Haole Wood

by DeTarsio, Dee

  “What are you doing?” Shayna asked, her knobby elbows jutting out from her folded arms.

  “Come out here.” I said. “Just put this on. See how it feels. You need to know this is something really special. Almost magical. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  Shayna dragged the tops of her feet in flip-flops over the grass, walking to me like she was entering math class on the day of the algebra final. I knew that move well. Subversive insolence, ah, one of my favorites.

  “Come here.” I smiled as I tossed the wrap over Shayna’s shoulders. “There. How do you feel?”

  “Like a dork.”

  “Pfft. The sun is hot today. How does this feel on your body? Can you feel the sun?”

  “Guess not.”

  “You look pretty in it, too.”

  Shayna didn’t have to say it but I heard it anyway, “So stupid.”

  The screen door creaked as the other ladies made their way outside. “I want each of you to try this on, right here, out in the sun and tell me what you think.

  “You’re gonna pay us, right?” Lois said.

  “If we can all work together, we’ll all make money. First things first. I want you to want to do this. Please, try it on.”

  Pursing her Hawaiian lips, Lois took the wrap from her daughter and put it over her own shoulders. Her brown arms crossed and rested over her stomach. “Now what? What am I supposed to be feeling?”

  I sighed and took the wrap back and put it on myself.

  “Nani ka wahine,” said Mary One or Mary Two. I couldn’t tell them apart.

  “What?”

  “They think you’re pretty,” Shayna said.

  “Oh. Thank you.” I nodded and smiled.

  “So, what’s your deal?” Shayna asked. “Do you have a business model? What’s the plan?”

  “Well.” I felt my eyes blink blink. Live-shot time. Pretend I’m on TV and work it. “This all happened suddenly and unexpectedly.” Some might call it a train wreck with destiny. “You might call it serendipitous.” I forced my hand, which made a fist and crept up toward my mouth as if it were holding a microphone, back to my side. “As you can see, I have really white skin.” They all laughed, even though they did cover their mouths. “I got sunburned and my grandmother made me this wrap. I love it. It looks great, dresses up any outfit and goes with just about anything. The bonus, it keeps me shaded.” I flung my arms wide holding the ends of the wrap, its jade beads clanking. “I have research working on clinical trials to see what the sun protection factor is.”

  “Dr. Jac’s buddy is checking it out,” Lois told the others.

  I smiled. Nice how everyone knows everything on this island, except for who killed Mike Hokama. “Yes, he is. So, what do you think?”

  “Pali ke kua, mahina kea lo,” Lois said as the women laughed. I stood there clueless.

  Shayna shook her head. “They’re teasing you about Dr. Jac. ‘Back as straight as a cliff, face as bright as the moon,’” she translated. “That’s an old Hawaiian saying for hot guy.”

  I cleared my throat and clapped my hands. “Back to business. I think there are a lot of ways we can market these sunshminas, and I think there is a real demand, but I need to know if you all are interested in being a part of this. It may go nowhere,” I added. “There are no guarantees.”

  “Girl,” Lois said. “If you keep talking so much your tongue is going to get sunburned.” She plopped her hands on her ample hips and gave a little hula swagger. The women laughed together. I pressed my lips together. Lois rubbed her palms together. “I’m the supervisor,” Lois said. “Your grandmother readies the fabric with kukui nut oil. We sew it. You sell it.” Lois pointed her finger at me.

  “Fair deal,” I said. “We’ll work out payment after our first weekend and come up with fair wages.”

  “One more thing,” Lois said. “Shayna is the designer.”

  Shayna jutted out her lower jaw, daring me to disagree. I swallowed and gave out an “Okay.” What did I have to lose?

  Lois turned after a final stare down with me. She turned to Shayna and shook her head. “There but for the Grace of God go I.” Shayna laughed and they all trooped back inside.

  “Shayna,” I said. “Wait a minute. How old are you?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Seeings how you are going to be the designer of my clothing company, I think I need to know that, you know, for my personnel records.”

  “I’m fourteen, going on fifteen. Yes, I can draw. Can sew too, if I feel like it, which I usually don’t.”

  “Have you ever . . .” I felt foolish going on, picturing a young smiling version of Shayna playing with badly stitched felt outfits, dressing her dark-haired Hawaiian Barbies. “Have you ever designed clothes before?”

  “Have you?” she asked.

  “Well, I guess we have our work cut out for us,” I said, not answering her.

  “Relax, boss.” Shayna turned and stomped up the porch steps.

  “Wait,” I called out again.

  “What?”

  “You probably heard about the,” I paused. “Mike Hokama—”

  “The murder? Of course. He’s our cousin.”

  “Your cousin? I am so sorry. Were you close?”

  Shayna teetered her hand up and down. “We’re all cousins. Besides, he was an asshole. Even though he didn’t deserve that.”

  “No, he didn’t. And I’m sure they’ll find the killer. It’s just such a shame.”

  The screen door slammed behind Shayna. My mission felt impossible.

  Chapter 20

  What Would Dean Koontz Do?

  Just as the trade winds began to usher in Maui’s summer season with constant breezes that should have helped keep me calm, cool and collected, I felt the fine hairs on the nape of my neck prickle, as if Kona winds instead blew stormy skies to swamp me.

  I followed Shayna and the others to the back bedroom. It really stung to be on the receiving end of Lois’s pity. How pathetic did they think I was? How would they ever listen to me or work for me if they didn’t respect me, and what I could offer. What could I offer again?

  “What’s the plan?” Lois asked.

  Trying to prove I had it together, I started babbling once again. “We’ll start with the sunshmina pattern. It’s quite simple. If you all can get twenty sewn by Sunday morning, I will sell them at the resorts and have a better handle on our production schedule.”

  What should I pay them? There were five of them, I could do fifty dollars a sunshmina and let Lois divvy it up? I made the suggestion as if I were back in San Diego announcing a cool front moving in offshore, and Lois bought it. That would give me and my grandmother two hundred fifty dollars for each one sold. I couldn’t imagine selling all twenty, but if we did . . . oh boy. Five thousand dollars. Well, less than half that after splitting profits with the hotel.

  I opened the closet and pulled out a roll of each of the four different colors, the greenish gold, pinkish bronze, blue with sliver and the red. I continued my spiel in a voice announcing nothing but sunshine. “We can do a variety, five wraps in each color.” I leaned the bolts against the corner and reached for the red fabric. I unrolled a few feet of the carnelian material and shimmied it under the light at the window. “Just look how this fabric coruscates in the sunlight.”

  Shayna snorted. “So now you’re Dean Koontz? Don’t even try.”

  Tough crowd. I cleared my throat. My face felt like it matched the fabric. “Look how pretty the sheen is, it almost sparkles.”

  I had read a Dean Koontz novel on the flight over to Maui from San Diego, and maybe subconsciously I did try to incorporate some high-fallutin’ vocabulary. It was actually more conscious than that so I could show them how smart I am. Busted by Shayna. Just what would Mr. Koontz do right about now? There wouldn’t be a guardian angel. There would be some kick-ass carnage and maybe a clown, or two. He’d probably have some super-dog show up and sniff out the real killer and lead me to safe
ty and my one true love. I sighed.

  “What’s your company called?” Shayna asked.

  “Hollywood Haute,” I answered, trying to remember what it had been like when I was fourteen, and trying to like Shayna in spite of it. I couldn’t understand why everyone laughed.

  “That’s a really stupid name,” Shayna said. “That all you got?”

  “Well, I think it’s kind of glamorous sounding, you know, like in a haute couture, specially-designed, custom made, snooty kind of way. And then the haute plays off of hot, like heat, from the sun.” My hands made a twirling motion, as if that would make the name easier for them to swallow.

  “If you say so,” Lois said.

  “Wait a minute,” Shayna said. “I don’t think anyone will get the hot part.”

  “Well, either way,” I said, meaning shut it, that’s what I named my company, deal with it.

  “Seriously?” Shayna looked at me like I had lost my mind. If only she knew. I thought she and my guardian angel would get along swell together, they could both gang up on me.

  “What’s not to get?”

  “I just think you should keep it simple.”

  “As do I,” I answered in a bossy tone.

  “Good job, Shayna,” said her mom, squeezing her with a quick hug around her shoulders. “Shayna can design the labels and we can make those up, too, and sew them onto the wraps.”

  “Great. Thanks, Lois. I hope this will be fun and profitable for all of us.”

  “Sure. We’ll be back tomorrow and work as soon as the sun comes up. I’ll bring my sewing machine. You can go get some thread, and sequins or something that we can use when we put the beading on the ends.”

  “I can do that,” I said.

  “Mary and Mary will sew,” Lois continued. “Marie will help me cut the patterns and get them ready, and your grandmother,” she nodded her head respectfully at Halmoni, “will prepare the fabric.” She spoke a few melodious Hawaiian words to my grandmother who clasped her hands and beamed. “Shayna will help with the beading, the labels and come up with new designs. We’ll have your twenty shawls by end of day tomorrow.”

  “Sunshminas,” I gently suggested.

  Lois waved her hand as she headed for the door. “Hollywood,” she added, shaking her head.

  “Why doesn’t anyone like that name?”

  Shayna was the last one out and stopped and turned to me. “Listen. I know you’re in charge and my mom may give you a hard time, but she’s a really hard worker. So are Mary, Mary and Maria.” Shayna shrugged her shoulders. “And like, you should know, they need the money. My mom was Mike Hokama’s housekeeper.”

  “What? Lois worked for Mike Hokama?”

  Shayna nodded.

  “In his house?”

  “That’s usually where housework is done.”

  “I need to talk to her about this. She might know something.”

  “You can try, but she wasn’t there.”

  “She may have a clue. I’ve got to find out.”

  “Good. Ask her anything you want. If you’re paying her, she’ll tell you anything you want to know.” Shayna bit on a fingernail. “Money is tight for everyone. The others used to work up in Ka’anapali but all the resorts have cut back on their staff and hired younger workers so they don’t have to pay them as much. All the jobs on this island are pretty much tourist related. They’re all hard workers and I hope you can keep them working.”

  “Thanks for telling me Shayna, I’ll try.” I didn’t have enough to worry about before, I thought, as I headed out to talk to Lois.

  “Yeah, and I want to go to college,” Shayna added, following close behind me.

  Chapter 21

  Forty-Eight Hours

  “Lois?” I hurried up to the car.

  Lois rolled down her window and rolled up her eyebrows.

  “I know Mike Hokama was your cousin, and I’m very sorry about his death.” I tried to catch my breath. “Shayna just told me you were his housekeeper. Please. Do you have any idea who could have killed him?”

  Lois began shaking her head before I even finished my sentence. “Like I told the police. He was a regular guy. Had some friends, had some enemies. I didn’t see anything strange, he wasn’t acting funny. It was business as usual. I also told the police there was no way your grandmother could have done it.”

  “Thanks for that,” I said.

  Lois shifted her car into reverse.

  “Wait. What about Lana?”

  Lois laughed. “No way. Lana may be a lot of things, but she’s not a murderer. Those two.” Lois shook her head. “They loved each other. I’m sure they would have ended up together.”

  After they left, I headed out to the fabric store to get supplies, and then stopped by the attorney’s office.

  “Hi, O’Boyle.”

  “Nothin’ new.” He sighed and fell back into his office chair. “They questioned several people, but they all have alibis.”

  “Who did they talk to?”

  “They’ve talked to Mike’s ex-girlfriend, Lana, but she was singing that night. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t have done it. We can cross her off the list.”

  “Why cross her off? Why couldn’t she have done it? Why does everyone keep saying that? Why is it so impossible for Lana to have killed him? Isn’t it usually the boyfriend or girlfriend? I bet she did do it. I’ve seen her and she looks quite capable of masterminding this. What if Mike was trying to mess up her career, or, wouldn’t marry her? There are tons of reasons why she could have killed him. A crime of passion. It happens all the time. This is the perfect murder mystery. It has everything, pretty people, money, a great location.” I lowered my voice into a narrator’s drone, “Murderrrrrr in Mauiiiii—passion, poison, and . . .” I paused, well, I don’t know, pina coladas. “O’Boyle, can’t we check this out more? How can people just wave her aside and not treat her like an honest to goodness suspect?”

  “She didn’t do it. She’s clean. She was singing in Lahaina during the hours they pinpointed his death. Hundreds of people saw her. She’s been helpful. Poor kid is really torn up by his death.”

  Et tu, O’Boyle? I thought, as he spared precious extra syllables for St. Lana.

  “What else?” I asked him.

  “Former business partner sued him for commission on a deal they had done. He does big infomercials for how to get rich selling real estate. He calls his TV program The Eve of Achi?” He quirked his eyebrow at me. “Like everyone is on the brink of getting rich? Achieve?”

  I sounded it out. “Achieve? He did it,” I said.

  “He was on the mainland at the time and hadn’t seen Mike for weeks.”

  “Who else?”

  “The police gave me a list of everyone who had been seen going into and out of his house the week leading up to his death. They’ve questioned them all, from the gardener, to the driver he occasionally hired, to the housekeeper.”

  “The housekeeper came up clean?” I asked. I had to double-check.

  He leafed through a few papers. “Lois Somebody. Yes. She checked out.”

  “What about Diane Clary? She’s the tourist who bought my sun wraps. Have you heard about her? She said she had a deal going with Mike.”

  “She’s been cleared, too. She had no motive, since she needed him alive to get their deal to go through. I think they were trying to buy one hundred fifty acres near Hana, where Oprah has a place. Now that he’s dead, Diane will have a hard time pushing that through without his influence.”

  “Yes, but maybe they had an argument over money or something and she had him whacked.”

  “Jaswinder,” he said. At least he knew my name. “I have been exploring every lead.”

  “What about Oprah? Maybe she didn’t want Mike Hokama and whatever he planned to build to be her neighbor?”

  Looong pause. “While I’m sure it would have been a concern, do you really think Oprah Winfrey killed Mike Hokama?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Mrs
. Park continues to be the prime suspect, and her preliminary trial has been set for two days from now.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, my spine tingled as if it were made of shave ice crystals.

  “It’s where they determine if there’s enough evidence to send her case to trial. I have to prepare you both, it looks like there is. Also, they will probably revoke her bail because they think she’d be a flight risk.”

  “O’Boyle, she is being framed. Who would have to gain from A. Mike’s death, and B. My grandmother taking the fall?”

  “Don’t know. I have a PI checking out some of the names.” I didn’t say anything and eyeballed him until he was forced to look up at me. The poor man looked miserable, like he wasn’t used to not knowing.

  “There’s something I just can’t put my finger on,” I said. “I saw the photos. I believe my grandmother was there with her teas and herbs to help Mike, which she admits, but something’s just not right. I can’t figure it out, it’s like I’m missing a clue.”

  “If you think of anything, let me know.”

  And with that touching goodbye scene, I got up and left. I headed home and hung out for awhile with Halmoni. I finally told her good night, even though I was positive I would never sleep. I felt hopped up on Kona coffee, with sunshmina plans swirling into solving Mike Hokama’s murder. How I yearned to harness caffeine’s powers for good. I let my parents believe if I ever had a daughter that’s what I was going to name her, Caffeine. It starts to sound really pretty around the three hundredth time of saying it. My parents didn’t get me at all. Besides, look what they named me. If caffeine could unlock the hidden treasures in my brain, I would be a very rich woman, indeed. I would stop saying words like indeed. I would have the superpower to get by in life on only four hours of sleep, instead of the seven hours okay-but-still-cranky vs. eight hours now-you’re-talking vs. the sad reality of I only feel human if I get nine hours of sleep. I punched my pillow. Caffeine fantasies were the least of my problems, as I was about to find out.