Carol Clark - Burned

What are those two up to? she wondered.

“Hey, Regan!” Bob called to her. “We’re on this hallway, too. They never seem to give us enough towels no matter how much we complain.” He laughed. “So we took matters into our own hands.” He held up several towels that they’d obviously taken from the unguarded room.

“You can never have enough towels,” Regan agreed as she quickly opened the door to her hotel room and gratefully slipped inside. What a morning, she thought. Now she wanted to call the man Dorinda had interviewed for Spirits in Paradise. Then she’d take a walk around the hotel. She also wanted to find Will and tell him that she’d like to meet Dorinda’s cousin. Who knows what she might find out from him?

Regan sat down on her bed and pulled the cell phone from her purse. “First things first,” she said to herself as she dialed Jack’s number. She hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to him yesterday. This morning he had been in a meeting when she called, and she told him she’d call back later. When he answered the phone, he said, “Finally!”

“Hi!”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t talk this morning. How’s it going out there in paradise?”

“Fine. I’m actually working for a living out here. You know, a lot of people would love to work in Hawaii, and I got a job without trying.”

“What?”

“I know Mike Darnell told you a female employee drowned here at the beach in front of the hotel. The manager thinks she may have been murdered. And strange things have been happening at the hotel. He wants me to see what I can find out.”

“Where’s Kit?”

“On the beach with the new guy.”

“Oh, boy. It sounds as if she doesn’t need you.”

“I’m glad she’s having a good time. And now I’m occupied.”

“Did you speak to Mike about the manager’s suspicions?”

“No. He joined us for drinks last night. I wasn’t hired until Kit and I came back to the hotel and the manager asked if we’d join him for a drink.”

“How did he know you were a private investigator?”

“Kit told him earlier in the evening when we ran into him in the lobby.”

“Kit doesn’t waste time, does she?”

Regan smiled. “Not lately. Anyway, according to Mike the police believe that the woman drowned. There were no signs of struggle. But, get this: the woman was from New York and had interviewed my mother years ago. She turned out to be a piece of goods. She burned my mother with the article she wrote about her.”

“Maybe Nora arranged the hit.”

“Very funny, Jack.” Regan laughed. “I’m telling my mother you said that.”

“She won’t mind. She thinks I’m going to be a wonderful son-in-law.”

“I know she does. According to her, you’re capable of doing no wrong.”

“Your mother has good taste,” Jack pronounced with a laugh. “But seriously, Regan, why does the manager think she was murdered? He must have some good reason.”

“That’s the $64,000 question. All he said was that when she was leaving the other night, she told him she was going straight home.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“There’s got to be more to his story.”

“I know. I think I’m going to have to talk to him again.”

In his office, Jack shook his head. “I guess it’s why I love you, Regan. You do manage to find yourself in these situations more often than not. I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it at least a thousand times more: Be careful, would you please?”

Regan thought of Jimmy standing over her this morning. It was uncomfortably close. Then that weird couple with the camouflage hats admiring her ring. “I’ll be fine, Jack,” she insisted. “Besides, I don’t like to sit in the sun all day. I’ll take a swim later, but this gives me something to do.”

“I’d prefer you with a sunburn.”

Regan laughed. But she had to admit to herself that things at the Waikiki Waters were a little “off.” And probably destined to get worse.

E ven though the waves were great and the scenery magnificent-with the mountains serving as a backdrop and the cloudless blue sky, turquoise ocean, and white sand beach-Ned could barely concentrate on his surfing. He had taken Artie to a cove where the waves were smaller than out on the open sea. Ned demonstrated how to paddle out, place your hands on either side of the board, and jump to your feet. They practiced on the sand, and then Artie went out by himself, eager to catch a wave. All Ned could think about was the fact that the lei he had stolen years ago was back at the Seashell Museum. How was it possible? What happened to that couple who bought the lei from him at the airport?

As Ned paddled through the water on top of his board, he thought about the story he’d heard of a kid who threw a bottle in the ocean with a note stuffed inside asking whoever found it to get in contact. How many years did it take before the bottle finally washed ashore? At least twenty years, Ned remembered. Lucky the kid’s parents were still living at the address in the bottle-not like his parents who moved so much they never once finished unpacking their boxes. They schlepped them from house to house to house. When Ned’s dad finally retired and they moved to a condo in Maine, they ended up throwing out most of the stuff they’d carted around for years. It made Ned crazy.

If any of Ned’s old classmates had ever tried to find him, it would have been an impossible task. But that was the way Ned liked it. He didn’t want anyone from his childhood to come knocking at his door. Keep the past in the past, he often thought.

But the lei. When he sold it to the people at the airport, he was sure he would never see it again, and that was fine with him. The couple was on their way to God knows where. He remembered that the wife kept calling the husband by some weird name. What was it again? I can’t possibly expect to remember, he thought, but it was unusual, and it made him laugh at the time. And now the lei was back in Hawaii. Back at the museum. And he was back after having moved away with his family all those years ago. After Ned separated from his wife, he wanted to get as far away from her as possible. So he moved from Pennsylvania to Hawaii. What a coincidence that both he and the shell lei had found their way back to paradise. It must mean something, he thought. I’ve got to see the lei again.

“Hey, Artie,” he yelled, “that’s it!” Ned was amazed to see that Artie actually got up on the board and was riding a wave. He even looked happy. On the shore, Francie was cheering. Ned was relieved that she had opted against surfing. It was difficult enough to teach one person to surf, and after reading that newspaper article, Ned had a lot on his mind. But he was glad Francie was along. She could watch him show off on the board. This is what he craved-attention. People listening to him. People who didn’t think he was a geek.

Artie had on a wet suit, but Ned thought they were for wimps. The Pacific Ocean felt good on his body. All he wore besides his bathing suit were rubber shoes. He told the others that the broken shells in the water could be fierce when you’re trying to get in or out and that he had a bad cut on the bottom of one foot. He did a song and dance about how coral cuts could lead to serious infections. Of course he really wore the shoes to cover up those stupid toes of his.

When he thought about it, he couldn’t believe there was ever a time in his life when he wore sandals. As a matter of fact, he realized, the last time he had worn sandals was in Hawaii all those years ago. First that lady whose husband bought the lei couldn’t take her eyes off his feet. It was as if she was in shock. Later that night he got in a fight at a bar with some drunken freak who made fun of his toes. After that he vowed he’d never let them be exposed again. Tough work for an athlete who loved water sports. Somehow he managed.