porcelain doll. You’re not writing any of this down.”
“I have a good memory,” I said. “Did she give you anything more concrete than that?”
“She’s not alone,” he said.
“You mean she’s not the first victim?”
“All I know is that there are other spirits who wanted to communicate with me about this. It didn’t make a lot of sense to me then and it doesn’t now. But I’m sure it will become clear as time goes on.”
“The spirits said they’d call back?”
He rose from his stool and gave me a smile, this one full of amusement. Swift had quite a repertoire of smiles.
“Spirits this disturbed never stay quiet. They’ll persist until their message is heard.”
I was right not to take Swift to see Monk. Not only was none of his gibberish the least bit helpful, but he was obviously an attention-seeking fraud, trying to horn in on whatever publicity might arise from the murder investigation.
Swift started to walk away, then he stopped and looked over his shoulder at me.
“Mitch still likes that bikini on you,” Swift said, nodding with approval. “I can see why.”
I felt a shiver, as if Mitch himself had brushed his lips against the back of my neck.
10
Mr. Monk Rents a Car
I got a towel, wrapped it around my waist, and went to the lobby, Dylan Swift and his messages from beyond still very much on my mind.
I was on my way to the elevators when I saw Monk at one of the kiosks in the wide shopping arcade. The stand was made to look like a beach hut and was devoted to island jewelry. Monk was methodically sorting through the display of shark-tooth necklaces, to the obvious displeasure of the middle-aged Hawaiian proprietress behind the counter.
“Shopping, Mr. Monk?” I said as I approached.
Monk turned around, saw me in my bikini top, and looked right over my head. “I don’t shop.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Having fun. That’s what a vacation is for, isn’t it?”
“It’s okay if you look at me.”
“I don’t think so.” He shifted his gaze back to the necklaces, which he was rearranging on a little carousel necklace tree. Each necklace had a single white shark tooth dangling from it.
“We’re at the beach. All the women here are wearing swimsuits, tank tops, or halters,” I said. “Look around and you’ll see.”
“I’d rather not.”
“They’re breasts, Mr. Monk, not wild animals.”
“That’s how they behave.”
I sighed, giving up. “So if you’re not shopping, what are you doing?”
“I’m arranging the teeth by type of shark and where they belong in the jaw.”
“You call that fun?”
The proprietress groaned in misery.
Monk nodded enthusiastically, continuing to sort the necklaces. “It’s a blast. There are about thirty-three kinds of sharks in Hawaii, and some have as many as thirteen rows of teeth. An average shark sheds eighteen hundred teeth a year, fifty thousand in a lifetime. There are all kinds of shark teeth on the necklaces here, hundreds of them, in no order whatsoever.”
“So it’s like a giant, enormously complex jigsaw puzzle.”
“You can’t do this at home. Only in Hawaii,” Monk said. “I was lucky there wasn’t a line when I got here.”
“Or anybody since,” the proprietress muttered.
“You can actually tell the difference between one shark tooth and another?” I asked.
Monk snorted derisively. “Of course. Who can’t?”
“How long have you been here?”
“I’ve lost track of time in all the excitement.”
“Three hours,” the proprietress said. It was obvious by the stony expression on her unhappy face that she’d felt every single second of those hours pass by.
“I haven’t had this much fun since those summers when my brother and I would shell a large bag of roasted peanuts, mix everything up, and compete to see who could reassemble the most nuts. Then we’d eat them. Those were some wild, wild times.”
Looking past Monk, I noticed Lance Vaughan at the front desk
“I have a good memory,” I said. “Did she give you anything more concrete than that?”
“She’s not alone,” he said.
“You mean she’s not the first victim?”
“All I know is that there are other spirits who wanted to communicate with me about this. It didn’t make a lot of sense to me then and it doesn’t now. But I’m sure it will become clear as time goes on.”
“The spirits said they’d call back?”
He rose from his stool and gave me a smile, this one full of amusement. Swift had quite a repertoire of smiles.
“Spirits this disturbed never stay quiet. They’ll persist until their message is heard.”
I was right not to take Swift to see Monk. Not only was none of his gibberish the least bit helpful, but he was obviously an attention-seeking fraud, trying to horn in on whatever publicity might arise from the murder investigation.
Swift started to walk away, then he stopped and looked over his shoulder at me.
“Mitch still likes that bikini on you,” Swift said, nodding with approval. “I can see why.”
I felt a shiver, as if Mitch himself had brushed his lips against the back of my neck.
10
Mr. Monk Rents a Car
I got a towel, wrapped it around my waist, and went to the lobby, Dylan Swift and his messages from beyond still very much on my mind.
I was on my way to the elevators when I saw Monk at one of the kiosks in the wide shopping arcade. The stand was made to look like a beach hut and was devoted to island jewelry. Monk was methodically sorting through the display of shark-tooth necklaces, to the obvious displeasure of the middle-aged Hawaiian proprietress behind the counter.
“Shopping, Mr. Monk?” I said as I approached.
Monk turned around, saw me in my bikini top, and looked right over my head. “I don’t shop.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Having fun. That’s what a vacation is for, isn’t it?”
“It’s okay if you look at me.”
“I don’t think so.” He shifted his gaze back to the necklaces, which he was rearranging on a little carousel necklace tree. Each necklace had a single white shark tooth dangling from it.
“We’re at the beach. All the women here are wearing swimsuits, tank tops, or halters,” I said. “Look around and you’ll see.”
“I’d rather not.”
“They’re breasts, Mr. Monk, not wild animals.”
“That’s how they behave.”
I sighed, giving up. “So if you’re not shopping, what are you doing?”
“I’m arranging the teeth by type of shark and where they belong in the jaw.”
“You call that fun?”
The proprietress groaned in misery.
Monk nodded enthusiastically, continuing to sort the necklaces. “It’s a blast. There are about thirty-three kinds of sharks in Hawaii, and some have as many as thirteen rows of teeth. An average shark sheds eighteen hundred teeth a year, fifty thousand in a lifetime. There are all kinds of shark teeth on the necklaces here, hundreds of them, in no order whatsoever.”
“So it’s like a giant, enormously complex jigsaw puzzle.”
“You can’t do this at home. Only in Hawaii,” Monk said. “I was lucky there wasn’t a line when I got here.”
“Or anybody since,” the proprietress muttered.
“You can actually tell the difference between one shark tooth and another?” I asked.
Monk snorted derisively. “Of course. Who can’t?”
“How long have you been here?”
“I’ve lost track of time in all the excitement.”
“Three hours,” the proprietress said. It was obvious by the stony expression on her unhappy face that she’d felt every single second of those hours pass by.
“I haven’t had this much fun since those summers when my brother and I would shell a large bag of roasted peanuts, mix everything up, and compete to see who could reassemble the most nuts. Then we’d eat them. Those were some wild, wild times.”
Looking past Monk, I noticed Lance Vaughan at the front desk
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