Carol Clark - Burned

R egan walked around the hotel and spotted Jazzy sipping coffee and going over papers in the coffee shop where Regan had eaten breakfast. She decided to go in and have a little chat with the queen of the gift bags.

“Mind if I join you?” Regan asked.

Jazzy looked up. She had reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose and was looking very efficient. She tossed back her mane of blond hair and urged Regan to sit down. “Things are a little hectic getting ready for the ball. It’s really going to be exciting.”

Regan nodded and ordered a cup of tea from the waitress who had served her breakfast. “You’re still here?” Regan asked.

“Another kid called in sick,” Winnie noted matter-of-factly. “I guess the surf’s pretty good today. Oh, well. If my feet hold out, I’ll be fine. More money for my eventual retirement.”

Regan smiled and turned to Jazzy. “I understand the ball is sold out.”

“It’s crazy and a little strange. People are intrigued by the auction. All the press about Dorinda and the antique lei has sparked a lot of interest in the whole evening.”

“Here you go, honey.” The waitress placed Regan’s tea on the small table. “Drink it in good health.”

“Thanks.” Regan picked up the metal container of milk and poured in a few drops, added a touch of sugar, and stirred.

“How come you’re not down on the beach?” Jazzy asked. “You’re on vacation. Steve and Kit surely wouldn’t mind having you join them.”

“Oh, I know. Steve seems like a nice guy,” Regan answered evasively.

“He is a nice guy. I’d get a little bored being retired at such a young age, though.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, Regan thought. House-sitting on the Big Island for a rich guy isn’t exactly like being part of the labor force.

As if Jazzy could read her thoughts, she continued, “I know I’m no longer working as a big-city lawyer, but that’s okay. I like working for Claude. It’s much less stressful than being an attorney. And getting his Hawaiian clothing business off the ground is really important to us.”

Regan couldn’t help but wonder what the “us” meant. Maybe that explains why Jazzy hadn’t zoned in on Steve. She certainly is an operator. “This whole Dorinda thing,” Regan said, “is so puzzling. I spoke to someone today who had been interviewed by her years ago and said that Dorinda really burned her.”

“Was that your mother?” Jazzy asked coolly.

“My mother?”

“Your name is Regan Reilly,” Jazzy said quickly. “Her name is Nora Regan Reilly. Even though you have dark hair, you look a lot like her.”

“You’re quite a sleuth, Jazzy.”

“And so are you.”

“Dorinda did interview my mother. She didn’t exactly endear herself to her with the article, but my mother actually felt sorry for her.”

Jazzy waved her hand at Regan. “She had her whole journalist act down pat. I’m telling you, she manipulated people. She was talking about interviewing Claude for the magazine Spirits in Paradise. Then she backed off. Then she thought she might. Then she said that she decided he was too rich, that he didn’t need a second career out here because he had enough money to live no matter what happened. She wanted to focus on go-getters who had the courage to leave their safe jobs on the mainland and try to make it in Hawaii. Please! Claude would have been a wonderful interview subject. He had the courage to try something different. Just because he had been successful, it shouldn’t be held against him. And the last thing Claude needs is to be embarrassed if his business flops. After all, doesn’t everyone just love to see someone fail in a new career when they’ve been so very successful at something else?”

Not everyone, Regan thought. She raised her eyebrows and sipped her tea. Well, I guess she answered my question about her boss-and I do think their relationship runs a little deeper than just business. “Did Dorinda ever meet with Claude?”

“We had a big outdoor party at the house at Christmastime and invited her. This was when she said again that she was going to interview Claude. She was so nosy, it was unbelievable. She was snooping around everywhere.” Jazzy laughed. “Inside and out. She was even wandering through our woods, taking pictures. I put glass marbles in Claude’s medicine cabinet because I’d heard how meddling people can be at parties. Well, wouldn’t you know, it was Dorinda who used the bathroom at the end of the hall in the master bedroom. She opened the cabinet, the marbles went rolling, and they broke all over the bathroom floor. I was nearby and got the broom. She claimed she had a headache and was looking for aspirin.”

It sounds like Dorinda and Jazzy were birds of a feather, Regan thought.

“That’s when I knew she was trouble,” Jazzy continued. “You know how sometimes you just get an instant reaction to a person? And it’s often right?”

“I sure do,” Regan said. And my instant reaction to you was hardly positive. What kind of person puts glass marbles in their medicine cabinet that might potentially mortify one of their guests? The same kind of person who will write lousy things about people.

“I mean, she had a stolen lei around her neck. What does that tell you?” Jazzy asked.

“There could be a lot of explanations for that,” Regan answered quietly.

“Which we probably will never hear. She took that secret to her grave.” Jazzy looked down at her paperwork for a moment, then looked back up at Regan. “You and Kit will be at the ball, right?”

“Yes.”

“I told Steve he should bid on the princess’s lei for Kit. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

“I guess it would.”

“He really seems to like her.” Jazzy leaned in toward Regan as though she were about to divulge a big secret. “Let me tell you something: A lot of the ladies on this island are circling around him,” she whispered. “He is a catch with a capital C. I’m surprised some girl hasn’t nabbed him already. It makes me wonder what he’s waiting for. Whoever lands that big fish is going to be one lucky girl.”

Regan smiled. “And if he lands Kit, he’ll be one lucky guy.”

Jazzy threw back her head, laughed, and waved her hand. “Of course he will. In any case, we’ll all have fun tomorrow night. I can’t wait to see how much money that shell lei brings in at the auction. And if they auction off both-wow! This place will be in a frenzy!”

“I’m sure it’ll be interesting,” Regan agreed, wondering if there would be a moment of silence for Dorinda Dawes. Somehow she doubted it.

N ed stuffed the leis in his yellow nylon knapsack and ran as fast as he could from the grounds of the Seashell Museum. Everything happened in a blur. He never expected to see the leis sitting right there on the picnic table, and the second he spotted them, Ned knew there was no time to hesitate. He waved down a taxi and asked to be taken into the heart of Waikiki’s shopping district. He didn’t want anyone to trace him back to the Waikiki Waters, just as on the way out.

Luckily the cabdriver seemed oblivious. He was playing loud music and grunted when Ned gave him his destination. In the back of the car Ned’s pulse was racing. He’d given that guy a shove when he started to turn around. Boy, could he scream. You’d think after meditating it would have taken him a minute or two to get so worked up.

Ned got out of the cab on Kalakaua Avenue at the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center in Waikiki and started to walk. He blended in easily with the Japanese and American tourists who were wandering in and out of the stylish shops. It was now four o’clock, and Ned’s mind was racing. What am I going to do with these leis? he wondered. How can I bring them back to the hotel room? What if Artie sees them? I have to hide them somewhere until Artie and the tour group leave. Then I’ll figure out a permanent spot for them.