Carol Clark - Burned

Ned almost choked on the scotch that he was drinking too quickly. “Could they be embezzling funds?” he asked as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “That’s unbelievable. I know they drive a hard bargain with Will.”

“Of course they could!” Francie cried dramatically, waving her arm in the air. “They are denying us our right to enjoy Hawaii to the fullest!”

“At least we scored four tickets for the ball,” Artie announced. “Wait till they get a load of that.”

Glenn the bellman waved from the walkway.

“He’s everywhere,” Joy commented.

Ned’s central nervous system was on red alert. He took another sip of scotch. When he saw Glenn approaching, he wanted to get up and run.

“I hope you all enjoy the hula girls,” Glenn said, smiling broadly. “I know Ned has a fondness for hula girls, right, Ned? You folks should see the wild wrapping paper he had on a present he bought today.”

“I saw that paper. Can you believe he’s giving that package to his mother?” Artie laughed.

“That’s not what he told me!” Glenn smiled.

Ned tried to laugh it off. “Give me a break. The store wrapped the present.” He waved his hand dismissively.

Glenn clapped his hands once. “Well, I’ll be off. Enjoy the show!”

I’m going to kill that guy, Ned thought. He’s playing with my head.

“So,” Joy said, “are we all in this or what?”

“All in what?” Betsy queried.

“Are we all going to go back to Hudville and find out what’s up with the funds?”

Artie didn’t answer. He knew he was moving out of Hudville as soon as possible, and he just didn’t care. This Joy was annoying him. She made him feel old and uninteresting.

“Count us out,” Bob said. “Betsy and I are too busy with our literary pursuits.”

“What about you, Francie?” Joy asked.

“What worries me,” Francie began, “is that Hudville is such a small town. If we start something and the twins are innocent, we’ll look like a bunch of ingrates. Things might get a little awkward.”

“Awkward?” Artie practically snorted. “I wouldn’t want to run into Gert and Ev in a dark alley if I’d stirred up trouble for them.”

“They don’t scare me,” Joy said dismissively as she stirred her drink with a straw. “It’s something to think about.”

“Misuse of funds is very common,” Ned opined. “Power goes to people’s heads, you know? They start to think that they deserve the money.”

“Ned, where did you get your psychology degree?” Francie laughed. “You sound like you understand the criminal mind all too well.”

To Ned’s relief, at that moment the band decided to strike up, as they say. With big smiles the hula girls started to sway their hips, and their fingers fluttered through the air like little fishes. As Ned watched the scantily clad girls, all he could see was the hula girls on the paper that he had so carefully wrapped around the box of antique shell leis.

Who had their hands all over his paper hula girls and took the leis? he wondered. It had to be Glenn, he decided. Who else could it be? But why? How can I get back at him? While staring at the dancing girls he pondered the thought of just leaving town. But then what? He had no place to go.

No, I’m staying, he told himself. Glenn must be up to something, and I intend to find out what it is. He’s not going to beat me at this game.

Because I always play to win.

S teve’s party was better than Regan had thought it would be. There were a lot more people there than the night before, and a lively, amiable atmosphere enveloped his home. Hawaiian music was coming from the stereo speakers, the blender was whirring with tropical drinks, and the grill was sizzling with fresh ahi, ono, mahimahi, and hot dogs and hamburgers. Members of Steve’s softball team were there as well as a handful of his neighbors.

Steve couldn’t have been more charming. He was the ultimate host, introducing people, refilling drinks, supervising the dinner, and paying a lot of attention to Kit. Regan and Kit sat at a large table on the deck, eating, socializing, and having a few laughs.

I’ve never seen Kit look so happy, Regan thought guiltily as she kept an eye out for an opportunity to grab something with Steve’s fingerprints. But I’m only doing it for your own good, Kit, Regan mused. Lines from the song “That’s What Friends Are For” ran through her head. And if you’re best friends with a private investigator, there are certain drawbacks that come with the territory.

Regan was happy that Steve seemed to genuinely care about Kit. Maybe I’m wrong, she thought. Maybe Dorinda had him in her dirt file because he spurned her advances. Maybe Steve is what Jazzy proclaimed: “a good catch.”

When Regan and Kit were alone for a moment at the table, Kit turned to her. “Isn’t he great? I can’t wait for Jack to meet him. I bet they will really get along.”

“I hope so,” Regan answered.

“As we’ve always said,” Kit noted with a smile, “we’d better end up with guys who like each other.”

Regan grinned. “That would help.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Steve take a sip and then give a little shake to his beer bottle. Clearly it was empty. He started to go inside.

Now’s my chance, Regan thought. She had purposely chosen to drink the same beer as Steve. She didn’t much like it, and even Kit had commented that she was surprised Regan had a beer. But she’d made a plausible excuse about how it felt good to drink beer in hot weather, nursed it, and now her bottle was empty. Regan leaned down to grab her purse. “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. Be right back.” With the beer bottle in one hand and her purse in the other, she made her way around all the people standing on the deck and into the house where more guests were milling in groups of three or four. She watched as Steve put his empty beer bottle on the kitchen counter and then turned to talk to someone who announced he was leaving.

Regan took a deep breath. She slowly ambled past the counter, put down her bottle, and picked up Steve’s. Two seconds later she was in the hallway heading for the bathroom. She passed the bedroom where Mark and Paul were staying. “Can you believe crazy Stevie has all this? I wish I’d gotten kicked out of college,” Mark joked as he stepped out into the hallway.

Regan slipped into the spacious, luxurious marble bathroom and shut the door behind her. She carefully locked it, then put her purse on the counter. Exhaling a sigh of relief, she pulled a dark plastic bag out of her purse, dropped the beer bottle into it, and then carefully put it back inside. She combed her hair, freshened her lipstick, and figured out a game plan. Any reservations she had about checking out Steve Yardley had vanished.

Back out on the deck, she sat with Kit for a few minutes and then said, “I’m kind of tired. It’s been a long day. If you don’t mind, I’ll call a cab and head back.”

“Regan, are you sure?” Kit asked with a look of concern.

“Yes. Definitely.”

“I feel a little guilty that we’re not spending time alone.”

“Kit, it’s fine. I was working today anyway. You have fun. I’ll see you later.”

Steve came up behind them.

“Regan’s leaving. Can you call her a cab?”

Steve put his arm around Regan, his hand brushing the side of her bag which was still over her shoulder. “Aren’t you having fun?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye. He looked down at Kit. “Doesn’t your friend like me?”

Regan smiled. “It’s jet lag. I’ll go home and get my beauty sleep so I can stay up late at the Princess Ball tomorrow night.”

“We’re going to have a good time at the ball,” Steve predicted. “Kit’s going to be my princess.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss. Standing back up he looked into Regan’s eyes. “And I can’t wait to meet your prince.”