Wiped Out

by Tamara Woods

  "This is a work of art," Fraya said. "You must love it here."

  Chad grinned. "Thank you so much. It's been the best time."

  "Sometimes I do wish we had a room to go to," his boyfriend challenged. "Especially when you snore at night."

  "The entire world is your room," Chad returned. “So go out there and explore it if my snoring is so annoying.”

  Fraya scrambled to end the argument before they really got into it. "Ehhh...where do you keep your bongs?"

  Sean took a few steps to the sink and slid back the door. Underneath on the right was all sorts of smoking paraphernalia and on the left where pots and pans, each in their secured bins.

  "I prefer the look of pots and pans hanging from a rack on the ceiling, but in here that would cause a concussion," Sean said with a shrug.

  "That bin is really lovely. The designs on it are so beautiful. It matches the porta pot box," Fraya said.

  Sean nodded and smiled a little. He clearly had more reservations about the van setup than Chad did, but they made it work.

  After they had their smoke session with Fraya taking one turn to be social and then turning it down, they settled in on the bean bag chairs to chat about surfing.

  The couple had met on Venice Beach in the early 2000s.

  "He looked so cute getting his palm read in that green cap that matched his eyes," Chad said, giving Sean a wink. They’d gotten together not long after and had been traveling and surfing for years before settling in O’ahu.

  "And we ended up here," Chad finished and handed out chilled bottles of water.

  Sean turned the radio on low and played the local reggae station. Fraya liked the sound of the grooves. She had gone to the Mayjah Rayjah Music Festival last year and had an amazing time. It had been such a chill vibe with so many people dancing.

  "Have you two ever tried to surf professionally?" she asked, taking a sip of her water. Sean pointed at Chad, she looked at him in surprise.

  He nodded. "Oh yeah, the younger me loved, loved, loved competition. There is something about being out in the ocean, catching a crispy blue wave, and totally smoking everybody else. It was incredible."

  "Why did you stop?" Keith asked.

  "That's the young man's game. I've got way too many grays on my head and aches in my bones to compete with those kids."

  Sean put his hand on Chad's knee. "When you were in it, you gave those young things a run for their money." Chad picked up his hand and kissed his knuckles.

  Fraya felt a pang from watching the simple intimacy. It had been so long since she had felt that close to someone. Much longer than even the end of her marriage. Normally, she was fine, but moments like that reminded her of the dream she had lost, if not the reality.

  Keith cleared his throat.

  "What do you think about these young bucks that are competing this weekend?" he asked.

  Chad scoffed. "Some of them are all right, but lot of them don't have the dedication. Gamilla was the best of all of them."

  "Did you know her?" Fraya asked.

  He nodded. "She was a tough girl. She seemed all sunshine and rainbows, but she could kick butt when she needed to."

  That made sense. Regardless of how easygoing someone might seem, in order to be a world-renowned athlete, they'd need to be able to kick in that competitive instinct.

  "She seemed to have secrets too," Sean added.

  Chad rolled his eyes. "Not this again."

  "It's true!" He leaned toward Fraya, his eyes lit with the excitement of sharing gossip. "She was always a sweet girl, but she definitely had secrets. You could see that she was holding back something. I think she had some sort of secret life"

  "What, like she was gay?" Keith asked.

  "Oh, honey, it's not the 80s. People don't care about that anymore. I don't know, something else," he replied.

  Fraya murmured in response. Had she ever been that naive? Sure people may be a little more welcoming, but not everywhere, unfortunately. But secrets itself seemed like an interesting line. How do you find out a dead woman's secrets?

  "Who was her biggest competition?" Fraya asked.

  "There's that Liz. And if they have an all-around competition this year, Cam and this guy named Eli are pretty incredible."

  "Do you think any of them would have been motivated to..." Fraya tried to find the right words.

  "Kill her?" Chad offered after a long pause.

  She nodded.

  "Maybe. There was a lot on the line," he said.

  Sean nodded in agreement. "They say she would've taken it all."

  "It all? What's on the line here?" Fraya asked.

  "This one is the big enchilada. There's millions in endorsements. Cash prizes. Everything." Chad’s eyes widened in emphasis.

  "Not to mention the street cred from winning something like that. Your name gets catapulted into the big leagues automatic that," Keith added.

  Chad gave Fraya a knowing look. "Some people would kill for that opportunity."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Fraya whimpered when she woke up the next afternoon. Her body yelled at her; her old butt had been out in the ocean doing way too much. Her shoulders especially were killing her from all of that paddling. She definitely needed to build up her strength if she wanted to keep doing this surfing thing. She struggled to sit up and looked around her room with bleary eyes.

  The sight of the rattan furniture offered her comfort. It was hers—her space. Her bed was the only luxury. A huge Queen-size, and she felt like she was swimming in it. Sometimes, the big bed felt lonely. But other times like today, she wanted to lay in it until the end of days. The colors in the room were all blues and greens, giving her ocean vibes— her body's mortal enemy.

  But that just made her think about Gamilla and her killer.

  Would someone who was a surfing star have a limp like the one her neighbor had described? Of course, she'd heard about people being in a shark attack and going on to surf again. But would they be able to compete again? Maybe. She shook her head. Her shark fixation was not going to help her solve this.

  A better thought—Fraya found the surfer helpless on the ground. She hadn't been shot or stabbed or anything that would show an outward wound. What would cause a girl as fit as Gamilla to drop like that? It didn't make sense. Fraya huffed in irritation. Lying about speculating wouldn't get things done.

  Even though it felt so good.

  She gingerly slid out of bed and padded into the living room for her yoga practice. She would just do some light stretches today to work out the stiffness. She pulled up her favorite music app on her phone and clicked on her quiet meditation playlist to help her center. The ambient sounds were relaxing. Fraya concentrated on deep breathing and fluidity of motion. She needed to loosen up so sitting for a few writing sessions wouldn't be painful.

  After her shower, she sipped her cold brew and sat on the couch to nibble on fruit and Greek yogurt. A healthy breakfast, except it was covered in whipped cream and some chocolate syrup. Everything was better with chocolate Now she was ready to rock. Or write. Whatever. She settled in on the lanai with her laptop. She'd left her teenage witch in the middle of a crisis in her last writing pass. Time to rescue her from herself.

  The sunlight barely whispered through the palm tree fronds by the time she closed her laptop. Her witch had gotten out of the frying pan and now she was in the proverbial fire. But putting out the fire was for another day, Fraya decided. Her entire body felt so tight, again. She stretched and groaned.

  Clearly, she was a glutton for punishment. Yoga stretches didn't cancel out—she checked her phone—three hours of not moving much at all. Oh well. When the writing mood struck, she couldn't bear to push it away. She took in the sweet, salty air and decided to retire her laptop for the night.

  Things were heating up in her novel's little town filled with ghouls and ghosts. But she had more pressing things to worry about in real life. She stored the machine on her bookshelf and poured a glass of lemon w
ater.

  She paused with her glass mid-way to her mouth. Maybe she needed to plot out Gamilla’s murder, like she would with a book. She wasn't sure if she knew all of the characters. Yet. But she needed to organize her thoughts, regardless. She took a big gulp of water to shore herself up. Her whiteboard set on an easel in the living room corner, ready whenever inspiration struck. It was her biggest thinking apparatus when she was trying to solve a plot puzzle. This was another kind of puzzle. One that wasn't nearly as innocuous as girl falls for boy, who may or may not be a paranormal creature. She took a pic of her board and erased the scribbles.

  Fraya stood in front of her white board tapping her marker against her cheek. What were the usual reasons for murder? Being an avid watcher of crime shows, she knew some of the basics: love, revenge, jealously, money. A job maybe. If it was a professional hitman, Fraya wouldn't have survived to tell the tale. She gulped at the sickly feeling in her throat.

  Focus, girl. Don't let things that didn't happen trip you up.

  Fraya knew from previous research and way too much TV, people weren't generally murdered by strangers. So, who did Gamilla know? She scrawled, “Liz from the interview and Facespace.” On her name, she added devil horns. That girl seemed like a mean piece of work. Why was she so bitter toward Gamilla? Was that just her personality, or did she hold a grudge big enough to kill for?

  Trent. Friend or stalker? Gamilla's fans certainly thought he was evil, but that didn't mean it was true. Online personas were carefully crafted. Even the average person posted mostly the good stuff on socials. And fans wouldn't know everything about a person's life.

  Only two suspects and those could be reaching on Fraya’s part. She needed more facts. Her mind dipped back to the crime shows. Some of the biggest motivators for murder were jealousy, money, and love. Who had the most motivation? Who would gain the most from Gamilla being gone? And who stood to lose the most with her being gone? She looked at her white board again and then erased. She'd barely had anything on it anyway. It wasn't very helpful, if she didn't have any clues.

  How did she put together those clues? She needed to find out more about Gamilla’s past. She had one friend who really was the mouth of the South, so to speak.

  She pulled up Winnie’s number on her cell.

  “Fraya dear, how are you?” Winnie’s voice was always so warm, like an afghan during a winter’s storm. “Just a second.” She heard Winnie cover the phone and call out “Jeffrey, put your blessed shoes on the blessed rack, like I’ve told you every blessed day of your life! Do you want me to trip and break a leg and then you’ll have to clean and cook?”

  Fraya could barely make out his reluctant, “No ma’am.”

  Teenagers were teenagers no matter what, she supposed.

  “All right dear, I’m back. How can I help you with that investigation?”

  Fraya sputtered. “Who said I was investigating anything?”

  Winnie pshawed, “We’ve been friends for years. You can’t help yourself. If someone is in need, you help.”

  “But she’s not alive,” Fraya pointed out.

  “Which makes her even more in need, if no one knows what truly happened to her,” Winnie finished with satisfaction.

  There was really no point in arguing with her, especially since she was right.

  Darn it.

  “I was calling you to see if you could help me find out more about Gamilla’s past. I need to know if anyone would want to hurt her, but I realize I don’t have the full scope of her as a person.”

  Winnie murmured in agreement, “That makes sense. A person’s past leads to their present. Let me ask around.”

  “Perfect. Take care, Winnie.”

  They rang off and Fraya laid it all aside while she straightened up her place. It didn’t take a long time, because she generally kept things tidy. If she didn’t, she had a tendency to lose things.

  Left at loose ends, she sent Leilani a text to see what she was up to.

  Her friend responded immediately: Monsters driving me crazy. Send help!

  Fraya grinned: LOL. I’ll be there ASAP. You need me to bring anything?

  Leilani: Naw, you’re good.

  Fraya chuckled and quickly got dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt. She’d baked some chocolate macadamia nut cookies and had made way too many. She grabbed an empty container and dumped all of them in there. After snatching up her favorite cross-body bag and was on her way. Instead of taking her bike, she climbed into her sedan. She’d bought it a few years ago when she’d received a larger royalty check than she’d anticipated. It had felt good to buy something so substantial, even if it wasn’t brand spanking new. New-to-her was good enough.

  Leilani and her family had lived in Kailua for years. They owned a large piece of property and the family had branched all around the island, developing a parcel here and there. Leilani and her husband had built a tiny house on the property. They were able to have their privacy and still help with keeping the utilities running and taking on property taxes.

  When Fraya pulled onto the bumpy road connecting the main drag to their property, it reminded her of driving the backroads in West Virginia. She and her ex used to take roads likes those to get “lost,” and find amazing things along the way. One road they’d explored had led them to a small pond in the middle of nowhere. They’d sat beside that water talking about all their big dreams, her of being a writer and him of owning his business and taking the world by storm.

  Back in the good old days, before he’d destroyed her trust and the trust of the town.

  She sighed as she turned a corner and was greeted by all the fruit bearing trees Leilani’s fam had on property. Fresh papayas, avocado, mango, and lemon trees grew there. Fraya was lucky enough to enjoy the overflow. The grass was lush and fertile and many different flowers dotted the landscape. Fraya’s windows were down and the fragrances blew inside the car, intoxicatingly sweet. Being on Leilani’s family land always brought a smile to her face.

  She pulled up to the main house and parked alongside in the gravel.

  Leilani’s children ran outside under their mom’s watchful eye. She sat on her lanai, sipping on her drink, while her son and daughter played tag.

  Fraya climbed out of her car and called out, “How’s it going, Lei?”

  She pantomimed pulling her hair out.

  “That good, huh? Maybe some cookies will help you out,” she said, taking quick steps over to her friend.

  They exchanged fortifying hugs.

  “Homemade cookies? My lucky day!” Leilani opened the container and took one. It had warmed up on the drive, making it nice and gooey. “Mahalo, sis. This is exactly what I needed.”

  “Me too. I can’t even lie.” Fraya chomped into one. She’d given it just the right pinch of cayenne to set off the chocolate. Lei poured her a cup of POG, a blend of passion fruit, orange, and guava juices.

  “Where’s Marcus at?”

  “He’s out back working on the garden with my cousins. There’s always something to do every day.”

  They chatted a bit about Leilani’s family and how her mother was doing-

  “She’s a dictator in a sweet old lady’s body.”

  And her dad.

  “He still goes squidding every day. I don’t know how he does it.”

  “What’s squidding?” Fraya asked.

  Leilani started for a minute and then laughed to herself. “Sometimes I forget that you’re not from here. He goes out and tries to catch octopus. He has a few spears. Some of the boys go out there with him.”

  Fraya’s eyes got big thinking of all the tentacles and those creepy little mouths. “Oh no, no, no, people do that?”

  “Psh, girl, tako is good eating. You need to get out more.”

  Fraya shook her head, “Naw, I get out enough, I’m good.”

  Leilani turned to her kids. “Hey, Kanoela Marie. You think I can’t see you? Huh? You better think again, little girl.”

  Kanoe froze in mid-
rounding up to throw something at her brother. The avocado bounced on the ground and she toddled off in the opposite direction. Her brother turned and followed her happily, not realizing what his mama had stopped.

  Leilani shook her head. “That boy don’t know how many times I saved his life. His sister is out here reckless.”

  Fraya laughed. “I wonder where she got that from?”

  “Aye, I’m not reckless. I’m chillaxed.” Leilani tried to strike a pose with a peace sign at her eye and Fraya laughed even harder.

  “That was so awkward.”

  “I know. I can’t even pretend to be relaxed.”

  They cracked more jokes and settled into their chairs. Lei’s son tried to catch a gecko. The little green lizard kept darting away, but he was hot on its trail. His sister picked flowers and putting them in the collar of her shirt.

  “Look, mama, I made a lei!”

  Leilani smiled tenderly. “I’ll be happy to teach her how when she’s a little bigger.”

  Fraya nodded, looking down at her cup in thought.

  “Hey so...has your brother said anything about the investigation?” she blurted.

  “He hasn’t said anything to me about it,” Leilani shrugged.

  “Is he around?” Fraya glanced about the property, hoping Leilani didn’t notice

  Her friend smirked. “No, but he’ll be at The Oasis tonight. We’re having a few drinks. You could meet up with us there.”

  Fraya hesitated. She wasn’t big on bars and she didn’t want to give Ayden the wrong idea. On the other hand, how else would sure learn anything?

  “Sure, why not?”

  BACK HOME, FRAYA JUMPED into the shower and dressed in a teal, flowy skirt and a soft white peasant blouse. She hadn't washed her hair because her curls were popping. She picked and fluffed out her hair some to make it a perfect sphere. After slipping on tan sandals and her matching crossbody purse, she checked herself in the mirror. Almost. A rose gloss completed her look.