by Chip Hughes
I’ve seen enough.
“May I borrow your camera for a few days?” I ask. “I promise to return it.”
“Whatever,” Ashley says. “Is the video what you need?”
“It is.”
I thank her, have her write another chain of custody statement in my notebook, and walk her back into Safari. Then I drive to Maunakea Street feeling relieved. Now I have a dated video that shows Fireball being served when he’s obviously drunk, and the server, Stormy, appearing to acknowledge that fact. With this I’ve got something Mr. Lindquist’s attorney should be able to use.
More than I could have hoped for.
Back in my office I call the attorney and he’s pleased. It’s turning out to be a good day. I phone Tommy with the news.
Tommy answers, “Howzit, Kai?”
“What—no joke?” I’m stunned.
“I’m not in a laughing mood.” He sounds down. “The wedding’s hit a glitch. Zahra may have to go back to Kenya.”
“How come?”
“Long story,” he says. “Meet you for dinner tonight? Same old place?”
“Sorry, I’m going out with Maile. How about tomorrow night?”
“Okay,” he says.
“You don’t sound good, Tommy. Sure you’re alright?”
“I’ll survive.” He hangs up.
I’m feeling suddenly gloomy as I close up my office and walk down the shag stairs. The atmosphere inside the lei shop doesn’t help. Blossom’s ex-boyfriend, Junior, is back. He’s shouting at her and Mrs. Fujiyama is picking up the phone. Junior rips the phone base cord from the wall, nearly knocking Mrs. Fujiyama down.
Then Blossom rises from her chair, looks him defiantly in the eyes, and shouts, “Get outta here, Junior! Leave me alone!”
Junior lunges over the lei table at her, but I grab him from behind and hurl him down onto the floor. He rolls around on the linoleum, looking dazed. He glances up at his ex-girlfriend standing resolutely by the lei table, and then at me standing over him with fists clenched. No trash-talk this time. Junior pulls himself up, lumbers from the shop, and screeches away in his truck.
A post-traumatic silence descends on the shop. After her display of bravery, Blossom looks stunned. She clutches me and buries her suddenly tear-streamed face in my chest, darkening my aloha shirt.
At that moment Maile steps into the shop with Kula. When she sees Blossom wrapped around me, Maile’s mouth drops open. The color drains from her face. She turns and stalks out of the shop, leaving the golden retriever behind.
I pry myself from the lei girl and run after Maile. “Wait!” I shout. “Maile, it’s not what you think!”
“I don’t want to hear it, Kai Cooke.” She turns around. “You just burned your last bridge.” She runs down Maunakea Street.
I chase after her. Kula pulls up beside me and then darts ahead after Maile. I grab his collar. Maile crosses the intersection at Pauahi Street. By the time we get there, the light turns red. Traffic whizzes by in both directions. I try to restrain the retriever, but he keeps pulling.
“Easy, Boy.” I grip his collar with both hands.
When the light turns green, Maile is already half way down the next block and disappears in the crowded sidewalks around Hotel Street. There’s no use trying to catch her in this traffic. Not with Kula off leash. If anything happens to him—I don’t even want to think about it.
“C’mon, Kula.” I turn around and start walking back to my office. He plants his paws. He wants Maile. That makes two of us.
“It’s okay, boy.” I stroke his warm fur. “We’ll get her back. I promise.”
I coax him to the lei shop. Before we get there I see Junior’s truck pulled over on Maunakea Street behind two HPD cruisers. They’re handcuffing him and putting him in one of the cruisers. Got him! I wish I could be happier about it. No good deed goes unpunished.
Inside the shop Blossom and Mrs. Fujiyama are sitting together at the lei table. Blossom isn’t crying anymore.
“They arrested Junior,” I say. “You’re safe now, Blossom.”
“Oh, mahalo, Kai!” She hugs me and pats Kula.
Then I have an inspiration, and switch to Pidgin. “You like do me one favah?”
She nods. “Shoots!”
I give her Maile’s cell number and briefly explain what just happened.
“Okay, I gonna call right now!” Blossom says. “Fo’ sure!”
She pulls her cell phone from her purse and dials. Before the conversation begins—I don’t want to hear it—I turn to the retriever.
“C’mon, Kula,” I say, “let’s get some wheels and go fetch our favorite pet detective.”
The dog looks up at me, wags his tail, and the two of us head for the parking garage.
About the Author
Chip Hughes earned a Ph.D. in English at Indiana University and taught American literature, film, writing, and popular fiction for nearly three decades at the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa. His non-fiction publications include two books and numerous essays and reviews on John Steinbeck.
An active member of the Private Eye Writers of America, Chip launched the Surfing Detective mystery series with Murder on Moloka‘i (2004) and Wipeout! (2007), published by Island Heritage. The series is now published exclusively by Slate Ridge Press, whose volumes include Kula (2011), Murder at Volcano House (2014), and reissues of the first two novels.
Chip and his wife Charlene split their time between homes in Hawai‘i and upstate New York.
