Bet Your Bones (11 page)

Dinah didn’t doubt that, present company in no way excepted. Raif seemed to delight in disparaging Xander. Whatever issues Lyssa had with her father, Raif stoked the fire. Lyssa would naturally be torn between her father and her husband, and maybe between her brother and her husband. It must make her life a tricky balancing act.

She said, “Jon told me that after the accident his father moved in with him to take care of him.”

“That must have been a drag. The way those two circle around each other like a pair of boxers on guard for the next punch, it makes everybody jumpy.”

“They don’t get along?”

“They don’t go at each other. It’s more like the air between them is combustible.”

And how, Dinah wondered, is that different from the air between you and Xander? “You seem to despise Xander. Why?”

“I don’t like the way he leans on Lyssa and tries to tell her how to spend her money. It’s hers. Her grandfather left it to her and Xander’s got no right.”

“He probably resents the way you gamble with your wife’s money.”

“Takes one to know one.” He curled his lip. “At least I’m not a hypocrite. Like they say down South, if you can’t race it, play with it, or take it to bed, who needs it?”

Chapter Fifteen

Claude Ann didn’t call Dinah to come and hold her hand and Raif’s snide backbiting taxed Dinah’s endurance to the limit. At midnight, she decided that Claude Ann must be sleeping soundly through the night and there was no point in hanging around any longer. She stood up and stretched. A dull pain drummed against her temples and it occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten in hours.

“Had enough?” asked Raif.

“Yes. Would you mind stopping off for a burger on the way back to the Olopana?”

“Sounds like a plan. I’m hungry, too.”

They left and Raif drove to a drive-in with a blazing neon sign—The Shark Bite. He parked under a carport strung with red and blue Christmas lights. A well-endowed young woman in a tight tee and short shorts roller-skated up to the car window and smiled.

Dinah ordered a burger and fries and a large coffee. She already knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, so she might as well be fueled to think straight.

“Give me a cheeseburger and a cola,” Raif said. “Any kind. It doesn’t matter.”

While they waited, he lolled against the driver’s door and seemed to consider. “You really care about her, don’t you? Claude Ann, I mean.”

“I really do.” The question surprised her and not only because it came from Raif. It had been a while since she had reflected on the reasons she loved Claude Ann, but she certainly did. She loved her for her loyalty and her high spirits, for her spontaneous and arbitrary acts of kindness, for her lack of pretense and her easy laugh. Claude Ann was the only person outside of Dinah’s family who knew her when. When she was young and trusting. Before Needmore and her father’s betrayal made her cynical. She and Claude Ann were the repository of each other’s earliest history and now Dinah was bearing witness to another crisis in Claude Ann’s life. At the moment, it seemed as if this one, too, was trending toward heartbreak.

She had been dubious about Xander from the start, but with this bizarre attack on Claude Ann, her doubts metastasized. Claude Ann had trusted Xander with her heart, trusted him with God only knew how much of her money. He seemed to be genuinely in love with her, but seeming and being were two entirely different things and so far, he hadn’t shown the kind of commitment that would redeem him in Dinah’s eyes.

The food arrived. Raif pulled a fifth of Jack Daniels out of the glove compartment and added a splash of high octane to his cola. “Want a shot?”

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

They ate in silence and Dinah began to feel a little better. Less empty, anyway. Tomorrow she’d have a heart-to-heart with Claude Ann and, without divulging her misgivings about Xander or putting Claude Ann on the defensive, she would convince her to wait a few weeks before plighting her troth.

Dinah finished her burger and wiped the mustard off her fingers with a paper napkin. “Thanks for dinner.”

Raif topped up his cola with more whiskey and slid a hand down her thigh. “You want to go to a motel?”

She recoiled and stared at him. “Are you flat-out crazy or just a conceited cheat?”

“Like Mick Jagger says, marrying money’s a full time job. I take a night off now and then. We could say we spent all night keeping vigil at the hospital. It’s the perfect cover.”

“Go to hell.”

“What’s the matter? Aren’t I as dashing as Jon?”

“You’re repulsive.”

He grabbed her arms and pulled her into him, crushing his mouth against hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth. She squirmed out of his grasp, jerked open the door, and jumped out.

He smirked. “Lyssa won’t believe you, so you needn’t bother tattling.”

She slammed the car door, turned on her heels, and fumed inside the drive-in. Some days it was hard not to give up in disgust on the whole catalog of humanity.

***

Her habit of carrying a hundred dollar bill pinned in the hem of her dress had paid off. The taxi dropped her off under the portico of the Olopana and she handed the driver the bill.

“I can’t make change for a century.”

“Keep it. I don’t have a pocket anyway.”

The Olopana looked deserted. The lobby was lit, but the receptionist must have stepped away for a break. Too angry and restless to sleep, Dinah drifted out to the beach, took off her shoes, and started walking. She couldn’t stomach walking where the horror had taken place. Eleanor had said there were no restricted beaches in Hawaii, so Dinah availed herself of the beach belonging to the hotel next door.

The sand felt cool under her feet and the soughing sound of the surf calmed her. Out here, there were no trust issues. Everything was controlled by the gravitational pull of the moon. She waded up to her ankles through the lapping waves and halfway thought about stripping off her blood-stained dress and skinny dipping, but the floodlights around the hotel threw off too much light and the possibility that her blood might attract a shark stopped her cold.

She hadn’t noticed it before, but a hundred yards along there was a lifeguard tower. As she drew closer, she saw Jon, elbows leaning across the rail, staring out at the water.

“Ahoy.”

“Come aboard. I scavenged a bottle of Scotch from the caterers if you’re interested.”

“I could use a bracer.”

He offered her a hand and she climbed up the ladder.

“Dad called and said Claude Ann wasn’t seriously hurt.”

“Not physically.”

They sat in canvas chairs and he drizzled a couple of inches of Dewars into a plastic cup and placed it in her hand. “Soda?”

“Yes, please.” The strong, peaty smell of the Scotch had an astringent effect and, in close quarters, he transmitted a distracting sexual vibe along with the scent of Scotch and sandalwood soap. “Romantic setting, mood-enhancing libation. You’re the perfect date.”

He gave a mordant little laugh. “When the moon’s behind a cloud.” But the moon wasn’t behind a cloud and there was a floodlight at the base of the tower. He replenished his Scotch and brought out a bottle of soda. As he poured, she fixated on his scars. Dashing they were not. And it was curious that he’d made no attempt to get himself surgically reconstructed.

“Hell of a day,” he said.

She thought about Claude Ann’s toast—was it only last night?—to happy days. “It’s a day with nasty repercussions, and not just for the bride and groom. Your Aunt Eleanor is the prime suspect.”

“From what I know of her, Eleanor doesn’t do anything anonymously. She’s pretty much in-your-face.”

That much, Dinah could believe. “Maybe she got tired of Xander being a no-show at her demonstrations. Maybe she decided to do something outrageous to dynamite him out of his foxhole.” She thought about Avery’s sketchy description of Leilani, an exotic beauty who died young—the night-and-day antithesis of Eleanor. But sister love could be strong. Was Leilani’s suicide the impetus for Eleanor’s resentment of Xander? “Tell me about your mother’s death, Jon. If it isn’t huna.”

“I was six years old, Lyssa four. Dad was away in California. I remember her being on the telephone, crying really hard. When she hung up, she said she was sick and had to go to the doctor. She took Lyssa and me to Eleanor’s house in the country. It was the first time we kids had ever met Eleanor. She and my mother had a big fight, mostly in Hawaiian. It sounded like they were calling each other names. Lyssa cried. My mother kissed us, then got in the car and drove away. Eleanor took us to town and bought us a colossal dish of Roselani ice cream—Menehune mint. We never saw my mother again.”

“Did you ever find out who she was talking to on the telephone or what had upset her?”

“No.”

“You’re sure her nickname wasn’t Pash?”

He flicked a sideways glance at her. “Everyone called her Lani.” His gaze returned to the ocean. “I know that from your perspective and probably Claude Ann’s, Eleanor is the logical culprit. But I don’t believe it. She wouldn’t do something this cowardly and mean-spirited to a woman who’s done nothing wrong except to fall in love with the man she has a beef with.”

Dinah was prone to agree. Maybe in the fervor of her hatred, Eleanor had made up the word Pash as a sort of curse or incantation. But why did Jon seem so ambivalent about Xander? She didn’t give much credence to Raif’s slurs, but there did seem to be something huna in the way everyone spoke about Jon’s accident. “You were blunt with me, Jon. May I ask you a blunt question?”

“Turnabout’s fair play.”

“How did your accident happen?”

“Like Kamapua’a, I encroached on Pele’s domain.”

It required an effort not to snap at him. Nobody loved a myth more than Dinah, but the idea of Pele as the agency behind every occurrence in the State of Hawaii was becoming tiresome and Jon’s evasions in particular irked her. She said, “I ran across that name in my book of myths. Wasn’t he Pele’s lover?”

“One of them. The goddess favored him for a while, but when he grew too bold, she chased him into the sea with streams of fire.”

“And you identify with this myth because you became too bold to wear your protective clothing?”

“Who told you that?”

“Does it matter?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I identify because Kamapua’a was half man and half monster.”

“That’s a terrible way to see yourself.”

“It’s not a matter of how I see myself. It’s how others see me.”

“I thought you had too much, I don’t know…intelligence to indulge in self-pity.”

“No, you didn’t. You were just relieved when I pretended not to notice your pity. I’ve come to terms with the man in the mirror and I wouldn’t trade skins with anyone. But I’m not oblivious to the effect my scars have on people.”

She didn’t know what to say without making it sound like a condolence. “Like you said, once a person gets used to you, you’re not so bad.”

He laughed that mordant laugh. “The early Hawaiians mutilated themselves with all kinds of gashes and burns to prove their devotion to a lover. Their scars were called alina and they were all the rage. I’d have been quite a knockout back in the day.”

Dinah was too squeamish even to get a discreet little tattoo. She didn’t think she would’ve gone for gashes or burns, however artistic or faddish. But with the moon beginning to slide behind a cloud and the Scotch seeping into her bloodstream, Jon’s alina were growing on her in a disturbingly paganish way. She eighty-sixed herself. “What were you doing next to red-hot lava without your protective gear?”

“I was testing a lobe of pahoehoe lava. Pahoehoe is beautiful. It flows in a smooth, rolling motion and as it cools and hardens, it looks like coils of twisted rope. It doesn’t radiate as much heat as a’a lava. If you’ve got sturdy boots and gloves and work quickly, you don’t need the full suit.”

“Were you angry at your father before the accident or did you fall out afterward?”

His body stiffened. “Who said I was angry?”

“Everything you’ve said to me about him contains a not-so-veiled distrust of the man. Claude Ann mentioned a rift and Raif said that you and Xander were wary of each other.”

“Wary’s a good word. Raif is surprisingly perceptive up to a point. My father and I have had our differences, some of them fierce. But he raised Lyssa and me single-handed, he took care of me when I was burned and sick, and I believe that he loves us. Some problems in life are insoluble. Dad and I try to steer clear of those. I’m happy he’s finally found somebody he loves and wants to spend the rest of his life with. It should happen to us all.” He belted the last of his Scotch and stood up.

“Give me your hand.” He pulled her to her feet and she was seized by an untoward urge, almost like a tic, to kiss him. Big mistake, she thought. Sexual curiosity mingled with compassion, ticklish in the extreme. But sex won out. She stood on her toes, closed her eyes, and kissed him on the mouth.

His response was more than she’d bargained on. When she came up for air, her knees were rubbery and her dopamine level dangerously high. So this was what it felt like to kiss a heathen descendant of a fire goddess.

He said, “That didn’t taste like consolation.”

She was casting about for words when something bumped the back of the tower. She looked around the side of the structure and saw a lanky figure in a billed cap limping hurriedly down the beach.

“How long do you suppose he’s been listening?” asked Jon.

“I…don’t…know.” She watched the man until he hobbled out of sight behind the hotel.

Sorrowing Jesus. Well, that solved the bucket of blood mystery and probably the missing gun, as well. So it wasn’t Eleanor or any of the local meanies after all. How could she have thought even for one second that Hank would stay at home and miss Claude Ann’s next wedding?

Chapter Sixteen

“I want his miserable tee-totalin’ liver on a stick. I’d like to rip his sanctimonious tongue right out of his head. I’d like to lop off his cracker balls and feed ’em to the fish. I’d like to…”

“Claudy, I take your point.” Dinah speared a chunk of the pineapple garnish off her plate and stuffed it into her mouth. Room service had delivered her breakfast eggs and bacon at six a.m. They sat congealing on the serving trolley and she hadn’t managed to eat more than two bites.

“Of all the lowdown, contemptible, dirty tricks. I wish he were dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead!”

Dinah held the receiver away from her ear until the tirade subsided. “I reported Hank’s appearance to the police and Marywave gave them the name of his hotel. By the time you’re released from the hospital, the police will have nabbed him.”

“What does Marywave have to say for herself? Did the little traitor cook it up with her daddy to put me in the hospital?”

Dinah looked at Marywave, her eyes rimmed red from crying and her lips quivering. “No, Claude Ann. Hank didn’t think you were reading his letters so he told Marywave he was going to leave you a message you couldn’t ignore. She didn’t know about the blood. She’s scared sick and worried about you and her father, too. We’re all worried about Hank. He’s obviously gone off the deep end and now he has a gun.”

Marywave sniffled. “Tell Mama it wasn’t my fault.”

“Marywave says to tell you it wasn’t her fault.”

“Ask her when he got here? How long’s he been spyin’ on me?”

“Do you want to talk to Marywave, yourself?”

“I can’t talk to her. I’m too keyed up. Tell her she’s a sneaky little piss-ant and a complete pain in the ass. And I love her.”

“Your mother loves you, Marywave.” Dinah ate another piece of pineapple. “The police think he got the blood from a luau or a hotel kitchen. They recommend that you apply to the court for an injunction in case he makes bail.”

“Sheesh! I don’t know how I can make it up to Xan. He’s walkin’ on eggshells because his deal’s gotta close right on time or else. His buyer was at the party last night thinkin’ we’re all nice as pie and along comes my crazy-ass, infra dig ex-husband and causes a bloody horror show. Xan’ll be here any minute and I don’t know how I can explain.”

It irritated Dinah that Claude Ann felt she owed Xander an apology. “You couldn’t possibly have foreseen that Hank would show up and assault you. And how can what happened to you make any difference to the Uwahi deal? Anyway, it’s not just Xander’s deal. It’s your deal, too. Phoebe says you’ve lent him a good deal of money.”

“Yes, I put up some money.” She sounded as if she might be about to cry. “And now I’ve balled things up. Everything would be perfect if I hadn’t brought my holy mess of an ex-husband from Needmore on my coattails.”

If the buyer was the eager beaver Steve said he was, Dinah didn’t see the problem. Hank, on the other hand, had shown himself capable of wreaking serious havoc. “I think you should postpone the wedding until after Hank is behind bars for good or has left the state. If he stays out of jail, injunctions are no guarantee that he’ll leave you alone. Hold off for a month.”

“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t! I won’t be bullied, Dinah Pelerin. Not by you or that ugly witch Eleanor or Hank freakin’ Kemper.”

“Come on, Claudy. Use your head for something besides a hairdo. Think about your safety. Think about Marywave’s safety and Xander’s. It can’t hurt to put off the wedding for a few weeks. I’ll stay. I received a message this morning from one of the professors I’ve been working for on Mindinao. Some journalists and politicians were beheaded a few days ago and the anthropology team has decided to call it quits and go home. I can stay on for a while and be your bodyguard.”

“You can stay as long as you want, but somebody’s gonna have to behead me before I call it quits. Yvonne was late sending our dresses to the hotel so they weren’t damaged. I’m gettin’ married bright ‘n early on the day after tomorrow no matter if God turns the whole bleepin’ ocean to blood.”

It was no use. Dinah had been down this road with Claude Ann before. Once she made up her mind, she was like a stuck accelerator pedal—flat-out, headlong, full speed ahead. “How much time before we leave for Hilo?”

“Xander’s packed my things for me and as soon as the doc gives me my walkin’ papers, we’re outa here. We’ll meet the rest of y’all at the airport at ten-thirty sharp. We’re gonna fly on Avery Wilhite’s private plane. Jon’ll drive you and Phoebe and Marywave.”

“Tis not mine to reason why.”

“What?”

“Nevermind. I’ll see you at ten-thirty.” Dinah hung up the phone.

“Does she hate me?” whined Marywave.

“Of course, she doesn’t hate you. But what your dad did to her is hateful. I don’t know if he intended to hurt her, but if he didn’t, he showed a total lack of foresight.”

“I still don’t believe Hank did it,” said Phoebe, coming out of the bathroom. She’d been alternately throwing up and bursting into tears ever since Dinah had rousted her out of bed in the wee hours with the news that Hank was prowling around outside the hotel. When Marywave confessed to giving him a key card to Claude Ann’s suite and Dinah telephoned the police, Phoebe’s stomach had rebelled. Physically and emotionally depleted now, she drooped onto the loveseat next to Marywave. “Just because he went into Claude Ann’s suite, and grant you he shouldn’t have done that, it doesn’t mean he dumped the blood or took her gun. You said yourself this Eleanor woman is dangerous and a local person would know better than Hank where to get a gallon of pig’s blood.” Her shrill voice grated on Dinah’s caffeinated nerves.

“Get real, Phoebe. He’s been writing Claude Ann threatening letters, he sneaked into Hawaii without telling her, he had the key to her room. And as for the pig’s blood, Hank puts the husband in animal husbandry and always has.”

“You’ve never liked him.” Phoebe hooked her arm protectively around Marywave’s shoulders. “But you shouldn’t talk about him like that in front of Marywave.”

Big tears rolled down Marywave’s cheeks and Dinah eased up. “Your daddy’s been going through hard times since his car accident, Marywave. He may have sustained a head injury the doctors didn’t find. Maybe he needs to get checked out by a neurologist or a psychiatrist. Maybe if he pays restitution for the damage he did and agrees to get professional help, he won’t have to go to jail. At least, not for long.”

“You’re not much of a comforter, are you?” Phoebe stood up and took Marywave’s hand. “Let’s go back to my room and pack your things, sweetpea.”

“Wait.” Dinah held out her hand. “Give me your phone, Marywave. I assume Hank has your number, too, Phoebe.”

Phoebe was indignant. “I’m not giving you my phone.”

Dinah stared her down. “He’s wanted for questioning by the police, Phoebe. Aid and abet at your own risk.”

Marywave handed over her little pink Kajeet. Dinah opened the door and watched them walk down the hall and go inside Phoebe’s room, then closed her door and flopped onto the bed face-first. She tried to envision her butterfly self, any self at all with wings to fly her out of here in the opposite direction from Hilo. She thought about the next forty-eight hours and moaned out loud. “As God is my witness, I will never attend another wedding as long as I live.”