Two To Mango

by Jill Marie Landis

  “I’ll call you, and we’ll set up something for Friday night.” He acted as if he hadn’t just kissed her senseless.

  “What was that all about?” Em tried to focus. She was actually dizzy.

  “That was something to think about while you’re on that official date with your fictional crime solving neighbor.”

  41

  How Does Your Garden Grow?

  The week started with the kind of brilliant blue sky that made Kauai locals forget that it could rain buckets on the North Shore. Light trades kept the occasional cloud passing by with no more than a misty sprinkle. Em woke up Monday morning and padded through the house barefoot looking for Louie. He was gone and so was his truck, so she figured he’d taken off for the post office and to pick up groceries.

  She slipped into her Speedo swimsuit, grabbed her towel, mask and snorkel and hit the beach. The coral in front of the house had conveniently formed an underwater ring that created a huge natural pool. It was Em’s favorite place to do her workout. Wearing a mask allowed her to see a rainbow of tropical fish.

  But today the fish went unnoticed. With every stroke she thought Roland, Roland, Roland and had to stop herself. She checked her watch, and once she’d put in the obligatory thirty minutes, she swam to the shore and got out of the water. It was only eight in the morning. There was a mound of work piled up on the desk in the office, but she didn’t have to get to it until nine. Work could wait.

  Em pulled off the mask and snorkel, and after shaking out her hair, spread her towel and sat in the sun, content to take a few minutes to watch the waves lap against the shoreline. The sun was warm. The trade winds rustled the palms that lined the property. Em closed her eyes, cleared her mind and thought of the images of the surf as the earth’s heartbeat. The constant, even rhythm lulled her into a relaxed stupor, and she actually stopped thinking about Detective Sharpe and the way he’d kissed her last night—until she felt someone in the sand beside her.

  Em opened her eyes, expecting to see Roland.

  But it was Nat sitting cross legged in the sand in khaki shorts and a white T-shirt with a Crime Doesn’t Pay logo of a microscope and a pair of handcuffs printed on the front.

  She sat up. The trades and the salt water had played havoc with her loose hair. She brushed it back off her face.

  “You’re up early.” She glanced at her watch again. Twenty minutes had flown by.

  “I try to stay on mainland time while I’m here. Easier to adjust when I go back.”

  She glanced at the pages in his hand.

  “These are for you.” He handed them over, and Em glanced at them.

  “Already?”

  Nat shrugged. “I told you I like to research. I’ve been up since five.”

  On the top page was a photograph labeled Castor Bean Plant. Nat pointed to it.

  “Those grow like weeds all over the world. You’ll even find them in parks and gardens. They’re originally from Eastern Africa.”

  “And they’re all over Kauai.”

  “Right. Drive down the road, and you’ll start to recognize them.”

  She turned a couple of pages and stopped. “Tiko has a tree like this . . . or maybe it’s a bush . . . in her garden. It was so beautiful I asked about it.” She tapped the picture. “This is poisonous?”

  “Yes. It’s called angel’s trumpet.”

  “So she told me.” She read the description next to the photo of the lovely white trumpet or bell-shaped bloom and then went down the list of poisoning symptoms.

  “What’s mydriasis?”

  “Pupil dilation,” he said.

  Em read the rest aloud. “In large amounts it causes flushed skin, tachycardia, delirium, hallucinations, urinary retention, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea. This reads like a laundry list of symptoms you don’t want to have.”

  “With care and knowledge, the plant is also to treat asthma,” Nat said.

  “Tiko told me her grandmother was into herbal cures.”

  “It’s also known to cause euphoria and hallucinations. There was a lot of interest in it in the seventies when LSD was first popular.”

  “I wonder if Buzzy’s tried it.”

  “You think he’d remember?”

  She shook her head and looked at the list again. “Tachycardia. Rapid heartbeat isn’t something you’d want if you had a severe heart condition like Mitchell Chambers. He’d have had to have ingested a large amount of the toxin.”

  “Stems, roots, and blossoms can be boiled into tea.”

  She flipped through the pages and studied pictures of Kauai’s poisonous plants.

  “Poinsettia, plumeria, oleander, be-still.” Em shook her head. “These plants are everywhere, not just in Tiko’s garden. We have plumeria and poinsettia right over there.” She pointed to the plants around Louie’s house.

  “Oleander and be-still seeds are highly poisonous. Even inhaling the dust can cause damage to airways.”

  “Pua kala.” She tapped another photo of a lovely white bloom.

  “Hawaiian poppy. Did you see any of those?”

  Em shook her head. “I don’t think so. Could be.”

  “It says here they’re mostly in botanical gardens.”

  “I’m not kidding you, Nat. This woman’s yard is a botanical horror show.”

  He reached over her and turned the pages until he found the photo he was looking for. “Did you see any pokeberries? The roots are really deadly. So are the leaves and stems. It says tea brewed from pokeberry plants is highly toxic.”

  Em read aloud. “People use the plant as greens despite the danger.” She shook her head. “Are they nuts?”

  “No they’re berries.”

  She nudged her shoulder into his. “Ha ha. Not funny, considering.”

  “Anyone already under a doctor’s care for something like congestive heart failure or any major heart problem could ingest one of these poisons brewed from the angel’s trumpet. Mitchell Chamber’s heart might have sped up fast enough for tachycardia to kill him,” he said.

  “And there wouldn’t be any toxicology tests?”

  “Not if he was under a doctor’s care and suffering from extensive heart disease.” His expression was thoughtful. “What disease did you say the woman had? The first one to die?”

  “An autoimmune disease. Roland said hemolytic anemia.”

  “I thought that’s what you’d say. It’s associated with heart problems, including heart failure. Under the right circumstances, any poisoning that caused heart failure in that case could go unnoticed.”

  “As with Mitchell.”

  She lined up the edges of the stack of pages in her hand and looked at the man beside her. Nat had leaned back on his hands, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles and was staring out at the ocean. The trades ruffled his curly light hair. She guessed he was in his early forties, but his hair showed no sign of thinning. He had a great career and was obviously interested in her.

  So why did she want to call Roland right now? Was it to tell him about Tiko’s bouquet of poisonous plants, or because she couldn’t stop thinking about his kiss? She dug her toes into the warm sand.

  “Have you had time to tell Louie about the reality show idea?” Nat asked.

  “Not yet. He was up and out early, but I’ll talk to him soon, I promise.”

  “You don’t like the idea.”

  “I’m not sure I’d like the invasion. Our neighbors in Newport rented out their home to a film company once. The street was closed and crowded with huge trucks, the film and catering crews, not to mention all the trailers for the stars’ dressing rooms. All that would wipe out our parking lot, and then where would our customers park?”

  “It wouldn’t be as much as all that. The ‘stars’ are all of you. N
o need for dressing rooms. The crew can park in my yard.”

  He had a solution for every reservation she had.

  Em glanced at her watch. “Kimo gets in around nine-thirty, so I’d better get going.”

  “Are the Maidens coming in to practice?”

  “Not today. I think the weekend did them in.” Em stood up. She waited for Nat to rise before she picked up her towel and shook the sand out of it. “Thanks again for all this great info.”

  “Easy. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  She was still focused on calling Roland when Nat asked, “Are we still on for Wednesday night?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  Nat smiled. “Just checking.”

  As he headed down the sand toward his yard next door, Em thought about the wide open windows in the Goddess and wondered if he’d seen Roland kiss her last night.

  Em showered, dressed, and was in the office by nine-thirty. The phone on the old wooden desk Louie had had for over forty years was ringing when she walked in, and there were six messages on the answer machine.

  “Tiki Goddess Bar and Restaurant.” She grabbed a pencil and notepad.

  It was the concierge at the Island Holidays Hotel giving her a heads up that there were two minivans full of Rhinos headed their way for lunch tomorrow. She thanked him and made a note to tell Kimo and Sophie the minute they walked in. She listened to the messages and made a couple of call backs.

  She was able to put off calling Roland until she’d handled the messages, but before she got into calling food and liquor distributors, she turned to the stack of poisonous plant materials and hit his programed number on her cell.

  “Sharpe,” he answered.

  Yes you are, she thought.

  “My neighbor brought over the ricin information this morning.”

  “And . . .”

  “Are you too busy to talk right now? If so, I can call you back.”

  “Nope. I got a call and was out late. You woke me up.”

  “I’ll call back.”

  “I’m up now.”

  “And grumpy.”

  “I need coffee.”

  She heard him shuffling around, the sound of water running and imagined him barefoot in the kitchen making a pot of coffee.

  “Wala’au. Talk story,” he said.

  “He printed up a lot of information on other toxic tropical plants. I could take a stroll through our yard, mix up some tea and possibly take out a whole lot of people.”

  “Hopefully you won’t.”

  “Tiko’s garden is a death trap. I saw plants that match the photos on the information sheets.”

  “Can you meet me for breakfast someplace? Unofficially?”

  “By unofficially do you mean an unofficial date or that I’m working on this unofficially?” She caught herself smiling into the phone.

  “Both. You’ll know when we’re on a real date.”

  “I can’t today. I’m slammed with paperwork, and we have two van loads of Rhinos coming in tomorrow.”

  “You’re cell is cutting out. I thought you said rhinos.”

  “I did. Rhinos. They’re like Elks and Lions.”

  “Pretty exotic menu.”

  “I’ll explain later. I still don’t want to believe Tiko did this, but I wanted you to know that she has the means to have poisoned Mitchell and Shari without using castor beans.”

  “Thanks, Em. I appreciate this.”

  She found herself stalling, not ready to end the call. “How’s Kawika?”

  “Hanging on. It’s almost been forty-eight hours. He may make it.”

  “Is he conscious?”

  “Not yet. We don’t know any more than we did, just that there wasn’t anything suspicious in Tiko’s smoothie supplies or packages.”

  “What about her cousin Charlotte? She worked in the booth. Maybe she saw something.”

  “We interviewed her. She was only helping Tiko out because of the size of the festival crowd. She’s working for Garden Island Vacation Rentals, has great references and said she hasn’t been back on island very long.”

  “She may have unknowingly delivered the poisoned smoothie.”

  “She’s got no motive,” he reminded her.

  Kimo stuck his head into the office. Em waved him in.

  “Listen, Roland. I’ve got to go.”

  “Can you fax me a list of those plants? Save me some time?”

  “Sure.”

  “Great.”

  She thought he was going to say goodbye but he said, “Remember you’re saving Friday night for me. Officially.”

  “Got it,” she said.

  “Unless I get a call and have to work.”

  “Right.”

  Hopefully nobody else would be poisoned or run off with a chicken suit on Friday.

  42

  Kiki’s New Attitude

  The weather held. Tuesday morning was as bright and sunny as the day before, except for the occasional misting trade shower. Kiki pulled into the lot at the Goddess promptly at eight twenty. She wanted to get there before the other gals, who were due to arrive at nine. Louie was on the lanai waiting to greet her.

  “Aloha kakahiaka, Kiki.”

  “Good morning to you, Louie. You’re looking dapper as ever.”

  She wasn’t just blowing smoke. With his head full of white hair, perpetual tan, quiver of aloha shirts and white linen pants, he was every bit a dashing man-about-the-island. If she was older and single she might have gone after him herself.

  “Congrats on winning third place at the competition.”

  “Mahalo. Our scores weren’t half bad. Nowhere as bad as before, anyway. I’m actually thinking next year’s number already.” She felt as light as a champagne bubble for a change.

  “Can’t start too soon.”

  “What are you up to?” She followed him inside the bar and set the boom box and CDs down on the edge of the low stage.

  “I’m working on a new drink. We’ve got a bunch of those Rhinos coming in for lunch today, and I thought I’d make up something special. In fact, I was just going to take a sample over to Letterman and let him try it.”

  “Can I watch?” The parrot tasted and approved of all of Louie’s creations, but she had never seen David Letterman at work.

  “Sure. Come with me.”

  He led her back through the office, out the door and across the parking lot to the house. The place was comfortably worn in, not posh like the newly remodeled or recently built homes on the beach. The screen door banged shut behind them. They walked across the lanai and into the wide, airy living room. Louie stepped behind the tiki bar in the corner of the room beside the tall iron cage where the macaw spent his indoor hours.

  “I’m calling it Coconut Rum Rhino. How’s that sound?”

  Kiki pictured Little Estelle with the horn strapped to her head.

  “How about Horny Rum Rhino?”

  Louie shot his fist in the air. “Perfect!”

  “What’s in it?” She leaned on the bar and watched him read ingredients off a scrap of paper before he measured them out.

  “Three kinds of Jamaican rum, light and dark, along with some cream of coconut and some pineapple juice.”

  The minute he dumped ice into the cocktail shaker David Letterman started pacing back and forth on his perch bobbing his head.

  The bird screeched, “Lime in da coconut! Lime in da coconut! Shake it tall up!”

  “Hang on there, Dave.” Louie finished up with the splash of pineapple juice and started shaking. “Line up two glasses and one of those tall shot glasses for me,” he said.

  Kiki walked behind the bar and got out two old fashioned glasses and set them on top.r />
  Kiki didn’t like the way the blood red parrot was staring at her.

  “Like I’m going to steal your share,” she mumbled at Dave as she set down his shot glass.

  “How old is he?”

  “He’s around sixty. Macaws can live to be a hundred, so I’m leaving him to Em.”

  “I’ll bet she’s thrilled.”

  Louie filled the glasses with ice and strained the samples into them. He filled the tall jigger, then opened the door to Dave’s cage.

  “Down the hatch! Down the hatch!” The parrot bounced up and down in a frenzy as Louie poured the drink into an empty drinking cup hooked to the side of the cage.

  Letterman grabbed the bars with his claws and hung upside down, guzzling the cocktail until it was gone. He got back on his perch, reared his head back then leaned forward and made a spitting sound.

  “Yuck! Yuck! Patooie!”

  “He hates it.” Louie tasted his own sample. “I don’t get it. I think it’s pretty good.”

  Kiki watched the parrot act as if he’d been poisoned by spitting and yucking it up. She lifted her glass and took a sip.

  “I think it’s good. Considering it’s not nine in the morning yet, it goes down pretty smooth. It’s a pretty creamy color. What’s not to like?”

  “It needs a bit of adjustment.” There was still some in the cocktail shaker. Louie made a note on the scrap of paper, poured a little more dark rum into the shaker and shook it. The parrot matched the motions and bobbed up and down.

  Louie refilled Dave’s empty water dish and waited.

  Letterman took one sip and then another. Soon the extra water container hooked to the side of the cage was empty. The parrot was a little slower in responding but he still wasn’t satisfied with the mix.

  “Patooooie.” He followed up with choking sounds that reminded Kiki of one of her cats before it hurled a furball.

  “Shoot.” Louie tasted the second batch. “I think it’s pretty good.”

  Kiki leaned close to the cage, and the bird started shrieking like a stuck pig.

  “Did you ever think maybe he’s playing you?”

  Louie paused with a bottle of light rum in his hand. “What do you mean?”