I'm Kona Love You Forever (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series Book 6) (18 page)

I wanted to
mumble “
since when?”
but I stifled my pique.

Loke invited us to the house for coffee. I had almost two hours before I had to leave for the airport to pick up Hatch
, so I agreed.

Ray
Vick was in the kitchen when we walked in. He was about my height, with intense dark eyes. His skin was the color of old pennies, and his black hair was pulled back into a stubby ponytail. “Naturally Kona” was embroidered above the breast pocket of his khaki shirt, and his jeans were held up by a length of hemp rope knotted above the fly. To me, he looked like the quintessential “man of the earth.” A textbook example of a long-time Kona coffee farmer.

“Welcome to our home,” he said in a soft voice. He glanced over at his wife as if checking for signs of distress. She was still smiling
, but her eyes darted from Lili to Ray as if trying to send him a signal.

“
How lucky for me to get another cup of your coffee before I have to leave,” I said trying to cut through the tension that hung in the air like thick morning fog. “It’s wonderful. Very full-bodied flavor without even a hint of bitterness.” I sounded like an ersatz sommelier describing the wine-of-the-month at Outback Steakhouse.

Everyone shot me a pitying look.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m afraid I’m not good at small talk.”

“Relax, Pali,”
Ray said. “I know we’re all a little on edge. But Lili is very welcome here, and Loke and I are both looking forward to her visit. We only wish it were under more pleasant circumstances.”

“I heard Malia took her own life,” said Loke. “It’s tragic for her family. But I’d also heard she had a lot of health problems. Sometimes it’s just too much to bear.”

“I hope the autopsy comes back soon,” I said. “There are some people who think the circumstances look suspicious.”

“David
, for one,” said Lili. “He said his mother would never do something like that.”

“It’s always hard to imagine a loved one in so much pain,” said Loke.

“It’s not that,” said Lili. “David said his mother was actually doing better lately. His sisters told him the Parks Department might be naming a park for her.”

Now it was Lili’s turn to get the pitying look.

“No, seriously,” Lili said. “He said there was supposed to be a blessing this Saturday and his mom was going to cut the ribbon and maybe even make a speech.”

Loke busied herself with getting coffee cups down while
Ray fussed with grinding the beans. I offered to help Lili unload her stuff from the car and get settled into the cottage.

“Do you know who found David’s mom on Monday?” I said. We were making our way to
the first of three guest houses on the property. This one was painted pale blue with white trim around the windows and a white Dutch door. Above the door was a sign that read, “Cloud Cottage.”

“Why’s the door cut in half?” Lili said as we went inside.

“It’s called a Dutch door.” I unlatched the top from the bottom and pulled the top half open. “See? It’s both a window and a door.”

“Cool.”

We both took in the one-room cottage. It had a queen-sized bed made up with a fluffy blue comforter with appliqued white clouds, a tiny bathroom with sink, toilet and corner tiled shower, and a two-person wooden table with chairs sized to fit a six-year-old.

“Really cute,” I said. I could only imagine what Hatch would think of a place like that. He’d probably
call it a kiddy doll-house and ask to be moved to adult quarters, but it was perfect for Lili.

“I wish I could stay here forever,” said Lili. She fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Maybe the birth certificate was right and the death certificate was wrong. Maybe Loke and
Ray are my real parents, after all.”

“Your ‘real’ parents are the people who raised you,” I said.

She snorted an edgy laugh. “Sure. But remember? My mom kicked me out when I got engaged to David. Maybe she’s decided to stop being my mom.”

“I don’t think that’s an option,” I said.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. That’s why David said he’s sure his mom didn’t kill herself. He said no matter how bad things got, she’d never leave him and his sisters. Never.”

CHAPTER 20

I bid my farewells and drove out to the Kona Airport to pick up Hatch. It irked me a little he’d refused to tell me what he’d forgotten. I could’ve located it for him and been home a day sooner. It wasn’t like Hatch to be secretive with me, but ever since he’d gone off to wildland fire training in Montana last year I’d seen a change in him. He’d become quieter, moodier, and less enthusiastic about the perks of island life. It seemed as if he was itching to trade surfing and perfect weather for skiing and twenty-below. For me, any talk of a move to the mainland was a deal breaker. For Hatch, the push-pull of go or don’t go seemed to be taking a toll.

I
entered the open-air airport. There wasn’t much of a waiting area since the bulk of the tiny airport was beyond the security screening, but it was already after two o’clock so I wouldn’t need to wait long.

Fifteen
minutes later, Hatch appeared. He carried a tiny duffle bag and looked deep in thought. He walked right past me, making me hustle alongside him to get his attention. I touched his arm.

“
Are you okay?” I said.

“Uh, yeah.
Sorry. I thought you’d be waiting out by the curb.”

I p
ointed to the miniscule duffle bag. It was barely bigger than my purse. “Have you got more luggage?”

“I’m a firefighter. I
prepare for the worst, and only take what I can carry.”

I laughed. “So ‘the worst’ involves spending the night with me?”

He scowled. Then he took me in his arms and kissed me. It was one of those “first base” kisses that seemed destined to quickly head for second, but I pulled back.

“Whoa, you want to get
us busted for bringing fireworks to an airport?” I said.

He scowled
deeper. “What are you talking about?” Seems his touchiness was on full alert.

“Nothing.
It was a compliment.”

“
Ah. Well, I don’t care. I missed you.”

“What’s this thing you forgot?”

“You’ll see. It’s a secret.”

I blew out a breath. Why
is it most of my good friends—Farrah, Hatch, and Ono, to name a few—think I like surprises? I hate them. In fact, I’m not even fond of good surprises. Some people take great pleasure in things like surprise birthday parties or financial windfalls, but for me, being knowingly kept in the dark is maddening.

We walked back to the car in silence. It didn’t seem to bother Hatch, nor did he seem to
realize I was irritated.

I went
around to the driver’s side and Hatch spoke up. “I’ll drive.”

“The car’s in my name,” I said.

“This sure looks like the same car we had last weekend. It was, if you’ll remember, signed out to me.”

“
You win.” I threw him the keys. At that point I wished I’d told him to handle his own forgotten item and I’d gone home to Maui as planned.

As if he’d finally
picked up on my pique, he said, “Look, I appreciate you coming out and getting me like this,” he said. “And I’m not trying to rile you up. I just need to do what I came for in my own way.”

I slid into the passenger seat and buckled up.

Ten minutes later we were turning off the highway at Palani Road.

“This isn’t the way to the bed and breakfast,” I said.

“I know.”

“Isn’t that where you would’ve lost something? Or was it somewhere else?”

“I didn’t say I lost anything,” he said. “I said I
forgot
something.” A beat passed and he said, “Are you hungry? I’m starving. Let’s find a place to have lunch.”

We parked in a lot
off of Kuakini and then spent ten minutes looking for a way to get back down to Ali’i Drive where all the restaurants were.

“This place is nuts,” said Hatch. “Why do they make it so hard to find a way through here?”

From what I’d seen, the town of Kailua-Kona was a hodge-podge of old and new buildings cobbled together in a fashion that defied logic. Unlike Lahaina, this little seaside town seemed as if it thumbed its nose at commerce. Just
try
to park near a locally-owned store or restaurant you want to visit. If you want to shop at WalMart or eat at McDonald’s there’s no problem. But if you want to shop or eat local, the place will make you work hard to part with your money.

Finally
, we were seated at a beach-themed restaurant a few steps up from street level. The elevated seating allowed diners to see over the low sea wall along Ali’i Drive and gave the place a respite from the noise and exhaust of the traffic below.

We ordered sandwiches and iced tea. Hatch seemed in no hurry to accomplish what he’d come for and even I
had started to “mellow out” as Farrah would put it.

“Why won’t you tell me what this is about?” I said. I tried going for a playful tone, but it still came out whiny.

“It’s not something I want you to worry about,” he said. “Trust me, everything’s fine. And, like I said before, I appreciate you being a good sport about it.”

I hadn’t been a good sport. In fact, I’d been a lousy sport.

We finished lunch and retraced the path to our car. Hatch drove a couple of blocks and pulled into the King Kamehameha Hotel and parked under the portico.

“
How could you forget something here?” I said. “We didn’t even go here.”

“Correction—you didn’t go here. I came here while you were
at the coffee farm on Saturday. This place has got a great little sandy beach out back.”

“You forgot something at the beach?”

“Could you give me a minute?” Hatch said. “I need to check in at the desk.”

I wandered
past the reception area into a spacious room filled with high-quality paintings and glass cases holding Hawaiian artifacts. The entire collection appeared to be a shrine devoted to King Kamehameha. There was an impressive mural showing Kamehameha wearing nothing but a
kapa
wrap flung across his shoulder like Gandhi. He seemed to be talking to a younger man wearing the fancy yellow and red feather cape of a Hawaiian chief, probably his son or brother. To the left was a tranquil scene of ancient daily life—a woman sitting on the ground in front of a grass house and three other women clustered nearby. Since Kamehameha was known to have multiple wives, I figured this was some sort of “family portrait” and the placement of each of the women probably held some significance in the pecking order.

I moved on to the other items on display. There were at least a dozen portraits of Hawaiian royalty, including Queen Ka’ahumanu, who I remembered as the plucky wife of Kamehameha who’d dared to pick a fight with him and had to flee to the
pu’uhonua
. At one end of the room a brilliant yellow and red
ahu’ula
, or feather cape,
was on display. I was stunned to see it appeared to be made of real bird feathers, unlike the faux fringe model on display at my high school. In ancient times, subjects of the king often paid their tributes, or taxes, in bird feathers. The yellow and red ones were considered the most valuable. The king wore a full-length cape of yellow and red feathers at ceremonial occasions or into battle. I figured it could go two ways. The bright colors would identify him to his own warriors to make sure they didn’t spear him by mistake. But they’d also alert the enemy of who the top dog was and give them a pretty conspicuous target if they were looking to end the battle quickly.

A
lei nio palaoa
was also on display. This is a pendant necklace made from the tooth of a sperm whale. The tooth is strung from a thick black rope of woven human hair. There’s no known history of whale hunting by ancient Hawaiians, so the theory is they got whale teeth only if a whale became beached. The beached whale became the property of the king. At the far end, near the exit doors, was a full-sized dug-out canoe like the ones we’d seen at the
pu’uhonua
.

I meandered through the exhibits wondering who owned all this stuff
. Most of it was museum-quality, and the presentation was first class. It seemed strange that this impressive, and no doubt priceless, collection was housed in the lobby of a hotel. People staying at the hotel passed by on their way to the parking lot or the pool, seemingly oblivious to the treasure trove in their midst.

After
a few minutes, Hatch reappeared.

“Pretty cool stuff,” he said. “Did you see the
feather cape?”

“How could I miss it?”

“Yeah, when I came here before I couldn’t believe all this great stuff was here. But come outside. It gets even better.”

He led me
down a long sidewalk leading to a sandy beach. About a dozen outrigger canoes were parked parallel to each other along the shoreline, with small groups of people milling about as if getting ready to launch them.