by Alan L. Moss
He paid the seven dollar greens fees and another ten to rent an electric golf cart. The young Samoan who took his money advised him to wait until the rest of his foursome arrived so he could take advantage of discounted rates reserved for Samoans. At those prices, Michael told him not to worry about it.
After hitting all the rental clubs in his bag — a mixed set of old Hogan Edge irons and Taylor Made woods — he figured the short game would be his biggest problem. The sand wedge had a large flange and would be difficult to use from the fairway. The pitching wedge came from an undetermined set of clubs and felt flimsy.
Michael moved from the driving range to the practice green and began putting two Titleists from one hole to the next. Although his practice putts ran true, the green seemed slow and a little bumpy around the holes.
He checked his watch. It was five minutes past one. He looked at the path that led to the pro shop and spotted Stephanie walking toward him from the parking lot. She could have been in one of those slow-motion commercials with her hair and blouse moving seductively in the wind.
Michael picked his Titleists off the practice green and turned to face her. Dressed in Bermuda shorts and a sleeveless white blouse with a green Izod alligator, she cut a tall, graceful figure.
“Sorry I’m a little late,” she said with a smile. “We had a slight problem getting out of the office. Anyway, what do you think of our course?”
“The course is beautiful. I didn’t know you were a golfer. Is George Partain joining us?”
“Well, I’m your partner, if that’s okay, and George is paired with Genevieve Trudeaux. She owns and manages the Agelu Lodge, just off the eighteenth green. Another foursome of friends will tee off right behind us.”
The rest of the golfing party arrived in the next fifteen minutes. Genevieve was very French and seemed a little contrary when introduced to Michael. George looked tired and preoccupied, but said he and Genevieve would have no trouble disposing of Michael and Stephanie if they would like to play a ten dollar Nassau. Stephanie said she and Michael would be glad to take their money.
The second foursome consisted of two rather large Samoan men and two men from Taiwan. The Samoans, both executive employees of the Federal Aviation Administration stationed at the airport, admitted they took two afternoons a week to play golf. They carried cell phones to catch any messages.
The two Taiwanese men were visitors staying at the Agelu Lodge. They spoke broken English and said they were in Samoa to see if they wanted to bid on the Rainbow Hotel complex, if the Samoan Government put it up for sale. Genevieve joked that if they wanted to be her competition, they better watch what they eat at her lodge.
As the match progressed, Michael couldn’t help but view Stephanie with wonder. She combined a soft allure with finely honed athletic skills. Although she protested, claiming she was having a lucky day, her full turn, feel around the greens, and bold putting undermined any such contention. After six consecutive pars, Michael could only conclude she was a scratch golfer.
On the seventh tee, a one-hundred and forty yard par three, their foursome had to wait. A player ahead continued to look for a ball in the high grass in front of a small pond guarding the left side of the green. Michael thought he’d take the opportunity to speak with Partain, who seemed unusually quiet. He approached the detective, sitting alone on his golf cart.
“Thanks for setting this up, George. It’s nice to relax for a change and enjoy a round of golf.”
Partain managed a half-smile.
“Glad to be of service. I hope you don’t mind being teamed with Stephanie. I figured she’d beat the crap out of each of us. As a guest, you might as well get close enough to savor the possibilities.”
“Well, thanks for that, too,” Michael answered, not sure where George was heading.
Before they could continue their conversation, the green cleared and they proceeded to the tee.
Given the rented clubs and strange course, Michael’s game held up, but couldn’t compare with Stephanie’s. He finished the day with eighty-seven, while Stephanie shot seventy-five. As a team, they won both sides of the Nassau, which didn’t seem to bother George as much as it did Genevieve. In addition to teasing George, who had an awful round, Stephanie chatted with her friends from the FAA.
At one point it got a little personal when she teased one of them about his sex life.
“Hey, Va’i,” she yelled from the fourteenth tee to the thirteenth green. “I heard your daughter came home from sex education and asked Irene what a climax was and she said she couldn’t remember.”
Without hesitation and with a big smile on his face, the man responded.
“Let’s see what kind of climax you have when I beat your score on number fourteen.”
Of course, Stephanie had a birdie and the FAA bureaucrat struggled for bogie six.
With all the kidding and side bets the round took five hours. At the finish, it was six twenty and the entire crew seemed worn by their time in the tropical sun. When Michael had trouble finding the men’s room, Stephanie directed him to a location under the restaurant’s deck. He found a crude facility reminding him of the men’s urinal at the University of Pennsylvania’s Franklin Field, where he watched football games with his dad in the early 1960s. When he came out, Stephanie, clearly blushing, asked him if it was okay.
“Sure,” he answered.
“By the way,” Stephanie said, “Genevieve is inviting the group over to the Agelu Lodge for drinks and dinner. I hope you can make it. If you like, I’ll drive with you, show you where to park.”
Under other circumstances, Michael might have thanked her for the invitation and begged off in the name of work, but, he was still hurting from Karen’s failure to answer the phone and something about the vulnerable look on Stephanie’s face made him want to support her. Spending a few hours with a group of fellow golfers could only do him good.
“That would be nice,” he said.
***
Michael placed their clubs on the back seat of the Escort and drove down the dirt road that led to Route No. 1. Before reaching the highway, Stephanie instructed Michael to turn right down an unpaved trail that led them to the lodge. He pulled into a parking lot below and to one side of the hotel.
Leaving the car, Stephanie said she needed to wash up and would be right back. Michael walked up to the lodge to look around.
The hotel was smaller than he anticipated. The two-story building offered four guestrooms and a comfortable lounge and bar just inside sliding glass doors. In front of the hotel was a stone patio, swimming pool, and raised eating area set up for their party. A charcoal grill and outside bar were on the lawn behind the eating space.
Michael walked to the bar and ordered two vodka tonics. When he tried to pay, the bartender informed him it was an open bar. He put Stephanie’s drink down on the dinner table as the rest of the golfers started to arrive.
The kidding and joking from the golf course picked up right where it left off. After a few more minutes, Stephanie walked over to join him. Michael took her drink from the table and offered it to her.
“Actually, I’m not a very good drinker,” she said with an intense look.
“Well, then, we’ll just have to keep drinking until you get it right,” he said.
George, the Samoans, and the Taiwanese engaged themselves in a discussion of world politics. Genevieve worked in the lodge’s kitchen to help prepare the meal. That left Michael and Stephanie alone, as though they were meeting for the first time at a backyard barbecue.
They seemed well aware of their other commitments and revealed no intention of going beyond a healthy friendship. Michael was pleasantly surprised at how well two people from such different cultures and locations could communicate. He hoped such common ground could be found with the Samoans on the Committee once the hearings began.
Eventually, they sat down at an umbrella table near the pool and the conversation turned to their life experiences. Michael told her ab
out how he worked his way through his Ph. D., how he met Karen, and about their two terrific children. He told her how much he was devoted to the mission of the Department of Labor, and how in recent years the average worker had not been adequately served.
Stephanie told him how she won a partial scholarship to Harvard.
“When I was seventeen, my mother convinced me to apply for a scholarship at Harvard. My grandfather graduated from there before he moved to Samoa.
“Anyway, at the time I really didn’t know what a university was, but she made it sound like a great adventure, so I went along. I won the scholarship and the Governor and many of the chiefs were so proud they raised the rest of the money I needed. They wanted me to show how a Samoan woman could thrive at an Ivy League university. Well, I didn’t win any honors but I graduated in four years, in 1983.”
“That’s a great accomplishment for anyone,” Michael said.
A second drink put a blush in her cheeks and loosened her guard. Stephanie revealed intimate details of her past.
“During my senior year, I fell in love with a fellow student from a wealthy New York family. They took me everywhere with them, teaching me how the rich live. His family owned a large newspaper syndicate based in New York City and their lifestyle was amazing. They took me on vacations to Pebble Beach where I took golf lessons, to Las Vegas where they gave me five-hundred dollars a day to play the slots, and to Vale, Colorado, where I learned how to ski.
“I loved Josh for all he and his folks did for me, but, when we graduated and I suggested marriage, he made me feel cheap, like all he wanted me for was an attractive companion and partner in bed. So, I left him and the Mainland and moved back to Samoa. I got a job working for the Governor and made the best of it.”
Stephanie emptied her drink and Michael could see the color drain from her face.
“After a couple of years, I married the son of a Samoan chief and we started a traditional household. I left the Governor’s office and accepted a job at the Visitors Information Bureau so I could work regular hours and focus on our family. We had three beautiful children, two boys and a girl.”
Her body tensed.
“In 1992, John, my oldest, developed a staph infection and I rushed him to the JFK Medical Center. The doctors there bungled his treatment and I had to watch my angel suffer and die.”
Tears ran down her cheeks and she paused to wipe them away.
“I pray you never have to watch one of your children lose his life. It was my fault, not giving the kids a safe and humane place to grow up.”
Michael, looking into her tearful eyes and running solely on emotion, placed his hand on hers. It was the first time he touched her. It was, he thought, the only way he had to let her know he was sharing in her loss.
“Anyway, after that, we had another baby, who is the light of my life. In the past few years, my husband and I have grown apart. I don’t know if it’s because we lost a child or because we seem to want different things. Most Samoan men have little interest in raising kids or providing a better home. Instead, they play sports, fish, and try to hang onto their youth.”
As if on cue, Genevieve appeared and announced that dinner was ready. Michael and Stephanie moved to the dinner table and sat down, leaving their sadness behind.
CHAPTER 14
SEDUCTION
June 1, 2001
Li’ili Village, American Samoa
“With Genevieve cooking, you’re in for a treat,” Stephanie said, wiping away the remnants of her tears.
The meal included a shrimp appetizer, choice of charcoal-broiled sirloin steak or tuna, papaya pudding, and red or white wine or Vailima beer.
Happily, the conversation turned to small talk, movies, television, and music. The group stayed around the table drinking and talking for hours. To the delight of the Samoans, about eleven o’clock a heavyset woman with a straw hat and guitar came over to their table. With a smile and sly look on her face, Stephanie introduced Michael to her.
“This is Hinemoa. She’s the Governor’s sister. We always have music at Samoan parties. She’s a wonderful musician. Almost all Samoans sing and many play musical instruments. While you watch television, we talk and sing.”
Before long, Hinemoa was given a chair at the head of the table. She played and sang with most of the group joining-in. A few of her songs were religious but most were pop hits from the 1960s to 1980s. As they consumed more wine and beer, the golfers grew louder and freer with the lyrics. After three or four songs, Hinemoa addressed the group.
“Talofa. At all Samoan parties, the guests who are not Samoan must earn their meal by giving the host or hostess at least one song. Now, we will have the honor of being entertained by our non-Samoan friends.”
At first, the two Taiwanese businessmen seemed puzzled by Hinemoa’s request. George said something in broken Chinese and they smiled and nodded. Looking mostly at each other, they sang a Chinese lullaby a cappella and got roaring applause from the group.
Michael didn’t have a clue as to what he might sing. He had been in choir in high school and had a good voice, but under pressure he drew a blank. One of the Samoans, seeing the empty look on his face, yelled out.
“Sing Elvis!”
Somehow, with no explanation, the words to “Can’t Help Falling in Love with You” flooded his memory and he began to sing, with Hinemoa accompanying him as if she knew the song by heart.
Another thunderous ovation was offered and Michael was relieved to be off the hook.
“You really have a good voice,” Stephanie said. “We’ll have to invite you to all our parties.”
As the night wore on, Michael’s weariness returned. He knew the off-Island Committee members would be arriving Friday night and he wanted to be ready for them. As soon as one or two of the guests left, he would be next.
Hinemoa said she would sing one more song and Stephanie requested “Help Me Make It through the Night.”
Michael felt a hand on his knee. He looked into Stephanie’s eyes as she sang along.
“Yesterday is dead and gone
And tomorrow’s out of sight
I don’t want to be alone
Help me make it through the night.”
Before he could react, the group applauded as Genevieve approached the table with a waiter, each of them carrying a tray of coconut halves.
“Because we have such special guests tonight, we are going to conduct our variation of the ancient Ava ceremony. Each of you will receive a coconut half containing Ava. This drink is derived from the ground root of the pepper plant piper methysticum. It contains many mysterious ingredients that together will improve your health and your disposition. Unfortunately, George, it will not add to your height or improve your golf game.”
At that, the group, less the private detective, roared their approval.
Genevieve continued.
“When I call your name, pour a few drops of your potion onto the ground, say manuio Ava, and drink the remainder.”
As she called their names, each followed her instructions. Michael looked at Stephanie as he downed his drink, which tasted like dishwater. When it was Stephanie’s turn, she looked into Michael’s eyes and poured the substance through open lips.
With the ceremony over, Michael looked at his watch. It was close to two o’clock. George and one of the Samoans left, so he felt free to go without offending his hostess. Michael turned to Stephanie telling her he had work to do in the morning and needed to get back to the Parrot and Porpoise.
“With the Committee members arriving soon and the hearings beginning on Monday, I don’t think I’ll have time to socialize again, but thanks for a terrific round of golf and a good time tonight.”
Stephanie stared at him, smiled slightly, but said nothing.
Speaking to those left at the table, Michael said it had been a fun day and he appreciated the opportunity to meet all of them. He walked over to Genevieve, kissed her on the cheek, and thanked her for being the pe
rfect hostess.
Michael started to walk to the car but felt a little woozy. After a few steps, Stephanie appeared at his side.
“I forgot. My golf clubs are in your back seat. I’ll walk down with you and put them in the lodge until I’m ready to leave.”
The more he walked, the weaker Michael felt. He consumed more than his share of alcohol but prided himself on holding his liquor. He was unsure about the way he felt. With the car in sight, his knees became weak and he wobbled, with Stephanie catching him.
“That Ava has different effects on some people. You shouldn’t drive until you’re feeling steadier. Let me help you back up to the lodge. We can sit it out until the buzz wears off.”
Unable to argue, Michael put his arm around her shoulders. They walked the short path from the parking lot to the lodge. For the first time he noticed her perfume and glanced down her blouse, which seemed more open than before.
Just inside the front door, with Michael holding on, Stephanie whispered.
“I planned to sleep here tonight if the party ran late. Rather than sitting out here in the lounge, let’s go to my room so you can lie down and relax.”
If he had his wits about him, Michael would have considered the likely consequences of Stephanie’s invita-tion, but, feeling he would pass out at any moment, he followed her.
They walked down the hall to Room No. 4. She opened the door. He went in and stretched out on the queen-sized bed in the center of the room. He could hear the gurgling of a creek outside the patio doors that were open a bit. In less than a minute, he was out.
***
Stephanie looked down at this man in her bed. She remembered his calls from Washington when she helped him plan the hearings. She was so impressed with his thoroughness and genuine concern for Samoa’s workers.
More than once she fantasized that when he arrived on the Island she would pursue him, but then she would decide that he must be old, short, fat, balding, and otherwise thoroughly unattractive.
