Maui Widow Waltz (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) (8 page)

“Daddy, please don’t talk like
that.” Her tone was pleading. “Brad’s okay. I know he’ll be back in time for
the wedding.”

“You could be right, sweetheart,
but I’m somewhat of an expert on what they call ‘the law of the jungle.’ My
money’s on your boy sleeping with the fishes—or most likely
feeding
the
fishes.”

Lisa Marie visibly sagged, but
didn’t say anything. I was amazed at Marv’s cavalier attitude, especially if
he’d played a role in Brad’s death.

Marv grabbed Tina’s arm and steered
her outside toward an over-loaded luggage cart waiting by the door. Everyone
else followed.

On eyeing the small mountain of
suitcases, I leaned in to Lisa Marie and whispered, “How long are your dad and
stepmom planning to stay?”

“Just until Friday morning. Daddy’s
got an early tee time at Pebble Beach on Saturday.”

Just five days. Ever since Kevin’s
tip-off meeting that morning, I’d been nervous about meeting Marv Prescott. But
in the flesh I found him—and Tina—oddly fascinating. And, aside from the
missing groom, the wedding was proceeding without a hitch. Sucking up to Marv
for a few days seemed perfectly doable.

At about noon the entourage piled
into two highly polished black Mercedes and headed for Olu’olu. I followed them
out of the parking lot. Driving up Baldwin toward Hali’imaile I remembered what
waited for me at home:  multiple loads of laundry, a sticky kitchen floor,
and a lawn that had ‘vacant house’ written all over it. I sagged. I’m not a
lazy person, but living in overdrive for nearly a week had sapped my energy. I
added a quick nap to the list. 

I started to turn into my driveway
but two vehicles blocked my way—a late model red Ram pick-up and a dark green
Jeep Grand Cherokee. The garage door was open and Steve’s Jetta was parked
inside. So much for getting chores done, it looked like we had company. But
who? Maybe it was appraisers or potential buyers sniffing around now that word
of the foreclosure was making the rounds. I did a three-point turn and parked
across the street.  

I’d made it about halfway up the
porch steps when raucous laughter erupted from the living room. Two pair of
black leather shoes were lined up to the right of the door along with Steve’s
flipflops. The shoes were the heavy lace-up kind working men wear. Were Steve
and Hatch inside yukking it up with the vultures circling the kill? It was all
I could do to force a smile as I stepped inside.

“Hey, she’s home,” Steve said,
coming over to escort me in. Two brawny men stood by the sofa—one tall, one
medium height. Hatch was stretched out in his usual prone position.

Steve made the introductions.
“Pali, this is Paul and Marty. They work with Hatch at the fire department.”

“Pleasure,” said the two guys in
unison as they each gave me an index-finger salute. I looked them up and down.
I mean, who wouldn’t? Even though their height and coloring was different—one
dark, one reddish-blond—they were specimens of manhood that would do a Marine
recruiting poster proud. Broad-shoulders, well-muscled arms, intelligent
eyes—the full meal deal. Each wore navy pants and a short-sleeved blue shirt
with a Maui Fire Department patch on the sleeve. After my usual check-out
routine I looked at their left hands. Yep, a plain gold band on each. What kind
of
karma
was throwing all this unavailable testosterone at me lately? It
was as cruel as stocking a diabetic’s house with candy.

Steve said, “I’ll leave you to all
to get acquainted. I need to go down to my studio and make some prints.” He
leaned in and whispered to me, “Looks like our pal Lisa Marie’s hired a
publicist to send wedding announcements to every newspaper on the west coast.
She’s having me make up fifty copies of a rather mediocre snapshot of her with
Brad. Maybe she’s not so sure he’ll show up for the wedding after all.”

When Steve left I mumbled my
nice
to meet you’s
to the guys and turned to head upstairs.

“Hey, don’t run off,” the first
guy—was it Paul?—said. “We want to thank you for taking in Hatch.”

I turned back around.

“Oh, it’s nothing. He’s easy.”

“That he is,” said the second guy.
Everybody—but me—laughed.

I felt my cheeks heat up. I
couldn’t believe I was feeding straight lines to a trio of spoken-for firemen.

“No, really,” the second guy went
on, “it was really nice of you. We’re both married and, although we love this
guy and feel real bad about what happened, our wives pretty much have their
hands full.” 

“Can I get you something to drink?”
I said. “Maybe a soda or a beer?” I probably didn’t have either in the house,
but it seemed polite to at least offer. 

“
Mahalo
, but no,” said the
first guy. “We gotta roll. We’re expecting another crazy shift tonight.” He
turned to Hatch. “We had six big call-outs last time. One was another major
wreck at almost the same place where you went man against machine.” 

“Everybody okay?” Hatch said.

“Our guys are fine, but the driver
was a fatal. A woman no more’n thirty. ”

The mood downshifted.

“Hey,” said the second guy. “But we
got her baby out in pretty good shape. The guys on Ladder Two grabbed the
spreaders, and bam! popped that little dude outta there in no time.”

“Spreaders?” I said. I didn’t like
the sound of that.

“Yeah, extradition spreaders—you
know, ‘Jaws of Life’? We had to rip open the back door to get him out of his
car seat.”

All three guys nodded an unspoken
‘Amen.’

They talked shop for a couple of
minutes and when there was a break I said my
alohas
and started up the
stairs. Just beyond the landing, out of sight, I stopped and listened.

“You’re right, she’s nice. Maybe’s
it’s time to take the leap. How much does she know?” It was the first guy’s
voice.

Guy number two weighed in. “Yeah,
what’d you tell her?”

“Look, she’s my landlady, not a
blind date,” said Hatch.

“Still. Seems you ought to come
clean. My wife says a woman can handle anything but a lie.”

“I’m not lying, I’m being discreet.
Besides, I’ll be gone in a month and she’ll forget I was ever here.”

“I seriously doubt that, dude.”

There was a moment of silence and
then the first guy said, “We better run.”

“Thanks for stopping by,” said
Hatch. “Tell the chief I’m raring to get back.”

“Will do. And hey, you take care of
yourself, man. ”

“Yeah,” Number Two chimed in. “Get
well. My wife’s been bitching about all the overtime.”

“Since when did your ‘never met a
gold bracelet she didn’t need’ wife decide she doesn’t want you doing
overtime?”

Everyone laughed and the door
slammed a minute later.

I tiptoed up the stairs, trying to
avoid the creak on the second-to-the-last step. I wondered if Steve knew what
was going on with Hatch. Maybe I wasn’t the only one he was hiding secrets
from. But for the hundredth time, I reminded myself it was none of my business.

CHAPTER 9

M
onday
morning I called my suppliers—one more time—to confirm everyone was still on
board and things were proceeding as scheduled. My level of micro-management
borders on harassment, but everyone’s come to expect it of me. Long ago I
decided I’d rather be known as an anal retentive nag than a bridal consultant
who doesn’t deliver.

“I knew it’d be you,” Keahou said
as she picked up the phone in her Kula bakery. “Don’t worry. I’m baking the
layers tomorrow. Then I let them temper for a day; then I’ll frost it early
Thursday morning so the icing’s nice and fresh. What time you want it
delivered?”

“Two o’clock would be good.
Remember, it’s at Olu’olu.”

“Couldn’t forget that. I hope they
let me in.”

“When you get to the gate, tell
them you’re bringing the wedding cake.” As soon as it was out of my mouth, I
realized she probably could have figured that out on her own.

“Is that place really owned by some
mafia
kahuna
?”

“I don’t know. And it’s not polite
to gossip.”

“Ooh,” she said. “Touchy.”

“Sorry to snap, Keahou, but this
wedding’s been nothing but
pilikia
from day one. You know, with the dead
groom and all.”

“Yeah. Seems like a pretty
hupo
thing
they’re doing. Oh well, we need the business.”

“Yes we do.”

“Will you be down there when I
bring the cake?”

“I’ll get there around ten that
morning. And don’t worry, I’ll have your check all ready for you.”

“Good girl. This cake is going to
be
lani nui
, I promise. I have lots of time to make it extra special.”

After making all the critical
calls—cake, dress, videographer, limo—I was batting a thousand. Of course with
tourist business at a standstill all over the island only a vendor with a
family emergency—or one who’d already gone belly-up—would blow me off this
week.

The weather was finally
cooperating. Now we had long sun breaks interspersed with only quick showers. I
couldn’t be sure it’d be sunny at the time of the wedding though, so I’d
ordered a canvas canopy.

At around ten I headed over to the
Gadda-da-Vida. It was break time and I wanted something to go with my fourth
cup of coffee. I also had Farrah on my vendor list and I needed to confirm the
ceremony details and flowers. As I pushed the front door open, I heard a deep
male voice off to the right by the cash register. I halted halfway in,
straining to hear. I try to avoid bothering Farrah when she has paying
customers, but she also has a steady stream of local folks who stop by to
talk
story
, so I listened to see which this was.

“What do you think?” It was Kevin.
I recognized the deep rumble of his voice.

“I think you’re my knight in
shining Hummer,” said Farrah. Her voice had inched up a couple of octaves, just
shy of kittenish.

“Well, thanks to you, I’m feeling a
lot better about stuff,” he said. “I’m happy to return the favor.”

I stepped back onto the sidewalk
and eased the door shut, hoping to avoid rousing the tinkly bell on the door. I
didn’t need a trail-mix bar bad enough to barge into the middle of
that
.
And besides, once Kevin left, Farrah would break a leg rushing over to fill me
in on the details.

Back in my shop I scrounged through
my desk and found a shriveled piece of fruit leather and a sleeve of stale
crackers filled with a peanut butter-like substance. The coffee had grown
bitter sitting in the pot all morning—so much for my break.  

I was lifting the receiver to call
the final three names on my supplier checklist when the front door flew open.
Kevin stood in the doorway.

“Why’d you leave?” he said, closing
the door behind him. “It’s not like you were interrupting anything.”

“Oh, no problem, it wasn’t urgent.
It’s good to see you. I was expecting to see you out at the airport yesterday,
but ...” I let it trail off.

“No reason for me to be there. Can
I ask you something?”

“Sure, shoot.”

“Is there any chance I’ll find
myself legally married to Lisa Marie if I go through with this thing?”

“Good question. I’m no lawyer, but
it doesn’t seem to me you would. The marriage license was issued to Brad, and
you’re just signing as his Power of Attorney. To be safe, though, you may want
to check with an attorney.”

“You know any?”

“Lawyers? Not personally, but I can
ask around and get a recommendation.”

“Thanks. Oh, and by the way,
Farrah’s great. You know her well?”

“We’ve been best friends since
third grade.”

“She involved? I mean, does she have
a boyfriend or anything?”

“Nope—the only male in her life is
a very spoiled, mega-hyper dog. The last dude she dated took off about a year
ago. Not a happy ending.” I squinted a little stink eye his way. “Like I said,
she’s my best friend—ever. No offense, but I’m pretty protective.”

“I get it, but don’t worry. I’d
just like to get to know her a little better.” He winked and shot me his ‘good
guy’ smile. “That’s all—promise.”

 We locked stares for a moment
and he turned and grabbed the doorknob. “You won’t forget to call me about the
lawyer?”

“We’re watching each other’s backs,
right? I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve got something.”

I still had three more vendor calls
to make but I was twitching with nervous energy. I cleared off my desk and
locked up. A quick workout at PoP sounded good, but when I went out to my car
an invisible force dragged me in another direction.

I slipped through the back door of
the Gadda-da-Vida and stopped to listen for customers.

“I’ve been counting to see how long
it’d take you to get over here,” said Farrah. “I’m all the way up to two
hundred and ninety.”

“Well?” I said.

Her voice was all innocence. “Well,
what?”

I turned back toward the door.

 “Okay, okay, don’t leave.
I’ll tell you. I know you don’t believe in this stuff,” she said. “But I’m
absolutely sure Kevin and I were lovers in a former life.” She said it the way
most people would mention they’d run into someone they’d known in high school.

“I knew it as soon as I laid eyes
on him,” she continued. “He came over to buy a bottle of water while Lisa Marie
was getting measured for her wedding gown. The store wasn’t busy, so we got to
talking and I got this tingly feeling. Then last Saturday when he brought her
back for the fitting, he came over again. He seemed worried about something so
I offered to do a quick tarot reading for him. While I was laying out his
array, he came right out and said it—he said he felt like he’d met me somewhere
before.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her
I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before
was a rather stale
haole
pick-up line. I also kept my mouth shut about the two of them being a rather
odd couple—Mu’u mu’u Mama meets Gorgeous George. After all, in my business I’ve
worked with some pretty bizarre couples.   

“I told him about Tank Sherman
kicking us out and taking over our businesses.” She stopped for a dramatic
pause. 

I nodded. My mind was leaping to
conclusions, but I worked at keeping a blank face.

“And then I told him about how
important the store is to the people of Pa’ia, and how Tank is a jerk who will
probably turn it into a porno shop. Anyway, today Kevin came in and told me
he’s buying the building!”

 “He’s got two million bucks?”

“I guess so. He said he thinks it’s
a good investment.”

“But what about Tank? Noni made it sound
like the deal’s locked up.”

 “Kevin’s not worried about
that. He says he’s going to offer a little more than the asking price so the
seller will take his offer instead of Tank’s. Tank won’t care. Noni said he’s
working on a bunch of projects right now.”

 I couldn’t see Tank coolly
shrugging off losing out on a business deal, but who knows? The guy had evolved
from a laughing-stock fat kid in high school to Donald Trump-Goes-Hawaiian in
less than ten years. Nothing would surprise me.  

“Does Kevin know about Tank’s
Friday deadline?”

“Yeah, I told him. He said he’ll
get with a real estate broker tomorrow.”

“Speaking of lifestyles of the rich
and infamous, guess what I found out?”

“That Lisa Marie’s dad is stinking
rich?” said Farrah.

 “Kevin must have told you.”

“Yep. I sure pegged that wrong. I
asked Kevin why he’s doing this phony wedding for Lisa Marie and he said he
owes her a favor. It’s hard to imagine Miss All-About-Me doing anything for
anybody. What do you think’s going on?”

“Who knows? I figure the seriously
rich are just as screwed up as the rest of us—maybe more. Why’d Lindsay Lohan
take that necklace? Or Charlie Sheen rant about his tiger blood?”

I started for the door and then
stopped. “Oh, do you have a minute to go over the ceremony and flowers?”

“
Da kine
.” She pulled a
manila envelope from under the counter and opened it. Just then, a family of
four burst through the front door sending the bell into a manic tinkle. The two
kids took off for the beach toys section while the mom pulled out a grocery
list. She sent the dad on various missions for toilet paper, cereal, and milk
while she went back to referee the loud brother-sister squabble that had
erupted over which boogie board to buy.

“Uh-oh, this may take a while,”
said Farrah. “Can I get back to you later?”

We hugged a quick good-bye. I shut
the back door, pleased to hear its squeaky hinge, rather than that annoying
jingly bell out front.

As I bucked the traffic on Baldwin
on my way down to the
guan
I felt lighter than I’d felt in weeks. The
Prescotts were a peculiar bunch and the proxy marriage was a joke. But with
only three days to go until the wedding and Kevin buying our building, my
life—like the weather—was starting to feel normal again.