Carol Clark - Burned

“No, it doesn’t.” Jason took her hand. “Forget them. Let’s go rent a car.”

“Okay,” Carla agreed, silently wondering where the twins had gone. She thought their actions seemed suspicious. Why couldn’t they have asked their friend about a restaurant? It wasn’t every day you got engaged. Something was up with those two not very nice people. They were downright rude for no reason. And worst of all, they didn’t tell her what a gorgeous ring Jason and his mother had so carefully picked out for her. The woman had actually been dismissive of the one piece of jewelry Carla had been waiting for her whole life! What an insult! Carla’s blood started to boil.

And after someone insulted Carla, she wasn’t the type to let it go. Ever. Grudge was her middle name.

H e stared at the picture of Dorinda Dawes and read the story of her death. He remembered everything about the night he broke into the museum and stole all those seashells. He had the Queen’s lei around his neck when the cops chased him into the alley. That was almost the end for him. But when Dorinda Dawes wore that lei around her neck, it was the end for her.

Thank God he wasn’t caught that night thirty years ago. It had been close. Why can’t I resist a dare? he asked himself.

Sometimes he wished he’d been born with a larger capacity for coping with boredom. He envied people who were content to do the same thing over and over again.

“Till I’m blue in the face,” as his grandmother used to say. “I cook and clean till I’m blue in the face, and I’m still tickled pink that God gave me two hands.”

Granny was some character, he thought, laughing to himself. He didn’t get to see her that much growing up. He was an army brat. His family was always moving around. It was hard to make friends because his family never stayed in one place. And once kids got a look at his toes, they would torment him. He reacted by causing trouble and developing a tough exterior. He was eight years old when he started to steal kids’ lunchboxes.

His family had spent the year in Hawaii when he was sixteen. What a year. His father was stationed at Fort de Russy, right on the beach in Waikiki. He was enrolled at the local high school but spent most of his time surfing and hanging around the hotel beaches, stealing whatever he could from unsuspecting tourists.

How did the lei that I sold to a couple about to get on an airplane to the mainland end up back here with Dorinda Dawes? he wondered.

I have to see that lei again, he thought. Now that it’s back at the museum, maybe I should return to the scene of the crime. Lucky they didn’t have face recognition software thirty years ago. But I had a pair of panty hose over my head. Maybe they have panty hose recognition software. “Look for the union label,” he hummed as he turned the page of the newspaper.

I would love to hold the lei in my hands, put it around my neck again. Relive those thrilling moments when I outran the cops. Maybe I can steal it a second time. The thought was irresistible. They’re making such a big deal about auctioning off the other royal shell lei at the “Be a Princess” Ball. If this lei disappears again, it’ll really be a story!

He wondered if they had upgraded their security at the Seashell Museum. It wasn’t exactly the Louvre, but they loved their leis.

I’m aching for trouble, he realized. And I’ve been like this since I was a little kid. He remembered the time he’d volunteered to make a milk shake for his sister’s friend. He poured Ivory liquid into the blender. The shake came out so frothy that the girl took a big sip. The look on her face as she went running outside the house and spitting it out in the bushes was priceless. He’d never laughed so hard in his life. And while she was outside, he stole some change from her purse.

The start of my problems, he thought. From that day on he got such a thrill out of stealing and screwing things up for people. Why can’t I just laugh at stupid jokes and movies that the rest of the world thinks are hilarious? I need more than that to keep me excited. I need to always be on the move. It’s why I exercise like a maniac, he told himself as he turned the page of the newspaper.

The van stopped in front of a beautiful surfing beach. Francie tapped him on the shoulder. “Ned! Look at those waves! They’re monstrous!”

He smiled. “I told you.”

“They look so dangerous!” Francie cried. “Are you sure you want to surf there?”

Ned turned to her. “Don’t you see, Francie? That’s what makes it fun.”

W hen Regan got back to the hotel, she stopped in Will’s office. Janet, his sturdy-looking secretary, was on the phone. Keeper of the gate, Regan dubbed her. Janet’s glasses were resting at the tip of her nose, and she had that take-charge air of someone who had never experienced a nervous moment in their life. Nor a second of self-doubt. Regan guessed that she was probably in her fifties.

“Is Will here?” Regan asked quietly. Turned out it wasn’t necessary to be discreet.

“No. I think he’s a little stressed. He went out a little while ago,” Janet practically bellowed. “Listen, hon,” she yelled into the phone, “I’ve got to go.” She dropped the phone into the receiver, looked up at Regan, and lowered her voice. “I know Will wants you to look into things around here.”

“He told you?”

“Of course. If you can’t trust your secretary…” Her voice trailed off. Temporarily. “Between what happened to Dorinda and all the problems since the renovation, Will has a full plate, I’m telling you that. The poor guy is a wreck.” She picked a manila envelope off her desk and handed it to Regan. “In there are all the newsletters Dorinda wrote, the magazine article, and the list of problems and complaints since the renovation.”

“Thanks.”

“Excuse me, Janet,” a male’s voice said.

Regan turned. It was a guy in a bellman’s uniform. She smiled at him.

“Is Will around?” the bellman asked politely, with a big smile.

“He’ll be back in a little while,” Janet answered.

“I’ll catch him later then.” He smiled again, waved, and exited the room, reminding Regan of a guy she knew in college who never stopped smiling. You could tell him your house was burning down, but nothing could wipe the grin off his face.

Janet gestured to the departing figure. “Will is Glenn’s mentor. Will also started as a bellman, and for the last year or two he’s been showing that kid the ropes. He thinks the guy will work his way up in this hotel.” She paused. “Regan, you would not believe the morning we’re having. People have been calling like crazy. With all the publicity about the royal lei around Dorinda’s neck and the matching lei being auctioned off, half of Honolulu now wants to come to the ‘Be a Princess’ Ball. We’re squeezing as many tables as we can into the ballroom, but we have to turn people away. Dorinda finally got us some business.”

Regan’s eyebrows raised. “I guess she did.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Janet continued quickly. “I feel bad she died. She was hired when the renovation was finally finished to jazz things up around here with the newsletter. All she did was get on everyone’s nerves. But her death has certainly added spice to the Towers. Now everyone wants a ticket to the ball, and they want the lei that is being auctioned off. They also want to know what’s going to happen to the lei that Dorinda was wearing when she died. If you ask me, people have been watching too many of those crime shows on television.”

“I was just at the Seashell Museum. The owner hasn’t decided whether to auction off the second lei or not.”