that had shown up on her desk that morning.
She put her head back against Pono’s sheepskin-covered seat, surprisingly comfortable even in hot Hawaii. A tiny imitation Hawaiian war helmet decked with red and yellow feathers dangled from the mirror, and Pono’s gearshift was a chrome skull. Riding in Pono’s truck was always interesting.
“How are we going to do good work with so many cases? That’s not to mention the ones we had before these new ones started piling on.” Lei unscrewed a water bottle and sipped.
“Well, at least the cruise ship one isn’t a homicide.”
“We don’t know that. What if Clara found out Robert ripped her off, and she pushed him overboard? Ships are a great place for a homicide, actually. I’m surprised we haven’t had more cases involving the cruise lines.”
“That’s you, Sweets, always seeing more than the obvious. Why don’t you look up Wylie Construction, see what you can find out?” Pono had a line between his brows. Lei extracted the Toughbook from its stowage under the glove box, unfolded the retractable arm, and punched up the company. It was time to focus on the task at hand.
Wylie Construction was a big operation, according to their website. They were at the forefront of “gracious, custom, green living” on Maui, and planning a new self-contained community in West Maui, “where everything you need for life and living is in one piece of paradise.”
Lei snorted. “Sounds like a petri dish,” she muttered.
Pono glanced over. “What’s that around your neck?”
“Oh.” Lei reached up to touch the ring. It was surprisingly bulky and refused to stay tucked into the neck of her shirt. “Just a gift.”
“Uh-huh. It’s a diamond ring.”
“Yeah. So?”
“Looks like Stevens made his move.” Pono shook his head.
“What do you mean?”
“Gotta give the guy points for trying.”
“Hey, what if I want to get married? We’re good together.”
“Then why isn’t the ring on your finger?”
He had her there.
“None of your business.” Distraction was called for. “Says John Wylie came to Maui ten years ago with a vision to bring ‘gracious, affordable, green construction’ to the island. Nothing about him being married. I’m trolling through some Google articles—he appears to be a bit of a player. Lots of different women on his arm. Charity events, things like that. Seems involved with the arts.”
Wylie looked like a typical middle-aged transplant haole : thinning blond hair brushed to look fuller over a weathered ruddy complexion, rugged build. “Look at this one—‘Millionaire Developer John Wylie brings Gallery Owner to Opening Night of the Maui Film Festival.’ Seems like a real high maka-maka type.” Lei used the pidgin expression for society. She swiveled the screen so Pono could glance at the photo of a striking blue-eyed, black-haired woman on Wylie’s arm.
They drove into the outskirts of Lahaina, the “blazing sun” the town was named for already high and hot, the ocean a glittering blue plate glass off to the left. Pono pulled into the Wylie Construction offices in a handsome strip mall off the main shopping area of Front Street. Lei took a minute to put on some lip gloss, straighten her rumpled jacket, and fluff her hair, which had seen more cooperative days. Too long to be short and too short to pull back, her curls were really driving her crazy.
“Enough with the fussing,” Pono said, hopping out of the cab. Lei gave one last pat to her hair, to no visible effect. The detectives walked into a beautifully appointed reception area.
Wylie Construction’s stylized logo hung over the glossy desk of a decorative receptionist. Original oils and sculptures stood out from neutral gray watered-silk walls with skillful lighting.
“We’re here to see John Wylie.” Lei and Pono held up their badges. The receptionist inspected them carefully, looking flustered, and picked up the interoffice phone. Apparently the great
She put her head back against Pono’s sheepskin-covered seat, surprisingly comfortable even in hot Hawaii. A tiny imitation Hawaiian war helmet decked with red and yellow feathers dangled from the mirror, and Pono’s gearshift was a chrome skull. Riding in Pono’s truck was always interesting.
“How are we going to do good work with so many cases? That’s not to mention the ones we had before these new ones started piling on.” Lei unscrewed a water bottle and sipped.
“Well, at least the cruise ship one isn’t a homicide.”
“We don’t know that. What if Clara found out Robert ripped her off, and she pushed him overboard? Ships are a great place for a homicide, actually. I’m surprised we haven’t had more cases involving the cruise lines.”
“That’s you, Sweets, always seeing more than the obvious. Why don’t you look up Wylie Construction, see what you can find out?” Pono had a line between his brows. Lei extracted the Toughbook from its stowage under the glove box, unfolded the retractable arm, and punched up the company. It was time to focus on the task at hand.
Wylie Construction was a big operation, according to their website. They were at the forefront of “gracious, custom, green living” on Maui, and planning a new self-contained community in West Maui, “where everything you need for life and living is in one piece of paradise.”
Lei snorted. “Sounds like a petri dish,” she muttered.
Pono glanced over. “What’s that around your neck?”
“Oh.” Lei reached up to touch the ring. It was surprisingly bulky and refused to stay tucked into the neck of her shirt. “Just a gift.”
“Uh-huh. It’s a diamond ring.”
“Yeah. So?”
“Looks like Stevens made his move.” Pono shook his head.
“What do you mean?”
“Gotta give the guy points for trying.”
“Hey, what if I want to get married? We’re good together.”
“Then why isn’t the ring on your finger?”
He had her there.
“None of your business.” Distraction was called for. “Says John Wylie came to Maui ten years ago with a vision to bring ‘gracious, affordable, green construction’ to the island. Nothing about him being married. I’m trolling through some Google articles—he appears to be a bit of a player. Lots of different women on his arm. Charity events, things like that. Seems involved with the arts.”
Wylie looked like a typical middle-aged transplant haole : thinning blond hair brushed to look fuller over a weathered ruddy complexion, rugged build. “Look at this one—‘Millionaire Developer John Wylie brings Gallery Owner to Opening Night of the Maui Film Festival.’ Seems like a real high maka-maka type.” Lei used the pidgin expression for society. She swiveled the screen so Pono could glance at the photo of a striking blue-eyed, black-haired woman on Wylie’s arm.
They drove into the outskirts of Lahaina, the “blazing sun” the town was named for already high and hot, the ocean a glittering blue plate glass off to the left. Pono pulled into the Wylie Construction offices in a handsome strip mall off the main shopping area of Front Street. Lei took a minute to put on some lip gloss, straighten her rumpled jacket, and fluff her hair, which had seen more cooperative days. Too long to be short and too short to pull back, her curls were really driving her crazy.
“Enough with the fussing,” Pono said, hopping out of the cab. Lei gave one last pat to her hair, to no visible effect. The detectives walked into a beautifully appointed reception area.
Wylie Construction’s stylized logo hung over the glossy desk of a decorative receptionist. Original oils and sculptures stood out from neutral gray watered-silk walls with skillful lighting.
“We’re here to see John Wylie.” Lei and Pono held up their badges. The receptionist inspected them carefully, looking flustered, and picked up the interoffice phone. Apparently the great
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