Murder on Mokulua Drive

by Burrows-Johnson, Jeanne;

  Ever the gentleman, Nathan was quick to invite Ben to join us for the Italian dinner he’d brought. “You don’t need to rush off. I brought plenty of food for everyone.”

  “I’d love to stay any other time. But by the time I return the truck, I’m barely going to make my hot date with Viki—she lives in that big old craftsman across from me.”

  “Whoa. What’s Viki got planned for tonight?” asked Keoni.

  “Who knows? With her creativity, it’s definitely not subject to questioning.”

  “Viki sounds like my kind of woman—leaving a few things to your imagination,” I commented. “But don’t be a stranger, Ben. You—with or without Viki—have a standing invitation anytime you’d like a swim or a little something from the grill.”

  While Keoni and Ben gathered up scattered furniture blankets and the hand truck, Nathan and I moved into the kitchen. After reheating a few items, we laid out a buffet on the island.

  “Believe it or not, Nathan, I have something to add to tonight’s feast—homemade potato salad.”

  “Now don’t try to pull a fast one on me. Isn’t that the container you were holding when I met Miriam and Joanne?” asked Nathan.

  “I cannot tell a lie. This is Joanne’s potato and macaroni salad, complete with slivered Maui onion.”

  By the time Keoni returned from seeing Ben off, it was time to eat. “That sounds wonderful, honey. And what all did you bring, Nathan?” Keoni asked, moving to the sink to wash his hands.

  “You don’t need to worry about anyone leaving the table hungry. As promised, I went by Zia’s and was inspired anew. I picked up some crusty calamari, a large portion of Tuscan chicken salad and some eggplant parmesan—which I think will complement the potato salad.”

  “And don’t forget that fabulous chocolate fudge cake we have left from last night,” I added.

  CHAPTER 4

  Home, home at last.

  Thomas Hood [1798 - 1845]

  As planned, by sunset we had filled our plates and settled around the table on the back lānai. We watched the approaching twilight with champagne glasses lifted in unison to celebrate Auntie Carrie’s life and thank her again for this lovely home.

  Looking at the remaining portion of Italian bread, Keoni noted, “I think that’ll make an excellent base for crostini or maybe bruschetta tomorrow. Some garlic, a little seasoning, a sprinkle of parmesan and Romano cheese, and we’ll be good to go.”

  “Sounds great, but right now, I’m simply relieved there are no dishes to wash.”

  “Getting a bit spoiled aren’t you,” Nathan said. “I saw that great new dishwasher. You won’t get any sympathy from me about doing the dishes—especially not with Keoni planning, if not doing, all the cooking for you.”

  “Hey, I’ve earned a break from Kitchen Patrol,” I said to Nathan. “Do you remember what it was like when we were kids? A lot of military housing didn’t have dishwashers, so Nathan and I flipped coins to see who would wash and even learn to cook.”

  Nathan looked at Keoni shaking his head. “I suggest you have a backup plan whenever she’s trying a new recipe. Did she ever tell you about the year she was in 4-H. Most of her food was awful, although she did win a blue ribbon at the county fair for her demonstration of making muffins.”

  “I’ll have you know I eventually perfected that recipe,” I countered. “The only problem was that I had to make it so many times, that I can’t stand the smell of corn muffins.”

  “Well, no matter who does the cooking, you’ve got a great setting for eating—indoors or out. Yes, this really is the life. You may not have the ocean lapping at your doorstep, but it’s a great beach home nonetheless.”

  Looking around, he continued. “I think you could really improve your ocean view if you trim the oleander hedges.”

  While I appreciated Nathan’s suggestion, I had one concern. “I’d only want them trimmed a bit, because we’re going to put in a hot tub and we don’t want to lose our privacy.”

  “That won’t even be on the agenda until I’ve finished extending and tiling the patio,” stated Keoni. “One project at a time’s my motto—or you end up with a mess everywhere.”

  We all groaned at the truism. Nathan yawned and announced it was time for him to go. Kūlia, his new mixed-breed dog, needed to go for a walk. After seeing him to his car and clearing the remains of our dinner, Keoni and I went back outside to enjoy the evening sky. I sat down on the porch swing and Keoni sank into one of our new patio rockers.

  As we enjoyed the bliss of our first night together in Lanikai, I thought about the many blessings in my life. Close to one of the world’s most beautiful beaches and surrounded by elegant multi-million dollar homes, I could not imagine a better place to live—especially with all the upgrades Keoni and I were adding. I sighed and looked down for a moment so he wouldn’t notice the tearing in my eyes.

  “Natalie, you seem a long way off. What are you thinking about?”

  “I was just wishing Ariel and Auntie Carrie were here to enjoy this phase of my life. Except for missing them, I think my joy is hovering somewhere between the moon and the Mokulua Islets in the bay. I’m so grateful for everything in my life right now—especially you.”

  “Ditto, my love,” he replied, moving to join me on the swing.

  We sat silently holding hands for a moment, before he reached to turn my face up to his. “I can’t think of another evening that could top this one,” he said, before kissing me gently.

  Leaning back, he looked me over from my head to my toes.

  “What are you staring at?” I asked.

  “I’m debating which end of you needs more attention—your head or your feet?”

  “Do I have to limit my pleasure to one or the other? How about ALL of me.”

  “Now there’s a note on which end the night,” he said, standing up. Taking my hand, he led me into the house.

  The next morning may have been the beginning of a heavy work week for most people, but Keoni and I could afford a lazy start since we are semi-retired. The bulk of our current bout of remodeling was nearly complete and it was wonderful to savor the joy of opening a new chapter in our lives together.

  The dawn of life in my paradise by the sea featured a round of blueberry scones and Kona coffee with a hint of cocoa. After that, we took an early morning walk on the beach. With the sun already bright against the white sand, I wished I had put on a swimsuit instead of shorts.

  “When do you think we should give Miss Una her freedom?” I asked Keoni, who was busily looking at pebbles and small shells in the sand.

  “Well, she’s been to the cottage before. And after a night of being reassured that all of her belongings (including you) are here, it should be safe to let her out on a leash later today.”

  “Maybe she’ll learn to enjoy going for walks with us. Auntie Carrie had a cat who loved to do that. The only problem was that he sometimes took off mid-way through a promenade and stayed gone for a couple of days.”

  Keoni snorted, before saying, “There’s probably a simple explanation for his absences—entertaining the ladies feline along his path. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Miss Una in that regard. But there are dogs in the area who frequent the beach, and they could scare her into scooting off. Let’s take it a day at a time and try not to worry about problems that haven’t even presented themselves.”

  Returning home, we enjoyed a second round of coffee and discussed enhancements we were planning for the house and yard. For once Keoni held the checklist.

  “Aside from hooking up the grill, I think it’s worth putting in a cooking island complete with running water and a refrigerator.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I’ll even help you build it.”

  “And how do you plan to help with the brick and mortar side of the project?”

  “That’s easy. I’ll k
eep your glass filled with cold tea or beer and hand you each tile with a kiss and a promise of personal reward at the end.”

  He nodded with a big grin, “That sounds like a fair division of labor. And what kind of personal reward do I get when I’m through?”

  “Oh, I’ll think of something to make it worth your trouble,” I said, rubbing his shoulder. “Maybe in that hot tub you’ve been discussing? Have you thought about where to put it?”

  “I think the master bedroom lānai would be ideal. The upstairs balcony provides a roof. And we can plant bougainvillea against a trellis for additional privacy. Speaking of which, I should be finished with the security system in the next day or so.”

  At that moment, Keoni’s phone rang, and he indicated he needed to take the call inside. When he returned fifteen minutes later, he had a bemused look on his face.

  “What’s up, honey?” I asked.

  “Well, you know I don’t necessarily have to work?”

  “Mmhm.”

  “But until I met you, I didn’t have a lot going on in my personal life. To keep busy, I let my business float and my assignments expand or contract depending on my mood. Now that we’re together, I’m trying to decide how to position myself professionally.”

  “Well, thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You’re welcome. Until recently, my work with insurance brokers has been perfect—enough to keep me busy, but easily put on hold when I want to go fishing or travel. But when the economy saw a downturn, discretionary spending by both businesses and individuals dropped. Even insurance companies cut back. And although things are on the upswing, many business owners aren’t expanding their staffs, so they require fewer background checks. Couples that may have sought divorce at an earlier time are remaining united despite whatever suspicions either partner might have.”

  I nodded at that reality.

  “The big question I’ve been facing is deciding whether to enlarge my business or let it continue to float. With this call I just took, I’ve made the decision to shift the focus of my business. I’m teaming with a national company to provide security systems to both commercial and residential clients.“If you’re okay with it Natalie, I’d like to make White Sands Cottage a prototype for the new hard-wired and digital equipment I’ll be offering my clients. When I’m through installing everything, I’d like to video isolated parts of the system for a new website. Of course, no one will know where the property is or who owns it.”

  “It sounds like a good plan to me.”

  “With me here most nights, a security system might not seem important, but I’ll feel better about you when I’m not here. And if we start traveling, security will be really important if we leave the house empty for very long.”

  “I know you’re right about that. Even at the condo, we had some cases of burglary when the owners were on extended holidays. So, what do you think the cottage needs?”

  Keoni then pulled out a diagram of the cottage and a number of brochures from the folder he was holding and began outlining ideas for maximizing our household security.

  “Could any of this equipment hurt Miss Una? Could she set off any of the alarms by mistake?” I asked.

  “Unless she’s addicted to biting into wire, I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”

  “The closest she comes to playing with wires is playing with the creatures that dangle from her fish-line toys.”

  “There’s a big difference between plastic fish line and the wire I have in mind,” he chuckled in response. “And the motion sensors will not be at ground level.”

  For the rest of that day, we rearranged furniture and determined how to use our closets and built-in cabinets efficiently. Throughout the week, my partner in love addressed matters of security, while I pulled the kitchen, bathrooms and dining room together. Room by room and cupboard by cupboard, the cottage was coalescing into a beautiful retreat. Best of all, the collectibles from my world sojourns were showcased to their greatest advantage.

  On Friday, our new king-size bed was delivered. Finally, we were ready to move into the master suite, with its glorious bathroom and customized walk-in closet. Even Keoni’s tall frame was easily accommodated by the large shower. I found the classic claw-foot design of the whirlpool bath equal to the luxury of spas I have reviewed through the years.

  As we worked on our various projects, we met several of our neighbors. Across the street in one of the new mansions lived the Ho family. Maya’s antecedents had been in the Islands for over a hundred years, but Ming had come to the United States as an exchange student from Taiwan. Once the couple was married, he was offered a great job in the burgeoning field of software design and later became a proud citizen of the United States.

  Next door to us were Larry and Lulu Smith. He had been a general in the U.S. Army. When he was approaching retirement, they bought one of the last small bungalows in the neighborhood. Since then, they have renovated it to the point of non-recognition. But to be fair, it was not entirely by design. They had simply continued adding square footage to accommodate their grandchildren who wanted to visit during school holidays and summer breaks.

  Then there were Miriam and her roomies, who were the closest to us in many ways. With a simple latched gate separating our back yards, it was easy for us to visit one another frequently. When I broke my salt shaker one night, it was a quick sprint to their home for a few tablespoons to tide me over until I could go shopping. And when the electricity was off for a few hours, the Ladies joined us for an impromptu barbecue.

  Izzy had just returned from visiting relatives in Portugal and was getting back in the flow of manning her kitchen. After checking to see if we had set up our grill yet, they showed up with the ideal additions to the pork ribs we were planning to cook. In addition to chicken legs and a pot of rice, they brought a salad of mixed greens and tomatoes from their garden. The crowning glory was a sauce for the pork and chicken that Izzy had thrown together with odds and ends from the refrigerator she had been cleaning out.

  As Miriam laid out their additions to our menu, Izzy presented us with a bottle of Portuguese port wine she had brought home from the hillside vineyard of her relatives. “I hope you like your port smoky and strong,” she said.

  “I’m thrilled with any variety of wine from Portugal,” Keoni replied, taking it from her hands to place alongside the other elements of our meal.

  Knowing The Ladies were hoping to see what we done with White Sands Cottage, I gave them the grand tour. By the time we reached the front yard, I was grateful it was still light enough to see the stepping stones to the fountain. Periodically, Miriam commented on our changes to the home she had known from her years as Carrie’s neighbor. After we returned to the kitchen, Izzy went outside to help Keoni grill the meat and poultry.

  “I think everything you’ve done to the house is wonderful,” remarked Joanne, picking up a stack of plates and flatware.

  Joining the procession to our dinner on the patio, Miriam grabbed the pot of rice and salad bowl. “Many people could take a lesson from what you have done here. You have struck the perfect balance in modifying this lovely old home without ruining its charm,” she observed.

  Heading out the door with a tray of glasses and a few last items, I found everyone standing around Keoni at the new grill.

  “Obviously, I haven’t quite finished the outdoor kitchen, but this table will get us by. In a couple of days, the island will be finished and I can drop this grill into its permanent home.”

  Just as we were serving dinner, the electricity came back on, and we all laughed about the social benefits of a periodic power outage. After dinner, I sat back in the swing, enjoying some of Izzy’s port and watching Miss Una make the rounds in hopes that one of our guests would share a tidbit from their plate. As I looked around at the smiling faces surrounding me, I thought about the joy I felt in being a homeowner.
There is no going back in life. I never would have given up my years of trotting to exotic corners of the globe. However, I was glad to be settled in a cottage I could claim as my own.

  That night, Miss Una failed to show up at bedtime. I tried not to panic. I wondered whether we should have installed a doggie door. But when we realized that any small animal could enter the kitchen, we had discarded the idea. Instead, we had opted to install a hinge on one of the small panels in the garden window above the kitchen sink. Since there did not seem to be any other cats in the immediate vicinity, we hoped Miss Una would be the only user of the small passageway. I was pleased when Keoni declared this simple solution should not interfere with the security system he was installing.

  Eventually I went to bed with little comment, since I did not want Keoni to know how upset I was about my wandering animal companion. But once he was asleep, I got up several times to see if she had returned. Shortly before dawn, I awoke to a soft patter of rain punctuated with a crash of thunder. Keoni turned briefly to reassure me all was well and fell back asleep. Slipping out of the covers, I moved quickly back to the kitchen.

  Although she had not come inside, I was pleased to see Miss Una perched under the umbrella on the lānai table. As I opened the back door, I again wondered why she was intently watching Miriam’s home. When she disregarded the snapping of my fingers, I called out softly to ensure I would not awaken Keoni—or any of the neighbors.

  “What are you doing, Miss Una? Don’t you think it’s time to call it a night?”

  She continued to ignore me for a moment. Then she unwound her tail from around her body and turned toward the house. After gracing me with a brief look, she daintily jumped from the table to the window ledge and darted inside her private entrance. Before escorting me to the bedroom, she ate a few bites of dry food and had a long drink of water.

  The next morning Keoni and I stayed at the beach longer than usual, enjoying a swim after our walk. We found a note taped to our back door when we returned.