O'ahu Lonesome Tonight? (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series #5) (11 page)

I never
answered Stu’s question about lunch. I prayed Jeff would show up before Stu
remembered to ask me again.

CHAPTER 13

The white Ford
Focus came into view. Steve was driving.

“Where’s Jeff?”
I said as I slid into the passenger seat.

“He’s on the
phone with some people from his work. From what I could hear, he didn’t sound
very happy.”

I buckled up.

 “So,” he
went on, “Did you enjoy dinner with your brother and sister-in-law?”

“It was fine.
But I’ve reached my family fun limit.”

“I
gotta
hand it to you,
Pali
. After
all the weirdness with your father, you’re a trooper to spend time with these
people. Jeff said your brother Stuart’s a real jerk.”

“Well, Stu may
be a jerk, but the wife’s even worse.”

“How worse?”
I looked over and Steve was grinning. Nobody
loved snarky talk more than Steve.

“I don’t even
know where to begin.” I said. “Well, actually, I do. Get this: she’s got her
own
sister
working as her personal maid. She even makes her wear a black
uniform.
With a tidy little apron.”
 

“OMG.
A French maid get-up?
Did she
have the little white cap? Because, you know, it’s the little white
chapeau
that makes that outfit sing.”

I glared but he
kept his eyes on the road.

“But on the
other hand,” he went on, “maybe the maid thing was just for your benefit. Jeff
said when he met your brother he was slathering on the Mr. Big attitude real
thick.”

“True. But
compared to her he’s a rank amateur.”

“Is she a
local?”

“I don’t think
so. She looks Asian, but she’s got a bit of a British accent. But it could be
fake
. Maybe she’s like Madonna—you know, born and raised in
Michigan but now trying to pass herself off as a London socialite.”

“Is she
pretty?”

“I guess so.
She’s so annoying it’s hard for me see past that. But I’m sure most men would
find her attractive.”

“Maybe she’s
from Hong Kong. I knew a guy from there. To hear him talk, Hong Kong’s the
tippy-top of the social food chain. And they’d rather give up a kidney than let
go of their English accent. It was a dark day when the mainland Chinese came
marching into Hong Kong Harbor.”

“Can you
march
into a harbor?” I said. “Wouldn’t you have to sail in?”

“You know what
I mean. When the Communist Chinese took over, lots of the Hong Kong elite
grabbed their money and ran.”

  Natalie’s
origins weren’t something I wished to discuss further. She was only related to
me by marriage. At most, I’d have to see her once or twice a year at family
gatherings.

“So,” I said.
“What happened to you today? I was beside myself with worry.”

“I thought
you’d never ask,” he said. “I got to the North Shore and the waves were
enormous.
Twenty, maybe thirty feet high.
I got to
talking with a couple of guys and they offered to loan me a board. On my first
ride in I wiped out so hard I got a bloody nose. But after a few tries, I
caught a monster and rode it all the way to shore. So, having proved my
manhood, I decided to call it a day.

“Meanwhile,
lifeguards were pulling people out left and right. Most of the brine-suckers
were surfer wannabes like me. That’s why I quit after one good ride. No sense
making a spectacle of myself.

“Anyhow, the
two guys I’d borrowed the board from had parked way on the other end of the
beach. I offered to help them haul their boards back and we started walking.
When we were pretty far down the beach I thought I saw someone way out. It
looked like he was waving. I pointed it out to the guys and they said that
whole area is one big rip current. I don’t know why, but next thing I knew I
was on a board heading out to get the guy.”

“You rescued
someone?” I said.

“Let’s just say
it totally freaked me to think I might see someone drown. I had to do
something.”

“You’re a
hero.”

“Nah.
I’m a good swimmer and I had a board. Anyhow, when we
got back to shore the paramedics showed up and we drew quite a crowd. The
lifeguards acted weird about it. They gave me beef about going out instead of
waiting for them, but they caved when the EMT’s said the dude was so done in he
probably wouldn’t have lasted more than a few more minutes.”

“Maybe you’ll
make the news,” I said.

“Who knows?
Like I said, there was a lot going on.”

I turned on the
TV as soon as we got back to the apartment. The news wasn’t on yet, but during
commercial break a promo said, “Three visitors were taken to local area
hospitals after near-drowning incidents on the North Shore.
Film
at eleven.”

“You rescued
three
people?” I said.

“Nah.
Just one.
The lifeguards
pulled out the other two.”

When the news
came on, Steve’s rescue was the lead story. He credited his new friends with
assisting him in pulling the victim from the shore surf. “I was totally wiped
by the time we got about thirty feet from shore,” he said. He stared into the
camera with his ‘just doing what any other red-blooded American would do’ eyes.
“Without these guys helping me, the outcome might’ve been different.”

Two burly blond
guys who could’ve modeled Quicksilver beach gear shot
shaka
signs and beamed. “Steve’s the one who took the big chance,” said one.

The other chimed in. “Yeah.
This dude’s a
freakin
’ hero.”

The next story
was about the continuing flow of raw sewage into the
Ala
Wai
Canal. A young female reporter was standing on
the bridge on
Ala
Wai
Boulevard. “This is
Cindi
Takeda reporting from
Waikiki. Millions of gallons of untreated sewage have been diverted into the
Ala
Wai
Canal since Sunday.
Millions more will be dumped over the next few days while crews attempt to
repair the break in the main sewer line.”  

The story
shifted to a shot of a press conference. The mayor of Honolulu stood at a
podium behind a forest of microphones. “We’re doing our best to remedy this
situation as quickly as possible,” he said. “The continuing rainfall has
overwhelmed the pumps and burst the pipes. This won’t be an easy fix, but we
are working night and day to get things back to normal. In the meantime, be
assured we are monitoring the situation and we see no immediate danger to the
citizens of Honolulu.”

“I’m glad
Farrah and Ono moved out of the marina,” I said.

“I was just going
to ask if you’d heard from them,” said Steve.

It went to
commercial and Jeff snapped off the TV. “You know, Steve, I’ve been thinking,”
he said. “You should tell
Go Hawaii
they need to sweeten their offer.”

Steve shot him
a confused look.

“The
hero bump
. Think about it. They’re about to hire the dude
who pulled a tourist from the jaws of death.
Gotta
be worth a little extra coin
for those bragging rights.”

“I agree,” I
said. “And, since you’re the hero, you get to sleep in a bed tonight. 
I’ll sleep out here on the sofa.”

 “
Mahalo
, but I’m good with the sofa. I’m kind of
wound up,” said Steve. “I think I’ll go downstairs and grab a quick beer
someplace.”

“You hoping to
get recognized?” said Jeff.

“Hey, it’s my
fifteen minutes of fame. I’m not going to waste it sleeping.”

***

The next
morning I wandered out to the kitchen for coffee. Jeff was already sitting at
the table. No sign of Steve.

“Did Steve come
in last night?” I said.

“I guess so. He
left a note.” Jeff handed me a take-out menu with scribbled writing on the
back.

Getting cab to airport.
Got a
shoot this p.m.
Thanx
for everything.
Steve.

“Looks like our
hero has left the building,” said Jeff.

Outside, the
rain was coming down in buckets. Jeff looked out and shook his head. “You know
if I wanted to hang out in weather like this I’d have invited you to come to
San Francisco. At least there we’ve got great sourdough bread.”

“So what?
Over here you can get fresh malasadas and Hawaiian
sweet bread.”

“And we’ve got
tons of local wine, and fresh crab, and Ghirardelli chocolate, and…need I go
on?”

“Okay, so
California’s a great place to eat. But do they have
loco
moco
?”

“Wow, I haven’t
thought about that in years. Do you think we can find some?”

We went
downstairs and asked the local guy manning the valet stand if there was a
loco
moco
joint anywhere near.

“They all over.
Best one’s about three blocks
mauka
.
Past
Kuhio
.
I think the name’s ‘Bubba’s’ or ‘
Bruddah’s
’. Like
that.”

 We walked
up
Lewers
to a place called ‘Buster’s Broiler.’ It
looked like the kind of place where mothers wipe the silverware with a paper
napkin before letting their kids use it. We sat at a sticky table near the
front and both ordered
loco
moco
and coffee.

“You want hot sauce
with that?” said the waitress. I thought she meant hot sauce in our coffee, but
Jeff figured it out quickly and nodded. She brought over a carrier with crusty
half-filled bottles of ketchup,
Cholla
hot sauce and
Tabasco.

Although
loco
moco
is an island favorite, everybody makes it
their own way. It’s usually some combination of rice, ground beef, fried eggs
and gravy. But it’s amazing how many variations you can get with those four
ingredients. This version had a mound of white rice layered with a well-done
hamburger patty and two over-easy fried eggs on top. The whole thing was
smothered in thick white gravy with sausage bits in it. No doubt ‘loco
moco
’ is the Hawaiian term for ‘heart attack on a plate,’
but it tastes great.

“Wonder how
much cholesterol is in this?” said Jeff, as if reading my mind.

“You really
want to know?”

“Probably not.”

“You can’t get
a breakfast like this in San Francisco,” I said.

“Yeah.
Maybe that’s why people live longer there.”

“Is that true?”
I said.

“Nah, actually
Hawaii tops the list for life expectancy,” he said. “Maybe someday
archeologists will find the long-lost fountain of youth and it will be spewing
sausage gravy.”

“Maybe we live
longer because we don’t stress. We live
aloha
.”

“That’s
probably more like it.” He put down his fork. “Speaking of stress, I’m afraid I
have to leave today.”

“Today?
But it’s only Wednesday. You told me you’d be here
‘til Friday.”

“I know. And
I’m sorry. But I talked to some people last night. The lab’s in an uproar.”

“After only two
days?”

“We run 24/7 so
technically it’s been four days. Seems the gal I left in charge screwed up some
parameters and the readings are off the charts. I’ve got to get back there and
straighten it out.”

I stared down
at the wreckage of my
moco
loco
but
couldn’t eat another bite. Jeff reached across the table and put a hand on
mine.

“I’m really
sorry,” he said. “I put off making this decision as long as I could.”

“Okay. But I’m
not buying your lab story. I bet you’ve been watching that stupid ‘doggie cam’
and you’re feeling guilty about leaving Jack in the kennel.”

Jeff smiled. “I
wish that was it. For sure Jack’s
gonna
be doing the
happy dance when he sees me. But seriously, it looks like my last six months of
work is about to go down the crapper. I need to get back and see if I can
salvage any of it.”

We walked back
to the penthouse and while Jeff packed I went online and found him a seat on
the afternoon flight.

“It’s
gonna
cost you two hundred bucks to change,” I said.

“A small price to pay for half-a-year’s work.”

“You sure
there’s no one you can call to get those parameters, or whatever they’re
called, fixed?”

“Nope.
And I can’t blame Sheila. I put her in charge but I
didn’t give her enough information to make adjustments if something like this
came up.”

“You kept her
in the dark? Why?”

“The work is
way beyond top-secret. Point of fact: I didn’t trust her.”

“Let me see if
I’ve got this right: you didn’t trust your co-worker with the details of your
project, but you trust Honolulu taxi drivers, the TSA, and the airlines to get
you safely from here to there?”

“Getting me
home safe isn’t my job. My job is my job.”

“Spoken like a
true-blue federal contractor.”

Jeff asked me
if I’d mind driving him out to the airport. “If I can avoid Honolulu taxi
drivers, that
takes it down to two out of three. Better
odds. You want to keep the car until you leave, though, right?”

“No, I think
I’ll turn it in. I only need it to get out to the airport on Friday and I can
catch a shuttle for that.”

I took him to
the airport and as we hugged good-by we both promised to call more often. I
dropped the car at the rental place and took a hotel shuttle back to Waikiki.

I figured I’d
enjoy a few days of blissful solitude before I getting back to work. Premium
cable movies, ‘plate lunch’ dinners from the Steak Shack, and maybe even a
couple of long hot baths in the penthouse’s two-person marble tub. I’d miss
Jeff, but I was going to do my best to enjoy my time off.