Dying for a Daiquiri (12 page)

“I wanted to talk to you,” I said. “Is this a bad time?”

Timmy turned his back to me. He shoved a brown paper-wrapped parcel into a canvas knapsack. He threw the bag into a small storage locker, attached a silver padlock to the door and clicked it shut.

He swung around, a tiny crescent-shaped scar on his cheekbone flashing white under his angry gaze.

“Fo’ what you want with me?”

I wanted answers. Lots of them. If only I could think of questions that wouldn’t upset this intimidating young man. I knew our time alone together was limited so I decided to barge ahead.

“I understand you knew Keiki, the girl found dead near Daiquiri Dave’s Lounge.”

“Yeah, so. She popular girl.” He smirked. “Lotsa guys knew that one.”

So I was finding out. I just hoped my brother wasn’t a member of Keiki’s fan club.

“I’m only interested in one guy. Your brother. I heard Keiki used to date him.”

Timmy’s face darkened and his hands balled into fists. “Ya, dat bitch, she use him den dump him.”

“Used him how?”

“She had dis “
lolo
” crazy idea for making dem both rich. She ask him…” Timmy abruptly stopped.

“Ask him what?”

“Nuttin. At least nuttin to do with her dyin.” He raised his voice and shook his fist in the air. “I know she da reason my bruddah kill hisself.”

“You don’t think it was an accident?”

Timmy stuck his nose so close to mine I could see the two lone hairs he’d missed when he’d shaved his chin. “My bruddah, he good kid. Careful about his work. Maybe it was accident. But maybe Joey kill hisself cause of dat no good
wahine
. It none of your business, so don’t go poking your nose where it don’t belong.”

Footsteps pounded down the stairs. Amanda motioned at us. “It’s getting rougher out. We need both of you up here.”

I’d been so distracted by our conversation I hadn’t even noticed the ship pitching more than ever. I tightened my sarong and followed Timmy as he raced up the stairs. Earlier the clouds had provided a postcard photo opportunity. Now they dumped rain by the boatload.

Amanda shoved a pile of orange life vests at me. “Here. Pass these out to the passengers. Be careful not to scare them. Tell them it’s merely a safety measure.”

Fine. I had no problem reassuring the passengers. But who was going to reassure
me
?

Amanda and Walea covered one side of the boat and I took the other. Once they finished, the two women urged the passengers to follow them below deck. I handed out my last orange vest then realized I’d been so generous passing life jackets to the passengers that I’d neglected to don one myself.

I looked around and thought I saw Steve running down the stairs to the lower deck but it was difficult to tell with the driving rain. Someone better be piloting this boat. Maybe Rafe had taken over for him. Farther up on the starboard side, I noticed Timmy bending over some type of storage chest. I hustled over and tapped him on his shoulder.

I had to scream above the roaring wind to make myself heard. “Where are the other life jackets located?” He scowled but pointed toward the rear of the boat, so I scurried in that direction.

By now, my sarong felt like a wet shower curtain was plastered to my skin. The straps of my sandals irritated my bunions so I slipped them off and tucked them under a seat. It would be more comfortable moving around the boat without them. A few seconds later, my bare feet slipped on the wet deck. Comfort came at a price. I inched my way across the slippery surface with a death grip on the railing.

How quickly this romantic sunset sail had morphed into a nightmare journey. The lights from the hotels and condominiums lining the shoreline were barely visible through the king-size sheets of rain.

I stumbled on a thick coil of rope and caught myself before I landed on all fours. Whew. That was close. I’d better find those vests and get below to safety.

The remaining orange jackets hung on a couple of hooks. I sidled over and grabbed one for myself. Getting the vest closed over my double D’s was a struggle. Someone needed to manufacture a version for the full-figured woman. I finally secured both fasteners and let out a sigh of relief.

I heard a muffled noise behind me just as I grabbed the other two vests. Suddenly I was knocked into the ship’s railing. I released my hold on one of the life jackets and tried to grasp onto the slick metal rail.

The boat pitched and I felt another jolt.

Then I was airborne.

I hit the ocean with a cannonball splash. Water flew everywhere, including into my nose and mouth.

“Blech.” I spewed out a magnum’s worth of seawater. I would need a daiquiri the size of a Big Gulp to wash that salty taste away. Good thing I was wearing the life jacket, which kept my tablecloth sarong from slipping off and floating away. Not that it mattered. It was far more likely a shark would turn me into a sushi appetizer than I’d get arrested for indecent exposure.

I stared at the distant lights. Although they were probably only a few miles away, it could have been a few thousand as far as I was concerned. The odds of me successfully paddling to shore were slimmer than of me winning an Olympic gold medal. I yelled until my vocal cords refused to participate, but the
Sea Jinx
continued to recede in the distance. No one would hear me now.

Which made me wonder––did anyone see me go overboard?

My stomach lurched. Not from the churning waves, but from the terrifying question––how did I end up in the ocean? Did a heavy gust knock me over the railing? Or did someone push me?

An important question that needed an answer. But it would have to wait until I resolved the more pressing issue.

How the heck would I get back to shore?

The
Sea Jinx
continued to motor toward the bay and away from me. The only people who might notice my absence were Steve, who was undoubtedly intent on getting his passengers safely back to the pier, and the tipsy Australian whom I’d promised a Mai Tai refill.

My face felt wet from the salt water splashing my chin, combined with the salty tears rolling down my cheeks. I wiped my eyes with my damp fist. This was no time to feel sorry for myself.

If only I had my cell with me. I could have used my iPhone to call for help and the GPS to find my way. And maybe I’d finally have time to finish the e-book I was reading while I waited for help to arrive.

I shook my soggy curls. The salt air must have invaded my brain. I clasped my hands together and prayed to whichever Hawaiian god could turn off this massive spigot of rain.

I wasn’t sure if any of the local gods heard my plea, but the rain halted as abruptly as it had begun. The ominous storm clouds shifted apart and a brilliant full moon shone upon the dark water. The man in the moon had never looked so appealing.

A faint noise caught my attention. I squinted and spotted what looked like a small boat heading in my direction. Hallelujah.

I would be rescued in minutes. Unless––

Suddenly I realized the boat aimed directly at me. I waved my arms back and forth and shrieked louder than a stadium full of Justin Bieber fans. Within seconds, the roar of the motor ratcheted down to a purr.

The lights on the twenty-foot vessel blasted me in the face and I screamed again. The boat shuddered and stopped less than six feet away.

I heard someone yell, “Man overboard.”

Technically, he was wrong, but this didn’t seem the time to go all
women’s lib
on him.

“Help,” I yelled. I paddled and thrashed my way to safety. No one would ever compare me to Michael Phelps, but I reached the side of the boat without anyone having to dive in and rescue me.

A long hairy arm reached out. I grabbed on to a calloused palm and gratefully let its owner yank me into the boat. Unfortunately, he wasn’t completely successful in his mission.

Maybe it was time to lay off those cream-filled
malasadas
.

With my torso stretched across the interior of the boat and my legs dangling over the side, the men decided more assistance was in order. They each grabbed one of my arms and successfully hauled me aboard.

Not a minute too soon. The sound of an enormous fish bouncing its snout against the side of the boat startled us. I stared as the grandson of Jaws displayed a set of teeth that would have scared my dentist into retirement. He flipped his sleek body around, and with one last flick of his fin against our boat, swam away.

I lost it. I stuck my head over the side of the boat and heaved everything I’d consumed that day. Including those macadamia nut pancakes.

One of the men handed me a handkerchief from his shorts pocket. “You are one lucky
wahine
.”

I threw him a weak smile as I wiped my face. “I’m luckier than I was a few minutes ago. You saved my life.”

“Probably. You were this close to being that fella’s dinner.” His wizened face cracked into what probably represented a smile for him. He reached into a small cabinet and handed me a thin blanket. “Here. The water temp isn’t that cold, but we don’t want you going into shock.”

I was already shivering so I gratefully wrapped the wool blanket around my sodden body.

My other rescuer started the engine and we headed toward the pier.

“By the way, my name is Glenn Hakanson,” said the man sitting next to me. He pointed to the gray-bearded man at the wheel. “And that’s Phil. Now who are you and how in the blazes did you end up in the ocean?”

I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to run into the fishermen before they ran into me. It turned out that Glenn and Phil had been so successful hooking a big fish that they’d stayed out later than usual and then got caught in the sudden storm. I not only bonded with the men but also with their other chunky passenger. The dead tuna glared at me as if he held me personally responsible for Glenn and Phil turning him into someone’s ahi dinner.

As we motored toward the pier, I noticed a large boat that looked a lot like the
Sea Jinx
heading in our direction. Someone must have noticed my absence after all. Glenn got on the radio and within a few minutes, he’d connected with Steve. They decided the fishermen would deliver me directly to the pier, which they considered a safer option than handing me off at sea. I was in favor of anything that lessened the odds of me landing in the ocean again.

We arrived at the Kailua Pier shortly after the
Sea Jinx
docked. Several Hawaii fire department vehicles were parked in the loading and unloading area. Although it was reassuring to know they’d noticed my absence, I still questioned if someone intentionally pushed me overboard. If Phil and Glenn hadn’t come along when they did, my shark-mangled body parts might not have been discovered until they rolled in with the surf.

Glenn tied up his boat, the aptly named
Survivor
, at the dock. He and Phil helped me climb up onto the pier. The Sea Jinx passengers were disembarking, some of them looking a lot greener than when they’d first boarded. As we drew closer, I spotted Timmy among the departing tourists. I shouted his name. Timmy turned and his eyebrows rose to his hairline when he saw me. He ran off and disappeared behind the ticket building.

At the sound of my voice, Steve looked up, his expression confused. When he recognized the curly-haired woman dressed like a soggy burrito, he dodged around the passengers and ran toward the three of us. Steve scooped me up in a hug and spun me around the dock.

When he finally put me down, he kept my still-trembling hand gripped in his large comforting one. “I was so worried about you. What happened?”

Members of the Search and Rescue team joined us. “Are you okay, Miss? Do you need to go to the hospital? We can get you there in a flash.”

I shook my head and droplets of water spewed everywhere, making me feel as attractive as a wet dog. Between my salt-water dunking and over-the-side stomach cleansing, I looked and smelled worse than a sodden Schnauzer.

“I’m fine.” No sooner had I uttered those words then I sneezed three times.

“You should get checked out.” One of the men eyed me up and down. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell in?”

My eyebrows drew together as I frowned at him. “I didn’t
fall
in. I was pushed.”

Steve dropped my hand. “Pushed? What makes you say that? I assumed you slipped on the deck and fell overboard.”

“Nope, I was definitely pu…” I hesitated and thought back to those moments before I ended up in the ocean. “Well, I think someone pushed me. It’s all kind of a blur now.”

“You’ve had quite a scare,” said one of the rescue workers. “It might be a few days before you remember what actually happened.”

“You’re lucky these fishermen found you,” his partner added. “It could have taken us hours to locate you. There are some mighty unfriendly creatures in the ocean.”

As far as I was concerned, there were
unfriendly
creatures on Steve’s boat. Although I’d have to admit I’m not the most graceful person in the world. A big gust could have blown me overboard.

But if that was the case, why did Timmy run away when he spotted me?

The rescue personnel walked away to update the Coast Guard on my safe return. I spun around and scanned the pier. Most of the passengers had dispersed, but the crew and entertainers should still be around.

“Have you seen Walea and Henry?” I asked Steve.

“I think they’re packing up their stuff. Do you want to talk to them now?” he asked. “Don’t you want to get back to the hotel and get cleaned up?”

Hmmm. Not too subtle. I guess my
eau de ahi
scent wasn’t exactly a man magnet. I noticed Walea and Henry walking down the gangway. Her hands moved rapidly as she spoke, although not in the graceful style she used when she performed. It looked like they were arguing.

I broke away from Steve and ran toward the couple, huffing as I drew closer. My few minutes thrashing in the ocean must have depleted my oxygen supply.