Burned

“I won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” Gus practically ordered in his booming voice. He took out his handkerchief and heartily blew his nose. “I get so stuffed up on planes,” he commented. He waved his handkerchief around and then crammed it back in his pocket.

He must have driven Dorinda nuts, Regan mused. She turned and picked up the photo once again and looked at Steve and Dorinda. He obviously knew Dorinda but hadn’t said much about her. Regan sat down and sorted through the papers that were all over the desktop. There were scribblings on various sheets of paper. Notes to do errands and take pictures. She pulled open the top drawer where she expected to find a jumble of pens and paper clips. Instead there was a lone tan file marked PROSPECTIVE DIRT. Regan’s heart skipped a beat. She opened it. The first thing she saw was a last will and testament of someone named Sal Hawkins.

Who’s that? Regan wondered as she started to read.

“I, Sal Hawkins, being of sound mind and body, do hereby leave all my earthly possessions, including cash and the proceeds from the sale of my house, to the Praise the Rain Club for future trips to Hawaii.”

That’s the group at the hotel, Regan realized as she read on. He’d left two sisters in charge of the money with instructions to lead five others to Hawaii every three months. Sal Hawkins had left an estate valued at $10 million. That should cover a lot of trips to Hawaii, Regan imagined. She looked at the date of the will. It was only four years ago. If he died soon after, there should be money for trips for years to come. But Will had been talking about how cheap the tour organizers were.

Regan found a blank piece of paper and took a few notes. She looked through the rest of the file and almost missed another picture of Steve, this time by himself. She turned the photo over. The caption read, “Retired from WHAT?” Oh, boy, she thought. What’s this all about? He was standing in a bar smiling at the camera. Regan wasn’t sure whether it was a bar at the Waikiki Waters or not. So what’s the prospective dirt on him? A newspaper clipping about Claude Mott Enterprises was also in the file. It was one paragraph long and said that he was attempting to launch a line of leisure clothing. Stapled to the back of the article was a picture of Jazzy.

Well, Regan thought, she really seems to have zoned in on that group. But why? Did Steve spurn her advances? Regan could certainly understand why Dorinda and Jazzy wouldn’t have gotten along; they were too much alike. And what about this tour group?

“How are you doing, Regan? Did you find anything interesting about my cousin?” Gus reentered the room. He was drying his face with a hand towel. “It feels so good to freshen up. I can’t wait to get a swim tomorrow. Now that will really feel good.”

“There are a few things here, Gus. Do you mind if I take this file with me?”

“Go ahead. It looks like it’s going to be some job sorting through Dorinda’s things. I’ll probably give most of it away to whatever Hawaii’s version of Goodwill is.”

“I know you want to rest, so I’ll get out of your way. If you don’t mind, I might give you a call tomorrow.”

“I’d be delighted. And I’ll see you at the ball tomorrow night, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“Marvelous. Shall I call you a cab?”

“I’ll head out and start walking. I could use the exercise. I’m sure I’ll be able to hail one on the street.”

“Be careful out there, Regan. This doesn’t appear to be the best part of town.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Two minutes later Regan was out on the street. She walked toward the beach and decided to take the route to the Waikiki Waters that she had been told Dorinda had taken many times. The route Dorinda was supposedly taking a couple of nights ago, the night she didn’t make it home.

As Regan walked, she wondered at what point Dorinda had steered from this path. When Regan approached the jetty, she stared out at the rocks. A couple, hand in hand, emerged from the base down at the very end, out by the water. They started walking slowly back toward the beach. Oh, Dorinda, Regan thought. Was this where you met your fate? Regan shrugged. I’m afraid it’s something we might never know.

41

“I just got out of a relationship,” Francie declared to Artie as the two of them meandered along the beach. “He always had me on the back burner. I don’t think of myself as back burner material, you know?”

“Sure,” Artie answered absentmindedly. He was thinking about the way Ned had run out of the room today. All of a sudden Ned seemed to have something important on his mind, and it was obviously distracting him.

“I’d really like to meet a guy,” Francie admitted. “And I’m sick of being hit on by men who just want a little fun on the side. If you can believe it, that Bob tried to put the moves on me the other night. Can you stand it? His wife had gone to bed, and he’s writing the chapter in the book about how to keep a relationship exciting. If his wife catches him, it will really be exciting. She’ll throw a vase at his head.”

“He made a pass at you?” Artie asked.

“I’d have to say yes. He said that his wife was really boring and wished he could have a little extra fun in Hawaii.”

“What did you say?”

“Dorinda Dawes came up behind us and snapped our picture. Bob got upset. End of conversation.”

“And now she’s dead.”

Francie stopped in her tracks and grabbed Artie’s arm. “Do you think there’s a co

Artie shrugged. “You never know.”

“The Mixed Bag Tour group would never be the same.”

“Who cares?” Artie answered as he picked up a stone and threw it into the water. “Gert and Ev are nothing but two big cheapskates. It’s hardly fun. Can you believe that I have to share a room with Ned?”

“He seems nice,” Francie said coyly.

“You like him, don’t you?”

“Well, at least he’s the right age. But it doesn’t matter. We’re leaving in a couple of days anyway.”

Joy was approaching them from the opposite direction. She was jogging.

“Here she comes,” Artie grunted. “Little miss lifeguard chaser.”

“She’s just a kid,” Francie said. “I wish I were her age again. Sometimes.”

Huffing and puffing, Joy ran toward them. She finally stopped a few feet from them and struggled to catch her breath. “Gert and Ev called my cell phone,” she said. “They’re not going to make it back for cocktails or di

“They’re not? How many hotels could they be looking at?” Francie asked.

“I don’t know. They never let me ask questions.” Joy wiped her brow with her hand. “They said the five of us should go to di

“Let’s all order caviar and champagne,” Artie suggested, “and then move on to prime rib and lobster.”

“Did you tell Bob and Betsy?” Francie asked.

“I called their room, but there’s no answer. I left them a message.”

“It’s so unlike Gert and Ev not to be here breathing down our necks and watching everything we order,” Artie commented. “Something’s up with them.”

“Let’s make the most of it,” Francie cried gleefully. “We’ll eat, drink, and spend money.”

“When are our fearless leaders going to be back?” Artie asked.

“Later tonight. They plan to be on the morning beach walk tomorrow.”

“You know, it seems that everyone is going to the ball except us,” Francie noted. “I think we should order tickets for the group and charge them to their room, too.”

“They’re sold out,” Joy declared. “I don’t want to go anyway.”

“Well, I do,” Francie said. “They’re going to have hula dancers, two bands, di

“If I don’t have to pay for it, I’ll go.”