Over the Rainbow - Book One - 'The Gathering Place'

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Over the Rainbow - Book One - 'The Gathering Place' Page 20

by Robert Vaughan


  Buddy greeted his sister with an enormous bear hug, lifting her off her feet effortlessly, and then holding her by the waist and gently returning her to earth. He gave her a platonic kiss on her forehead and then stated enthusiastically, “Hey, you know what? You should take haole-boy here and show him da orchards- I bet he never saw one dat’s jus’ filled with flowers.” Buddy turned to leave, taking a short shaky breath as he did, his face suddenly pale in the bright sunlight and then turned back with a fragile smile and dismissed them a wave, “I'm gonna go take a load off, take a break, ya?” He kissed Alani on the cheek in a reassuring manner and added, “Make sure he don't get lost, ya?” And then wagged a ‘shaka’ sign to Chris as he began to move off, “You be cool, bro. I see you later, all right?”

  Alani merely watched in silence as Buddy disappeared into the green, a sharp look of concern furrowing her brow and marring her beautiful features.

  Hashimoto hung up the phone, twirling his pencil in thought, “Well, that was a bust.” He turned to Kanaka and inquired hopefully, “You find out anything?”

  “Not much. He's not a local, and this company in town don't know if they got a missing guy or not. Said they'd check. Hell, we might not hear back from them until tomorrow at the earliest. Tried Hong Kong, but all I got was a message, it’s still early tomorrow over there. I'd try their office in New York, see if maybe one of their people is out here on the islands, but it's still Sunday there.” Kanaka tilted back in his chair and stared into the ceiling. “Why does the weird shit always happen on the weekend? How about you? Anything?”

  “Zilch. I guess we just wait until someone calls, reports him missing…” Hashimoto sighed and turned his gaze back to the Sudoku puzzle on the desk before him, asking Kanaka, “...you got a pencil?”

  “In your hand, Sherlock.”

  Hashimoto looked to his hand and grinned.

  The classical strains of The Who’s ‘Baba O’Reilly’ blared from the unnecessarily large speakers that filled the corners of the dim confines of the tiny coroner’s office, where the pale, marbled slab that was Walter lay covered by a thin sheet, supine on the stainless-steel table. Playing in impromptu drum solo along with the melody, Robert ‘Bob’ Alawai, part-time medical examiner and full-time sexton for the multiplicity of local faiths, finished the riff and dramatically tossed his instruments into a stainless-steel tray, where they clattered musically in counterpoint to the music. He then began to meticulously fold the clothes that had once belonged to his latest guest. Laying the sodden trousers along a long metal counter, Bob smoothed the pants out flat, and then suddenly recoiled in pain as his hand passed over a back pocket. Picking up the pants to more closely inspect them for the cause of his injury, he peered at them myopically through his dirty reading glasses, and his eyes went wide in revelation…

  Hashimoto and Kanaka dozed lightly in their separate chairs with their feet up on desks, a pencil still entwined in Hank’s limp fingers and a crumpled newspaper across Darren’s chest. The phone rang shrilly, in the soft silence louder than a warning claxon, startling both men and nearly toppling them to the floor. Hashimoto fumbled for the hand-set, nearly dropping it and then placing it between shoulder and ear as he reached for the pencil that was already in his hand.

  “Hashimoto. Hey, Bob! What’s up?” As Hashimoto listened, his eyebrows slowly crept up his forehead in obvious surprise. “NO WAY! Really? Wow…” Hashimoto smiled, an impish grin spreading slowly across his face as he listened. “Okay, okay, I'll tell him- Mahalo, bro!” Hashimoto triumphantly replaced the phone onto its cradle and leaned back with his hands behind his head. “Guess who that was.”

  Darren rubbed fatigue from his eyes and a hand through his hair. “Hank, don't play games. This day ain't half over yet. What?”

  “You remember when you said you didn't find anything when you checked our guy?”

  “Yeah, he was clean, right out of the spin cycle, nothin’ on him but the watch.”

  “Not so, fair Watson. That was the Bob. Apparently we missed something…”

  “Okay... So? What did we miss?”

  Hashimoto said mysteriously, as if revealing a dark secret, “A golf tee.”

  Kanaka responded blandly, “A golf tee.”

  “Yup. I guess Bob said that it actually found him. In fact, he said would have missed it too, but it poked him in the hand when he was bagging the clothes.”

  “So? Good. Bob finds a golf tee on our guy. There's only like what-? Half a dozen golf courses out here, it could'a come from anywhere…”

  “Ahhh- not so, dear Watson. This was a special golf tee- one of those fancy ones with the club name embossed on it.”

  Darren repressed a yawn, “And?”

  “Guess where it was from.”

  Kanaka replied in irritation, “Man, I'm not in the mood for guessing games today, okay?”

  Hashimoto shrugged and then smiled in sympathy. “Sorry. I just thought you might appreciate the fact that sometimes it's better to be lucky than good.”

  “Fine, so now we're getting divine assistance. So? Where's the tee from?”

  “Kahuku Point Golf Club.”

  “No shit? Kahuku point? Out at the Honu-Kai, that Kahuku point?”

  “Bingo. Saddle up, partner, we're back in business.”

  Alani and Chris walked slowly towards the colorful trees in the distance, again with pinkies hooked demurely together. The trees shimmered in the tropical breeze, their overlapping pastel hues glowing in the late afternoon light, the sky reflecting the same hues of gold, salmon and crimson, all blending together in a delightful mélange of impressionist art. Alani paused and plucked a huge, pink-tinged plumeria from a tree, sniffed it rapturously and then placed it purposefully behind her left ear. “So, did Buddy tell you all about his baby?”

  “Yeah, mostly. I love the name. It sounds like a cartoon superhero or something...”

  “Yeah, I guess it does...” Her eyes creased in mischief and she said, “We have them here you know.”

  “What- Hawaiian cartoon superheroes?”

  Alani laughed softly, “Yes, them too. No, I meant the 'menehune'.”

  “No way! You mean like- real Menehune, the Hawaiian 'little people'? Seriously? And what do you mean, 'you have them here'. You mean like here-here? Like…” Chris gestured vaguely around them, “Here? Really?”

  “Well- yeah. I'm not so sure they exist anymore- in the physical realm, but I wouldn't bet on them not being, like, weird little spiritual beings- too many strange things happen for them to not be real...”

  “Like, what?”

  “Oh, my gosh, like, all kinds of things. Sometimes, for instance- I lose things a lot, like my car keys. I look, and I look... but no matter where I look, I can't find them. And then, all of a sudden they reappear, right where I just looked before- sometimes days, hours, maybe only minutes later.” Alani looked to Chris, gauging his belief in her tale, and continued, “Anyway, last time it happened, it was my keys, again- and a huge rock-slide came down over on the coast road just about the time I would have been there. Now you tell me, what- or who- was responsible for delaying me, just when I wanted to go, and kept me from danger? It's too bizarre not to be real.”

  Chris looked into the distance, his gaze focusing on the plane and the distinctive artwork on its’ nose. “Like being struck by lightning?”

  Alani followed his gaze, her mouth slowly dropping open, “Oh- wow...!” She smiled mischievously and hummed the ‘Twilight Zone’ theme, “You don't think...?”

  “Don't you? It would sure as hell explain a lot...”

  Alani interrupted with a reproving tone, “Nah... menehune's are just-”

  “A myth? - A fairy tale?”

  Alani slapped Chris playfully on the arm, “Shut- up!” And then she laughed nervously and declared tremulously, “Now I'm getting freaked out!”

  “You? Try being me. This whole trip has been totally weird since before I even got here. And that was just the beginning…”
Chris paused in reflection of the mystery of the antique globe that had started this whole bizarre episode of his life and continued, “Have you ever heard of the word 'serendipity'?”

  “Serendipity? You mean, like 'happy accidents'?”

  “Exactly. I used to just call them 'meaningful coincidences' or ‘synchronicity’. But lately everything that has happened is different, like chance meetings that aren't so random at all, but have started to feel more like- I don’t know, like 'fate' or 'destiny'.”

  “Like what, for instance?”

  “Like meeting you for starters, the way we met- by ‘accident'? Seriously? It would be totally cliché if it weren't true, but it happened.”

  “But it did just happen.”

  “Oh, yeah, right. And I got struck by lightning- twice. Poof! So much for that myth.”

  Alani tried to respond, but Chris held up a hand in rebuttal. “But wait, it gets better. After I left the hospital, seeing you for a mere continuation of time one, I see my dream car waiting for me by the side of the road. I randomly decide to go surfing, and just happen to end up at your store. Bam! There you are. I leave, and not half an hour later- ‘poof!’, now I find you stranded on the side of the road. Later that night, I'm wandering around, bored, and ‘poof!’ I see you dancing at the luau. And then ‘poof!’ you vanish, and not an hour later I find you waiting at a bus stop. Which brings us to today; that's what- five, six times in the last two days? Like I said, if I were stalking you, it would make more sense- I'm not. If all that doesn't positively reek of something cosmic, I'm burning my Tarot cards.”

  Alani laughed nervously, “Well, it has been kind of weird.”

  “Weird? Life is weird. This? Miracles? Menehune?” Again Alani tried to interject, but Chris stilled her reply with a finger on her lips, “No, wait, wait! Here's the kicker... every day since I got here, no matter what time of day or night it is, I hear these drums, or wind chimes, or chanting- and presto!, something weird happens, or I run into you. Explain that.”

  “Geez, you must have hit your head harder than I thought…”

  “Not that hard. Because the very first time I ever heard them was way before any of this even happened. The first night I was here, the day before I met you.”

  As Chris and Alani approached the plastic-sheathed Quonset hut, a high-pitched female giggling could clearly be heard from within. Alani paused outside the entrance, sighed gustily with an exaggerated eye-roll and said forlornly, “I think I have an explanation…”

  The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows of the Pro shop, tinting the interior a bright vermillion. Albert watched as the two guys in bad Aloha shirts approached the counter, the Asian-looking one reaching into a breast pocket and pulling out a small photograph. Certainly not golfers, not this late, he thought, cops- detectives for sure, but why?

  Hashimoto slid the pic across the counter with a grim look on his face and asked, “You recognize this guy?”

  Albert looked at the picture, a frown of distaste forming on his lips, “Yeah. That's- that’s Mr. Matthews... What's- what's wrong with him?”

  “He's dead- drowned. When was the last time you saw him?”

  “He went by out by himself this morning, about nine.”

  “And that's the last time you saw him? He never returned?”

  “No. Like I said, he went out by himself. Didn't take a cart, so no reason to return it, insisted on a caddie instead. You may want to ask the guys at the caddie shack, one of them guys seen him for sure.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Hashimoto nodded to his silent partner, and turned and left.

  Alani poked her head through the door of the greenhouse, and then looked back to Chris shaking her head, her eyes rolling skyward in despair and her nose wrinkling in a light gesture of revulsion. “You sure you want to see the flowers? I might have to introduce you to my tutus.”

  ”Your who-who's?”

  “Tu tu's- my grandmammas. You think things were strange before now? Wait…” Alani held the door for Chris, carefully stepping over the high threshold and letting the door close behind them.

  As Chris looked around the enclosed space his eyes went wide with amazement- the greenhouse contained every type, size, and color of tropical flower imaginable. Arranged by species, each area had its own individual character; here a cluster of Pikake, their delicious jasmine-like aroma sweet and intoxicating; next to them a cluster of delicate stalks of Hawaiian ginger thrusting skyward; there an overflowing clump of Gardenia, to this side another group of Bird of Paradise, and to the other side a row of shrub-like Plumeria trees in pots on the ground. Filling the space above their heads were a plethora of others- multiple varieties of colorful Hibiscus hanging from the ceiling, next to them was another row of arboreals, this one a wide range of Orchid, each one more vibrant than the next.

  The combined bouquet was heady and overwhelming, and the lush, dense clumps and clusters formed a maze that limited his vision to only a few feet in any one direction. Chris paused in the middle of the room and inhaled deeply, exclaiming, “Wow! It’s amazing! I've never seen anything like it...” And then his nose wrinkled as an unfamiliar aroma touched it, “What's that- smell?”

  A shocked gasp, sharply cut off, caused Alani and Chris to whirl around in unison- he with a shock of surprise, she with a quick outward breath of exasperation. Standing just behind them were two elderly women, one tall and slender, one tiny and compact- Alani’s tutu’s, Lei-lei and Kei-kei. The two women huddled together, their heads touching, their eyes never leaving Chris, and they chattered excitedly in Hawaiian.

  “Look!” said the tall, slender one, trying unsuccessfully not to point at Chris, “This must be the boy our ‘Lani found- remember, the one who fell from the sky!”

  The short one, dressed simply in gray gardening dress, admonished her partner, “Shut up! You talking crazy again! He came in an airplane.”

  The taller one stood erect, clearly taking offence. “I'm talking crazy? You're the one smoking dope!” Now restraining her hands by folding them in front of her, she nodded her head toward Chris insistently, “No, no, look- look at his hair! It's like Pa’hia said-‘A golden halo will surround him.’”

  The shorter one snorted in derision, “Pfft! He’s just blonde- like you!”

  The woman known as Lei-lei gasped, “I am NOT blonde!”

  Kei-kei replied, scoffing, “It’s not just a hair color, you nitwit!”

  “OH!” Defeated by her diminutive colleague, Lei-lei straightened and smiled, switching to a flawless, grammar-school inflected English as she stepped forward, gliding silently toward Alani and Chris with hands outstretched. She looked at Chris and radiated a wide, warm smile as she addressed him directly, “Welcome, you must be Christopher!” Taking both of his hands in hers, she held him at arm’s length, taking him in with a long, knowing glance, as if inventorying items and details she already knew.

  Chris studied her in silence, seeing at a glance where Alani got her exotic looks. Even at her age, undetermined as it was, Lei-lei was still extraordinarily beautiful, her delicately carved cheekbones, long slender neck and dark jade eyes leaving no mistake as to who her granddaughter was.

  Chris turned to the other woman who had materialized out of the maze of green. The woman, known simply by the nickname ‘Kei-kei’ reminded him of a sparrow, her eyes dark and bright, sparkling with hidden merriment, the obvious source of Alani’s biting wit and mischievous demeanor. But she held back, almost as if unwilling to approach, one hand held behind her back, the arm quivering slightly, a Cheshire-cat like grin on her wide face, and she suddenly asked without warning, “You like flowers?”

  Chris looked quickly to Alani, clearly caught off guard by her grandmother’s sudden change of language in his direction, and then responded awkwardly, “Do I like-? Oh, yes, they're very- beautiful. They smell wonderful.” And then without warning, Kei-kei yelled, a high-pitched squeal, startling the entire group with its volume and suddenness.

 
; “AIIEEE! Shit!” Kei-kei flung the burning end of the joint to the floor, covered it quickly with her foot and smiled sheepishly up at Alani, who merely glared back at her in return. Chris just stared, open mouthed, eyes darting from one enigmatic woman to the other, and then to the smoldering foot on the earthen floor.

  Alani groaned in exasperation and abruptly whirled Chris around, pulling him by the elbow and nearly shoving him toward the door in a hasty departure. Chris stumbled out of the greenhouse, tripping over the high threshold, waving in farewell as he called back over his shoulder, “Nice to meet you-!”

  Lei-lei and Kei-kei burst into hysterical laughter with tears streaming down their faces as they huddled together again, smiling and waving like a pair of giddy schoolgirls as the door slammed closed.

  Alani shoved Chris with both hands in the small his back and her head lowered like a bulldozer as he turned and exclaimed, “Hey! What?!” Finally, after a few yards, Alani released him with a laborious sigh and straightened, looking back over her shoulder with a mortified glare of resignation. Chris continued, inquiring with a smirk, “Hey, am I just imagining this, or were they smoking-?”

  Alani interrupted, clearly embarrassed, “No. Okay, maybe, but-” She changed the subject, knowing that her next introduction was to be even more out of the ordinary, “C'mon, let's get this over with- you need to meet my Grandpa Satoshi, he's expectin' to see you...”

  “He- how does he even know I'm here?”

  Alani sighed gustily, her eyes again rolling back in her head as her shoulders sagged, “Trust me- he just does...”

  Satoshi Nakamura, his ragged pith helmet decorated with a variety of multi-colored bird droppings, peered up at a fluttering pair of iridescent vermillion wings, the wings attached to a flustered and panicky bird. The bird was trapped, its’ feet stuck fast to a sap-sticky vine, fooled by the wealth of seeds that were stuck to the vine as well, a tasty treat that proved an unwise endeavor by the tiny avian creature.

 

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