Bet Your Bones (3 page)

“She won’t have to. They’re as old as we are.”

Dinah did the math. Xander had to be in his fifties. “How long has Xan been divorced?”

“He’s not divorced. His wife died over twenty years ago and he’s never remarried.”

“How is it that someone that wonderful managed to stay single for so many years?”

Claude Ann added another spoonful of sugar to her Koko Head. “I think he was afraid to let himself fall in love again until now. His wife dived off a cliff into the ocean and killed herself. He must’ve been super traumatized. After all these years, he still gets grouchy if anybody goes near the subject. The only reason I know about it is ‘cause Lyssa, that’s his daughter, dropped it into the conversation like a live rat. Lyssa’s a bitch, but I had to include her in the weddin’ for Xan’s sake. Thank God she’s married and lives way off in Virginia so we won’t have to fake the sweetness and light all that often. Her husband is worse than she is. A real snake-in-the-grass. Xan’s son Jon lives on the Big Island, but he’s kind of a hermit.”

“Will he come to the wedding?”

“I hope so. He’s the apple of Xan’s eye, but there was some kind of a silly rift and they don’t talk much.” She reached across the table and clasped Dinah’s hands. “Gosh, I’m glad you came, Di. I want things between us to be like they used to be. I was mad at you for a long time. Mostly, I think I was mad at myself. Anyhow, I’ve missed you.”

Dinah had a momentary urge to blurt out the truth, but it no longer mattered. In fact, it would be gratuitous cruelty. Claude Ann was in love again and Dinah was beginning to see this breakup with Hank as a culmination of her own guilt. Everything had worked out for the best and she was more than ready to let bygones be bygones. “I’ve missed you, too, Claudy. More than you know. And it’ll be great to see your parents again. Have they arrived yet?”

“They’re not coming.”

“Why? They’re not ill, are they?”

Claude Ann’s eyes wandered. “I didn’t invite them.”

“But, you’re their only child. They’ll be so hurt.”

“They’ll be better off waitin’ ’til I’m settled.” Still, she didn’t meet Dinah’s eyes. Something was wrong.

“Why aren’t they coming, Claude Ann?”

She made an airy gesture of dismissal. “Oh, you know how they are, Needmore through and through. Daddy would want Xander to take him squirrel huntin’ and Mama would fire the caterers and serve catfish and hush puppies at the reception.”

“You’re embarrassed for Xander to meet them.”

“I am not! Xan’s not the least bit snobby.”

“What is it then?”

She clouded up and bit her lip. “Some stupid people have been protestin’ Xander’s development. Some malarkey about the bones of an ol’ Hawaiian king buried on the property. They follow us around wavin’ signs and shoutin’ all kinds of nutty things. Daddy and Mama wouldn’t know what to make of their hoo-ha.”

“Can’t Xander get an injunction or something?”

“He acts, I don’t know, kind of buffaloed. Like he has to tiptoe around ’em. I’ll bring the folks out after I’m settled. Speaking of not being settled, you sure jet around. Australia, Panama, the Philippines. Loved your postcards. I want to hear about all your travels and your boyfriends. Are you still goin’ hot ‘n heavy with that guy in Seattle? Nick something or other?”

“We split a year ago.”

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. It sounded for a while there like you’d met the love of your life.”

“He wasn’t the man I thought he was.” Dinah concealed a pang of irritation. It wasn’t as pleasant to reflect on one’s own romantic miscalculations as it was someone else’s.

“Well, I hope he didn’t aggravate your trust issues. Hold on! I almost forgot.” Claude Ann whipped a small, beribboned box out of her handbag. “These are for you.”

Dinah untied the ribbon, opened the box, and held up a pair of earrings with clusters of shiny black stones dangling on delicate gold chains. “They’re lovely.”

“Those doodads shot right out of one of Xander’s volcanoes. They’re called Pele’s tears. I had a jeweler polish them and set them in gold for you. I didn’t give you a gift the last time you stood up for me and I wanted to give you something special this time.”

Dinah removed her silver hoops and fastened them in her ears. “How do they look?”

“Killer. With that long neck and square jaw of yours, you were meant to wear dangles. And I see you still have great taste in handbags.” She held up a black leather hobo purse identical to Dinah’s and pulled out her wallet. “We’re runnin’ late. Dump a handful of those nuts in your purse and let’s roll. Xander’s meetin’ us at the hotel over by Diamond Head. We’re gonna spend two nights here on Oahu. We’ll do our fittings tomorrow afternoon and Xan’s hostin’ a party for some of his Honolulu buds in the evening. We’ll fly on to the Big Island the morning after that.” She dealt a fifty off a deck of new greenbacks, dropped it on the table, and bounced up ready to go.

“Aren’t you going to wait for some change?”

“This isn’t the Garden of Eat’n in Needmore. People around here tip big.” She hoisted Dinah’s suitcase and streaked toward the door like a greyhound after a mechanical rabbit.

Not that big, thought Dinah, shouldering her bag and falling into step behind her.

“Get a move on, Marywave,” sang out Claude Ann. “Let’s go! Chop-chop!”

Marywave hopped off the bench and scampered along at Dinah’s side. As they hustled out of the terminal into the late afternoon sunshine, she said, “If it wasn’t for you, I never woulda been born.”

Dinah gave her a sharp look. “What do you mean?”

“I heard Mama arguin’ with Gran about divorcin’ Daddy. Gran called Mama a quitter and Mama said if you hadn’t made such a big fat fool of her, she wouldn’t have married anybody, especially not Daddy.”

Dinah froze. This was an omen. Turn on your heel this instant, she told herself. Turn and take the next flight back to Manila. But Marywave snatched her hand and began running and she felt herself dragged, irresistibly, over the cliff into Claude Ann’s life again.

Chapter Three

The Olopana Hotel was located in a swank residential neighborhood at the end of an alley overarched by massive banyan trees. It was 7:30 by the time Claude Ann turned her rental car into the twilit hotel drive and, at first, Dinah couldn’t make out what was happening in front of the entrance. There seemed to be some kind of a disturbance. A shadowy mob brandished torches and waved signs. A police car with its lights flashing sat parked under the portico and two uniformed cops and a valet appeared to be in a dispute with an immense woman who was shaking some kind of a bamboo rattle. As Claude Ann’s car pulled closer, Dinah read the crudely lettered signs.
Uwahi Joose!
and
Garst Steals From The Kanaka Maoli And See Pele’s Revenge
.

“It’s those damn people again.” Claude Ann parked behind the police car and put a hand to her face. “See what I mean?”

“Roll down your window, Claudy.” Dinah craned her neck to see out the driver’s side window.

“That ugly ol’ battleax has been harassin’ us all week and the police can’t seem to do a damn thing about it.”

The big woman’s voice thundered. “Dat buggah Garst tink our land just dirt and rocks to be dug up and planted wid houses. Da land is da body of Pele. No moa houses!”

Claude Ann ticked her fingernails against her teeth, as if poised between fight and flight. “They just won’t let up. All those hateful, nutty signs. I thought Hawaiians spoke English.” Tears welling, she launched out of the door. “Go away! Go away, you people! Go away and leave me and my fiancé alone.”

A burly, brown-skinned cop lowered his arm like a turnstile in front of Claude Ann. “Go inside the hotel, ma’am. Don’t escalate the situation.”

Dinah got out of the car, moved around beside Claude Ann, and took her arm. “Let the police handle it, Claudy.”

“Well, they’re not handlin’ it. What’s that sign about revenge? Are they threatenin’ us, officer? What do those other signs say?”

“Dey say Pele can’t be zoned.” The big woman’s voice rumbled, low and freighted with foreboding. “Pele can’t be platted and subdivided. Tell yo man he bettah leave Uwahi alone.” The red light from the police car strobing across her broad, pugnacious face lent an aura of menace.

“It’s a free country,” said Claude Ann. “People can do whatever they like with their own property.”

“Please, ma’am,” said the cop, taking Claude Ann by the arm and turning her toward the door. “Do as I ask. Go inside and let the police handle the problem.”

Claude Ann threw off his hand. “Whose side are you on?”

“They have a right to hold a peaceful demonstratation, ma’am.”

The big woman pointed her bamboo rattle at Claude Ann. “If Garst wants a beef, we geev ‘im beef. You tell ‘im Uwahi bring ‘im bachi plenny koke.”

“What kind of mumbo jumbo is that?” demanded Claude Ann. “Officer?”

“It’s pidgin,” said the cop. “She says the Uwahi project is bad karma.”

“Sheesh!”

A TV truck rolled up behind Claude Ann’s car and a man with a shoulder-mounted camera jumped out and began to film the scene.

A blond reporter got out on the other side of the truck and futzed with her microphone. “Get a tight shot of those signs, Perry. Zoom in on Eleanor and the ringleaders.”

“Be careful her ugly mug doesn’t break your camera,” taunted Claude Ann.

The other cop, a white guy with a horsy face and no neck, slung an irascible look at Claude Ann. “Please go inside the hotel, ma’am. Harsh words will only inflame the situation.”

“Then do your job, officer. The whole bunch of ’em oughta be jailed for trespassing.”

“All of Hawaii is our land,” came a loud voice from somewhere in the crowd. “Can’t trespass on our own land.”

The reporter secured her mike around her neck and approached Claude Ann. “Are you a spokesperson for Uwahi Gardens? Has the Land Use Commission okayed the proposed sale?”

“No.” Claude Ann backed away. “I mean, I don’t know about the Land Use Commission. I’m Xander Garst’s fiancée. And these people are nothin’ but bullies and hooligans.”

“Does Mr. Garst have confidence that the Commission will grant approval?” The reporter held the mike under Claude Ann’s nose.

“You’ll have to ask…”

The big woman’s voice rolled over Claude Ann’s. “Dey can approve anyting. Don’t mean it’s gonna get built. Garst can’t cockaroach no more land dat belongs to Pele.”

“You’re freakin’ nuts!” said Claude Ann, and stormed into the lobby.

Marywave, looking curious but uncertain, scrambled out of the back seat and followed her mother inside. Dinah held back, fascinated by the confrontation and the real-life manifestation of the Pele myth in modern Honolulu. Who were these people and what had Xander Garst done to get them so worked up? For all its touristic and commercial trappings, maybe Hawaii wasn’t as tame and Christianized as she’d assumed.

“‘Aihui!” yelled a bare-chested, angry young man, pointing straight at Dinah. “Pele gonna bust you, too.”

Dinah was dumbfounded. What had she done? “Officer, what’s that word? What does it mean?”

The white cop rounded on her. “It means go inside. Right now! That’s an order.”

Well, a-LO-bloody-ha. She about-faced and stalked into the lobby, repeating the strange word to herself so she’d remember it. ‘Aihui. ‘Aihui. She’d find out what it meant.

At the reception desk, an attractive Asian woman was apologizing profusely to Claude Ann. “The Olopana regrets this unpleasantness, Ms. Kemper. We’ve asked the police to keep the protesters farther from the entrance, but they haven’t been very effective.”

“It’s not your fault, but this is the third time in a week.”

“We appreciate your patience. The manager told Mr. Garst he’d file for an injunction, but Mr. Garst doesn’t want to give them any more publicity.” She handed Claude Ann an envelope. “He left you a message and he said for me to tell you that every hour he’s away from you is torture.”

Claude Ann nudged Dinah in the ribs. “Isn’t he just the darlingest man in the world?”

Dinah forced a smile. Judging from the hubbub outside, there was some difference of opinion.

While the receptionist checked Dinah in, Claude Ann turned away and read her message.

As with the plane ticket, Dinah’s hotel bill was pre-paid, so registration was a simple matter of signing her name and accepting her key card.

Claude Ann finished reading and said, “Xan’s runnin’ late on account of business. You wanna go to your room and freshen up before dinner?”

“In a few minutes.” Dinah surrendered her suitcase to a hovering porter. “I need to walk around a bit and unwind.”

“Don’t snack and spoil your dinner.”

“I won’t.” She watched as Claude Ann strode across the lobby to the elevators with Marywave scuffing along behind. When they disappeared, she crept back to the door and peeped out at the action.

The fireworks had fizzled and the protesters were already dispersing into the shadows. Dinah felt a sense of relief for Claude Ann, but the anthropologist in her couldn’t help feeling disappointed. It wasn’t every day one had the chance to interact with pagans. The TV people had turned off the camera and the mike and stood schmoozing with the policemen. Dinah opened the glass door a crack to hear.

“…just rumor and gossip,” said the brown-skinned cop. “Nobody alleged foul play.”

“He’s one powerful kahuna,” said the cameraman, who looked
Filipino. “That old tita’s got a lot of guts to go up against him.”

“Isn’t she related to…?” The blond reporter caught sight of Dinah in the doorway and pursed her lips, as if evaluating her as a potential news source. The cops looked, too, and Dinah let go of the door and retreated across the marbled lobby. At the far end, there was another glass door through which she could see a terrace with tables and umbrellas. She slammed outside, crossed the terrace, and emerged onto a beautiful crescent of beach.

There was no one on the terrace. The only sound on this side of the hotel was the peaceful whoosh of the surf. She took off her sandals, strolled down the beach, and tried to make sense of the exchange she’d overheard. If Xander was the powerful kahuna, the big woman the reporter had called Eleanor must be the tita taking a stand against him. But foul play? A housing development might be unpopular. It might be controversial or a blight on the landscape. But it could hardly be described as foul play, not by a policeman anyway. Claude Ann had said that the protesters’ chief complaint had to do with human bones on the site, but Dinah hadn’t seen any signs about that. Did this group of Native Hawaiians really believe that Xander’s development would desecrate the body of their goddess?

Oh, for Pete’s sake. Her imagination was running away with her. Hawaiians weren’t animists who believed that spirits exist in rocks and real estate or blamed their troubles on a disgruntled goddess. However isolated the Hawaiian archipelago, it was part of the U.S. of A. “Pele” was probably just island-speak for the green movement and the protesters invoked the goddess’ name to garner media attention for their anti-development cause and exaggerated the small earthquakes as “Pele’s Revenge.”

In front of her, silhouetted against the reddening sky, Diamond Head rose out of the sea like the fin of some gigantic fish. An article in the Hawaiian Airlines magazine said that the original Hawaiian name for the crater meant “brow of a tuna,” but British sailors seeing it from a distance thought that the crystals glistening in the lava rock were diamonds. They turned out to be common calcite, but the misnomer stuck.

After about fifty yards, a jetty of large rocks blocked her way and she turned around and ambled back toward the hotel. It appeared to be a small, boutique affair with Mediterranean style balconies overlooking the ocean. On one side of the hotel, a flock of dolphins cavorted in their private saltwater lagoon. She paused for a few minutes to watch them and pondered Claude Ann’s remark that she wouldn’t have married Hank if Dinah hadn’t made a fool of her. It didn’t jibe with her little speech about wanting to be friends again. And it didn’t jibe with the truth.

You’re being paranoid, she told herself. Claude Ann had been arguing with her mother. Mothers fought dirty. A woman arguing with her mother might say anything. Daughters, too. And given Marywave’s opposition to her mother’s remarriage, she might have embellished Claude Ann’s words to add to the stress. It was a secondhand remark passed on by an impudent squirt with an ulterior motive. There was no cause to make it into an omen.

One of the dolphins swooshed out of the water and chattered at her as if inviting her to jump in and play. She laughed. He and his pals would make a charming addition to a wedding. Why couldn’t Claude Ann and Xander have been content to say their I do’s here in Honolulu at the Olopana instead of dragging the party to the Big Island to pose beside a belching volcano? Oh, well. Maybe there weren’t as many of Pele’s rambunctious disciples on the Big Island.

When she reached the terrace, she brushed the sand off her feet and put on her sandals. Walking back through the lobby, she noticed a corridor of shops and moseyed into a few of them to browse. They carried an array of designer scarves, pricey jade and coral jewelry in a rainbow of colors, Chinese vases, Japanese netsukes, and Louis Vuitton luggage along with a few more prosaic guest needs. She bought a tube of toothpaste, a newspaper and, on impulse, a pack of cigarettes—Sincerely Yours, menthol lights. What were a few paltry carcinogens compared to the deadly gases she’d be inhaling on the rim of that volcano?

In the last shop, she found a book of Hawaiian history, legends, and myths and charged it to her room. That strange fray with the protesters suggested a more complicated Hawaii than the one depicted in the travel brochures. She had a feeling that molten lava wasn’t the only fire smoldering under the surface of Paradise.