Read Online Maui Widow Waltz (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) by JoAnn Bassett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: JoAnn Bassett
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Selling out to
an ‘okole like Tank would be like dancing on their graves. They ran this
store as a gesture of peace and love to the local people here. They didn’t care
about the kala .”
“Didn’t care? Twenty years ago they
sold this building because of the money,” I said.
She pressed her lips into a tight
frown.
I went on. “And two hundred grand
is some serious dough. You’d never sweat money again with that kind of stash.”
“But this isn’t just my work, it’s
my home.” She glanced up, indicating her tiny apartment above the store.
“Maybe Tank will still let you live
up there. Pay him rent or something.”
“No, the offer is to get out. Pau .”
Something red caught my eye and I
looked down. Farrah had pushed the blade of the paring knife into her palm.
Three or four dark red drops had fallen to the floor.
“Eh, that hurts,” she said.
She dropped the bloody knife on a display of neatly stacked head lettuce and
pressed her thumb into the cut. Blood from the knife seeped across a lettuce
head making it look like it’d taken a bullet.
“He offered to buy me out of ‘Let’s
Get Maui’d’ too,” I said.
“Really? How much?”
“Five grand.”
“What? That’s a freakin’ insult.”
“Yeah, but it’s pretty obvious
Tank’s way more interested in groceries than girls. He’ll probably just farm
out the wedding business. Besides, like you said, you’ve got inventory—and a
huge customer base.”
“So,” said Farrah, “what did Noni
mean about Tank making a bid on your house? I didn’t know it was for sale.”
“It isn’t. It’s in foreclosure. I’m
behind on the payments.”
She opened her palm. Blood oozed
from the cut. I pulled a clean white tissue from my beach bag and held it out
to her. It looked like a limp surrender flag. She grabbed it and dabbed at the
blood.
I went on, “I’m not going to sweat
losing my house, though, because by the end of next week I’ll be paying off my
bills and almost caught up on my mortgage. I’m planning to tell that fatso, tanks
but no tanks .”
“Sounds good. But I’m not sure what
I should do. I hate the idea of caving to that slimy pololia but what
can I do? I need to go upstairs and consult my sources.”
Farrah relied heavily on her
Ouija board, tarot cards, and rune stones to manage her day-to-day life. Her
apartment resembled a gypsy fortune teller’s wagon with walls festooned in
decades-old tie-dye, crystal prisms dangling in the windows, and every
available flat surface cluttered with mystical trinkets. Although she was an
ordained minister of the Church of Spirit and Light—an ultra-liberal Christian
sect—her personal belief system leaned much more toward the paranormal.
I gave her a hug and went over to
my shop. Before I had a chance to switch on the lights I saw the answering
machine blinking a cheerful staccato. The read-out showed three messages. Was
it too much to hope at least one of them was good news?
“Pali, I hate to bug you, but
I’m gonna need some deposit money before I start printing these wedding
announcements. Get back to me, okay?”
“Hi Pali. Keahou here. I usually
get full payment before I make a cake, but since you’re my good girl bringing
me this business , I’ll let you just give me half. When can you get that to
me?”
“This is Akiko. I forgot to tell
you I’m ready for the first fitting. Tell your bride we need to do it quick.
Oh, and can you pay me some money? The fabric cost over two hundred dollars.”
I punched in Lisa Marie’s cell
phone number.
“Now what?” she snapped. “I told
you not to bother me.”
I refused to rise to the bait.
“You’ll be happy to hear Akiko is ready for the first fitting of your gown.”
“Why do I need a fitting? That
stupid little woman already measured every inch of me. It was way embarrassing.
I bet she wouldn’t stick a tape measure up Paris Hilton’s crotch. ”
“It’s up to you, Lisa Marie. It’s
true Akiko
an ‘okole like Tank would be like dancing on their graves. They ran this
store as a gesture of peace and love to the local people here. They didn’t care
about the kala .”
“Didn’t care? Twenty years ago they
sold this building because of the money,” I said.
She pressed her lips into a tight
frown.
I went on. “And two hundred grand
is some serious dough. You’d never sweat money again with that kind of stash.”
“But this isn’t just my work, it’s
my home.” She glanced up, indicating her tiny apartment above the store.
“Maybe Tank will still let you live
up there. Pay him rent or something.”
“No, the offer is to get out. Pau .”
Something red caught my eye and I
looked down. Farrah had pushed the blade of the paring knife into her palm.
Three or four dark red drops had fallen to the floor.
“Eh, that hurts,” she said.
She dropped the bloody knife on a display of neatly stacked head lettuce and
pressed her thumb into the cut. Blood from the knife seeped across a lettuce
head making it look like it’d taken a bullet.
“He offered to buy me out of ‘Let’s
Get Maui’d’ too,” I said.
“Really? How much?”
“Five grand.”
“What? That’s a freakin’ insult.”
“Yeah, but it’s pretty obvious
Tank’s way more interested in groceries than girls. He’ll probably just farm
out the wedding business. Besides, like you said, you’ve got inventory—and a
huge customer base.”
“So,” said Farrah, “what did Noni
mean about Tank making a bid on your house? I didn’t know it was for sale.”
“It isn’t. It’s in foreclosure. I’m
behind on the payments.”
She opened her palm. Blood oozed
from the cut. I pulled a clean white tissue from my beach bag and held it out
to her. It looked like a limp surrender flag. She grabbed it and dabbed at the
blood.
I went on, “I’m not going to sweat
losing my house, though, because by the end of next week I’ll be paying off my
bills and almost caught up on my mortgage. I’m planning to tell that fatso, tanks
but no tanks .”
“Sounds good. But I’m not sure what
I should do. I hate the idea of caving to that slimy pololia but what
can I do? I need to go upstairs and consult my sources.”
Farrah relied heavily on her
Ouija board, tarot cards, and rune stones to manage her day-to-day life. Her
apartment resembled a gypsy fortune teller’s wagon with walls festooned in
decades-old tie-dye, crystal prisms dangling in the windows, and every
available flat surface cluttered with mystical trinkets. Although she was an
ordained minister of the Church of Spirit and Light—an ultra-liberal Christian
sect—her personal belief system leaned much more toward the paranormal.
I gave her a hug and went over to
my shop. Before I had a chance to switch on the lights I saw the answering
machine blinking a cheerful staccato. The read-out showed three messages. Was
it too much to hope at least one of them was good news?
“Pali, I hate to bug you, but
I’m gonna need some deposit money before I start printing these wedding
announcements. Get back to me, okay?”
“Hi Pali. Keahou here. I usually
get full payment before I make a cake, but since you’re my good girl bringing
me this business , I’ll let you just give me half. When can you get that to
me?”
“This is Akiko. I forgot to tell
you I’m ready for the first fitting. Tell your bride we need to do it quick.
Oh, and can you pay me some money? The fabric cost over two hundred dollars.”
I punched in Lisa Marie’s cell
phone number.
“Now what?” she snapped. “I told
you not to bother me.”
I refused to rise to the bait.
“You’ll be happy to hear Akiko is ready for the first fitting of your gown.”
“Why do I need a fitting? That
stupid little woman already measured every inch of me. It was way embarrassing.
I bet she wouldn’t stick a tape measure up Paris Hilton’s crotch. ”
“It’s up to you, Lisa Marie. It’s
true Akiko
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