Burned

His family had spent the year in Hawaii when he was sixteen. What a year. His father was stationed at Fort de Russy, right on the beach in Waikiki. He was enrolled at the local high school but spent most of his time surfing and hanging around the hotel beaches, stealing whatever he could from unsuspecting tourists.

How did the lei that I sold to a couple about to get on an airplane to the mainland end up back here with Dorinda Dawes? he wondered.

I have to see that lei again, he thought. Now that it’s back at the museum, maybe I should return to the scene of the crime. Lucky they didn’t have face recognition software thirty years ago. But I had a pair of panty hose over my head. Maybe they have panty hose recognition software. “Look for the union label,” he hummed as he turned the page of the newspaper.

I would love to hold the lei in my hands, put it around my neck again. Relive those thrilling moments when I outran the cops. Maybe I can steal it a second time. The thought was irresistible. They’re making such a big deal about auctioning off the other royal shell lei at the “Be a Princess” Ball. If this lei disappears again, it’ll really be a story!

He wondered if they had upgraded their security at the Seashell Museum. It wasn’t exactly the Louvre, but they loved their leis.

I’m aching for trouble, he realized. And I’ve been like this since I was a little kid. He remembered the time he’d volunteered to make a milk shake for his sister’s friend. He poured Ivory liquid into the blender. The shake came out so frothy that the girl took a big sip. The look on her face as she went ru

The start of my problems, he thought. From that day on he got such a thrill out of stealing and screwing things up for people. Why can’t I just laugh at stupid jokes and movies that the rest of the world thinks are hilarious? I need more than that to keep me excited. I need to always be on the move. It’s why I exercise like a maniac, he told himself as he turned the page of the newspaper.

The van stopped in front of a beautiful surfing beach. Francie tapped him on the shoulder. “Ned! Look at those waves! They’re monstrous!”

He smiled. “I told you.”

“They look so dangerous!” Francie cried. “Are you sure you want to surf there?”

Ned turned to her. “Don’t you see, Francie? That’s what makes it fun.”

23

W hen Regan got back to the hotel, she stopped in Will’s office. Janet, his sturdy-looking secretary, was on the phone. Keeper of the gate, Regan dubbed her. Janet’s glasses were resting at the tip of her nose, and she had that take-charge air of someone who had never experienced a nervous moment in their life. Nor a second of self-doubt. Regan guessed that she was probably in her fifties.

“Is Will here?” Regan asked quietly. Turned out it wasn’t necessary to be discreet.

“No. I think he’s a little stressed. He went out a little while ago,” Janet practically bellowed. “Listen, hon,” she yelled into the phone, “I’ve got to go.” She dropped the phone into the receiver, looked up at Regan, and lowered her voice. “I know Will wants you to look into things around here.”

“He told you?”

“Of course. If you can’t trust your secretary…” Her voice trailed off. Temporarily. “Between what happened to Dorinda and all the problems since the renovation, Will has a full plate, I’m telling you that. The poor guy is a wreck.” She picked a manila envelope off her desk and handed it to Regan. “In there are all the newsletters Dorinda wrote, the magazine article, and the list of problems and complaints since the renovation.”

“Thanks.”

“Excuse me, Janet,” a male’s voice said.

Regan turned. It was a guy in a bellman’s uniform. She smiled at him.

“Is Will around?” the bellman asked politely, with a big smile.

“He’ll be back in a little while,” Janet answered.

“I’ll catch him later then.” He smiled again, waved, and exited the room, reminding Regan of a guy she knew in college who never stopped smiling. You could tell him your house was burning down, but nothing could wipe the grin off his face.

Janet gestured to the departing figure. “Will is Gle

Regan’s eyebrows raised. “I guess she did.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Janet continued quickly. “I feel bad she died. She was hired when the renovation was finally finished to jazz things up around here with the newsletter. All she did was get on everyone’s nerves. But her death has certainly added spice to the Towers. Now everyone wants a ticket to the ball, and they want the lei that is being auctioned off. They also want to know what’s going to happen to the lei that Dorinda was wearing when she died. If you ask me, people have been watching too many of those crime shows on television.”

“I was just at the Seashell Museum. The owner hasn’t decided whether to auction off the second lei or not.”

“He should,” Janet declared as she fluffed her short red hair with her pencil. “Some sick person would be willing to pay a lot of money for it. At least it’s all going for a good cause.”

“He told me he’ll make the decision at the ball.”

Janet shrugged. “More drama. Who knows? Maybe his big last-minute decision will drum up more excitement that night. I’m sure the auctioneer will milk it for all it’s worth.”

Regan nodded. “He wants to see how much the other lei goes for first.”

“Naturally,” Janet replied in her deadpan voice. “It all comes down to money, doesn’t it, Regan?”

“A lot of things do,” Regan agreed. “Nobody had seen Dorinda with the shell lei before, huh?”

Janet shook her head emphatically. “Nobody. People have been stopping at my desk, which I should rename Grand Central Station, to talk to me about Dorinda. Everyone remembers the floral leis she usually wore that matched the flowers in her hair. She thought she was Carmen Miranda. If you ask me, it got to be a bit much. She was always in costume with the ‘tropical’ outfits she wore. Always had to put on a show. Sometimes I just wanted to tell her to calm down and hang loose-we’re in Hawaii, after all.”

She’s calm now, Regan thought. But I doubt poor Dorinda is resting in peace. It doesn’t seem as if there’s anybody who is too choked up about her passing. “She really hadn’t been here that long,” Regan commented.

“Long enough to make her mark. She started in the middle of October when the renovation was complete and the new Coconut Tower and Ballroom had just opened. Will thought it would be a good idea to start a newsletter for guests. Dorinda applied for the job, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“You said Dorinda got on people’s nerves. Can you give me any examples?”

“Sure. To start, I’ll tell you how she got on my nerves,” Janet pronounced. “Pull up a chair.”

“Yes, thanks,” Regan answered as she obediently grabbed one of the chairs by the door and brought it closer to Janet’s desk. She sat down and fished her notebook out of her purse.

“You going to take notes?” Janet asked.

“If you don’t mind.”

“Be my guest.”

“Thank you. So you were saying…”

“Right. Dorinda. She was a piece of work. Some of the girls who work in the clothing store out there stopped by this morning. Now don’t get me wrong. People are sorry she’s dead. But nobody’s going to miss her too much. For example, she’d breeze in here to see Will and treated me like I was the hired help. I guess I am the hired help, but what the heck was she?”