Maui Magic

by Terry Ambrose

  MAUI MAGIC

  trouble in paradise

  a mckenna mystery

  Terry Ambrose

  Copyright

  MAUI MAGIC

  ASIN: B06WGYZYJR

  Copyright © 2017 by Terry Ambrose

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover photo by Depositphotos.com

  Cover design by Pen2Ink Designs and is reproduced by permission.

  About the Author

  Once upon a time, in a life he’d rather forget, Terry Ambrose tracked down deadbeats for a living. He also hired big guys with tow trucks to steal cars—but only when negotiations failed. Those years of chasing deadbeats taught him many valuable life lessons such as—always keep your car in the garage.

  Today, Terry likes fast, funny mysteries and cool photography. When he’s not writing, he’s out looking for that next amazing photo to share. Find him at terryambrose.com.

  Find Terry’s books on Amazon: amazon.com/Terry-Ambrose/e/B008NR7QZ4

  Twitter: twitter.com/suspense_writer

  Facebook: facebook.com/suspense.writer

  Books by Terry Ambrose

  McKenna Mysteries

  Photo Finish

  Kauai Temptations

  Big Island Blues

  Mystery of the Lei Palaoa

  Honolulu Hottie

  North Shore Nanny

  A Damsel for Santa

  License to Lie Series

  License to Lie

  Con Game

  A Lei Crime Kindle World

  Tough Choices

  Stealing Honolulu

  Anthologies with Stories

  Paradise, Passion, Murder: 10 Tales of Mystery From Hawai‘i

  Happy Homicides 3: Summertime Crimes

  Happy Homicides 4: Fall Into Crime

  Contents

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Books by Terry Ambrose

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  Author’s Notes

  1

  “My father ordered my mother online.” Mrs. Nakamura’s smile revealed straight teeth, slightly yellowed with age, framed by thin lips.

  Benni Kapono sat in the seat next to mine. She laughed and rested a hand on Mrs. Nakamura’s knee. “Oh, Auntie, you’re too much. When were your parents married?”

  Mrs. Nakamura patted Benni’s hand, then clasped it in her bony claw. “The marriage ceremony took place on the wharf in Honolulu. The year was 1923, and we did not have the Internet, but she was a picture bride. My father had immigrated from Japan two years before. He came to Hawai‘i as a contract laborer in the cane fields, a young man with many ideals and vision. He always said the moment he first saw Hawai‘i from the ship, he knew he would never return to Japan. There was so much unrest at home. He saw Hawai‘i as his passage to a better life.”

  My girlfriend had gotten more out of Mrs. Nakamura in twenty minutes than I had in four years. Four. Long. Years. That’s when the old woman began renting at the Sunsetter Apartments.

  Our little Hawaiian Airlines flight had 3-2 seating. Three people crammed on one side, two on the other. Cramped as though the accommodations might feel, it beat the heck out of the mainland flights. This was spacious compared to the knee-cracking seats the long flights called coach. With me on the aisle, Benni in the middle, and Mrs. Nakamura in the window seat, I had a bit of distance from the old woman. I felt content to sit back and enjoy the ride while they bonded.

  Benni and I are opposites in many ways. She had a knack for making friends. She knew her emotions and didn’t hold them at bay, which was one of my biggest challenges. And speaking of challenges, I should take this opportunity to do a little bonding myself.

  I leaned forward to peer around Benni, making sure to keep my head away from the seat in front of mine. Call the defensive measure self-preservation. The restless giant in the seat ahead of mine had a nasty habit of changing his reclining angle every few minutes. “Those were tough times, Mrs. Nakamura.”

  The giant’s seat shuddered. I jerked back just in time to avoid the collision.

  Benni turned to me and smiled, oblivious to my narrow escape. She put a hand on my arm and smiled. “Auntie has such great stories.”

  I’d swear the old woman just shot a few daggers at me behind Benni’s back. Once a schoolteacher, always a schoolteacher? Had she issued me a warning? Don’t get out of line, McKenna. If you do, you’re in detention. I’m watching.

  “My father was a master of politics,” Mrs. Nakamura said.

  “Oh?” Benni’s voice lit up with renewed interest, and she turned away from me again.

  “Yes, he understood many things. The anger against the Japanese on the mainland. I do not know if he expected the political repercussions to occur so quickly, but he saw the changes coming.” She paused and the creases on her face deepened. Her voice took on a harder edge. “Congress closed the borders to Japanese immigration shortly after he brought my mother from Japan. It was wise for him to marry when he did. The borders remained closed to Japanese for almost thirty years.”

  Had Mrs. Nakamura finally disclosed the reason she didn’t like me? I was Caucasian. Did she harbor resentment over legislation nearly a century old? She’d taught so many kids during her forty years as an elementary school teacher in Hawai‘i. Or could the reason be more personal? Perhaps I reminded her of a difficult student. The one she couldn’t fix. It could explain why she kept me at arm’s length while treating Benni so like her daughter.

  “I’ve heard the couples often met for the first time during the marriage ceremony.” Benni shook her head in wonder. “I can’t imagine it.”

  Mrs. Nakamura’s lined face crinkled. She stared into space for a second, then responded. “Yes, child, they met for the first time on the wharf. Everyone wanted a better life. My mother did not want to stay in Japan. But, girls did not have the same options as boys in those days. It was not uncommon for young girls to marry men they did not know.”

  “So I’ve heard. We’ve come a long ways thanks to women like your mother.” Benni shot a quick glance in my direction as if to say, “Remembe
r this point.”

  “Yes, child. They were pioneers in a sense. But, many made the same sacrifice. Many others married alongside my mother that day. The matches were arranged by a baishakunin. Here we call them shimpai. Altogether, twelve other young women became wives on the wharf that day. Each marriage was recorded in the husband’s koseki. Do you know what a koseki is, child?”

  “It’s the family registry. Yah?”

  “You were always such a good student.” Mrs. Nakamura smiled at Benni. She clasped Benni’s hand in both of hers. “It is how each marriage is made official under Japanese law. It was one of the many parts of the culture the issei brought with them.”

  I hadn’t heard the term issei before. Would Mrs. Nakamura like me more if she thought me an interested pupil? Deep down, I did find her family history interesting, so why not ask? I kept one hand on the seat in front of me and leaned forward again. “What does issei mean, Mrs. Nakamura? I don’t think I’ve heard the word before.”

  The wrinkled skin around the old woman’s eyes crinkled as her gaze flicked past Benni. I do believe I even caught the hint of a smile on her face.

  “Japanese immigrants,” she said. “Their children, those born here, are nissei.”

  I nodded my understanding. Our different cultures fascinated me despite the occasional, and inevitable, confusing customs. “Living here is like enrolling in language immersion courses. You get Chinese, Japanese, Portuguese, and Filipino all at the same time.”

  The comment earned me a nod and a raise of the eyebrows. She even sort of smiled at me. Perhaps I was making progress with the old bag.

  Benni’s attention remained fixed on Mrs. Nakamura. I could see how fondly the former teacher remembered Benni. Good student. All wide eyes and smiles. That’s how she got me, too. But, I couldn’t visualize the two of us opting for a mass wedding ceremony with a dozen strangers. To be concise, not happening.

  “Mr. McKenna is having trouble with this.” Mrs. Nakamura smiled as she pointed at me. “I can see it on his face. You do not understand such customs, do you?”

  “I kind of do. Not completely, but in desperate times...” I winked at Benni and flashed her my best leading-man smile.

  She turned and hit me on the shoulder—perhaps with more force than necessary. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “What? Marriage? Or a mass ceremony?”

  Thank goodness Mrs. Nakamura’s puritanical values saved my bacon.

  “This is a discussion you two should conduct in private. Yah?”

  Mrs. Nakamura looked harmless enough, but she had an air of authority in her voice. She was the picture of a friendly grandmother smiling and talking to a favored grandchild. “You are a good girl. Your brother was a bit of a problem when he attended my class, but you were always very industrious and behaved well.”

  “Wait, you really were in her class?” I gaped at the two women.

  “Fourth grade,” Mrs. Nakamura beamed at me. “She was my top student.”

  Oh, for crying out loud. Was that how Benni got away with calling her Auntie? She was still benefiting from her brown nosing in elementary school? Oh man, talk about unfair. No wonder the old woman didn’t like me. I was playing against a stacked deck; I’d never met the woman before becoming her landlord.

  “You should call her Auntie,” Benni whispered. “She won’t mind.”

  I swallowed hard and whispered, “No way. She hates me.”

  Benni rolled her eyes and turned away. Was that a challenge she’d just issued? Calling an elder Auntie was one of the many customs blended into our polyglot culture. I wouldn’t think of trying it with Mrs. Nakamura. I couldn’t breach the formality barrier with her for one simple reason, she intimidated me to no end. To be blunt, Mrs. Nakamura scared me. Period. But, if Benni’s eye roll meant she considered me a wimp, it could compel me to take on the challenge. Just not yet.

  “It must have been a difficult voyage from Japan,” Benni said.

  “My father often spoke of his trip. They ran into high seas and the quarters were cramped. He said it was the worst fourteen days of his life—days he would never want to repeat. He often joked he married, not to have children, but to avoid the return journey.” Mrs. Nakamura’s facial muscles softened as her attention faded into her thoughts again. “He was a wonderful father.”

  “How many brothers and sisters do you have, Auntie?”

  “Four brothers, three sisters. Two brothers enlisted and were assigned to Military Intelligence during World War II.” She paused and her eyes misted over. “Both were killed in action.”

  The overhead speakers blasted the inevitable announcement and drowned out Mrs. Nakamura.

  “Flight attendants, prepare for landing.”

  I’d learned a lot about my tenant on this flight. Perhaps I’d misjudged her. The old bat wasn’t so bad. I could always learn more about her back home. For now, we’d done our duty. Once we landed, we would drive her to Lāhainā and drop her off at her granddaughter’s home. If I got lucky, when she returned to Honolulu, she’d want to gush over her great-grandchild. I’d let her ramble on. Maybe she’d even forget she didn’t like me. It wouldn’t change the truth, Mrs. Nakamura still petrified me.

  2

  I should point out that the “we” in the “drive Mrs. Nakamura to Lāhainā” was a reference to Chance Logan. Chance had volunteered to serve as our designated driver the moment he learned we were flying to Lāhainā. He and his girlfriend Lexie were in the First Class section.

  It was foolish to fly First Class on a plane trip that’s practically over before it’s begun. This was one of those flights where it took longer to taxi, take off, and land than it did to fly. Airtime was just over twenty minutes, not much less than Chance’s age.

  Then again, Chance came from money. His trust fund was big enough to make him a target for every hot-blooded temptress this side of LA, yet he’d fallen in love with the classic girl next door. Don’t get me wrong, Lexie is gorgeous, but she was not the type to partake in midnight trysts with strange men. Her family was well off, but Lexie also doesn’t seem very interested in money. So, the tall, sandy-haired kid with blue eyes and the island beauty had become an item—a very hot item—after one lunch.

  This trip came about by serendipity. Chance wanted to get away with Lexie, Mrs. Nakamura needed an escort for her visit, and I had a strange urge to make peace with the old woman. The urge started the day Mrs. Nakamura told Benni to call her Auntie. For an inexplicable reason, I found myself unable to bridge the gap between me and Mrs. Nakamura.

  “McKenna?”

  Startled, I turned to look at Benni. She was staring at me, concern in her eyes. I had to face the truth, and admit I loved this woman enough to marry her. And, through a convoluted string of reasoning, I’d arrived at the conclusion I should make nice with Mrs. Nakamura.

  “Why are you so afraid of flying?”

  I examined the white knuckles gripping the armrests. Mine. Oh, now I understood why she thought I’d been dwelling on the landing. Better than having her think I was worried about the whole thing with Mrs. Nakamura.

  “You didn’t answer my question. What’s with the airplane phobia?”

  I guess she wasn’t about to let up. “Ahem, I’m not. It’s the landings that get me. I even almost kind of like the takeoff part.”

  Benni rolled her eyes, obviously not comprehending how this whole fear thing worked. Her perseverance was another challenge for me. There was nothing wrong with it. Quite the contrary. She dared me to be better, so we’d developed a little ritual of making playful bets.

  As a result of our bets, I felt challenged to improve my relationship with Mrs. Nakamura. In some ways I kind of liked the old lady. But, she had a way of making me feel like I was ten all over again and scared the crap out of me.

  “What is it about landings that freaks you out?” She poked
my arm and pointed out the side window. “Look, we’ve got plenty of engines.”

  “But that’s exactly it. This is a flying rock. What happens if more than one goes out? What if we run out of gas? Or the pilot makes a wrong turn?”

  She dropped her hand to my thigh. “You really need to focus on something else.”

  Okay, that caught me off guard. I swallowed hard. Feeling her hand on my leg and gazing into her eyes did give me other ideas. The kind Hawaiian Airlines might not appreciate.

  I doubted if they wanted an old geezer attempting to join the Mile High Club with his girlfriend on their plane. They definitely wouldn’t appreciate it during a landing. I could just hear the pilot when I begged him to circle the island one more time. No way was I going to put myself in that position.

  The captain’s voice boomed through the overhead speakers. “Flight attendants, take your seats.”

  The pilot lowered the flaps and the landing gear clunked into place. The engines didn’t even cut out. In fact, the landing was smooth and the taxiing to the gate easy. I was up and serving as traffic cop the instant the engines cut. My job was to hold back the rest of the plane while Benni and Mrs. Nakamura made their way to the door. As I walked behind them, I realized how happy I was to be here at this moment.

  We found Chance and Lexie waiting, arm-in-arm, the way new lover’s do. Next to Lexie’s bronze skin and tan legs, Chance stuck out like a white, neon sign. If you saw him on his own, you realized he had a bit of color, but not when he was around someone with Lexie’s complexion. Who was I to talk? That’s how Benni and I looked, too.

  Chance waved when he saw me. Lexie rushed to Mrs. Nakamura. The old lady pushed back her wide-brimmed, floppy hat as they hugged.

  “Oh Auntie, how was the flight?”

  “Lovely, child. And enlightening.”

  The three girls fell in step. Though she was less than five feet tall and appeared much more frail, Mrs. Nakamura strode right along with Benni and Lexie, chatting merrily as the women set the pace for our group.

  “That Mrs. Nakamura, she hustles.” Chance pointed at the old woman.

  “She walks into Waikīkī every single day. The last time she took a day off we were under a hurricane watch. She’s so small I thought she’d blow away if the wind kicked up. The old broad’s pretty tough.”