Hawaiian Sea Hunt Mystery

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.”