The Poi Predicament

by Lyle Christie

  “May it continue in platonic bliss,” she added.

  “Or at least until we break down and have sex again,” I said, taking a sip.

  The drink was delicious and made for a nice capper to a particularly unusual day. Usually, coming to Hawaii was about relaxing and having fun rather than solving a murder case, but at least we now had a moment to unwind.

  “So, I’m curious—have you been told to officially take any kind of active role in the investigation—or just play babysitter?”

  “Not sure exactly, but my impression was that it was more about being a good babysitter.”

  “It can’t be very fun getting a shit assignment like this when you’re a special agent.”

  “Normally it wouldn’t be, but so far I’m finding this case pretty interesting.”

  “It can’t be everyday that you’re dragged into a case involving the vice president of the United States.”

  “No shit.”

  We sat in silence a moment and enjoyed the warm Hawaiian evening until I turned my attention back to Violet.

  “So, Special Agent Kalili. Why don’t you tell me more about yourself.”

  “Where should I start?”

  “Formative years.”

  She took another sip of her drink and thought for a moment.

  “Well, I was born in Hawaii, but we moved around a lot during childhood. When I finally graduated High School, we were living in Washington D.C., but I was a little homesick for the islands and applied to the University of Hawaii. I got my bachelors but stayed on and eventually earned both a law degree and masters in criminology.”

  “Typical overachiever.”

  “What can I say? I liked school.”

  “And then you followed your father’s wishes and joined the FBI.”

  “Pretty much, and, after getting through the Academy, I moved stateside and worked in Washington D.C., California, Arizona, and eventually here, where it was believed my Hawaiian ancestry would give me an advantage in allowing me to blend more easily into the local population.”

  “A girl with two graduate degrees going undercover as a stripper. What has the world come to?”

  “Hey, some of the girls in that profession are incredibly bright.”

  “True, and they certainly know where the money is.”

  “And how to get it.”

  “So, did your dad pull the strings to get you this posting?”

  “Officially no. Unofficially, it’s very likely.”

  “So, are you happy here, or would you prefer a different locale?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being here, obviously, but sometimes I crave a little more action.”

  “Not enough action in the aloha state?”

  “Not exactly, though it’s nice being able to spend time with my family.”

  We finished our first round of drinks and soon were on to our second when Frank Williams appeared at our table, looking like his usual intimidating self. He had classic movie star good looks, perfectly tan skin, and a tall, athletic frame that belied his sixty plus years of age. He was in excellent shape and worked out daily, and, tonight, he was wearing khaki pants and a Tommy Bahama shirt that showed off his rather beefy arms, whose size made me wonder if he might perhaps be taking some human growth hormone. Violet and I stood up to share a proper greeting, and he smiled at Violet, who he thankfully didn’t recognize from the bachelor party the night before.

  “Nice to meet you, Agent Kalili,” he said.

  “Nice to meet you too, sir,” she said.

  “Oh, please call me Frank.

  “Frank, it is.”

  “So, are you two ready for our damage control meeting?”

  “Yeah, and we have a lot of news from the Honolulu Police department.”

  “It’s good, I hope.”

  “Not really.”

  Frank didn’t look very happy about our news but soldiered on and told us to grab our drinks and follow him to the formal dining room. Violet said she’d meet us after she made a quick stop at the bathroom, so Frank and I headed off through the bar, only to have a distinguished looking Asian man sitting at one of the nearby tables wave at Frank.

  “Oh shit, do you mind if I take a second to talk to my friend?”

  “Not at all, I’ll go get a fresh drink.”

  I headed for the bar, ordered another chi chi, and, by the time it arrived, Frank was already back at my side. We set off, and he led me through a hallway that contained a number of pictures on the walls, and he paused to talk.

  “Are you familiar with the Outrigger and its history?” Frank asked.

  “Not really,” I said.

  “It’s quite an amazing club. It was originally founded in 1908, with the idea being to promote and maintain Hawaii’s ancient cultural pastimes—namely surfing and paddling.”

  “Which do you do?” I asked.

  “Both, actually, though I also like to drink while I’m here.”

  “Well it certainly is an amazing location for any of those pastimes—especially drinking.”

  “And believe it or not, this club used to be located right on Waikiki Beach where the famous Royal Hawaiian Hotel now stands.”

  “When did it move here?” I asked.

  “1963.”

  “Well, I think I prefer this location.”

  “I agree, though there aren’t as many hot wahine running around in bikinis.”

  “Life is all about sacrifice.”

  “Indeed.”

  I gazed at some of the pictures on the wall and managed to recognize several.

  “You’ve had a lot of prestigious members,” I said.

  “Yes, and that includes some of Hawaii’s most esteemed residents—including, of course, the late Duke Kahanamoku.”

  Duke Kahanamoku was one of Hawaii’s most famous natives after having won three gold and two silver medals swimming for the United States in the Olympics. He was also known as the person to have popularized surfing across the world, and there was even a statue of him on Freshwater Beach in Australia.

  “I also heard Tom Selleck was a member,” I said.

  “Oh yeah, and he used to play beach volleyball here all the time and, needless to say, was quite a ladies man.”

  “It’s funny, but whenever I tell people that I’m a private investigator, they all make some kind of comment about Magnum P.I.—in spite of the fact it aired over twenty years ago.”

  “Well, it is enjoying newfound popularity on Netflix, and I must admit that it’s my guilty pleasure whenever I’m missing Hawaii.”

  “Same here!” I said.

  “Well then, you’ll be interested to know that I own what was called the Robin Masters estate in the show.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit, and if you ever decide to move to Hawaii, I could rent you the guest house, and you could indeed become the real life version of Magnum P.I..”

  “I’m tempted.”

  “And of course you know that the fabled King Kamehameha Club in the show was modeled after the Outrigger.”

  “I did indeed.”

  We moved on and entered the Koa Lanai dining area, which was more formal than the rest of the club, and I was relieved that I had not worn thongs, as it had a dress code, and my current outfit was probably only passable due to the presence and occupation of my fellow diners. Everyone was there, and John was at the head of the table, Jessica was to his left, and there were two empty seats immediately to the right of his majesty. Violet appeared at that moment, and the two of us went over and took our seats.

  “I knew if I said there would be food and drink that you’d show up on time,” John said.

  “Just like the bachelor party, minus of course the hookers,” I said, as Violet and I took a seat.

  Jessica gave John a glare.

  “He’s kidding, my darling,” he said.

  “True, they probably weren’t all hookers,” I said, soon feeling a hard pinch on my thigh from Violet.

 
Oops. I kept forgetting that she too had been there.

  “Everyone, this is Special Agent Kalili. She comes highly recommended from the Director of the FBI himself, and might I say, Violet, that you look very familiar,” John said.

  “Perhaps we met at some Washington event,” Violet responded a wee bit nervously.

  Or your bachelor party last night, I said, silently to myself, which made me suddenly realize just how incredibly awkward this dinner must feel for Violet. Here she was dining with the vice president and some of Washington’s most respected political minds, when only the day before she had been a stripper at a bachelor party with a fair portion of the very same gentleman. The world certainly could be a small place at times.

  “Most of you know each other, but I’ll just go around the table and introduce everyone for Finn and Violet’s sake. Starting on the right, we have Frank Williams, the veritable heart of Washington.”

  “Truly an exaggeration. Now, please continue on to the more important people,” Frank said.

  John went on to introduce his father Senator Douglass Matheson then moved on to Stuart Turnbull, who was his media and publicity strategist. Next was Brent Forbes, his chief political advisor, followed by Jeremy Kline, his attorney and expert on all things legal. Last but not least was Corn, Lux, and John’s lovely wife to be Jessica Thurman—soon to be Jessica Matheson—assuming I managed to get her out of this mess.

  “All right then, folks, I say we order our food and drinks then get to business,” John said.

  A waiter appeared and took our drink orders before returning about five minutes later with a bevy of cocktail concoctions filling his tray. He passed out everyone’s respective drink, then set about taking our dinner order. When he finally got to me, I ordered a chicken dish that came with mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables. Violet, last to order, went with the Mahi Mahi special and, soon, the conversation turned to the evening’s topic—namely damage control.

  “So, Finn, I know that you spoke with the Honolulu Police Department today. Do you want to fill everyone in?” John asked.

  I went on to describe all that I had learned from the detectives and various techs, and the people at the table didn’t appear to be too pleased with the news.

  “And what was your take?” Frank asked.

  “Well, pretty much all of them are absolutely confident that the evidence is conclusive, though the blood spatter guy was the only exception. In his opinion, there were some abnormalities.”

  “Such as?”

  “He found it to be a little strange that only the sweatshirt tested positive for the victims blood. As a matter of fact, he said that it had more blood than it should, and he wondered why the blood hadn’t penetrated deeper into any of her other clothes.”

  “So, that’s kind of good news,” Frank said.

  “I suppose, but the detectives just see the blood as more proof of Jessica’s guilt.”

  “And what’s your take, Agent Kalili?”

  “Please, call me Violet, and I would have to more or less agree with Finn. There is an abundance of conclusive evidence, though it seems a little too perfect. In five very busy years with the Bureau, I’ve never seen a case this cut and dry, let alone put together in such a short amount of time.”

  “Stuart, what’s your take?” John asked.

  Stuart the public relations strategist cleared his throat and looked grave as he leaned forward in his chair and prepared to speak.

  “Well, needless to say, it’s a PR nightmare of epic proportions. It sounds harsh, but the safest thing to do would be to call off the wedding and get as far away from Jessica as possible,” Stuart said.

  “Which you understand means not running for president as well,” John responded.

  “It’s better than a scandal that’ll end your political career for good,” Stuart said.

  “That’s essentially true, sir,” Brent added.

  “I don’t give a flying fuck. Jessica is innocent, and I’m not going to distance myself from her in any way. If it comes down to it, I’ll forget the presidency entirely and retire to a nice normal life far from all of this bullshit.”

  “You can’t do that, son. This country needs a man like you more than ever—someone who can cross party lines and unite the House and Senate, and help heal the divide that’s tearing this country apart at the seams.”

  Jessica took hold of John’s hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

  “Well said, Douglass. It couldn’t have come across any better had we all been humming the Star Bangled Banner,” I said.

  There were a few chuckles, though the majority remained quiet and brooding.

  “I didn’t intend to be overly dramatic. I’m just telling it how it is,” the senior Matheson said.

  “When exactly does Sasquatch here have to officially announce that he’s running?” I asked.

  “Beginning of next week,” Frank said.

  “So, we have a week to figure this out, and, honestly, I’ve done a lot more in less time.”

  “If you’re referring to Soft Taco Island, then I would have to say that you spent at least half that time binge drinking and fornicating,” Lux said.

  “It doesn’t matter to me as long as he gets it done,” John added.

  Lux scowled at us.

  “On a serious note—we really are going to need a miracle from you, Finn,” Frank said.

  “Trust me, I’ll do my best, as I don’t want to go through life always knowing that my good friend peaked at number two.”

  Everyone laughed, and it was a good tension breaker.

  “Now, how about we discuss an important question—namely, who might actually be behind all this? Who has the big four?” I asked.

  “The what?” Frank asked.

  “The big four—intent, motive, opportunity, and ability. Targeting the vice president of the United States means that our bad guy or guys, or even girls for that matter, have some serious balls as well as some serious clout. This affair can’t have been perpetrated by your average bears. I mean, we have the most perfectly laid out crime, committed in the tiniest of windows, and dependent upon so many outside factors that it’s actually a little mesmerizing. And how is that they managed to lure the victim to the very same hotel and got the supposed murder weapon across two thousand miles of ocean. Transporting a firearm is no small task in the age of Homeland Security, so it would have to be brought on a private plane or maybe even smuggled aboard Air Force Two for all we know.”

  “That seems highly unlikely,” Frank said.

  “Yeah, though it’s possible,” I countered.

  “But it also implies that someone in our very circle could be complicit in this affair,” Frank said.

  “Hopefully not, but we can’t rule anything out at this point.”

  “I suppose you’re right, and we should at least consider it.”

  “Indeed, and it’s also incredibly alarming that the Police had this entire affair more or less solved in a matter of hours. That leads me to believe that our conspirators have some pull in the local government as well.”

  “True, though that’s not exactly a very comforting thought at the moment,” Frank said.

  “So, again, who has the balls, desire, and means to try and keep John from being the next president?”

  “The Republicans for one,” Brent said.

  Everyone laughed.

  “True, though they see John as a moderate team player and someone they might be able to work with in the event that they didn’t get their guy into office, and, let’s face it, they wouldn’t risk a scandal like this, as the repercussions would absolutely bury the Republican Party.”

  “True,” Matheson Senior said.

  “And anyone who would be involved in this would have to have considerable motive and be utterly ruthless. I mean, a man has been murdered for God’s sake. This isn’t just about hurling political pot shots at the opposing party. This is some serious shit we’re dealing with,” Forbes said.


  “Agreed, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, Finn could be right that we need to at least consider the possibility that our enemy might very well have access to our inner circle in some way,” Frank said.

  “So, how do we proceed?” John asked.

  Frank spoke first.

  “Finn and Violet continue with their investigation while we put our heads to the grindstone and try to figure out who in the hell has the most to gain, and might therefore be the most likely perpetrators behind all this.”

  “Which means we hope for the best but plan for the worst,” Brent said.

  “Yes, I suppose, but at least the authorities have agreed to keep a lid on it for the moment, so we don’t have to contend with the media thankfully. I’ll personally head up damage control, so, Finn, I want you and Agent Kalili to keep me apprised of every aspect of the investigation. That way, I can confer with Brent and Stuart and keep them up to date should any official statements become necessary.”

  John let out a long sigh.

  “I guess we have a plan of action,” he said, looking at Jessica, who tried her best to smile but couldn’t hide her underlying anxiety.

  It wouldn’t be fun to be in her position, and it wasn’t just because she was accused of murder. Jessica was very likely the linchpin behind the love of her life’s career success or failure. Dinner came to an end, and the conversation petered off as people began leaving, though John, his dad, Frank, Jessica, Corn, Lux, Violet, and me all stayed behind, and we decided to go to the Outrigger’s outdoor deck and have an after dinner drink to reflect on the damage control meeting. After we sat down at a table that resided on the very edge of the beach, a waitress appeared and took our order then headed off to the bar. In the meantime, I gazed out towards the setting sun and saw storm clouds gathering on the distant horizon and couldn’t help but wonder if it was an omen of things to come. Our drinks arrived soon thereafter, and John picked his up and turned his attention to me.

  “So, what do you think of my team?” he asked.

  “They seem very competent, though Stuart is kind of a fucker.”

  “That’s to be expected, as he went to Harvard.”

  John had gone to Yale, so he of course threw in a college jab whenever the rival school was mentioned.