“Hiding him? Why would I do that?”
“Why, indeed.”
“Well, I’m not hiding him. Dammit, he was never here!”
“You had better not be lying to me, Mr. Millay.”
In a convulsive movement the rancher drained his glass, slammed it down on a side table hard enough to knock it over, and shoved onto his feet. “I’ve heard enough about matters that don’t concern me. And I don’t like to be threatened.” The bluster was still in his thickened voice, but underlying it now was a current of fear. “Either you rattle your hocks out of here or I’ll throw you out.”
Quincannon’s answer to that was a feral grin. In the tense moment that followed, there was the sudden pound of boots on the porch outside. Two pairs, one heavy, one light. A woman’s voice called “Stan? Are you in here?” just before the screen door clattered open.
Quincannon moved a few paces to one side as the newcomers entered the room. The woman, in the lead, was an older, slimmer version of Millay — fair-skinned, her sun-bleached hair tucked inside a cowboy hat decorated with a hibiscus band. The hard-eyed man behind her was native-dark, bulky, dressed as she was in rough range garb. Grace Millay and Sam Opaka.
The woman glanced at Quincannon, said to her brother, “Keole told me we have company. Who is this man?”
“His name’s Quincannon,” Millay said. He seemed calmer now that reinforcements had arrived, but no less defensive or truculent. And the undercurrent of fear was still present in his voice. “Detective from San Francisco. He thinks we’re harboring one of a pair of swells I met on my trip, supposed to be a confidence man.”
“Jack Vereen,” Quincannon said, “alias James A. Varner.”
“I told him I haven’t seen the man since Sunday in Hilo but he doesn’t believe me.” To Quincannon he said, “This is my sister, Grace. And our luna, Sam Opaka. Go ahead, ask them if Varner’s here or been here.”
“My brother is telling the truth,” Grace Millay said. Opaka said nothing, but his eyes, black and hard as volcanic rock, never left Quincannon’s face. “There is no one on this ranch named Varner or Vereen. Nor has there ever been, so far as I know.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“What makes you think this man came here?”
Quincannon said cannily, “The auohe, among other things.”
“Auohe? What auohe?” She sounded genuinely puzzled.
“On the coast near here.”
“I have no idea what you’re referring to. Sam? Do you?”
Opaka gave a short, sharp headshake.
“Neither do I,” Millay snapped. He had picked up the decanter from the table and was about to replenish his glass. “By God, this has gone far enough. Talking nonsense, implying we’re liars — I won’t stand for it!”
His sister said warningly, “Be quiet, Stan.”
“Why should I? I don’t want anything more to do with this damn flycop. I think we ought to kick his okole off our land. Sam and me, right now.”
“I told you to be quiet. And put that decanter down. You’ve had enough to drink.”
“The hell I have.”
“More than enough.” She nodded to Opaka. “Sam.”
The luna moved for the first time. He caught hold of Millay’s arm with one hand, the decanter with the other. He said softly, “Miss Grace say pau, Mr. Stanton.”
Millay started to argue, but when Opaka tightened his grip, the handsome features went lax and he subsided. He ran his tongue over dry lips, his gaze lowering, and allowed the luna to prod him from the room.
Grace Millay said, “We’ll go out on the lanai, Mr. Quincannon. It’s cooler there.” And when they were outside in the shade of the monkeypod, “You must excuse my brother. He is... high-strung and inclined to be belligerent when he drinks too much.”
Weak and easily manipulated were more apt descriptions of Stanton Millay. All fuss and feathers, with very little sand; anyone who showed him strength, man or woman, could back him down. Prime prey for the likes of Vereen and Nagle. It was little wonder, Quincannon thought, that Millay chose to leave the ranch for long periods whenever he could. Only in the vice dens of Nuuanu Avenue, Chinatown, and the Barbary Coast would he be able to convince himself and others of his manhood.
He asked, “Does he always drink so heavily during the day?”
“No. At least, not here on the ranch.”
“Why now, then?”
“I have no idea, unless it has something to do with the man you’re looking for. He hasn’t drawn a sober breath since he returned on Monday.”
“Returned alone?”
“Alone, yes. What sort of criminal is this man Vereen?”
“The opportunistic sort,” Quincannon told her. “He and his partner suit their chicanery to the person or persons they’re aiming to fleece. Their specialty is confidence games involving stocks and bonds.”
“That doesn’t apply to Stanton. He has neither, nor any interest in such matters. Nor have I.”
“It isn’t clear yet what kind of swindle they tailored to your brother. Something to do with a cloak or clock, perhaps. Does that suggest anything to you?”
She shook her head. “Were they able to fleece him?”
“I can’t say yet. He claims he had no business dealings with them.”
“But you think otherwise.”
“I have good reason to,” Quincannon said. “You seem to have a strong influence with him, Miss Millay. Can you convince him to be candid with you?”
“Not if he’s done something illegal or immoral and a substantial amount of money is involved. The amount would be substantial, I suppose?”
“Yes. Vereen and his partner would not have traveled all the way to Hawaii otherwise.”
“Isn’t it possible my brother was not their... target? That they had another, someone who resides in Hilo?”
“Anything is possible,” Quincannon admitted. “But from all indications your brother was their mark. If they did manage to bilk him, any verifiable amount of money or goods I recover will be returned, of course.”
“Of course.” Her smile was thin and skeptical. She was a handsome woman, as Abner Bannister had said, but in a severe way. A woman hardened by the land and by her responsibilities, cynical and tenacious, who would do whatever she felt necessary to protect her own. “Tell me, why did you mention an auohe on the coast nearby?”
He decided to be straightforward with her. “The word was written on a map of the island Vereen’s partner had in his possession.”
“Just the word? No specific place?”
“No.”
“I suppose it could refer to the ruins of an old heiau, but I can’t imagine why. You know what a heiau is?”
“I do. As a matter of fact I stopped for a look at those ruins before I came here.”
“Then you know there is nothing there that would interest a pair of crooks,” Grace Millay said. “Do you believe that Vereen is not and never has been here at the ranch?”
Quincannon was not convinced, but he said, “I have no choice but to take your word for it.”
“You’re welcome to search the house and the ranch buildings.”
“That won’t be necessary.” The invitation alone convinced him the effort would be futile.
“Well, then. If you’re satisfied Vereen is not here, then my brother must have been telling the truth about last seeing him in Hilo.”
“So it would seem.”
“You’ll be going there, then?”
“Hilo, yes,” he lied. “As soon as possible.”
“That would have to be tomorrow. As late as it is, you may as well spend the night here — we have guest quarters out back. With an early start you’ll reach Kailua in time to catch the afternoon steamer.”