Michael G. Malaghan
Special to The Hawai‘i Herald

PART ONE: DAY OF INFAMY

December 7, 1941 (continued from Oct. 4, 2019)

The breezes of Püowaina, the “hill of sacrifice” that the locals referred to simply as “Punchbowl,” swept scents of plumeria blossoms through the open kitchen louvers of the FBI director’s home. The sun sparkled off of the dew clinging to the lime-hued banana tree leaves hanging over the back porch.

Inside, a young girl hovered over the kitchen stove, keeping one eye trained on the sparrows fluttering beneath the bird feeder’s deep-slanted roof, which was designed to keep out curious pigeons. Her almost-dry hair shimmered all the way to her shoulders and her Jane Wyman bangs bounced against her forehead when she walked fast, as she often did. Her marigold-colored dress caressed her calves and the double-stitched hem of her sleeves reached halfway to her elbows.

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