Lana'i of the Tiger (The Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) Read Free

line? You are home, Ms.
Morton. You’re husband’s combat fatality was a truly disturbing event for you,
but we’ve done everything we can to allow you time to rest and recover. Until
you’re ready to move forward with your life, all I can say is please enjoy your
time at the taxpayers’ expense. Most young widows don’t get an opportunity like
this. And don’t forget, we still have that trip to Disney World coming up.”
    “I’m willing to go to Disney
World, no problem. But why do I have to wait here while my cousins fool around
getting it set up? Seems to me they aren’t in any big hurry to make it happen.”
    “We’ve been over this a hundred
times, Penny. I know you’re bored, but there’s only one way this is going to
happen and it’s out of our control. If you keep up the whining, I may have to
move you closer to Disney World while we wait. It’s your call. You can amuse
yourself where you are, or get ready to move to someplace much further away.”
    “Fine, I got it. I’ll see about
taking up basket weaving.”
    ***
    I have a black belt in kung
fu . I don’t say that to brag, but rather to point out how I used to spend a
lot of my free time back home. Over on Lana’i the only fitness activities I’d
found were ‘sit and stretch,’ which was offered twice a week at the Senior
Center, and tai chi , which was open to the public every Monday,
Wednesday, and Friday morning in Dole Park. I went one Monday morning and I was
the only person there under the age of sixty. Tai chi is healthy and
relaxing, but it’s boring. I mean, I was used to kicking and screaming, and
here I was silently moving in slow motion. The whole practice felt like martial
arts for the meek.
    So, to keep up my skills, I
began practicing my kung fu forms every morning in my living room. But
without a guan —a martial arts gym—I couldn’t really get my blood
pumping. I was used to sparring with other members at Palace of Pain, the guan I belong to in Pa’ia. Not only was fighting a great way to burn calories, but
it kept me sharp. With every day that passed on Lana’i I felt a tad less confident,
a bit more flabby. It was as if my self-esteem had developed a slow leak.
    That’s why I took up running. I
never ran on Maui because there was too much traffic. My house is in a hilly
area called Hali’imaile. The only roads up there are skinny two-laners that cut
through an agricultural area. Tourist and local drivers alike are known to
barrel down those roads going twice the posted speed limit. Without any
shoulders to escape to, a runner is just road kill waiting to happen.
    But on Lana’i the roads were
virtually empty. Okay, only thirty miles of the roads are paved, but dirt roads
aren’t a big problem for runners.
    The next morning, as I was
sprinting through town on my way out toward the Garden of the Gods, I turned on
Kua’aina Street. About halfway down the block I passed a plantation-style home
with a hand-written sign in the window that said, ‘Help Wanted.’ It didn’t look
like the kind of place that would demand fingerprints, and besides, it had a
huge greenhouse in the back. Maybe helping out in a greenhouse would be fun. I’d
never done much with plants. In fact, my scraggly lawn over in Hali’imaile was
the blight of the neighborhood. I could picture myself getting jiggy with
Mother Nature. Why not?
    I walked up and down the block,
cooling down and rehearsing my BS. It was annoying, all this lying and
subterfuge, but if it helped me get a job to pass the time, and it kept Wong
from dragging my sorry butt over to the mainland to wait for the grand jury, then
I’d lie until my teeth cracked.
    I knocked on the screen door and
a young, very pregnant, woman came out of a back room. She smiled at me and
came to unlatch the door.
    “ Aloha ,” she said. She
blinked in the bright sun and put up a hand to shield her eyes as she held the
door open. “Come in, e komo mai .”
    “ Aloha , have I disturbed
you?”