“Would you like me to make coffee before I shower?” she offered.
“Nope. I’m good. Maybe when you get out. That’s soon enough.”
As she passed Letterman’s cage and noticed it was still covered, she knew her uncle was far from “good.” He and Dave were always up at the crack of dawn. She uncovered the parrot’s cage. Sensing something was wrong, the macaw paced over to the edge of the perch, stuck one eye between the bars of the cage, and stared at Louie.
Em took a quick shower in the lava rock walled outdoor garden, slipped back into her shorts and a tank top, and wrapped the towel around her head. She stepped out of the private shower garden area and paused to stare out at the endless rolling waves.
“Aloha, Em. I just heard.”
Em watched Sophie cross the yard toward her. She reached for Em and gave her a long hug and then air kisses beside each cheek, then she pulled back and studied Em’s expression.
“You doing okay?”
“Sure,” Em nodded. “I think I’m still in shock. You’re here early.”
“I came to see what I can do. I figured folks would be coming to pay condolences soon.”
“Really? You think so soon?”
Sophie shrugged. “Somebody just died. That’s what we do.”
Em had no idea what Sophie meant until within the hour, the house was full of people and a mountain of casseroles. So many people showed up and trooped through that they ran Louie right off the sofa, forcing him to retreat into his room.
Once the Maidens had started to pass the word, the news spread on its own as fast as guava jelly on hot toast. Suzi, Trish, and the Estelles arrived. Since there was no wheelchair ramp into the beach house, Little Estelle volunteered to drive around the parking lot and direct traffic.
“Only if you wear your collapsible umbrella hat, Mother,” Big Estelle told her. “That hot morning sun will fry your brains, and you’re loony enough already.”
There was much shouting exchanged, but eventually Big Estelle managed to get the umbrella hat strapped to her mother’s head, and Little Estelle rolled away to the parking lot.
Flora arrived toting a forty cup coffeemaker and set it up in the kitchen. Suzi dug into her briefcase and pulled out masking tape and marking pens and made sure names were attached to every casserole dish that wasn’t disposable. Trish shifted things around in the refrigerator and told Em that she hoped they had space over in the big double wide in the bar because they were already out of room.
Neighbors and Goddess patrons she knew and folks she’d never met continued to stream into the house. Em was in awe of how everyone started pitching in to help the minute they arrived.
“Em? ’Scuse me.” A short, dark-haired Hawaiian lady spoke in such thick pidgin English that Em wasn’t sure what she’d said, but it sound like, “Pickup truck wit da tables is here. Where you want ’em?”
“Tables?” Em had no idea what tables the woman was talking about.
Suzi suddenly joined Em in the living room. “Have the guys set them up under the awning, Duchess.”
“What tables? What awning?” Em said.
“The wooden tables and benches for folks to sit on. The awnings are up already. Some of Kimo’s buddies put them up half an hour ago.”
Em hurried out to the front lanai with Suzi at her side. Sure enough, a huge awning covered a good portion of grassy lawn that bordered the sand. The table crew was already unloading long collapsible wooden tables and benches from the back of a pickup someone had driven onto the yard. Two men were scraping the barbecue, and a couple of younger guys were unloading a long white cooler the size of a tugboat.
“I don’t get it,” Em said. “It looks like we’re having a luau out there.”
“Everyone knows you need help feeding all these people,” Suzi said.
“But I don’t even know all these people. They haven’t only brought food, they’ve lugged in everything but their kitchen sinks.”
Flora was suddenly beside Em too. She threw an ample arm around Em’s shoulders.
“Eh, Hawaiian style. You need help, we show up.”
Show up they did, all morning long. More than once Em paused to wipe away tears witnessing such an outpouring of aloha.
Close to ten in the morning, Sophie found her. “It looks like you have plenty of help. I’ll go over and get things set up at the bar. Kimo should be here soon.”
“What if the place still stinks from the fire?”
“No worries,” Soph said. “We’ll get it cleaned up. I’ll see if I can find Buzzy and have him bus tables. Don’t you or Louie worry about the place today. We’ll manage.”
Suzi had her phone in hand. “I’ll call Pat and have her bring over her cleaning crew. I use them for the rentals I manage.”
Em didn’t know how to thank them. She couldn’t imagine there would be anyone but tourists in the bar today. The whole North Shore would end up in the yard soon.
In all the hubbub, Em had forgotten all about Kimo and Kiki until Sophie mentioned Kimo. So far she hadn’t seen either of them. Surely they’d been notified about Marilyn’s death. Everyone else on this side of the island apparently knew. It wasn’t like Kiki not to be right in the middle of things, and Em wondered why she wasn’t.
Sophie had no sooner walked out than the wedding coordinator from the hotel in Princeville finally called back. Em had left her a cryptic voicemail message trying to explain the situation.
“Did I hear right?” The young woman’s French accent sounded decidedly thicker than the first time Em had spoken with her. “Ze wedding is oof?”
“Oof? Yes, I’m sorry, but the bride died, so the wedding is oof. I don’t know what else to say.”
“Miz Marilyn Lockhart signed a contract for ze expenses.”
“Today definitely isn’t the day for us to deal with that. I called to let you know that the wedding is cancelled.”
Em stepped aside as an elderly little Japanese-American woman hustled through the door carrying a huge rice cooker. There had to be thirty pounds of cooked white rice in the kitchen already. Flora and Trish continued to hover at Em’s elbow and direct the flow of aluminum pans.
Outside, the men were almost finished pounding the pile of tables and benches together. In a corner of the parking lot beyond the lawn, Little Estelle zoomed up to block a parking space and began to make threatening gestures until she succeeded in waving away a white van.
The Cougar remained at her post, guarding the space until Kimo pulled into the spot in his gecko-green pickup a minute later. He hopped out of the vehicle alone.
“I’m terribly sorry,” the hotel wedding coordinator said, “but Miz Lockhart and Mr. Marshall will definitely lose ze deposit. Unfortunately, ze food has already been purchased, so you will be responsible for zat expense as well.”
“Is it really too late to cancel the food? You surely haven’t cooked the steaks and lobster yet?”
“I am afraid it’s too late regardless.”
Em was so flustered she said goodbye and hung up. Flora grabbed the cell from her, hit redial, and asked for the wedding coordinator.
“Eh,” Flora said. “You the lady who just hung up? You know the woman who just talked to you about the cancelled wedding? She changed her mind. She wants all the steaks and lobsters she’s payin’ for. Cook ’um and bring ’um to the Tiki Goddess. Yeah. Today. Wikiwiki.” Flora hung up and handed Em her cell.
“What are we going to do with seventy-five steaks and lobsters?”
“You kidding me?” Flora waved toward the yard. “We got a lotta folks to feed. Everybody needs plenty food in a time of grief. What we don’t eat, you sell over at the bar. You gotta pay for them anyway.”
Em nodded. “You’re right. Good thinking.”
“For sure. I’m a darn good
businesswoman.” Flora walked over to the corner where she’d left her big woven plastic purse. “It’s gotta be close to ten.”
Em and Suzi watched her pull a Gatorade bottle full of green liquid out of her bag, open it, and take a swig. Flora smacked her lips and smiled.
Suzi and Em watched Flora head into the kitchen.
“You can bet that’s not straight Gatorade,” Em said.
“Will you be okay? I’m going to make sure the kid I put in charge of labeling the casseroles is not screwing up,” Suzi said.
“I’m fine.” Looking around, Em felt as if Marilyn had somehow managed to take over their lives from the great beyond. “I need to check on Uncle Louie.”
Suzi left, and Em was about to go find Louie when she saw Nat headed for the house. He waved at a neighbor he recognized and then smiled her way when he saw her standing in the doorway.
“What’s going on?” He looked around, bewildered. “Did you have to move the wedding? Are they getting married on the beach?”
The men standing near the barbecue overheard and fell silent. Em shook her head no and motioned him inside. She lowered her voice.
“Marilyn had an accident last night. She drove off the road just past Wainiha Bay and was killed.”
His eyes widened behind his tortoiseshell glasses. “No way.”
Em nodded. “It’s true. She’s gone. Uncle Louie is taking it pretty hard, as you might imagine, and now this place is as crowded as a mall on Black Friday.”
17
When the Going Gets Tough—Eat More
Before Em could tell Nat more, her cell phone rang, and she glanced at the caller ID.
“It’s Randy Rich,” she told him. “I’d better take this one.”
The producer asked to speak to Louie. Hoping a conversation with Randy might get Louie moving again, Em excused herself and found Suzi in the kitchen with a couple of high school aged girls. The realtor was pointing at covered dishes.
“Put the side dishes over there.” Suzi fanned her hand toward the far corner of the counter.
“We’ve got seven potato-macs,” one of the girls said.
A mix of potato and macaroni salads was a staple at any gathering. Em had yet to get used to the combo, but everyone else managed to put away mounds of it.
“I’ve got to get this call to Uncle Louie,” Em told Suzi. “You’re in charge.”
“Of course. I thought I was already,” Suzi said.
Em knocked on Louie’s bedroom door, and when he didn’t answer, she poked her head in. The dark, floral-print curtains were drawn. The sun shone through, casting the room in green and yellow shadows.
“Uncle Louie?” she whispered.
“I’m awake,” he said, sitting up. He still had on his robe and was in about the same shape as when she last saw him.
“I’m sorry to disturb you.”
He shook his head. “Plenty of noise out there. I can’t sleep anyway.”
“I think the whole North Shore is here.”
“Nice to know they care.”
“Randy’s on the phone.” She held her cell out to him.
Louie waved it away. “I don’t want to talk to him. You do it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I’m not up to it.”
She stepped out into the hall and heard Flora yell, “Who moved my Gatorade bottle?”
Em headed for her own room in the back corner of the house. She had her own private covered lanai that faced the ocean, so she stepped outside and sat in her favorite reading spot.
“Hi, Randy,” she said. “Sorry about that. Uncle Louie’s not up to a conversation right now. Can I help you?”
“Sounds like you’re at the wedding. Wish we were there.” He sounded disappointed.
“Actually, we’re at the house. The wedding’s off.”
“I didn’t think it would last. I hate that we didn’t get the break up on film.”
“It’s a bit more complicated than a break up. Marilyn is dead.”
“What? I can’t believe it. What happened? She have a heart attack or something?”
“No, she had an accident. Her car went off the road on the curve near Wainiha Bay and went into the ocean last night. She didn’t make it.”
“Damn! We just missed it. Damn.”
The unfeeling bastard was the last person Em wanted to deal with. “Listen, we’re very busy here. I need to go.”
“Hey, don’t hang up. I just called to say that I’m sorry about what happened to the show, but the insurance company hit the roof when Bobby was murdered. We’ll put as many episodes together as we can, right up until that last day of filming. In a perfect world, maybe we’ll get the okay to come over and add a postscript before we’re finally all done editing. If the show turns out to be a big hit, and once the murder is solved, we’ll be back.”
I hope not, Em thought. She was careful not to tell him about the death of the maid at Haena Bay Resort.
“Speaking of solving the murder, do you know if anyone on the mainland was out to get Bobby?” she asked.
“From everything we’re hearing over here, he was an all-around great guy. It’s a shame this had to happen to him.”
“That’s for sure.”
“Listen,” he said, “I’m sorry about Marilyn, but boy, what a twist. I sure wish we were there. What a great season finale . . .”
She hung up on him without a goodbye and watched a white cloud drift across the deep blue sky. At first she thought it looked like a billowy wiener dog. As the cloud moved slowly over the ocean, its shape shifted until it reminded her of a sashimi knife. Then it gradually morphed into a penis.
Em glanced at her watch. It wasn’t even ten thirty in the morning, and she had already lost it. Par for the course around here. She thought about talking to Louie again. Maybe if she reminded him Marilyn deserved a memorial cocktail, he might snap out of it, but she decided to give him a little more time before she tried to get him out of his robe and his room.
“Kiki’s here.” Suzi found Em as soon as she walked back into the main room.
“Where is she?” Em straightened the hem of her tank top, wishing she had changed.
“Over there with the midget.”
“Midget isn’t the politically correct term.”
“Okay, she’s over there with the Menehune.”
Menehune were the legendary little people of Kauai who inhabited the island before the Hawaiians arrived. Small in stature, they were capable of lifting heavy stones and magically completing rock walls when no one was looking, or so the legends claimed.
“She’s not a Menehune,” Em said. “Precious is a little person or LP.”
“Whatever.” Suzi pointed. “They’re over there.”
Em spotted them on the sofa. “Come with me,” she told Suzi. “I need to make some decisions, and I need help.”
Kiki jumped up when she saw Em, and by the time Em crossed the room, big alligator tears were streaming down Kiki’s face. She grabbed Em and pulled her into a hug.
“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe she’s gone,” Kiki wailed while rocking Em back and forth.
It had been a long night and even longer morning. Em wasn’t about to respond to Kiki’s dramatics and start trouble. She pulled out of Kiki’s grasp. Precious had no such reservations.
“How about turning off the waterworks, Kiki? We all know there was no love lost between you and Marilyn,” Precious said.
Kiki batted her eyes, forcing a few more tears to fall. In a high, thready voice she said, “Marilyn and I may have had our differences, but we were hula sisters once. That’s a bond that’s hard to break. Some of us have literally walked through fire together,” she sniffed. She turned to Em. “Do you know what
really happened? I heard she drove right off the curve at a hundred miles an hour.”
“All I know is what Roland said. Her car flew off the road and ended upside down about twenty-five feet off shore. Divers pulled her out.”
“It’s a shame about her car. What happened to it?” Kiki reached into her bag, pulled out a tissue, and blotted the corner of her eye, taking care not to dislodge her false eyelash. “That Mercedes was only a few months old.”
“They were going to hoist it out today.”
“I passed a trailer truck in Kapa’a on my way out here,” Precious said. “It was hauling a black Mercedes. I wondered if it was hers.”
Em knew the tears Precious tried to blink away were real.
“Who would want her dead?” Kiki said.
“Besides you?” Precious shrugged.
Kiki pointed a finger toward the ceiling. “I did not kill that woman.”
“Did you want to talk about something, Em?” Suzi was watching the volunteers milling in the kitchen. “I really need to oversee all those casseroles.”
“I hope there’s enough food.” Kiki watched two teenagers try to find room on the counter for another huge aluminum pan.
Em said, “I can’t reach Marilyn’s nephew, and I’m worried that crucial decisions will have to be made about . . . well, about what do with her until he gets here.”
“They’ll have to keep her on ice.”
“Kiki!” Em almost told her to shut up for her own good.
“Well, what do you suggest?” Kiki was digging in her purse again. This time she pulled out a small mirror and inspected her lipstick.
“What about Louie? Shouldn’t he be the one to decide?” Suzi’s cell went off, but she ignored it.
“I can’t get him to get up.”
“That’s no surprise at his age. Maybe he should try Viagra.” Kiki snapped the mirror shut and dropped it into her purse.
“What are you talking about?” Precious was nearly engulfed in the deep rattan sofa cushions.
“Em just said Louie can’t get it up.”
Three to Get Lei'd Page 10
