Banana Split (20 page)

The single-level white stucco motel looked recently updated due to the bright, still shiny, teal trim. The horseshoe-shaped building opened to the street, but a black wrought-iron fence created a barrier between the street and the courtyard, a pool, and a few lawn chairs. On one end of the building, a vacancy sign glowed in the window and, above the door, a sign said Office. It wasn’t a large motel, and it looked like it could use some more TLC, but it was likely affordable, and that counted for something. She looked up at the sign fifteen feet off the ground where the name of the motel was written in big bubbly letters, a generic pink hibiscus flower in the lower corner. The changeable marquee beneath the custom sign offered rooms with free Wi-Fi for the lowest rates in town. Sadie paid the cab driver, then headed into the office.

A young haole with long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail smiled at her from the other side of the desk. “Can I help you?”

Sadie asked for a room, and the young woman—Ashley—searched around the counter until she found a paper for Sadie to fill out. Then she fiddled with the computer, but seemed frustrated with whatever she saw on the screen. It took several attempts before she successfully charged Sadie’s card; she’d have be sure to check and make sure it wasn’t charged four times.

“When did you start working here?” she asked when Ashley handed back her card.

The girl’s face reddened, contrasting with the green-and-white Hawaiian shirt she wore. “Is it that obvious?” she said, attempting a laugh.

Sadie smiled. “You’re doing great, but learning curves are really intense sometimes.”

“No kidding,” Ashley said, smiling at Sadie with bright white teeth that matched the broken shell necklace around her neck. “So of course the computer froze on me, and the people in eighteen were playing the TV so loud that nineteen called to complain.” She took a deep breath, raised her shoulders, and then lowered them.

“Tomorrow will be easier,” Sadie said, offering a commiserating smile. “Are you from Kaua’i?”

“Just moved here,” Ashley said with a nod. “My cousin has lived here for a few years and needed a roommate.” She handed Sadie some papers. “Just fill out this top paper with your phone number and local address, if you have one.”

“Sure,” Sadie said. She started filling in the information. “So, did you know Noelani?” she asked, hoping it sounded casual.

“Who?”

“Noelani Pouhu—she used to work here.”

The girl looked confused, then her face fell. “Oh, the girl who died?”

Chapter 22

Yeah, so sad,” Ashley said, making a pouty face. “I guess she was a druggy or something. Did I remind you about the continental breakfast? It’s from seven to ten here in the lobby. Totally free.” She smiled again.

Sadie nodded. “Thanks,” she said, pondering the fact that this girl was likely Noelani’s replacement. She finished filling out the paperwork and handed it back. She couldn’t think of anything else to ask so she headed to her room—number nine, far away from the blaring TV of eighteen, for which Sadie was grateful.

She unpacked her meager supplies, mostly because she didn’t like knowing she had undies in her shoulder bag, then went back to the front desk and asked Ashley if she knew where the Fellowship of Kaua’i Christian Church was located; the church had been mentioned by name in Noelani’s obituary. Ashley didn’t know, but she looked it up on the computer.

“It’s not too far,” she said as she printed off a map and handed it to Sadie.

It was less than a five-minute walk to get there, and when she arrived, Sadie was pretty sure the motel was back-to-back with the church, or at least close; she hadn’t had to cross any streets, anyway. It was nice the church was so convenient, and she wondered if Noelani had chosen to attend the church because it was close to the motel or to work at the motel because it was close to the church.

The church building was one big square of white stucco with angled walls on the ends that led the eye upward to the large cross on top of the building. Beside the recessed doorway was black lettering that said Fellowship of Kaua’i Christian. The name didn’t quite roll off the tongue, but it communicated its nondenominational Christian base well enough.

Sadie crossed the small parking lot—nearly full this time of evening, which surprised her—and started up the wide sidewalk toward the front doors of the church. Before she reached the steps, however, she heard laughter from the back of the building and changed her course, following a narrow sidewalk around the south side of the building. The laughter and voices got louder.

While the church may have been all business out front, it was a party in the back—literally. A volleyball net had been set up in the middle of a large, grassy area, and a dozen teenagers and young adults hit a beach ball back and forth over the net. Adults were seated at some picnic tables in the shade of some twelve-foot palm trees, enjoying what looked like a hot dog dinner while a handful of little kids played on a swing set off to the side.

“
Aloha ahiahi.
”

The middle-aged man who’d addressed her as he approached wasn’t exceptionally tall, under six feet, and wore a red Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts; she’d seen the outfit so many times it seemed as though it were practically a uniform on the island. He had a puka shell necklace around his neck, and his teeth looked too white against his overly tanned face. He gripped her hand and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. Despite being on the island for three months, Sadie still wasn’t used to the affectionate greetings some of the locals gave so freely. He straightened and moved his hand to the small of her back, guiding her toward a table of food near the church.

“You’re just in time,” he said. “As soon as that game’s over”—he nodded toward the nets—“those boys will make short work of these leftovers, yeah? We better get you served up before they start viewing you as competition.”

A teenage boy in a white T-shirt and black-and-yellow board shorts dove for the beach ball and face planted into the grass instead, eliciting a burst of laughter from everyone, including her host. They reached the buffet while Sadie was still trying to keep up with the conversation, and he put a plate in her hands. “Macaroni salad and fruit?”

“Oh, um, I wasn’t really invited to this,” Sadie said, finally finding her voice as he began serving her. “I just came to talk to Pastor Darryl.”

“At your service,” he said, flashing her another smile as he put a scoop of macaroni salad on her plate. “But I wasn’t kidding about the circling sharks.” He nodded toward the game again. “We’ll get you fixed up, and then we can make proper introductions, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sadie said, nodding. It made so much sense for her to eat at a party she hadn’t been invited to when he said it like that. “Um, thanks.”

“He mea iki,”
he said. Sadie could only assume that meant “You’re welcome.”

The hot dogs were in a roasting pan at the end of the table, and he let Sadie choose her own toppings, even though he was the one who put everything else on her plate. The hot dogs were bright red—Konnie called them sunburned—but delicious.

Within a few minutes of her arrival, Sadie was seated opposite Pastor Darryl in a pair of functional vinyl chairs and commenting on how delicious the green bean pasta salad was. It was different from the typical mayonnaise-based salads she was used to, and although Sadie might have added black olives or maybe some finely diced red onion, it was very good.

“That,” he said, grinning proudly, “is my wife’s contribution to tonight’s luau. Bets is an amazing cook—
lani.
”

“She is,” Sadie agreed after swallowing. She followed his gaze across the yard to a beautiful woman talking with an older couple. She had smooth brown skin, big brown eyes, and wavy hair that was piled on top of her head, a few tendrils framing her face. “Is that your wife?” she asked, pointing.

If anything, Pastor Darryl’s smile got wider and prouder. “Sure is. She’s the kind of
wahine
that makes men believe in soul mates.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She is,” Pastor Darryl agreed. “I suppose I should formally introduce myself. I’m Pastor Darryl Earlhart, shepherd of this fold, and I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Sadie Hoffmiller,” she said, reaching her hand across to shake his even though they’d already been through the ritual greeting.

“Pleased to meet you, Sadie. You’re not
kama’aina,
yeah?” he said.

“No, I’m not local,” she said. Kama’aina was a word she’d heard a lot. “I’ve been here a few months, and I’ll be going back to Colorado soon.”

“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t meet you when you first arrived, but I’m glad to know you for the duration of your trip. You said you came to speak to me; what can I help you with?”

The reminder of her reason for being there cast a pall on the sunny exchange they’d had so far, but Sadie had only to picture Charlie in her mind before recommitting to her motives. She took one more bite of the salad, then laid down her fork. “I’m afraid that I’m here to discuss a difficult subject,” she said by way of preparing him.

“I’m a pastor,” he said without losing his smile. “Difficult subjects are my specialty. Which one brought you here?”

“Noelani Pouhu,” Sadie said and watched his eyes jump and his smile falter.

He leaned back in his chair and rested his hands lightly on his thighs. “Noelani,” he said almost reverently. “She was a dear
makamaka,
and we miss her very much.”

“I understand she was active in your church.”

He nodded. “Very active, very involved. And with such a powerful spirit. How did you know her?”

“I didn’t,” Sadie said, looking down and reminding herself why she was there. “I . . . I found her in the ocean after she died.”

Pastor Darryl paused, then leaned forward, putting his hand on Sadie’s forearm, which she found uncomfortable. “Oh, dear sister, I am sorry. That must have been an awful experience for you.”

“It was,” Sadie said, blocking out the memories that tried to intrude. She’d controlled her anxiety so well the last couple of days. She needed to keep herself present, and yet she could feel the slight tingling in the back of her neck.

“And now you’re looking for closure? For purpose in this tragedy?”

His hand was still on her arm, and she wished he’d let go. She wasn’t used to having people touch her, let alone a man in such a familiar way. “Sort of. I’m also trying to put the pieces together for her son.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “You know Charlie?”

“A little,” Sadie explained, having already decided not to keep too many secrets in hopes he would do the same. “I hoped that talking to the people who were her friends might fill in some of the blanks. For Charlie, of course. Can you tell me when you last saw her?”

“A couple of days before she disappeared,” he said, then waved toward the crowd. “At a gathering like this. We do it every Thursday night. She came only for a short time; she worked early the next morning.”

“Do you know what happened the night she disappeared?”

Pastor Darryl shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “I’m afraid what happened to her that night is a mystery for me as well as for everyone else,” he said. “I know that she was supposed to be at work and she called someone to finish her shift. That’s the last anyone saw or heard from her.”

“What did you think happened?” Sadie asked. “Before her . . . body was found?”

“Noelani was a recovering addict facing hard times,” he said, shrugging slightly and looking sad. “When she didn’t finish her shift and no one heard from her, I assumed she’d relapsed.”

“Is there anything specific that makes you think that? Had she said she was tempted to go back?”

“She was always tempted,” Pastor Darryl said. “Every day, every hour. Drugs had been her best friend for a very long time.”

“But she’d been clean for two years, right?”

“And still dreaming of using at night,” he said, smiling compassionately. “She and I spoke of it often those last few weeks; she had a great fear of not being able to stay away. As hard as it might be for us to understand, drugs were the one thing in her life that had never abandoned her, and she didn’t quite feel like herself without them.”