Bet Your Bones (6 page)

Chapter Seven

Dinah hastened back to the lobby. She felt as if she’d had a visitation from the Spirit of Prophecy and the portent was not good.

Bumbye. Was it a person, one of Eleanor’s children, perhaps? Or maybe it was a place or a holy shrine to Pele. After the warm beach, the air-conditioned lobby felt like a refrigerator. She stood fidgeting at the front desk while the receptionist reviewed a bill with a peevish guest. Should she ask the hotel to telephone the police? How specific did a threat have to be to involve the police? Maybe she was overreacting. She took a deep breath. Xander had scolded Claude Ann, albeit mildly, for engaging with the protesters last night and he’d told the hotel receptionist he didn’t want any publicity. The prudent thing would be to convey Eleanor’s diatribe to Xander and let him handle the situation as he deemed necessary. As for conveying Eleanor’s marital advice to Claude Ann, Dinah would sooner be shot.

The receptionist got rid of the complainer at last. “Thanks for waiting, Ms. Pelerin.”

Dinah said, “Please ring Xander Garst’s room and ask him to come to the lobby right away. It’s urgent.”

“I’m so sorry. Mr. Garst and Ms. Kemper left in a taxi a half-hour ago.”

“Do you have his cell phone number?”

“No, I don’t. Is there something wrong?”

“If he calls the hotel, would you please give him my number and ask him to call ASAP?”

“Certainly.” She jotted down the number Dinah gave her.

Dinah had another idea. “Is there a computer I can use?”

“Of course.” She led her to a room behind the reception area. “Just use your room number to log on.”

Dinah thanked her and got to work. If Google didn’t come through for her, she’d buy a Hawaiian dictionary. Aumakua, wahi pana, akahele. The ka-hooey word that young protester had flung at her had already slipped her mind. Bumbye didn’t sound Hawaiian. She didn’t think the Hawaiian alphabet had a letter b. It didn’t have an s either and the one word Eleanor had charged her with remembering was Pash.

The online Hawaiian dictionary defined aumakua as Eleanor had—a family or personal god. Aumakua could assume various shapes—a shark or an owl or a rat. Even a rock. Apparently, the aumakua appeared to mortals in dreams to offer guidance or reproach. Akahele meant take care or watch your step, which sounded slightly less threatening than “beware.” And wahi pana referred to a sacred place. Bumbye, she learned to her chagrin, was pidgin for by and by. Xander would know what he had to answer for by and by. The only entries brought up by “Pash” were for an indie band whose best known song was “Kill the Rich Boys,” the Petroleum Accountants Society of Houston, and Australian slang for tongue kissing.

“Beg pardon. Oh, hello! Are you Dinah?”

She turned and saw a silver-haired man of about sixty with a florid complexion, kinetic blue eyes, and a somewhat manic demeanor. He wore a Hawaiian shirt with coral colored flamingos. The tanned legs poking out below his golfing shorts bowed like the staves of a barrel.

“Yes, I’m Dinah.”

“Claude Ann’s friend. Excellent, excellent, excellent. Avery Wilhite, at your service. Xander’s business partner.” He handed her a card. “Heard at the desk you were asking for him. Some kind of trouble. Bride hasn’t got cold feet, has she?”

“Not to my knowledge.” He was so blithery she had to smile. “It’s nothing to do with the wedding.”

“Didn’t think so. Just joking. The protesters haven’t made any more fuss, have they? Pesky lot. Saw a clip of them on TV this morning. Feel bad for Xan and Claude Ann. Her, especially. Dirty pool to hassle a bride at a time like this.”

She read the card. SAX Associates. “Are you Xander’s partner in the Uwahi project?”

“Partner and primary investor. I’m the A in SAX.”

Dinah was eager to unload her worries about Eleanor onto someone else and she could see no reason why Xander would object to her relaying Eleanor’s message to his partner and primary investor. She said, “Actually, one of the protesters accosted me while I was having breakfast on the terrace.”

“Botheration. Well, no sense burdening Xander. Enough on his plate, poor boy. Let’s go to the hotel conference room and you can give me the lowdown. Maybe I can get them off his back.”

He shepherded her through the lobby and down a short corridor she hadn’t noticed before. He threw open the double doors on the left and blundered into a poker game in progress. “Oh! Wrong room. I do beg pardon.”

Raif tongued a swizzle stick from one side of his mouth to the other. “Pull up a chair, Avery. You, too, Dinah. The more the merrier and the richer the pot.”

“Raif Reid? Is that you?” Wilhite seemed discomfited out of all proportion.

“None other.”

“Raif. Well, well. Raif. Good to see you. Been a while. Lyssa good?”

“She’s good,” said Raif with what seemed to be his signature semi-sneer. He sat slouched in front of a tall stack of blue chips and a Starbucks’ Vente.

“Well, good for Lyssa,” said Wilhite. “Excellent.”

The two men Raif was playing with were older-middle-aged. One had a heavy five-o’clock shadow, dark circles under his eyes, and a beer gut. One of his hands fondled a short stack of red chips and he didn’t appear to appreciate the intrusion. The other player, a fleshy-faced man with a deeply furrowed brow, didn’t either.

“Afraid we can’t stay and play,” said Wilhite, backing out the door. “See you and Lyssa at the shindig tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” said Raif.

“Excellent.” Wilhite closed the door and tried the one across the hall. “Here we go. This has to be it.” He opened the door and gestured Dinah inside.

The last people to meet in this room must have been Eskimos. The air conditioning had been ramped up to near-freezing. Wilhite pulled out a chair for her at the end of a long, teakwood table and sat down next to her. “Astonishing, eh? Never would’ve imagined it.”

“Raif’s gambling?”

“No, no. Boy’s a pistol. More moxie than’s good for him. Drives Xan up the wall, but that’s youth for you. No, I meant Xan getting married. I’ve known him for thirty-five years and, after being a widower and blade about town, it’s hard to believe he’s making it legal again. Not that Claude Ann isn’t the cream. Beautiful girl. Young for him, but then I wouldn’t have expected Xander to be dazzled by a woman his own age. Not that older women can’t be alluring, you understand. What do they call themselves now? Cougars? But I’ve never seen Xan with a cougar. Always has a young one on his arm.”

Dinah felt as if she’d hit the gossip motherlode. Given the opportunity, her news about Eleanor could wait a few minutes. “Where did you and Xander meet?”

“Oh, at the University. We were on the tennis team. Both of us from back East, both married local girls and decided to stay. We’ve played a lot of tennis over the years.”

“You must have known Xander’s first wife. What was she like?”

“Oh, my God. Spectacular woman. Knew it, of course, but that’s neither here nor there. Never met a man who didn’t fall head over heels for sweet Leilani, myself, included. When Xan married her, his ego shot into the stratosphere and the rest of us island swains moped about like lovesick adolescents.” He slapped his knobby knees and chuckled. “Louis Sykes was another one. Besotted. Married, though, like me. Nothing to do but admire from afar. Like her, Louis died young. Tragic. His son Steve’s the S in SAX Associates. He’s our legal eagle.”

Dinah said, “Leilani’s suicide must have come as an awful blow to Xander. Had she been ill or depressed?”

“Closed subject. Never talks about it. Too painful. Some of us speculated she might have been despondent because Xander didn’t move the family to the mainland. That’s what she wanted. Always preferred the company of haoles, didn’t want anything to do with her own people. Of course, it was her Hawaiianness that Xan and the rest of us found so exotic and alluring. My wife was never jealous. Not a jealous bone in her body, my Kay. Saw Lani as a marvel of nature, like the o’o bird. Kay, I said, you were damn near clairvoyant when you said that thing about the o’o, being as how the species died out. Hunted to extinction for their yellow feathers to make the kings’ capes, the o’o was. No, the brightest and prettiest aren’t always the luckiest. Sad, but that’s life.” He paused for breath. “Now then, tell me what this Pele crowd was on about this morning.”

Dinah recapped her conversation with Eleanor. “She seems to have a personal grudge against Xander. I think she wants to rally public opinion against the Uwahi deal to spite him.”

“Relatives. What’s a man to do?”

“Eleanor’s a relative?”

“Leilani’s sister.”

“She’s what?”

“Nothing like her, of course. Night and day. Sisters, wives, daughters, sons-in-law, nephews. Like herding cats. Can’t keep ’em in line. Now what was Eleanor squawking about?”

Avery’s earful left Dinah feeling slightly punch-drunk. “She thinks Uwahi is a sacred place. She emphasized the word ‘Pash’ and said Xander would know what it means.”

“Pash?” His eyes flicked rapidly back and forth, as if his brain were scrolling through a list of possible meanings and permutations. “No. Can’t say. It’s gibberish to me. Probably some endangered weed she thinks she’s found. A lot of to-dos over nothing here in the islands.”

“I thought it was human bones that she’d found.”

“Bones? No, no, no. The archaeologist Xander hired gave us a clean bill of health. Not a problem if a stray bone turns up sometime down the line, of course. Minors, as the kids say. Bones everywhere on the island. Up to the Hawaii Burial Council how and where to move them.”

Dinah hugged her arms and tried to rub away the chill. Eleanor was Xander’s sister-in-law and Claude Ann didn’t know. How could he not have told her? “You don’t think Eleanor poses a threat to Xander or Claude Ann? Or to your real estate deal?”

“Great Scott, no. Birds, plants, degradation of the Hawaiian language. Eleanor’s always fussing about something, always an ax to grind.” He took his BlackBerry out of his shirt pocket and checked his schedule. “Don’t you worry, Dinah. I’ll run the incident by Xander. We’re meeting at noon with our buyer’s attorneys to finalize the details. We’re in the home stretch now, on cruise control.” He stood up to leave. “Can I give you a lift downtown?”

“No, thanks. I’ll stick around the hotel until the time I have to meet Claude Ann.”

“See you at tonight’s party then,” he said, and left her shivering in the cold.

Chapter Eight

Dinah stepped into the elevator and sagged against the mirrored wall. Was Eleanor merely a crank? A belligerent ex-sister-in-law with a grab bag full of resentments and a yen to see herself on TV? Avery Wilhite hadn’t seemed much ruffled by Eleanor’s agitating, but Xander was. Of course, she wasn’t just badmouthing his opportunity-of-a-lifetime land deal. She was heckling his bride and interfering with his wedding festivities. But why in blazes had he not told Claude Ann about his relationship to Eleanor? It seemed a curiously significant omission in his communications with his wife-to-be. Evidently, it was an open secret. That’s what the TV reporter and the cops had been talking about.

To tell or not to tell. Dinah weighed the pros and cons of meddling. Why did she always find herself in the same predicament?

The elevator hadn’t moved. Had she punched the button? Absent-mindedly, she punched again.

“Yikes!” A svelte brunette in a fire-engine red Bolero jacket and matching stilletos squeaked inside just as the doors closed. She wore her hair in a kicky, inverted bob and her fire-engine red lips in a pert smile. The air effloresced with peaches and tuberose. Joy, guessed Dinah. Too much Joy.

“Dinah Pelerin. You haven’t changed a lick.”

“Phoebe Marshall.”

“I bet you wouldn’t have known me if Claude Ann hadn’t told you I was coming.” She gave Dinah a big hug.

That was an understatement. Dinah tried to reconcile this glamorous number with the shy, slope-shouldered girl who caught the bouquet at Claude Ann’s last wedding. Hadn’t she had a bigger nose back then? And maybe a mole on her cheek? She said, “You’ve done something different with your hair.”

Phoebe cackled. “Anybody would know you’re from the South.” Her voice was as shrill as a katydid’s.

Dinah smiled. Some things weren’t yet subject to a makeover. “Did you fly in from Atlanta?”

“No, I’ve been in L.A. attending a seminar.”

The elevator dinged and glided upward. Phoebe wagged her key card and linked her arm in Dinah’s. “Let’s go to my room and catch up.”

When the doors opened on the third floor, Phoebe swished down the hall, pulling Dinah along with her. Her room was only a few doors from Dinah’s. She inserted her key card in the lock, waited for the green light, and swept into the room with her arms wide. “This is even more deluxe than I expected.”

Dinah sat on the love seat at the foot of the bed. “Have you spoken to Claude Ann yet?”

“I phoned her from the airport, but I won’t see her until tonight. I have another seminar here in Honolulu.” Phoebe sailed around the room, inspecting the furnishings and the art. She slid open the glass door onto the lanai. “I was planning to be in Honolulu anyway on business, but I’d have stayed in a cheaper hotel. I looked up the Olopana’s room rates on the ‘Net. Seaside rooms like this go for nine-fifty. Is your room this luxurious?”

“Same view. Very ritzy. Xander seems to have spared no expense.”

“You think Xander’s paying?”

“Isn’t he?”

Phoebe alighted in one of the cushioned rattan chairs across from the love seat and kicked off her stilettos. “I don’t know. Claude Ann didn’t come right out and say, but I got the impression she was footing the bill for the wedding. It just goes to show, huh?”

Dinah wasn’t sure what it showed. “I assumed Xander was filthy rich. He buys and sells real estate, he has a supposedly to-die-for house on Hawaii, and the diamond he gave Claudy must’ve cost a small fortune.” She hesitated. She was no gemologist. She could be all wet, like those British sailors who thought Diamond Head was chockfull of diamonds. “Xander is rich, isn’t he?”

“I think so. He’s just temporarily a little strapped for cash. Would you like a Coke or something?”

“No thanks.” It stung that Claude Ann had confided Xander’s cash problems to Phoebe and not to her. She didn’t like to tap into the money her Uncle Cleon had left her, but she couldn’t let Claude Ann pay her airfare and hotel bill. It was too much. “What did Claude Ann tell you about Xander’s finances?”

“Promise you won’t tell her I said?”

“I promise.”

“Because she thinks you’d jump to the conclusion that he’s after her for her money or something.”

That stung, too, in spite of its being true. She said, “Anyone can have a cash flow problem.”

“Exactly. But she thought you might get suspicious what with all the baggage you cart around on account of your father. All I know is, Claude Ann didn’t want to skimp on the wedding and she didn’t want to put Xander in a bind. She’s lent him some money to tide him over until some big deal or other closes.”

“How much money?”

“She didn’t say, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was six figures. Claude Ann’s loaded these days.” Phoebe grubbed about in her briefcase for a minute and pulled out a handful of photos. “For laughs, I brought some snapshots I took at Claude Ann’s first wedding.” She handed one to Dinah. “Claude Ann looked a little flustered, don’t you think?”

“Flustered” was a euphemism. She looked like a fever victim in the thrall of some bewildering dream. Dinah handed the picture back. “How much money did she get in the divorce?”

“I don’t know the exact amount, but it was substantial. I mean, it’s not like Hank’s going to the poorhouse. He’s still one of the richest dairy farmers in the Southeast. He received a write-up in Kavenger’s Wealth Reporter a year ago. Did Claudy send you a copy?”

“No. It seems she’s kept me in the dark about a lot of things.”

Phoebe’s eyes lingered on the photo. “Hank looked so lean and stern and manly. I had the biggest crush on him back then, but of course he adored Claude Ann. Still, you could’ve knocked me over with a feather when she popped up and married him. I always thought she was gone on Wesley Spencer. Remember the sexy way Wes used to flip his hair out of those big, soulful eyes of his? What do you suppose ever happened to Wes?”

Belatedly, Dinah did remember and the recollection hit her like a stone. Why hadn’t she seen the resemblance at once? But for a few gray hairs and laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, Xander was the spitting image of Wesley, right down to the rebellious forelock. “I haven’t the foggiest where Wes got to. But tell me about yourself, Phoebe. What kind of seminar brought you to Hawaii?”

“Transformational self-mastery and visioneering. Did Claude Ann tell you that I’m a life coach now? You know what a timid little mouse I was back in high school and college. I worked for the Atlanta Constitution for a while, but all I ever did was file and run errands. Then three years ago, I attended a life training seminar and it turned me completely around. I learned I had to give myself permission to evolve. To envision my butterfly self and begin the journey of emergence to become that butterfly.”

Dinah held her breath for the laugh line, but Phoebe looked wide-eyed and sincere as a guppy. “Well, you certainly seem transformed now.”

“I outgrew that stutter after I got away from my neurotic mother, but I still had a terrible feeling of inferiority. Remember my impetigo?”

It was never a good idea to remember an unsightly skin rash. Dinah said, “None of us was at our best back then.”

“Except for Claude Ann. She was so gorgeous and self-confidant and she was always trying to boost my confidence. I never understood why she went into such a funk. During the bad times with Hank, I kept reminding her she had to give herself permission to be happy and now look how beautifully everything’s turned out for her. When she called to tell me about Xan, she sounded positively delirious.”

Dinah smiled, but doubts nibbled away at her. She so wanted Claude Ann to be happy, wanted Xander to be a paragon of virtue and a prince of a man. She gave herself full permission to believe in Xander’s trustworthiness, but the warning signs kept piling up. Was he truly in love with Claude Ann or was he just a calculating Hawaiian snowman intent on scamming her out of her money?

“Have you met him yet?”

“Yes, at dinner last night.”

“And? What did you think? Is he a ten?”

“He seems plausible enough.”

“Plausible?” Phoebe pulled a face. “You see? That’s why Claude Ann doesn’t tell you stuff. You’re hopeless. Claude Ann’s not afraid to take a chance on love again and you of all people should be ecstatic for her.”

“I am ecstatic for her. Cautiously ecstatic.”

“There’s no such thing. And for your information, I’m not afraid to take a chance, either.” She took a momentous breath. “I’ve given myself permission to begin a relationship with Hank.”

“A romantic relationship?”

“I’ve been secretly in love with him ever since he took me to the senior prom. It didn’t pan out between us then, but we’ve all evolved and, like they say, first love runs deepest.”

It ran contrary to all reason in Dinah’s estimation. If she remembered correctly, Hank asked Phoebe to the prom only because Claude Ann promised to dance with him if he did. “Have you and Hank been going out?”

“A few times. I’ve been his sounding board these last few weeks. He’s still boiling mad at Claude Ann and her divorce lawyer. It’ll take time for him to simmer down and realize that I’m the right woman for him. But he will. I’m a very spiritual person. I don’t come at God the same way Hank does, but I understand his spiritual quest better than Claude Ann did. She should be happy for us both. I don’t think she ever really loved Hank, but she’s fond of him.”

“Have you told her your plan?”

“No. And don’t you tell her, Dinah Pelerin. Not yet. I’ll tell her, myself, but not ’til after she comes back from the honeymoon.”

“Do you know that Hank’s been writing Claude Ann crackpot letters and filling Marywave’s head with a lot of claptrap about it being a sin for Claude Ann to remarry?”

“He’s just venting. He wants what’s best for Marywave just like Claude Ann does. He needs to focus on a new life goal is all. Clear life goals and a positive outlook, that’s what visioneering’s all about.”

Dinah’s less than positive outlook veered toward the decidedly pissed-off. Why did so many hot potatoes have to land in her lap? Now she had another one to toss or not to toss and this one was sure to turn Claude Ann’s honeymoon into a crowd. If there was even a ghost of a chance that Phoebe might invite Hank to Hawaii for some clandestine quality time with Marywave, Claude Ann would have a conniption.

Phoebe’s eyebrows rushed together. “I can see it in your face. You’re going to tell her, aren’t you?”

“No, you are. There are too many secrets swirling around this wedding already. I have to go try on my dress and you have to go to your seminar. But If Claude Ann doesn’t know about you and Hank by tomorrow night, I’ll blow the whistle.”