Torch Ginger

by Toby Neal

  “Crap. Feel like a little trespassing?”

  “Sweets, c’mon. We’re detectives on the job. No probable cause here.” Jenkins had pulled up beside her.

  “I hear a scream?”

  “Down, girl. Get back in the truck. You don’t want to endanger anything we can get on them later, do you? We’ll have to call and tell them we’re coming.”

  “Shit. I wanted to get eyeballs on the place now.” Lei looked contemplatively at the gate, but in the distance she could hear the bellowing of a large dog. “Awful lot of security for a papaya farm.”

  “We’ll have to try again when they can let us in.”

  “I guess.” She got back in the truck and fired it up.

  “Have fun on your date,” Jenkins said with a grin as he pulled out. “I want all the details in the morning.”

  “Shit,” she muttered. “Almost forgot.”

  She drove slowly along the edge of the farm, scanning, but the whole property was securely fenced. There was nothing to see but acres of papaya trees, and nothing to hear but the distant thunder of the barking dog.

  Lei pulled under the vast portico of the Princeville Hotel, the door of her Tacoma opened by the valet. As she handed him her keys, she saw his eye run down her toned leg to the new slingback on her foot. She’d needed shoes too, and fortunately the boutique had some in her size.

  “Have a nice evening, miss,” the valet said as he got into the truck.

  “Thanks. I will.” Lei tugged down the short skirt of the narrow, strapless black dress she’d grabbed so hastily off the rack—a dress that turned out to be shorter and tighter than she’d estimated.

  Alika Wolcott reached for her hand as she looked up.

  “Wow,” he said. His golden eyes crinkled in a smile. He took a red rose from behind his ear and presented it with a flourish. “You look amazing.”

  “Thanks,” she said, the dangling weight of her aunt’s greenish purple Tahitian pearl earrings making her feel regal. She tucked the rose behind her ear and gave a nervous glance at his dazzling height in black trousers and jacket over an open-necked silk shirt. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  He shrugged. “Man outfits. All the same.”

  He escorted her with a light touch on her back through the huge doors into the lobby.

  Lei stared through a seamless bank of windows that framed an immense view of mountains, ocean, and sky. A black marble reflecting pool began at the entrance and ran the length of the lobby, appearing to fall into space as it sheeted in a waterfall to the next level below. Guests traversed a staircase on either side to the dining area. Lei caught her breath at the expanse, her eyes feasting on the vista.

  “Oh,” she said, and just stood for a moment. “It was worth coming just to see this.”

  “There’s more. A lot more.” Lei felt Alika’s eyes on her face, the butterfly touch of his finger on her bare collarbone. “You have a scar here. What happened?”

  “A perp bit me.”

  “Bit you? On the collarbone? I’m sure there’s a story there.”

  “Not one I want to tell.”

  “What a witty conversationalist. I’ll have to get you liquored up.” Lei laughed as he escorted her down the staircase. “You’re going to love the bar.”

  Lei craned her neck as they descended, looking at clear blown crystal chandeliers hung at different lengths on long, almost invisible cords from the ceiling. Droplets of fractured light danced in the waterfall beside them.

  He pointed to the right. “There’s the ballroom where the gala is being held.” His hand touched her back again as he guided her to the left. “The bar is down here.”

  They descended another flight of stairs, walking into gloom woven with wavering light. Lei looked up and realized they were underneath the pool where the waterfall splashed. A Plexiglas ceiling allowed the far-off light of the chandeliers to fall around them like golden coins. The black marble floor added to the feeling of being in an underwater cave.

  She looked up into the light, and—giving into impulse—spun around.

  “Oh,” she said, and smoothed her dress, an embarrassed smile curling up one side of her mouth. The rose had fallen on the floor. “I’m sorry. I had to do that.”

  He reached down and handed her the rose.

  “I don’t mind. I’ve often wanted to do the same.” He opened his arms wide and whirled around. For a moment he was limned in gold. “Now that we both have no dignity whatsoever, let’s go add some alcohol to the mix.”

  “You must’ve read my mind.”

  “What’ll you have?” The bartender leaned forward to take their order over a bar made of translucent Plexiglas embedded with little glowing lights.

  “Chardonnay,” Lei said. She sat on one of the clear molded stools and spun around to get a full sense of the place. “It’s underwater magic.”

  “Sometimes they turn on a disco ball in the main lobby, lower it down over the reflecting pool,” Alika said.

  “Want me to turn it on?” the bartender asked. Lei nodded, and the man pushed a button on the wall. They backed away from the bar and tipped their heads back to watch as a large disco ball lowered out of the ceiling of the lobby far above them, separated by layers of air, water, and Plexiglas. Sparks of colored light spun all over the room, and all the guests murmured.

  The music increased in volume. One of her parents’ favorite songs: “The Way You Look Tonight.”

  Alika took her hand without speaking and led her into the light-splashed space. They danced a gentle two-step around the room, and Lei felt the music moving through her. She relaxed into Alika’s hand in the center of her back, her cheek near his chest, her hand in his as they circled the room, other couples joining in. The song ended and Alika walked her back to the bar.

  Her chardonnay was waiting, pale and icy, along with his Scotch on the rocks. Lei sipped it appreciatively.

  “I have a thing about that song. My father used to sing it to my mom. Back when they were happy. I hardly remember that, but she would play it when she missed him.” Lei took another sip.

  “Funny how music can take you straight back to another time and place. I danced with Ruthie Kahakauwila in seventh grade to that song.”

  For the first time she let her eyes wander over his silk shirt, well-cut black trousers, the bold line of his jaw. When he was turned away from her, she could really look at him, and she gazed at the clean line of his profile in wonder. Genetics were an unfair mystery. She remembered Stevens’s rugged features with a pang—never quite handsome, his power and presence made him unforgettable, while Alika had both looks and charisma.

  “Don’t tell me your heritage—I want to guess.” He leaned toward her and in the dim light captured her chin, turning her face toward him. Spangles of moving colored light dappled them.

  “These lips—made for kissing—look Hawaiian to me. These eyes—full of fight and danger—look a little Japanese. And this skin.” He bent her face a little more into the light. “Your freckles—this skin—you’ve got Portuguese too. A true island princess.”

  Before she could stiffen or pull away, his mouth touched hers in a kiss, haunting in its gentleness. Her eyes drifted shut, her mouth turned up, and then she felt him leave—a cool breath of air fanning across her face as he moved away.

  She turned and took a big swig of wine. He was the first man she’d kissed since Stevens, and she still wasn’t sure she was ready for any of it. She was terrified of her response—the prickling of her breasts, the way her mouth tingled, hungering for more of his.

  He finished his drink and set a bill on the counter.

  “Shall we?”

  “Why not? Get it over with.” Lei’s nervous defiance was a familiar default mode. They walked into the ballroom where the event was underway. She blinked as she looked around, eyes adjusting to the bright light.

  “Champagne?” a waiter with a loaded tray asked.

  “Definitely.” She hooked a glass off the tray, her a
rm tucked into Alika’s as she took it all in. A well-dressed crowd formed a line beside a lavish buffet while a Hawaiian-music quartet played onstage in front of an open dance area. Lei broke away to examine velvet-covered tables forming a bay filled with silent-auction treasures. She looked back—an attractive woman had already cornered Alika. She turned to study the artworks, jewelry, flower arrangements, and fruit baskets in front of her.

  “I like this.” A long finger pointed to the delicate rose-pink of a densely woven kahelelani shell necklace in front of her.

  “Me too.” Lei turned to the finger’s owner, a tall man with a gleaming kukui-nut lei over the aloha-print shirt he wore. “Don’t see shell necklaces like that too often. Looks like the real thing, from Ni`ihau.”

  “It is. I know the woman who makes these.”

  “Well, I’m sure it will bring in some good money for the cause.”

  “Why don’t you bid on it?”

  “Too rich for my blood.”

  Alika materialized at her elbow.

  “Mac Williamson,” he said, with the kind of bluff heartiness that, among men, hid dislike. “Hitting on my date, I see.”

  The man ignored Alika, looking down into Lei’s eyes. His were dark, gleaming, and nearly hidden by spiky brows. He took her hand in a big calloused one, kissed it with a gesture both old-fashioned and courtly.

  “I’m Mac,” he said. “What’s your name?”

  “Leilani Texeira.” She was possessed of something close to mischief as she dimpled at the tall stranger. “Mac. Short for something?”

  “Mackenzie Ikaika Lono Williamson, to give you something to chew on. You should bid on the necklace. It would look good on you.”

  “I think I will,” Lei said, and turned her back on both of them to write her name on the top line, adding what was for her an extravagant bid of one hundred and fifty dollars.

  She gave the necklace a longer look. The tiny pink shells, smaller than a rice grain, were valued more highly than their weight in gold in the islands. Each one was handpicked from the sand and hand pierced by a needle, strung in intricate patterns that were passed down through generations in a Hawaiian tradition that was in danger of being lost. She turned back, to find Alika waiting and Mac gone.

  “I’ve never seen him show interest in someone before,” Alika said. A frown stitched a furrow in his smooth forehead. “That was weird.”

  “Great. Anybody who likes me is weird,” Lei said. “Where are your manners, Mr. Smooth Talker?”

  “No, I mean it. Mac’s a hermit, lives out in Ha`ena on a big family estate with nothing but a caretaker for company. Strange for him to come to one of these things, let alone introduce himself. I’ve known him all my life and thought he was asexual. Not even enough there to be gay.”

  Lei must have been imagining the bitterness in his voice. She snatched another glass of champagne off a passing tray.

  “C’mon.” Alika took her elbow. “I’ve got people for you to meet.”

  They circulated until Lei was a little dizzy from champagne and names. Alika finally sat her at a little table near the musicians and went to get food.

  Mac materialized beside her.

  “Oh, hello! Where’d you disappear to?”

  “Don’t like him,” Williamson said bluntly. “I went to get you something.”

  He set a little velvet bag in front of her. She looked down at it in surprise, opening her mouth to refuse whatever was there, but when she looked up he was gone again. The man was a giant jack-in-the-box. She was working open the little cords when Alika arrived with two plates loaded with fancy buffet food.

  “What’s that?”

  “Gift from a gentleman admirer,” Lei said, upending the pouch. A glowing pink Ni`ihau shell necklace, secured with a clasp made of a sunrise shell, poured out onto the table.

  “Oh crap. This is way too expensive.” Lei looked up, searching for Williamson’s tall head, but he was nowhere to be seen. She got up and went to the auction table. The necklace she’d bid on was still there.

  She went back to her seat and picked up the one he’d given her. Even more magnificent, its shells were a rare hot pink alternating with blush pink in swirling bands. The sunrise shell clasp made it a one-of-a-kind piece of authentic Hawaiian jewelry.

  She put it on. Alika was still sitting, his mouth ajar. Lei waved a hand in front of his face.

  “How does it look?”

  “Mac must be smitten.”

  “I don’t know about that, but I have to find a way to return this,” Lei said, stroking the tiny rosy shells at her throat. They were already warm to the touch.

  Much later, Alika waited with her for the valet to bring the truck back around. He’d draped his jacket around her shoulders. She inhaled his slightly spicy scent in its folds. He took her hand, swinging it lightly.

  “I know why you took your own car. Wanted to keep me from kissing you at your doorstep.”

  “I can keep you from kissing me just fine,” she said, picturing her father looking out the window and seeing them.

  “But why would you want to?”

  He folded her in, his mouth finding hers. She stiffened, but he held her gently, firmly. She felt her lips melting under his, the subtle touch of his tongue. She slid her hands up, filling them with the hard muscles under his silky shirt, feeling him tremble.

  “Ahem.” A polite cough behind her. She broke away, ducking her head. The valet stood behind her, the door ajar. Alika stepped forward, passed the man a tip, and handed Lei up into the cab. He touched the necklace at her throat.

  “You made a few conquests tonight.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Should I be?”

  “Way too cocky,” she said, smiling. “But somehow I can’t help liking you.”

  “Oh good. So you won’t pine away until I call you again?”

  “I admit you’re not a bad kisser.” She put the truck in gear. “But Williamson knows how to show he likes a woman.”

  The truck accelerated and she smiled to see him looking after her, his hands in his pockets, brow knit.

  For the first time in days she looked at her ring finger and it didn’t hurt.

  Chapter 12

  Saturday, October 23

  Saturday dawned overcast and rainy. Lei woke up to the distinct smell of pancakes. She put her feet out of bed and found the worn wooden floor unexpectedly damp and cold. She went to the back of the bedroom door and wrapped up in her old kimono, slipped into a pair of socks, and went into the kitchen.

  Her father was at the stove, flipping a large, perfectly browned pancake that gleamed with the yellow of banana slices. He pointed to the pancake.

  “You loved these when you were a kid. Mrs. Abacan, your landlady, gave me the bananas and some local honey.”

  “She’s sweetening you up,” Lei said, pouring herself a mug of coffee. She sat at the little table, and Keiki came over and put a broad head on her knee. She absently played with the dog’s ears as she watched him finish the cake and slide it onto one of her little Corelle plates, drizzling it generously with honey.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “I like the sound of that.” He poured a dollop of batter so it spread across the sizzling griddle. “Making myself useful. Have a good time last night?” He’d been asleep on the couch when she got in.

  “Sure did.” Her fingers found their way to the necklace at her throat; somehow she thought she’d dreamed it.

  Her father’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that? I don’t remember you wearing that on the way out.”

  “It was a gift from a man who seemed to . . . take a liking to me.”

  “Can I see it?”

  She unhooked it and handed it to him, coiling the necklace in his hand where it glowed like a handful of crushed rose petals.

  “This is a really quality piece.”

  “I think it’s from Ni`ihau.” Only shells that had actually been picked up and worked by the colony of Hawaiians who still lived on t
hat remote, tiny isle could be called Ni`ihau—the rest were just kehelelani.

  “So who was he?”

  “Guy named Mac Williamson.” She shrugged. “It rattled my date’s cage, and that was kinda fun. But the necklace is way too expensive; I need to find Williamson and return it.”

  Her father handed it back. “Beautiful. You know how to make the guys in this town pay attention.”

  “That was never my style. Have you called Aunty Rosario? Does she know you’re out of prison?”

  He shook his head, turned away to flip the pancake, then slipped it onto his own plate. There had been tension between the siblings ever since Rosario had given Lei the cache of twenty years’ worth of letters.

  “I know I should call her. Okay. Go get me your phone.” Lei went and got it while he sat down and tucked into his massive banana pancake.

  A few minutes later Lei left them talking and went out on the back porch with Keiki. She looked down the strip of lawn past the bedraggled shower tree to the turgid brown river. Rain pattered on the tin roof, on the leaves of the hau bush. Branches, clots, and mounds of submerged debris swirled in the swollen river. As she watched, the patter became a thunderous roar that drowned out everything else. She went back inside with Keiki plastered against her side. The dog’s ears flattened to her skull in apprehension, big body shivering.

  “Settle, girl. It’s just rain.” The dog was not reassured.

  Her father closed the phone just as it rang again. He handed it to Lei.

  “J-Boy, whatcha calling me for on a Saturday morning?”

  “Just thought you should know they’re predicting flooding in Hanalei Valley,” Jenkins said.

  “Crap, really?” Lei walked over to the window and looked out again. The view was completely obliterated by a wall of falling water. Jenkins’s voice was breaking up. “What?” she shouted.

  “I said, if you can’t get across the bridge tomorrow, you can go out to Ha`ena and canvass the park dwellers,” Jenkins yelled over the roar of the rain. “They’ll all be snug in their tents.”