Murder Beneath the Waves?
“Mr Tagatoa, Mrs. Yamanaka is here to see you.” Announced the white-jacketed local houseman to the very large, very dark and ornately tattooed man lounging in the Jacuzzi on the deck overlooking the blue expanse of Maunalua Bay.
“Please show her in Kamaka” It was as if an island in the middle of the Jacuzzi ocean had suddenly chosen to speak. His voice was low and his diction was educated and precise with only a hint of his Kalihi roots.
“Good afternoon Sonny” purred the striking Japanese woman in the tight white skirt and azure silk blouse.
“Won’t you join me?” he gestured at the burbling Jacuzzi. “Kamaka, bring Mrs. Yamanaka a martini and another for me eh, an’ no sneak one fo’ you’self out of the bottle, yeah?” he said with a smile that only partly mitigated the warning inherent in any instruction given by a 300 pound 6’ 9” Polynesian gentleman with tattoos over the same acreage of his body that might normally be covered by temple garments if he were still a Mormon and still married.
“Sorry Sonny, this is a business visit but I will take the martini.” she said as she sat down on the edge of the Jacuzzi. She was always amused that someone who looked like Sonny could sound like a haole who graduated from USC and had an MBA from Wharton: both of which he had and did.
“you’ve come a long way from Kalihi Mr. Tagatoa.” She thought but would never dream of saying it out loud.
Sonny Tagatoa’s resumé would make for interesting reading. She wondered if ripping off arms and legs, breaking heads like coconuts and devising new and attention-grabbing ways to make people cease to exist would come under “Experience, Education, or just Hobbies?”
“The ‘Family’ has, with the greatest respect, asked me to see if you could help us with a… a… problem. The ‘Family’ would be grateful if this particular problem could disappear but be done in a way that might discourage ahh, further problems.”
“I value my affiliation with the ‘Family’ and will be glad to help if it’s within my power to do so.” He sounded more like an attorney then the giant USC former linebacker. “You really ought to climb in. It does wonders for soothing tense muscles.”
“Now Sonny , don’t be naughty.” She said with a smile.
Chapter 1
Ka Uluwehi O Ke Kai (Edith Kanakaole)
He hoʻoheno kē ʻike aku
Ke kai moana nui lā
Nui ke aloha e hiʻipoi nei
Me ke ʻala o ka līpoa
Such a delight to see
The great big ocean Open Water
So familiar and very cherished
With its fragrance of the lîpoa
It’s a very short run for the dive boat from the Kewalo Basin harbor to the mooring buoy that floats at about fifteen feet below the surface and leads to the Sea Tiger wreck. The captain has made this trip so many times that he hardly needs to look at the GPS display on the bridge. The wreck itself is at a depth of about 110 feet and lies between Ala Moana Beach park and the Hilton Hawaiian Village.
The Sea Tiger is a very popular local dive site. It’s about 150 feet long and is home to clouds of fish, some cranky moray eels, and, often in the hold, Clyde, a six foot white-tipped reef shark.
Bob Jonsen sat on the bench at the stern and shrugged into his BCD and tank. He took a couple of breaths from his regulator and looked over at his hopefully-soon-to-be-serious girlfriend Siobhan once again feeling grateful that she was in his life. Siobahn and his almost fifteen year-old daughter Chrissie had receently returned for the summer from the Arts Academy where Siobahn is the cello teacher and Chrissie, her student.
Bob had done this dive many times before, both in the daytime and at night. For Siobhan though, it would be something of a rite of passage from her basic Open Water SCUBA certification to Advanced status. It’s no small thing to put your regulator in your mouth, take a “giant step” into the ocean and follow the mooring line down into the progressively bluer ocean. Wondering where you are and why you are here, suddenly the faint outlines of the sunken ship begins to emerge.
“I am so proud of her.” Bob thought as he regarded her tall auburn-haired 31 year-old form. “Very few people can look lithe and beautiful in a neoprene wet suit but she pulls it off.” he said to himself. “She’s taken to the water with the same passion that she applies to her cello.”
Poor Chrissie had to stay behind and was loudly unhappy about the situation. She got her Junior Open Water certification but she’s not allowed to dive below 60 feet.
“Dad, I’m as good a swimmer as Siobhan.”
True, but it’s the rules. “You are not allowed below 60 feet.”
“But you are a Master Diver” she pleaded.
“That’s right.” I said “and I’m expected to be an example to the other divers and follow the rules.”
“That’s not fair.”