Burned

by Carol Higgins Clark

  17

  T he couple whom Regan talked to on the beach went to bed very late. When they got back to the room, they drank champagne. Then, when it was a reasonable hour on the East Coast, Carla got on the horn. She couldn’t wait to tell her friends and family the good news about her engagement.

  Carla’s mother was greatly relieved. “It’s about time!” she declared in a sleepy voice. “I thought he’d propose on your anniversary. All day yesterday I cried. I didn’t like the idea of you living with him at such a young age and wasting your time. He’s finally doing right by you.”

  “Thanks, Ma,” Carla said. “I gotta go.” She then called her sisters and her ten best friends. All of whom screamed with joy. All of whom she asked to be bridesmaids. All of whom said yes and said they’d have been insulted if she hadn’t asked.

  Jason was lying on the bed with his eyes closed while she squealed the news over and over again. When the phone was finally free, he called his parents, but they weren’t home. He left them a brief message. “Carla and I got engaged. Talk to you. Bye.”

  “Aren’t you going to call your friends?” Carla asked in disbelief.

  “Why? I’ll tell them when I get back.”

  It was very late when they finally went to sleep.

  When they woke just a few hours later, they ordered room service. “I love it,” Carla cooed as she admired her ring. “I love you. I love us. I am soooo happy.”

  “I hope the coffee gets here soon,” Jason grumbled as he turned on his side. Two nights in a row he hadn’t gotten anywhere near his full eight hours of rest, which was very important to him. Between the night Carla disappeared and all the phone calls last night, he was way behind on his rack time.

  Carla wrapped herself in one of the blue and white cotton robes provided by the hotel and pulled open the sliding glass door to the balcony. She stepped outside, walked to the railing where Jason’s beach towel was draped, and pulled it off. The hotel had specifically asked people not to hang their belongings over the railing. They said it made the place look like a flophouse. They also didn’t want people’s bathing suits and towels getting blown off and landing on other guests’ heads. She sighed deeply. Sometimes Jason was in another world.

  Their tower was set back from the beach. From their fourth-floor terrace, they could see people wandering in and out of the shops. Carla spotted the blond-haired woman who had been on the beach with Regan Reilly the night before. Exuberantly, Carla yelled down to her. “Hey!” she called, waving her arms.

  Kit looked up, squinting her eyes. “Hi! How are you?”

  “Great. I was thinking about what your friend asked me last night-you know, if I noticed anything odd on the beach the other night.”

  “Did you think of something?” Kit called.

  “No. But it’s on the tip of my tongue-or right off the top of my head, or whatever. I know there was something weird, but I just can’t remember what it was. But tell her I’ll think of it.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  “Okay. Have a nice day.”

  “You, too.”

  Carla went back inside where Jason was slowly starting to come to life. He had decided to make coffee using the little pot on the counter in the bathroom. He ripped open the envelope of coffee granules, and they scattered all over.

  “Oh, forget it,” he groaned and lay back down on the bed.

  On the desk was a copy of the magazine called Spirits in Paradise. It had a sticker that read: “Please do not remove from the spa.” Carla grabbed the magazine, propped a pillow against the head-board, and made herself comfortable. Skimming through the pages, she came across an article about the Big Island’s version of graffiti. People collected coral shells on the beach and used them to spell out messages on the dark volcanic rocks lining the sides of the highways. Many people used the shells to express their love for each other.

  “Cool,” she said aloud.

  “What?” Jason asked.

  Carla pointed to the picture of the graffiti and explained it to Jason. “Why don’t we go over there today?” she asked excitedly. “We’ll go on the beach, collect the shells, and then write out Jason and Carla forever. And the date. And we’ll take a picture we can show our kids years from now. It’ll be in the collage at our fiftieth anniversary party.”

  “We’re not even married yet. I can’t believe you’re thinking about our fiftieth anniversary. I thought you wanted to swim in the big dolphin-shaped pool today.”

  “They have gorgeous black beaches on the Big Island. We can go swimming over there. We’re leaving Sunday and won’t get this chance again.”

  “We might not get a flight,” Jason said hopefully.

  “Let’s call and see. It doesn’t take that long to get there. It says so in this article. And we don’t have to pack a suitcase or anything.”

  “How are we going to get around?”

  “They say you can rent a car at the airport. Why not? This is a very special occasion in our lives, Jason.”

  The doorbell rang. “Coming,” Jason boomed as he jumped up and hurried to the door. While the room service waiter wheeled in a table full of breakfast goodies, Carla picked up the phone and called the airlines.

  “A flight at eleven thirty?” she repeated. “You have two seats left? Perfect!” She gave the credit card information and hung up the phone. “Two seats left, Jason. It was meant to be.”

  “How come we didn’t think of this before?” Jason asked as he cut up his pancakes.

  “Because you took so long to propose, that’s why.”

  “The best things to do always come up at the end of a vacation,” Jason muttered. “Things seem like they’d be even better than they really are when you have no time left to do them.”

  “Well, we do have time to do this, so hurry up and eat!”

  Carla ran into the shower, thinking about the picture they’d take of their names written out in shells. She’d have it blown up and hung over their fireplace. It would mean good luck for them forever. It never occurred to her that this could turn out to be a very bad idea. A very, very bad idea.

  18

  G ert and Ev were settled in their seats at the front of the small plane that would soon be taking off for Kona on the Big Island.

  “Ready to go,” Gert declared as she fastened the seat belt around her.

  “That’s right.” Ev stuffed a giant bag under her seat. It contained everything from suntan lotion to notebooks to an extra battery for her cell phone. She also had a couple of disposable cameras.

  “We’ll be taking off in a few moments,” the flight attendant announced. “We’re just waiting for two more passengers.”

  “Here we are!” a young girl’s voice cried breathlessly. “We made it!” She stepped onto the plane, and a young man followed her. The flight attendant smiled but urged them to take their seats quickly.

  “We will,” the girl replied. As she turned to head down the aisle, she spotted Gert and Ev. “Hey there,” she enthused. “Haven’t I seen you two at the Waikiki Waters?”

  “Maybe,” Ev said in a tone that did not encourage further discussion-at least to most people.

  “Don’t you love it?”

  “Ummmmm,” Ev replied.

  “This is my fiancé, Jason.”

  “Please take your seats,” the flight attendant ordered. “We are striving for an on-time departure.”

  “Okay, okay. See you two later.”

  When the couple disappeared down the aisle, Gert and Ev looked at each other.

  “Don’t worry,” Gert whispered to Ev. “We’ll handle it.”

  In the back of the plane, as she pulled her seat belt tight around her, Carla turned to Jason. “I passed those two coming out of the ladies’ clothing store at the hotel when I was going in. I heard the salesgirl say they’re in charge of a tour group. Maybe when we land we can catch up with them and ask them where we should go for lunch. If they lead people on tours, they must know, right, honey?”
>
  “Right. I just want to make sure we return to the airport in time to catch the plane back. We cut this too close.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “Usually with good reason.” Jason closed his eyes and fell fast asleep.

  19

  O n the way back to the hotel, Regan’s cell phone rang. It was her mother calling.

  “How are things?” Regan asked Nora.

  “Still snowy. Our poor deceased skier’s relatives are all at the hotel tearing up the joint. They’ve got cabin fever. The streets are still impassable, so the funeral has been postponed indefinitely. I think the family is spending all their time at the hotel bar having a little reunion. They’re now convinced that old Ernest arranged the weather and is sending a message to them to get out and ski. But none of them are listening.”

  “You should put on your snowshoes and go over and take notes. I’m sure you’d get some interesting material for a new book.”

  “No doubt I would. It’s a small hotel, and rumor is that they’ve already run out of gin.”

  “Nothing like a good snowstorm.” Regan laughed as she gazed through her sunglasses at the clear blue sky.

  “What’s going on in sunny Hawaii?” Nora asked.

  Regan looked out the window of the cab at the beach in the distance. “Well, Mom, I’m on the job again.”

  “What?”

  “A hotel employee drowned yesterday. Her body washed ashore early in the morning. The police think it was an accident, but the hotel manager isn’t so sure. And she was wearing a royal shell lei that had been stolen from a museum here over thirty years ago. The manager asked me to check things out.”

  “That’s terrible. What did she do at the hotel?”

  “She wrote and took pictures for their newsletter. Apparently she wanted to start her own gossip paper. She moved here from New York just a few months ago. She had written for several different publications back there.”

  “Oh,” Nora said as she turned up the heat in the kitchen. “What’s her name?”

  “Dorinda Dawes.”

  “Dorinda Dawes!”

  “Yes. Do you know her?”

  “Regan, she interviewed me about twenty years ago. I’ll never forget that name. I really got burned by her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was young and aggressive and had the ability to get you to say things you normally wouldn’t. I guess that’s what a good interviewer does. Up until then I had never talked about the time when Dad and I were on our honeymoon and I got into serious trouble out in the water. We were down in the Caribbean. I was in the ocean and started getting pulled under. I waved to Dad on the beach. He waved back. I waved again. Finally the lifeguard realized I was in trouble. He rushed into the water and saved me. Dad didn’t realize I needed help.”

  “He thought you were just being friendly.”

  “Regan!”

  “Sorry, Mom.”

  “For some reason I started telling her the story. It didn’t seem like a big deal. We had been talking for a couple of hours, and this was just before she left the house. It ended up being the headline of her story. ‘MY HUSBAND ALMOST LET ME DROWN,’ LAMENTED FAMED MYSTERY WRITER NORA REGAN REILLY.”

  “I don’t remember that,” Regan said.

  “You were about ten years old. It was during the summer. I think you were away at camp.”

  “The article must have made Dad really upset.”

  “Not as upset as I was. All his friends teased him that he was looking for more business. It ended up being a funny story that our friends would tell at cocktail parties, though when it first came out, we weren’t laughing. But, Regan, I find it hard to believe Dorinda drowned. The way she got me to open up about that story was because she admitted to me she was afraid of the water. She said she’d been at the beach right before a hurricane when she was a kid, got knocked over by a big wave, and pulled under. She told me that she hated going in the ocean from that day on, but she loved swimming in pools.”

  “She hated going in the ocean?” Regan repeated.

  “According to what she told me that day. She said she never told anyone that story because it made her feel weak and vulnerable. The discussion started because she flattered me that a scene in one of my books where someone drowned was so real that it gave her chills.”

  “Then Will might be right. This wasn’t an accident.”

  “It’s hard to say. She could have been just trying to soften me up to say something stupid, which I did, but she was so convincing. Be careful, Regan. If she wasn’t acting, the Dorinda Dawes I met all those years ago made it clear that she would never even dip her toes in the ocean alone, day or night. I wonder what happened.”

  “That’s what I’m working on.”

  “And what was she doing with a lei that was stolen even before I met her?”

  “I’m working on that, too.”

  “Where’s Kit?”

  “I think she’s on the beach with the new guy.”

  Nora sighed. “I wish you were there with Jack.”

  “Believe me, Mom, so do I. I’ll talk to you later.” When Regan hung up the phone, she tried to absorb what her mother had just told her. One thing seemed certain: More than twenty years ago Dorinda was already writing stories that embarrassed people. Had she done that here and antagonized someone who wanted revenge? Regan was anxious to go back and read everything that Dorinda had written since she’d stepped off the plane in Hawaii three months ago.

  20

  W ill shut the door of his office. He dreaded making the call, but he knew he had no choice. He poured himself another cup of coffee. It had that muddy look that comes from being on the burner so long a lot of the water has literally dried up. But he didn’t care. He could barely taste a thing.

  He sat at his desk, pulled the phone closer to him, and buzzed his secretary. “Janet, hold my calls.”

  “Whatever.”

  Whatever is right, he thought to himself as he dialed his sister’s number in Orlando. Will’s parents had gone there for Christmas and were staying for the month of January, taking side trips to other Florida cities to see their retired friends. He steeled himself for their reaction to what he had to tell them. The last thing he needed was for his parents to give him a hard time.

  The owners of the hotel were already on his case. They were warning him that the “Be a Princess” Ball had better be a huge success, critically and financially. They weren’t happy that an employee had drowned and then washed up on their beach. “It’s all image,” they told him. “We want the Waikiki Waters to have a happy, positive image. People come from all over the world to enjoy themselves at our fine establishment. They don’t want to come to a place marred by scandal and overflowing toilets!”

  Will swallowed as his sister, Tracy, picked up the phone.

  “Tracy, it’s Will,” he began, attempting to sound cheery. He hated having to call his parents at her house. She’d be hanging on to every word of their conversation with him, sticking her nose into his business. She wouldn’t miss one word despite the fact her three kids were screaming in the background.

  “Hi, Will,” Tracy answered. “How’s it going out there? Any toilets overflow today?”

  “No, Trace,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I need to speak to Mom and Dad.” Some ohana I have, he thought-ohana being the Hawaiian word for family.

  “Hello, Will!” his mother chirped as she picked up the extension. “Bingsley!” she yelled to her husband. “Pick up the phone in the bedroom. Will’s on. Are you there, Will?”

  “I’m here, Mom.” Will could hear his father’s breathing as he slowly brought the phone to his mouth.

  “I’m on, Almetta,” his father grunted. “Hey, big guy. What’s up?”

  “Hi, Dad. Trace, would you mind hanging up? I have something to discuss privately with Mom and Dad.” He knew she’d hear about it anyway, but he wanted her off the phone.

  The phone clicked in their ear
s. No more sounds of screaming kids.

  “She’s off,” his mother said gaily. “What’s going on, dear?”

  “You know that lei you gave me when I moved to Hawaii?”

  “My gorgeous shell lei?” his mother asked.

  “That would be the one. Where did you get it?”

  “Son,” his father said, “you know that we bought it in Hawaii thirty years ago.”

  “I know in Hawaii, but where in Hawaii?” Will asked, trying not to sound impatient. “Did you buy it at a store or at a stand on the street?”

  “I remember that day very clearly,” his mother declared triumphantly. “Do you remember, Bingsley? We bought the bathing suits for the kids and then we saw that boy at the airport who sold us the lei. You wanted to buy a special present for me, but we hadn’t found anything. Then right before we got on the plane to go home, I spotted that lei the boy was trying to sell! It was so beautiful. I have always loved and treasured it, and I just know it brought me luck. That’s why I gave it to you, Will, so you would have good luck in Hawaii. If you had to move so far away, I wanted you to have something that would remind you of me every day. You promised to always keep it hanging on your living room wall.”

  Oh, brother, Will thought. He shook his head and sighed, careful to put his hand over the phone. Once his mother got on a roll, that was it.

  “I remember that boy who sold it to us was only a teenager. He had a round baby face, a mop of unruly black hair, and was wearing shorts and sandals. Dear, do you remember he had the longest second toes we had ever seen?”

  “I didn’t get a look at them,” Bingsley answered his wife. “I was too busy forking over two hundred bucks for the lei. That was a small fortune in those days, you know.”

  “Well, I told you about it many times afterward,” Almetta continued. “I was just so mesmerized by his second toes. They looked as if they had practically been pulled out of their sockets. You know women have operations to shorten their toes now. They get them shaved so they can fit into crazy-shaped designer shoes with pointy toes and spike heels. Isn’t that awful? But let me tell you, that boy was a perfect candidate for that operation.”