“Of the same thing?”
“No, all different causes. She always ended up with money, though.”
“No kids? She told Louie she never had any.”
“Nope. None anyone knows of.”
He took huge bites. One minute the sandwich was there, and then it was gone.
“Want to split a dessert?”
“No thanks,” she said.
“They have this thing called a puffasada.”
“Puffawhata?”
“Puffasada. They stuff pineapple and berries into dough, roll it in panko crumbs and fry it.”
“Naturally.”
“Then it’s topped with whipped cream.”
“Why not just stab yourself in the heart?”
“Hey, I’m in great shape. My doc says so.”
Anyone with two eyes could see he was in great shape on the outside.
“I’m tempted,” she admitted, “but I really need to get back to the Goddess.”
“Thanks for attending the memorial. You came back with food for thought. Sorry you had to take off work.”
“It was nice to get out, and I connected with a woman named Tiko Scott. Cute. Asian. She has a smoothie business. Marilyn introduced her to Louie because Marilyn’s hot on the smoothies and suggested they go on our menu. Do you know Tiko?”
He shook his head no. “I think I’ve heard the name, but I don’t know her.”
“She seems nice. Used to dance with Mitchell, but she left the halau months ago. I tried to get her to talk about how Mitchell and Kawika got along. She explained the deaths about the same as you did. Shari Kaui was very ill before she died, and Mitchell’s heart was bad, and he didn’t take care of his health.”
“Pretty much why no one is suspicious.”
“Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe they just died.”
“Maybe, but then why is my big toe bothering me?”
“Your big toe? Seriously?”
“Yeah. It hurts whenever I get a hunch.”
“Kind of like gout, only different? Is that what happened to your psychic grandma? Her toe ached when she had a premonition?”
He signaled to the waitress to bring the check. “Hey, don’t throw rocks. My tutu was psychic.”
“And so is your toe.”
His two-way radio on the table beeped. He turned it up just enough to hear what sounded like gibberish to Em.
“Gotta go.” He stood up, took some bills out of his wallet and left them on the table. “I’ll walk you to the car.”
“Emergency?”
“Somebody in a chicken suit just robbed the convenience store at the Shell station by Brick Oven Pizza.”
“Let me guess. The runaway chicken guy.”
“You got it.”
“Hope you catch him soon and toss him in the coop.”
15
Sarge Boggs Takes Over
Two mornings later a light mist was falling. Inside the Goddess, Kiki paced the back of the barroom as the Maidens trickled in with as much speed as the rain dripping off the roof outside. They ordered coffee and drinks from Sophie and sat down along the banquette. Big Estelle was last to arrive.
“I’d have been here sooner,” Big Estelle rolled her eyes, “but mother insisted on finishing her Zumba DVD first.”
Little Estelle came riding in on her Gad-About.
“How can she do Zumba?” Lillian threaded a finger through her bouffant to scratch her scalp.
“She doesn’t. She just likes to watch the buff guys in spandex.” Big Estelle tossed her purse on the vinyl banquette and headed for the bar.
“Tightest butts in the world. Nothing bulges like Spandex. Gets my motor running.” Little Estelle gave her horn a toot for good measure. She yelled to Kiki, “What are we waiting for?”
Pained, Kiki took a long swallow of her drink and wished martini glasses were bigger. Sophie tried to dissuade her from hitting the hard stuff so early, so she promised to have only one. She needed a swift kick in the keester to raise her spirits. After what happened at the memorial, she was convinced she’d made a grave error in entering the Maidens in the competition.
“We’re waiting for that . . . person to get here,” she said.
“Pat.” Sophie stuck a tall celery stalk in two Shark Attacks and handed the drinks to Big Estelle. “Her name is Pat.”
“Pat is running the class today,” Kiki reminded them. With someone else in charge, she planned to spend the next two hours thinking up ways to get them out of the competition.
“What song did you choose? Are we learning something new?” Suzi stopped texting long enough to look up and ask.
Kiki ate one of the three olives that had been marinating in her drink. “The number Sophie choreographed for the shave ice truck blessing. Not that many people have seen it. That way we won’t have to start from scratch, just add some finesse.”
“Good idea.” Trish walked through the door, set down her camera and started braiding her red hair. “Sorry, Kiki. I had to shoot a wedding at the Nawiliwili Yacht Club last night, and I got home late.”
“Don’t worry. You haven’t missed anything.” Kiki made sure the boom box on the stage was cued up and ready to go. For the past two days she’d made triplicate copies of their CD’s. She stashed one in each of her and Kimo’s cars and taped another set to the back of the boom box. There was no way she’d ever be caught without all their music again.
Someone was making a clunking racket outside the front door. All eyes turned in time to see Pat Boggs walk in carrying a snare drum and drum sticks. Wearing jeans and pair of red cowboy boots topped off with a wild, neon green aloha shirt, she clumped straight to the stage and set the drum down before she scanned the room.
After one look in her direction, the Maidens went back to talking among themselves. Pat picked up a drumstick.
BOOM. BOOM.
Lillian covered her ears. Flora woke up. Big Estelle, Trish and Suzi jumped to their feet. Sophie turned around to hide a smile. Kiki glared. If Pat noticed, she didn’t let it bother her.
“Line up on stage, you pussy toads,” Pat shouted. “We got no time to waste.”
Little Estelle tossed aside her morning copy of the Garden Island news and clapped her hands.
“Whoohoo!” she shoved a fist in the air. “That’s what I’m talking about. Like she said, line up, you pussy toads. The party’s over!”
Pat turned on her faster than a starving gecko on a slow termite. “Look, old lady, ap-pair-adently you think I need help. What part of ‘I’m in charge here’ don’t you understand? You just roll your little self back to the table and read your paper. I kin handle this.”
“Pat, do you ever senior-sit?” Big Estelle was smiling from ear to ear. “If so, I need your number.”
Pat planted her feet shoulder width apart. Hands on hips, she stared at the lineup of women. Kiki had purposely stalled and was still beside the bar.
“Miss Kiki,” Pat stared across the room, “you plan on dancing in the competition?”
Kiki felt her face go purple. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if she fell over with a stroke right there in the Goddess. She refused to end up as gossip fodder for the whole North Shore.
“Of course I’m dancing in the competition.”
“Then I suggest you get your sorry butt on the stage and dance!” Pat waved a drum stick.
“That woman has just sealed her own fate,” Kiki mumbled to Sophie. “I don’t have to take this.”
“You want to win?” Sophie grabbed Kiki’s empty glass and shoved it into a bin of soapy water.
“She’s not even a dancer,” Kiki whispered.
“She’s a former drill sergeant. I couldn’t think of anyone better to whip you all into shap
e in two weeks. Give it a try.”
Kiki stomped onto the stage and took her position front and center.
“Is the music ready?” Pat asked her.
Kiki nodded. “Just push play.” She prayed everyone would remember the steps the first time through.
“Sophie went over the dance with me in private,” Boggs shouted. Either she wanted to make an impression, or she was stone deaf. “So I know what it’s supposed to look like. I’m gonna push play on that boom box of yours, and you all are going to show me what you got.”
Kiki glanced over at Lillian. On a good day Lil could almost dance in time with the beat. Right now she could only stare bug-eyed at Pat Boggs. Her lower lip quivered.
“So help me, Lillian,” Kiki whispered, “if you start crying, I’m going to pull out what’s left of your fuzzy pink hair one strand at a time. Focus!”
Pat punched play. The music started. The right half of the line went left, the left half went right and they collided. Dwarfed by Flora, Suzi was smashed between the two halves of the line and spurted forward. She would have sailed over the edge of the stage if Pat hadn’t thrown up her hands to stop her. She shoved Suzi back into place and pushed the stop button on the boom box. The room fell deathly quiet.
“Fall in again, ladies,” Pat shouted. “We’re gonna give this a try without music. You’re gonna walk through the steps while I beat this here drum to keep time. You think you can handle that?”
No one said a word. Pat pounded the drum with each word she yelled.
“DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE THAT? If you can, say yes ma’am.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I can’t HEAR you.”
“YES, MA’AM!”
Pat started beating the drum and shouting, “One, two, three, four and one, two, three, four and . . .”
Kiki made a mental note to herself to ask Kimo for the phone number of his old Samoan friend, a huge moke with a name that sounded like Fall-offa-sofa. She didn’t care how much he would charge to squash the stuffing out of Pat Boggs and make her disappear before the end of the week.
16
A Thoughtful Defector
They cowered and danced through close to two hours of practice before Sophie, bless her heart, stepped in and suggested to Pat that the ladies had had enough for the day. It was hard to admit, but their timing was actually improved after all the shouting and drumming. Pat Boggs was an immovable force who wasn’t cowed by anything Kiki tried, and Kiki had to give the woman credit; even Lillian was executing the steps with a little finesse.
“I will see all of you ladies in the mornin’,” Pat shoved the drumsticks in her back pocket and picked up the drum. “I suggest you go home and practice on your own. I’m gonna be harder on you tomorrow than I was tuh-day.”
She stomped out of the room the way she came in with boot heels pounding and her ring of keys jingling at her waist. A moment or two passed before the Maidens, suffering from shock and exhaustion, finally climbed off the stage.
They’d no sooner stumbled into their seats then Marilyn Lockhart came breezing into the room carefully balancing a low sided box full of tall Styrofoam cups lined up in neat rows.
“I’m so glad you’re all still here!” She called out. “I’ve brought you all a treat.”
“This day just gets better and better.” Kiki ignored her and walked over to the end of the bar. “Sophie, I need a vodka martini.” She watched as Marilyn handed out cups to all of the girls. “Make it a double,” she added.
“You got it.” Sophie took a martini glass from the shelf behind the bar.
“Here you go, Kiki. You’ll love this.” Marilyn set a tall cup down next to her elbow.
“What is it?” Kiki pulled off the plastic lid and stared into the cup of fluffy opaque substance. “I have a rule not to drink anything blue,” she said.
“It’s an energy smoothie, from Tiko Scott.”
Kiki stared at her.
“You know. Tiko’s Tastee Tropicals. Louie is going to feature her smoothie packets on the menu. When he told me you were all practicing I made these for you. I added my own personal touch too.”
Kiki sniffed hers. Some of the others were already downing the smoothies while Flora added tequila to hers.
“Try it,” Marilyn encouraged. “I hear Mitchell’s halau loves them.”
Kiki shrugged. She’d been too upset to have breakfast and after the long hard session she was famished. She picked up the smoothie, tasted it, and polished off half before she set it down on the bar again. If the smoothies were good enough for dearly departed Mitchell’s halau then it was good for her.
“Not bad,” she admitted. “What did you say it has in it?” She picked up the cup and had some more.
“Acai berries and Tiko’s flavored powder packets.” She leaned closer to Kiki. “I brought them as a little peace offering. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot by asking you to take me back into the group.”
“What are those little white chunks?”
“Hawaiian seasonings I learned to make when I was one of Mitchell’s students.” Marilyn beamed. “Besides, I spoke to Jackie Loo Tong at the Memorial, and he said he’d love to have me join his halau so no hard feelings. When I told him that Louie and I were engaged, he congratulated me and said that he’d look forward to coming up here to the North Shore and having his dancers appear at the Goddess sometime.”
Kiki’s throat contracted and she hacked up smoothie into her cup. “Jackie Tong wants his group to dance at the Goddess?”
“If it’s all right with Em and Louie, of course.” Marilyn took a look at Kiki’s face and stepped back. “Sometime. In the future, that is.”
Kiki started banging her forehead on the bar.
“Maybe you’d better take off,” Sophie suggested to Marilyn.
“I was only trying to show her I’m not upset. One door closes and another always opens, right?” Marilyn spread her arms wide as if to embrace the world. “Right?”
“That’s right,” Lillian agreed. “When life gives you lemonade . . .”
“Make smoothies.” Big Estelle raised her empty cup.
“I’ll drink to that.” Flora upended her cup and tried to slurp out the last few drops.
Kiki kept her head down until she heard Marilyn’s slippers slap the floor as she crossed the room. Then Kiki lifted her head and had some more smoothie just to make sure she wasn’t really missing something.
“That was disgusting,” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” Sophie looked around the room at the others. “They all sucked those down pretty fast for disgusting.”
“Not the smoothies.” Kiki glared at Marilyn who was collecting cups and lids and accepting thanks from the others. “That woman. Trying to make peace. Bragging that she’s dancing with Jackie Loo Tong and that they’re going to horn in on our one and only gig. This place is sacred to us. He can’t bring his dancers here.”
“If Louie and Em don’t mind he can. So can anyone else.”
Kiki’s eyes suddenly welled up. “Good God. I think I’m channeling Lillian.” She batted her eyes to clear them.
Across the room, Suzi gathered up her purse. “I have to go. I’m supposed to show a house in forty-five minutes.” She got to her feet, took a step and stopped. She braced her hands on the table and closed her eyes. “Whoa.”
“Are you all right?” Trish reached for her.
Suzi shook her head. “I feel weird. My stomach is . . .”
“Rumbling.” Big Estelle was on her feet, clutching her middle, staring across the room at the restroom door. “I’m not gonna make it to the lua.”
“Run!” Suzi was right behind her. “Cause I gotta go too.”
The two women ran to the bathroom. Stall doors banged agains
t the wall. The others left in the room looked around frantically.
“Men’s room!” Trish shouted. She took off with Lillian right behind her.
Little Estelle started driving the Gad-About around in circles shouting, “Hurry! Hurry! Somebody come outta there! I gotta go!”
“What in the heck?” Sophie turned wide-eyed to Kiki.
Kiki couldn’t even look at her empty smoothie cup. Her intestines were bubbling like a nuclear reactor on the verge of a meltdown. She grabbed her gut and doubled over. Her eyes watered from the pain of holding it all in.
She looked up at Sophie and gasped, “Help!”
Sophie pointed to the back. “Use the toilet in Em’s office.”
“Damn you, Marilyn!” Kiki hunched over and ran into the office yelling, “You’ve poisoned us all!”
17
Too Much of a Good Thing
“I haven’t cried this hard since my third husband died!” Marilyn howled and buried her face against the front of Louie’s aloha shirt, a reproduction 1940’s print covered with cavorting beach boys and hula dancers.
Across the living room of the beach house she shared with her uncle, Em watched Louie pat Marilyn on the back. It was bad enough that Em had been dealing with a near comatose parrot all morning. They woke up to find David Letterman sprawled out on the littered newspaper in the bottom of his cage. Never knowing if he’d actually taken his last drink and keeled over or if he was just passed out, things were always a little tense until Louie found Dave’s pulse and declared the bird merely a casualty of excessive samples of various versions of the new Two to Mango champagne cocktail.
“What’s the matter?” Em had been trying to get to the bottom of Marilyn’s distress since the woman had burst through the door wailing. She had a feeling Kiki was behind the tsunami of tears.
Marilyn’s head came up off Louie’s chest with the imprint of a coconut button on her right cheek.
“I . . . I was ooo . . . only trrr . . . trying to do something nnn . . . nice for them.”
“Who? The Maidens?” Em crossed the room and sat on the edge of the rattan coffee table near the sofa. She looked at Louie who merely shrugged.
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