The Poi Predicament

by Lyle Christie

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had company. I can come back later,” Violet said, uncomfortably.

  “Oh, no worries. I’m on my way out. See you later, Finn, and thanks for a hell of a night,” Melissa said, as she slapped her ass then blew me a kiss and turned and left.

  Violet walked in and stood there with her arms crossed over in front of her chest as she looked at me with deep and unflinching scorn. So much for keeping last night to myself

  “You don’t waste any time, do you?” she said.

  “It’s not what it looks like.”

  “Oh, so you two didn’t have sex last night?”

  “Um, well—yeah, I suppose we did.”

  “Well, then it’s exactly what it looks like.”

  Shit—that was the second time in twenty-four hours that I’d been called out for using the phrase it’s not what it looks like, so it was probably about time that I stopped using it.

  “In my defense, I was extremely drunk and therefore freely admit that it was a grave error in judgement.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Yeah, yet still very true.”

  “You want some coffee or breakfast?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  “I already ate, but I’d love some coffee. In the meanwhile, you can tell me all about last night.”

  I got on the phone and ordered a pot of coffee and a vegetable and bacon omelet with a side of potatoes and wheat toast. After putting down the phone, I noticed Violet was still quietly staring at me, so she was apparently not willing to drop the subject of my unusual female visitor.

  “So, you really want to know about last night?” I asked.

  “I do, because I think it will make our relationship a lot less complicated.”

  “Really? How’s that?”

  “Well, seeing that you’re obviously some kind of man-whore, there is no way in hell that I will have any kind of romantic involvement with you now.”

  “I thought we had already established that fact.”

  “Not officially.”

  “But you literally said it to me last night.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t mean it. It was a test—and one which you failed, obviously.”

  “It might have been nice if you had told me all this beforehand.”

  “Then it wouldn’t have been a proper test, would it?”

  It was yet another Men are From Mars, Women are Just Fucking Crazy moment as I stared at Violet and realized that she was apparently dead serious.

  “I honestly thought that we were not going to have any more romantic involvement.”

  “Good, because now we aren’t.”

  There was a knock at the door, and a moment later the same waiter from the previous morning was wheeling in a cart full of goodies. He glanced at Violet for a second, though he thankfully didn’t recognize her now that she was properly clothed and not wearing the blond wig. I signed the bill then poured us each a cup of coffee before taking a seat at the little dining table. Violet took a seat across from me and sat there sipping her coffee and watching me eat, all the while still brandishing the very same look of disapproval. I finally finished my extremely awkward breakfast then stood up.

  “Well, I’m off to shit, shower, and shave. Will you be OK on your own out here?” I asked.

  “Yeah, as long as there aren’t any more women in here that I need to worry about,” she said.

  “Well, if you find any, you know where to send them.”

  “You do understand that I carry a gun and know how to use it, right?”

  I ignored her rather unveiled threat, then refilled my coffee cup, and left Agent Kalili behind as I entered my holy sanctuary. I set my coffee down, turned to make sure I locked the door, and, now feeling safe and sound, I took a minute to breath, relax, and empty my mind of the turmoil of the morning. Feeling better, I sat on the throne, took a sip of coffee, then relaxed my sphincter and let loose a mighty dump that allowed any remaining worry or negativity to flow free of my body. I picked up my iPhone, took another sip of coffee, and brought up my good friend Justin Beeber’s number. It was a little after nine local time, so it was about eleven a.m. back home, and that meant Beeber would be wide awake and probably playing a flight simulator video game instead of writing code. He was the boss, however, so it would be his prerogative to fuck off at work. I hit send, and he answered on the forth ring with his usual snarky response.

  “What do you want?” Beeber asked.

  “Seriously, you can’t say hello first?”

  “There’s no point, so why waste the time?”

  “I thought you’d be a little nicer since I helped facilitate you losing your virginity.”

  “Fuck you. I wasn’t a virgin before Lizbeth.”

  Beeber liked to refer to his girlfriend as Lizbeth, because he loved the Lizbeth Salander character from the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo books. His girlfriend’s real name, however, was Rachel, and their budding relationship happened solely because of my ability to bring people together. Sure, they were already attracted to one another, but the fact that Beeber was her boss created an uncomfortable barrier that neither of them were willing to cross—without help, anyway. That help came in the form of me arranging a night of drunken private room karaoke, and, ever since, the two lovebirds have been inseparable, which, of course, justifies my claim that I had indeed helped Beeber lose his virginity.

  “Really? So, who was your first?” I asked.

  “A girl at MIT.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “None of your business.”

  “I’m serious. Just tell me her name, and I’ll drop it.”

  “A gentleman never kisses and tells. Anyway—what do you want?”

  I decided to let it drop, as I needed Beeber’s help, and there was no need to bring up the emotional pain of his formative college years.

  “How would you like an all expenses paid trip to Hawaii?” I asked.

  “Can I bring Lizbeth?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Which island?”

  “Oahu.”

  “I guess that’s OK. What’s the catch?”

  “I need your technical expertise.”

  “As usual. When is our flight?”

  “I’ll text you the details in a few minutes.”

  “OK, I’ll be waiting. This better not be a trick.”

  “No trick, but it will be the best working vacation you’ve had in a long time.”

  “We’ll see. OK, I gotta go.”

  “Yeah, get back to your flight simulator.”

  “Fuck you. How’d you know?”

  “The same way I always know—I’m a detective, and you’re a nerd.”

  I hung up and brought up another number in my iPhone, namely Daniel Vandenberg. He was Lux and Bridgette’s father and one of the principle owners of the Vandenberg Corporation. I hit the send button, and two rings later he picked up.

  “What’s up, Finn?”

  “Are you busy?”

  “No, just enjoying breakfast out on the lanai.”

  “I have a little favor to ask.”

  “I assume this concerns John and Jessica’s predicament.”

  “Yeah, I need to bring in some specialized help from the mainland.”

  “You need the jet?”

  “Is it possible to send it to San Francisco to pick up some people today?”

  “Absolutely, as it’s already sitting on the tarmac in San Francisco. So, tell your people to be at the private terminal in two hours.”

  “Thanks, I owe you one.”

  “Hardly.”

  I hung up the phone and all but had a heart attack when I looked up to see Violet entering the bathroom.

  “What the fuck? That door was locked!” I said.

  “It may have been locked, but the bolt wasn’t engaged.”

  “Sweet Lord! Do you mind? I’m trying to take a shit here!”

  “Quit your whining
. I just need a tissue, then I’ll be out of your way.”

  “I don’t think you understand what you’re messing with here.”

  “You mean you’re not just a guy taking a shit?”

  “Well, yes I am, but what you don’t understand is that whenever my shit get’s interrupted, something very, very bad happens.”

  Violet tried her best not to laugh, as she was apparently ignorant to the severity of forces she was dealing with here.

  “I’m serious about this,” I said.

  “I believe you are—and that’s what makes it so funny.”

  “Well, now that you’ve most certainly brought about some kind of major disaster, do you mind leaving me in peace now?” I asked.

  “Not at all,” she said, fanning the air around her head.

  Violet left and closed the door, and I finished up my dump, though the joy was long gone from the experience. I flushed and entered the shower under a veil of trepidation, as bad things were now on the horizon, and that wasn’t good—considering how bad things already were. At least I had the warm invigorating embrace of the shower to console me in this time of great despair. Once I was fully clean and feeling better, I turned off the taps, dried off, and adjourned to the bedroom to get dressed. There, I noticed Violet was watching me through the open door as she sipped her coffee out in the living room.

  “It really is too bad that you had to turn out to be such a man-whore. Sexually, I felt we really had a good connection and lots of room to grow.”

  “Agreed, though we are apparently lacking in communication—on your part, anyway.”

  “Yeah, so let’s change that with some communication right now, starting with you telling me who that skank was.”

  “Frank Williams’s daughter.”

  “No shit?” she asked, sounding legitimately curious.

  “Of course, I don’t fornicate with just anyone, and you should also know that she runs an educational scholarship foundation for underprivileged children.”

  “Well, she’s still a skank.”

  Fucking women. If only she had been even one tiny bit optimistic about our potential relationship, I would have abstained from my reckless evening with the lovely, albeit crazy, Melissa Williams. Now, it was very likely that I would never hear the end of this brief lapse in judgement. After putting on my shoes, I walked into the living room and poured myself the remainder of the coffee and downed it in one gulp before returning to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Minty and fresh, I rejoined Agent Kalili, and we left my room and headed over to the lounge, where I hoped to learn the name of the bartender working the night of Jessica’s bachelorette party. The place was mostly deserted this early in the day, and there were only a few die-hard alcoholics inhabiting the bar. Violet and I took a seat and were soon joined by the bartender, who was a pretty twentysomething woman with long sun bleached blond hair, a nice tan, and a curvaceous figure that nicely accentuated by her tight low-cut dress.

  “Hello, what can I get you?” she asked.

  “Believe it or not—just information concerning a recent event here at the hotel.”

  “Oh, would that be concerning the murder here two nights ago?”

  “It would.”

  “Oh, so, who do you two work for?”

  “My name is Finn, and this is Special Agent Violet Kalili. I’m a special investigator for the vice president, and she’s obviously with the FBI,” I said.

  “Well, I’m Lindsey, and I obviously just work for the hotel—but I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

  “Excellent, as we need to know who was bartending the night of the murder.”

  “That’s easy—me.”

  “So, you also handled the bachelorette party?”

  “I did.”

  “Well, Lindsey, I have a few questions regarding the bride to be. Namely, how much did she have to drink that night?”

  She thought for a moment.

  “Not much, actually, which is kind of weird. Usually people in her position go a lot more apeshit.”

  “So, what do you mean by not much?”

  “I think she had about three glasses of Pinot Noir.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “She woke up feeling fuzzy—as though she’d had a lot more to drink than that.”

  Lindsey thought for a moment then sighed.

  “Goddammit! I might have an answer,” she said.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Rudy.”

  “Rudy?”

  “Yeah—Roofie Rudy.”

  “Excuse me?” Violet asked.

  “That’s Rudy’s nickname, and we had some trouble with him in the past when he got caught slipping rohypnol into our female guest’s glasses.”

  “Was he using it to sexually assault them?”

  “No, just rob them. He’d dose them, help them back to their rooms, and when they woke up, their money and a number of valuables would be missing.”

  “So, you think Rudy might have slipped something into the bride’s drink?”

  “I’m not sure exactly, but when I turned around to take her order, he was standing right beside her. He’s supposedly left all that behind, but it wouldn’t be a stretch to think he might be up to his old tricks and tried to dose her.”

  “Do you have a full name for Rudy?”

  “Yeah, Rudy Rafael.”

  “Anything else on him?”

  “No, that’s about it, though sometimes he moonlights here as a waiter at special events.”

  “Really? Even with his past indiscretions?”

  “Yeah, sadly he’s a bit of a charmer and convinced one of the female catering managers to give him a break.”

  “Any other unusual characters hanging around that night?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “Well, thanks, and here’s my card in case you remember anything else.”

  She looked at the card, and her bright blue eyes came alive as she smiled at me.

  “What if I don’t remember anything? Can I still call?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “We better be going,” Violet said, as she took hold of my arm and led me out of the bar.

  Once we were out in the lobby, she pulled out her phone and called her local FBI office.

  “This is Special Agent Kalili, and I’d like for you to run a search. Name is Rudy Rafael, and he likely has a record. Yeah, I can hold.”

  A moment later, Violet was back on the phone, and she told them to text her the details. A second later, her phone beeped, and she turned the screen towards me, and, there, before my eyes, was all of Rudy’s relevant information, and it included his picture, address, telephone number, and make and model of his vehicle. Below that was a detailed listing of the arrest and charges that Lindsey the bartender had told us about.

  “I guess we have our next stop,” I said.

  We left the resort and headed south on the Pali Highway in the direction of Waikiki Beach, as Rudy the rohypnolist lived in an apartment on Lime Street, which resided only a couple of blocks inland of the famous tourist mecca. We reached Rudy’s parking lot and saw his white recent model Ford Fiesta, so, assuming our guy wasn’t much of a walker, he was very likely at home. We parked on the street then walked through the gate and up the stairs to the second floor, where Rudy’s apartment resided. The door was open, but the screen was closed, so Violet knocked on the frame, and a man with wet hair and a towel around his waist appeared a moment later.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, looking a little nervous as he peered at us through the screen.

  “Yeah, my name is Finn, and this is Special Agent Kalili of the FBI, and we’d like to ask you a few questions. Can we come in?”

  “Do you have some kind of identification?”

  Violet pulled out her wallet and flashed her FBI credentials.

  “Oh OK, well come on in.”

  He unlocked the screen door and led us into his living room, and I finally got
a good look at the infamous Roofie Rudy. He was in his late twenties, tan, good looking, sporting a large mop of curly Brown hair, and he also had the slender though athletic physique of an Abercrombie and Fitch model, which was probably integral to ingratiating himself to lonely female tourists.

  “Do you mind if I get dressed first? I just got out of the shower.”

  “Not at all.”

  He exited to his bedroom but left the door partially ajar and continued to talk.

  “So, how can I help you?” he asked.

  “We’re investigating an incident at the Kuhio Resort bar. It seems a witness says you were there the night before last.”

  “Yeah, I was.”

  “Do you remember seeing a very pretty woman around thirty with brown hair and blue eyes?”

  “That describes a lot of women.”

  “This one is particularly attractive and was having a bachelorette party.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember her. What about her?”

  “Well, she woke up feeling as though she had a lot more to drink than she actually had.”

  “So, why are you talking to me?”

  “Because you’re Roofie Rudy.”

  “Not anymore. That’s all behind me.”

  “Well, the evidence would say otherwise.”

  He was suddenly quiet, and Violet and I looked at each other and nodded, as it seemed as though we were on to something. I waited a little longer then spoke again.

  “Rudy, if you come clean with us right now, we’ll forget about your little indiscretion that night.”

  No answer.

  “It’s true, Rudy. You have my word,” Violet added.

  We looked at each other again, and I could see that Violet was probably thinking the same thing as I—that we had a runner. We jumped up and raced into the bedroom to find it was empty, and the sliding door to the deck was open, and the curtains were billowing in the wind. We stepped out onto the deck and saw Rudy climbing down the fire escape ladder.