Suddenly the crowd collectively held its breath. Em glanced toward the stage and watched as the EMTs shifted Kawika onto the gurney and raised it. There was an oxygen mask strapped to his face. They wheeled him off into the wings and took him out the back way.
Roland and the other officers followed them out. A janitor with a mop and bucket walked on stage.
“Glad I’m not on barf detail,” Kiki muttered.
The microphone squealed when a young male dancer tapped the mic. He blew into it and then softly said, “Is this on? Can you hear me?”
“Louder!” someone in the back row yelled.
“Can you hear me now?”
There was some scattered applause.
“If everyone would please stand and join hands we’ll say a pule for Kawika.”
A man’s voice shouted, “Is he make?”
“No. He’s not dead. They’re taking him to Wilcox.”
“Who is that on the mic?” Em whispered to Kiki.
“I don’t remember his name, but I recognize him. He’s been one of Mitchell’s dancers for years. I’ve seen him dance for his mom’s musical group too. They entertain at restaurants and bars sometimes. I think their last name is Leahe.”
The room fell silent. Everyone bowed their heads as the young man led the audience in a prayer for Kawika who was in route to Wilcox Hospital, a short distance away in Lihue. He asked for blessings for Kawika, the EMTs, the doctors waiting at the hospital, everyone present, the dancer waiting in the wings, those at home who couldn’t be there, the firemen of the KFD, the police, and the festival committee. Before he finished he even asked for blessings for the tires on the ambulance.
Finally everyone said, “Amene.”
The new M.C. paused to confer with Kawika’s troupe, who had remained gathered in a tight knot of eerily calm hysteria on stage. The young male dancer who led the prayer was in a hushed argument with them. He tried handing the mic off, but no one would take it.
Looking flustered, he returned to the podium and focused on the crowd again.
“The last thing Kawika said before they took him away was . . .”
“We can’t hear you,” a man shouted.
The new emcee spoke up. “He said that the show must go on. So . . . if the musicians playing for the solo dancer from Tokyo will take their places, and all of you will take your seats, the solo competition will begin.”
Hoping Roland was still in the hotel, Em was anxious to find him. She turned to Kiki, whose head was on a swivel.
“Hey. Where’d Marilyn go?” Kiki wondered.
There was no sign of Marilyn anywhere.
“She can’t be far.” Em was amazed at how fast Marilyn disappeared.
“Maybe she got rid of Kawika so Jackie can steal more of students.”
“Before tonight I would have said no, but I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“Well, I think you should tell Roland. He won’t believe me.”
“I was just going to look for him.”
“Good. Maybe we can be rid of her once and for all.” Kiki turned back toward the stage. The lights went low, and the Japanese solo dancer took her place. The hum of a slide guitar blended with a ukulele and acoustic guitars. The spotlight found the dancer, who was poised and ready.
“I’m going up front again,” Kiki whispered.
“I’m going to find Roland.”
“Yeah, maybe now he’ll arrest Marilyn.”
Em thought Jackie Loo Tong, given his absence, was the more likely suspect as she headed for the exit. But the double doors were closed; no one was allowed to go in or out during a performance.
Em scooted back out of the way, hugging the wall like the rest of the folks waiting to get out. She watched the solo dancer on stage. The woman from Tokyo was a far cry better than any of the Maidens. Maybe it would have been best for her friends if the show hadn’t gone on after Kawika hit the floor. She was hoping the dance would end soon when she spotted Tiko standing near the exit.
Em crossed the open space between them and slipped into an empty spot against wall. Tiko looked anxious to get out.
“Did you leave the booth unmanned?” Em asked.
“No, Charlotte’s there. I got caught inside when I came to see what the commotion was,” Tiko said. She continued to watch the dancer on stage.
Em studied her profile and asked, “Do you remember Marilyn buying a smoothie from you earlier?”
Tiko turned. “Marilyn? I don’t think so. I’ve been there most of the afternoon.”
“Shh!” An older woman next to Em shushed them. They fell silent until the performance ended and the lights went up again, then Em moved with the crowd to the craft fair area and followed Tiko to her booth where her cousin was still busy.
“Kawika collapsed?” Charlotte poured soy milk into the blender and added a variety of juices with barely a glance.
“How did you know?” Tiko stepped behind the table and tied on her Tiko’s Tropical Smoothie apron.
“That’s all everyone out here is talking about,” Charlotte said.
Em stood off to the side and watched the cousins take orders as fast as they could. Their efficient moves back and forth in the small space were as choreographed as any dance.
“Does Charlotte know Marilyn?” Em waited until Tiko shut off the blender and was reaching for a cup.
“I don’t think they’ve ever had an opportunity to meet.”
“Meet who?” Charlotte wanted to know as she made change for a man with two kids.
“A haole lady,” Em said. “In her sixties. I was wondering if she ordered a smoothie in the last couple hours. She’s blond, but she had on a huge black hat that covered her hair and big sunglasses. You couldn’t have missed her.”
“I kind of remember waiting on somebody like that. Why?” Charlotte paused to ask a young hippie mom with a baby in a tie-dyed sling what she wanted to order.
“Just curious,” Em said.
No use getting Tiko upset about Marilyn. Em still doubted the woman had anything to do with Kawika’s collapse since Jackie Loo Tong was still the number one suspect in Em’s mind. But if Marilyn was dangerous, she had to be stopped.
There was no sign of Roland in the fair area. Em was about to leave when Charlotte asked Tiko, “Who took over for Kawika?”
Em paused, picturing the soft spoken male dancer at the microphone.
“His name is Raymond Leahe,” Tiko said.
“Do I know him?” Charlotte asked.
“Maybe you’d recognize him. He’s a great dancer. Mitchell was going to elevate both Shari and Kawika to kumu status but Mitchell never noticed what a fabulous hula dancer Raymond is. Raymond never got angry about it, but in my opinion he so deserves to lead that halau.”
Em said goodbye and went to look for Roland. As she walked through the craft fair and out to the lobby, she found herself wondering if Raymond Leahe might have finally gotten angry enough to get rid of the only dancer left in his way.
27
Suspicious Suspects
Kiki found Trish and Suzi in the ballroom and crawled over the laps and legs of spectators as she made her way along the row to the empty seat beside them. She splashed vodka on the head of a bald man sitting in the row in front of them, lifted the hem of her pareau and wiped it off.
“Alooooha!” He smiled over his shoulder.
“Aloha handsome. Where you from?” Kiki batted her false eyelashes, certain he was a tourist. He was too pale to be from Kauai. There were five empty Budweiser bottles on the floor by his chair. Obviously like everyone in the room he was high on Hawaiian music, hula, and witnessing Kawika’s collapse.
“Seattle.”
“Seattle,” Kiki laughed. “Home of the palest haoles
in the world.” She figured she’d spread enough aloha to make up for the splash and sat down.
Trish leaned over Suzi. “Did you hear?”
“About Kawika? I saw him go down.”
“Not that. Pat is out looking for Flora. She and Little Estelle stayed in the bar too long and wound up dancing for the crowd.”
“Dancing what?”
“They thought it was hula. Flora was dancing. Little Estelle sat on the Gad-About and waved her arms around. The bouncer tossed them out when Little Estelle offered to strip for donations. Flora wanted to leave by then anyway. She thinks she was scheduled to dance in the solo competition like last time. They went to put on her makeup and do her hair.”
Kiki’s shock turned to relief. “Then she’s probably in her room. If Pat’s smart she’ll lock them in.”
“We looked. They aren’t there, and we don’t know where they are,” Trish said. “We got tired of searching and split. Little Estelle can be very cagey.”
“Someone ought to take that scooter away from her.”
“I just hope Pat finds them before Flora somehow makes it to the stage,” Trish said.
“I think we should go help,” Suzi added.
“Sergeantoggs wants to be in charge, then let her.” Kiki glanced at the stage and mumbled, “I wonder what the holdup is?”
So far the new Master of Ceremonies hadn’t appeared to announce the next dancer.
“You know, I saw Marilyn earlier,” Kiki told them. “I’m betting she gave Kawika one of her doctored smoothies.”
Suzi quickly checked her cell phone and then shut it down again. “Really, Kiki, that’s nuts. Why would she?”
Kiki leaned over Trish and tapped her temple. “Think about it, Suzi. Without Kawika, Jackie can talk more of Mitchell’s students into defecting. Maybe all of them.”
“Wow,” Trish stared at Kiki. “You might be right.”
“I didn’t just fall off the taro truck like some people around here.” Kiki set her empty glass on the carpet beneath her chair.
When Raymond Leahe finally re-appeared, he was still sweating like a pig without a mud hole.
“And now,” he looked everywhere but directly at the crowd, “from the island known as the Gathering Place, Oahu, Miss Kelani Lin.”
“Look at him,” Kiki whispered to Trish. “He’s quaking so hard he might wack himself with that mic and get a fat lip.”
“Maybe he’s going to pass out. Maybe he’s got what Kawika has.”
“Depends on whether or not Marilyn gave him one of her doctored up smoothies.”
28
Em Snoops Around
Em wished Sophie was there as she searched the hotel for Roland until one of the security guards told her that he was backstage. After convincing the man she had important information for the detective, he called the guard at the backstage entry point and told him to let her through.
She followed the scent of coconut oil along the corridor. It led her straight to Roland, who was still greased up and ready to perform his fire knife dance. He’d covered up with an aloha shirt but hadn’t buttoned it. His bare legs were exposed. Practically everything was exposed since he was wearing a malo, which barely covered his important parts.
Roland was on the phone but held up a hand to acknowledge her. At a pause in the conversation he gave her a quick smile and mouthed hi.
“Are you still going on tonight?” she asked.
“I’m calling a replacement right now.”
Her gaze kept slipping to his open shirt and the bare brown skin beneath.
“See anything you like?”
“Ha ha.” She looked away. Her cheeks lit up hot as his flaming knives.
“I feel ridiculous conducting an investigation in this get up.” He went back to making arrangements for a replacement over the phone. When he ended the call he automatically started to put the cell in his back pocket. He looked down at his malo and sighed.
“Have you heard anything from the hospital?” Em asked.
“Kawika is in critical condition. He’s got diarrhea, vomiting, abdominal cramps and electrolyte imbalance. Symptoms that could mean anything. He’s been under a lot of stress after Mitchell’s death and taking over the organization of the festival. It could be food poisoning or something worse. They don’t know yet. I asked for the doctor to run extensive toxicology tests.”
“Do you think he was poisoned?” She pictured Marilyn skulking around in her ridiculous oversized hat and glasses. He shrugged. “I hope not, but now I’m sure it’s more than coincidence that he’s the third one to go down in the same halau.”
“Kiki is still convinced Marilyn is behind this.”
“But you’re not.”
“It’s just so crazy. Are you starting to suspect her?”
“Why take out Mitchell’s halau?” he speculated. “What’s in it for her? Why not just poison Kiki and end the feud?”
“She did accidentally give all the girls violent diarrhea, remember?”
They stood in a narrow hallway behind the stage area. A long expanse of linoleum tiled floors and exposed pipes on the ceiling led to the huge ballroom kitchen area. The sound of hushed voices reached them, and then one of the visiting kumu from Oahu appeared in the hall escorting his solo dancer to wait her turn.
Em looked around. “I have other information, but I really don’t feel comfortable discussing it here.”
“Me, either.” Roland picked up his fire knives and held them out to Em.
“What do you want me to do with those?”
“Carry them. Please.” He pointed to the lamp oil bottle on the floor not far away. “I’ll take the accelerant.”
Em took the long thin poles. Each had a knife on one end and a foam ball on the other. She imagined lighting them on fire, twirling them around and tossing them in the air.
“Want to give it a try sometime?”
“Did your toe just talk to you? Maybe you are psychic.” She glanced up at him as they walked down the hall. “I was just wondering how long it would take for my hair to grow back once it was singed off. Where are we going?”
“I want you to check out the dressing area for me. See if Jackie Loo Tong is in there.”
“I haven’t seen him anywhere. He wasn’t in the ballroom when Kawika collapsed.” She followed him through the back passageways of the hotel, through double glass doors into the spa registration area off the main lobby. A huge empty area in back had been partitioned off with poles draped with curtains for walls. The names of the various halau and their kumu were pinned to the curtain doorways.
As they passed Jackie’s assigned space, Roland nodded on his way toward a sign that read Sharpe. Em hung back and stopped at Jackie Tong’s dressing area. She took a deep breath and slightly pushed open the curtain. Inside, two local women were getting Jackie’s solo dancer ready to perform. One was putting on her makeup while the other was busy arranging flowers on an intricate hairdo. Both of them turned to look at Em. There was no sign of Jackie.
“So sorry,” Em shrugged and smiled. “Wrong room.” She noticed a space down the way for the Hula Maidens. She stopped outside Roland’s dressing area.
“Should I come in?” she asked.
“Sure.”
She pulled the curtain back. He was standing in the middle of the small space taking his haku ti leaf lei off his head.
“Jackie wasn’t there,” she mouthed.
Roland put the lei in a cooler against the far wall.
“Do you make those yourself for every performance?” she asked.
“My auntie is retired. She likes to make them for me. Keeps her busy.”
“She could make plenty of money making adornments for the Maidens.”
“She’s not senil
e enough yet.”
Em laughed. When he looked like he was about to untie his malo right in front of her, she turned and grabbed the curtain. “I’ll wait out in the lobby.”
“I’m not shy.”
“I am.” Too tempted to stay and watch, she hurried out.
The spa reception area was deserted. Em sat down in a chair to wait, picked up a Yoga magazine and wondered if all the women who were into Yoga were long and lean to begin with, or they were into it because they already looked good in Spandex tights and tank tops.
She’d signed up for a Yoga class in Hanalei once without knowing it was for advanced students. At five-four she felt like a dwarf surrounded by Amazons. It was Bikram Yoga where the temperature in the room was, for some mystical reason, cranked up to 100 degrees. She was dehydrated and seeing stars by the time it ended and barely able to crawl to her car.
Before she had time to thumb through more than half the magazine, Roland appeared in his aloha shirt, shorts, and rubber slippahs. He was carrying his small black spiral notebook. Em tossed the magazine back on the table.
“Let’s go talk by the pool. It should be nice and quiet out there right now.”
“Perfect,” Em said. A little peace and quiet didn’t seem like much to ask for.
29
More Insanity
They wandered down the winding cement path through lush, landscaped gardens full of palms, ginger and heliconia. Hawaiian music drifted on the trades, muted by the rush of the wide waterfall that cascaded into the pool and the sound of the waves hitting the beach. A handful of people were strolling outdoors, but most were inside at the fair or in the ballroom.
The small cabana that served food for the pool area was closed and shuttered for the evening. They sat down at one of the metal and glass tables closest to the beach beneath a black night sky spattered with bright stars.
“Nice outside,” he said.
“What’s it like going from one crisis to another?” Em watched him set his phone on the table atop his notebook.
“Kind of like you knowing the Hula Maidens.”
Two To Mango Page 16