by Eve Gaal
After what seemed like a long but scenic drive, she came to the Waipio Valley lookout point, where she parked and decided to hike down to the black sand beach. Breezy and breathtaking were the first words that came to her mind as she stood looking out to the ocean. Taking a deep breath, she began her descent through a lush, tropical rain forest next to undulating waves. Recent rains had dampened the soil, but the foliage along the trail protected the terrain from erosion. It was a steep path with many winding switchbacks and slippery rocks. The smell of intoxicating, decaying guava fruit surrounded her under banyan trees, ginger, bamboo, sugarcane and hibiscus vines that blocked out the ocean completely. Darkness surrounded her, with bird-filled plants covering every inch of sky above. Giant leaves and treetops canopied above her–sheathing her in green shadows where the sugary aroma of fermenting fruit smelled like a rum distillery.
The first mile down seemed easy, though occasionally it became a slippery slope. The second mile was more of a challenge, but the waves beckoned her forward to a strand of desolate and pristine beach. When she paused for a drink from her water bottle, she looked up and saw huge eyes staring back at her. Big brown eyes with long eyelashes gazed at the intruder, below huge, dangling ears. Penny strained her eyes and saw it chewing on a hanging guava. A mule? A wild ass? It seemed so content just nibbling under an umbrella of verdant leaves in a shady jungle paradise. Suddenly, more ears popped up above the tangle of plants, and even though it felt strange being alone with the creatures, she noticed they quickly lost interest in her. After all, they had a smorgasbord of fruity delights hanging above their nostrils.
The forest had made Penny uncomfortably hot and the sweet smell of overripe fruit made her nauseous. Finally, when she needed a whiff of fresh air, the Pacific Ocean rolled up in front of her and the sunshine reemerged from behind the leaves. On the edge of the black sand beach, she sat down under a macadamia nut tree to take in the view and relax. Hiking, rotting fruit and humidity were plotting against her stomach and making her dizzy. Mere seconds after setting her head on her bag, the hypnotic waves, rocked her to sleep.
* * *
Chapter Eighty-Five
Fist and his friend the tall, bald guy decided to sleep at the dealership. They planned to take turns on the couch by sleeping in shifts and watching the windows for strangers or cops. When the operator left at nine, they told her not to bother coming back the next day and she was happy to comply with their wishes. They also told her that if she called the police they would come after her and her entire family. Based on the severity of their threats, she didn't call anyone but her mother.
“We should have tied her up,” Fist said, removing his leather jacket. “Whiniest little bitch–but did you see her legs?”
“Don't matter now, she's gone.” The tall one grumbled, looking towards the parts department.
Grabbing his crotch, the two sides of Fist's mouth turned up into a lecherous grin. “We could-a had some fun.” Then looking serious again he asked, “What about that F-in parts guy, did he go home?”
“Yeah, everyone's gone. We just have to wait for Darin.”
A few minutes later, Fist started running around switching lights off in all the sales offices, but light still poured into the showroom from businesses across the street. Outside lights beamed onto the new and used cars, reflecting into the dealership. Fist ran around the corner of a hallway, bumping into his hairy accomplice.
“Fist, what's that on your face?”
“What d'ya mean?” Fist rubbed his face quickly, slapping his hands across his cheeks as if he had walked through a spider web.
“I know what it is, you stupid moron. We're here for the money, and if you mess around you'll be back in the hole with your sorry ass brother.”
Fist shrugged and said, “A million dollars' worth of coke back there and I thought I'd try it out. What the fuck. Who cares?” Wild, glassy eyes made him look like he recently escaped from a psychiatric ward. His entire face glowed from perspiration and his malodorous scent made Baldy step back into the showroom.
“I do. No more, you got it?”
Full of nervous energy, Fist picked up a leather and chrome chair. Tossing it into the air, it hit a ceiling mounted security camera, which broke into hundreds of pieces. The loud crash of the object filled the quiet showroom. “I'm getting tired of waiting for the cocksucker,” he yelled, walking to the biggest piece. Picking it up, he threw it across the room, haphazardly aiming, but missing the garbage can on the other side.
“Settle down before they sign you up for the San Quentin basketball playoffs,” his friend chuckled. “And lay off that shit–don't forget you told the operator to tell that Penny chick to come here. We need to be prepared. Bad enough those other two got loose. They might be yappin' all over.”
“I know, I know, you keep reminding me but those first two won't say nuttin' 'cause I told 'em they'd die.” Fist scratched his head and turned off more lights. They followed each other down the corridor to Darin's office. “I think the broad who's coming will know about the money and everything. Remember,” he said with excitement. “Darin called this deal 'Operation Penny'.” He spread his arms out adding, “I've got this whole place wired just for them two.” Fist pulled his jacket over himself on the couch. “Come to Papa, Miss Penny. You either give us our money or Bam!” He swung a fist into the air.
“I'll tell you one thing, they don't call you the Fist for nothing.” His tall, bald friend walked to the mirror behind the door to check his reflection, “I'll wake you in a couple hours,” he said, scratching an area between his legs and adjusting the collar of his shirt.
“Wait,” The Fist yelled. Watching his friend juggle his balls reminded Fist he needed to warn him about the urinals.
“What?”
“Darin might be back, so I've got his bathroom and the first stall in the public restroom fixed up like the Fourth of July.”
“What sets it off?”
“Piss.”
* * *
Chapter Eighty-Six
“Did you hear the latest?” Glenn leaned towards Anne before they went on the air.
Smiling back, she waved her sheets of headlines, “Probably,” a speckle of sarcasm in her lilting voice. “What now?”
“That big car dealer guy got busted in a smuggling operation.” He loved giving Anne news before she knew about it. It made him feel important, and it helped his fragile ego–the insecure ego that constantly reminded him about being the newsroom rookie on an island with two news channels. This time he had the scoop, almost all of it and he hoped it would launch his career into Cronkite-like orbit.
“I heard something about it, but I don't think we've received any confirmed reports,” She said, flipping through the pages in her hand and scanning the contents. “Did that chopper pilot have something to do with it?” She asked, still wondering why her notes didn't have the story.
He pointed to the clock because her time was almost up. “Yeah, and an American Airlines pilot too.” Searching her face, he could tell she was impressed. Today she wore a smart looking, cool turquoise suit that matched the unflappable expression she had poised for the camera. Her sophisticated scarf looked like a botanical study of yellow sunflowers, daffodils and daisies, contrasting with the pale background behind her and actually highlighting the shining gold desk in front of her.
“Sounds like they have a few more idiots to pick up and haul to jail before they spill the beans,” she said with a smile. When the red on-air sign blinked, she looked into the camera and reported the latest robbery on Maui.
Glenn wanted to be like Anne. She was the epitome of style, panache, confidence and authority squeezed into a gentle woman with excellent diction. As broadcast journalists go, he hoped that somehow, her nearness, would rub off, and through osmosis he could transform into someone with her exceptional talent.
This time, he had something in his figurative pocket that could speed up his simmering renaissance. In a twist of fate, h
is little sister was the new telephone operator at Martin Automotive. She told their mother a long harrowing tale about how two guys had held her hostage. Their mother called the police who took a report and said they were aware of the entire fiasco. The authorities were going to protect his sister from the two idiots they had been watching for days. All the pieces were coming together, but they had to make sure they had all the players before they swooped in to make the huge bust. His sister also told the police that one of Darin's friends was on her way. They reassured the entire family that his sister was safe. Glancing at his watch, Glenn knew that in a matter of hours, a SWAT team would descend onto the dealership and he would be reporting the breaking news like a modern archangel.
* * *
Chapter Eighty-Seven
It had to be worth a try, John thought, dialing American Airlines. He sat on hold for what seemed like half an hour when a woman's voice finally came on the line.
“Where can I get a list of pilots who flew into Hawaii three days ago?” He asked, with a firm, business-like demeanor.
“I'm sorry? We don't have a list of pilots going specific places. Do you have a name and I'll give you their ETA?”
“No, I don't have a name, but…,” he paused to think about how to proceed and which questions he should ask. Since he knew she needed more information, he remained kind but persistent. “Are there a lot of pilots flying into Hawaii with your airline?” Desperation made him change his tack.
“Well, yes sir,” the woman replied, “We have at least forty different pilots who fly into Hawaii and this time of year many of them cover for each other due to the holidays. So you see, we really don't know which pilots are on what flights, and even if we did, it would not be information that would be available to the general public, you understand.” To clarify her long-winded monologue, she added, “Due to security concerns.” Finally taking a breath, she asked, “May I ask about the purpose of your inquiry?”
He had a live person on the other end, a friendly, somewhat patient human being who might be able to help him. “My girlfriend,” he began, before debating whether he should say anything and then deciding he might as well dump it into her lap. “She flew off with one of your pilots.” There, he said it, and even though he had a tingling sensation on the back of his neck, he felt better getting it out.
Clearing her throat she replied, “I'm sorry sir, but that's typically what people do, when traveling. They fly off with pilots.” She had a kind, British accent and sounded like she'd listen to his woeful tale.
“Yes,” he said, realizing his blunder. “But my girlfriend took off with him.” He put his fist in his mouth to keep from getting emotional.
“Oh–,” she exclaimed, realizing what he meant. “I think I see.” Sighing somewhat loudly, she asked, “What's your name sir?” Poor bloke lost his girlfriend, to one of them cheating bastards, she thought. The pilot stories ran the gamut and they were usually bad. She started doodling hearts and stars onto a sticky-note pad.
“John,” he answered, his voice quivering while his mind raced to think of a better angle.
“I just hate calling everyone sir when they sound so nice,” the lady said.
“Thanks, John whispered, “I know you can help me.” He had made a connection–he felt confident this compassionate woman would assist him somehow. He quickly prayed a short, quiet prayer to St. Anthony.
“You still there, John?”
A miracle made him ask the right question, and fate gave him the right answer. “Are there any pilots on vacation in Hawaii?”
“Only two, but I can't say who. The only reason I know, is because they had some flight delays from a bloody volcano over there.”
“Where do they stay when they're on vacation?”
“Well, usually, they like the fancier resorts, with the golf courses–like the one in Princeville.”
Hand shaking, John scribbled the word Princeville on the scratch pad next to the phone. “Can they stay where they want to?”
“Usually,” she said. “But honestly, I wouldn't know. The pilots get the Kamaaina rate everywhere they go and of course the airlines pick up the tab.”
“Kamaaina?”
“Sorry, that means local island rate.”
“Oh. Have you ever been here?” John asked.
“Yes, I have,” she answered, giggling at his personal question and drawing another heart, this time with an arrow through it. “Why do you ask?”
“I just wondered which resorts were the best. It's my first time here, and I'm not that familiar with the islands. I'm on Oahu in Waikiki and it's the only area I've seen.”
“You've never been to the Big Island or Kauai?” she asked, sounding amazed.
“Nope, I'm new to all this Hawaiian stuff.” He wrote Big Island down on the paper and tried spelling Kauai. “Which island has the prettiest, most fantastical resorts?”
“Fantastical?” she laughed. “They are all beautiful in their own way–but I like Kauai.”
“Great, that gives me a place to start,” he said, folding and slipping his note into his pocket.
“Start what?”
“My search for the pilot who stole my Penny,” he replied.
“Oh, spot on.” Her voice quietly faded as she crossed out the heart with a big X.
“Thank you so much,” John exclaimed. “I really enjoyed talking to you.”
“Yes, jolly good,” she said, pausing. “I hope you find her.”
* * *
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Her head was hanging into a bowl of slop. “Please don't give me any more. Can't you see I'm sick?”
“We can't hear you, what did you say?” Pouring her a drink, they laughed and said, “Here, this will wash it down. Don't make stinkface.” Ukulele music strummed in the background and the smell of rotting fruit filled the air.
Wiping her mouth, she repeated, “I'm sick.”
Those who weren't dancing were lifting spoons of brown paste into their mouths. “Here Penny, have a little more, I made it for you.” Onoliscious. Her arm swung up defensively flicking the spoon and its contents away, spraying food all over her leg and all over the table. “Now look what you've done,” everyone said in unison. The music stopped and everyone turned towards her. They angrily approached with spoons high above their heads. They marched closer, shouting and nearing….
“Wait. Don't be mad, just because I don't want any more poi.”
Penny woke from yet another nightmare to kisses, or maybe drooling slurps. Something wet licked her arm, and moved up her neck snorting hot guava breath onto her face. Opening her eyes, she saw enormous eyes, huge lashes and giant hairy nostrils. Quickly, she pulled away rolling out from under the smooching beast. The wild asses that roamed the jungle floor had wandered out from the foliage to inspect the sleeping trespasser.
“Yuck,” she yelled, “Get away.” Disgusted, she stood up and moved her stuff closer to the rising tide. Though she thought they were cute, she also thought they should stick to their own kind. She took off her boots and socks and walked on volcanic, black sand, into the water to rinse off the spittle. When she looked up, she saw the creatures retreating into the leafy vegetation. “Just kiss and run huh?” She laughed. Reflecting on all the strange things happening on this vacation, she kept on laughing uncontrollably, until tears formed in the corners of her jewel-tone eyes. The barren beach had trees protecting it on all sides, hiding it like a private cove made only for those willing to take a strenuous hike. It was a good place to let loose and have a laugh, even if she was becoming the punch line. Kicking sea-foam into the air, she pranced in the waves on the deserted beach and thought about the quixotic ass. Heading back through the dense groves up the trail, she hoped that soon she'd be kissing John.
* * *
Chapter Eighty-Nine
The concierge desk finally located a phone book for John. He spent the morning dialing all the resorts on Kauai and asking if any airline pilots were staying there f
or the upcoming holiday. The question seemed absolutely ludicrous to most of the front desk clerks who laughed, although pleasantly, and said they didn't know. First of all, a front desk clerk was not supposed to give out any personal information and secondly, how could they possibly know everyone's occupation?
Frustrated and nearing the end of his list, John dialed the number for The Princeville Resort and Spa, where the lady had been kind enough to inform him that airline pilots frequently chose Princeville for the wonderful view and complimentary golf.
“Complimentary golf?” A blinding light bulb flashed like a beacon in his head.
“Yes, because we love airline pilots, we reward them with free golf,” the young lady stated matter-of-factly.
“Let's say I'm an airline pilot…you mean I could play for free–no charge?” John seemed astonished that flying a plane could offer up distinct perks and such wonderful advantages.
“Yes, because you would bring us paying visitors.”
