Page 18 of Tiki Beach
I loved him, and admitting it was getting easier.
I entered our silent, darkened house in New Ohia State Park. Aunt Fae and I lived in one of the former model homes of the defunct development, trading caretaker duties for rent. Misty, Tiki’s grown kitten, asleep in her bed by the couch, lifted her head to greet me with a gentle mew as Tiki appeared silently at my feet, fixing me with her imperious, yellow-eyed stare.
Aunt Fae and Maile had already gone to bed; Auntie had left a plate of homemade cookies out for me on the counter with a drawing Maile had done of the three of us, Tiki, and Misty in front of the house.
I put the drawing on the fridge with a magnet; it was too cute.
“Yes, I know I’m late,” I told my cat, bending down to scratch behind her remaining ear. “I heard you’ve been terrorizing the household.”
Tiki blinked slowly, neither confirming nor denying the allegation. She flicked her kinked tail as she padded over to her full bowl of kibble and deigned to nibble at the offering, now that I was home.
I drank a cold glass of milk while standing at the counter, scrolling through the dozen messages from the Red Hats that had accumulated on my phone.
Edith Pepperwhite had texted three more times with increasingly CAPITALIZED demands for information.
Josie had sent a selfie from the Honolulu airport with the caption “Flying home to solve a CRIME!”
Clara, the quietest of the group, had simply written, “Thinking of Pearl. Let me know if I can help.”
Even Rita had checked in. Rita’s text included a photo of Maile playing with a litter of newly rescued kittens with the caption: “Your honorary niece has been a huge help with the new rescues. Thanks for letting her stay over. My monthly night of peace and quiet is the only thing keeping me sane with seven cats in the house and all the others in the cathouse outside! Please let me know any news about Pearl.”
I smiled at the image of Maile and the newborn kittens and saved it to my camera roll. Rita had adopted Maile last year after fostering her for months. The monthly sleepover with Maile had started as a way to give Rita—a dedicated but sometimes overwhelmed cat rescuer—a breather.
Maile’s visits filled our house with fun and laughter and had evolved into something we all looked forward to.
After responding to the Red Hats with a brief update that there was no change in Pearl’s condition, I dragged myself to bed, Tiki following to claim her designated spot by my feet.
I really did need to recharge my batteries if my first chore of my next workday was confronting Pua Chang about breaking into our office.
I didn’t sleep well and got up early, deciding to work off the angst with a swim at the beach before work. Tiki took it upon herself to accompany me; I swear that cat was more canine than feline sometimes. Auntie and Maile were still asleep when I filled a travel mug with yesterday’s microwaved coffee, donned my bikini, and stuffed a backpack with my work clothes and shoes.
Morning was a promise of rose gold on the horizon, tinting the clouds the color of angels’ wings, as Tiki and I walked down the smooth blacktop road of New Ohia State Park. We soon passed my friend Elle’s house. She was home, judging by her little car in the open garage, but the lights were still out in her home. She worked hard as an event planner for the Hotel Hana; they must have had a big shindig last night for her to sleep past her usual morning jogging time.
The beach was cool and the ocean dark blue until the first rays of daylight broke over the horizon and teased aqua and turquoise highlights out of the tiny waves lapping on the shore. A green sea turtle had pulled him/herself up onto the sand, just out of reach of the tide line. I was careful to pass it with at least ten feet to spare, the guideline for allowing these creatures their personal space.
I spread my towel on the cool sand, and Tiki promptly sat down on it. “Okay, lady. Hold down the fort while I get my laps in.” She licked her paw, giving me a side-eye.
I snapped on a pair of goggles and got a running start to dive into the ocean; early in the morning it was best to get the shock of the cold water over with quickly. Not that it was actually cold; this was Hawaii after all, and I had grown up in Maine and done the occasional Polar Bear Swim near our coastal village.
Once I was moving through the water, all the stress I’d accumulated seemed to wash away. My arms and legs churned powerfully, and I burned off the angst I’d been carrying around since Pearl collapsed.
Swimming gave me time to process my feelings.
Beyond the sense of betrayal, I was genuinely confused by Pua’s break-in. She had always been nosy, but this went beyond harmless curiosity. Could she have been involved in a plot that had culminated in Pearl’s poisoning?
There was no way to tell except to grab that bull by her perfectly manicured horns.
I arrived at the back door of the post office just as Pua was unlocking it. My co-worker started visibly at the sight of me approaching from the nearby shack, my face dead serious and my long brown hair leaving dark wet streaks on the shoulders of my navy polo shirt, attesting to a hasty no-frills shower.
“Kat! You’re early.” Her voice was a touch too bright. “I was just opening up.”
“We need to talk, Pua,” I said firmly. “Inside, please.”
Pua’s smile faltered, but she pushed the door open and led me into the darkened space inside. The familiar smell of paper, ink, and the faint mustiness of old buildings greeted us as she flipped on the fluorescent lights.
“What’s this about?” she asked, hanging her purse on a hook and shrugging out of a pastel cardigan. Today she wore a bright yellow blouse with tiny pineapples printed on it—an incongruous wardrobe choice for a criminal mastermind.
“You tell me,” I said, my voice calm but Secret Service Agent tough. “Starting with why you broke into our office yesterday.”
