Carol Clark - Burned

I look cool in these seaweed-colored shoes, he thought. It’s all in the attitude. He tried to teach that to the kids he worked with at the hotel-especially the ones with no natural athletic ability. If I didn’t have such a taste for crime, I could have been a really swell guy.

He steadied himself and got up on the board as a wave was coming in. He stood and balanced himself, riding the wave and feeling the thrill. He could feel his endorphins kicking in as his surfboard glided through the water. It was an exhilarating feeling.

But it wasn’t the same high as stealing.

He was laughing when the ride ended, and he and Artie together carried their boards to the shore.

“That was great!” Francie cried. “I should try it again one of these days!”

“I have to admit it was fun,” Artie said as he caught his breath.

“I’m getting hungry. Why don’t we go back and grab a late lunch?” Ned suggested.

“Then we can hit the beach,” Francie suggested.

“Sure,” Ned agreed, but he had no intention of going to the beach again this afternoon. He had business to take care of at the Seashell Museum.

O n a black sand beach north of the Kona airport, Jason and Carla walked hand in hand, only letting go of each other to pick up coral shells. They had already filled two shopping bags.

“Will we always be this happy?” Carla asked Jason as they put their shopping bags down, walked to the water’s edge, and let the ocean swirl around their feet.

“Hope so.” He paused. “But the odds are against us.”

Jason laughed as Carla poked him in the ribs. “You’re not very romantic.”

“I was just kidding! And I am romantic. I was waiting for a moonlit night to propose. I should have checked the Farmer’s Almanac, and then I would have known it wasn’t a good idea. My best intentions just got me in trouble.”

Carla kissed him on the cheek. “I still can’t believe I was walking on that beach at the same time Dorinda Dawes was floating around in the water.”

“You gave me a good scare. I wake up at three in the morning, and you’re gone.”

“It was scary on the beach at that hour. Something out there struck me as weird, but I was a little tipsy so I don’t remember what it was. I really want to think of it so I can help that girl Regan.”

“What do you mean weird?” Jason asked.

“Like I saw something strange. Not a murder weapon or anything, but something was out of place.”

“You usually forget nothing, especially what I do wrong.”

Carla laughed. “I know, but we’d been drinking piña coladas by the pool all afternoon and had wine at dinner. And then I grabbed a couple of beers from the mini bar before I went on the beach. I’m surprised you didn’t smell it on my breath.”

“What did you do with the bottles?”

“I threw them into the ocean when I was finished.”

“Litterbug.”

“I made a wish on each one.”

“What did you wish?”

“Well, one wish came true. You finally proposed.”

“What was your second wish?”

“That it doesn’t rain on the big day. Or else my hair will frizz, and I’ll go nuts.”

“Some people say rain brings good luck.”

Carla smiled at him sweetly. “With you I don’t need any more luck. I’m not greedy.”

Jason hugged her. He wouldn’t let himself think too much about the fact that this girl he loved was walking around on the beach when, quite possibly, a murder was being committed-all because it was cloudy and he hadn’t proposed. There’s no question, he thought, that Regan Reilly is asking questions because they don’t think it was a simple drowning. “I think we have enough of these shells to write out the Gettysburg Address,” he finally said. “Let’s get in the car and find a good spot to declare our love for each other to anyone who bothers to read Hawaiian graffiti.”

“Are you kidding? It’s a tourist attraction. Everyone on the highway to and from the airport will read it. And people flying above can look down and see it.”

“Only if you’re flying in a plane six feet off the ground or you happen to own a pair of supersonic spy glasses.” He picked up the shopping bags off the sand. “Let’s go.”

They ambled up to their rental car that was parked on a cliff overlooking the turquoise water and marveled that there was no one else on the beach. The setting was gorgeous, complete with a waterfall and coconut palm trees. Everything was postcard perfect except the dent on the left back door of the car. Tiny traces of yellow paint lingered. The rental agent had presented the damaged vehicle to them without batting an eye. Jason immediately called on his bargaining skills and received a ten percent discount.

“More money to spend on our honeymoon,” Carla had trilled. “You are such a smart businessman.”

The sun was blazing, and inside the car it was hot. Jason turned on the air conditioning which promptly blew even hotter air in their faces. “Come on, baby,” he urged. “Let’s cool down.”

Carla pulled down the visor and inspected herself in the mirror. She was starting to sweat, and her mascara was running. “After we do the shells, let’s go swimming to cool off and then find a place for lunch. My stomach is grumbling.”

“You want to eat now? It’ll take energy to arrange the shells.”

“Good idea.”

They pulled out onto the highway and drove north. On their left the Pacific Ocean stretched out endlessly. On their right were coffee-covered mountain slopes.

“This is awesome,” Carla said. “I read somewhere that the Hawaiian Islands are the most isolated island chain in the world.”

“I read the same magazine. It’s back in the room. It also said that the Big Island is the size of the state of Connecticut. Too bad we don’t have time to drive down to the big volcano.”

“The most active volcano in the world.”

“I know. Like I told you, I read that magazine.”

“When did you read it?”

“When you took two hours to get ready last night.”

“Oh. Well, maybe we should come back to the Big Island on our honeymoon. It’s rural and romantic. There are rain forests to explore, and we can horseback ride, kayak, hike, snorkel, swim…”

“Maybe.”

Carla settled back in her seat. She looked out the window as Jason turned on the radio. A song was ending, and the DJ started to speak: “Well, that was a song for lovers. And for all you lovers out there, have you tried eating at the Shanty Shanty Shack? It’s right on the beach in Kona, and it’s a great place to gaze in each other’s eyes at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Turn off the highway at-.”

“Look!” Carla exclaimed. “It’s a sign for the Shanty Shanty Shack! Make a left two hundred feet ahead. Let’s try it! It was meant to be.”

Jason shrugged. “Why not?” He put on the blinker, and they turned off the highway at the next sign for the restaurant, which had a big arrow pointing toward the beach. They went down a poorly paved narrow road that curved around a grove of banana trees and ended in a little cove with a small parking lot. The restaurant was perched on stilts overlooking the water. It was connected to a sweet, quaint hotel.

“What a discovery! Now this is Hawaii!” Carla exclaimed. “I’d love to stay here. You feel so close to nature!”

“Let’s go inside and check out the food,” Jason said practically.

They got out of the car and stepped onto the restaurant’s rickety wooden deck. The water lapped below. “Smell that salty air!” Carla urged. “It smells not only like salt but flowers, too!”

“I smell it, I smell it. Let’s keep moving. I’m hungry.”

“Oh, look, Jason!” Carla pointed to a treehouse in the distance. In front of it was a big sign with large yellow lettering that read PRIVATE PROPERTY-KEEP OUT! AND I MEAN IT!