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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Lives and fortunes
>> Kona
Following the bellman to his room at the King Kamehameha, Cruz MacKenzie knew he was moving in the wrong direction. Sonya was the story now. At least, she had the story.
She knew Daren Guy as well as anyone. But because of the past, having to face again the truth that Sonya had left him for another man and now loved yet another man more, even in death, he'd fled the scene of the story without the full story.
The bellman opened the door of the room, set Cruz's bag on a bench, showed him the ocean view and probably would have talked forever about the joys of the Big Island in general and the King Kamehameha in particular if Cruz hadn't deliberately counted and handed him three one-dollar bills and asked: "What time do you have?"
"Ten-thirty," he said, took the hint and departed, presumably for a Toastmasters meeting.
Shave and shower were safely accomplished by 11 a.m., and Cruz had six hours to file a column. Sonya said he knew how to reach her. But he didn't have a phone number. He had to find Mano Kekai, or somebody who could ferry him out again.
>> Off Kona
Daren watched Sonya kill the motor, the dinghy slide softly against the hull of the Moku Aina, then lightly leap to the bigger boat with a line in one hand and tie the two craft together. Distanced and detached as he now was, he had to admit that she'd gotten good on the water since they met. He'd been a good teacher.
His plan was to watch the rest of the morning news on TV, then visit Sonya. He could hardly wait to see the look on her face. But the news still had 10 minutes to go when he heard the dinghy engine fire to life again.
Through a porthole, he saw Sonya at the tiller, dressed this time in a black suit. He would have to kill some time. He could go swimming.
But there had been a fatal shark attack right here recently. That's what they said on the news. Daren couldn't help smiling. He knew better. Well, at least he wouldn't have to put on that ridiculous white wig -- one of a dozen he'd found aboard the famous publisher's boat -- at least not right away. He poured another cup of coffee, reconsidered his plan. It was possible that Sonya might be of more value alive than dead, for a while.
The radio beeped, he heard the familiar Asian-accented voice. "Sushi calling Pet Shop. Where are you? We were supposed to rendezvous today."
"Eh, Sushi, sorry, brah, but you have to give me one more day."
"You must. Lives and fortunes are at stake here!"
"You got that right."
See the Columnists section for some past articles.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com