Page 48 of Tiki Beach
“Dang it.” I wasn’t going to be able to play lady of leisure after all; my brain was too busy. I slipped out of bed and into Keone’s robe, which hung on the back of the bedroom door. It was loose on me, but it was soft and carried his scent—a comforting blend of soap and man.
In the kitchen, I found Mr. K at the stove, flipping Portuguese sausage in a cast-iron skillet. A bowl of fresh papaya slices sat on the counter alongside a plate of toasted sweet bread.
“Morning.” Mr. K greeted me with a smile as he cracked eggs into the sausage grease. A whiff of fatty fabulousness hit my nose. “Coffee’s ready. Sleep okay?”
I stepped close to slip my arms around his waist and kiss his slightly bristly jaw. “You know I did. Thanks to a couple of rounds of physical therapy, as you called it.”
“And here I thought I was keeping you from developing traumatic memories of the bed breaking and dumping us on the floor,” Keone said.
“A noble effort.” I detached, and poured myself a cup of coffee, adding a splash of coconut milk from the refrigerator. I sniffed the air as Mr. K stirred the contents of the skillet. “And you already know, the way to this woman’s heart is through her stomach.”
“I’m working every angle,” he said. “Are you ready to move in yet?”
“Ha.” I smiled, settling onto a stool at the kitchen counter. Despite the stress of the case, this domestic moment felt surprisingly right—as if we were glimpsing what life might be like if I took the leap and moved in permanently. “Keep up the good work, babe. I’ll let you know.”
Keone transferred the sausage slices to a serving plate covered in paper towels. “Lei called while you were asleep. Kawika’s condition has improved. They’re talking about releasing him if his MRI looks good. Pearl’s improved too.”
“That’s good news,” I said.
“I got the impression Lei’s hoping we might talk to him. Says he’s been asking about the case.”
“Then we should visit him at the hospital. Pearl too,” I said. “I’d like to check on them both.”
“Sounds like a good activity for a Sunday. We can take the project plane into town again.” Keone set a plate of food in front of me: Portuguese sausage, eggs, papaya, and sweet bread toast—the perfect Hawaiian breakfast. “Lei also mentioned that the manager of First Hawaiian Bank left her a message. Something about Pearl’s safety deposit box.”
“What safety deposit box?” I frowned.
“Apparently the manager recognized Pearl’s name from the news about her poisoning. When he heard she was hospitalized, he contacted Lei because of some recent activity involving her box.”
“What does that mean?” I spoke through bulging cheeks as I dug into the delicious breakfast.
“That’s what we’re going to find out when Lei does,” Keone said, joining me at the counter with his own plate. “She said they were meeting first thing Monday morning at the bank.”
“Too bad we’ve both got work or we could join her,” I said.
We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the clink of cutlery against plates and the distant crash of waves outside. It was a peaceful moment, like the calm at the eye of a hurricane—a brief respite before returning to the swirling chaos of our investigation.
“This feels nice,” I said quietly, not quite meeting his eyes. “Waking up here. Breakfast together, like this.”
Keone’s hand covered mine on the counter. “It could be like this more often, you know.”
“I know,” I acknowledged. “And I’m . . . working on it. Being here is a step in that direction.”
“A step at a time works for me.” He smiled, but his eyes were a little sad.
My heart flopped like a gaffed fish. I stopped the sensation with a mouthful of Portuguese sausage. “We better get going. This case isn’t going to solve itself.”
14
After breakfast, we dressed and headed for the airport after making sure Ilima was well chaperoned by her minions.
The comfortable domestic bubble of the morning gave way to seriousness; but there was no way not to find the plane ride from Hana to Kahului in Keone’s little aircraft anything but enchanting.
The morning was still, bright and clear, the kind of perfect Maui day that made air travel close to the rugged, green bluffs and valleys of the east side of the island especially stunning. I leaned my forehead on the window and watched for whales in the aqua-blue ocean below as we flew alongside velvety cliffs and waterfalls.
Maui Memorial Medical Center in Kahului felt different on a Sunday—less frantic than during our last visit, though the police presence remained. Officer Palakiko nodded to us in recognition from his position near the entrance before directing us to Kawika’s new room on the regular medical floor.
While we were on our way, Lei texted that the meeting at the bank had been moved up to today; she had prevailed upon the manager to come in and meet her on the premises due to the urgency of the case. “Join me if you can,” her text read. I texted back that we’d try.
