[Lady Justice 03] - Lady Justice Gets Lei'd

by Robert Thornhill

  A beautiful Hawaiian woman with long, flowing black hair approached us. “Aloha, I am Noelani. Welcome to our hotel.”

  Noelani, it turned out, was a cousin to Liho, who, of course, was a cousin to Buddy.

  Why was I not surprised?

  “Let’s get you checked into your rooms so you can freshen up before dinner.”

  The hotel formed a giant U, with the restaurant, pool, and tiki bar in the center. The hotel rooms faced inward toward the beautifully manicured grounds and the ocean. The rooms at the end of the U were separated from the beach only by a concrete walkway that ran for a mile along the entire Kaanapali resort.

  I couldn’t believe that one of these special rooms was ours.

  We quickly unpacked our bags and stepped onto the lanai. Frothy waves broke onto the beach a mere fifty feet from where we stood. Neither of us wanted to end this magic moment, but we just had time to wash off the travel grime before supper.

  Willie and Mary were sharing a room next to us. We met and strolled together to the elegant restaurant that faced the tiki bar and a small stage.

  After a sumptuous meal of mahi mahi encrusted with macadamia nuts, the lights in the courtyard dimmed, and from somewhere in the darkness a plaintive voice that seemed to span the ages lifted an ancient chant into the night air.

  As the chant came closer, the figure of a man wielding a lighted torch approached and touched the flame to other torches surrounding the courtyard. Soon the area was bathed in the flickering torchlight.

  Another figure appeared from the shadows. It was a Hawaiian woman in a ti leaf skirt who began to sway to the rhythm of the chant.

  In the brighter light, I recognized our new friends,

  Liho and Noelani.

  The torchlight ceremony was followed by a hula show that had been a nightly fixture at the hotel for many years.

  Liho and Noelani performed both the traditional Hawaiian hulas and the hapa-haoule hulas made famous in the movies.

  We enjoyed the hulas sung in English such as The

  Little Grass Shack and We’re Going to a Hukilau, but the ancient chants, sung in Hawaiian, struck a chord deep in my soul. As I listened, the vision of Maggie and I tied to a stake with a burning torch poised over our heads filled my mind. The eerie chant that came from the lips of the man bent on sacrificing us to his gods was not unlike that sung by our friend Liho.

  After the hula show, the trio onstage played all the

  Hawaiian favorites. While Maggie and I twirled on the tiny dance floor in front of the stage, Mary busied herself collecting umbrellas from more fruity drinks than I could ever hold, and Willie found a willing lass seated at the tiki bar.

  All was well in paradise.

  Finally, the band announced their final number, and the audience drifted away, leaving the courtyard to the serious drinkers around the bar.

  Mary, I noticed, was listing heavily to starboard; her chin was propped on one elbow, and a silly grin was plastered across her face.

  I feared she had gone a few umbrellas past her limit.

  I looked around for Willie, hoping to get some help in getting our inebriated friend back to her room, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Mary struggled to her feet, and with Maggie on one side and me on the other, we staggered down the path to her room.

  The steps to the second floor landing proved to be a challenge, and we stood huffing and puffing outside her door.

  “Key?” I queried.

  All I got was a dumb look. I don’t think I was speaking Hawaiian, but I might as well have been as far as Mary was concerned.

  She wasn’t carrying a purse, and having seen on other occasions where she hid things for safekeeping,

  I had a pretty good idea where the key might be. But there was no way in hell that I was going to go fishing around in her cleavage for a door key.

  It occurred to me that Willie might have tired and come back to the room ahead of us, and I was about to knock when I noticed a sock over the doorknob.

  “What the heck is that?” I asked, looking at Maggie.

  “I don’t know. Maybe somebody dropped it in the hall and thought it might belong to the occupant of this room. Your guess is as good as mine.”

  I shrugged and knocked on the door. There was no response, but I was sure I had heard movement inside the room.

  I knocked louder this time, thinking maybe Willie had been asleep and my gentle knock had only roused him to semi-consciousness.

  Still no answer, so I knocked even louder and called his name. “Willie, wake up!”

  I thought I heard a whisper and footsteps, and soon the door opened just a crack.

  “What you want?” Willie growled. “Din you see my sign?”

  “Sign? What sign?”

  “De sock! Din you see de sock?”

  “Well, yeah. Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

  “Shit, man. Everbody knows dat a sock on de knob means you is entertainin’ a lady. Now go away.”

  “Can’t do it, man. You see, we’ve got us a situation here.” I pointed to Mary, who was hanging on to the doorjamb for dear life with drool running down her chin.

  “Oh, man, I was jus’ gettin’ to de good part. Can’t you take her to your room?”

  “Willie, this is my wedding night, and there’s no way in hell that I’m going to share it with Mary Murphy, so open the door.”

  “Hang on,” he whimpered. He retreated, and I heard a few hushed whispers, some pleading and begging, and finally a firm, “No! Goodnight!”

  The door burst open, whacking Mary in the head, and the woman Willie was romancing at the bar slipped quietly into the night.

  Mary’s bed was closest to the open lanai, and with great effort we drug her across the floor and plopped her onto the mattress. Maggie tucked her in, and as we were heading out the door, I pulled Willie aside.

  “Thanks, Willie. I appreciate the sacrifice.”

  “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t do it for no one but you, but what a waste. Now what am I gonna do with dis?”

  He looked down at the huge protrusion straining the seams of his Levi’s.

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” I muttered as I ushered Maggie quickly out the door.

  Having deposited our excess baggage, we found ourselves alone again on the Kaanapali beach walkway.

  The cool breeze off the ocean brought the sound of the waves washing onto the sand, and as each wave crested and fell, the silver moonlight danced ever so briefly then disappeared, waiting for the next swell.

  “How about a walk along the beach?” I suggested.

  Maggie didn’t need any coaxing, and soon we were standing barefoot in the sand as the incoming tide swirled around our ankles.

  We walked hand-in-hand through the surf, and occasionally we could see the running lights of some small craft poking red and green holes in the darkness of the vast ocean.

  On the shore, the lights from the resorts reflected in the water, and from some restaurant down the beach, the melody of a Hawaiian song danced across the water to the rhythm of the waves.

  There was no one but us along the beach, and in a weak moment, the love scene in From Here To Eternity where Burt Lancaster took Deborah Kerr right there in the sand as the waves washed over them popped into my mind.

  I was thinking how incredibly romantic that would be, just Maggie and I consummating our wedding vows right there on the beach, when an unusually strong wave sent the frigid water up my leg, soaking my private parts.

  I knew right away as I felt Mr. Winkie making a hasty retreat that such nonsense was better left to Hollywood.

  Shrunken but not discouraged, I held Maggie close and whispered, “You feel like going to a nookie-lau?”

  That goofy play on words had been rattling around in my mind all evening after hearing the real version at the hotel. I had been busting to say it all night, and at last the time seemed right.

  Romantic cuss, aren’t I?

  S
he stood on tiptoes and whispered back, “Are you wanting to spend some time in my little grass shack?”

  That got Mr. Winkie’s attention right away.

  We hustled back to our room. Maggie told me to get comfortable and disappeared into the bathroom.

  The door opened, and she demurely stepped into the room wearing a sheer black teddy that was just long enough for the black fur in the hem to cover—well, it just barely covered it.

  “I did some shopping while you were on the mainland. Do you like it?” she purred.

  “Like it? Are you kidding?”

  I felt like a kid in a candy store. No, wait. It was more like a kid on Christmas morning anxiously awaiting the moment when he could remove the wrapping and finally hold in his hands the special gift that had been given him.

  Maggie came to me and climbed on my lap. I brought her close to me and had just began to nuzzle into that soft black fur when—

  “Yieeaahh!” The most bloodcurdling scream I had ever heard this side of a slasher movie pierced the air.

  That will take the wind out of your sails every time.

  I jumped to my feet, nearly throwing Maggie on the floor. “Quick! Throw something on. I think that came from Mary’s room.”

  “Yieeaah! Somebody help!”

  I rushed into the hall, and without stopping to knock, I hit the door with all my adrenaline-pumped strength.

  The doorframe shattered, and I stepped into a scene from the Twilight Zone.

  Willie was standing wide-eyed on the side of his bed, his white sheet pulled up around his chin.

  Mary was sitting straight up in her bed pointing to the screen door of the lanai that had been left partly open.

  I followed her frantic stare, and there, silhouetted against the moonlit sky, was a great horned beast.

  Maggie was close behind. We saw the creature at the same time. She grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

  “What is that thing?” she gasped.

  I, of course, had no idea, and I was just trying to decide how brave I wanted to be on my wedding night before I had had the opportunity to consummate our union when Liho stepped up behind us.

  Apparently Mary’s screams had jarred more than one guest out of their beds.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  I just pointed to the horned specter clinging to the screen mere inches from Mary’s terrified face.

  Liho flipped on the lights, and a big grin spread across his face.

  “Hey, man. What you got there is a Jackson’s chameleon. It won’t hurt you.” He crossed the room, and we all looked on in horror as he gently pried the creature from the screen. “They look tough, but they just eat bugs.”

  Mary finally spoke. “I thought I was having the DTs, and then that damn thing started coming at me. I ain’t never going to drink that much again. I promise.”

  I took a closer look at the big lizard. It measured maybe twelve inches. It sure looked bigger in the dark. It had three big horns like a triceratops. Who wouldn’t have been scared by that?

  Two huge eyes protruded from the side of his head. Each of them could rotate 180 degrees independently, and as Liho held him up, he surveyed each of us and was probably wondering what all the fuss was about.

  Willie hadn’t moved a muscle. He just stood there with the sheet pulled up around his chin. Finally, he said, “Dat crazy old bat done scared de bejesus outta me. Den I saw dat ting, and den she screamed again. I think I wet myself.”

  “The worst thing he could do is lick you to death,”

  Liho said as he headed to the door. “His tongue is a foot and a half long.”

  Willie considered that for a minute, and as he climbed out of the bed, I heard him mutter, “I bet Emma would like one of dem.”

  I wonder what he meant by that.

  After everyone was tucked safely back in bed, Maggie and I returned to our room.

  “Well, it’s been quite a day,” I said.

  I was about to apologize when Maggie put her finger to my lips.

  “Walter Williams, I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to marry you. Our life together may never be predictable, but it will never be dull. We’re in it together, for better or for worse, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Now get over here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  CHAPTER 15

  What a night!

  After our nocturnal encounter with the great horned beast, sleep didn’t come easy.

  The sun was high in the sky by the time we convened for breakfast.

  Mary looked like the old mare that had been ridden hard and put away wet, and she kept repeating over and over, “Don’t give me no more umbrellas, please!”

  Willie was unusually quiet. His romantic tryst had been interrupted, and his bravado had been shaken. He was the perfect candidate for the next installment of Grumpy Old Men.

  Maggie and I were exhausted as well, but for other reasons. Try as I might, I couldn’t wipe the silly grin off my face.

  A pot of hot coffee, fresh papaya, and waffles smothered in coconut syrup made a world of difference.

  We had just left the restaurant and were headed to the gift shop in the lobby when two men approached us.

  “Mr. Williams, my name is Detective Chinn. I wonder if we could have a word with you?”

  I looked at Maggie, and she gave me that what-have-you-done-now stare.

  “Uh, sure,” I replied. “What’s this all about?”

  “We were hoping you could help us.”

  “Help you do what?”

  “Help us with an undercover operation.”

  I just stood there dumbfounded. “How do you even know me?”

  “Well, actually, you’re somewhat of a celebrity. We know about your involvement with the stolen artifacts.”

  “Don’t tell me. You’re related to Buddy Kalakoa.”

  “On my mother’s side.”

  “But I just got married yesterday. This is my honeymoon. I didn’t come here to work.”

  “Come on, Harry,” the other detective said. “We knew he wouldn’t help.”

  Mary giggled. “Did you say Harry? Your name is

  Harry Chinn?”

  I rolled my eyes and buried my face in my hands.

  “I’m sorry, man. She had a few too many mai tais last night.”

  “Hey, I get that all the time. You’ve heard the Johnny Cash tune, A Boy Named Sue. Well, with a name like that, I had to get tough or die. That’s why I’m a cop.”

  I figured anybody that liked Johnny Cash couldn’t be all bad.

  “I know I’m going to regret this. What’s on your mind?”

  “We have our fair share of crime here in the islands—you know, domestic stuff, people beating the crap out of each other, and crystal meth is a major problem—but most damaging to the tourist industry is petty theft. Tourists rent a car, throw their luggage in the trunk, and head to their resort. They stop along the beach to wade in the surf, and when they come back, their luggage is gone.

  “We warn people from the get-go, ‘Don’t leave valuables in your car,’ but it’s so easy to leave your camera and wallet in the car when you go for a swim. The bad guys know that.”

  “So what do you want from us?”

  “Well, I took the liberty of calling your captain.”

  “Captain Short is in on this?”

  “Well,” he said with a sly grin, “he did say that back in Kansas City you had quite a reputation for your undercover work. You know, the tranny bar and all.”

  “No T-shirt for the captain,” I muttered.

  “Anyway, we hoped that you would help us out. Your little group is perfect for our sting.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, look at you. You reek of tourist. Gaudy shirt, Bermuda shorts, tennis shoes with white socks, and lily-white legs. You’re perfect.”

  I wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment or an insult.

  “Here’s the deal. We’ll give you
everything: rental car, camera, tote bags full of stuff. All you have to do is go to the beach and have a good time and leave your stuff in the car. Our guys will be watching, and when they hit your car, we’ll nab them.”

  “I don’t know. It’s been a pretty tough week.”

  “Yeah, we know all about your mix-up back on the mainland. Tell you what. I’ll sweeten the pot for you.

  My wife’s brother works at the Old Lahaina Luau. Give us a hand, and I think I can score four front row tickets for you.”

  I looked at my little group.

  “We haven’t been to a luau yet,” Maggie whispered.

  “Yeah, and I been wanting to see one of those fire dancer guys,” Mary added.

  Willie just shrugged his shoulders.

  Seeing no opposition, I turned to Harry Chinn.

  “I guess we’re in.”

  “Great! Go pack your swimming gear and meet us in front of the hotel.”

  In fifteen minutes we were packed and ready to go. Detective Chinn was standing beside a brand new Chrysler Sebring convertible.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I stammered.

  “Nope. This is the rental car of choice for the yuppie elite. They come from cold places like Chicago. They’ve never even owned a convertible and figure their Hawaiian vacation is the perfect place to let it all hang out. There’s a bazillion of these on Maui. Next time you see one, look who’s behind the wheel.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “Did you stop at McGregor Point on the way over?”

  “Sure did. It was gorgeous.”

  “Well, so does everyone else. They have spotters there who check out the newest greenhorns on the island. If they spot a patsy, they follow them along the highway. After you go through the tunnel, the first beach that is accessible from the highway is at Ukumehame. It’s a good bet that Mr. and Mrs. Tourist will pull over for their first taste of Hawaiian sand and surf. That’s when they strike.”

  “So what do you want us to do?”

  “Drive past McGregor Point, and turn around at the Ocean Center. Then come back and stop just as if you were coming from the airport. Ooh and ah and get all excited just like you did when you stopped before; then drive to the beach at Ukumehame. We’ll show you the spot on the way over. Leave your stuff in the open convertible, take a swim, and enjoy the ocean. We’ll do the rest.”