Two To Mango

by Jill Marie Landis

  Sparky paused with his mouth open behind the mic as Little Estelle executed figure eights on the scooter while she blared the horn.

  Folks in the food line turned to stare. Servers paused with tongs of pork and noodles and slotted spoons dripping with lomi lomi salmon and long rice. Even the silent men gathered around the coffin sized coolers turned to see what was going on.

  Sparky Cloud turned and slowly faced Kiki. His smile faltered for half a second then he recovered and shrugged apologetically to the dancers from Kaimuki. He nodded to Kiki, and she began to lead the Maidens on stage.

  Big Estelle broke rank long enough to shush her mother. Little Estelle parked right below center stage. Her voice echoed in the silence.

  “About time! My bladder won’t hold forever.”

  Sparky waited until Kiki and the Maidens lined up. Compared to the stage at the Goddess, the Lydgate Pavilion was immense.

  Kiki mouthed, “Spread out!”

  No one moved. There was ample room for them all, but they clumped together in terror. Lillian had paled as white as her muumuu. Standing before some of the top dancers in the islands, the Maidens had lost their starch, which didn’t bode well for their Kukui Nut Festival competition appearance.

  “So, right now we have a little change of pace, folks.” Sparky’s megawatt smile was once again anchored in place. “All the way from the North Shore—as if you couldn’t guess, eh?—we have Kiki Godwin and the Hula Maidens.”

  Everyone understood his crack about the North Shore, also known as Haolewood. He could afford to be snide since the area wasn’t exactly his voting base. And as far as the rest of the kumu and other dancers were concerned, the Hula Maidens were not real hula dancers, they were just women who danced hula.

  If it hadn’t been for Little Estelle’s honk-in, Sparky would have overlooked and left the Maidens lined up until the end of the program.

  Kiki ran over to start the CD on their boom box. Em crossed her fingers beneath the table. Two awkward minutes of silence crawled by as Kiki fiddled with the CD player. The flower arrangement she’d pinned in her hair was beginning to sag. Her face glowed with sweat. Something was definitely wrong.

  Finally she pushed the play button and ran over to get in line. When “Tiny Bubbles” came blaring out of the speakers, Em flinched. All around the open air pavilion, folks stared in disbelief as the Maidens, most of them anyway, began to dance. Lillian stood frozen in fear. Flora, instead of executing steps, swayed back and forth with a vacant smile.

  “Tiny bubbles . . . in the wine . . .” crooned the late Don Ho. Little Estelle sang along at the top of her lungs.

  The tourist favorite was not exactly the anthem for a memorial. While the Maidens limped through the dance, the audience thankfully turned its attention elsewhere. It was too much for Em to watch but she did out of a sense of loyalty mingled with horror.

  When the song finally ended, Kiki ran to the boom box, pushed stop and unplugged the cord. The rest of the Maidens watched in dismay and then after some not so quiet whispers and gesturing, filed off stage.

  Sparky watched them go with almost too much glee.

  “Wow. That was some tribute to Mitchell, eh folks? Tiny Bubbles. I haven’t heard that one in ages. I thought it had been retired in the nineties, but I guess not. Thanks, Kiki. Seeing you and your ladies dance always brings tears to my eyes.” He paused and gave the audience a melodramatic wink. “In a good way, yeah?”

  As the next halau took the stage, Kiki wound up the boom box cord and shot Sparky Cloud a dark glare, then marched past him with head high, shoulders straight. A long piece of fern dangled off the side of her head and hung down near her left shoulder.

  Most of the Maidens had already disappeared into the buffet line. Kiki marched over to where Em and Louie were sitting. She toted a small Igloo cooler.

  “Scooch together. I need a seat,” she told them.

  Em scooched. Kiki wadded up the ruffle on her muumuu, wrestled her legs over the bench and sat down. She slammed the cooler on the table, opened it and pulled out a huge plastic balloon wine glass and proceeded to fill it to the brim with white wine.

  They shared the table with locals, folks with Solo cups of fruit punch and cans of beer. Kiki’s was the only wine glass, and after the Tiny Bubbles fiasco Em would have wanted to fade away. Not Kiki. Em didn’t bother her until the woman had made a dent in the wine.

  “Are you okay?” Em finally ventured to ask.

  Kiki growled. “I brought the wrong CD. Right case, wrong CD inside. None of our serious songs on it. Had to go with Tiny Bubbles.” She took another long swallow. “Only other choice was Mele Kalikimaka, and Christmas is two months.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Em tried to encourage. “The girls all seemed composed. No one fell over.”

  “They were scared spitless. They barely moved.” Kiki refilled her glass. “Can you imagine them competing? Nothing good will happen.”

  “Try to stay positive. It’s a good sign that Sophie found help.”

  “Maybe. We’ll see.” Kiki finally noticed the young woman beside Em. “I know you from somewhere,” she said.

  “I’m sorry,” Em apologized. “I should have introduced you. This is Tiko Scott. Louie’s thinking about adding some of Tiko’s smoothies to the menu.”

  “Ah, yeah. The smoothie lady. That’s how I know you. From the Farmer’s Market. I hear your stuff is great.” Kiki stared at Tiko a moment. “Didn’t you used to dance for Mitchell?”

  Suddenly shy, Tiko nodded. “Yes. For a long time.”

  “I thought I knew you from somewhere other than the smoothies. You’re not with them anymore?”

  “No.” Tiko explained how she was too focused on growing her business to hula.

  “Why don’t you join the Maidens? We’d love to have someone with your experience.”

  “It’s not too late to dance in the competition,” Em added.

  “She’s too young for that,” Kiki clarified. “We’re in the Kupuna division, remember? Old farts only. But we’d love to have you dance with us at our other gigs.”

  “I just can’t make that commitment right now,” Tiko said.

  “But that’s the beauty of our group,” Kiki pressed. “We’re not like a real serious halau. We don’t commune with the land. We don’t get up at dawn to bathe in the ocean before performances. Why, none of us is ever up at dawn. We’re sleeping off the night before. We dance for the joy of it. You can dance with us and still have a life. We’re the party halau.” Kiki held up her wine glass in a salute. Folks around them turned to stare for a minute then quickly looked away.

  On stage, Jackie Loo Tong was going on and on about Mitchell and what a great and talented kumu he’d been and what a great loss the community had suffered.

  “He’s sure an interesting guy,” Em hoped Tiko would comment.

  Kiki said, “Yeah. Probably thanking his lucky stars that Mitchell is gone. Now Jackie’s group will have a chance at the competitions.”

  Tiko leaned closer and lowered her voice. “There’s always been friction between Mitchell and Jackie, but Kawika is more than qualified to take over. He’s got some fresh ideas. Mitchell’s dancers will work extra hard for him.”

  “Too bad they lost two strong leaders in a row,” Em prodded.

  “Pretty rotten break if you ask me. Downright weird in fact,” Kiki said.

  “Very odd,” Em added.

  Tiko disagreed. “Shari was ill for years. She hid it well, though. Mitchell’s death was a shock, but he was warned he hadn’t long to live. No one wanted to believe that, most of all Mitchell, so he went on as if he were healthy. I tried to get him on a good solid nutritional program, but he wouldn’t give up all that rich Hawaiian food. And he loved sweets.” She shook her head sadly. “There wasn’t much anyone could
do but try to cheer him up. The dancers he went out with the night of his death said he was so depressed. He’d been to the doctor that day and wasn’t very optimistic.”

  Em was beginning to think Roland was no more psychic than the bench they were sitting on until she heard Jackie Loo Tong say, “We all know how much Mitchell loved his dancers, and I know he’d only want the best for them. If any of you are interested, we are opening up membership in our halau this week.”

  “Unbelievable,” Kiki’s eyes bulged. “He’s recruiting Mitchell’s dancers right in front of Kawika. In front of the whole audience. Right here at Mitchell’s memorial, and the man isn’t even cold in his grave. That takes some balls.”

  “Technically he’s not cold in his box.” Em quickly scanned the room. It was suddenly so quiet you could almost hear cockroach footsteps in the pavilion. Kawika was in back at the welcome table, one hand resting on the koa wood box that held Mitchell’s ashes and one pressed against his heart. His mouth hung open in shock, but there was cold black fury in his eyes. Em was pretty sure he was contemplating doing major damage to Jackie Loo Tong.

  If he noticed Kawika’s anger, Jackie right went on as if couldn’t care less. “Because we run the halau in the true Hawaiian spirit of aloha, we don’t have a website. We are not looking to make a profit spreading the Hawaiian culture. We just want to dance and to excel at it. If you’re interested, find me later and I’ll be happy to give you my phone number and the details.”

  “Well,” Tiko said, straightening her already perfect posture. “That was not pono. Kumu should behave better. Where’s the aloha?”

  Kiki emptied the wine bottle into her glass. “Wow. That was something. I’m glad I stayed long enough to see it.”

  Tiko asked Em for the time. When she found out it was almost four she said, “I’ve got to go.”

  “Why don’t you call the Goddess this week and set up a time to come by with some samples, and we can talk?” Em suggested.

  “Unfortunately my car isn’t always working,” Tiko told her. “But I’ll try.”

  Tiko reminded Em of Sophie, who drove a rusted, beater Honda. Both young women were trying to make ends meet on an island where everything was overpriced and jobs hard to find. The ones who needed dependable cars the most were the least able to afford them.

  “So where’s Miss Marilyn?” Kiki asked Em. “I saw Louie get up and head for the back of the room.”

  Em looked around. “She was helping in the food line. Oh, there she is. She’s sitting at the welcome table behind the calabash.”

  “I hope someone’s watching the money envelopes.”

  “Kiki, she’s not all that bad. She’s been helping out all afternoon, and she’s not even a member of the halau anymore.”

  “She’s helping so people will notice and think that she’s great. That’s all it is.”

  “Still.”

  “You’ll never convince me she’s on the level.”

  Em noticed Kimo off to the side of the pavilion. “Kimo’s waving, trying to get your attention,” she told Kiki.

  “Probably ready to leave.”

  “Aren’t you going to eat something?”

  Kiki polished off the rest of her wine. “No. After the Tiny Bubbles fiasco I can’t get out of here soon enough.”

  After Kiki left, Em found Louie and told him goodbye. He promised he’d head back to the Goddess in time to lead the customers in The Tiki Goddess song. She was unlocking her car when her cell phone went off.

  Caller ID showed it was Roland.

  She found herself hiding a smile and warned herself to look out. Detective Mr. Sharpe and his oiled up, fire-knife-dancing-self meant nothing but trouble as far as she was concerned.

  “Where are you?” he wanted to know.

  “Hi. Nice to talk to you too.”

  “Sorry. I’m not used to making chit chat.”

  “Chit chat? Hello is chit chat?”

  He was silent on the other end.

  “I hear you breathing,” she said. Okay, so he wasn’t into chit chat, but there was plenty that was right about him. She pictured him oiled up and ready to fire dance on the beach.

  “I’m at Lydgate just leaving the memorial.”

  “Is it over?”

  “Not by a long shot, but I’m tired of sitting on a picnic bench, and I need to get back to the bar. Sophie has been on her own all afternoon.”

  “So it’s up to you and Sophie to run the place tonight?”

  “Kimo and Kiki are headed back. She won’t pass up the chance to dance solo while the rest of them are still here at the luau.”

  “You have time to grab a bite?”

  “Are you asking me out to dinner?” She burped up kalua pork and the combination of foods warring for space in her stomach.

  “I’m going to Scotty’s to have a late lunch/early dinner. Just wondering if you had any info. We could talk.”

  So, Em heard it loud and clear. He wasn’t asking her out to dinner.

  “I’m too full to eat, but I picked up something at the luau.”

  “Then you can watch while I eat. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  She sighed. “I work in a bar. A drink is the last thing I want.”

  “If you want something else, I’d be happy to help you out there, too.”

  Was he actually flirting? She looked at the caller ID again. “Who are you, and how did you get Roland’s phone?”

  “I’ll meet you at Scotty’s in Kapa’a,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  What the heck, she thought. It was on the way to Hanalei.

  14

  Not Officially a Date

  Scotty’s was one of the few restaurants with an ocean view, and Roland had scored a table beside the wide wall of windows outfitted with a bank of garage doors that stayed rolled up when the place was open.

  “I’ve already ordered.” Roland pulled out a chair for her. Once Em was seated, he sat down across from her. “You change your mind about eating?”

  Considering all the pork, chicken, heavy coconut laced dishes, warm, creamy rice pudding, various noodles and baked hunks of taro she’d eaten, she shook her head no.

  “Nothing, thanks. But I could use a club soda.”

  The waitress came over and left him a salad, and he ordered Em’s club soda.

  “So,” he mixed extra Caesar dressing into the greens. “How was it?”

  “Well, for starters, Kiki and the Maidens danced Tiny Bubbles.”

  Roland choked.

  “You need the hinnie-lick maneuver?”

  He choked harder.

  “Sorry, that’s Louie’s joke. Sorry.” Her cheeks were blazing.

  She was about to run around behind him and grab him around the diaphragm, but he finally swallowed and took a drink of water.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay. Tell me you’re kidding about Tiny Bubbles.”

  “It was that or Mele Kalikimaka. It was pretty embarrassing. All the big name kumu and their halau were there. Even Kiki realized it was a terrible choice, but she’d taken the wrong CD, and Little Estelle had stopped the show with a honk-in . . .”

  He held up his hand. “I get the picture. Please, no more.”

  The waitress brought Em’s club soda and promised she’d be right back with Roland’s entrée. The tall coco palms outside the windows were blowing in the trades. White caps danced in the water. Em scanned the ocean. Dark blue water stretched out to the horizon. It was too early for whales to make their annual migration past Kauai, otherwise they’d be putting on a show.

  “Kawika was there. He said all the right things, but he seemed more delighted than mournful to have taken over Mitchell’s halau. You think he could have killed Mi
tchell just to step into his flip flops?”

  “Slippers, not flip flops.”

  “Whatever. Do you think he’d kill to be in charge?”

  Roland shrugged. “It does seem pretty extreme.”

  “The halau has its own website now. Sounds like a real moneymaker.”

  He paused. The waitress arrived and set down his plate. Em stared at his grilled mahi sandwich and cole slaw. It looked great.

  He noticed. “Hungry?”

  “If I eat one more bite I’ll throw up.”

  “Thanks for that. Back to Mitchell’s halau website, I can’t imagine it makes enough to want to kill for it.”

  She shrugged. “Who knows? Something else, could be nothing, though.”

  He took a healthy bite out of the mahi sandwich and waited for her to go on.

  “Jackie Loo Tong openly tried to recruit Mitchell’s dancers as soon as he got on the stage today.”

  “What did Kawika do?”

  “Nothing, but if looks could kill, Jackie would be dead. Do you think Tong killed Mitchell so he could have his students?”

  Roland thought for a minute before he said, “Pretty drastic.”

  “Has anything like that ever happened before?”

  “You asking if anyone has ever murdered a rival kumu?”

  “No. I’m asking if people ever move from one teacher to another.”

  “Sure. Dancers have been known to change halau . . .”

  “Like Marilyn.” Em pictured Louie happily drizzling mango juice into champagne.

  “You know how mad she made Kiki and her merry band when she left them.”

  “Speaking of Marilyn . . .”

  “I heard from a contact, a friend of a friend in California who checked on a few data bases for me.”

  “Wow. That was fast.”

  “That’s the mainland for you. She’s been married four times, never divorced. She’s had bad luck with husbands.”

  Em shook off a chill. “They all died?”

  He nodded. “Nothing suspicious. Seems she goes for older men. Each of them fell ill and died.”