There was very little hesitation before Alexander answered. “I think there more to the argument than she letting on.”
“Ditto. But, we also have to consider the possibility that Andi is on the run from this Blueslover. This could be a much bigger problem than Benni realizes.”
CHAPTER FIVE
At eight the next morning a very bleary-eyed and snippy Benni took us to a local rent-a-dent outfit so we could have our own car. On the way, she told us she’d gotten home at 3AM and needed to go back for a couple hours of sleep before picking up “Cam the Pain in the Ass” at noon. It sounded to me like Cam was one of those people with too much money and too little common sense.
The car we rented was only a few years old. A few minor dents and dings were the only noticeable sign of wear-and-tear. Warren’s store was located on Ali’i Drive. The prime location on the main tourist drag gave thousands of locals and tourists alike the chance to assuage their individual caffeine addictions from morning till night. From outside, the building looked like a gazillion other glass-fronted, nondescript stores across the country. However, what made Warren’s unlike most of the others was the outdoor ambience. Where else did they have Kona’s swaying palms, or that million-dollar view of the Pacific Ocean just beyond a rock retaining wall on the other side of the road?
The line to order was relatively short. We were behind a family of four—Mom, Dad, two overly active boys. I leaned toward Alexander and whispered, “Any of these people look like locals?”
He cocked his head at a guy wearing a sweatshirt and shorts. “Tourists don’t wear sweatshirts in this heat.”
“What did I wear my first year?” I couldn’t even remember.
“You was always wearing aloha shirts. You had some really bad ones, too.”
Come to think of it, I still had a couple of those shirts stashed away in my closet. And Alexander was right, they were atrociously gaudy.
The cashier, a young girl probably fresh out of high school, motioned me forward. Her dark hair had been loosely pulled back and her bangs hung to the left, giving her the appearance of having one eye. According to the name tag on her apron, she was Raylene. “What can I get’cha?”
“Uh, coffee, small.”
“One twenty-five.”
Alexander leaned in close. “Same for me.”
“I’m paying for his, too.” I pulled out my wallet and Alexander patted my shoulder.
“You one big spenda’, McKenna.”
I ignored his comment and listened to the background music—a standard contemporary island mix of mellow Hawaiian rhythms. Now in my eighth year as a kama’aina, I’d heard Hawaiian Style Band, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, and even the Caribbean’s Bob Marley hundreds of times. For the first year or two, the songs had been catchy and fun. Now I wondered why someone didn’t add new stuff periodically. I suspected “new” wasn’t in the budget. Either that, or maybe it was part of the island-retail psychology designed to lull tourists into forgetting they’d have to pay for this vacation when they returned home.
While the cashier handed me change for my five, I took the opening to ask my first question. “You have wi-fi, yah?”
Raylene turned away and filled two cups with steaming hot black liquid. She capped each before placing them on the counter, making sure to shake her head in precisely the right way to flip the bangs out of her face. Her expression wasn’t the usual friendly greeting, it was more like she expected me to cause trouble. “We gotta have it. All the tourists here? No wi-fi and they’d go down the street.” She glanced past me to the next customer. I had no idea how many were in line, but I was hoping to squeeze in one or two more questions.
“Do you have a lot of regulars who use it?”
She leaned to one side, her desire to move on obvious. “You might want talk to Warren; I only work part-time. You need me to get him for you?” She winced—probably to show me how little she wanted to call in the boss—then peeked around me at the line I was ignoring. “I’ll get in trouble if I don’t take the next customer.”
Alexander nudged me, “We got people behind us, brah.”
“I’ll come back when you’re not so busy.” I switched my little cup from hand-to-hand to avoid scorching my fingers. I gave her a smile, which she returned once we stepped out of the way. We found an empty corner table for two.
“How come you think Warren gonna tell a stranger about his customers?” Alexander asked. “I don’t think he gonna do that.”
“You’re missing the point,” I said. “Now we know we’re in the right place. What we’re looking for next are the people who are alone. The wi-fi was just a way to get her talking. That’s what you have to do when you’re looking for someone, get people to talk.” I took the chair facing into the shop so I could watch the action. Behind Alexander, a young man with a bad case of acne typed on a laptop. The kid’s eyes flicked up at me as I pulled out my chair. I gave him a little nod and he immediately dropped his gaze to the screen before him.
The family of four sat around a table to my left. The two boys ignored their parents while Mom laughed and tried to engage them. Hubby did a splendid job of ignoring the family while he worried the screen on his phone.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “The backs of these chairs are like wood.”
“They are wood.” Alexander peered at me. “You got another sneaky McKenna move up your sleeve to find Andi?”
“She’s certainly not here. I wish I knew what this Blueslover looked like.” I took a sniff from the cup. “Smells like burned rubber.”
“Don’t smell that bad to me. Maybe you wanna talk to Warren about it?”
At the family’s table, Dad started showing something on his screen to Mom and the boys. Within seconds, the boys lost interest and were sword fighting with plastic stirrers they’d scrounged from the coffee-condiment area. I also saw that Raylene had dispatched her last customer and was preparing a new batch of coffee.
“Yup, it’s time.” I stood, but had to stop when the smaller of the two boys ran in front of me. Beneath his locks of sandy blond hair, he had two coffee stirrers coming out of his mouth. Apparently, sabertooth tigers were alive and well at The Roasted Bean. I patted him on the head and said, “Cute.”
His mother looked up at me with a big smile. “You sure you don’t want to keep him?”
The thought of having that much energy on the loose around me all day was terrifying. I shook my head, perhaps a little too vigorously. “Mahalo for the offer, but I don’t think I could keep up.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Neither can I.”
The kid behind Alexander slammed the lid of his laptop closed, grabbed the backpack at his feet, and barreled past me with a single-minded intensity. I pulled the little boy out of the way. Dumbfounded, I glanced at the saber-tooth tiger boy’s mother. She stared after the teen, who had bumped into a chair and a customer on his way to the front door.
Thankful to be rid of my burden, I handed Tiger Boy off to his mother. I said, “Talk about rude.”
“That boy’s troubled,” she said.
There was no doubt about that. I nodded while watching the counter. Raylene was still preparing the next batch of coffee, so I excused myself in hopes of gaining more information.
When Raylene saw me, her eyes flickered in recognition. “Do you want to talk to Warren now?”
“If I could. Thanks.”
About a half minute later, she returned from the back room with a redheaded man trailing her. I judged him to be a fraction shorter than me, probably about 5’7”. His ruddy cheeks had me wondering if he could tolerate our island sun for more time than it would take to walk from his car to the front door. “Raylene said you wanted to talk to me.”
It wasn’t the greeting I’d expected, but it did seem consistent with Benni’s description of Warren’s paranoia. I held up my cup. “Sorry to have to say this, but I think your coffee is stale.”
Warren stared at me for a few seconds, then shot a glance ar
ound the room before speaking to Raylene over his shoulder. “You’re making a fresh batch? Give him the first cup. Apologies.” He turned to walk away.
My jaw fell open. Shit, I wanted information, not more of Warren’s jungle juice. “Wait!”
Raylene jumped back. “It’s okay, mister, I know how to make it. No worries.”
I set the cup on the counter, then marched over to Warren, who narrowed his gaze as he watched me approach.
“Who are you?” he barked.
“My name’s McKenna.”
“There was nothing wrong with the coffee, was there?”
“It’s strong, but that’s not the only thing I wanted to talk about.” I let the words hang, but he wasn’t falling for that one. He must have learned about the pregnant pause in one of his conspiracy-theory classes. I added, “Andi is missing.”
He placed both hands on the counter and leaned forward. “Who the hell are you?”
“I already told you. My name’s McKenna and Benni has asked me to find Andi.”
“No. What agency are you with? Under the law, you have to tell me.”
Agency? As in—oh, God, he really did think I was with the feds. Talk about cuckoo. “I’m a friend of Benni’s brother Alexander. Do you know someone named Blueslover? They were supposed to meet here.”
“I don’t have to answer any questions without my attorney. And you still haven’t told me where you’re from.”
Whatever. If that would make him happy. I said, “Honolulu.”
Faster than you could say, “refill please,” Warren was making a beeline for the end of the counter and had his right hand pressed firmly to his ear. Maybe he thought he was listening to communications from the CIA, Hawaii Five-0, or Planet Fruitcake. I had no idea, but his eyes were bulging out as though he’d popped his pin and was ready to explode. He made a U-turn at the end of the counter and stormed back toward me, this time on the customer side. Uh-oh, my side.
I glanced over my shoulder at Alexander. All I got in return was a shoulder shrug. An approaching customer jumped out of the way as Warren, now hyperventilating, zeroed in on his target. Me.
I put up a hand with my arm extended and my fingers splayed. “Stop!”
He kept coming.
Oh crap, I thought. Now what? I started to back away. “Warren? Earth to Warren.”
Apparently that didn’t help because he pressed his hand to his ear again. Whose voice was he listening to?
I glanced over my shoulder. Nobody there. I backed away. Warren picked up the pace. I dodged between tables. Warren followed. Chairs screeched as patrons scrambled to get away from the game of hot pursuit. It was time to hit the eject button, but a family of five blocked the front door.
“Out of my way!” I yelled.
Mom and Dad hung back from their three little monsters, all with peeling sunburns that reminded me of scaly lizards. Talk about panic city. The kids charged right at me. Were they rabid? Warren’s hand grazed my back. I was trapped!
Mom yelled at the kids. “Tommy, Tessie, Tony! Leave that man alone.”
The admonishment from Laid Back Dad came a few seconds later. “Kids, indoor voices please.”
Nothing changed. The monsters swarmed like attacking bees. “Indoor voices?” I yelled. “Are you nuts? I’ve got a crazy man behind me!”
Laid Back Dad shoved a chair out of the way as he rushed forward. “Hey, what’re you doing?” Oh, now, he was getting pissed?
I glanced over my shoulder. Alexander had Warren in a headlock and Warren was kicking furiously. I guess the monsters thought Warren was nutzo. In full retreat now, they surged past me again, this time their little turbo-powered rear ends carrying them to the safety of Mom’s arms.
Laid Back Dad bellowed, “Hey man, you can’t act like that in a public place.” Shit, whose side was he on?
A second later, he said, “Warren?” He did a double take, then glanced at me. Under his breath, he muttered, “Son-of-a-bitch.”
Crazy Warren’s thrashing slowed and he looked at Laid Back Dad sheepishly.
“You know this guy?” I asked.
“Let him go.” The sternness in Laid Back Dad’s order shocked me.
“You gonna be cool, brah?” Alexander hadn’t even broken a sweat, although there was an uncharacteristic edge to his voice.
Laid Back Dad glanced between Warren, Alexander, and me. Maybe he was better at grasping touchy situations than controlling his band of renegades. He put a hand on Warren’s shoulder. “Remember what we talked about, buddy? In your sessions?”
Warren blinked a couple of times, then peered at Laid Back Dad. “Chuck? What happened?” He tried to move, but couldn’t.
What the hell? Laid Back Dad was Warren’s shrink? I couldn’t believe it. Next thing you know we’d all be drawing happy faces on napkins around one of the tables. Crazy Warren, still stuck in the headlock, tried peering at me around Dr. Chuck, who maneuvered sideways to keep his body between the two of us.
The nut doc leaned over to look Warren in the eye. “No, buddy. Look at me. Focus . . . you control your destiny . . . you are in charge . . . there we go.”
I wondered how much Warren was paying this quack. The nut doc had a bad case of male pattern baldness and a boatload of you’re-in-control BS, but he had brought Warren back to reality quickly. I had to give him credit for results.
Dr. Chuck straightened up. “You can let him go, he should be rational now.”
When Alexander looked like he might release Warren, I edged backwards and bumped into Mom and her flock of monsters. Her voice was soothing. “Are you okay? Warren can be intimidating when this happens.”
I turned so I could keep one eye on Warren while I looked to her for guidance. My voice was no more than a whisper. “Maybe you can tell me exactly what just happened.”
“Warren has flashbacks. I can’t really say anything else.”
Since when did doctor-patient privilege extend to wives? If she knew, she should spill the beans. “That was pretty weird.”
“In all the times we’ve been here for coffee, I’ve never seen Warren really flip out. You must have hit his buttons pretty hard.”
“I’m trying to find his daughter.”
“Andi?” she said. “She’ll turn up. She’s wonderful. Too bad his son’s not more like her. He’s antisocial and compulsive.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Warren and Dr. Chuck approaching with Alexander behind them. Warren had his hand extended. “I’m sorry about that. I have moments when I just kinda black out.” His gaze slanted in the doc’s direction. “I’m getting treatment.”
Oh goodie, I thought. That makes chasing me around a coffee shop acceptable behavior? Moron. “It’s okay,” I muttered. No doubt about it, I’m a chicken through and through.
“You said something about Andi being missing?” The muscles in his jaw tensed as he waited for me to respond, but I wasn’t sure where to go with this.
What the hell, I thought. I still had my protector. Two of them, in fact. “She is.” I glanced at Alexander and saw that he was ready to spring into action if necessary. “Some guy named Blueslover was trying to set up a date or a meeting with her here. Do you know anyone who calls himself that?”
Warren shook his head. “I haven’t seen Andi lately. She came in once or twice and talked to Donny. It wasn’t a regular thing.”
“Is Donny around?”
For a moment, I thought Warren might be dropping off the edge of sanity again. He took a deep breath, long and slow, while his eyes defocused. He fingered an amulet hanging around his neck, then seemed to be back in control. He still didn’t answer.
“Where is he? Maybe he knows something.”
“He left. I thought you spooked him. Like you did me.”
I stared at Warren blankly. “I haven’t talked to—him? The kid who went rushing out of here is Donny?”
“Yeah. Something you did must have freaked him out.”
Chuck put his hand on Warre
n’s shoulder again. The little demon Bad McKenna was offering wisecracks in my head. “Uh-oh, whacko alert! Customer dropped a neuron. Cleanup on Aisle 9 in the crazy guy’s head.” Shit, with voices like that in my brain, I probably needed meds, too. Maybe Warren’s shrink could front me a few of those happy pills. Then all three of us could sit around a camp fire tonight and sing Kumbaya.
I tried to recall exactly what had happened in the moments before Donny ran out. The kid had seemed disconnected, completely immersed in something, then had exploded. Just like his dad.
“Benni told us Andi met Donny here. How many times has she been here?”
“I don’t keep track. Maybe twice. What’s your deal with Donny, anyway?” Warren glanced at Chuck. “I think this guy’s trouble, but I don’t want to cause another scene. He’s stressing me out.”
The doc waved his hands in front of me. “You’re asking too many questions, mister.”
“What? One question is too many? Come on, there’s a girl missing. And she was going to meet someone here. Maybe the cops should check into this. I’m thinking there’s a connection.”
Crazy Warren glanced to the right and over my shoulder I spotted Donny walking through the front door. I hadn’t noticed it before, but he was wearing a “Jazz Rocks” T-shirt and had a backpack slung over his shoulder. It didn’t take a genius to know he and I needed to talk. He must have had the same thought because he turned and ran. He was out the door before I could get past the growing menagerie of kids and adults surrounding us.
Outside, a sea of tourists and shopping bags made it impossible to see much of anything. The kid was gone. I should have been suspicious the moment he ran out the first time. Twice. I’d lost him twice. Well, it wouldn’t happen again.
Alexander appeared at my side. “He was quick.”
“He’s sixteen and probably knows this town inside out. There’s no way to follow him.”
“You got that right.” Alexander pulled out his phone.
I winked at him. “You calling who I think you’re calling?”
“Yah. We may not be able to follow him, but we should be able to find his home.” Alexander turned his attention to the phone. “Benni, where’s Warren live?”
Big Island Blues Page 4
