Bet Your Bones

by Jeanne Matthews

  “Durante’s Auto Parts.”

  Dinah had never heard of it. “I guess he does product endorsements, too.”

  “Not yet.”

  Coy. Studied. Defensive. Lyssa must have had to defend Raif’s reputation and accomplishments to Xander many times, and probably to Jon, as well. Perhaps she felt the need to defend her own judgment for marrying him. Maybe Raif was one of those Internet poker whizzes in his spare time and he really could afford to buy her a Ferrari, but Dinah shared Xander’s suspicion that Lyssa subsidized her husband’s high-rolling lifestyle with the money her grandfather left her and her finder’s commissions on Hollywood props.

  “Raif thinks Claude Ann is marrying Daddy for his money.”

  “Really?” Dinah kept her tone nonchalant. “And what do you think, Lyssa?”

  “I think he’s right. I wouldn’t say she’s a total gold digger, but Daddy’s stinking rich. Has he told you about the brewery his German great grandfather founded in Munich?”

  “Xander is one of the Garsts of Garst Brewery?”

  “That’s right. When my grandfather died, he divided his fortune between me and a female cousin. He was old-fashioned and believed that men should make their own way in the world, but girls should be cocooned in banknotes and securities. Of course, Daddy owns tons of stock in the company. Claude Ann is probably salivating to get herself named as a beneficiary in his will.”

  Dinah wasn’t about to disclose Claude Ann’s contributions to Xander to this cough drop, but there was a limit to how much snarkiness she could stomach. “After what happened to Claude Ann last night, it makes a person wonder if someone already named as a beneficiary is trying to scare her off.”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “So is the idea of Claude Ann as a gold digger.”

  “Money’s always part of the equation.” She turned her head and her strangely notched nose twitched. “By the way, I don’t appreciate the way that you and your friend, Phoebe, were hitting on Raif last night. Consider this a warning. Lay off.”

  A string of scathing put-downs ran through Dinah’s mind, but the glaze of tears in Lyssa’s eyes brought her up short. Hard as it was to believe, she loved the rotter and nothing Dinah could say would disabuse her. “I’ll keep my distance, Lyssa. You can rest assured.”

  Lyssa stopped at a crosswalk and waited for a mob of pedestrians to straggle across. “Did Claude Ann tell you that Daddy was once accused of rape?”

  Dinah’s jaw dropped. “By whom? When?”

  “Oh, a few years ago. There were no charges. It may have been a misunderstanding. The girl was kind of a flake. She didn’t go to the police.”

  “How do you know about this? Who’s the woman? What happened?”

  “I’m sure Daddy’s told Claude Ann. I mean, he’d have to, wouldn’t he? To inoculate her against hearing it from somebody else.”

  The last straggler made it to the other side of the street. Lyssa stepped on the gas and turned up the stereo full blast. The pulsating beat of the Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer” precluded any further inquiry. Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away. Dinah leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Oh, oh, oh, ay, ay, ay, woo. How, she asked herself, can otherwise intelligent women be so confoundingly, perversely, off-the-charts wrong about men?

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Crazy what happened last night, eh? There’s no telling anymore. Crazy world out there. Crazy, crazy. Who’d have believed her ex would blow in and go berserk? Watch your step.” Wilhite welcomed Jon and his charges aboard his corporate plane, a twin engine Gulfstream turboprop, and guided them into the club-like cabin. This morning, he was clad in an eye-popping shirt that featured lime green and cobalt blue fish swimming against a magenta background. Dinah wondered if he wore the loud shirts to draw people’s eyes away from his ungainly, bowlegged spraddle.

  The aircraft’s plush leather seats were arranged for conversation like those in a train compartment with two facing forward and two aft. Xander and Claude Ann were already ensconced in the first two forward-facing seats drinking coffee from china cups. Claude Ann’s left arm was in a sling. She wore a cast on her wrist and a skittish smile. Xander looked haggard, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

  Claude Ann held out her free arm to Marywave. “We’re all gonna be okay, baby.”

  Marywave wrapped her arms around Claude Ann’s neck and hugged her. “I prayed for you, Mama. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

  “I know you didn’t. You just did what your daddy told you to do.”

  “I’m gonna wear the dress and carry your flowers, too. A froward heart shall depart from me. Psalms one-o-one, verse four.”

  “That bucks me up more than anything. I knew I could count on my girl.”

  Raif and Lyssa sat across from Xander and Claude Ann facing aft. Raif slouched behind his tray table shuffling a deck of cards. Lyssa browsed through a magazine.

  Xander touched Jon’s arm. “Jon, I need a few minutes. Raif and Lyssa, would you change seats and let Jon and Phoebe sit here? Jon and I need to talk and Claude Ann wants to brief you on how we’re going to arrange for Marywave’s care in light of Hank’s attack.”

  “No problem.” Raif closed his tray table, stood up and moved into the seat behind Xander so that they were sitting back to back.

  Lyssa shot her father a resentful look before moving around to the seat next to Raif. She leaned close to Raif, but he didn’t respond. He had already pulled down the tray table and resumed his trick shuffles.

  “My pilot’s ready as soon as we’re all settled,” said Wilhite, fiddling with his mobile. “Vaughn? Vaughn, can you hear me? Come back and clear these coffee cups, will you?”

  A disembodied voice came over the PA system. “No problem.”

  Claude Ann let go of Marywave’s hand. “Avery, will you show Marywave to her seat?”

  “No problem.”

  If one more person said “no problem,” Dinah was sure she would lose it.

  Wilhite motioned Marywave into the seat across from Raif and Lyssa and made sure she was buckled in. Marywave nestled in and opened her Bible. The last two seats were situated in the very tail of the airplane. Dinah felt as if she’d been relegated to the back of the bus.

  “Go ahead, Dinah,” said Wilhite, gesticulating. “Sit, sit. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve made sure we have all the bags and gear aboard. You gals don’t travel light. Not a problem, of course. Lots of space.”

  Dinah sat down and glanced out the window. Was Hank out there somewhere watching them, plotting some fresh mayhem? Her brain was sluggish from information overload and sleep deprivation. When she and Jon were talking on the beach, had Jon mentioned that they’d be flying to Hilo on Wilhite’s plane? Hank had probably heard everything they said. Was he crazy enough to plant a bomb? No. Not with Marywave on board. Anyway, surely the police had posted guards at the airport.

  Hank was no longer a faraway problem, but if the police did their jobs, he was a jailable problem. The problem of Xander was more complicated and Dinah’s determination not to meddle wavered with each new disclosure about him. An allegation of rape was pretty damned serious and, reported by his own daughter, it warranted a bit of Q and A. She wished she could have had a few words alone with Claude Ann. Hopefully, Xander wouldn’t monopolize her all afternoon.

  A crisply uniformed man with “Vaughn” stamped on his name tag took away the cups and saucers. Wilhite pulled out a walkie-talkie and informed somebody named J.J. that they were ready for take-off and, as the plane was backing away from the gate, he trotted to the rear of the plane and sat down next to Dinah. He had a file folder in his hand and flipped through a bunch of papers, moistening his thumb repeatedly.

  The turboprop rolled out onto the tarmac and lined up behind a large commercial jet awaiting take-off. Dinah fastened her seatb
elt and tried not to think about a bomb. She thought about Pash. Maybe the flaky girl who cried rape but didn’t go to the police was named Pash.

  In a few minutes, the Gulfstream accelerated down the runway and hurtled into the sky at a cookie-pitching angle. Dinah’s stomach tingled. She counted to ninety. Nothing exploded and she relaxed a hair.

  Wilhite closed the folder and elbowed her in the ribs. “Nice view of Punchbowl crater.”

  She looked down at the sprawling city whose name in Hawaiian meant place of shelter. Where Claude Ann was concerned, it hadn’t lived up to its name. “Mr. Wilhite, what does the name…?”

  “Avery, please.”

  “Avery. What does the name Hilo mean?”

  “Means to hang by a thread.”

  She tensed again. “Because it’s in the path of a volcano?”

  He erupted into convulsive laughter. The fish on his shirt jittered and shook. “A joke, Dinah! A joke! Hilo means thread in Spanish.” His laughter tapered into a series of asthmatic wheezes. “Let’s see. Hilo was an ancient Hawaiian navigator who sailed by the stars and the moon. Some call the first night of the new moon hilo, some say it’s the first day of the month. Some of the old kam’ainas say it means twisted. You’ll have to ask Jon what it means. He’s a walking encyclopedia of Hawaiiana.”

  Thus far, Avery had been a walking encyclopedia of Hawaiian gossip. She had a feeling his brief explosion of temper last night was because he thought Eleanor had attacked Claude Ann and mucked up the party and he didn’t want Mr. Jarvis, the prospective buyer of Uwahi, to see it. He had probably blamed Xander for not keeping his troublesome relative at bay. Xander had obviously put him wise this morning and Avery was animated and chipper. Jarvis would have no reason to associate an unfortunate domestic fracas with the Uwahi deal.

  “Did you socialize much with Xander after Leilani died, Mr…Avery?”

  “Oh, sure. Not as much. Kay was all tied up with the children. Soccer and drama class, this and that. Of course, whenever we barbecued or what have you, we included Xander and his kids. Jon and Lyssa are the same age as our two kids. They all grew up together.”

  “After Leilani, did Xander date anyone for very long?”

  “No. None lasted longer than a year or so. All of them dazzlers, but no point trying to remember their names. Sally, Sara. They came and went. I think he was up-front about not wanting to marry again ’til his kids were grown up.”

  Dinah gave up on the girlfriends line of inquiry. Even if Xander had dated a woman named Pash, she hadn’t lasted long enough for Avery to remember her name. However, he seemed to know a lot about Jon and Lyssa.

  She asked, “Has Jon changed much since his accident?” Avery frowned and she realized her gaffe. “Psychologically, I mean.”

  The frown deepened and his eyes became solemn. He glanced toward the front of the plane where Jon was sitting and lowered his voice. “I’ve always felt guilty about what happened. At the time, my daughter Tess was engaged to marry Jon, but when she saw his burns, she couldn’t go through with it. Made me ashamed of her. Felt guilty for bringing her up to be so wishy-washy. Don’t be superficial, I told her. It’s what’s under the skin that counts and Jon’s solid as they come, back of the net. Brains, integrity, all the right stuff. But his scars grossed her out. Her word. Childish. Put me off. Tells you something about the seriousness of girls these days, eh? Of course, Tess was always high-strung. In therapy ever since she left school.”

  Dinah caught her breath. Was being high-strung the same as being a flake? “Were, or are, Tess and Lyssa good friends?”

  “The best, until Tess treated Jon so shabbily. Can’t blame Lyssa. Blood’s thicker and all that.” He skimmed a look down the aisle toward Lyssa. “My personal take? Lyssa’s changed more than Jon since his accident. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear…”

  “What?” asked Dinah, anticipating the answer.

  “Great Scott. I hadn’t thought of it this way before, but. Well, it’s almost as if she holds Xander responsible. Young girls. Strange as weather. Don’t get ’em, myself.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Claude Ann had booked a hair appointment in Hilo for herself and Marywave and she was raring to be on her way. Dinah had no chance to speak with her alone. Xander had arranged a car for her and glued himself to her side as they walked through a mizzling rain to the Hertz lot.

  Dinah poked her head under the umbrella Xander held over Claude Ann’s head. “You can’t drive with your arm in a sling, Claudy. I’ll drive you.”

  “The sling’s just ‘cause my shoulder’s sore. See?” She slipped her arm free and moved her arm up and down. “This little cast won’t keep me from steerin’ straight. You go on with Jon.”

  Xander said to Dinah, “I’ve assigned Jon the job of transporting the luggage and wedding paraphernalia and, of course, yourself to his place in Volcano. We’ll camp with Jon tonight because Volcano’s closer to the wedding site. You’ll have your own cabin and nothing to do but relax until the party tonight.”

  “Fine.” Dinah thought it something of a solecism to lump the maid of honor in with the wedding paraphernalia, but that was the least of his sins. “Claude Ann, my only dress was totaled in the blood bath last night. Let me go with you into town to buy another one.”

  “Not all of my clothes were ruined and I’ve got a couple of dresses that’ll fit you just fine. Don’t worry about anything except how you’re gonna safety-pin me into my weddin’ dress. This cast will never fit into the sleeve. Do you think we could slit open the seam and Velcro the thing closed around this cast? Oh, nevermind. It’s no biggie. We’ll make it work.”

  Xander stopped next to a blue Buick and opened the driver’s door for Claude Ann. He kissed her, helped her into the car, and stood back. “Be careful, darling.”

  “I will. Come on, Marywave. Hop in, baby. This’ll be fun.”

  Marywave smiled and climbed in on the passenger side. Mother and daughter seemed to have forgiven one another their hala and put things to rights, their ho’oponopono brought about by Hank’s insane act of spite.

  Xander folded the umbrella and chucked it into the back seat. “You don’t mind, do you, Dinah? Claude Ann and Marywave will need it to protect their coiffeurs.” He gave Claude Ann’s uncasted hand a last squeeze, as if he almost couldn’t bear to see her go. “I love you.”

  “I know you do.”

  He waved good-bye, stuffed his hands in his pockets and, shoulders hunched against the heavy mist, walked back toward the terminal.

  Claude Ann said, “He’s got his own car parked here somewhere. He and Avery are going into town to talk business with Steve Sykes. He doesn’t blame me at all for last night, Di. He was so sweet. He said nothin’ in the world mattered to him but that I’m safe.” She fastened her seat belt, started the car, and looked at her watch. “Omigosh! Gotta go. Bye!”

  Dinah watched her drive off, then walked to a covered walkway across from the terminal and sat down on a bench to wait for Jon. She was glad, at least, of a chance to talk with him in private. She would ask him, obliquely, about Tess and see if she could coax some information out of him. If his fiancée was the girl Xander raped, that would definitely qualify as an insoluble problem.

  Lyssa had rented a nondescript beige compact, quite a comedown from the Ferrari on Oahu, and in a surprising turn of friendliness, she offered to take Phoebe to her favorite spa in Pahoa for a lomilomi massage. Phoebe jumped at the offer, probably in no small part because she didn’t want to take any more flak from Dinah about Hank.

  Raif rented a red Corvette. As he drove past Dinah, he cocked a finger pistol at her. “If anyone asks, I’m off to a private poker game in Pahoa.” He spotted Avery, who was walking toward the parking lot with Vaughn, and cocked another finger pistol at him. Avery waved back distractedly, as if he had a million things on his
mind, and glanced at his watch.

  A half hour went by while Dinah sat looking out at the rain and brooding. She had read that Hilo was one of the wettest towns in the world, but the gray skies and drizzle seemed like a personal affront—a thumb in the eye from the local deities. Rain was part of the ceaseless war between Pele and her lover, Kamapua’a. Pele sent the fires that gave birth to the land, then Kamapua’a sent the rains that extinguished her fires. Wild boars dug up the lava and softened it so that seeds could take root and plants and trees eventually covered the island. Then Pele came along and destroyed it all again. Today, Kamapua’a clearly had the upper hand. Dinah was thinking about Jon’s identification with Kamapua’a when a beat-up Suzuki Sidekick pulled up in front of her bench and beeped. Shave-and-a-haircut.

  Jon leaned across the passenger seat and threw open the door for her. “This has worked out better than I thought it would. I’m glad it’ll be just the two of us on the drive to Volcano.”

  She crawled in and buckled up without looking at him. That ill-considered kiss was going to come back and bite her. She just knew it. “How far?”

  “To Volcano, thirty miles. To my place, another three.” He seemed to sense the chill and curbed his enthusiasm.

  The wipers scrubbed across the windshield and thunked at the end of their arc in a particularly irritating way without doing anything to improve visibility. She pulled a tourist map out of her purse and rubbed away the condensation on the inside of the windshield so she could see where they were going.

  Highway 11, otherwise known as the Belt Road, was a two-lane thoroughfare that cut through the green interior of the island toward Volcanoes National Park. Modest houses lined the road on either side. As they got farther from Hilo, the houses became more widely spaced and the countryside more rural.