Maui Widow Waltz (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) by JoAnn Bassett Page A

she’s home,” Steve said,
coming over to escort me in. Two brawny men stood by the sofa—one tall, one
medium height. Hatch was stretched out in his usual prone position.
    Steve made the introductions.
“Pali, this is Paul and Marty. They work with Hatch at the fire department.”
    “Pleasure,” said the two guys in
unison as they each gave me an index-finger salute. I looked them up and down.
I mean, who wouldn’t? Even though their height and coloring was different—one
dark, one reddish-blond—they were specimens of manhood that would do a Marine
recruiting poster proud. Broad-shoulders, well-muscled arms, intelligent
eyes—the full meal deal. Each wore navy pants and a short-sleeved blue shirt
with a Maui Fire Department patch on the sleeve. After my usual check-out
routine I looked at their left hands. Yep, a plain gold band on each. What kind
of karma was throwing all this unavailable testosterone at me lately? It
was as cruel as stocking a diabetic’s house with candy.
    Steve said, “I’ll leave you to all
to get acquainted. I need to go down to my studio and make some prints.” He
leaned in and whispered to me, “Looks like our pal Lisa Marie’s hired a
publicist to send wedding announcements to every newspaper on the west coast.
She’s having me make up fifty copies of a rather mediocre snapshot of her with
Brad. Maybe she’s not so sure he’ll show up for the wedding after all.”
    When Steve left I mumbled my nice
to meet you’s to the guys and turned to head upstairs.
    “Hey, don’t run off,” the first
guy—was it Paul?—said. “We want to thank you for taking in Hatch.”
    I turned back around.
    “Oh, it’s nothing. He’s easy.”
    “That he is,” said the second guy.
Everybody—but me—laughed.
    I felt my cheeks heat up. I
couldn’t believe I was feeding straight lines to a trio of spoken-for firemen.
    “No, really,” the second guy went
on, “it was really nice of you. We’re both married and, although we love this
guy and feel real bad about what happened, our wives pretty much have their
hands full.” 
    “Can I get you something to drink?”
I said. “Maybe a soda or a beer?” I probably didn’t have either in the house,
but it seemed polite to at least offer. 
    “ Mahalo , but no,” said the
first guy. “We gotta roll. We’re expecting another crazy shift tonight.” He
turned to Hatch. “We had six big call-outs last time. One was another major
wreck at almost the same place where you went man against machine.” 
    “Everybody okay?” Hatch said.
    “Our guys are fine, but the driver
was a fatal. A woman no more’n thirty. ”
    The mood downshifted.
    “Hey,” said the second guy. “But we
got her baby out in pretty good shape. The guys on Ladder Two grabbed the
spreaders, and bam! popped that little dude outta there in no time.”
    “Spreaders?” I said. I didn’t like
the sound of that.
    “Yeah, extradition spreaders—you
know, ‘Jaws of Life’? We had to rip open the back door to get him out of his
car seat.”
    All three guys nodded an unspoken
‘Amen.’
    They talked shop for a couple of
minutes and when there was a break I said my alohas and started up the
stairs. Just beyond the landing, out of sight, I stopped and listened.
    “You’re right, she’s nice. Maybe’s
it’s time to take the leap. How much does she know?” It was the first guy’s
voice.
    Guy number two weighed in. “Yeah,
what’d you tell her?”
    “Look, she’s my landlady, not a
blind date,” said Hatch.
    “Still. Seems you ought to come
clean. My wife says a woman can handle anything but a lie.”
    “I’m not lying, I’m being discreet.
Besides, I’ll be gone in a month and she’ll forget I was ever here.”
    “I seriously doubt that, dude.”
    There was a moment of silence and
then the first guy said, “We better run.”
    “Thanks for stopping by,” said
Hatch. “Tell the chief I’m raring to get back.”
    “Will do. And hey, you take care