us, have a chi chi.”
I asked what a chi chi was as she led me to a table where two oversized thermos containers stood amid dozens of plastic cups.
“A classic Hawaiian drink,” Mike answered. “Vodka, pineapple juice, coconut cream, and a little sugar. You’ll love it.”
After handing me my drink, he turned in a circle, arms outstretched, and proclaimed, “Is this not the most beautiful place on earth?”
“It is lovely,” I said.
“Four thousand acres of untouched beauty,” he said. “Look over there. The Iao Needle.”
He pointed to a green-mantled rock that jutted straight up into the air.
“More than a thousand feet tall, taller than the Eiffel Tower. Hawaiians consider it a symbol of Kanaloa, the god of the underworld.”
I laughed. “There seems to be a Hawaiian god for everything.”
He laughed, too. “Part of our charm. With so many gods looking over us, we’re always safe. Come, meet the others.”
The next hours flew by quickly. It was a spirited group. The children were full of energy but well behaved, listening to their parents when they were getting out of hand. I never learned of the relationships between many of the people, but that didn’t matter. The warmth that prevailed was immensely satisfying, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. The men in the group cooked enough meat on the grill to feed every Hawaiian god within miles, and a combination of the chi chi and food made me sleepy.
“I’m going to take a stroll,” I told Mike.
“Don’t go too far,” he said. “There’s a storm brewing at the headwaters of the stream. It can flood before you know it. We’ll be packing up soon.”
“I’ll keep you in my sight,” I assured him and set out along the streambed. A number of older children frolicked in the water, and some teenagers jumped from rocks into a spot where it widened and appeared deep enough for them to not be hurt.
I passed other “families” enjoying the pristine day and being together. Many waved to me and said, “Aloha,” and I returned the greeting, which now came naturally to me. The friendliness reminded me of Cabot Cove, where waves from both friends and strangers were frequent as one walked through town.
I looked back to see if Mike was summoning me, but he was busy tossing a Frisbee with another man. I went a little farther but stopped when I saw a familiar face, Charlie Reed, the owner and skipper of the
Maui Ocean Star
, on which I’d enjoyed my dinner cruise the previous evening.
“Well, hello again,” he said. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I’m here thanks to my teaching partner, Mike Kane,” I said. “He was good enough to invite me to join his family.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Kane, Detective Kane,” he said. “He’s supposed to be some sort of a legend on Maui.”
It didn’t sound as if he was impressed with Mike’s celebrated reputation.
“He’s quite a man.”
Reed’s nod was noncommittal. “Say,” he said, “I have your book in my car. I was going to send it over to your hotel. How about signing it right now?”
He fetched the book and I inscribed it to him, citing his magnificent catamaran and the cruise I’d taken on it.
“Thanks, Jessica. Are you, uh—?”
I cocked my head.
“Are you involved in some way with what happened to Mala Kapule?”
“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘involved.’”
“Rumors are floating around—I mean, some people are saying—uh, that she might not have been the victim of an accident. The cops questioned me, too. That was annoying. Of course, I was out on the water, so I wouldn’t know anything about how she died.”
“Really? As I understand it, the police are labeling her death an accident.”
“That’s a relief. Mala was a pain to a lot of people, but to think that someone might have killed her is—well, it’s ridiculous. Don’t you agree?”
“As a matter of fact—”
A brilliant bolt of lightning slashing through the sky on the horizon was
I asked what a chi chi was as she led me to a table where two oversized thermos containers stood amid dozens of plastic cups.
“A classic Hawaiian drink,” Mike answered. “Vodka, pineapple juice, coconut cream, and a little sugar. You’ll love it.”
After handing me my drink, he turned in a circle, arms outstretched, and proclaimed, “Is this not the most beautiful place on earth?”
“It is lovely,” I said.
“Four thousand acres of untouched beauty,” he said. “Look over there. The Iao Needle.”
He pointed to a green-mantled rock that jutted straight up into the air.
“More than a thousand feet tall, taller than the Eiffel Tower. Hawaiians consider it a symbol of Kanaloa, the god of the underworld.”
I laughed. “There seems to be a Hawaiian god for everything.”
He laughed, too. “Part of our charm. With so many gods looking over us, we’re always safe. Come, meet the others.”
The next hours flew by quickly. It was a spirited group. The children were full of energy but well behaved, listening to their parents when they were getting out of hand. I never learned of the relationships between many of the people, but that didn’t matter. The warmth that prevailed was immensely satisfying, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. The men in the group cooked enough meat on the grill to feed every Hawaiian god within miles, and a combination of the chi chi and food made me sleepy.
“I’m going to take a stroll,” I told Mike.
“Don’t go too far,” he said. “There’s a storm brewing at the headwaters of the stream. It can flood before you know it. We’ll be packing up soon.”
“I’ll keep you in my sight,” I assured him and set out along the streambed. A number of older children frolicked in the water, and some teenagers jumped from rocks into a spot where it widened and appeared deep enough for them to not be hurt.
I passed other “families” enjoying the pristine day and being together. Many waved to me and said, “Aloha,” and I returned the greeting, which now came naturally to me. The friendliness reminded me of Cabot Cove, where waves from both friends and strangers were frequent as one walked through town.
I looked back to see if Mike was summoning me, but he was busy tossing a Frisbee with another man. I went a little farther but stopped when I saw a familiar face, Charlie Reed, the owner and skipper of the
Maui Ocean Star
, on which I’d enjoyed my dinner cruise the previous evening.
“Well, hello again,” he said. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I’m here thanks to my teaching partner, Mike Kane,” I said. “He was good enough to invite me to join his family.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Kane, Detective Kane,” he said. “He’s supposed to be some sort of a legend on Maui.”
It didn’t sound as if he was impressed with Mike’s celebrated reputation.
“He’s quite a man.”
Reed’s nod was noncommittal. “Say,” he said, “I have your book in my car. I was going to send it over to your hotel. How about signing it right now?”
He fetched the book and I inscribed it to him, citing his magnificent catamaran and the cruise I’d taken on it.
“Thanks, Jessica. Are you, uh—?”
I cocked my head.
“Are you involved in some way with what happened to Mala Kapule?”
“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘involved.’”
“Rumors are floating around—I mean, some people are saying—uh, that she might not have been the victim of an accident. The cops questioned me, too. That was annoying. Of course, I was out on the water, so I wouldn’t know anything about how she died.”
“Really? As I understand it, the police are labeling her death an accident.”
“That’s a relief. Mala was a pain to a lot of people, but to think that someone might have killed her is—well, it’s ridiculous. Don’t you agree?”
“As a matter of fact—”
A brilliant bolt of lightning slashing through the sky on the horizon was
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