Aloha Betrayed by Donald Bain, Jessica Fletcher Read Free Book Online

whistle after dark.”
    “I’ll keep it in mind,” I said.
“Mahalo.”
    “
A‘ole pilikia.
That means ‘no worries,’ but most people simply say ‘you’re welcome.’”
    We traipsed up the stream, climbed the side of the ravine, and walked through the gate and back onto the trail. The wet footprints we left on the path evaporated almost immediately in the hot, dry air, and soon my sneakers were dry as well. A short way ahead, around a curve, more yellow tape alerted us to the site from which the police believed Mala had fallen. The grass there was matted; more than one pair of shoes had beaten it down. The trampled edge was across from a grassy area that bordered a condominium development. A wood-sided porch jutted from the second floor of the building, and a little boy in a straw cowboy hat leaned over the railing watching us. Thick black hair jutted out from beneath the hat. The lenses in the round, rimless glasses he wore caught the light and gave the impression that no eyes were behind them.
    Bushes bordering the walkway on what Mike called the
makai
side of the path—that’s the sea side—blocked access to a rocky ledge, and a sign warned pedestrians to stay clear of where the soft earth had been disturbed. Apart from the sandy soil and a few crushed cigarette butts, there wasn’t much else to see. Mike ducked under the tape and carefully maneuvered himself onto the ledge so he could peer down into the cove.
    “How could a jogger have seen her?” I asked. “You can’t see to the bottom of the cliff from here.”
    “Maybe he took a break sitting on this ledge,” Mike said. “That’s the only way. Unless someone from one of the early-morning outrigger canoe trips alerted him to call the cops.”
    I stayed on the path but walked a short distance back the way we’d come to see whether the angled approach allowed me to spot where the sandy soil might have collapsed. I paused in the shade of a palm tree, part of the condominium’s landscaping, grateful for a little respite from the sun.
    “Do you see any vegetation growing out of the rock?” I called to Mike.
    “No, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there before she picked it.”
    “Maybe she wasn’t trying to pick anything at all,” I said. “Maybe she just grabbed onto a bush to stop from falling.”
    “Yeah, that’s possible.”
    “Like this one,” I said, moving to where a tall, full bush with dark red flowers sat close to the path’s edge. Mike joined me.
    “See?” I said, pointing to a broken branch. “This is what Mala might have grabbed when she started to fall.”
    “Which begs the question of why she would have started to fall in the first place. She was young and healthy. It doesn’t ring true to me that she’d simply lose her balance.”
    “Whatcha lookin’ for?” a young voice interrupted.
    I shaded my eyes with my hand and looked up to the wooden railing where I’d seen the child, but he was gone.
    “I’m over here.” He stood on the sill of an open glass door that led to a small patio under the deck where a little table and two chairs were set up.
    I waved. “Hi. Does your mother know where you are?” I asked. “I’m not sure she’d want you to come outside without her.” I was thinking that I wouldn’t want to live in such a dangerous location if I had a small child.
    “I’m allowed,” he said, stepping down onto the grass and walking toward me. “I can go as far as the tree.” He pointed to the palm.
    “Tell you what,” I said. “You stay where you are and I’ll come to you.”
    I crossed the grass and guided the boy back to the patio. Cool air from the condominium flowed through the open door.
    “Is your mother home?” I asked.
    He shook his head.
    “There must be someone at home with you.”
    “Tutu is, but she said not to bother her. She has a my, a my-something.”
    “A migraine?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Those are pretty painful,” I said, “but still, I think she’d like to know that