Read Online JoAnn Bassett - Islands of Aloha 07 - Moloka'i Lullaby by JoAnn Bassett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: JoAnn Bassett
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go to the beach out by your swanky wedding place?” said Hatch. “When I was surfing yesterday I ran into a guy who told me Papohaku Beach is over three miles long and three-hundred feet wide. The locals claim it’s the biggest white sand beach in Hawaii.”
“I thought Waikiki was the biggest,” I said.
“Nope. The dude said the Hawaii PR machine likes the tourists to think that, so they can keep them corralled on O’ahu. But he swore this one’s bigger. And it’s no doubt cleaner. Did I ever tell you about what a tourist brought in to the station when I was still with HPD? He claimed he’d found it on Waikiki Beach.”
“I have a hunch it’s gonna be something disgusting.”
“You got that right. It was a finger. A human pinkie finger. Cut cleanly at the first joint. We ran the print but didn’t get a match.”
“ Mahal o for that visual, Hatch.”
“Oh, come on. You’ve seen way worse stuff than that.”
“True.”
As we drove past the verdant green fields of rural Moloka’i under a wide sapphire-blue sky dotted with towering white clouds, it was hard to imagine the pain and misery people inflicted on each other. I’d certainly seen my share. But I felt a sea change coming, and things were looking up. I’d spent quite enough of the past few years immersed in the sticky drama of other people’s lives. It felt good to be finally coming up for air.
CHAPTER 9
One innate talent I’m especially grateful for is my built-in navigation system. Like a human homing pigeon, I can always find my way back to anywhere I’ve been before. I have no idea how I do it. It’s just there, in the back of my head, like a GPS that doesn’t require an external power source.
I deftly made the trip to George Bustamante’s beach house with no false turns, no consulting the map.
“That’s quite a wall,” said Hatch. We’d pulled up and parked on the street outside of the formidable lava rock barricade that kept the public from viewing the jaw-dropping property on the other side.
“Wait ‘til you see the rest of the place,” I said.
We walked through the opening in the wall and I shouted for Lono, hoping to avoid another scene with the machete.
He didn’t answer.
“Let’s try the house,” I said. We went up to the double doors and I knocked. Again, no answer.
From the landing outside the front entrance, the view of the ocean was as good as it gets. The blue-black water sparkled as if thousands of brilliant-cut diamonds had been tossed across its velvet surface; and above, the clear blue sky remained unmarred by even a single cloud or stray jet contrail.
“Is that O’ahu?” said Hatch, pointing to a low dark form at the far end of the horizon.
“I think so. We’re facing west, so that would be the next island over.”
After knocking again and still failing to raise anyone inside, we began to make our way back down to the sidewalk. Suddenly, the front door flew open and a florid-faced older man stepped out onto the landing.
“Who goes there?” he boomed. His face was haloed by a mane of yellowish, limp gray hair with lengthy strands that nearly brushed his shoulders. His hands were gnarled into fists.
I stepped up and offered my hand. “ Aloha ,” I said. “My name is Pali Moon. I’m the wedding planner Richard and Amanda hired to do their wedding.”
He didn’t shake my hand, which was okay with me as I wasn’t sure if he was able to unclench his fists.
“Ha!” he barked. “Bad idea, that one.”
I wasn’t exactly sure if he was referring to them hiring me, or the marriage in general, so I didn’t let on.
“May we take a look inside the house?” I said. “I’d like to get an idea of how we’ll set up for the different venues—you know, the ceremony, the dinner, and so on.”
“I told them they had to keep it outside,” he said. “No one allowed in my house.”
“Oh. But we’ll need access to the kitchen,” I said.
“There are full
“I thought Waikiki was the biggest,” I said.
“Nope. The dude said the Hawaii PR machine likes the tourists to think that, so they can keep them corralled on O’ahu. But he swore this one’s bigger. And it’s no doubt cleaner. Did I ever tell you about what a tourist brought in to the station when I was still with HPD? He claimed he’d found it on Waikiki Beach.”
“I have a hunch it’s gonna be something disgusting.”
“You got that right. It was a finger. A human pinkie finger. Cut cleanly at the first joint. We ran the print but didn’t get a match.”
“ Mahal o for that visual, Hatch.”
“Oh, come on. You’ve seen way worse stuff than that.”
“True.”
As we drove past the verdant green fields of rural Moloka’i under a wide sapphire-blue sky dotted with towering white clouds, it was hard to imagine the pain and misery people inflicted on each other. I’d certainly seen my share. But I felt a sea change coming, and things were looking up. I’d spent quite enough of the past few years immersed in the sticky drama of other people’s lives. It felt good to be finally coming up for air.
CHAPTER 9
One innate talent I’m especially grateful for is my built-in navigation system. Like a human homing pigeon, I can always find my way back to anywhere I’ve been before. I have no idea how I do it. It’s just there, in the back of my head, like a GPS that doesn’t require an external power source.
I deftly made the trip to George Bustamante’s beach house with no false turns, no consulting the map.
“That’s quite a wall,” said Hatch. We’d pulled up and parked on the street outside of the formidable lava rock barricade that kept the public from viewing the jaw-dropping property on the other side.
“Wait ‘til you see the rest of the place,” I said.
We walked through the opening in the wall and I shouted for Lono, hoping to avoid another scene with the machete.
He didn’t answer.
“Let’s try the house,” I said. We went up to the double doors and I knocked. Again, no answer.
From the landing outside the front entrance, the view of the ocean was as good as it gets. The blue-black water sparkled as if thousands of brilliant-cut diamonds had been tossed across its velvet surface; and above, the clear blue sky remained unmarred by even a single cloud or stray jet contrail.
“Is that O’ahu?” said Hatch, pointing to a low dark form at the far end of the horizon.
“I think so. We’re facing west, so that would be the next island over.”
After knocking again and still failing to raise anyone inside, we began to make our way back down to the sidewalk. Suddenly, the front door flew open and a florid-faced older man stepped out onto the landing.
“Who goes there?” he boomed. His face was haloed by a mane of yellowish, limp gray hair with lengthy strands that nearly brushed his shoulders. His hands were gnarled into fists.
I stepped up and offered my hand. “ Aloha ,” I said. “My name is Pali Moon. I’m the wedding planner Richard and Amanda hired to do their wedding.”
He didn’t shake my hand, which was okay with me as I wasn’t sure if he was able to unclench his fists.
“Ha!” he barked. “Bad idea, that one.”
I wasn’t exactly sure if he was referring to them hiring me, or the marriage in general, so I didn’t let on.
“May we take a look inside the house?” I said. “I’d like to get an idea of how we’ll set up for the different venues—you know, the ceremony, the dinner, and so on.”
“I told them they had to keep it outside,” he said. “No one allowed in my house.”
“Oh. But we’ll need access to the kitchen,” I said.
“There are full
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