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  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 Hamas
aki 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 pho
ne 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.

  “From what I heard, Hamasaki’s kids were pretty upset.” he said.

  “I was surprised by that, too. David took it hard.”

  “David strikes me as the type who might not share with his little sister.”

  “No kidding. Not the adopted one, anyway.”

  Hamlin looked over at her. “Don’t take it hard. I doubt if he talks much outside his circle of friends. Cyril told me Mrs. Hamasaki seemed taken back by his behavior, too.”

  Storm nodded. If Cyril had overheard the phone call from Bitsy Hamasaki to her husband, he might have interpreted her reaction as disappointment rather than surprise. Perhaps Lorraine was the only one in front of whom Hamasaki could argue with his wife. Somehow, that detail was reassuring to Storm.

  Hamlin held the front doors for her. “Was Martin disappointed, too?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure.” Storm had wondered about the expression on Martin’s face. She pushed the button for the elevator, still thinking. “He wasn’t happy, but it may have been because of David’s reaction.”

  “I could understand that.” The elevator glided to a stop and they got off. Hamlin pushed open the door to the office.

  Storm preceded him, looking over her shoulder. “Uh, Hamlin, I was thinking of taking off this weekend. Could we have our drink next—”

  Meredith Wo rushed toward them. “Excuse me, Storm. Ian, you didn’t have your cell phone on. I’ve been looking all over for you.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction of his office.