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“I saw her around a little bit. But you know I only work when the young folks call in sick. Whenever the surf’s up, you can be sure that they all suddenly come down with bad colds. Then they run off to the ocean with their surfboards. That’s why they’re in Hawaii. So the management has us older, more reliable types on call.” She raised her eyebrows. “It gets me out of the house. I must say I like it because I can say no if I feel like it. And sometimes that’s just what I do. I tell them, ‘No way, José.’ ”

“It’s good to be in that position,” Regan noted as she glanced back at the newspaper. “I hear the real mystery is where she got that historic lei.”

“I know it!” The waitress’s eyes snapped. She dropped her voice. “The word is that she was ru

“Had she been drinking?” Regan asked.

“How do I know? I wasn’t here. But I’ve seen her in action with a wineglass in one hand and the camera in the other. My friend Tess works here, too, and we were talking about this on the phone last night. Dorinda was always in the middle of every cocktail party they held here. Taking pictures, asking questions. Enough already!” Wi

Oh, yes, Regan thought. She’s still alive, and her name is Jazzy.

14

A t 9:01 A.M. Regan was seated in the chair in front of Will’s desk. He looked a little weary, she thought. This guy has a lot on his mind. His bright blue and white Hawaiian shirt did not offset the gray pallor of his face.

“Sleep well?” he asked her.

“For several hours. But then I woke early. How about you?”

“Okay. But I’m used to having my wife and son around. I’ll be glad when they get back tonight. I’ll also be glad when this Princess ball is over and done with.”

Regan nodded and pulled the newspaper out of her bag. “Did you see this?” She indicated the front-page article on Dorinda Dawes.

“I read it at six-thirty this morning.”

“I was interested to read that Dorinda Dawes was writing a series of articles about life in Hawaii for a new travel magazine. She was profiling people who had come to Hawaii to start a second career.”

“In the few months she was here she managed to get into a lot of things. She was like dandruff. All over the place. At first I didn’t mind. What we paid her to do the newsletter wasn’t enough to live on. But she also had plans to start her own gossip sheet about goings-on in Waikiki and Honolulu. She told me she really wanted to uncover big stories. That made me nervous. I insisted that she keep the newsletter friendly. It wasn’t easy. Let’s just say it wasn’t in her nature to be nice. But who wants to come to a hotel where they might write snippy things about you? The first newsletter she wrote was all about the celebrities who stay here, but I wouldn’t print it.”

“I heard about that.”

“You did?”

“Yes. From a girl named Jazzy.”

Will rolled his eyes. “More dandruff. She’s trying to get into everything. She’s organizing the gift bags for the ball.”

“She told me that, too. You don’t like her?”



“Jazzy is out for Jazzy. She’s also out for her boss. He’s actually helping to underwrite the ball because he’s trying to kick off a line of Hawaiian-style clothing. He’s donating his Hawaiian shirts and muumuus for the gift bag.”

“She didn’t mention that. Have you seen the clothes?”

“No. But I understand there are sketches of shell leis on them. It goes along with the princess theme.”

“I take it this is an important ball for the hotel.”

Will nodded. “It’s our first big event since the renovation. And it’s a very important ball for the organizations that will benefit from this fund-raiser.”

“What organizations?” Regan asked.

“The Seashell Museum and a group called Aloha Artists. Basically it’s a bunch of people who got together and built a studio for young artists and sculptors and craftsmen who produce native Hawaiian art. They can go to the studio to work and just be with one another. They sometimes have guest artists, and they’re trying to organize more formal classes. That’s why the auction of the royal lei is such a big thing. It shows how important native art is and how good art can be passed down for generations. Now that Liliuokalani’s lei has been found, the board of Aloha Artists is in a frenzy. They want to auction off both leis, although they’re trying to be tasteful about it. After all, one of them was found on a dead woman. And of course they have to convince the owner of the Seashell Museum to hand the lei over for the auction.”

Regan raised her eyebrows. “I thought I’d go over to the Seashell Museum this morning and see if I can talk to someone about when the lei was stolen. Maybe it’ll lead to something. I can’t help but think that lei has something to do with Dorinda’s death. If I can find out where she got the lei, it may provide some clues as to how and why she died.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Will agreed, his voice barely audible.

“In the meantime could you gather together all the newsletters that Dorinda Dawes wrote? I’d love to take a look at them.” Regan looked down at the newspaper. “I’d also like copies of the travel magazine. It says here it’s called Spirits in Paradise.” Regan looked back up at Will. “Do you know whom she interviewed for the pieces she did?”

Will shrugged. “It’s a monthly magazine. She had only one article published so far, in this month’s issue. She was working on another. I think she mentioned something about maybe going over to the Big Island for an interview. I must admit I never read the magazine. Dorinda talked so much, it went in one ear and out the other. But I’ll get the article for you. We have the magazine for our guests in the spas and beauty salons.”

“Thanks. I was wondering, did Dorinda have a locker here?”

“No. Only the employees who wear uniforms have lockers.”

“What time did you last see Dorinda on Wednesday night?

“It was about eleven-thirty. We both worked late. She had been taking pictures at a couple of events at the hotel and as usual went into the bars and restaurants to see who might want their picture taken. She poked her head in my office door and said good-bye. Her camera was still in her hand, and I think she had a bag over her shoulder.”

“And she wasn’t wearing the lei.”

“No, she wasn’t.”

“And her purse hasn’t been recovered.”

“No.”

Regan pushed her chair back and stood. “I’ll take a cab to the museum. I assume you’ll be here when I get back.”

Will looked at her with wide, concerned eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”