Forever Poi

by Tyler Colins

  “Possibly.” He leaned forward and scanned my face. “You look like hell, Fonne.”

  I managed a weak smile. “I feel like I've been there and back.”

  He winked and gently brushed the dressing. “Nice hat.”

  “It complements the gown.”

  He squeezed my hand and sat back. “I got statements from Xavier and Nedwick Oliver Higgins, the fellow who raced after the car. Are you up for providing your account of this morning?”

  I made a mental rewind, nodded once, and sighed. A dull ache was starting to spread along my scalp.

  * * *

  The hospital blinds were closed, but semi-subdued lighting emanated from the hallway through a partially closed door. It had to be after midnight.

  I didn't know why I'd pretended to take the meds, but now I wished I had. With no painkillers or sleeping aids, aches and pains and increasing restlessness were going to make for a very long night.

  After recounting dreamlike details re the confrontation with Haloa and Cholla, Ald and I chatted about inconsequential everyday things—like mochi and mooncakes, sunsets and ocean views. He'd finally left around nine with a promise of lunch next week—my treat. A host of emotions such as anger, regret, annoyance, and irritation ebbed and flowed as the morning played itself over and over again. Why hadn't I done more than leap behind a trash receptacle? Why hadn't I thought to bring a weapon?

  Slipping aside covers, I winced as a couple of sharp twinges served to remind of the bullet that could just as easily have entered my skull. Thanks to a very short, thin hospital gown, coolness washed over my legs. I peered across the dim room to the closet. Hopefully, Rey had brought a change of clothes because the thought of pulling on dirty, bloodied apparel wasn't appealing.

  I moseyed over. Clean jeans, a black T, a large silk scarf, and a hoodie hung within, and a small plastic bag revealed underwear. I could kiss that woman. Slowly and cautiously, I dressed, loosely arranged the scarf over my head, and slipped on flats worn that morning.

  Tempting as it was to sneak back home, I wasn't about to attempt it. I'd just as soon they performed another examination to confirm all was okay. Besides, who wanted to hunt down a cab at this time? Exercising sore legs and clearing mental cobwebs—and maybe finding a cup of hot coffee—seemed a better strategy.

  I peered into the hallway. On the opposite side, a couple of doors to the right, was an exit sign and stairs. On the left, several yards down, was the nurses' station where a nurse and orderly were conversing over a chart. As she slowly sauntered past, a middle-aged doctor glanced up from a tablet, perhaps an EHR, and greeted them with a perturbed brow. No destination or plan in mind, I headed down the corridor in the opposite direction.

  A small waiting room proved empty. The only sounds came from a humming A/C, low-volume TV, and nominal outside traffic. Ambling to the long window, I scanned a shadowy employee parking lot one-third full. Freshness emanated from the glass. The night was cool and breezy, and starry-bright. Palm trees swayed as if engaging in hula kuhi lima.

  A sizable black-and-white industrial clock on the far wall said it was quarter past one. The strangely silent place leaned toward eerie and a shiver capered up my spine. Maybe returning home wasn't such a bad idea. Rey had taken my purse, but the security guard on night duty at the condo would surely lend money to pay for a cab.

  With a final sweeping glance of the lot and walkway, I returned to my room to collect whatever belongings might still be there … only to find when I stepped back in, I wasn't alone.

  * * *

  “Did you miss me?” Cholla purred into my ear after grabbing me from behind.

  “Like endodontic work,” I spat, wincing as an arc of pain shot through me. “Don't you ever give up? Never mind. Stupid question.”

  She jammed the barrel of a gun into my neck. “Care to go for a drive?”

  “You managed to steal another car?” I gazed around for something that might serve as a weapon. A plastic cup or plate would do little but elicit laughter. The eating table, however, might pack a wallop … if I could loosen Cholla's firm hold, race over, and then have her wait good-naturedly until I returned to smack her with it. Chances of that? Nil.

  “I borrowed one.”

  “Where are we driving?”

  “You're driving.” Although her grip slackened, the weapon stayed firm. “We'll walk quietly down those stairs across the way. Remember: I'm right behind.”

  “I could scream blue murder when we're out there,” I warned.

  “You could, but a code blue is about to be announced—”

  “Thanks to you?”

  Her lips tickled my ear. “It shouldn't be much longer. The orderly—”

  An emergency sounded over the public address system.

  “Almost right on cue.”

  Medical staff were springing into action as we strolled down the corridor. When I hesitated before the exit door, she smacked the back of my head. I fought back a scream.

  Entering a bright stairwell that smelled of disinfectant, we began to navigate four flights. Action had to be taken—and fast.

  * * *

  Although she continued pressing the muzzle into my back as I led the way down the third flight, she was more concentrated on descending gleaming-clean steps than ensuring I remained compliant. This was a now-or-never moment if ever there was one and throbbing pain couldn't serve as a deterrent.

  I propelled an elbow into Cholla's ribcage.

  Stifling a groan, she tottered and grasped the guardrail in an effort to remain upright. As a result, the weapon clattered down a full flight of stairs. Whirling (and nearly clattering myself), I jabbed her full-force in the chest. As she toppled, she grasped my hoodie and succeeded in pulling me with her.

  We struck the intermediate landing with grunts and curses. The dressing loosened and stitches pulled. I wanted to scream with agony; she, undoubtedly, with rage. Her wig was askew and meticulously-applied make-up smeared. I must have looked equally comical with colorful facial bruises and darkish bags under wide, crazed eyes.

  Like brawlers at a Texas roadhouse, fists flew furiously. The gun was close, but not within reach. Whenever my hand stretched to retrieve it, hers cuffed and shoved.

  “Bitch.”

  “Vache.”

  An announcement could barely be heard above the swearing and name-calling, and struggling. I was tiring, but so was she.

  Then, it happened. Exactly how would be hard to recount, but the gun ended up in Cholla's hand and was aimed at my heart. Clutching her wrist, I diverted its direction—to my chin. This woman was She-Hulk strong, but given the adrenalin streaming through my veins, I wasn't Tinkerbell delicate either.

  With limbs flailing like hurricane-propelled wind turbines, we rolled. Suddenly, the gun discharged, tearing through the left side of my opponent's neck and exiting through the right.

  It was not a pretty sight. While her blood could be washed from my face and clothes, the image of those bewildered platinum-gray eyes would be forever etched in my memory hardware. Cholla Poniard was out for the [permanent] count.

  I was just out. Period.

  Chapter Fifty

  Upon awakening on an examination table and enduring more “poking and prodding” (Rey's earlier words), I'd been happy to toss back anesthetizing meds and loll around in a haze-filled stupor. Cholla had traveled to an unearthly realm—the bottomless pits of fire-and-brimstone Hell Rey had called it.

  At 10:30 a.m., I got two lime Jellos. One had arrived with a small bland bowl of oatmeal and the second courtesy of hound-dog-eyed begging: mine. Who knew the jiggly-wiggly stuff tasted so damn good?

  Linda arrived around 4:00 to escort me home. Gail, Ald, and Xavier were seated in the living room, doubling up re an apparently hysterically humorous story. Fresh pizzas and noshables lined the kitchen counter, and cans of soda and bottles of beer stood in a hammered copper ice bucket.

  While I was very happy to see their animated faces, the one that re
ally delighted me was Button's. Dressings covered raw palms, so petting was a bit of a challenge. “You're a sight for sore eyes and then some.”

  Rey held up a couple of cans of soda. “Name your poison.”

  I opted for no-name cola and parked myself in an armchair. I was still spacey, but able to focus. Glancing into the lanai, I noticed three floral arrangements. A white square vase held white English daisies and cinnabar carnations while a handled basket supported snapdragons, asters, and chrysanthemums. Decorative greens and countless long-stemmed, cranberry-red roses rested in a tall smoky vase.

  “Your not-so-secret admirers.” Rey passed a glass filled with soda and ice, and perched herself alongside, on an armrest.

  “The basket's from Mr. Detective here and the daisy-carnation arrangement from me.” Xavier toasted me with red wine.

  “They're lovely. Thank you.” I smiled and glanced at the roses.

  “Those are from your Florida-based sometimes boyfriend,” my cousin smirked. “The envelope was open, so I read the card. He wrote that he hopes you heal quickly … and the rest I won't repeat in mixed company.”

  I caught a transient scowl on Ald's face as he focused on Button, who'd rested her chin on her paws on his foot.

  “You've got a new friend,” Linda said merrily.

  “I've got a few,” he acknowledged, stroking her nose. “The pig and rabbit have also taken a liking to me.”

  I scanned the room. “Where are they?”

  “Napping on your bed,” Gail replied. “They were hyper-excited when I picked them up from Eddy's and crazy-excited when they got back here. They only just flaked out.”

  Envisioning the scene, I had to laugh.

  “How long do you have to wear that thing?” Xavier motioned my head.

  I frowned. “Too long.”

  Everyone chuckled and Rey got up to see to “orders”.

  “Maybe we should have bought champagne to celebrate this crazy case finally coming to a close,” she said, distributing pizza onto plates.

  “You mean celebrate the demise of a couple of crazies?” Linda asked wryly.

  I looked at Ald. “Is everything officially tied up?”

  “We have the answers regarding the whys. And the files to A's art gallery fires can be closed.” He sipped and shrugged. “There are related incidents that need to be investigated, reports filed and that sort of thing but, for the most part, it's pretty much a done deal.”

  Rey carried in a tray and held it out so that everyone could grab plates. “It doesn't feel like it's 'pretty much a done deal'.”

  Linda studied her friend. “Why? What's missing?”

  “It ended so … so suddenly.”

  Xavier asked, “Not climactic enough for you?”

  My cousin took a seat. “I guess not … considering how our last three major cases ended.”

  “How's that?”

  “With Hollywood suspense film finales: spine-tingling and unbelievable.”

  The rest of us laughed while Rey frowned, but a comical smile quickly warmed that lovely face and, like us, she settled into noshing.

  * * *

  Our HPD pals had left a little after eight while Xavier, Rey and Linda had stuck around until nine. The threesome were planning on visiting Angus some time before noon this gray, cool Monday. I'd wanted to accompany them, but they wouldn't hear of it, citing bed-rest as a no-argument must.

  Who could rest after all that transpired? After a restless night, the first thing done upon climbing out of bed this morning was a text to Gail to see if she might like to chauffeur the two of us around the coast. I felt a need to embrace the sun and wind, and revel in the simplicity of being. She'd responded quickly and promised to be in the lobby at 9:45.

  At 6:30, Button and I were seated in the lanai, me drinking coffee, she gnawing a fat rawhide stick. I'd debated taking a painkiller and then decided against it: discomfort was a notch or two above wooziness.

  Bobby Darren announced a call. Someone was up early.

  “Hey Fonne.”

  “… Hey.”

  Cash laughed, but not with humor. “I heard about the injury—”

  “Do you, like, have cameras and mikes, and/or confederates somewhere nearby?”

  “Let's say, I have my sources. How're you faring?”

  “I'm faring.”

  “Any icier and my ears will freeze. You still sore at me?”

  “We didn't exactly part on the greatest of terms,” I reminded him, walking to the kitchen for more coffee.

  “Couples have misunderstandings. They forgive and forget, kiss and make up.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Could you please stop being such a bitch?”

  “Bitch this.” I disconnected and looked down at Button, who was peering up with a smile. “Men.”

  She snorted and padded into the living room.

  I chuckled. Shower time. Gail wouldn't be here for a while, but given washing would prove a challenge, the earlier a start, the better.

  * * *

  Late morning found Gail and I driving along the Kalanianaole Highway in her shiny-red VW Cabriolet, black-cloth top up. While the sun had finally decided to make an appearance, given the temp leaned toward cool, Gail didn't want the winds blowing directly on my bruised and battered face. I was as fine with that as I didn't want the big floppy straw hat Linda had left at the door early this morning flying off.

  Forever sporting bright funky clothes, Gail's ensemble today consisted of gold ruffle-trimmed drawstring trousers and a coral mixed-stitch sweater. Her lips were always shiny cranberry, but her eyes were a new shade: sparrow brown. The woman must have expanded the contacts collection.

  “Thanks for spending your day off with me.”

  “What are friends for?” She glanced over the top of her round, black-rimmed glasses. “I'm all for a scenic drive.”

  “Lunch is on me.”

  “So's dinner.” She grinned. “How's the head?”

  “Hideous.”

  Gail laughed.

  “Besides being partially bald, I've got this damn ugly lumpy-bumpy stitched stripe.”

  “In a week, it'll—”

  “Week?”

  “Okay, in a month, you'll look as good as new—”

  “I'll have a scar and still be partially bald … because I'll be sporting a crew cut!”

  “Or a mullet.” Slapping my thigh, she put on K-pop.

  I gazed at her with a raised brow.

  “What? You don't like it?”

  “I do, but it's a little 'young', isn't it?” I smiled, envisioning the handful of abundantly attractive, teenaged K-pop bands I was familiar with.

  “It's fun, bubbly, make-you-feel-good music.”

  Who could argue with that? I settled in and we continued the pleasant drive, eventually stopping at a shrimp truck not far from Waimanalo Beach. The shrimp was delicious, the soda cold and sweet. It felt relaxing and refreshing to sit by the ocean—letting the breeze blow stroke our skin and being girly-girls as we chatted about nothing of consequence, save for sales, fashions, foods and favorite TV shows. She talked (giggled) a lot about Berk, who she was to develop a “fun-but-not-overly-serious” relationship with.

  Calories were burned off with a long, leisure walk along the soft white sands of Bellows Field Beach Park, which was lined with ironwood trees and protected by an offshore reef. The popular park was just what the doctor ordered.

  Before climbing back into the Cabriolet, we checked for messages.

  Gail gleefully announced a VM from Berk, asking if they could get together Thursday evening. “Do you think I could bring him up to your place for a bite? I wouldn't mind having him meet you three … and maybe Xavier.”

  “The more, the merrier,” I smiled.

  I deleted a text from Cash that read: I'll have a ticket to Florida for you later today. Pack up and come ASAP. I'll kiss your boo-boo better and then some.

  One of those Reynalda Fonne-Werde snorts escaped, a
nd noisily at that.

  “Something amusing?”

  “Very,” I replied flatly, but didn't elaborate because unread emails in the agency mailbox had caught my eye. I did a quick check. “Oh-oh.”

  “That sounded ominous.”

  “Maybe.” I showed her the message: It's been rumored that you ladies are real good at what you do. Obviously you are. Congrats on successfully closing another case. I like games. You? Maybe we can play together soon??? HA-HA-HA-HA

  Gail's expression darkened. “Great name. GrimReaperPeeper.”

  “A joke, you think?”

  “A really bad one.” She shook her head and turned on the engine. “Man, there are a lot of weird, sick people out there.”

  I murmured agreement and tucked the cell phone in my bag.

  “Where would you like to head next, hon?”

  “Anywhere that's nowhere near reality.”

  With a thumb's up, she headed mauka.

  End

  About the Author

  I possess numerous years of experience in freelance writing, editing and proofreading, as well as training in business communications and technical writing. My current focus: fiction (with the odd film script). I [still] plan to reside in Hawaii permanently and embrace America, a country I've been enamored with since childhood. Besides writing, my passions include the aforementioned land of Aloha, animals in all shapes and sizes, fitness, the Good Lord and spirituality.

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  Other titles by Tyler Colins

  The Connecticut Corpse Caper

  Can You Hula Like Hilo Hattie?