Aloha Betrayed by Donald Bain, Jessica Fletcher Page B

have to drive me back to the hotel,” I said as he leaned forward to better see through the windshield.
    “Not a problem,” he said. “You have plans for later?”
    I hesitated before I admitted, “Nothing specific. I was thinking I might stop by Mala’s home.”
    “Why?”
    “Oh, I don’t know, just to pay my respects, maybe gain a sense of how she lived, feel close to her.”
    “That’s as good an excuse as any,” he said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “You’re convinced that she didn’t fall off that cliff by accident, aren’t you?”
    I gave him an ironic smile. “You’re reading my mind.”
    “Maybe you’re reading
my
mind. Know where she lived?”
    “No.”
    “I can find out easily enough.”
    “Oh, Mike, I’ve taken you from your family too much already.”
    “Lani will understand. I’ll call her.”
    I was pleased that he offered to go with me, and didn’t protest any further. He called on his cell phone and left a message on his home answering machine: “Driving Mrs. Fletcher to see where Mala Kapule lived. Don’t hold dinner for me in case we run late. Love you, baby.”
    Obviously the Kanes had a solid, trusting marital relationship, much the same as my husband Frank and I enjoyed when he was alive. I love being around couples who exhibit that sort of easy acceptance of each other and their individual needs and aspirations. It was a bittersweet moment. I sighed at the remembrance, sat back, and enjoyed the sound of rain pelting the roof of the SUV. I was content; I was not the only one who suspected intrigue behind Mala’s untimely death.

Chapter Ten
    E Komo Mai —Welcome, Come In
    M ike checked the telephone directory and got Mala’s address, which he told me was close to the airport and the college and not far from where I was staying in Kahului.
    I had assumed that he would have asked the police for the information, and said so.
    “Yeah, I could have called in for it, but sometimes if you do it yourself, it’s faster,” he said. “Also, this way we don’t raise any eyebrows. Not that anyone would have objected, but they don’t have to know my business all the time.”
    Twenty minutes later we pulled into the driveway of an unassuming two-story house with a fancy red sports car in the carport.
    Mike whistled. “That’s some set of wheels.”
    The rain had stopped, and a young man and woman who’d been sitting on the small porch in front stood at our arrival and came down the three steps to greet us.
    “
Aloha
. I’m Mike Kane. This is Jessica Fletcher.”
    “Aloha,”
the woman said. The man shook Mike’s hand.
    “This was where Mala Kapule lived?” Mike asked.
    “Yes,” replied the woman. “You’re friends?”
    “Not exactly,” Mike said.
    “I knew her,” I said, “but not well. We met at the college where she taught.”
    “You’re aware that—?”
    “That she died?” I said. “Yes. Are you related to her?”
    “Cousins,” said the man. “I’m Joshua. This is Lily.”
    The sound of voices from inside the house reached us. Lily said, “Other cousins.”
    “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said.
    “I’ve heard your name,” Joshua said to Mike. “Is this an official visit?”
    “I’m former Maui PD, retired, so this is more like an unofficial visit. Mrs. Fletcher wanted to see where Mala lived and—”
    I completed Mike’s statement. “I wanted to extend my condolences to the family, and I have a letter from a friend back home for Mala’s aunt, Mrs. Barrett Kapule, but I don’t know where she lives. Perhaps one of you could give me directions to her home.”
    “You can give it to Auntie Edie right now. She’s inside,” Lily said.
    “Oh, thank you.” I reached into a pocket in my shoulder bag and withdrew the letter from Seth that I had promised to deliver. His words of condolence were about his friend Barrett, but now the Kapule family had a second bereavement to contend with.
    “Would you mind telling us what you’ve been told