Kawaihae Bay was beautiful, and the clifftop view from Upolu Point was breathtaking. On the way back down the coast we stopped at a two-hundred-year-old temple built by King Kamehameha, and at the white-sand Hapuna Beach, where Jan fed the remains of our picnic to the dozens of stray cats that lived there. It was after five when we got back to Kailua Kona.
The Archersons insisted again that we have dinner with them and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So we stayed at the Kolekole long enough to change clothes and then went out to a restaurant that specialized in luau-style roast pork. And when we were finished eating, back we went to the hotel and up to their suite. They had a private terrace and it was the perfect place, Brenda said, to watch one of the glorious Hawaiian sunsets.
Larry brought out a bottle of Kahlua, and when he finished pouring drinks he raised his glass in another toast. “To our new aikane, Jan and Dick.”
“Aikane means good friends,” Brenda said.
Jan and I drank, but my heart wasn’t in it and I could tell that hers wasn’t either. The Archersons were wearing thin on both of us.
The evening was a reprise of yesterday’s: not too hot, with a soft breeze carrying the scent of exotic flowers. Surfers played on the waves offshore. The sunset was spectacular, with fiery reds and oranges, but it didn’t last long enough to suit me.
Brenda sighed elaborately as darkness closed down. “Almost the end of another perfect day. Time goes by so quickly out here, doesn’t it, Jan?”
“Yes it does.”
Larry said, “That’s why you have to get the most out of each day in paradise. So what’ll we do tomorrow? Head down to see the volcanoes, check out the lava flows?”
“There’s a road called Chain of Craters that’s wonderful,” Brenda said. “It goes right out over the flows and at the end there’s a place where you can actually walk on the lava. Parts of it are still hot!”
I said, “Yes, we’ve been looking forward to seeing the volcano area. But since you’ve already been there, I think we’ll just drive down by ourselves in the morning—”
“No, no, we’ll drive you down. We don’t mind seeing it all again, do we, Brenda?”
“I sure don’t. I’d love to see it again.”
“Larry, I don’t mean this to sound ungrateful, but Jan and I would really like some time to ourselves—”
“Look at that moon coming up, will you? It’s as big as a Halloween pumpkin.”
It was, but I couldn’t enjoy it now. I tried again to say my piece, and again he interrupted me.
“Nothing like the moons we get back home in Wisconsin,” he said. He put his arm around Brenda’s shoulders and nuzzled her neck. “Is it, pet? Nothing at all like a Wisconsin moon.”
She didn’t answer. Surprisingly, her face scrunched up and her eyes glistened and I thought for a moment she would burst into tears.
Jan said, “Why, Brenda, what’s the matter?”
“It’s my fault,” Larry said ruefully. “I used to call her that all the time, but since the accident... well, I try to remember not to, but sometimes it just slips out.”
“Call her what? Pet?”
He nodded. “Makes her think of her babies.”
“Babies? But I thought you didn’t have children.”
“We don’t. Brenda, honey, I’m sorry. We’ll talk about something else...”
“No, it’s all right.” She dried her eyes on a Kleenex and then said to Jan and me, “My babies were Lhasa apsos. Brother and sister — Hansel and Gretel.”
“Oh,” Jan said, “dogs.”
“Not just dogs — the sweetest, most gentle...” Brenda snuffled again. “I miss them terribly, even after six months.”
“What happened to them?”
“They died in the fire, the poor babies. We buried them at Shady Acres. That’s a nice name for a pet cemetery, don’t you think? Shady Acres?”
“What kind of fire was it?”
“That’s right, we didn’t tell you, did we? Our house burned down six months ago. Right to the ground while we were at a party at a friend’s place.”
“Oh, that’s awful. A total loss?”
“Everything we owned,” Larry said. “It’s a good thing we had insurance.”
“How did it happen?”
“Well, the official verdict was that Mrs. Cooley fell asleep with a lighted cigarette in her hand.”
I said, “Oh, so there was someone in the house besides the dogs. She woke up in time and managed to get out safely, this Mrs. Cooley?”
“No, she died too.”
Jan and I looked at each other.
“Smoke inhalation, they said. The way it looked, she woke up all right and tried to get out, but the smoke got her before she could. They found her by the front door.”
“Hansel and Gretel were trapped in the kitchen,” Brenda said. “She was so selfish — she just tried to save herself.”
Jan made a throat-clearing sound. “You sound as though you didn’t like this woman very much.”
“We didn’t. She was an old witch.”
“Then why did you let her stay in your house?”
“She paid us rent. Not much, just a pittance.”
“But if you didn’t like her—”
“She was my mother,” Brenda said.
Far below, on the lanai bar, the hotel musicians began to play ukuleles and sing a lilting Hawaiian song. Brenda leaned forward, listening, smiling dreamily. “That’s ‘Maui No Ka Oi,’ ” she said. “One of my all-time favorites.”
Larry was watching Jan and me. He said, “Mrs. Cooley really was an awful woman, no kidding. Mean, carping — and stingy as hell. She knew how much we wanted to start our catering business but she just wouldn’t let us have the money. If she hadn’t died in the fire... well, we wouldn’t be here with you nice folks. Funny the way things happen sometimes, isn’t it?”
Neither Jan nor I said anything. Instead we got to our feet, almost as one.
“Hey,” Larry said, “you’re not leaving?”
I said yes, we were leaving.
“But the night’s young. I thought maybe we’d go dancing, take in one of the Polynesian revues—”
“It’s been a long day.”
“Sure, I understand. You folks still have some jet lag too, I’ll bet. Get plenty of sleep and call us when you wake up, then we’ll all go have breakfast before we head for the volcanoes.”
They walked us to the door. Brenda said, “Sleep tight, you lovely people,” and then we were alone in the hallway.
We didn’t go to our room; instead we went to the small, quiet lobby bar for drinks we both badly needed. When the drinks came, Jan spoke for the first time since we’d left the Archersons. “My God,” she said, “I had no idea they were like that — so cold and insensitive under all that bubbly charm. Crying over a pair of dogs and not even a kind word for her mother. They’re actually glad the poor woman is dead.”
“More than glad. And much worse than insensitive.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
“You don’t think they—”
“That’s just what I think. What we both think.”
“Her own mother?”
“Yes. They arranged that fire somehow so Mrs. Cooley would be caught in it, and sacrificed their dogs so it would look even more like an accident.”
“For her money,” Jan said slowly. “So they could start their catering business?”
“Yes.”
“Dick... we can’t just ignore this. We’ve got to do something.”
“What would you suggest?”
“I don’t know, contact the police in Milwaukee...”
“And tell them what that can be proven? The Archersons didn’t admit anything incriminating to us. Besides, there must have been an investigation at the time. If there’d been any evidence against them, they wouldn’t have gotten Mrs. Cooley’s money and they wouldn’t be here celebrating.”