by Eve Gaal
The Hilo chief told the Waikiki chief that the criminals were calling this whole undertaking 'Operation Penny,' and the mysterious events surrounding the trespasser were connecting her to the shipment, making her appear guilty.
“What does this trespasser look like?” The chief asked the person on the phone. Chuckling, he finally said, “Really? Okay, I'll get back to you. Thanks.” Hanging up the receiver, the chief gazed at John, whose eyes reminded him of a stray pup his youngest had dragged into the kitchen yesterday.
“Does she have red hair?” The chief asked.
“Yes, John said eagerly, moving closer, a twinge of excitement in his voice.
Picking up the photo of the kid on the diving board, the chief asked, “Not just strawberry blonde, but major firecracker red, like this little fellow of mine?”
“Yes, yes, do you know where she is?” John's heart began thumping and rolling, like a bowling ball slamming pins against the wall of his chest.
The chief found the form and rolled his chair backward in order to get up. The twinkle in his eyes had faded into a stern, concerned look that brought out wrinkles, making him look sad. “I don't know for certain, but they have a red-haired lady over at the Kauai station. I guess she happened to trespass on the Forbidden Island of Niihau.” Pulling at the end of his mustache he added, “Her name is Penny and they've been questioning her regarding a big shipment of drugs.” Standing up, he started walking John out to the lobby.
Penny and drugs? No, it must be another Penny. She worked at a newspaper, she didn't take drugs and she would never sell drugs to anyone. His loose bandages and the bloody laces on his tennis shoes made him self-conscious. Did he appear suspicious? Perspiration dripped down his back and he became aware of the horrible fact that he probably smelled. Trespass? Why would she trespass?
The chief seemed to sense John's discomfort and asked, “That doesn't sound like the red-head you're looking for does it?”
“No, it definitely doesn't sound like my Penny.” Could it? His mind raced into the past. Had she taken drugs? Did the biker boyfriend teach her the ropes to drug smuggling? Maybe the nude model needed to model nude to support his habit. Did people with tattoos fit a criminal profile? No, not the Penny he knew. The one who cooked, cleaned and took toilet maintenance classes at the hardware store? John quietly followed the chief, but in his head he kept rehashing his conversations, her whispered terms of endearments, her jokes laced with double-entendres and still he found no trace of drugs in anything they ever talked about.
“I have to get back to work son, but I have this form for you to fill out,” the chief said, winking at the woman at the counter. “You fill this out and bring it right back to the front desk, and we'll get back to you. We want to help, anyway we can.” He turned toward his office and back to John, “Oh, and could you please be patient with my front desk clerk?” The twinkle was back, sparkling in his eyes, but John's head was so bogged down with mysterious questions, he didn't notice.
It felt like someone had dragged his head along the cold tile floor of the entire station. John forced himself to smile at the chief. “I'm glad I came to see you. At least she's not dead. Thank you.” He shook the chief's hand and said, “She'll turn up, she always does.”
* * *
Chapter Seventy
Outside, John felt renewed and slightly refreshed. Taking a deep salt-spray scented breath, he closed his eyes and thanked God that Penny was alive. Now he just had to call her hotel or find her flight home. Simple. That was when he realized he needed Tina. She wasn't that bad, he thought, taking a deep breath. Besides, Tina wanted to find her too—least she said she did. Standing in front of the Waikiki station, he inhaled and loudly exhaled. At first, the only sound he heard was his breath; seconds later, his ears tuned into Jingle Bells emanating from sidewalk speakers. Layers of sound multiplied around him. He heard traffic, children playing and giggling, followed by the loud wail of a siren turning into the parking lot of the station. Serious looking officers pulled two suspects from the back seat of the cruiser, yanking them onto their feet so they could walk towards the station. John darted toward the far end of the parking lot and watched the officers shuffling and pushing both of them into the building. No, it couldn't be…could that be Heidi? Scratching his head, John quickly put on his sunglasses and ducked behind a small car, peering over the hood. Who was that good-looking guy without the shirt? What was Heidi doing here and why was she wearing her bathing suit? Did she recognize him? Horrible thoughts occurred to John as he ran from the station parking lot. What if they suspected him too? He did spend a whole bunch of time with Heidi and if she was guilty of something…shit…the hotel concierge, the front desk clerk, the swimsuit sales lady; the bartender, Carl…everyone on Waikiki had seen them together. He kept on running and running until finally he came upon a cul-de-sac with a tiny, old church nestled between some overgrown trees. “Jesus,” John gasped, falling onto his knees on a manicured lawn. “This is exactly where I need to be.”
* * *
Chapter Seventy-One
Four hours had gone by, maybe five–she couldn't think clearly. It had been the worst experience of her life.
“How long were we tied up in that little room?” Tina asked. Sitting next to Ron at the Hilo Police station, she stifled a yawn. Clearing themselves of any association with Darin's drug shipments became a long messed up fiasco. “Was it five hours?”
“Two hours Tina, three at the most,” Ron said staring at her lovely profile, “Where did you come up with five hours?”
“I don't know,” she said, it was hot, uncomfortable and I had to pee.”
Ron laughed, “Tina, you're the bravest, most beautiful woman I've ever met.” Reaching over to squeeze her hand, he added, “The way you told that little slime-bucket to put me down, I couldn't believe it.”
“Little?” Tina asked, “That short ball of muscle almost shot both of us. I should have just shut my big mouth.” She yawned and pulled his hand up to cover her mouth.
“That mouth helps our paper, Tina. That gorgeous mouth helps you make a whole bunch of money and it used to help Darin sell tons of cars. That mouth is the key to your success.”
“Ron,” Tina said looking into his eyes, “I guess the FBI is staking out the place now. Hope they catch those miserable pieces of human waste. Nothing would matter if we were dead.” Karma had intervened, she supposed, sparing their lives. Darin's current troubles combined with his wandering fly made her feelings justified, giving her a sense of calmness and peace. She continued to stare at Ron, her bumbling ex-boss who thought the world of her. She enjoyed the way he voraciously drank in her features like a sex-starved man who had lived ten years of his life in the middle of a barren desert. To him she had become an embodiment of a bottomless oasis. A fountain of unlimited flowing champagne and good fortune wrapped in soft skin, perfume and high heels. They were meant to be.
“But Tina, we're not dead and I'm sure we'll take you back at the Globe,” he stated, squeezing her fingers. “Of course there's a small issue regarding harassment….”
“Forget it, Ron,” she said smiling, “you know I'll drop the whole thing.”
Leaning over to kiss her, he whispered, “I really do love you.”
“I know,” she said, “I love you too.”
* * *
Chapter Seventy-Two
Once inside the burger joint, Penny wondered if her so-called vacation could get any worse. Her shaking hands pulled the last bill from her wallet.
“An avocado burger, fries and a shake,” she said to the teenager at the counter.
“Anything else?” he asked in a squeaky voice.
“No,” Penny replied, feeling enormous hunger pains involuntarily responding to the delicious smell of fried food. “That should do it.” When her hands still shook offering him the ten, she scolded her fatigue and her hungry desire. Settle down, she told herself, it's all part of the adventure.
“That'll be fifteen dol
lars and twenty-nine cents,” she heard the immature voice say.
“Are you kidding?” Penny asked, wondering why she felt disgusted with everyone and everything. Looking at the young guy's face, she could tell he obviously spoke the truth. He had the innocent, wide-eyed, acne-marked appearance of someone working their first job. “Fine, forget the fries.”
The guy pushed some buttons on his cash register and said, “Ten dollars and seventy-seven cents.”
Opening her bag, she scoured the bottom for change. She placed the contents of everything on the counter: Lip-gloss, sunglasses, a tightly wrapped and wrinkled yellow muumuu, a wallet and a plane ticket. Next came one of the hiking boots, her socks and underwear. People were waiting to place their order and her hands were shaking again. Finally, rolling around in the second hiking boot, she found two quarters and handed them to the young man. “Here's ten dollars and fifty cents, can I owe you the other twenty-seven cents?” She asked with a wink.
“I don't know, hold on.” Turning around, he walked into the kitchen. Penny couldn't hear the exact conversation but she heard a woman's voice, loudly scolding the young man. Moments later, she recognized the unmistakable clanging of a large pan prior to the appearance of an irate looking Asian woman bustling from behind swinging doors. The young man followed her, his head shamefully hanging to the floor.
“Can't, sorry,” she snarled at Penny. “If I start with you, then I have five hundred children with same problem. Pretty soon, everyone knows I am sucker. No, sorry.” She turned around and before returning to the kitchen, she wiped her hands on her apron and mumbled something about being a sucker.
“O…kay,” Penny said, returning her boots to her bag. “How about the avocado burger and water? How much is that?” Loud sounds growled from the pit of her stomach.
Slowly, the young man entered the information into the register, and said, “Seven dollars.”
“Cool. It better be good,” Penny said, shoving three dollars back into her wallet. While waiting, she stepped aside, to assess the entire contents of her tote bag. Besides her personal items and clothing, there was a maxed out credit card, sand, one teensy shell (they confiscated the others) and a very interesting ticket to the Big Island.
The sloth-like young guy behind the counter rang up the next two guests and what seemed like twenty minutes later, he brought her food. Inhaling the aroma, she smiled at the pimply faced kid when he set down the tray.
“I need to get to the airport after I eat,” she said. Can you tell me the fastest way to get there without a car? Is there a bus or something?”
The sunburn brought out her eyes, the pearl in her teeth, and the starlight in her smile. He didn't hesitate smiling back and said, “If you can wait an hour, I live by the airport. I'll take you.”
“Cool,” she said, unwrapping the burger. “I can wait.”
* * *
Chapter Seventy-Three
Ron held Tina's hand as they walked out the door. Brilliant rays of afternoon sunlight gleamed through the strands of gold in her blonde hair. Pulling his sunglasses from his chest pocket, he examined them, wiped them on his shirt and then confidently put them on. “I'm going to need a new pair,” he said. “Between getting tied up with your obnoxious friends and hugging you, these are squished.”
Tina laughed. “Friends? Is this the comedy channel, or are you requesting a knuckle sandwich?” Digging through her purse, she pulled out her keys and the doors made a small beeping sound. “The sun will be down soon. We have to go find John and Carl,” she said, patting his arm like a mother would a restless child. “Can we go buy some new sunglasses tomorrow?” Pulling him along, they got into one of Darin's demos. “Tomorrow, I'll take you Christmas shopping in Waikiki.”
“I still can't believe this is happening,” Ron exclaimed. “You mean you came all the way over here with John and Penny's dad, just so you could play repentant matchmaker?” He asked, buckling his seat belt.
“Kind of,” Tina said, “but don't forget Darin and….”
“Don't explain,” he said cutting in, “Please don't remind me of my previously sheltered life,” he said with an exaggerated smile, “like before someone mugged me at gunpoint.” He made a sad, pouty face and turned to kiss her lips. “I guess your man picking skills are improving.”
“Thanks,” she grinned, backing the car out. “I'll have to remember that you like getting tied up.”
“My life is in your hands, doll,” he chuckled, holding the dashboard, and squinting behind his crooked sunglasses.
“Good,” she said, “keep it that way.” She smiled again and kept her foot on the gas pedal, steering around other cars in the police lot. When the tires squealed, she felt delighted by her power over Ron. A surreptitious glance at his pasty skin, the blisters, the orange shirt with giant flowers, his horrible colored hair, the bony white knuckles and she had to laugh. “I'll get us there, don't worry.” Trying to reassure him, she reached over, and began stroking his thigh with her right hand. “Those G-men were nice, but they're nothing like you.”
“Very funny,” he said with a smile. “Now who's on that comedy channel?” His pallor changed from white to green, and whatever amount of blood drained far into his toes, as his body fell against hers when she veered onto the highway.
When he pulled down the visor to look in the mirror, he jumped from the ghastliness of his own reflection. “Where did you say we're going?” Ron gasped, realizing that driving and love were very distant entities.
“The airport. We have to go to Waikiki because that's where I left Carl and John.”
“Right,” he said, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth.
It didn't matter where, as long as they were together. For her, he would travel, albeit slower, to the ends of the earth.
* * *
Chapter Seventy-Four
John loved God, but he never went to church. He believed in heaven and hell and knew all about angels because of Penny, but he didn't even know how to say a prayer. The small worn building in front of him had a cross on top and a red painted heart on the front, above the wooden door. Huge tangles of pink, thorny roses combined with darker pink, thorny bougainvillea crawled up the sides of a tall stone crucifix that flanked the chapel near an overgrown cemetery. The damp lawn he had knelt on looked more like ground cover or clover, rather than grass. Inhaling deeply, he pulled open the heavy wooden door. Inside the dark, cold sanctuary, tiny candles glowed near the altar.
Bravely facing his fears and knowing that he had exhausted most of his options, he walked up to the front where a special red leather kneeler faced a carved crucifix. Kneeling, John clasped his palms together and said, “Jesus, I'm sorry I haven't talked to you, but I try not to complain about small things and I don't want to waste your time. This time though… I need help with something very important.” When the candles flickered, he looked around wondering if anyone else was lurking in the corners of the gloomy church. His heart pounded, but he continued, “It's about my girlfriend, Penny.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I love her so much. I can't imagine getting through this Christmas without her.” He wiped his tear, but another followed. “I don't know if she has some other guy, but if she does and you approve, well then there's nothing I can do about it. However, if you can grant me one wish this Christmas… just one….” A huge sob escaped his lips and tears gushed down his cheeks. “Of course I hope she's safe, but more than anything…” he said, gulping for air and taking a deep breath, “Please God, help me find Penny.” He closed his eyes, “I'll be good to her, I promise.” A second later, John paused, and whispered, “I'll be the best husband….”
Slowly, he stood to walk toward the exit while hoping and watching for a sign–a sign that The Almighty had heard his plea.
Near the foyer, he noticed little plaques with pictures of saints and brief descriptions of why they were canonized. John stood in front of each one and tried reading the faded descriptions etched under each icon. Salty tears still hu
ng on his drenched lashes, fogging his vision and the dim light in the sanctuary made it difficult to read. One plaque pictured Saint Joseph Damien De Veuster, (1840-1889) who ministered to a leper colony on Molokai. Finally, he came to a small rendering of a chubby friar by the name of St. Anthony of Padua, (1195-1231). Under a brief biography, John read aloud, “If you have lost something, pray for St. Anthony's intercession to help find what you seek.” Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, a smile came to his lips. “Thank you for giving me a sign.”
* * *
Chapter Seventy Five
The guy from the burger joint drove an old banged up, lowered Honda. When Penny got in and he took off for the airport, his weird music enhanced the putrid odor of gasoline.
“What is that?” she asked, trying not to sound judgmental. Acid rock mixed with gangster rap peppered an assorted mix of foul, thumping lyrics that pounded like a jackhammer into her brain. The seat cushions shook and she didn't want to make a big deal about it. Except it was a big deal. Seemed odd, she thought, that such a quiet looking little punk was so bold about overcoming his insecurities. Her question however, aimed at the mysterious smell of old French fries, lodged between the seats, mingling with the faint smell of perspiration.
“Music,” he yelled over the atomic sounds blasting from his speakers. Turning the volume even higher, he stepped on the gas, speeding towards Lihue.