by Cathy Ace
“Why not join us?” I said quickly. Bud rolled his eyes. “Hey, Winston, we’d like to buy our friends a drink,” I called.
Janet Knicely gushed as she hurried toward me. I got the distinct impression that she and her husband weren’t invited to join many groups or gatherings. Not twice, at least.
With the four of us finally settled, a mai tai in front of Janet and a beer for Nigel, I opened with an innocent enough question: “Did you discover the mai tai in Hawai’i, Janet?”
The mousey woman grinned toward me, eyes closed as she sipped. “Indeed I did. Aren’t they lovely? So sweet and delicious. It’s like having your afters in a glass.”
“Dessert, Janet. Cait’s not English anymore; she’s an American now,” said Nigel.
I didn’t know which incorrect assertion by Nigel to react to first. Before I managed to open my mouth, I saw Bud stiffen.
“I never was English,” I began. “Always Welsh. Through and through. And I’m now a Canadian, not an American. And I know that afters, and pudding, and dessert, all mean the same thing, as does anyone who’s traveled, or watched television, or read a book.” I didn’t say more, because I knew I might not stop.
Nigel gave me a strange look and simply said, “It says a lot about the relationship between the English and the Welsh that it used to be legal for an Englishman to shoot a Welshman in the back and get away with it.”
I heard Bud take a deep breath. He buried his face in his drink.
I bit.
“I think you might have a few of your facts wrong there,” I replied as calmly as I could. “I believe you’re referring to the often misquoted claim that it’s legal to shoot a Welshman with a longbow on Sunday in the Cathedral Close in Hereford, or inside the city walls of Chester after midnight. I suspect this erroneous idea is connected with a rumored city ordinance, reputedly drawn up in 1403 in Chester, but never proven to exist. Granted, with the Glyndŵr Rising raging in the area from 1400 to 1415, it might have made sense to draw up such an ordinance, but it’s unbelievable that anyone with an ounce of education, or manners, would cling to such a concept almost six hundred years after the last Welsh War of Independence. Unless, for some strange reason, they think it’s funny.”
I was seething. I’d had my fill of the day—enough to let it show. I never lose my temper. Well, almost never. Not unless it’s for a good cause, anyway.
“Nigel didn’t mean anything by it, did you, Nigel?” Janet said. “No, of course he didn’t. He’s just having you on. Right, Nigel?”
No, he’s not.
Nigel’s face was a mask of disdain. I wasn’t sure if it was for me, every living Welsh person, or his wife. I supposed it could be all three.
Bud countered with, “Cait was just telling me the rumor is that Frannie Lang and poor Tommy Trussler were having a bit of an onboard romance. Anything to it, do you think?”
The zag, introduced when the entire conversation could have zigged, was pure Bud.
Janet drew close to Bud and me, seeming to completely forget the insults her husband had just hurled my way, and whispered, “I think you might be right. I saw them going at it hammer and tongs up at the front of the ship the other morning.”
Ah—you do have your eyes open sometimes.
I wondered what Janet meant by “going at it,” so I thought it best to ask. Ignoring Nigel completely, I said quietly, “Do tell—what were they up to, exactly?”
Nigel tutted loudly as Janet replied, “You know. Arguing. In public. Very impolite.”
With my just having vented at her husband, I wondered what constituted an “argument” for Janet Knicely. Again, I decided to be direct. “How do you mean? Were they shouting at each other?”
Janet placed her drink on the plastic tub-table just as the under-lighting changed from blue to red. “Oh, did I do that?” she asked excitedly.
You have the attention span of a guppy, was what I wanted to say; instead I said, “So they were fighting?”
Janet looked at me—with her eyes open for once—a red glow now suffusing her bland complexion. “Yes, shouting. They looked angry.”
“Did you hear what they were saying?” I tried for a conspiratorial air, but probably only managed to sound nosey.
Janet looked disappointed. “Not really. I think she said something about him being on fire. Though that doesn’t make any sense, does it?” I was pretty sure that Janet hadn’t heard any such thing, but she didn’t want to admit to a total lack of knowledge.
“She told him he was a liar and a cheat,” said Nigel vehemently, rather surprising both Bud and myself. Janet also looked taken aback.
“You weren’t there, Nigel,” she said. “I was walking the deck on my own at the time, and you’d gone to the Internet café.”
Nigel’s aggressive air left him and he simply said, “Really?” in a non-committal—and unconvincing—way.
“When was this, then?” I pressed.
Janet looked at Nigel as though he was about to bite her head off. “It was the last morning of the ashore days. The morning we were in Hilo, early. I know it was, because I wanted a walk before we sat on a bus all day to go to Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park, to see that Kīlauea volcano. I was very excited about it, especially after seeing all the lava flowing into the sea the night before. You said you had to go to check emails for work, Nigel, and I went for a walk. I know I did.”
“Yes, dear,” was Nigel’s distracted response.
“And you were at the front of the ship?” I asked.
Janet nodded. “Up near those netball courts they have.”
“Basketball,” corrected Nigel. “It’s basketball, not netball. I keep telling you.”
Janet shrugged off her husband’s put-down and smiled, with her eyes closed again. Very telling. “It’s all the same, really,” she observed, fiddling with her earrings.
“They’re pretty,” I said.
Janet smiled coyly. “Nigel gave them to me, for our recommitment, you know.”
I peered at the small diamond droppers as they glittered in the moonlight, and reflected the red glow of the table lighting.
“Did you get them on the Islands?” I asked Nigel.
“In Maui,” said Janet. “We’d said we wouldn’t get anything for each other, but then I saw these, and Nigel decided to sneak away from me in Lahaina and get them as a surprise. He gave them to me for our first formal dinner, the first day we were moored off Maui. Isn’t he lovely? Diamonds, for little me!”
“They certainly have a pretty setting,” I remarked. Exactly like the two pairs Tommy had in his safe.
Bud looked puzzled when I followed up with, “I’m dreading trying to pack tomorrow. We bought so many gifts I don’t know what we’ll do.” Actually, we hadn’t. “Did you buy lots for your boys and their wives?” I asked innocently.
Nigel sipped his beer as Janet said, “Not too much. Some little beach things for the wives, a couple of hats for the boys, and I did get a string of pearls for each of the wives as well, but only at the ABC Store. They were so cheap, I couldn’t believe it. And they’re real too.”
“Good value,” I agreed, “and women always like jewelry.”
“Pearls will always be classy,” said Nigel, his tone smug and knowing.
“Not as classy as diamonds,” said Janet.
“Pearls cost enough,” said Nigel.
“Yes, dear,” said Janet, and sipped her mai tai.
A Wind from The Islands
I’D DECIDED TO MAKE SOME headway with my gin and tonic when I smelled a familiar perfume. Just behind us stood Kai and Malia Pukui. The gown hugging Malia’s slim figure had an intricate floral pattern. We’d seen any number of Hawaiian prints during the past couple of weeks, and some of them had been hideous. The effect seemed to be increased a thousand-fold when entire families wore clothing made from the same fabric, which one woman had told me she did so she could spot her husband when he wandered off. Malia’s dress was was subtle, and even suggested
an earlier age, before the proliferation of commercialized prints at places like Hilo Hattie’s.
Malia’s dark, bare arms glowed in the moonlight, one linked through her husband’s dinner-jacketed arm. He’d teamed his classic dinner suit with a gleaming white dress shirt that had a hibiscus pattern in the weave itself; subtle, yet culturally appropriate. His wing collar and black tie were delightfully formal, and Kai’s graceful appearance put Nigel Knicely’s over-the-top outfit to shame.
“Aloha,” said Kai and Malia simultaneously. Both Bud and I “Aloha’d” back, but Janet and Nigel both replied with “Good evening,” despite the fact that it was about half past ten.
“I see you are enjoying a mai tai,” said Kai, smiling at Janet. “This is a drink you discovered on our Islands, I guess. Many people do.”
“You were very clever to invent it,” said Janet, as though Kai himself was responsible.
Smiling, Kai replied, “But it is not a drink from Hawai’i at all. Like the ukulele and sweet bread, which came to us from Portugal, these things are now seen as Hawaiian. But the mai tai? Some say it was first made at Trader Vic’s, others say it was by a man called Don the Beachcomber. Either way, it came from the mainland, California, where tiki bars were popular. However, I believe that many bartenders on our Islands are happy that it made its way across the sea.”
“Sweet gloop,” said Nigel offensively.
Janet giggled. “I think it’s lovely,” she said. “Will you join us?”
I noticed the smile on Malia’s face become rigid. She was just about to speak when her husband said, “Of course.”
“Jingle bells, jingle bells! Got quite de party goin’ here, Missus Cait, Mister Bud,” said Winston as he arrived at our table. Pulling chairs from other areas, the six of us soon sat facing each other.
Bud opened with, “Wonderful shirt you have there, Kai. I’m quite envious. I don’t get many chances to dress up. I guess you get to do it a lot on these cruises.”
Kai nodded. “It is always a pleasure to see all the ladies looking so beautiful in their gowns, and the men in their smart suits, on a perfect night like this,” he replied slowly.
I jumped in with, “Malia, is that dress vintage? Or is it just a retro print?”
The woman who had entranced us with her graceful dance moves for many days gave us a bright smile, warm with genuine pride. “It belonged to my Makuahine, my mother, many years ago.”
“I’m sure she looked just as beautiful in it as you do now,” said Bud, smiling. “Is Hawaiian society given to wearing formal clothes much anymore? We mainly saw people in casual dress.” Bud was trying really hard—he usually had no interest in what folks wore.
“Not these days,” said Malia, sounding a little disappointed. “When my parents were in their prime, they often dressed formally. My Makuakāne, my father, was the harbor master in O’ahu. A very responsible job. He was a respected man.”
I’d noticed that, whenever they were addressing guests, both Malia and Kai used the odd Hawaiian word, then explained it. I liked it. The Aloha Spirit—alive, well, and kicking at the Sundowner Bar.
“Is he dead now, dear?” asked Janet, having polished off her drink.
Again I saw Malia Pukui stiffen. She looked down at her lap and said softly, “He is.”
“Aw, shame,” said Janet.
Nigel threw her a withering glance, stood abruptly, and said, “Time for the show, Janet. It’ll start before long, and you know I like to be front and center.”
I bet you do.
We were all taken aback at his tone—all except Janet, who wobbled to her feet and walked away with her husband, looking a little unsteady.
“Maybe not her first mai tai of the evening,” observed Bud as the couple departed.
Neither Kai nor Malia commented. They both just smiled. I noted they were both drinking sparkling water.
“Have you enjoyed your day today, despite its start?” asked Kai calmly.
I was about to say “Yes,” then realized I should temper my enthusiasm for being on the hunt for a killer. “It’s been … different,” I said.
Malia nodded sagely. “That is good, because death being close to you often is not good; if it happens frequently, evil spirits can tread a path to you more easily.”
It occurred to me that, although she’d caught my eye all those days ago during the embarkation process—and despite seeing her since then as she showed guests traditional Hawaiian dance moves and lei-making—I knew nothing of the woman herself. Indeed, I knew little of Kai as well. I decided to try to find out all I could about them. “I hear from Kai that your family is involved in the production of cosmetics back on the Islands,” I began.
Malia nodded once. “We are. We are very fortunate that we are able to grow everything we need to produce some of the best things for the skin. Macadamia nuts, Kukui nuts, castor beans, cocoa butter, and so many fragrances from pineapples, apricots, plumeria, pikake, and so forth. Everything we make is natural, and truly of Hawai’i.”
I enjoyed hearing the Pukuis pronounce the name of their home in the authentic manner, with the “w” sounding as a “v,” and each distinct “i” at the end of the name. I’d tried it myself, but felt I’d come off as a bit pretentious, so I’d chosen to stick to the more familiar pronunciation.
“You both have lustrous skin, and always smell so good. Do you use your own products?”
“Of course,” said Malia. “It is only a small company, and we need to promote what we do whenever we can, so we are our own advertisers. We are hoping to sign a big contract soon with a group of hotels on the Islands—not just for their properties there, but maybe around the world. Their guests like our little bars of soap, and we might have the chance to supply them for all their rooms. It would be a challenge, but it could change life for the better for our entire family.”
“You live in an astoundingly lush and beautiful part of the world,” said Bud. “It must be tough to work every day when you could be enjoying the countryside or surfing. Is it a stupid question to ask if you both surf?”
“It is not stupid,” said Kai, smiling. “Not everyone who lives on our Islands surfs. Not everyone can, and not everyone wants to. But,” he winked, “most can, and most want to. It’s in our blood. I expect you visited the large, bronze statue of Duke Kahanamoku on Waikiki?”
“We did,” said Bud. “We spent some time grazing on pupus, or ‘appies’ as we would call them, at Duke’s Bar at the Outrigger Hotel on the evening of the day we embarked. They have a fair bit of historical stuff about the man there. He really changed Hawai’i, didn’t he?”
“He was a man of royal blood, with a mission to share surfing with the world, and he allowed Hawai’i to have the tourist appeal it has today. My Kupuna, which is what I called my grandfather, knew him well,” said Kai. “He was a good and kind man. Though driven, and of course very athletic, he was gentle, my grandfather said. A legend to be proud of.”
“Well, it’s a wonderful place,” said Bud. “So bright. Everything is vivid. Those rows of colorful surfboards all chained up along the beach? We saw little kids collecting them and running into the surf. Looked like they were right out of their schoolrooms.”
“They might have been,” said Kai. He smiled, but I caught a flicker of sadness in his expression.
“Cait and I were amazed by the size of some of the plants you have outdoors, which we can only coax along as houseplants.” Bud grinned at me. “Well, my wife isn’t known for her horticultural skills, so I know our expectations are pretty low to begin with. But even so—some of those hibiscus flowers were as big as my head.”
You’re doing well, Bud.
“It is our climate,” said Kai. “The climes at sea level and just above, I mean. Most visitors think of all the Hawaiian Islands as being the same as each other, and purely tropical. As you may know, this is not true.”
“Your presentation a couple of days ago was fascinating,” replied Bud, “and we learned a l
ot about how you have all types of climates, from tundra to desert, on the Big Island. You are a good speaker, Kai. It was very enjoyable. I just wish more passengers had attended.”
Kai and Malia smiled. “The Aloha Spirit is not to be forced upon anyone,” said Kai. “People come to play in the fiftieth state of the USA, and do not always wish to learn about how it differs from, or can complement, the others. We are grateful that they visit, and we welcome them with open arms and open hearts. You know, in some ways, it has allowed many of our old ways to begin to flourish again, because some of the people who visit us really do want to learn about the time before Captain Cook, and how we lived our lives then.”
“I expect you benefit from the new popularity in eco-tourism too,” I added. “I know we’re finding that a great deal along the coast of British Columbia.”
“Indeed,” replied Malia. “We have such wonderful natural features for people to explore and enjoy. Of course, it’s always a difficult balance to strike, but we are trying to do the right things, for the right reasons.”
“You mentioned in your presentation the other day that you were involved with the Polynesian Cultural Center out near the Brigham Young University. Bud and I didn’t have a chance to go. I understand it’s very popular. How were you involved?”
Malia deferred to Kai, who replied, “It was one of those times when I had to decide whether to be involved and try to ensure that what was depicted was as close to realistic as a tourist attraction would allow, or to stand outside it and protest that it was oversimplifying our complex cultures. I decided to get involved, and I’m glad I did. It’s not a Polynesian Disneyland—it does a fair job and, of course, it employs a lot of our people. As I said, the side effects have been interesting.”
“Dare I say that Canadians often view the Hawaiian Islands very differently than do most Americans?” said Bud.
“You may say what you wish,” said Malia enigmatically, “you are a guest. We find it best to avoid the topics of religion and politics upon the ships. We focus on historical cultural information, the bounty of our natural setting, and the traditions and crafts of our nation.”