Hawaiian Sea Hunt Mystery
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Biff felt highly pleased that his father wanted him in on whatever was happening.
“Well, Tom, when Johann failed to appear at his place at the speakers’ table, I thought at first he might have been detained, perhaps held up by traffic. Or that he might have been napping after lunch, and had overslept. He’s an old man, you know. And not too strong.”
“Yes. I know. We’ve all been worried about him. He still tries to do too much for a man his age.”
“I waited about fifteen minutes,” Hanale Mahenili continued. “Then I left the head table to go to his hotel. He’s been staying at the Royal Poinciana. On my way there, my fears that he had become ill increased.”
Mr. Mahenili paused, as if ordering his thoughts.
“Yes, yes. Go on.”
“At the hotel, I rang his room. There was no answer. I went to the desk, and they told me they believed the doctor was still in his room. He hadn’t left his key at the desk, which was his habit every time he left the room.”
“I’ll bet you were really worried then,” Biff said.
“I certainly was, young man. I called for the manager, and we went up to Johann’s room. The manager had a pass key, and, after knocking, we entered his suite.”
“And no Johann Weber,” Mr. Brewster said.
“That’s right, Tom. He has a two-room suite. He wasn’t in either room.”
“Was there any evidence that the room had been searched?”
Mr. Mahenili shook his head. “It was hard to tell. Papers on his desk were in a disordered mess. Two drawers in his bureau were pulled out, with clothing messed up, and a few things strewn on the door. But you know how careless Johann was. He was never one for neatness and order.”
“But it could have been someone else who had searched the desk, and pulled out the drawers,” Mr. Brewster said.
“Yes, it could. There was no way of telling definitely.”
“Sir,” Biff said. “Were you able to get any idea of when he had last been in his room?”
“No, Biff. We weren’t. I was coming to that. We questioned the elevator operators and the desk clerks. Both night and day clerks. None of them could remember when they had last seen the doctor.”
Biff’s brows were knitted in questioning thought. “Sir, I’d like to make a suggestion, or, rather, ask you this. Do you know if Dr. Weber usually had his breakfast in his room?”
“Why, the idea never occurred to us.”
“Good thinking, son,” Mr. Brewster said.
“And were the maids asked if his bed had been slept in the night before?”
Henry Mahenili gave a shrug of helplessness. “I’m afraid, young man, that you’re a far better detective than I am. No, the maids weren’t questioned.”
“Well, then, Dad – ”
Thomas Brewster interrupted his son. “I’m right with you, Biff. Our first stop in Honolulu had better be the Royal Poinciana Hotel.”
“My car’s right outside. Your luggage should be off the plane by now,” Mr. Mahenili said. “The hotel’s on the beach – Waikiki Beach. I’m sure your family will enjoy seeing the most famous beach in the United States.”
“Gee, that’s great,” Biff said. “Ted and Monica will flip. And so will I. After all, we’re tourists.”
“All right, let’s go.”
Luggage and family were assembled and placed in Mr. Mahenili’s open convertible. The Brewsters were in for a thrilling ride.
Leaving the airport, Mr. Mahenili turned onto a dual thoroughfare called Ala Moana. They crossed the Ala Wai Canal nearing the famous Waikiki Beach section.
“On the right,” Mr. Mahenili pointed out, “is the Kapaiama Basin.”
Yachts of every color and description lay at anchor in the beautiful harbor. Some were moving out into the main harbor of Honolulu.
Everywhere the Brewster family looked, they saw flowers. One street would be lined with trees bearing white flowers. The next street would be one of red flowering trees, or yellow, or deep blue.
The car turned off Ala Moana onto Kalia Road. They saw the gleaming dome of the Hawaiian Village. To their right now, they could see the beautiful hotels standing like sentinels guarding the beach. Then Mr. Mahenili turned the car into the spacious Garden-of-Eden-like grounds of the Royal Poinciana Hotel. Mrs. Brewster and the twins walked down to the beach. Biff, his father, and their Hawaiian friend went into the hotel.
The manager of the Royal Poinciana received the two men and Biff in his office. Biff looked at his father.
“Go ahead, Biff. This was your idea.”
“Sir,” Biff said, addressing the manager, “I wonder if you could find out if Dr. Weber usually had his breakfast in his room since he’s been here?”
“Easily, young man. Won’t take a minute.” The manager picked up the telephone on his desk.
“And would you ask if he had breakfast there yesterday morning?”
The manager nodded his head and spoke into the phone. He asked both questions Biff had suggested, nodded his head, and replaced the phone on its cradle.
“No real help there. Sometimes he called for breakfast service; sometimes not. Yesterday morning, room service reports, there was no call from Suite 210-11 – that’s where Dr. Weber was staying.”
“Well, one more thing.” Biff continued his role of detective. “Would the same maids who were on duty yesterday be on duty this morning?”
“I’ll check that with the floor supervisor. I think I know what your question will be – had Dr. Weber’s bed been slept in?”
Biff smiled. “That’s right, sir.”
Again the manager placed his call and asked his questions.
“The floor supervisor will call back as soon as she’s checked. Only take a minute or two. While we wait, let me extend my welcome to Hawaii to you. I regret that this most unfortunate situation has come about. But I’m sure Dr. Weber will be found.”
“Thank you,” Thomas Brewster said. “I hope you are right.”
The telephone rang.
“Yes. Yes. I see. Thank you.” The manager replaced the phone. “The supervisor says the maid who takes care of that suite said Dr. Weber’s bed had not been slept in Monday night.”
Biff looked from his father to Mr. Mahenili. Nothing was said for a moment. Then Mr. Brewster spoke.
“Any more questions, Biff?”
“No, sir. Can’t think of anything else, Dad. Not now.”
“Well, we have established the fact that Dr. Weber must have disappeared sometime on Monday,” Mr. Brewster said.
“That was the day he telephoned you, wasn’t it, Dad?” Biff asked.
“Yes. I talked to him late in the afternoon. Here, that would have been around noon, Hawaii time. I know he was calling from this hotel. So, we can pinpoint his disappearance from sometime between noon Monday, to early Monday night. The doctor always retired early.”
“Thank you very much for your cooperation, Mr. Pierson,” Mr. Mahenili said. With Biff and his father, he arose and left the manager’s office.
They walked out into the bright sunlight and across a broad patio, hedged in by flame-colored flowers. The beach of Waikiki was right in front of them. As they walked toward it to find Mrs. Brewster and the twins, the swarthy man with the camera who had been at the airport earlier, stepped from behind a palm tree and watched them go.
CHAPTER VI
The Letter
Hanale Mahenili had driven only a short distance from the Royal Poinciana when Monica, in the rear seat of the convertible, let out a howl.
“Monica! Whatever in the world!” her mother said.
“My lei! My lei! I left it on the beach!” Monica wailed.
“Knew you would,” her brother Ted said, in his I-told-you-so voice.
Mr. Mahenili turned to Tom Brewster and smiled. “That’s easily taken care of. We can get them anywhere along here.”
He pulled the car over to the curb in front of a charming hotel constructed of red and white coral. Just to the left of the entrance to the hotel’s palm-studded grounds, sat an old woman surrounded by flowers of every color and species. The woman was seated in a high-backed chair, made of coconut fronds, with her feet in a tub filled with pink, red, and yellow buds. A flame-red hibiscus was stabbed in her topknot. She was a plump Hawaiian woman, dressed in a flowered muumuu the island adaptation of the mother-hubbard dress introduced many years ago by New England missionaries.
The old woman’s brown, deeply lined face cracked into a smile as the Brewsters got out of the car.
Mr. Mahenili spoke to her in the musical words of the native Hawaiian. The old woman’s deft hands grasped a long, slender lei needle, and her hands seemed to fly as she swiftly threaded at least a hundred flowers into a beautiful garland.
“This lei,” Mr. Mahenili explained, “is being made of the plumeria. You see,” he picked up one of the flowers, “it has five petals. Smell it.”
Mrs. Brewster took the flower. “My, that’s lovely! It seems to me I’ve been smelling this lovely scent ever since we’ve been here.”
“You have. This blossom is highly perfumed. It makes our island the sweetest smelling place in the world.”
The old woman had finished. She arose and draped the newly made lei around Monica’s neck. “For the nani keiki,” she said.
“That means for the ‘beautiful child.’”
Monica blushed, but her smile showed her pleasure.
“Thank you,” she said, dipping her head.
Mr. Mahenili handed the woman some money.
“Mahalo, mahalo,” she said.
“And now she’s saying, ‘Thank you,’ to us,” Hank Mahenili explained.
Half an hour later, following a thrilling ride up the twisting road running over the pali, the cliffs, of the Koolau Mountain range, they dropped swiftly down to sea level again on the north side of the island. A short run along broad, curving beaches, and they arrived at the Mahenilis’ beach-front home on Waimanalo Bay.
The warmth and gracious hospitality of the Mahenili family made the Brewsters feel at home immediately. The Mahenilis’ son, Likake, fifteen, and Biff were old friends within an hour of their meeting. Little Wikolia Mahenili was just Monica and Ted’s age, but quite a bit smaller. She considered the twins her personal property and showed them around with great pride.
There was only one cloud to mar the Brewsters’ sky-high happiness. Dr. Johann Weber was still missing.
Late in the second afternoon of the Brewsters’ stay in Honolulu, Biff and Likake were swimming when Biff saw his father come down to the beach and hail him.
“Let’s go, Li!” Biff called, and the boys rode a breaker back to the shore.
“Hi, Dad. You want me?” Water dripped off Biff’s tanned body. Likake, his round brown face with its usual eager expression, stood beside him.
“I want you to get dressed, now, son. I’d like you to come to the dinner and evening session of our meeting,” Mr. Brewster said.
“You bet, Dad. Wouldn’t miss it for anything. This is the night you speak, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Tom Brewster smiled. “But that isn’t the main reason for my wanting you there. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Okay, Dad. May Likake come along?”
“Surely. Mr. and Mrs. Mahenili are coming. The little ones will stay at home.”
Likake had gone on ahead.
“What’s it all about, Dad? Something to do with Dr. Weber?” Biff asked.
“Not exactly, Biff. But I think there’s going to be a man at the dinner tonight I want you to get a look at. There could be a connection between him and Dr. Weber’s disappearance.”
“Is it that man, Perez Something-or-other – the one you mentioned when you got that phone call at home?”
“He’s the man, Biff.”
Biff’s brows were knitted in thought.
“Dad, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do,” Biff interrupted. “Is it all right if I do a little snooping after you speak? You’ll be at the reception and dance. I’ve got an idea. And Likake said he’d help me.”
“Snooping, son? When trained detectives are on the job? This is a vacation, and I want you to enjoy it. But there’s no reason why you and Likake can’t nose about a bit. Don’t do anything foolish, though.”
The dinner was over. Biff had tried not to stare too hard nor too long at the husky, shifty-eyed man at the next table. Perez Soto! Biff sensed the sheer physical power of the man, and he shuddered involuntarily. This was no opponent to treat lightly. He couldn’t help thinking: Biff Brewster, take warning!
The chairman rapped for order. Guests at the head table were introduced, then the chairman turned to Thomas Brewster.
“We are very happy tonight,” the chairman said, “to have so distinguished a speaker with us. You all know him. You all know of the many contributions he has made in our field. I refer, of course, to the chief field engineer of the Ajax Mining Company, Mr. Thomas Brewster.”
Mrs. Brewster smiled proudly at her husband.
Tom Brewster arose. His talk was short, direct, and crisply delivered. He received an ovation when he concluded.
Biff looked at Likake and winked. The two boys slipped away from the table unnoticed.
Outside the hotel, Biff asked, “Which way?”
“The Poinciana’s just a short walk from here. We’ll go in the back way – through the garden.”
“You’re sure it’s all right? This bellboy is a good friend of yours?” Biff inquired.
“Sure. I know Hale real well. His brother, Kioni, and I go to Kamehameha School. That’s a school only for boys and girls of Hawaiian ancestry. We’re almost like blood brothers.”
The night was moonlit. Palm leaves rustled under a gentle breeze. The steady murmur of the surf was clear in the night air.
Biff and Likake reached the garden of the Royal Poinciana.
“Hale told me he would fix it so the deck door of Dr. Weber’s room would be open. Come on,” Li said.
The boys walked boldly through the hotel’s garden. Biff knew better than to try to hide their presence. To do so would attract attention, and that was just what he didn’t want to do.
They mounted the stairs to the hotel’s second floor, and walked along the deck until they reached Dr. Weber’s room.
Hale had done his job. The door was open. Biff entered the room. Likake, his heart pounding, was right on his heels.
The room was faintly lighted by the moonlight from outside. Biff paused in the middle of the room to allow his eyes to become accustomed to the dim light.
Then he started his search. Ever since the call to Indianapolis, Biff had wondered about the letter mentioned during the conversation. His father had said, “Forget it,” but Biff hadn’t been able to. The letter had to mean something. Where would a man like Dr. Weber hide a letter? Biff asked himself. He felt certain that Dr. Weber had been kidnaped, but he didn’t think the abductors had the letter. If they did, then why were they holding the doctor?
“Course, I could be all wrong,” Biff told himself. But he didn’t think he was.
“Likake. Li. Come here,” Biff whispered and was startled to hear Li’s voice right back of him.
“I am here. Right with you.” Li sounded scared, Biff thought.
“Okay. You take the bathroom. It’s a letter we’re looking for. I’ll take the bedroom, then we’ll both search this room.”
The boys made a swift, but thorough search. Nothing in the bathroom. Nothing in the bedroom.
“Now where do we look?” Li asked.
“You take that side of the room. I’ll start by the hall door.”
Biff’s search started at the telephone table. Nothing in the drawers. But there wouldn’t be, Biff told himself. Too obvious a place. He started to leave the table, and, glancing down, saw that the table must have been left in the same condition it had been in on the day of the call. Crumbs of tobacco were scattered on the tabletop. Several burned matches were in an ash-tray. The doctor’s tobacco pouch lay at the base of the lamp. Biff picked it up idly, looking about the room for the next spot to search.
Standing there, swinging the pouch by its draw-string, he thought he heard paper crackle. He stood motionless, halting the swing of the pouch. He strained his ears. Nothing. He tossed the pouch back on the table. Again he heard the slight sound of paper crinkling.
Biff snatched the pouch up again. He opened the pouch. His hand darted in it and dug deeply in the tobacco. Paper! His fingers weren’t wrong. He withdrew the paper and held it close to his eyes. It was a letter, all right.
“Biff! Biff! Look out!” Li shouted.
Biff turned just in time to see a figure leap at him.
CHAPTER VII
An Important Find
Biff sidestepped quickly. His attacker’s charge struck him a glancing blow, spinning him around. He stumbled backward, almost losing his footing.
In the dim light, Biff saw the man turn and crouch, ready to charge again. This time, Biff met charge with charge. The man came at him low. Biff hurled his body at the attacker even lower. He threw a bone-crushing football block at the man’s knees. The attacker was upended, his head striking the floor, his legs flying upward as if he were diving.
Biff leaped to his feet.
“Come on, Biff!” Li called from the open doorway.
Biff sprang for the door, hurdling over his attacker lying on the floor. He felt sure he had cleared him when a hand snaked up and grabbed Biff by one ankle. Biff crashed to the floor, stretched out, his head pointing toward Li, who was standing in the doorway in dismay.
Rising on one knee, Biff tried to jerk his ankle free. The man held on with a viselike grip. Biff thought fast.
“Here, Li! Catch!” He tossed Dr. Weber’s tobacco pouch to his friend. It fell at Li’s feet. “Grab it, Li! Grab it, and scram. I’ll be all right.”
Li bent over and snatched up the tobacco pouch. He stood in the doorway, hesitating.
“Don’t wait!” Biff called fiercely. “Get out of here fast.”
Li, shocked by the sudden violence, was confused. He felt he should stay and help his friend. But Biff had ordered him out. Apparently the important thing was to escape with the tobacco pouch. He turned, shot through the door, and ran swiftly, silently, along the porch.
Biff now turned his full attention to freeing himself. He knew he would have to make his getaway fast. Someone in the hotel was certain to have heard the sounds of violence coming from the room. This was no time for an investigation. Biff knew that he was as much of a prowler as his attacker.
The attacker changed his tactics. Now he wanted to get free of Biff.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Biff muttered, and threw his arms around the man’s legs. He knew that Li was now the attacker’s prey. Li and the tobacco pouch.
Biff held on. The man, struggling to remain upright, struck down savagely at the base of Biff’s skull. Biff rolled, avoiding the paralyzing blow.
The attacker, freed of Biff’s grasp, leaped for the door. Biff was on his feet, right behind him. Reaching the door, Biff saw the man dash for the steps. Instead of following immediately, Biff decided to wait a moment. Surely Li had gotten clear. Li knew the grounds of the hotel well. He’d be able to avoid capture, make a clean getaway with the pouch and its valuable letter.
When the attacker was out of sight, down the stairs, Biff stepped out onto the porch. He straightened his jacket. He wanted to look like a guest of the hotel if anyone stopped him. From behind he heard the sounds of someone banging on the corridor door.
“The time has come,” he said to himself, “for me to make my departure from this charming hostelry.” He walked unhurriedly toward the stairs. Once there, though, he dashed down them, taking three steps at a time. In moments, he was concealed behind a spreading poinciana shrub.
Biff stood silently. He strained his ears for any sound, the sound of either Li or his attacker. Only the soft rustling of palm fronds came to his ears. He decided to move out. Taking great care to remain in the cover of trees and shrubs – the moonlight was brilliant – Biff moved cautiously through the garden. He decided against returning the same way he and Li had come. He felt sure that his attacker had followed them from the hotel where his father had spoken. The man might figure the boys would return to the hotel. He’d be waiting for them there, Biff reasoned.
“Sure hope Li figures it the way I have,” Biff told himself.
Biff walked in the opposite direction. He came to the edge of the garden. The street was only a few feet away. A few feet, but those few feet were open space, no cover, unprotected from the view of others.
“I’ll just have to chance it,” Biff said softly. He planned to dash across the opening, run down the street, and hope to find a cruising taxicab.
Biff tensed. He thought he heard a noise behind him. It sounded like a small twig snapping. He turned his head slowly. He didn’t want a second attack from behind that night. Now he felt positive that someone was moving in the shrubbery nearby.
Then he heard it, softly, barely audible above the noise of the rustling leaves and nearby surf.
“Biff!”
Biff let out his held breath in a deep sigh of relief.
“Right here, Li,” he called.
His Hawaiian friend emerged from behind a tree and joined him.
“You all right, Biff? You hurt?” Li asked anxiously.
“Me? No. Not even shaken up. But how about you? And the tobacco pouch. You’ve still got it?”
Li nodded his head, extending a hand with the pouch in it.
“Swell, Li. Great. How did you get away? Did that guy try to follow you?”
“He tried to follow all right. But I fooled him. I kept just far enough ahead of him so he could hear me. I made little noises.” Biff could see Li’s grin in the moonlight. “So I could lead him away. I wanted to be sure you got away okay.”
“Pretty smart, Li. But how did you finally shake him off?”
“I led him way to the rear of the garden. Then I quit making any noise. I moved like a cat, circled around, and headed for here. I sort of figured you wouldn’t try to get back to the other hotel.”
“Good figuring. You and I are going to make a great team. But I think we’d better get out of here fast before ‘Nosy’ figures the same way we did. Where would be the best place to get a cab?”
“Just follow me.” Li turned, and instead of heading for the street, he plunged back into the garden. He led Biff along the edge of the garden, until they came to a low hedge fence, the rear boundary of the Poinciana’s grounds. Li leaped over it, Biff following. Then the Hawaiian boy cut to his right, and in a few moments, they jumped another hedge into another formal garden.
“Where are we now?” Biff asked in a whisper.
“This is the garden of the Aloha Hale – that means Aloha House. It’s a small hotel. We can find a taxi right out front. Come on.”
They moved noiselessly through the garden, and emerged on the lighted street just to the left of the hotel’s entrance. They were lucky. A taxicab was waiting at its stand. The boys quickly hopped in.
Biff sat back. Relief came to him, and he suddenly realized how much his recent exertions had taken out of him.
“Wowie! Am I ever glad to get out of that.”
“Me, too, Biff. Where do we go? Back to the hotel, or home?”
“To your house. I told Dad we’d take a cab back.”
Li gave the driver instructions.
Biff looked at the luminous dial of his watch.
“Jeepers! Do you know it’s been two hours since we left the hotel! Seems like only minutes.”
Tom Brewster and Hank Mahenili were still up when the boys reached home.
“Well, we were beginning to wonder what had happened to you two,” Tom Brewster said.
“Plenty, Dad,” Biff said, smiling.
“It looks like it.” His father was looking at Biff’s rumpled white jacket. One shoulder of it bore a smudge where he had landed on the green carpet of Dr. Weber’s room.
“We had a little adventure,” Biff said. “More than we expected.”
“You’re all right, Li?” Hank Mahenili asked, a worried look on his face.
“Sure, Dad. It was Biff who had the fight.”
“Fight?” Tom Brewster stood up. “Just what happened, son?”
Biff gave his father and Hank Mahenili a fast fill-in on the night’s adventure.
“But we got what we were looking for,” he concluded. Biff reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out Dr. Weber’s tobacco pouch. He took out the crumpled letter.
“This has a New Zealand postmark on it. I think it’s that letter you talked to Dr. Weber about when he called you back in Indianapolis. I haven’t read it, though. Thought you might not want me to know what’s in it.”
Thomas Brewster took the letter. He read it rapidly, then reread it. His frown showed how deep his concentration was. Without a word, he handed the letter to Mahenili. The Hawaiian read it.