The Bone Field by Debra Bokur (top e book reader txt) 📕

“We’ve brought you a little something,” she said. “Coconut cake. I’m sure it’s not as good as the ones your wife used to make, but we hope you enjoy it.”

Manuel’s face lit up. “My goodness! That’s very gracious of you. I’m sure it will be delicious. Would you like to have a slice? I could make coffee.”

Hara looked hopeful.

Kali smiled. “No, but thank you. I’m afraid we can’t stay that long. We’d like to ask you about a few of the people who appear in your photos to see if you can tell us anything about them, but then we need to be on our way.”

Manuel placed the cake carefully on a table in front of his sofa and led the way through the living room and out the back door to his shady lanai, where Kali had sat with him during their first meeting.

After they made themselves comfortable, she placed the small stack of individual photos on top of the album. Hara pulled a notebook and a pen out of his duty belt and sat attentively, waiting to jot down any information that Manuel could add to the investigation.

“When I first spoke with you, you told me about the chemical companies spraying the fruit crops. Do you remember a company representative by the name of Matthew Greene who had been sent here to experiment with some new sprays to control bugs and other things that might have damaged the crops and reduced the yield?”

“Do I ever.” Manuel’s eyes grew dark. “Greene was a bully. Liked to throw his weight around, and was especially aggressive with the women. Worse, I think he knew those sprays weren’t safe. Too bad he wasn’t around to answer for all the illnesses and cancer cases that eventually popped up.”

Kali looked sideways at Hara, who was fidgeting. She tilted her chin towards him, and he turned to Manuel.

“Do you know where he went?” Hara asked.

“He skedaddled is all I know,” said Manuel, still frowning. “One day he was there, and then he was gone. The guys in suits were quiet about it. The few of us that were still around to close up the facility thought maybe he got fired, but I always thought he just got on a plane and went back to some big, showy house on the mainland. He used to brag about how big his swimming pool was. Too blind and ignorant to see the enormous ocean right at his feet.”

“And did you know anything about his wife?” Kali continued.

Manuel looked blank. “No. Can’t say I knew he was married. She must be a saint to put up with his arrogance and tormenting. If they’re still married, of course.”

“They aren’t,” said Kali. “The wife, Lily Greene, died after a prolonged illness, and Matthew Greene has been missing for a number of years. All accounts suggest he never left Lna‘i.”

This seemed to interest Manuel. He stared off into the distance for a moment, then turned back to Kali. She passed him the photo of Helen Stafford.

“What about this girl?” she asked, trying to keep the hope from her voice.

Manuel studied the image, turning it toward the light.

“Yes. I think that’s the girl who used to choose the display fruit—a few especially large pineapples with bright colors that would go to the grocery stores to be placed beside the product displays.” His brow wrinkled as he searched his memory for details. “Hannah, maybe?”

“Helen,” said Kali. “Helen Stafford.”

Manuel sat back slightly, smiling. “Oh yes—Helen! That’s right. A nice, friendly woman. Always smiling.”

“Did she work at the plantation for very long?”

“No, not that long as I remember it. She had a friend who helped with planting the crowns. Maybe her boyfriend, come to think of it. I can’t recall his name, but I remember that his hair was kind of long. He looked like a hippie, but he was nice.”

“And these girls?” asked Kali, showing him the photo of the young girls in the long blue skirts.

Manuel peered at the image, frowning. “Oh, those girls from the church. The Garden of Eden or something like that. Sure, I remember them. They were always dancing around instead of working. Most of them were only there for a short time. I think they’d run out of cash and come to work in the fields for a few days or weeks.” He took the photo from Kali. “Except the little girl. She was there longer. I think she was part of the family who ran the church. One of those other women in the picture was her mother. She worked there part-time, and used to bring the little girl with her to the plantation. She used to encourage the little girl to run around, telling everyone happy stories about their church and inviting them to come for a visit.” He thought for a moment. “Lots of people brought their kids with them, though. A couple of the kids—that little girl included—got after-school jobs when they got older.”

“What can you tell us about the people from the church?” asked Kali, watching as Hara wrote in his notebook. “Did you ever run into the founder, Abraham Waters?”

“Abraham Waters? Oh yes. I went there once to see what it was all about. It was after my wife passed away. Everyone was talking about it—a retreat that was about getting closer to God, and how the message was all about how to live in harmony with the events of your life, without allowing grief to cripple you. That appealed to me at the time. But that’s not what it was all about. And Abraham Waters? Now that’s one seriously crazy man.”

“Could you be a little more specific?”

Manuel hesitated. “Well, for starters, it wasn’t really a church. Not like a little white building with a steeple and a bell tower. It was more like a commune, or like a nice cult with yoga and live music. People all lived together on one piece of land. Waters didn’t own it, but I