William Bankier: Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 103, No. 3 & 4. Whole No. 625 & 626, March 1994

“Well, we thought we’d either drive down to the Volcanoes National Park or explore the northern part of the island.”

“We’re day-tripping up north ourselves — Waimea, Waipio Valley, the Kohala Coast. How about coming along with us?”

“Well...”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. We rented a Caddy and there’s plenty of room. You can both just sit back and relax and soak up the sights.”

“Jan? Okay with you?”

She nodded, and Larry said, “Terrific. Let’s get an early start — breakfast at seven, on the road by eight. That isn’t too early for you folks? No? Good, then it’s settled.”

When the check came I offered again to pay half. He wouldn’t hear of it. As we left the restaurant, Brenda said she felt like going dancing and Larry said that was a fine idea, how about making it a foursome? Jan and I begged off. It had been a long day, as travel days always are, and we were both ready for bed.

In our room Jan asked, “What do you think of them?”

“Likable and fun to be with,” I said. “But exhausting. Where do they get all their energy?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Larry’s a little pushy. We’ll have to make sure he doesn’t talk us into anything we don’t want to do.” I paused. “You know, there’s something odd about the way they act together. It’s more than just being on a dream vacation, having a good time, but I can’t quite put my finger on it...”

“They’re like a couple of kids with a big secret,” Jan said. “They’re so excited they’re ready to burst.”

We’ve been married for nearly thirty years and we often have similar impressions and perceptions. Sometimes it amazes me just how closely our minds work.

“That’s it,” I said. “That’s it exactly.”

The trip to the northern part of the island was enjoyable, if wearying. Larry and Brenda did most of the talking, Larry playing tour guide and unraveling an endless string of facts about Hawaii’s history, geography, flora, and fauna. We spent a good part of the morning in the rustic little town of Waimea, in the saddle between Kohala Mountain and the towering Mauna Kea — the seat of the Parker Ranch, the largest individually owned cattle ranch in the United States. It was lunchtime when we finished rubbing elbows with Hawaiian cowboys and shopping for native crafts, and Brenda suggested we buy sandwich fixings and a bottle of wine and find someplace to have a picnic.

Larry wanted to hike out to the rim of the Waipio Valley and picnic there, but the rest of us weren’t up to a long walk. So we drove up into the mountains on the Kawaihae road. When the road leveled out across a long plateau we might have been in California or the Pacific Northwest: rolling fields, cattle, thick stands of pine. In the middle of one of the wooded sections, Larry slowed and then pulled off onto the verge.

“Down there by that stream,” he said. “Now that’s a perfect spot for a picnic.”

Brenda wasn’t so sure. “You think it’s safe? Looks like a lot of brush and grass to wade through...”

He laughed. “Don’t worry, there aren’t any wild animals up here to bother us.”

“What about creepy-crawlies?”

“Nope. No poisonous snakes or spiders on any of the Hawaiian islands.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure, kuu ipo. The guidebooks never lie.”

We had our picnic, and all through it Larry and Brenda nuzzled and necked and cast little knowing glances at each other. Once he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh raucously and say, “Oh, you’re wicked!” Their behavior had seemed charming last night, but today it was making both Jan and me uncomfortable. Fifty-year-old adults who act like conspiratorial teenagers seem ludicrous after you’ve spent enough time in their company.

Kawaihae Bay was beautiful, and the clifftop view from Upolu Point was breathtaking. On the way back down the coast we stopped at a two-hundred-year-old temple built by King Kamehameha, and at the white-sand Hapuna Beach where Jan fed the remains of our picnic to the dozens of stray cats that lived there. It was after five when we got back to Kailua Kona.

The Archersons insisted again that we have dinner with them and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So we stayed at the Kolekole long enough to change clothes and then went out to a restaurant that specialized in luau-style roast pork. And when we were finished eating, back we went to the hotel and up to their suite. They had a private terrace and it was the perfect place, Brenda said, to watch one of the glorious Hawaiian sunsets.

Larry brought out a bottle of Kahlua, and when he finished pouring drinks he raised his glass in another toast. “To our new aikane, Jan and Dick.”

“Aikane means good friends,” Brenda said.

Jan and I drank, but my heart wasn’t in it and I could tell that hers wasn’t either. The Archersons were wearing thin on both of us.

The evening was a reprise of yesterday’s: not too hot, with a soft breeze carrying the scent of exotic flowers. Surfers played on the waves offshore. The sunset was spectacular, with fiery reds and oranges, but it didn’t last long enough to suit me.

Brenda sighed elaborately as darkness closed down. “Almost the end of another perfect day. Time goes by so quickly out here, doesn’t it, Jan?”

“Yes it does.”

Larry said, “That’s why you have to get the most out of each day in paradise. So what’ll we do tomorrow? Head down to see the volcanoes, check out the lava flows?”

“There’s a road called Chain of Craters that’s wonderful,” Brenda said. “It goes right out over the flows and at the end there’s a place where you can actually walk on the lava. Parts of it are still hot!”

I said, “Yes, we’ve been looking forward to seeing the volcano area. But since you’ve already been there, I think we’ll just drive down by ourselves in the morning—”

“No, no, we’ll drive you down. We don’t mind seeing it all again, do we, Brenda?”

“I sure don’t. I’d love to see it again.”

“Larry, I don’t mean this to sound ungrateful, but Jan and I would really like some time to ourselves—”

“Look at that moon coming up, will you? It’s as big as a Halloween pumpkin.”

It was, but I couldn’t enjoy it now. I tried again to say my piece, and again he interrupted me.

“Nothing like the moons we get back home in Wisconsin,” he said. He put his arm around Brenda’s shoulders and nuzzled her neck. “Is it, pet? Nothing at all like a Wisconsin moon.”

She didn’t answer. Surprisingly, her face scrunched up and her eyes glistened and I thought for a moment she would burst into tears.

Jan said, “Why, Brenda, what’s the matter?”

“It’s my fault,” Larry said ruefully. “I used to call her that all the time, but since the accident... well, I try to remember not to but sometimes it just slips out.”

“Call her what? Pet?”

He nodded. “Makes her think of her babies.”

“Babies? But I thought you didn’t have children.”

“We don’t. Brenda, honey, I’m sorry. We’ll talk about something else...”

“No, it’s all right.” She dried her eyes on a Kleenex and then said to Jan and me, “My babies were Lhasa apsos. Brother and sister — Hansel and Gretel.”

“Oh,” Jan said, “dogs.”

“Not just dogs — the sweetest, most gentle...” Brenda snuffled again. “I miss them terribly, even after six months.”

“What happened to them?”

“They died in the fire, the poor babies. We buried them at Shady Acres. That’s a nice name for a pet cemetery, don’t you think? Shady Acres?”

“What kind of fire was it?”

“That’s right, we didn’t tell you, did we? Our house burned down six months ago. Right to the ground while we were at a party at a friend’s place.”