Maui Widow Waltz (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) (5 page)

“
Aloha
and welcome,” said a
child-sized woman in a black maid’s uniform. “Come in. Miss Prescott be out
soon.” She slightly rolled the “r” in Lisa Marie’s last name, and that, plus
her diminutive stature, had me pegging her as a Filipino. Not that anybody
cares much about ethnicity in Hawaii. Most people pride themselves on being
what we call “poi dogs”—a mixture of this and that. Racially, everyone pretty
much gets along.

She showed me into a sunny room
with a soaring heavily-beamed ceiling and a glass wall only yards from the
crashing surf. There was a spacious flagstone lanai off to the right. I
couldn’t help but wonder what a tsunami would do to a place so close to the
water, but it certainly was a spectacular setting. A trio of rattan-sided sofas,
cushioned in a sunny yellow Hawaiian print, had been placed at a U-shape to
take full advantage of the view. The pale golden walls and egg yolk-colored
carpet gave the light-infused room the feeling of an architectural smiley face.

“Would you like tea?” The maid
gestured toward a Chinese-style pottery tea service, as if encouraging me to
say ‘yes’ by showing the tea was already prepared.

“Thank you. That would be lovely.”
I tend to slip into a snooty vernacular when in the presence of gobs of money.
It was all I could do to keep my pinky finger from flipping up as I lifted the
tea cup from the ebony tray.

 After the obligatory five
minutes of making me wait for her grand entrance, Lisa Marie walked in lugging
a foot-high stack of glossy magazines. She nodded a quick greeting and dumped
her load onto the coffee table. Then she plucked the most recent issue of
Hawaii
Bride
from the top of the pile.

 “See this?” She said as she
flipped to a page marked with a dog-eared corner. She laid the magazine open on
her lap and pointed to an article describing the tradition of the bride folding
one-thousand origami cranes before her wedding. “I like this idea. I want
oregano cranes.”

“It’s pronounced ‘origami’ and I’m
afraid we don’t have enough time for that, Lisa Marie. Did you read what the
cranes represent?”

She gave an evasive shrug. I leaned
over and read aloud the caption under a photo montage of four artfully framed
origami crane collections.

“The origami crane
keepsake keeps alive an ancient Japanese tradition whereby the bride presents
the groom with one-thousand origami cranes demonstrating her patience and
attention to detail. The groom folds one more as a promise of fidelity.”

“Fine,” she said, slapping the magazine
closed. “I need you to get me one of those crane picture thingies for my
wedding.”

I closed my eyes and took in a full
breath, pulling my diaphragm up tight under my ribcage. It was a pre-fight
exercise I’d learned from Sifu Doug to center my mind and allow me to appear
calm when faced with a daunting opponent.

“The
bride
makes the cranes,
Lisa Marie,” I said, slowly releasing air through my nose. “One thousand tiny
perfectly folded cranes made of fragile gold-colored origami tissue. It
normally takes a bride-to-be months and months to finish.”

“It’d go a lot quicker if she hired
some people.”

“You don’t
hire people
,” I
said, silently adding the ‘
you idiot’
that so naturally followed. “It’s
your
job. The point of folding the cranes is to prove to your husband, and his
family, that you have what it takes to be a good wife. It’s not something you
phone in.”

“You promised me a perfect wedding.
Well, it won’t be perfect without a crane picture. So get with it and find me
some origami folders. I’ll pay them fifteen bucks an hour if they get it done
by next Tuesday.” She stood up and headed for the French doors before I had a
chance to protest.

“Oh, and by the way,” she said,
turning back to face me. “I know all about the Coast Guard calling off the
search for Brad. But I’m not worried. He’s not in the water anyway. I had a
dream last night. He was walking along a trail, high above the ocean. He wasn’t
even wet. In the dream he told me he has some stuff he needs to do, so he wants
me to keep getting everything ready for our wedding.”

I just nodded because no suitable
comment came to mind.

Changing the subject I asked, “When
are your parents arriving?”

“Tomorrow. Oh, and that reminds me,
I’m going to need a ride to the airport. Daddy will have his car that’s in
storage delivered to the terminal, so you won’t have to bring us back here, but
I want to meet his plane when it lands.”

“No problem,” I said. “What time
does the flight arrive?”

“I think he said around noon.”

“So when would you like me to pick
you up?”

“Be here at eleven-fifteen. I don’t
want to have to hang around the airport too long.”

 “How many people will be
arriving with him?”

“You’re sure nosy. What do you
care? I already said we’ll have our own ride back here.”

“True, but I’ll be bringing
aloha
leis. I need to know how many to get.”

She blew out an exasperated breath.
“Bring a dozen. There won’t be that many people, but my dad’s wife will
probably glom on to three or four. She’s kinda greedy.”

Half an hour later, as I was
waiting to make the turn off the highway to go toward Pa’ia, I had a flash of
brilliance.

I pulled out my cell phone and
punched in a number.

After fives rings, it went to
voicemail. Akiko’s message left no doubt she wouldn’t be coming to the phone.
You
leave your numba and I call you later. My daughter still not have that baby,
and I busy making a bride dress. Aloha
.

I flipped the phone closed, changed
lanes and made a furtive U-turn. As I neared Akiko’s house, I saw two little
boys out front. The girl who’d come into the kitchen last Thursday was sitting
on the top porch step, her head propped on her fist. She looked like she’d been
stationed there to watch over her younger siblings who were busy hurling toys
at each other in the yard below.

“Hi,” I said, as I passed by her on
my way to the front door.

“Hi,” she said in a tiny voice that
split the middle between talking to strangers and prudently ignoring them.

“Is your grandmother at home?”

“My
tutu
said not to bother
her.”

“I know. I need to ask her
something really quick. My name’s Pali, and I’m the person who hired your
tutu
to make the wedding dress.”

“You’re getting married?” She said
it with incredulity as if I didn’t, by any stretch of her childhood
imagination, fit her vision of a dewy-eyed bride.

“No. I’m the wedding planner. I
help the bride get ready for the wedding.”

“I’m Kalani,” she said with a
little bow of her head. “Those are my brothers.” She pointed to the two boys
who were now rolling on the ground grappling with each other.

“I’ll watch the boys for you if
you’ll go in and tell your
tutu
I’m here.”

“She might get mad.”

“True. Well, here’s the deal:
actually, I need to ask you something, not her, but I don’t think I should talk
to you about it until I get your
tutu’s
permission. Could you just tell
her that Pali’s here to offer you a job?”

Her small face scrunched in
distress, as if she couldn’t decide which was worse: risking her
tutu’s
ire or not learning about a possible job offer.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.
“You tell those boys to stop hitting.”

I looked down into the yard and saw
a full-blown fistfight in progress. I bounded down the steps.

“Hey, hey. What’s going on here?”

The smaller boy had sunk his teeth
into the larger boy’s forearm. The big boy howled in protest, but didn’t seem
to be making much of an effort to pull his arm away.

“You hungry?” I said to the little
biter. “You can choose. Keep chomping on your brother, or have some gum.” I
held out a half-pack of fruit-flavored Trident I’d dug out of my purse.

“No fair,” the older boy screeched.

The little boy glanced toward the
house, then snatched the gum and put it in his shorts pocket.

“And for you,” I said, rummaging
through my sizeable beach bag satchel. I came up empty in the candy and gum
department, so I scavenged some coins from the bottom. “Money.”

The bigger boy shot out his arm and
grabbed the change just as Akiko appeared on the porch.

“What you doing here?” she said. “I
not done with this dress. Maybe I never get done with these
keiki
making
all this
kulikuli
.”

The boys hung their heads, but I
saw impish grins forming as they flicked their eyes back and forth to each
other.

“Akiko. I’m sorry to bother you. I
just wanted to ask if your granddaughter might like to help out a little with a
wedding.”

Akiko looked fierce. “She’s busy
watching the boys.”

“I can see that. But this is a job
she could do while she watches them, and maybe a few of her friends could
help.”

At the mention of involving
friends, Kalani perked up.

I told them I had a client who
needed help folding her one thousand origami cranes. I avoided mentioning it
was Lisa Marie, since she and Akiko hadn’t seemed to hit it off too well. 

“Do you know how to fold a perfect
origami crane?” I bent down to look Kalani in the eye.

She sniffed as if I’d asked if she
could count to ten.

“Great. Well, this client will pay
a quarter for every perfect crane you and your friends make. You’ll need to get
the gold paper they use for the wedding cranes, and you and your friends will
need to finish one thousand of them by next Tuesday. Do you want to do it?”

“Can I,
tutu
? Please,
please.”

“I thought you say the bride need
help with the cranes. But you got the kids folding
all
of them?”

I shot her a puckish smile.

“I will ask her mother,” Akiko
said, throwing up her hands as she turned toward the door.

 Akiko’s daughter called me on
my cell a half-hour later. She’d talked with a few of Kalani’s friend’s mothers
and they’d lined up six girls from her Girl Scout troop who were eager to earn
summer camp money. She told me the girls were already at work practicing their
folding technique. One of the girl’s fathers—a Hawaiian Airlines pilot—had
agreed to pick up the special origami paper in Honolulu and would bring it home
on his last flight into Kahului that evening.

I pulled into the alley behind my
shop feeling like a hero. Nice moment, but short lived. Noni Konomanu’s fancy
black car was parked in my spot. I double parked, blocking her exit. Now she’d
have to back all the way down the narrow alley to get out of there.

A few minutes later, after I’d
heard what she’d come for, I reconsidered my rudeness. I shouldn’t have blocked
her in; I should’ve taken a baseball bat to her windshield.

CHAPTER 6

I
entered
the Gadda-da-Vida Grocery and quickly spotted Noni and Farrah in the far
reaches of the produce section. I listened, but heard nothing. I made my way
back there and found them staring each other down like a couple of tomcats.

“Hey, you two. What’s up?” I said.

“Nothing,” said Farrah in a clipped
voice. She held the small paring knife she used to trim lettuce, and she was
clenching the handle so tightly her knuckles were white.

“Oh, I beg to differ,” said Noni.
“I’m glad you showed up, Pali, because this concerns you as well. I stopped
over at your shop but you must have popped out for a latte.” Her snotty
attitude forced me to throw her my fiercest glare.

“I don’t have time for lattes.
Managing a successful bridal business requires a lot of running around handling
details.”

“I’m sure running a
successful
bridal business requires a lot of running around, but I think in your case any
time crunch is most probably due to a lack of organizational skills.” She shot
me a simpering grin. “Anyway, Mr. Sherman asked me to come by and talk to
Farrah about his plans to buy this building. He also said if I saw you I should
let you know he’s been in touch with the mortgage lender on your house up in
Hali’imaile. He’s going to be putting in a bid on it at the first possible
opportunity.”

Taunts don’t rile me much. Well, anyway,
that’s what I’d like people to think. In my younger years I might have gasped,
or talked trash back at her, but I’d trained myself to simply offer a steady
stare when attacked. I hadn’t quite mastered keeping my blood pressure from
shooting up, though, and I wondered if my cheeks were flaming.

“Too bad,” I said. “I know how much
Tank hates to lose. But by the end of next week my house will no longer be
available.”

“Says you.”

“No, says a lot of dead presidents
I’ll be collecting next Friday.”

I glanced over at Farrah. She moved
a foot closer to Noni. As if propelled by an opposing force, Noni backed away
in the opposite direction.

“Anyway, girls, I’ve got to dash,”
said Noni. “I’ve got a million things on my smart-phone calendar. Don’t you
just love technology?” She waggled the small black device at us and then turned
and wobbled down the cereal aisle in her four-inch stilettos. I noticed her
clingy red dress was an orange-red and her shoes a definite blue-red. In the
wedding business, a color gaffe like that was a career-ender.

At the back door, she hesitated as
she eyed a tower of cardboard boxes waiting to be broken down and recycled.

“Oh, and Farrah, you better hang on
to these boxes. You’re going to be needing them. You too, Pali.” She flashed us
a mocking sneer; her eyes squinting into what I hoped would become permanent
crow’s feet.

She pushed the back door open and a
blast of wind swirled her sleek dark hair across her face. “
Aloha,
see
you gals later.” She wiggled her fingers in a bye-bye wave.

The door slammed shut. I waited for
her to bang back in and demand I move my car out of her way, but she didn’t.
Maybe she was smarter than she looked.

 “What kind of evil shit was
that?” said Farrah. “I’m going to have to hire a
kahuna
to come in and
bless this place all over again. Did you know Noni had signed on as Tank
Sherman’s lackey?”

“Yeah. She came by my shop last
Tuesday.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I completely forgot about
it. I figured if I pulled off Lisa Marie’s wedding I’d be able to pay his
thieving rent until I could relocate my shop somewhere else. She didn’t say
anything about you and the Vida.”

Farrah glared at the back door but
kept quiet.

 “So,” I said, “I guess he’s
planning to increase your rent, too. Can you raise prices enough to manage it?”

“Are you kidding? If I jack my
prices any higher they’ll haul me in for extortion.”

“Good point.”

“And the new Wal-Mart down in
Kahului has already cut into my business more than thirty percent.”

“Did she say how much Tank was paying
for this place?”

“She’s probably blowing smoke, but
she said it appraised for around two mil.”

“Wow. If your folks had ever
dreamed this place would be worth that kind of money, I’ll bet they’d never
have sold it.”

“
Da kine
. But they just
wanted to run the store. The taxes and upkeep got to be more than they could
handle.”

Upkeep? I looked at the worn
interior of the century-old building. The wood plank floor was so rutted by
years of plantation workers’ feet scuffling across it that Farrah had covered the
high traffic areas with jute mats. The mats were frayed and dirty, making the
whole place look and smell like an old army barracks.

“Two million bucks,” I said,
shaking my head.

Farrah’s eyes darted around the
store, but she didn’t say anything. I’d known her long enough to recognize when
she was holding something back.

“There’s more, right?”

“Yeah. Noni said Tank wants to buy
the store. Not just the building, but the whole business.”

“She give you a number?”

“Yeah.”

When Farrah made me drag stuff out of
her, it usually signaled she was uncomfortable with the message. But I wasn’t
in the mood for twenty questions.

“Farrah, tell me the whole
thing—now. I’ve got too much going on to play the Barbara Walters thing with
you.”

“It’s a boatload.” She hesitated.
“Okay, okay, I won’t make you ask again. He’s talking a couple hundred thou.”

My jaw slackened.

“But, hey, that includes the
inventory,” she said. In a low voice she added, “I need to give him my answer
by Friday.”

I gripped the chrome edge of the
produce case. “Why’s he being so generous?”

“Noni says he’s got his reasons.”

“You going to do it?”

“How can I even think about it?
This was my parents’ store; the only thing I have left of them. Selling out to
an
‘okole
like Tank would be like dancing on their graves. They ran this
store as a gesture of peace and love to the local people here. They didn’t care
about the
kala
.”

“Didn’t care? Twenty years ago they
sold this building because of the money,” I said.

She pressed her lips into a tight
frown.

I went on. “And two hundred grand
is some serious dough. You’d never sweat money again with that kind of stash.”

“But this isn’t just my work, it’s
my home.” She glanced up, indicating her tiny apartment above the store.

“Maybe Tank will still let you live
up there. Pay him rent or something.”

“No, the offer is to get out.
Pau
.”

Something red caught my eye and I
looked down. Farrah had pushed the blade of the paring knife into her palm.
Three or four dark red drops had fallen to the floor.

 “Eh, that hurts,” she said.
She dropped the bloody knife on a display of neatly stacked head lettuce and
pressed her thumb into the cut. Blood from the knife seeped across a lettuce
head making it look like it’d taken a bullet.

“He offered to buy me out of ‘Let’s
Get Maui’d’ too,” I said.

“Really? How much?”

“Five grand.”

“What? That’s a freakin’ insult.”

“Yeah, but it’s pretty obvious
Tank’s way more interested in groceries than girls. He’ll probably just farm
out the wedding business. Besides, like you said, you’ve got inventory—and a
huge customer base.” 

“So,” said Farrah, “what did Noni
mean about Tank making a bid on your house? I didn’t know it was for sale.”

“It isn’t. It’s in foreclosure. I’m
behind on the payments.”

She opened her palm. Blood oozed
from the cut. I pulled a clean white tissue from my beach bag and held it out
to her. It looked like a limp surrender flag. She grabbed it and dabbed at the
blood.

I went on, “I’m not going to sweat
losing my house, though, because by the end of next week I’ll be paying off my
bills and almost caught up on my mortgage. I’m planning to tell that fatso,
tanks
but no tanks
.”

“Sounds good. But I’m not sure what
I should do. I hate the idea of caving to that slimy
pololia
but what
can I do? I need to go upstairs and consult my sources.”

 Farrah relied heavily on her
Ouija board, tarot cards, and rune stones to manage her day-to-day life. Her
apartment resembled a gypsy fortune teller’s wagon with walls festooned in
decades-old tie-dye, crystal prisms dangling in the windows, and every
available flat surface cluttered with mystical trinkets. Although she was an
ordained minister of the Church of Spirit and Light—an ultra-liberal Christian
sect—her personal belief system leaned much more toward the paranormal.

I gave her a hug and went over to
my shop. Before I had a chance to switch on the lights I saw the answering
machine blinking a cheerful staccato. The read-out showed three messages. Was
it too much to hope at least one of them was good news?

“Pali, I hate to bug you, but
I’m gonna need some deposit money before I start printing these wedding
announcements. Get back to me, okay?”

“Hi Pali. Keahou here. I usually
get full payment before I make a cake, but since you’re my good girl bringing
me this business , I’ll let you just give me half. When can you get that to
me?”

“This is Akiko. I forgot to tell
you I’m ready for the first fitting. Tell your bride we need to do it quick.
Oh, and can you pay me some money? The fabric cost over two hundred dollars.”

I punched in Lisa Marie’s cell
phone number.

“Now what?” she snapped. “I told
you not to bother me.”

I refused to rise to the bait.
“You’ll be happy to hear Akiko is ready for the first fitting of your gown.”

“Why do I need a fitting? That
stupid little woman already measured every inch of me. It was way embarrassing.
I bet she wouldn’t stick a tape measure up Paris Hilton’s crotch. ”

“It’s up to you, Lisa Marie. It’s
true Akiko has all of your measurements. But the drape of the fabric and the
unique design must work with the curves of your body to make a gown that fits
you perfectly. If you’d like her to simply sew it up, she can. But be
forewarned, without fittings it’ll look more like an off-the-rack-dress than an
exclusive original. You’re paying for
couture
and you deserve the full
package. Do you have any idea how many fittings super models have before
Fashion Week in New York?” My BS meter was pegging in the red zone, but the
overall gist of it was true. 

“All right. But I’m not happy about
this. Naomi Campbell gets paid huge bucks to have pins stuck in her. Is this
the only fitting I’ll need?”

“There’s usually a final fitting
the day before the wedding.”

“The wedding’s in less than a week!
Does that stupid dressmaker think I’m going to pork out in five days?”

“Maybe you won’t need a final
fitting. I think you should discuss it with Akiko.”

“Oh yeah, like she’s ever said one
single word to me—ever.”

I let a beat go by and then
ventured, “Any chance you could come by later this afternoon?” I was pushing
it. She probably had her entire day planned out: napping, whining, watching a
half-dozen soaps she’d recorded on the DVR.

“Today’s Saturday,” she said. “It’s
not even a work day.”

It struck me odd that someone who’d
most likely never worked a day in her life could differentiate between business
days and weekends.

“Yes, but Akiko’s been slaving
non-stop on your gown. She won’t be taking any time off between now and
Valentine’s Day.”

“Bully for her.”

I waited.

“Okay. I’ll call Kevin and get him
to drive me. We’ll be there at three. Tell that little sewing lady to be on
time and to make it snappy. I’ve got to be back home by four to catch
Entertainment
Tonight, the Weekend Edition.
It comes on way early over here. My whole TV
schedule’s all messed up.”

I offered
mahalos
for coming
in on such short notice. I didn’t comment on the obvious irony of a spoiled
diva racing home to catch up on the antics of other spoiled divas. After all, I
had a mortgage to pay.

Lisa Marie arrived a few minutes
before three. Kevin excused himself immediately, saying he’d be back in half an
hour. In her slim elegant gown Lisa Marie looked even more emaciated than she
had on Friday. Akiko pinned and tucked, assuring both me and the bride it was
way easier to take in a dress than let one out.

“I make big seams. Usually with
pregnant girl, well, you know.” She pinched her lips into a disapproving scowl.
“Skinny girl, no problem.”

After the fitting, Lisa Marie
hopped off the step-up platform and dashed behind the curtain of the tiny
changing room. Half a minute later, she used her bare foot to nudge the
exquisite silk dress under the curtain and out onto the fitting room floor.
Akiko’s eyes widened in horror as she snatched up the gown. She smoothed the fabric
with the tenderness of a mother comforting an injured child. Then she hung the
dress on a padded hanger and slipped it into a pink satin garment bag. She
turned to leave.

“Next fitting on Tuesday,” she
said, parting the bead curtain. I heard her bare feet pad across the reception
room floor and then there was a pause as she slipped into her flip-flops. A few
seconds later the front door slammed with a resolute
bam
.

“I told you I didn’t want any more
fittings,” said Lisa Marie. She’d come out from the dressing room wearing only
her bra and panties. She stood—hands on hips—glaring at me.

“Akiko had to take your gown in
almost an entire size, Lisa Marie. If you keep losing weight, it’ll be hanging
on you like a garbage bag by Valentine’s Day. You need to start eating. And you
need to come back on Tuesday so she can check the alterations.”