so that lets you off the hook,” she said.

  “Oh, but he asked me just an hour ago. Help run the store and keep the household in order. That makes me responsible, and I don’t shy away from duty, no sirree. And better to have a man around—you never know when those Japs are coming ashore.”

  Having this man in her face all day, so-called caring for the girls, seemed unthinkable. Had Fred been so stupid to really ask this? “Don’t you have your own household to worry about?”

  “I’m between places. Mine just sold.”

  “So you’ll be living here until further notice?”

  “The girls are familiar with me, and we all get along just fine.”

  If only she could phone the Wagners to double-check his story. It sounded off. “Tell you what. Why don’t you give us one night here alone, and I can break the news to the girls. Coco has had several bouts of hysteria since the agents were here, and it might be better if I handle it. You know, woman to woman. Then you’ll have time to gather your things,” she offered.

  He made a weird grunting noise, then said, “Deal.”

  After he left, Coco interrogated Lana about his visit. Why was he here? What does he know? He’s not coming back, is he? Then she said, “He looks at Marie like she’s a bowl of chocolate pudding with whipping cream on top.”

  That did it. Lana spent the next couple of hours loading up the truck under the light of a waning gibbous moon. To the girls she gave the lame excuse of having the truck packed and ready to go in case the Japanese showed up.

  “What about our parents?” Marie asked.

  “We’ll pack enough for them, too.”

  She could not bring herself to say, Your parents might not be coming back and you could end up in an orphanage or with Dutch London.

  Coco spoke up, too. “We can’t leave Sailor and the geese.”

  “We won’t, don’t worry.”

  Lana felt like the worst kind of liar as she went around in both houses and collected blankets, as much food as she could fit into boxes, lanterns, matches, though there would be no fires at night. Being at the volcano without fires was not a pleasant proposition. She had the girls pack their warmest clothes, and Coco was in charge of packing a bag for her parents and putting a box of dog food and Milk-Bones together.

  All the while Lana was trying to make sense of the madness. All this time hearing about the war raging in Europe, the horror stories had belonged to other people. Now the war had come to her hometown.

  Throughout the night she faded in and out of sleep, dreaming of bombers and submarines and soldiers sneaking into the house and climbing into her bed. One of them smelled like fish and seaweed. He was shaking her shoulder and trying to wake her up, but she couldn’t open her eyes. Horsefeathers, they were blindfolding her! All at once she was wide-awake with fear snaking around her throat and squeezing. Her eyes shot open, but the room was early-morning blue. Someone was sitting on the bed next to her, slanting it down from his weight.

  “Marie?” she said, knowing full well it was not Marie.

  “Lana, it’s Mochi,” he said softly.

  A thick wave of relief. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “We want to go with you.”

  THE WALL

  December 8, 1941 Hale Manu, Volcano

  A house without a wall. If that was the case, what else might be missing? Lana hadn’t even given thought to beds and furniture, assuming the place had been at least minimally outfitted. Her first concern, though, was getting Mochi and Benji out of the back and warmed up.

  Sailor jumped out first and immediately put her nose to the ground, sniffing and snorting and following an invisible scent that wound around the whole front of the house. Lana wondered if this far out anyone would notice a lantern, but she wasn’t willing to risk it. She peeled off the tarp, and Mochi and Benji both sat up. Mochi rubbed the back of his head.

  “We can unpack all this later, but grab your blankets and let’s go inside,” she said.

  Coco rubbed her arms. “It’s freezing. The geese should sleep inside with us.”

  Marie nudged her. “The geese have down feathers—they’ll be fine.”

  The key was in Lana’s pocket, but they hardly needed it. They walked around the deck to the side missing the wall and stepped inside. Dark and shadowy, the house felt like a cold wooden shell. The sharp smell of cedar and paint still hung in the air. Lana froze. Something moved in one of the far rooms. Thu
d, rustle, scrape.

  “There’s someone here,” Benji said.

  “Hello?” Lana said, her voice an echo in the emptiness.

  Just then Sailor came bounding in and shot past them into the dark. A second later a squeal, and what sounded like a stampede, came toward them. Lana jumped out of the way in time to avoid getting run down by a massive pig and several smaller ones. Thunder filled the house.

  “Sailor, no,” Coco said, as calmly as she would ask for a glass of water.

  Lana thought there was not a chance the dog would stop, but she did, just at the edge of the deck, as though she had come up against an invisible wall.

  “Thank you,” Coco said, wrapping an arm around the dog’s neck.

  The girl had her quirks, but she also clearly had a way with animals that went beyond the usual. Less work for Lana, since she had a whole crew of humans to worry about now.

  “We need light,” Mochi said.

  “We can’t.”

  “Just for a minute, so we can see what we got here.”

  He was right. They could be walking through a pig den with droppings over every square foot, though there was no foul smell. “Okay, but hurry.”

  A beam of yellow light cut through the darkness, showing a stone fireplace and a long great room with a wide door to what appeared to be a kitchen, if the glimmer of stainless steel was any indication. Trusses crisscrossed the high space above their heads, making the room feel twice the size that it was, and it was already large. The only piece of furniture was a table twenty feet long, with two benches instead of chairs. Lana saw right away Jack’s stuff on the built-in shelves. Driftwood creatures, light fixtures, big koa and Norfolk calabashes and gadgets. It was so like him to bring the impractical stuff first.

  They moved as a group, arms brushing up against one another as they bumped their way down a hallway. Mochi led the way. Four smaller bedrooms and one master, with a pop-out window and a double mattress on the floor. A bookshelf full of books lined one side. None of the rooms had any doors, except the bathroom. Thank goodness for at least that.