Right from the Gecko (23 page)

I cast Nick another meaningful look, then asked, “Desiree, did you tell anyone about this?”

“Why would I?” she returned, sounding a bit defensive. “They're hardly the first couple that's had an argument here. It happens all the time.”

Keith nodded enthusiastically. “That's right. Sometimes they don't even finish their dinners before they both go off in a snit. It's such a waste of food.”

“So you didn't tell the police any of this,” I said.

“The police?” Desiree looked at me as if I'd just suggested she join the French Foreign Legion. “Why on earth would I want anything to do with the police?”

From the horrified look on her face, I gathered that somewhere along the line, this woman had had enough interactions with the police to last a lifetime.

I thanked her for the information, adding, “I'd better let you get back to work. I don't want you to get in trouble.”

Once Nick and I were settled back at our table, I observed, “So Ace and Marnie weren't exactly going hand and hand into the sunset right before she was murdered.”

“Not even close,” Nick agreed. “And from what Desiree told us, it sounds as if he and Marnie might have gone to the Purple Mango after they left this place.”

“Which means he could have been the person the cops' witness saw her leaving with—”

“And he could also have been the person who killed her,” Nick finished. “It certainly fits. First, Ace tells Marnie he's married. Maybe he even tries to break it off with her. Then she goes nuts and threatens to tell his wife. Finally, in a fit of fury, our pal Ace takes what seems like the path of least resistance, at least to him.”

I just nodded. It was certainly an ugly scenario.

But Nick was right. It was also a scenario that made perfect sense.

“What's this?” Nick asked as he pushed open the door of our hotel room.

Glancing down, I saw what he was referring to: a white business-size envelope lying on the carpet. Someone had clearly slipped it under the door while we were out.

My heart immediately began to pound. What now? I thought.

“Maybe it's a bill,” he speculated, bending down to pick it up. “You know how sometimes hotels slip your bill under the door.”

“But that's usually the day you're checking out,” I pointed out. “It's way too soon for that.”

With a sly grin, he suggested, “Maybe the neighbors have been complaining about how much noise we're making. You gotta admit, we've been making the most of our ‘romantic getaway.'”

I wasn't amused. “Or maybe they've been complaining about Moose. They might have noticed he'd moved into our room while you had him out on the lanai.” I glanced nervously at our roommate, who was trotting toward us. He looked very happy that we were home.

I scooped him up, then cuddled him in my arms as I peered over Nick's shoulder. He slid open the envelope with his finger and unfolded what looked like a letter printed on the hotel's stationery. A smaller slip of paper was also tucked inside. Printed on top was the word
Voucher.

“According to this,” he said, “the hotel is giving us a free helicopter ride over the island of Kauai. It says here that it's a bonus for having booked the room for so many days.”

“Really? That's awfully generous.”

Nick shrugged. “Hey, you know what they say about never looking a gift horse in the mouth. Didn't they teach you about that in vet school?”

I laughed. “I guess I missed that lecture. When do we go?”

He studied the voucher. “It looks like we're on for—hey, that's tomorrow's date. Wow, they're even throwing in airfare to Kauai. We'll be picked up at Lihue Airport by our own personal helicopter pilot.”

“Very cool,” I commented. “And I thought the free tickets for the luau were a big deal. The timing is good too. The conference ends at noon tomorrow, and none of the morning lectures sounded all that interesting, anyway.”

“This is so great!” Nick exclaimed. “I read all about these helicopter trips in my guidebook. Parts of Kauai are unreachable by car or even by foot, so this is the only way to see some of the most spectacular scenery in Hawaii. It's supposed to be unbelievable, with mountains and canyons and waterfalls as high as skyscrapers…”

As Nick babbled on, I read through the letter, looking for a catch—some fine print stating that if we opted to take the aforementioned helicopter ride, we were automatically agreeing to buy a time-share or a piece of real estate in one of the more remote corners of the Haleakala crater.

But I didn't mention my concerns, since I didn't want to rain on Nick's parade. Still, I was only too familiar with another old expression: If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

Nick's excitement was contagious, and I quickly put all my reservations aside. The next morning, we skipped the breakfast ritual we'd developed. Instead, after refilling Moose's food and water bowls and putting out the
Do Not Disturb
sign again, we went downstairs to the lobby to grab coffee and muffins at the hotel's complimentary continental breakfast. Before dashing out, I snatched a couple of bagels off the tray and stuck them in my backpack, figuring our helicopter trip probably wouldn't include meal service.

Then we popped into our Jeep and drove to Kahului Airport. As we pulled into the parking lot, I reflected upon how much had happened in the past five days. In fact, it was difficult to believe that such a short time had passed since we'd first arrived.

After our Hawaiian Airlines airplane rose out of Kahului Airport and Nick and I oohed and aahed over the view, I opened Nick's guidebook and read the section on Kauai. I learned that “the garden isle,” as it was nicknamed, was the oldest of Hawaii's main islands, and ancient Hawaiians had lived in its green valleys centuries earlier. It still retained its spectacular beauty, most of which remained untouched by humans.

Because of its dramatic mountains and lush rain forests, it was often compared to Eden. Kauai's beautiful, untamed terrain had been featured in many movies, including all three of the
Jurassic Park
flicks. In fact, even though this particular guidebook had been written especially for “penny-pinchers” like us, its author strongly recommended that sightseers scrimp, save, or do whatever it took in order to see it all by helicopter.

The more I read, the more excited I became.

We'd barely gotten off the plane at Lihue Airport before I noticed a man in his thirties or forties waving at us. He was dressed in jeans and the usual loud Hawaiian shirt. But his face had that familiar weatherworn surfer look, with amazingly green eyes and leathery skin that indicated he was no stranger to the sun.

“Jessie and Nick, right?” he greeted us. “I'm Chip, your pilot and tour guide for the day.” After we shook hands all around, he announced, “Okay, so if you guys are ready, let's hit the skies.”

As we crossed the field toward the helicopter, Chip explained, “This helicopter is equipped with a two-way intercom system, so we can talk during the flight. That way, I can tell you what you're seeing and you can ask me anything that comes up.”

The four-passenger helicopter, which Chip informed us was a Bell JetRanger, had huge windows that offered excellent views. It was also surprisingly comfortable, I discovered as we seat-belted ourselves in.

However, I quickly forgot all about creature comforts as we rose into the air and the island's beauty spread out before us. Chip explained via the earphones that we were starting along the north coast, heading west toward the famed Na Pali Coast. The view was amazing, and I snapped one picture after another of the treacherous volcanic mountains that edged the coastline. Just as the guidebook had indicated, I recognized those craggy peaks, jutting high into the air from dense green rain forests, from the movies—and I half-expected to see a T. rex tromping through the thick foliage.

“Pretty spectacular, huh?” Chip said. “Next we're going to head toward the center of the island. We'll be flying over Waimea Canyon, the largest canyon in the Pacific. In fact, its nickname is the Grand Canyon of the Pacific. The rivers and the lava flowing off Mount Waialeale, the island's ancient volcano, created it thousands of years ago. The Waimea River still flows through the canyon, cutting it deeper and wider every day.”

Gesturing toward the guidebook he clutched in his hand, Nick asked, “Didn't I read that the canyon is over ten miles long?”

“That's right,” Chip returned. “And it's about a mile wide. It's also over thirty-five hundred feet deep. Today it's part of Kokee State Park, and there are hiking trails running through it. It can be pretty treacherous going, but people do it all the time.”

“Can you reach it by driving?” I asked.

“Sure, but it's a long trek. Waimea Canyon Road is about forty miles long. It's also a pretty rough road. Trust me: It's not for everybody. But you two look like you could handle a stop inside the canyon. That way, you can get out and really take a look around.”

“Cool,” Nick muttered. I glanced over at him and saw that his eyes were glowing.

The spiky terrain of the island's northwest coast suddenly gave way to a dramatic canyon. The dense green rain forest now covered craggy cliffs and deep crevices carved out of dusty red volcanic rock. Waimea Canyon really did remind me of the Grand Canyon.

“There it is!” I cried.

Nick was already doing some pretty serious picture-taking of his own.

“Look at that!” I cried, pointing to a silvery waterfall that looked as if it plunged hundreds of feet downward. As if it weren't dramatic enough in itself, a rainbow floated in front of it.

“Wow,” Nick muttered, sounding totally awestruck. “This is so amazing.”

I reached over and took his hand in mine, giving it a squeeze. I was glad I hadn't given in to my fears about what this trip might be all about and that, for once, I'd just accepted it for what it was: a bonus for being a good tourist.

When I felt the helicopter start to descend, I peered over the side to watch as Chip slowly brought us down into the canyon. Our landing on a rocky ledge was so expertly done that I had a feeling he made this stop for all his customers.

“Okay, I'm gonna let you folks out here for a while,” Chip told us. “Feel free to hike around and get a feel for the place.”

“Great!” Nick exclaimed. “Thanks a lot!”

As soon as we scrambled out of the helicopter, he and I began making our way along what looked like a trail, albeit a rough, poorly traveled one. I had to pay close attention to keep from stumbling on the loose rocks that had deviously set themselves down along the path as if they were deliberately trying to trip hikers.

But I also managed to take in the spectacular view. We really were deep inside the canyon, which stretched as far as I could see in every direction. The craggy layers of rock looked as treacherous as they were beautiful. The only softness in the harsh terrain that surrounded us came in the form of the low scrubby shrubs that meandered through the rocks like rivulets.

As we walked for what must have been at least a couple of miles, the experience was so absorbing that I totally forgot to check the time. At least until I realized the sun had gotten substantially higher in the clear blue sky. It was also getting uncomfortably hot.

“Maybe we should be getting back,” I suggested, glancing over my shoulder uneasily. By this point, the helicopter was no longer in sight. Not only had I lost track of the time; I hadn't realized we'd walked so far. “Chip didn't say how long we'd be staying here.”

Nick shielded his eyes with his hand and gazed off. “I'd really like to get some more hiking in before we leave. This place is incredible.”

“I know, but—”

I never got to finish my sentence. The thunderous noise that suddenly reverberated through the canyon made it impossible for us to hear each other speak.