Right from the Gecko (19 page)

Betty laughed. “So they are. But it just so happens I've got a bit of hula dancing on my résumé. It was required at my audition for the Broadway production of
South Pacific
.”

Winston's expression had changed to one of alarm. I had a feeling his résumé wasn't nearly as comprehensive.

“How about you two?” she asked. “Care to join us?”

“Thanks,” I replied, quickly remembering our take-no-prisoners dance teacher. “I think we'll sit this one out.”

“You two kids go on,” Nick agreed. “Have a blast. Jessie brought her camera. We'll take pictures.”

Betty dragged Winston after her toward the stage. “Come on, Win. Let's show this audience what dancing is all about.”

As soon as they left, an awkward silence hung over our table. I took a few photos of graceful Betty and panic-stricken Winston, then pretended I was so absorbed in trying to drink the mai tai the waiter had brought without getting flower petals up my nose that I couldn't possibly make conversation.

It was Nick who broke the silence.

“Those two were made for each other,” he said warmly. “I'm really happy for them.”

“Yes,” I agreed, although the single syllable I uttered sounded more like I was choking on my drink than pronouncing an actual word.

“And Betty's absolutely right about how romantic it is, getting engaged on a beautiful island like Maui,” he continued.

“I just hope they're ready,” I said, talking to the attractive tablecloth rather than to Nick. “It's such a big commitment.”

“Jess,” Nick said gently, taking my hand in his, “sometimes people just
know.
They don't need to think about it, they don't need to ask their friends or consult their horoscope…. In their hearts, they' recertain it's what's right for them.”

I couldn't come up with a good response. So I was greatly relieved when I glanced up and saw that Betty and Winston were already back.

“Turns out that hula business is a lot harder than it looks,” Winston said apologetically as he pulled out his chair.

“Tell me about it,” I replied.

Betty slung her arms around Winston. “Maybe I could interest you in a few private lessons, back in our hotel room,” she offered with shining eyes.

I could only imagine what else was in the syllabus.

But my own issues with love, commitment, independence, and claustrophobia aside, I really was happy for Betty and Winston. As far as I was concerned, they were the two nicest people in the world, and I was delighted that they'd found each other.

“Betty, I'm really thrilled for you,” I said sincerely. “You too, Winston. I know you're going to be happy together.”

“We already are,” Betty replied, smiling. “We're just making our happiness official.”

“I propose a toast to the lovebirds,” Nick said heartily, holding up his glass. “To Betty and Winston!”

Betty clinked her glass against Nick's. “I can't think of a better way to celebrate than with the two of you,” she said. “This trip just keeps getting better and better. Joining you on Maui was one of the best ideas I ever came up with, if I do say so myself!”

“What have you got on the schedule for tomorrow?” Nick asked after we'd toasted Betty and Winston, Nick, me, Maui, marriage, and pineapple juice.

“I'm trying to talk Winston into taking the drive to Hana,” Betty replied. “It's supposed to be absolutely breathtaking.” She poked him in the ribs playfully, adding, “But this old coot insists he's not up to it—even though I offered to do the driving.”

“It's a pretty treacherous road,” Nick commented. “Jessie and I did it the last time we were here.”

I had to admit that the day trip was one of the few fond memories I had of that so-called vacation. The fifty-mile highway that ran along Maui's northern coast was filled with twists and turns and bloodcurdling switchbacks. But the scenery was spectacular. On one side was the island's breathtaking coastline, dramatic cliffs rising out of serene bays or the raging ocean, with white-foamed waves crashing at the base. On the other side was an amazing assortment of natural wonders, ranging from dense greenery with narrow paths cut through to silver waterfalls that were several stories high. I remembered stopping at one particular spot to hike and finding a group of Hawaiians sitting on the rocks alongside a stream, weaving baskets and hats out of slender green palm fronds. At the end of the long, winding road was Hana, a quiet village that consisted of a few historic buildings, a cultural museum, and a luxurious hotel that overlooked the water.

But what I remembered best was Nick and me experiencing the whole day together, our eyes wide and our mood awestruck as we took in Maui's beauty. In fact, it was one of my favorite memories of our time together.

“Maybe all four of us should go,” I suggested. “Winston, how would you feel about taking the trip if Nick and I did the driving?”

“Since your eyes and reflexes are a few decades younger than ours,” Winston replied, chuckling, “I suppose my nerves could handle it.”

“Great,” Nick said. “And we definitely have to make a stop at Waianapanapa Cave.”

“Never heard of it,” Winston commented. “Where is it?”

“It's right off the main road, just before you reach Hana,” Nick explained. “In fact, it's in a place called Waianapanapa State Park. I read in my guidebook that the word
Waianapanapa
means
glistening waters,
which refers to the water that pools at the bottom of the cave. It's supposed to be beautiful. But what's even better is the haunting story behind it.

“According to legend,” he went on, “a long time ago, a warrior chief named Ka'akea became convinced that his wife, Popu'alaea, was having an affair. He followed her to Waianapanapa Cave because he was certain the reason she was sneaking off to such a secluded spot was to meet her lover. In fact, she was merely hiding, trying to get away from him. While Ka'akea was searching for her, he caught sight of her reflection in the still waters of the cave and murdered her. To this day, the water turns blood-red every spring on the anniversary of her death, and her screams can be heard in the wind.”

Just hearing the story gave me chills. “It's probably not true,” I commented, “but it still makes a pretty good legend.”

“Whether or not the part about the violent chief is true, it turns out the real reason the water turns red every spring is because of the red shrimp living in it,” Nick said, grinning.

“But the original version makes a much better story,” Betty observed. “And I'd love to see it.”

“Then it's settled,” Nick concluded. “Jessie already rented a Jeep. We'll find a day that works for everybody and we'll take the drive.”

“How about Sunday?” Winston suggested.

“Great!” I agreed. “We can bring along a picnic lunch, and we should probably pack our bathing suits….”

A day trip to Hana with Betty and Winston really did sound like a great idea. In fact, I was already looking forward to it. Maybe there was still a way that Nick and I could spend quality time together doing things that were completely unrelated to a murder investigation.

“I know it's late,” I told Nick as the two of us lingered at our table on the Oceanview Terrace's patio, “but there's one quick thing I want to do before I go back to the room. If the hotel florist is still open, I'd like to arrange for a bouquet to be delivered to Betty and Winston's room first thing tomorrow.”

Nick and I were among the last of the diehards. By that point, the musicians had packed up their ukuleles and gone home and the kalua pork was nothing more than a fond memory. In fact, the cleanup crew had already begun bustling around us, marking an end to the luau and what had turned out to be an absolutely lovely evening. As for the newly engaged couple, they had retreated to their room long before, anxious to celebrate on their own.

“D'you mind if I pass?” Nick asked. “I'm bushed.”

“Nope,” I assured him. “In fact, even though you'll be all snuggled in your bed while I agonize over roses versus orchids, I'll still sign the card from both of us.”

“Okay,
wahine,
” Nick replied. “But don't be long.” Pulling me close, he whispered, “There's a volcano on this island that's getting ready to erupt.”

“Far be it from me to interfere with the forces of nature,” I replied, laughing as I leaned over to give him a kiss.

As I walked toward the string of shops that lined the hotel lobby, I realized I'd been overly optimistic. Only one store appeared to be open, the one that sold newspapers, travel-size bottles of antacid, Maui T-shirts, and other basic necessities. I made a mental note to call the florist first thing the next morning. Not quite the dramatic effect of being awakened by a bellman bearing a colorful bouquet of fragrant blossoms, but it would have to do.

Even though I was pretty tired too, I decided to use the bank of elevators at the other end of the hotel to go back to the room. Choosing that route would take me through a scenic courtyard filled with palm trees and sweet-smelling tropical flowers and even a small waterfall. The moon was shining brightly and the warm air was wonderfully soothing, and I wanted the chance to savor it all.

Especially since tonight I had it all to myself.

I strolled through the courtyard, noticing that it was so quiet I could hear the gentle sea breezes rustling the palm fronds. Aside from that, there was no other sound besides the swishing of my rubber-soled sandals as I padded across the stone walkway.

Then I heard a soft thud.

I turned abruptly, mainly because I was startled. Maybe you're not alone after all, I thought, glancing behind me.

I didn't see a thing.

I decided I was just imagining things, probably a side effect of being so tired. I walked another ten feet, then stopped again.

This time I was certain I'd heard a footstep. Several, in fact. And when I turned, I was almost positive I saw something move in the shadows.

Relax! I chastised myself. It's not as if you're the only person who's staying at this hotel. Other people have the right to walk through this courtyard.

Still, I couldn't help feeling that I was being followed.

I quickened my pace, relieved that I'd almost reached the elevators. Up ahead I could see a few hotel shops, their interiors dimly lit. I hurried toward them, hoping someone would be window shopping at the expensive jewelry store that specialized in Tahitian black pearls or the clothing boutique that featured Tommy Bahama sportswear and rhinestone-bedecked sandals. But there wasn't a soul in sight. Not at this hour, when all the credit cards had gone beddy-bye, along with the tourists who owned them.

I finally turned in to the short corridor that led to the bank of elevators. I glanced upward to see how long it would take for one of them to whisk me off to my room. According to the numbers above, not a single one was close to the ground floor.

Frantically I pressed the up button, meanwhile debating whether to wait or to turn and try a different route. I could hear the footsteps getting closer. At least, I thought I could. My heart was pounding so loudly at that point that it was hard to tell what I was hearing.

I pressed the up button a few more times, muttering, “Come on, come on,” under my breath.

And then I felt a hand grip my arm.

Chapter
11

I
whirled around, my hands clenched into fists as I instinctively geared up to fight. Instead, I gasped.

“Graham?”
I cried. The last person in the world I'd expected to encounter in a dark alley was Graham Warner, the slick, ponytailed guy who came on to me the day before at the hotel bar.

“You sure walk fast,” he replied calmly, as if the two of us had just happened to run into each other on a busy street. He let go of my arm, then used his hand to brush a straggly strand of hair out of his face.

“You were…I thought…”

He frowned. “Hey, I didn't scare you, did I?”

“I guess you could say you did.” I laughed nervously, not wanting to let on how annoyed I was. “In fact, you probably took a few years off my life.”

“Sorry. I didn't want to call out your name. It's so late.” Glancing around, he added, “And it's kind of quiet here, since there's nobody else around.”

Something about the way he made that observation sent a chill running through me. He was right; there was nobody else around. And just because the person who'd been following me through the deserted courtyard now had an identity, that didn't make me any more comfortable being alone with him in an isolated spot.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. I still hadn't decided whether I should be making polite conversation or screaming.

“Me?” He looked surprised by my question. In fact, I could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he struggled to think up an answer to what seemed to me like a really obvious question. “I hang out at the bar here sometimes. It's good place to watch the tourists.”

“Right,” I replied uncertainly.

“Actually,” he went on, leaning in a little closer, “I'm glad I ran into you like this.”

Ran into me? I thought. As if him stalking me at my hotel in the middle of the night was a coincidence.

“Really?” I looked around, a little alarmed that I couldn't see any obvious way out. I held my flowered backpack more closely against my chest, wondering if there was anything in it that could function as a weapon.

“Yeah.” Grinning and attempting to exude what I imagined was his idea of boyish charm, he explained, “I realized I owe you an apology.”

“For what?” I could hardly remember our earlier conversation, aside from the fact that it left me thinking he was firmly entrenched in the creep category. And given the fact that I still kept glancing around, hoping somebody—anybody—would magically appear, I wasn't in the best frame of mind to reconstruct our interaction.

“For coming on so strong yesterday,” he replied. “I'm not usually like that. I guess I was just trying a little too hard, and when I saw I wasn't getting anywhere, I acted like kind of a jerk.”

“It's fine,” I said offhandedly. “Don't worry about it.”

Just then, the elevator doors opened. Saved, I thought. At least for now. I stepped inside quickly, making a point of staying near the front so I had at least a chance of fighting him off if he decided to join me.

“Hey, let me buy you a drink.” He pressed his hand against the elevator door, preventing it from closing.

“I'm pretty wiped out,” I said firmly. “I've got to get some sleep.”

“C'mon, one drink. You'll be back in your room in half an hour.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I told him more forcefully. This guy was actually turning out to be a lot worse than Marcus. At least Marcus eventually took no for an answer.

“Hey, I can be a pretty charming guy, if you'll just give me a chance—”

“Excuse me, I've really got to go,” I insisted, raising my voice. I jabbed at the close-doors button and stepped farther back.

“In that case, at least let me give you my card.” I tensed when he reached into his pants pocket. But all he pulled out was his wallet. He flipped it open and pulled out a white business card.

“Here's my cell phone number,” he said, thrusting it at me. “Call me any time, Jessie. I mean it. If I can ever be of any use, just let me know.”

“Okay, Graham,” I humored him, reluctantly taking his card. And already planning to toss it as soon as I got back to my room.

If and when he let me do that. I was relieved that he finally lowered his arm and allowed the elevator doors to close. “Listen, have a good night,” he called after me as they separated us.

It wasn't until the elevator started moving, carrying me safely back to my room, that I realized I was covered in a thin film of sweat. Graham Warner was really starting to creep me out, and I sincerely hoped our paths wouldn't cross again.

Then again, Maui was turning out to be a very small island.

The next morning, Nick and I both awoke with a sense of purpose. From the moment I opened my eyes, the air felt charged with electricity. In fact, the atmosphere in the room reminded me of mornings at home, when we both leaped out of bed energized by the list of things we were determined to accomplish that day.

While he showered, I plopped Moose into my lap and called the hotel florist. I arranged for them to deliver their biggest, brightest bouquet of tropical flowers to Betty's room as soon as they could.

Then, over breakfast on the lanai, I studied my road map of Maui. First I checked the location of the Wailuku public library, where Nick planned to spend the morning researching FloraTech and reading through Marnie's files. Then I plotted out my own itinerary, zeroing in on two particular addresses on Marnie's list that happened to be fairly close to each other.

“Okay, I think this makes sense.” I shoved the map toward Nick, which required pushing aside the bowl full of tantalizing chunks of mango drizzled with fresh lime juice that I had yet to dig into. “I'll start by checking out these two places, since they're only a few miles apart. They're both located in an area that's known as ‘Upcountry Maui.'”

Nick looked up from the Hawaii Power & Light file he'd already started perusing and glanced at the map. “Looks like a plan,” he commented. “Especially since the first listing has
yes
written next to it and the second one says
no.
Maybe you can figure out what Marnie's code meant.”

Suddenly he frowned. “What about Moose? We'll both be out this morning when the maid comes. I have a feeling the hotel won't be very happy about us harboring a stowaway.”

“Good point.” I scanned the room, looking for a solution. I found it hanging on the doorknob. “How about putting out the
Do Not Disturb
sign?” I asked. “Think that will work?”

“Maybe. But just to be safe, I'll leave a note right inside the door, where the maid can't miss it. And I'll put a twenty next to it, to be doubly sure she doesn't turn us in.”

When I dropped Nick at the library, we exchanged a quick, impersonal kiss, a sign that each of us was already absorbed in the day's mission. As he was about to jump out of the Jeep, he hesitated and turned back.

“Hey, Jess?” he said somberly. “Be careful, will you? You don't really know what you're getting into.”

I nodded. “I'll be fine,” I promised. I just hoped I was right.

After checking the map one more time, I headed south on the Haleakala Highway. The first stop I had scheduled was a place called Aloha Farm. It was located on Kula Highway, not far from the island's best-known winery, Tedeschi Vineyards. But that was all I knew about it. From its name, I figured it could turn out to be anything from a cattle ranch to a day-care center.

Even though I'd traveled this route several times before, I was still overwhelmed by the amazing scenery. To my right, the rocky shoreline tumbled downward to the turquoise waters of the Pacific Ocean. To the left, the green craggy mountains formed an irregular line against the pale blue sky. As I rounded a bend in the road, I spotted one of the clearest, brightest rainbows I'd ever seen, arcing across the horizon.

Still, the longer I drove, the more difficult it was to appreciate the island's beauty. In fact, the closer I got to the Kula Highway, the greater my sense of dread.

As was often the case, I was not only nervous about what I might find; I was also worried that I might not find out anything at all.

I located the first entry on Marnie's list with surprising ease. The street address was posted on a mint-green sign with yellow hand-painted letters. Right above it were the words
Aloha Farm
.

I pulled up in front of the sign, then rolled down the window of my Jeep to get a better look. Like Alice Feeley's house, this one was also awash in color. But there were two major differences between the two buildings. This one had been painted in soothing pastels, rather than the wilder colors Alice had opted for. But, even more striking, the condition of this house made it clear that a tremendous amount of love and care had gone into it.

The small, squat building appeared to be more than a house, however. On the front porch was a big cardboard sign reading
OPEN
. Beyond it, covering the hillside, stretched rows of lush trees that told me Aloha Farm really was just that: a farm.

I checked my notes. Or, to be more accurate, Marnie's notes.

“Makiko and Peter Cooper,”
I read aloud.
“Aloha
Farm, two and a quarter acres.”
In the margin right next to it, Marnie had scrawled the word
YES.

Not much to go on. Then again, I told myself resolutely as I swung open the car door, learning something about this place is why you're here.

Tentatively, I opened the front door, still not completely convinced that the
OPEN
sign meant it was okay to walk right in. I found myself in a small room that was set up like a café, complete with sunshine-yellow tablecloths printed with a whimsical coffee-cup design. Curtains made from the same cheerful fabric framed the large picture window that looked out onto the sloping fields. Three serious-looking glass cases containing displays on the history and processing of coffee lined the other walls.

So Aloha Farm is a coffee plantation, I thought, still not quite knowing what to make of that fact.

I glanced down as I felt something silky brush against my leg. A sweet-faced gray cat gazed up at me, uttering a quizzical, “Meow?”

“Hello, you precious thing,” I cooed, lifting her up and cuddling her in my arms. Her fur was thick and soft, and her appreciative purrs reverberated through my chest. I nuzzled her against my cheek, suddenly reminded of how much I missed my own gray cat, Catherine the Great, as well as my tiger kitten, Tinkerbell. In fact, my heart began to ache as I thought about how much I also missed my Westie Max and my Dalmatian Lou, as well as my parrot Prometheus and my Jackson's chameleon Leilani—

“Can I help you?” The sound of a friendly female voice interrupted my unexpected bout of homesickness.

I whirled around, surprised that I wasn't alone at all. A small, slender woman about my age stood in the doorway that led into the house, smiling. She was dressed casually in jeans and a plain white T-shirt, and her straight, jet-black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail.

“I was driving by and I saw your sign out front,” I said. “I thought I'd stop in and try some of your coffee.”

“Certainly! Why don't you take a seat? I'll bring you a small sample of each, if that's okay.”

As long as there's caffeine in it, I thought, it's fine with me. I dropped into the nearest seat with my furry new buddy still in my arms.

“I see you met our official greeter,” the woman commented as she filled no fewer than five small paper cups from five different urns. “Kona is remarkably friendly for a cat. But maybe that's because she grew up in the family business.”

“Really? You mean you're the owner?” I asked casually. I hoped she thought I was just another nosy tourist, making conversation.

“My husband and I have owned Aloha Farm for about twelve years. By the way, I'm Makiko Cooper.”

“I'm Jessie Popper,” I replied. “I'm here on Maui for a veterinary conference.”

“You're a vet? So that explains why you're so good with Kona. And believe me, she loves the attention.”

She turned her attention to the five cups balanced on the tray she was carrying. “Okay, this should give you a chance to taste a few varieties so you can decide which ones you like best. From left to right, we've got one hundred percent Kona Coffee, Kona Vanilla Macadamia Nut, one hundred percent Maui Coffee, and Kona Hula Pie, which is flavored with coconut, macadamia nut, and hazelnut. This last one is Kona Peaberry, which is the crème de la crème of Kona coffee. It's made with a higher grade of coffee bean.”

“I didn't even realize coffee was grown on Maui,” I commented. I gently placed Kona the Cat on the ground and reached for the Peaberry, figuring I might as well start at the top.