As I bellied up to the salad bar for a plate to pile high with local tomatoes, avocados and bamboo shoots, it was the first time I really felt like a resident Kailuan. While the men stayed with their favorite beef entrees, I opted for shrimp cooked on the kiawe stoked grill.
Allergic responses can be odd. I am unaffected by the burning of kiawe, but when it is blooming, look out. During a short-term assignment at a resort in the Southwest, I had the misfortune to learn first-hand that our tropical kiawe is a cousin of mesquite.
* * * * *
Keoni and I continued our walks most mornings. We were often escorted by Miss Una, who had been freed from her halter. Usually she would stop at the open beach and after watching us for a few minutes, she walked herself home. But occasionally, she sprinted ahead to explore and would return to escort her people to her findings. Once she found a dead Portuguese Man of War. Fortunately for all our sakes, she recognized the danger and we avoided the poison within its stingers.
Having set the date of Keoni’s party as the deadline for completing house beautiful, I continued to spend the bulk of my energy indoors. During this time, I was glad that Keoni was involved with his security project for Miriam. On the days when he worked on The Ladies’ cottage, Miss Una walked him to the gate, and then moved back to our lānai to observe as much of the activity as she could from her tabletop perspective.
Although I was busy with the house and party planning, I was glad to hear about his work at dinner each day. In his initial analysis, Keoni told Miriam it was good that she was updating her security system, since her old outside control panel served as an open invitation to burglars. Nevertheless, he advised her to continue with the moderate level of monitoring she had with her current security company until the new system was in place.
Another suggestion Keoni made was for her to have her hedges trimmed to ensure no one could sneak onto her property unobserved, Miriam said she would have the work done the following month when she was having her palm trees trimmed. When he encouraged her to install solar lights along the pathways and edges of the flower beds, all of The Ladies got involved. I watched as they piled into Joanne’s mini-van for a trip to Costco. I could picture them free-wheeling Miriam around the warehouse as they emptied it of decorative solar lights. They wasted no time in implementing their vision when they returned. That night their backyard glowed after their generous sprinkling of solar-powered elfin figures and flowers. Their only disappointment was that they would have to wait for another shipment of lights in order to complete illuminating their front yard.
While Miriam looked forward to a reduction in insurance rates, she was in no rush to complete the work. This made it convenient for Keoni to do the installation in stages. He began by ordering a few custom sunscreens for windows and doors incorporating alarms that function even if the system is on standby. Next, since Miriam had opted for a combination of wired and wireless components, he put in new smoke and fire alarms throughout the house. The most complex part of his work was updating door and window contacts and motion detection devices at strategic points around the house and grounds.
I was glad that Keoni was busy working next door. It made my preparations for his party easier, especially determining who would be attending. After sending out invitations, I called people on the neighbor islands and the mainland who were likely to come. When Keoni’s buddies alerted me that he and his half-sister did not have a positive relationship, I bypassed inviting her. After a lengthy chat with my grandniece Brianna, we realized her schedule precluded her taking time off from her studies for a single weekend. Instead of the live Brianna, we decided to have her to send a fun video on the night of the party.
My primary cover for the polishing and heavy-duty shopping for the party was the forthcoming visit of the O`Hara’s from San Diego. Saying they had air travel miles to use or lose, I announced they were coming to see our handiwork in the cottage and then continuing on to visit their daughter in Australia. Since they were staying in a Waikīkī time-share, I told Keoni we would join them in town for dinner on the Saturday night of the party…and that they would be coming to brunch the next morning.
One detail I enjoyed finalizing was the order for Keoni’s custom aloha shirt. Fortunately, Beth Surdut is accustomed to dealing with clients who are overwhelmed by their choices. She talked me through several options and I chose a mountain scene with a waterfall surrounded by Hawaiian flowers, birds, and geckos. Without concern for geographical accuracy, I asked her to include a blue parrot to complement his eyes.
As to the menu, I constantly checked in with the Souzas. Eventually we decided that with so many guests wanting to share their personal specialties, I would prepare trays of fruit, veggies and cheese, and order just a few catered dishes. That still forced me to do a little sampling at caterers, which dovetailed with Izzy’s plan to introduce Samantha to Kailua. Being a newcomer myself, I was delighted to be included in one of Izzy’s all-day shopping expeditions.
We began our outing with a classic Hawaiian breakfast of Portuguese sausage, fried rice, and eggs at Times Coffee Shop. Next, we browsed through several stores that demonstrated there was no need to go into Honolulu very often. My favorite stop of the morning was Heritage Antiques, where I arranged to have Auntie Carrie’s silver tea service repaired.
After a couple of hours of power window-shopping, we took a break at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf Shop, where we each made selections for our future drinking delight. At Whole Foods Market, we concentrated on replenishing our pantries and I placed a couple of orders for the party. After a stop at Foodland for bulk paper goods, I declared my party planning complete—except for having the Ladies pick up my orders on the afternoon of the party.
I was thoroughly exhausted by that afternoon, but better acquainted with our neighbors and my new community. And, in keeping with my vow to enter the world of culinary experience more fully, I brought home a couple of Cornish game hens. They seemed like the ideal way to inaugurate use of one of the new ovens Keoni had insisted on having installed.
The following days whizzed past as I continued to personalize our home and take a few baby steps in the realm of cooking. My greatest accomplishment was making a raspberry vinaigrette. I poured it over chicken salad (not homemade) set on fresh greens from Joanne’s garden.
One afternoon I felt incapable of making any decisions regarding dinner and was delighted when Joanne called to announce the arrival of Keoni’s shirt. I opened it in front of all of them and they agreed unanimously that it was a thing of beauty.
“It’s lovely,” cooed Izzy. “Like something you’d see an artist painting in a jungle.”
“Well, actually, Beth does paint on location—most anywhere in the world,” I noted.
“No wonder her work is shown in museums,” commented Miriam. “I should suggest her art to some of my friends with UNICEF.”
* * * * *
“Careful coordination” was the theme of the day of the party. Miriam told Keoni that she was getting ready to have company, so she could not have any work done. I plotted to have Ben call Keoni for help with planting a couple of trees in his front yard. Since the actual date of his birthday was a couple of days later, there was no reason for Keoni to be suspicious. While he was gone, Miriam supervised her Ladies and me as we gathered all the party supplies and non-refrigerated food I had stored at their house. I was lucky that everything fit in the dining room credenza and cupboards.
When Keoni arrived home, I rushed him into the bathroom and then scurried around bringing out a banner and other decorations. Although it would have been fun for him to open my gift at the party, I decided to have him wear it instead. So while he was in the shower, I hung it on the back of the bathroom door with a big bow with one of Beth’s cards hanging from it.
Shortly after that I heard a whoop of joy. “Natalie, where are you?” he called out. “How on earth did you get such a perfect fit?�
�� he asked, buttoning the shirt.
“Oh, a little bird with a paint brush suggested I send your best fitting shirt. I also said you’ve been walking and swimming so much lately that your waist has shrunk a bit.”
With twinkling eyes, he grabbed my hand, “What time are we really due in Waikīkī?”
After a long kiss, I pushed back on his chest. “Actually, this shirt is just the first of tonight’s presents. We’ve got to finish dressing now, and I don’t mean for a trip into town.”
For a moment, he stood looking at me quizzically. “Oh, Natalie. You didn’t.”
“I did. In fifteen minutes Izzy will be here. In half an hour, the World According to Keoni will be arriving for your sixtieth bash. Now come here and let me present your birthday lei and then we need to get with the program sir, or we’ll be giving tours we weren’t intending.”
I then reached into the closet and brought out a maile lei. Bending forward, he accepted my kiss and the long open lei I placed over his head. As he stood looking in the mirror to adjust its position, I put on a classic Tori Richard mu`umu`u in white on black. After another quick embrace, we dashed out of the bedroom ready to greet our guests.
Soon Izzy arrived with Keoni’s red velvet cake, which she had decorated with tropical birds and flowers to harmonize with his new shirt. Next, wheeling in a full complement of electronic equipment, was the DJ dressed in a straw hat, flashy shirt and slacks dating from the 1960s. After him were Miriam, Joanne and Samantha, all wearing short mu`u`mu`us that had to be from the Hilo Hattie Collection. With Miriam walking carefully with a cane, we sat her at a small table near the front door where she could be involved with greeting each guest with a name tag.
I was delighted that Marge and Dan O`Hara were in the next group to arrive. As they moved into the living room, I enjoyed relaying the details of my plotting to keep the party a surprise. I had missed a rendezvous with them when Ariel was murdered, so it was especially good to have some time with them, even if the room was crowded with other well-wishers.
Although she usually avoids strangers, Miss Una pranced in the front door with Anna Wilcox who sported a sleek peach toned caftan. “Obviously she hasn’t forgotten me. So even if she’s enjoying life in the country, we should schedule a few play dates with her mother,” Anna observed.
Most of Keoni’s friends and former colleagues live on O`ahu, but I was also glad to see several from the neighbor islands. One surprise was John Perry, who had worked with Keoni at HPD before taking a job on Maui with the State’s Narcotics Enforcement Division. Although I did not have his contact information, John Dias had made sure he received an invitation. It also looked like he might have spread the word that all the men should wear their own favorite vintage aloha shirts in honor of Keoni.
The house soon filled with guests from the neighborhood clamoring to see the changes in Auntie Carrie’s cottage. As I made the rounds, I caught snippets of conversation as old-timers and new comers offered their perspectives on the last century in Kailua. Their stories ranged from vacationing Victorian era Hawaiian Royals, to the establishment of residential housing developments and cows grazing on the hillside above late twentieth-century restaurants.
When the DJ played a drum roll, everyone gathered together for the presentation of Keoni’s birthday cake. Izzy was known for her fantastic desserts and no one wanted to miss the red velvet chocolate cake filled with red-tinted ganache she had prepared.
Looking at me before blowing out his candles, the man of the evening said, “Thank you, everyone, for making this gathering so memorable.” He then insisted on serving each guest personally with both cake and a personalized greeting.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of smiles, stories of the past, and projections for the future—all set to the tunes of Golden oldies. My breath caught briefly when Lulu Smith talked about barbecues with her family and members of the outrigger canoe club that had carried Ariel’s ashes to sea. No one seemed to notice my response and I was able to regain my composure as everyone offered recommendations of windward attractions we needed to see.
As I passed Keoni with the last tray of teriyaki chicken sticks, I heard Ming Ho ask whether he played golf.
“It seems like every time I start to take it up, life has interfered,” responded Keoni.
“Well, even if you don’t need a golf course on a regular basis, you might want to think about a social membership up at Mid-Pacific Country Club.”
“Wasn’t that founded as a retreat for Honolulu’s business leaders in the nineteen twenties?” I asked.
“Yes. It was only the third golf course on the island. Boy, did they pick the ideal spot for the clubhouse. The views are stupendous from every room. It’s a great place to take guests and they even have a monthly bingo night with dinner buffet.”
Another neighbor chimed in. “They give away some great prizes and the food’s good. Years ago, the Ft. Ruger Cannon Club up on Diamond Head was the place to take out-of-town guests. The views of the ocean and the lights of Honolulu were gorgeous and the meals superb. It was always good to know at least one active duty or retired officer who could sponsor you into such a club for special occasions.”
“I know what you’re saying. My dad was a naval officer. As children, Nathan and I loved to run around the back patio and hide under the Cannon Club’s tables during special events.”
As always, Ming’s wife, Maya looked elegant in a blue and white silk cheongsam. “Now don’t write that place off—at least that location. You should know that Kapiolani Community College took over that Diamond Head site and built its fabulous Ka`Ikena Restaurant up there.”
“We’ll have to try it some time,” I said.
CHAPTER 7
…the midnight murderer… invades the sacred hour
of silent rest and leaves, unseen…
Samuel Johnson [1709 - 1784]
The party had been a great success with friends coming from across O`ahu, the neighboring islands and even the mainland. Not only had we celebrated Keoni’s sixtieth birthday in grand style, but we had established ourselves as a sociable couple concerned with maintaining the integrity of the Lanikai neighborhood of windward O`ahu. Therefore, it was gratifying to hear several guests comment on the balance we had struck between preserving the design aesthetic of my Auntie Carrie’s bungalow and the conveniences of modern living.
Although there was no strike of lightning to announce her presence, I was sure my darling auntie had dropped in that night to see if my new love and I were doing justice to her home and neighbors. Throughout the evening we heard stories about her varied holiday hijinks. Several people chimed in to tell me about one significant night in the neighborhood.
Carrie had loved Halloween especially, when she could dress outrageously and offer unique treats to her neighbors’ children and grandchildren. One year, when she had volunteered in experiments with dolphins at Sea Life Park, she transformed the classic bobbing for apples into a bobbing for baby dolphins event. Unfortunately, the carving of the apples had removed the fruit’s peel, so the caramel topping slid off into the tub of water that had warmed during the preceding daylight hours.
With the night sky occluding a clear view of the tub, no one realized there was a problem until the first round of kids sat up from their attempts to capture the wee dolphins with caramel smeared all over their faces and worse yet, in their hair. To say their mothers were less than pleased was the understatement of the evening. This was at a time when neighbor Henri was still living, so he and Miriam had helped remove the tub from center stage. By the time they were finished, Miriam was the last fatality—with her Gypsy costume covered in a reddish film. After that event, Carrie took an oath to offer only store-bought Halloween treats in the future.
Another story related to a home just up the road. By this point in the evening, most everyone knew I was a writer who gathered stories like other p
eople collect antique dolls. As with many historical tales of Hawai`i, this one included complexities of characters. Evidently the house had been owned for decades by relatives of royalist Robert Wilcox, who had tried to preserve the Kingdom of Hawai`i and its last monarch, Queen Lili`uokalani. The first of the Wilcox owners was one of Robert Wilcox’s nieces, who frequently hosted her sister, Niau Johanna Wilcox, the first woman registered to vote in the Territory of Hawai`i. This was ironic since with the demise of the Kingdom and annexation by the U.S. in 1898 (the year of Johanna’s birth), women had actually lost the franchise they had enjoyed in the Hawaiian Kingdom.
Evidently, Johanna Wilcox’s voter registration was planned as a media event to inspire Island women to participate in the political process. Escorted by governmental powerhouses of the day, Johanna registered to vote shortly after midnight on August 30, 1920. I already knew several stories about the Wilcox family. This one reminded me of my grandmother who had given up the right to vote when she emigrated from Denmark at the start of World War I. Shaking my head, I thought about how casual young women are today about the precious rights their forbears fought so hard to win for them.
For a moment, I lost track of the conversations around me. Thinking of Denmark, I remembered the recent vision I had interpreted as a young Jewish girl’s escape from Denmark to Sweden in World War II. I still could not see any connection between the vision and my grandmother…or any other person in my life. Ah, well, eventually the significance of each of my visions is eventually clarified.
Murder on Mokulua Drive Page 8
