“Why?”
“Insurance,” he said.
“Insurance for what?”
“She said she would help get me established. But every time I pressed her about it, she would just laugh and walk away. After a while I figured she was just using me. You know, for the sex.”
“So you killed her for using you?” I asked.
“I didn’t kill nobody.”
“So Nick James put you up to it. He hated Lauren even more than you did.”
“Fuck you man. I didn’t kill nobody.”
George stood up and stormed out of the restaurant.
By this point, everyone in the restaurant was looking my way. I sat there with my head in my hands. A few minutes later the waitress from the other night approached the table. She was putting her apron on, and she had a huge smile on her face. Apparently she hadn’t witnessed the ugly scene between George and I.
“Hello, again, will Alana be joining you for lunch?” she asked.
“No, just me.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Not really. You know, I don’t think I’ll be having anything to eat. I lost my appetite.”
I left the restaurant and started the long drive back to Foxx’s house. Okay, I’ll be the first to admit that things didn’t go exactly as I’d planned. George seemed pretty flustered, and if he was lying to me, he had done an incredible acting job, worthy of an Academy Award or at least a People’s Choice.
Maybe George really did find the photographs in Lauren’s studio. Maybe I was obsessing over the photographs. Okay, not maybe, I was definitely obsessing over them. Maybe they had absolutely nothing to do with Lauren’s death. My thoughts drifted back to Nick James. My initial instincts had told me Nick had killed Lauren, and I’d established the fact that Nick and George knew each other. But how was I going to catch Nick and/or George? My head was spinning as I tried to sort through all the facts and all the suspicions.
Once again I had reached a dead end, and once again my cell phone rang. Was God helping me out again?
It was Sally.
“Poe, I’ve got great news! I’m getting married!”
“You’re getting married? To who?”
“To William, silly. This morning he got back from his trip to Oahu. Said he couldn’t stop thinking about me the whole time he was there. He said he can’t live without me.”
“So he asked you to marry him?”
“Yes!” she screamed and broke out into a chorus of giggles. I could easily picture her on the other end of the phone jumping up and down. I certainly hoped the tree house wouldn’t collapse under her.
“Where are you going to live Sally?”
“In the tree house, of course.”
“But I thought you didn’t like living there,” I said.
“Well, I didn’t. But William said I could redecorate it if I wanted. So guess what I did this morning.”
“I have no idea.” I was quickly losing enthusiasm for this conversation.
“I went to the K-Mart by the airport and picked out a couple of gallons of Martha Stewart’s paint. I selected a soft green for the walls. I’m thinking of a cream or a pale yellow for the curtains. What do you think?”
I was speechless. My initial impression of Sally was that she was a big-busted bimbo. But then she surprised me with her perceptive insights during our lunch date. Then, of course, there was the night of passion in the tree house. But now she had reverted back into the role of the bimbo. Had she always been a bimbo, and I just forgot about it when she was throwing her charms my way? Was my ego that easily swayed? Apparently.
“Sally, are you sure you want to marry William? I mean his divorce just got finalized. Plus he’s up to his eyeballs in dept.”
As soon as I said this I immediately regretted it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, and for some reason keep forgetting, is that people don’t want advice once they’ve made up their minds that what they’re doing is good, even if all evidence points to the contrary. Sally’s good mood immediately changed. Wouldn’t yours have, too?
“I’m surprised at you, Poe. I didn’t think you the jealous type.”
“The jealous type?” I asked.
“It’s obvious you’re jealous of William. Can’t you just be happy for us?”
There was no way to win this argument. Plus I really did care if I won it or not. So I bowed out gracefully. “You’re right, Sally. I apologize. I hope that you and William have a wonderful marriage. Have you set a date yet for the wedding?”
Her mood went back to its chipper self.
“Not yet. But I hope you can make it back to Maui for the event.”
“I hope so, too.”
Dumped again, I thought. But could I be dumped when I really wasn’t in a relationship? I guess not. Still, it was a little painful to have lost out to an overweight, broke sculptor who lives in a tree house. Nevertheless, I had been thinking earlier today that I needed a graceful way to exit from my emerging connection to Sally. William’s proposal had saved me the trouble. I thought about calling the lawyer and telling him he should prepare another lease on William’s house. I couldn’t see that marriage lasting beyond three months. Jealousy? I didn’t think so. But maybe.
I was tired and pissed off and sick as hell of the one hour drive between Paia and Kaanapali. Who would have thought I’d be spending so much time in a car on Maui?
I was quickly approaching the beach where all the windsurfers gather. I thought about stopping and snapping off some photographs to ease my stress and anxiety. But I was getting blurry-eyed and decided to get back to Foxx’s as early as possible.
They say tired drivers are just as dangerous as intoxicated ones. Right now I was definitely feeling like a hazard to my health and others’. Thank God it wasn’t dark yet because this part of the Hana Highway had some dangerous curves and if you misjudged them you weren’t going anywhere but down a cliff and into the ocean.
I heard the distinctive sound of a motorcycle engine revving just in time to see George whip by me. He threw something at the Explorer, I think it was a rock, that smashed into the windshield, blinding my vision, not to mention scaring the living you-know-what out of me. My instinct was to slam on the brakes, which I did. Unfortunately for me, George had timed his rock toss perfectly, meaning it hit the SUV right as I was about to go into one of those dangerous curves I was talking about just a few sentences ago.
For any Ford executives out there, I’m now officially making it known that I’m more than willing to make an on-camera testimonial on the effectiveness of Ford’s antilock brake system. The Explorer came to a halt with both front tires dangling over the edge of the cliff. Another foot or two and I’m certain I would not be alive to write this tale for you.
I felt like the coyote in the Road Runner cartoons, hanging on the edge of the rock precipice, wondering if a small bird would land on the hood of the Explorer and provide the one necessary pound of weight that would cause the SUV to tip into my doom.
But nothing happened but me, gently, oh so gently, opening the door and slipping out of the Explorer. I didn’t even shut the door, afraid that the sound or pressure would act in the same way as the bird on the hood.
I sat down several feet from the vehicle to catch my breath and curse the existence of George. I thought about running after him but realized it was hopeless. Instead I fished out my AAA card from my wallet and called for a tow.
I have no interest in making testimonials for AAA. Although they called me back within fifteen minutes of my initial call letting me know a tow truck was on its way, it was at least two and a half hours before the truck actually showed up. I guess the driver was on Hawaiian time, as the locals like to say. He took one look at the Ford Explorer hanging over the edge of the cliff and immediately remarked how lucky I was to be alive. Even though I told him I knew I was, he still felt the need to tell me another five times, as if I didn’t get what he was saying. After he pulled the SUV back to th
e shoulder of the road, and declared it fit for the road, he took down my AAA information, and I was on my way.
I don’t know if it was fate or just plain dumb luck, but as I passed the K-Mart I happened to glance to my left at the exact moment a car pulled out of a parking space, revealing a shiny black motorcycle on the outskirts of the parking lot. I jerked the steering wheel to the left, almost causing a multiple car pile up.
I walked past the obnoxious Hawaiian shirts and the chocolate covered macadamia nuts twice before I finally stumbled upon George in the music section of the store. I didn’t tap him on the shoulder and calmly inquire why he tried to force me off the road and over a cliff. It was my full intention to punch him as hard as I could in the kidneys. But he must have heard my hasty footsteps because he turned my way a second before I swung.
So I punched him in the face instead, sending him sprawling across K-Mart’s selection of R&B CDs. George hit the floor with a thud, and I was able to kick him in the ribs a few times before two K-Mart employees managed to restrain me. After spitting blood out of his mouth, George threatened to call the police and have me arrested for assault. I welcomed him to, informing him that I would be more than happy to press charges for attempted murder.
The poor store clerks, neither of whom looked to be out of high school yet, had no idea what to do with either of us. I demanded to be let go, promising not to assault George again. I don’t know if they were afraid I might turn on them next or if they were just hoping I might walk away and rid them of this mess, but they cautiously released me and took a few steps backwards. For a few seconds I actually felt something like a badass.
George diverted his eyes from mine, maybe thinking I wouldn’t attack him again if he wasn’t looking at me. I thought about hurling a few final insults his way, but as the old saying goes, you never think of the great lines until ten minutes after the fact.
I left K-mart, not at all ashamed of my actions, but sorry that those poor minimum-wage clerks would have to clean up the mess I made of the entertainment section. Hey, I’ve worked retail, too. Believe me, it sucks.
CHAPTER 28
World’s Most Famous Confessions, Caught on Video
When I returned to Foxx’s home I found a package from Nakia on the front doorstep. It was filled with several DVDs and a note:
“Dear Poe, these DVDs are copies of all our unedited interviews with the artists. I still can’t believe Lauren’s gone. It scares me even more to think that perhaps I interviewed the killer. I don’t know if these videos will be of any assistance, but I feel the need to help in any way I can. Good luck with your search. Sincerely, Nakia.”
What is it about television that makes perfectly intelligent, reasonable human beings act like complete nincompoops? Perhaps I’m wrong to assume they’re intelligent and reasonable to begin with. Maybe they’ve always been nincompoops, and the camera just captures the truth. Television certainly has gone down hill these last several years. That is, if you could actually say it was ever uphill to begin with. I had originally applauded Nakia’s and Wayne’s efforts to create a show based on artists’ unique points of view. But after watching the interviews I came to realize that artists were just as loony as the craziest person you’ll ever see on Real Housewives of whatever city they happen to be in.
With a pencil and paper in hand, I spent the next several hours going through all of the videos. I won’t bore you by transcribing everything I heard. But the following were particularly interesting or humorous revelations.
The first one I watched contained video footage of Xavier. Nakia and Wayne spent a great deal of time shooting Xavier playing the flute, as well as painting in his sun-filled studio a top the stone pyramid.
The actual interview didn’t begin until the second DVD. Xavier spent a full thirty minutes discussing his love of the ocean and how it inspires him to paint. It wasn’t until the third video when things started to really get interesting. Probably my favorite Xavier moment was when he started talking about his love of all things Egypt.
Nakia: Let’s talk about your home. What inspired you to build and live in a pyramid?
Xavier: It’s really quite simple. I am the reincarnation of Ramses II.
Should I have expected anything different from a man with an Egyptian tattoo on his forehead and a beard like the Sphinx? His casual proclamation would have made me laugh out loud, but Nakia did a remarkable job of keeping her composure. Maybe she was used to people saying nutty things during interviews. She didn’t miss a beat.
Nakia: And how do you know that?
Xavier: You’ll notice that much of my work is of alien worlds. I believe that we as human beings, as a race of people, come from the planet Arcon.
Nakia: Arcon? Where is this planet?
Xavier: Arcon orbits the far-right star in Orion’s belt. Ever since I was a boy, I’ve had visions of this other world. The Arconians colonized Earth. They brought with them their culture, their science. How else do you explain some of the astounding achievements of man’s past? How was it the Egyptians could build the mighty pyramids? We today have no concept of how they moved the one-hundred ton blocks of stone.
Nakia: So the Arconians came to Earth, built the pyramids, and then left?
Xavier: They left because as a people they were growing corrupt on this new world. Think of the great flood mentioned in the Bible.
Nakia: You’re referring to the story of Noah?
Xavier: Yes. I believe the great flood story is a symbolic tale of the Arconians destroying the sin and depravity that was existing on this world. They were far from their home world, far from their laws and their police. It was quite natural that things might change for them. So the righteous left Earth and returned to Arcon.
Nakia: So when you say you were Ramses II in another life, does that not mean you were from Arcon?
Xavier: The initial pharaohs were from Arcon. But by my time as ruler of Egypt they had all left. I was born of this Earth and each time I return in another life I come back here. As does my wife, Gina.
Nakia: Have you traced Gina back to Egypt?
Xavier: Yes. I first saw Gina in this life at an art festival in Lahaina. Gina had a small booth where she was selling some of her sculptures. Interestingly enough, they were very Egyptian-like in design. As soon as I laid eyes on her I recognized her as my queen Nefertiti.
Nakia: Did you just go up to her and tell her this?
Xavier: Yes.
Nakia: What was her reaction?
Xavier: Rejoicing, of course. In Egypt we had vowed to never part. During each life we would not be content until we found the other. She knew that her life was missing a key element, as did I. It wasn’t until we found each other that we were whole again.
It was at this point that something interesting happened. I heard a voice I had not expected to hear on the tapes, but one I was very familiar with.
George: Nakia, you might want to ask Xavier about the way he built this pyramid. I’ve heard he did it himself.
Nakia: Is that true, Xavier?
Xavier: Yes, every stone in this structure was lifted by me.
Nakia: How?
Xavier: By levitation. I levitated the stones into place with the power of my mind.
And people thought art was boring. We’ve all heard that many artists are eccentric, but Xavier certainly took the cake, maybe the whole bakery. Can you imagine Gina’s surprise when a guy looking like the Sphinx walks up to her at an art show and tells her that she’s the reincarnation of a long dead queen and that they are destined to be married? Apparently, the line worked, because damned if they didn’t get married after all.
As a side note, I went to a religious-based university for my graduate schooling. I remember a few of my male classmates approaching women on campus and telling them that God had told them they were supposed to ask the women out. At first, I thought it was a bad joke. But amazingly the technique worked nine times out of ten. I never knew if the men actually believed what t
hey were saying, or if it was just a slick manipulation of the realities of existing in a religious organization.
How is a woman supposed to respond to a man telling her God has ordained their date on Saturday night? Say that God doesn’t know what he’s talking about? And if she denies the guy’s story, isn’t she dismissing the notion that God talks to people through dreams and such? Doesn’t that go against everything the Bible says? It’s amazing some of the crap you can get away with on a religious-based campus. That line would never fly anywhere else. I know, because I tried it. Just kidding. Maybe.
Xavier’s interview proved to me what a nutcase he was, but of course I didn’t need any more proof than I already had. The reason I printed it here, beyond its pure entertainment value, was to show that George was present during this interview. Why was he there? What was or is his connection to Xavier?
I called Nakia at the cell phone number she provided. Her phone rang a couple of times before I realized I was calling way too late. I forgot about the significant time difference between Hawaii and Virginia.
“Hello,” she said, sounding like I had indeed awaken her.
“Nakia, it’s me, Poe. I’m so sorry for calling you this late. I forgot about the time difference.”
“It’s okay. My body clock’s messed up anyway. Spending a couple of weeks in Hawaii will do that to you,” she said.
“First let me say thanks for sending me those videos.”
“So you got them. Good.”
“Listen, I just got through the interview with Xavier,” I said.
“All four hours of it?” she asked.
“Yeah, the guy’s definitely long-winded.”
“But interesting. He was probably my favorite interview.”
“Listen, something odd happened when I was listening to the video. I thought I heard George’s voice.”
“You probably did. We hired George as a grip on the shoots.”
“What’s a grip?” I asked.
“Basically it’s someone who helps carry equipment and set up the lights. That sort of thing. We couldn’t afford to fly another crew member out with us. So we asked the artists if they knew of anyone who could help us. Bernard recommended George.”
Aloha Means Goodbye Page 14