“She stayed with us for a few months before she found a job at the motel.”
Ah, the plot thickened like the hot fudge Sadie was holding. “She didn’t have a job when she lived here?”
“Full-time work is hard to find on the island due to so many malihini willing to do whatever it takes to stay here. She was waitressing part-time but needed better employment. The full-time position with housing at the motel was a blessing.” They reached the kitchen and put their loads on the counter.
“Did you guys help her find the job at the motel?” The connecting path between the locations spoke of some kind of association.
“It just worked out,” Bets said, putting the dirty utensils in the sink. “God’s hands.”
“Of course,” Sadie said. For a moment, she put herself in Bets’s position—dedicated to the church, a faithful believer, married to a man who, while he obviously adored her, was demonstrative with other women. How would Sadie tolerate other women living in her house? The answer was instant. She wouldn’t tolerate it at all. Why did Bets? She was beautiful and talented and kind, which in Sadie’s mind should equate to having enough confidence to not put up with such a . . . demeaning and unwise situation.
Sadie was spared having to fill the silence as Pastor Darryl appeared in the doorway, jingling a ring of keys in one hand.
“There you are,” he said, grinning broadly as he crossed the floor into the kitchen. He leaned in to kiss Bets on the cheek before he draped his arm over Sadie’s shoulder. “Don’t wait up,” he said.
Sadie felt her face flush at his comment, but he laughed, and Bets smiled as though that were a typical joke between them. Sadie wanted to kick him in the shins.
Instead, she thanked Bets one last time, holding the other woman’s eyes for a second longer than normal, trying to communicate that she didn’t fault her for being uncomfortable with her husband’s actions. Whether or not Bets received the message, Sadie couldn’t be sure. When she looked over her shoulder as they exited, Bets was holding the edges of her sweater around herself as she watched them leave, a concerned expression on her face.
“So the Sand and Sea by way of Hattie’s?” Pastor Darryl said, holding open the back door of the church for her. “Hattie’s serves the best grilled pineapple. I’m not certain, but I think they put Tabasco sauce in the marinade.”
“Cayenne pepper, probably,” Sadie said automatically. “At least that’s how I’ve made it before. It goes really well with barbequed pork chops.”
“Ah, you’re a foodie like my Bets,” he said with a grin as he hurried a step ahead of her in order to open the door of the Jeep.
“Thank you,” Sadie said, acknowledging his chivalry as she climbed into the passenger seat, smoothing the skirt of her muumuu beneath her.
Pastor Darryl hurried around to the driver’s side, climbed in, and started up the engine. “So, Hattie’s?” he said again.
“I couldn’t eat a thing,” Sadie said, vastly uncomfortable with the idea of sitting across a table from this man and surprised by his offer. “You’ve already fed me too well.”
He draped his arm over the back of her seat as he drove, and she felt herself tense. She’d considered herself as someone far away from his standard of women, but now she wasn’t so sure. The thought no sooner entered her mind than she discarded it, embarrassed to be thinking that at all.
“I’d like to get to know you a little better,” he said. “Learn more about where you’ve come from and where you see yourself going.”
Holy cow, could he be any more creepy? “There’s really not much to say,” Sadie said, wanting to remind him that she wasn’t going to be a long-term member of his flock and therefore getting to know her wasn’t necessary. She did want to talk to him, but not under such casual circumstances, and late at night with just the two of them was far too casual for her comfort level. She would feel more secure with daylight at the very least. “And I’m quite tired. But thank you for the offer, and your hospitality tonight, and the ride to the motel. Perhaps I can come back tomorrow and we can finish our discussion about Noelani with you and your wife.”
He nodded, still smiling, and removed his arm from her seat in order to use both hands to steer the car around the corner. A few seconds later, he pulled up in front of the motel. Judging by the lights in the windows, only half a dozen rooms were rented out. The vacancy sign still flashed in the window. Sadie reached for the door handle, but Pastor Darryl grabbed her other hand, keeping her in the Jeep. For a moment, Sadie couldn’t breathe. Was he detaining her?
When he spoke, his voice was soft as a whisper, and she looked from his hand holding hers to his bowed head. “May the Holy Spirit be your guide, and may God whisper peace and comfort to your troubled soul, Sister Sadie.” He looked up and smiled at her. “If there is any way I can be of assistance, all you need do is ask.” He let go of her hand in order to reach into the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt and pull out a business card—just as Dr. McKay had done that afternoon—handing it to her across the seat.
She took the card and read his name and cell phone number. Along the bottom of the card was the scripture “Joined together in the same mind and in the same judgment. 1 Corinthians 1:10.”
“Thank you,” Sadie said.
“Just come by the church in the morning. I’m usually in my office from nine until one.”
“I’ll plan on it.” Sadie opened the door of the Jeep and let herself out. “Thanks again.”
He nodded and waited until she waved to him from the door of her room before he tapped his horn and did a U-turn on the street. Seconds later, Sadie let herself into her room and locked the door—one, two, three—flipped the swing bolt, and checked the window locks. Secure in her room, she turned on the TV for company and stayed up far too late updating her notes on her computer and doing searches on Pastor Darryl Earlhart and his wife.
She didn’t have Bets’s full name until she tracked down the details of their marriage certificate: Elizabeth Leilani Iliona Earlhart. She was listed as a resident of Kaua’i at the time of the marriage sixteen years earlier. Most of what she’d done since that time was church and community related—selfless, necessary roles that improved the world she lived in. It was hard to believe Bets could have had anything to do with what had happened to Noelani, but there had been some tension there, Sadie was sure of it. She wrote down some questions she wanted to ask Bets and Pastor Darryl the next day, before Gayle arrived. The more she learned, the more information she’d have for Gayle to help her process.
Sadie’s Sassy Grilled Pineapple
1 teaspoon honey
3 tablespoons melted butter or balsamic vinegar
Dash of cayenne pepper
1 fresh pineapple, peeled, cored, and sliced into 3/4-inch thick rings
Dash of salt
Combine the honey, butter or vinegar, and cayenne pepper in a large zip-top bag. Add pineapple slices and allow to marinate for at least 1 hour.
Grill 4 to 5 minutes, turning halfway through, on cleaned and lightly oiled grill. Serve warm.
Notes: If using canned, sliced pineapple, dry rings on a paper towel before marinating. You can also thread 1-inch chunks of fresh or canned pineapple onto metal skewers or soaked bamboo skewers instead of grilling pineapple rings. (Most grocery stores will core the pineapple for you if you ask a produce employee.) Pineapple can also be broiled in the oven on the middle rack for 15 minutes, turning halfway through.
Chapter 25
Sadie slept until seven o’clock Friday morning, but once she woke up, she was strangely energized rather than exhausted by the events of the previous day. She took a shower, and then fought with her hair until accepting the fact that even if she couldn’t get it to look like it had when Lou styled it, it looked much better than it had before she’d gone to the salon.
She put on the clean muumuu she’d brought—a light pink with baby blue hibiscus—and adjusted the elasticized ruffle around the neck. Braver women would pull
the ruffle down around their shoulders for a saucier look, but Sadie had bought it for the length and the flattering cut that dipped in just enough at the waist to show she had a figure. The featherlight cotton hit her just below the knee, and once it was on, she wouldn’t think about it for the rest of the day, it was that comfortable.
Before leaving, she straightened her room and put Charlie’s list on top of the pile of papers she’d collected so far. She smiled, liking the list being in its rightful place—on top because it was the most important . . . even though she hadn’t actually answered anything yet.
Mount Wai’ale’ale was considered the rainiest place in the world, and, as usual, the sidewalk was wet with the remnants of the nightly rain. The moisture would be gone within the hour, Sadie guessed, evaporating back into the sky and adding to the humidity. She loved how the world here seemed to be washed clean every night to start bright and shiny each morning. She knew it was another aspect of Kaua’i she would miss once she returned home.
The continental breakfast in the office of the motel consisted of prepackaged Danishes, orange juice, and bananas. There was a different girl behind the front desk this morning, dark skinned and dark haired, but wearing the same kind of green-and-white aloha shirt that Ashley had worn the night before. Sadie held her breath until she reached the counter and read “Kiki” on the girl’s name tag. Hopefully she knew Noelani better than Ashley had.
A couple was looking through a display of brochures, so Sadie took her time with breakfast and didn’t approach Kiki until the couple had left. Once alone, Sadie wanted to dive right in with her questions, but she took her time and chatted with Kiki about the weather and fun things to do in the area before working her way into a conversation about Noelani.
Kiki immediately looked at the desk, suddenly busy with straightening stacks of papers.
“Were you friends with her?” Sadie pushed.
Kiki nodded, looking toward the front doors as though hoping someone would come in and interrupt them.
“What can you tell me about her?” Sadie asked. “I’m just trying to get a better picture of who she was.”
Kiki stopped going through the files, but didn’t face Sadie. “I really can’t talk about her.”
A man and his son came in, grabbed breakfast, and left after asking Kiki about the nearest Redbox. As soon as they were gone, Sadie picked up right where she’d left off; Kiki was back at the desk.
“Why can’t you talk about it? Is it upsetting?”
Kiki shook her head, then stopped and turned to face Sadie. For the first time, Sadie noticed Kiki was pregnant—five or six months, Sadie would guess. She had a small frame so it was an obvious baby bump. “Well, yes, it is sad, but . . . well . . .”
Sadie offered up her softest, most trustworthy smile. “Yes?”
Kiki glanced at the door behind Sadie then said, “The owner asked those of us who knew Noelani not to talk to anyone about her. It’s bad for morale.”
“I certainly won’t tell him anything you tell me.”
“I’m sorry,” Kiki said, putting her hands on her belly. “I really need this job.”
Sadie’s arguments fizzled as her protective side took over. She came up with another idea. “What’s the owner’s name?”
“Jim,” Kiki said, pointing to a plaque on the wall that honored a James Bartley for outstanding service back in 1999. A quick glance at the office with the curling wallpaper by the door, faded teal curtains beside the window, and the pressed wood furniture made Sadie think 1999 might have been the last good year the motel had had.
“Maybe I’ll talk to him.” She hadn’t meant it to sound like a threat, but the way Kiki’s eyes went wide she realized it could sound like one. “I certainly won’t say anything about having talked to you. I’ll just pretend to have gone to him in the first place. What time does he come in?”
For a few seconds, Kiki seemed to go back and forth on what to do, but finally she told Sadie that Jim was at the expedition office—a separate building next to the motel where he kept the boat he used for tourist groups. He was taking a group out at nine thirty and would be getting ready for the outing right now.
“Thank you,” Sadie said. “I would still like to talk to you about Noelani. Could I talk to you when you finish your shift?”
“Sure,” Kiki said, but her voice was hollow. “I’m not off until two, and then I have class at three thirty at the community college. I’ll have to figure out a good time.”
Sadie gave Kiki her cell number, which Kiki put into her phone before stashing it under the desk. “Call me with a time and place,” Sadie said. “I really appreciate it.”
The garage was next to the motel on the east side, set back from the road, but still easily found. A sign above the door read Bartley Expeditions. Jim Bartley was apparently an entrepreneur within numerous vertical industries of the tourist trade.
Just before letting herself in, Sadie’s phone signaled that she’d received a text message.
Kaua’i flight lands at 10:13. Can’t wait to see you!
Sadie’s stomach flipped with suppressed nerves, and she leaned her back against the metal pre-fab building as she took a deep breath. Gayle’s arrival was getting closer every minute, and she took a moment to reply.
See you soon!
Seconds later, she let herself into the small waiting area. A chest-level counter created a barrier between where she stood and an orange metal door she presumed led to the shop taking up most of the building. The waiting room was utilitarian, with posters on the wall featuring the underwater reefs surrounding Kaua’i as well as the Na Pali cliffs on the north side. The pictures triggered her anxiety, so she ignored them and approached the counter to tap the bell sitting there. “Hello?”
The shop door opened and a man came through. He was tall, with brown outgrown hair, light brown skin, a slight belly pressing against the blue cotton of his sleeveless shirt, and blue eyes. His eyebrows were thick, as were his arms. “Can I help you?” His tone was brusque and his expression intense.
“Um, yes,” Sadie said. “I wanted to talk to Jim Bartley.”
“I’m Jim. What do you need?”
“I’m trying to learn more about Noelani Pouhu,” Sadie said, already feeling him dismissing her. “I understand she worked for you.”
His hard expression turned even harder. “I’m busy,” he said, then turned and disappeared through the shop door.
Sadie waited, hoping he’d realize how rude he’d been and come back. He didn’t. After a few seconds, she took a breath and headed for the door herself. People could be so difficult sometimes.
She let herself into the shop and looked around. There was a wall full of accessories—life jackets, paddles, fishing gear, nets, and a few kayaks. Another wall had a long counter built into it, covered with tools and other odds and ends. In the center of the garage was a fishing boat—not too different than the ones some of her neighbors owned for weekend water skiing trips on North Sterling Reservoir. Jim’s boat was off-white due to age, with an open bow and a covered helm. A thick orange stripe wrapped around the entire vessel. She could see Jim Bartley’s shoulder at the back of the boat where he seemed to be working on the motor.
“I just have a few questions,” she said as she moved toward him. “You can keep working.”
He glanced up at her, still irritated, then went back to whatever he was doing.
“You with the police?” Jim asked, twisting something a little tighter.
“No,” Sadie said. “Just myself.”
“So what’s Noelani to a haole like you?”
She chose to assume he wasn’t using the term in a derogatory manner, though that was giving him an awful lot of credit. “I found her body,” Sadie said, using the excuse automatically since it had proved itself effective in other discussions. “In the ocean last week. It’s been a little haunting, and I’m hoping to find some closure by learning more about her.”
He glanced up at her again,
an annoyed expression in his eyes, before going back to his engine. When he didn’t say anything else, she chose to assume he was okay with her reason for being here. At least, he hadn’t told her to leave yet.
Sadie cleared her throat, wishing she wasn’t so nervous. “So, did you know her?”
“I was her boss. Of course I knew her.”
“And she lived at the motel, right?”
“Yes.” He moved to the counter and rummaged in a toolbox for something.
Banana Split Page 17