The Poi Predicament

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The Poi Predicament Page 15

by Lyle Christie


  “So, that’s definitely Jessica?”

  “According to the software—yes.”

  “Jesus. You did all this while I was on the phone?”

  “Of course. I don’t fuck around.”

  “Except when you’re at work—in which case you play flight simulators and massively multi player RPG’s.”

  “As well as first person shooters.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “No, that’s actually true. I know because he usually plays against me, and I always smoke his ass,” Rachel interjected.

  “In reality, it’s generally quite even.”

  Rachel punched Beeber in the arm, and he let out another little guinea pig squeak.

  “OK, she might have won a couple more matches than me.”

  Rachel prepared to hit him again, but I was quicker to the punch and interrupted their little lovers’ shenanigans with a question.

  “So, where did you get the second image?” I asked.

  “Facebook profile.”

  “Nice”

  “Yeah, so you basically flew us all the way to Hawaii for one minute of work.”

  “Don’t worry, as there’s plenty more. In fact, I need to get access to the Governor of Hawaii’s email and possibly even the murder victim’s as well.”

  “How wonderful. You want me to hack into the private account of a victim in a homicide investigation and a highly ranked elected official.”

  “It’s nothing our government isn’t already doing, and if you do end up in prison, you probably won’t be alone, as Doug might be joining you if he gets caught illegally accessing the phone records I need.”

  “I don’t think that Doug and I would be good cellmates.”

  “Are you kidding? It would be awesome. During the day, you two could play D&D, and at night you could do Lord of the Rings sexual role play. I’m thinking hobbit on hobbit, ranger on hobbit, or, if you want to take it up a notch, go dwarf on elf.”

  “How dare you bastardize the holy trilogy in the name of making silly prison sex jokes!”

  “Easy there, Bilbo, as you’re too good at what you do to get caught and be sent to prison, so, you won’t have to do any dwarf on elf unless you really want to.”

  “Says the troglodyte.”

  I picked up my phone and dialed Doug, then hit the speaker phone button, because I assumed Beeber would want to chime in and talk with our dear old friend. Oddly, Doug answered after the first ring.

  “Hello, Finn. What do you need? Are you stalking an ex-girlfriend and need me to track down her phone number and address?”

  “No, because I’m actually on a very important assignment for the vice president.”

  “Then why are you calling me? I’m sure you’re quite capable of picking up coffee and sandwiches all by yourself.”

  Beeber laughed.

  “Hey, I recognize that laugh. Is Beeber with you?”

  “He is.”

  “Hey, Beebs. What’s up?”

  “I’m in Hawaii helping Finn, if you can believe it.”

  “You fuckers are in Hawaii?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, why in the hell does Beeber get to be there?”

  “He’s not afraid of flying.”

  “Well neither am I now.”

  “Are you saying you would actually come if I bought you a ticket?”

  “Of course.”

  “On a plane?”

  “Yeah, I know that Hawaii is in the middle of the fucking Pacific, but it’s not a problem—I have medication now.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “No, I’m serious. I have Lorazepam, and I use it for the dentist, but my doctor also said it would help me deal with my fear of flying.”

  “Better living through chemistry indeed!”

  “The world is my oyster.”

  “So, seriously now, do you really want to come out?”

  “Hell yeah!”

  “Can you access all your databases remotely?”

  “Of course.”

  “OK, fine, I’ll get you a ticket as soon as we get off the phone, but you can’t chicken out.”

  “Book it, Dano,” he said, quoting the most famous of lines from the television show Hawaii Five-0.

  “Ha! I got to fly here on a private jet!” Beeber blurted out.

  “Wait, did Beebs just say he got to fly there on a private jet?”

  “No, Beeber was just talking about someone’s irate pet,” I said, as I smacked Beeber’s arm to get him to be quiet.

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I know, it’s probably just sun stroke. Now, Doug, I’m going to book your flight, then I’ll text you in about ten minutes with your info. Pack light, as all you really need are shorts and T-shirts.”

  “And bring your D&D stuff!” Beeber yelled out.

  “Doug is getting on a plane for the first time in years to travel to a beautiful tropical island, and you’re telling him to bring his fucking D&D stuff?”

  “You bet your ass I am! We haven’t played in years.”

  “Don’t worry. I never leave home without it,” Doug said.

  “Fucking nerds. I’m so sorry that I got you into this, Rachel.”

  “It’s OK. I’ve actually come to enjoy playing it with Beebsy.”

  “Wait, Rachel’s there too?” Doug asked.

  “Yeah, I never leave home without her, and, better still, she’ll play D&D with us!”

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “Yeah, in fact, I have a fifteenth level Ranger I’ve been playing.”

  “Perfect! I’ve got a fourteenth level Wizard I’ve been dying to use,” Doug said.

  “I’m hanging up now, as I’m afraid all this nerd talk is starting to diminish my testosterone production.”

  I hit the end button and looked over to see Beeber glowing with excitement. I had forgotten how close we had all been back at the Agency, but, sadly, Doug’s fear of flying, had kept him isolated from our little social circle, and the only bonding time was via the phone or during his and Beeber’s online gaming sessions. Now it was time for our long awaited reunion, and to that end, I called Frank Williams, and, three rings later, heard his voice.

  “What’s up, Finn? Any news?” he asked.

  “Plenty.”

  “Any of it good?”

  “Not really. Our first good lead was hit by a car and killed today.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah, it’s not exactly a good omen, but I did want to give you a heads up that I’m bringing in another person.”

  “Who is it?”

  “A friend from the CIA.”

  “Do you think he can help?”

  “It certainly can’t hurt.”

  “Well, the more the merrier. Might as well bring him in.”

  “Thanks, do you want to meet later for an update?”

  “Is there any more news?”

  “Nothing than what I’ve already told you.”

  “Then it can wait until tomorrow.”

  “OK, talk to you later,” I said, hitting the end button.

  I went to my laptop and brought up a travel website and managed to book Doug a first class ticket on Virgin Airlines. I texted the details, and Doug came back about a tenth of a second later with the words FIRST CLASS???? written all upper case and with four question marks. I wrote back YES in all caps, and he wrote back to ask who died. I responded by saying it’s a long story and that I’d tell him when he arrived. With Doug squared away, it was now time to think about how to proceed, and, given the fact that my first lead in Steven’s murder was killed, I couldn’t help but wonder if every person that came up on my radar would suddenly become a target. It actually felt a little like a night dive I once did in Thailand. I’d obviously had a dive light with me, and every time I shined it on a fish, a larger predator like a barracuda would use the opportunity to eat my subject, and it made it feel as though I were playing God with my veritable flashlight of destiny. I would therefore
prefer that my future meddling not needlessly endanger anyone else, and that meant moving forward with a great deal of caution.

  “So, what now?” Beeber asked.

  “Agent Kalili, do you happen to have a bathing suit with you?”

  “This is Hawaii—of course I do.”

  “Good, and, as we have nothing left to do today, I say we take this investigation down to the beach, because our recent arrivals have yet to dip their feet in the warm blue Pacific ocean.”

  “Good idea, Magnum,” Beeber said.

  “First, we need to get you two sun-a-phobes the rash guards I mentioned.”

  Everyone went to their respective rooms to change, and Violet, of course, came to mine. Properly dressed, we grabbed sunblock and towels then joined Beebs and Rachel in the hallway before grabbing snorkel gear from the hotel and heading out to my car. We threw everything in the trunk and drove south to one of the two Costcos that resided on the island of Oahu. This particular one was in Hawaii Kai, and, as usual, it was crowded with locals and tourists alike, because everyone was looking for a better price on their basic necessities. In Hawaii, those necessities fortunately also included snorkel gear and rash guards, and, after getting Beeber and Rachel properly outfitted, we went to the front to pay then also grabbed four icy blended coffee drinks on the way out.

  Now, we had about a five or so minute drive to Hanauma Bay, which was a long dormant undersea crater that was a haven to all manner of Hawaiian sea life. It was a tourist mecca and even charged admission, but it was worth visiting when you wanted a quick, easy, and safe place to snorkel. We paid then did the obligatory orientation and learned all about Hanauma Bay as well as the history of the islands, and the final parting words were not to touch the delicate coral or hassle any sea turtles, as the result would be a hefty fine and possible jail time. Finished, we at last hiked down the road and arrived at the beach to find the area was full of tourists. At least half were Asian, most likely Japanese, while the other half were, judging by their lighter shade of pale skin, most likely from the American heartland. Strangely, the majority stayed close to the beach, as they were unaware that the best snorkeling was farther out in the vast labyrinth of coral. We put on our fins and waded in, and Rachel looked incredibly surprised.

  “Holy shit. It’s really warm!”

  “Yeah, I keep forgetting it’s your first trip to Hawaii.” I said.

  “Yeah, no shit.”

  “Well, let me tell you—you’re going to shit when you see the fish.”

  “Anything in there I need to worry about?” she asked.

  “Other than Beeber? Not really.”

  Everyone continued on until the water was deep enough, then we dawned our masks, and I immediately heard Rachel gasp as she realized that we had been walking through a school of yellow and black striped Lemon Butterfly fish or Lau Wiliwili as the Hawaiians called them. She excitedly pointed and tried to speak, but her words were obscured by the snorkel. She was clearly excited and had never seen fish like this outside of a tank or aquarium. I waved for everyone to follow, then led them to the opening in the reef, which resided below a small buoy that marked a channel of sorts. Out here, it got even better, because there was even more sea life moving about the reef, and around us swam blue parrot fish, squirrelfish, boxfish, and pretty much every other fish you could imagine.

  We continued on and followed the channels and passed through school after school of fish before rounding a corner and seeing our first sea turtle of the day. Beebs began yelling what sounded like urtle, obviously because it was impossible to make a proper T with a snorkel in his mouth, and we all looked over to see the gentle creature swimming slowly along the sea floor. Upon seeing us, it actually swam closer and hovered in front of Rachel and Violet and stayed with them for several minutes before being startled by a bevy of Japanese tourists that suddenly appeared from around the corner. Seeing the crowd, it turned and high tailed it for the deeper open waters of the bay.

  With the turtle gone, our attention turned back to the reef, and we set off and followed a school of baby butterfly fish. I was now at the back of our group, and I took a precious moment to gaze at Violet and her otherworldly backside. It was even more glorious from this vantage point, as the magnification of the water made the experience feel a little like iMax 3D. Suddenly, as if she knew I were watching, she turned around and gave me the finger, and I held up my arms and shrugged in an attempt to look innocent. It wasn’t easy being a man.

  An hour and twenty minutes later, we at last stepped up onto the warm sand of the beach, and I had a second to admire the lovely wet glistening bodies of our female team members. I, of course, already knew Violet had a spectacular figure, as I had been lucky enough to have seen her naked, but there was just something about the right bikini that made for an enticing visage. I was also pleasantly surprised when Rachel set her gear down and turned around and I had a moment to really see her lovely and toned physique as well as her very hard nipples. Somehow, I had always expected her to have a nipple piercing, but I was happy to see that her double helix tattoo on her forearm was where her alternative tastes stopped. Seeing her in her wet bikini, I could only imagine that poor Beeber had probably ejaculated the very instant he first saw her naked. She was a lovely girl, and even now he still gazed at her with the wonderment of new love, and it made me feel pretty warm and fuzzy inside knowing that I had helped bring them together.

  “Finn, this is fucking awesome. I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.”

  “Yeah, I know, right?”

  “Fuck it! This is where we’re coming for our honeymoon,” Rachel said.

  “Honeymoon?” I asked, looking at Beeber.

  Beeber shrugged.

  “It’s not official yet.”

  “Well, congratulations anyway.”

  We walked over to the fresh water showers, and Violet and Rachel went first, and the spectacle of them frolicking in their clingy suits made it look like a calendar photo shoot. Beeber, obviously thinking the same thing, glanced at me, and we shared a knowing smile. Men would be men. The girls stepped aside, and we took their place and felt the welcome relief of washing away the sticky salt water. Feeling fresh and clean, we headed out and found a deserted section of beach beneath a palm tree and sat down to dry off, relax, and do a little people watching. As I gazed out at the water, I could see Hawaii’s latest snorkeling trend, which was to use long foam noodles for flotation. It now meant that the bay was awash in color and butts. Saltwater was already incredibly buoyant, and, when combined with a flotation device, it sent the snorkelers butt high in the air, so, while they were looking at fish, we were looking at their butts, and that, depending on the specific snorkeler, could sometimes be a good or bad thing. Beeber, meanwhile, had been deep in thought and broke from his reverie to interrupt my reverie.

  “So, you said that a spear fisherman found the gun the very next morning?” he asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Well, having just spent the last hour and a half out on the reef, I realize that you were correct in your assessment that it would be unlikely that someone could find that gun so easily.”

  “No shit. In fact, tomorrow, I want to talk to that spear fisherman.”

  A reflection up on the hill suddenly caught my attention, and I saw a man up near the parking lot looking through binoculars. From this distance, I couldn’t tell which direction he was specifically looking, but odds were pretty good that he was checking out one of the many girls that were running around the beach—perhaps even Rachel or Violet. Still, the events of the last few days were feeding my paranoia and making me wonder if he might be watching me.

  “Do you guys see that dude with the binoculars standing up on the bluff?”

  “Where?” Violet asked.

  “Right there,” I said, pointing.

  “Yeah, what about him?”

  “I don’t know. My scrot-sense started tingling when I saw him.”

  “Your what?�


  “My scrot-sense.”

  Beeber laughed.

  “He’s referring to his version of his little voice,” he said.

  Beeber was again referring to the television show Magnum P.I., and the fact that its lead character often claimed to be following the advice of his little voice or, in layman’s terms, intuition. In my case, I preferred the more colorful term scrot-sense.

  “Care to elaborate on that?” Violet asked.

  “I have a pet name for my intuition that alludes to the idea that when danger is near, my balls will sense it first and retract towards my body, and in extreme situations, perhaps even taking refuge in my butthole.”

  “Did it ever occur to you to just call it your intuition?”

  “Sure, but I like to be creative.”

  “It’s kind of more stupid than creative.”

  “I like it, but then I was there when you came up with it,” Beeber said.

  “Thanks, Beebs.”

  “You’re welcome, but are we to assume that your balls are currently nesting in your butthole?”

  “Not quite, but they’re certainly knocking on the back door.”

  “Why would anyone be following us?” Rachel asked.

  “Well, a guy we were trying to talk to was murdered in front of us yesterday.”

  Everyone got quiet and turned their attention back up to the hill, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

  “Looks like he’s gone,” Violet said.

  “But not forgotten.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Death Race

  WE STAYED ON the beach until everyone was dry then decided it was about time to get going. We began the long walk to the car, but stopped at the beach bathroom for a quick pee. The girls went into the ladies, and Beeber and I headed into the men’s side, where Beeber took the urinal and I took the stall. He let a long sigh, started peeing, then let loose a tiny high pitched fart.

  “Dude, you not only squeal like a guinea pig—you fart like one.”

  “Fuck you. That was just the opening act.”

  I decided to show Beeber how it was done and let loose a massive fart, with the result being so loud and powerful that I feared for the seams of my shorts. Argh! I feared might have had too much sail up for that kind of wind, so I reached back with my free hand and felt that I did indeed still have material covering my bum.

 

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