Page 33 of Pau Hana: Cat cozy Humor Mystery (Paradise Crime Cozy Mystery Book 5)

At eleven-thirty a.m.,the power came back on.

“Finally,” said Pua, gazing out the kitchen window. “I’m going to drive over and check on Opal and Artie. I’ll leave my car at the post office for the weekend. I’ve found a ride home.”

She told us that she’d been contacted by a fearless neighbor who drove a jacked up four-wheel drive vehicle with enormous nubby tires. He’d offered to come pick her up at the post office; he was sure his vehicle could make it across the swift creek that now ran across the back road.

“I have the rest of the weekend to figure out how to return to work on Monday,” she said. “I can’t leave poor Sassy alone that long if I can possibly help it.”

“But you’ll miss Edith and Josie’s wedding,” I said.

“I may, but that’s a chance I’ll have to take. Sassy’s probably going wild thinking I’ve abandoned her. I’ve got to get back. If I don’t make it, I’m sure the ladies will understand.”

She said her goodbyes, and soon Auntie and I were lunching on Pua’s leftover soup seated at the breakfast bar. “Tiki was acting strange this morning,” Aunt Fae said.

Like that was something out of the ordinary. “She was okay when I was up in my office taking Lei’s phone call. She and Misty were napping in their bed. What was she doing?”

“Growling and pacing and just all-around acting upset. This was before you got home. Earlier.”

“Did she want to go outside?” After the incident with the open window, I’d added a slide-in pet door to the patio slider, so Tiki and Misty could come and go easily. Tiki hadn’t taken to the idea of muscling her way through the rubber flap. I’d only seen her use it once, and the expression on her face had ‘not acceptable’ written all over it.

“I don’t think so. Maybe I’m reading too much into it.” Aunt Fae rolled her narrow shoulders back deliberately. “The wedding rehearsal’s in three hours at the Hotel Hana. You think everyone’s going to be able to make it?”

“The power’s back on and the road workers have been clearing the highway for the past day. Anything’s possible.”

We ate in silence for a few moments. Finally Aunt Fae said, “Okay. What’s going on that you don’t want to tell me?”

I set my spoon into my empty bowl and pushed it aside. “Oh, Auntie. There is something going on, but I can’t tell you about it yet. It’s an active police investigation.” I swiveled the kitchen counter barstool to face her. “It’s another strange crime that I seem to be in the middle of. Since I got to Ohia, it’s like I’m attracting crime and disaster.”

“Stop it. That’s no way to talk. You are a caring, inquisitive, can-do sort of person. It’s natural that you want to find answers—but that doesn’t mean you caused the issues in the first place.”

“Maybe.” But it seemed more like I was a fulcrum, a tipping point that had resulted in two violent crimes: first the explosion, now some sort of trigger for what happened to Barbara Long. Not an easy thing to shrug off, especially for a former Secret Service agent who’d valued the agency’s motto: Worthy of trust and confidence. “I hope you’re right, Auntie.”

Keone called as I was loading the dishwasher. He said he’d made it to Hana, but now he’d had to pick up an extra flight. He wouldn’t be able to make it to the rehearsal dinner, after all.

The nagging feeling that he was avoiding me persisted. “See you at the wedding tomorrow?” I asked.

“I’ll do my best.”

“You better not miss it. I’m going to need some encouragement, because the dress that Edith and Josie picked for me to wear is . . . well, let’s say it’s challenging.”

“Give me a hint.”

“I guess the operative word is ‘skimpy.’” I grimaced. I’d only had time to peek at the gown Elle had picked up for me, but that glimpse was enough to be worrisome.

“Then for sure I won’t miss it. See you there.” He ended the call.

I went upstairs to take a closer inspection of what I’d been charged to wear in the wedding. The gown was made from a gorgeous silk fabric in an amethyst purple that accented my blue eyes. It was expertly stitched, and the drape of the fabric was excellent. The problem was, there simply wasn’t enough of it.

I’m over six feet tall, which both Edith and Josie are well-aware of, but as I held the dress against myself, as I’d suspected, it ended only a couple of inches below what Aunt Fae referred to as my “hoo-ha.” No way could I bend down or climb stairs without some “I see London, I see France” underpants action going on.

I tried the dress on next, tugging the back zipper up with a little ribbon attached for that purpose.

The top was fine, a scoop neck with little cap sleeves. The waist was tight enough that it held my ribs in without need of further support. I slid my feet into the faithful black pumps that had seen me through many a state dinner, then walked over to the mirror on the back of the bedroom door. I sucked in a breath. “Dang, this dress is short!”

Keone was definitely going to approve—I was showing about a mile of leg. But was it appropriate for the wedding of a couple of old ladies? “Not hardly. What were they thinking?”

I rifled through my garments and found a cute pair of black satin ‘boy shorts’ underwear that provided enough coverage and didn’t ruin the dress’s (tight) rear view. I swiveled to and fro—yep, I needed to be careful with any bending.

Edith had overstepped by not including the bridesmaids in the dress decision, let alone failing to ask me directly to fulfill the role. But was it worth it to call her and complain so close to the event? No. The whole thing would be over by Monday, and hopefully I’d make it through without a wardrobe malfunction.

* * *

By afternoon,the skies were gray, but the rain had finally stopped. I trotted down to Opal and Artie’s to see if they needed a ride to the rehearsal later.

Artie was in his usual spot on the front porch, picking out a tune on his guitar.

“Kitty Kat,” he sang out as I approached.

“You ready for the rehearsal tonight?” I said. Opal wasn’t actually in the wedding party, but the brides had asked Artie to play a couple of tunes during the ceremony, so she’d be bringing him to the run-through practice we were doing before the dinner.

“I’m playing both in the wedding ceremony and for a while at the reception,” he said. “I had to strong-arm those women into accepting my playlist. Josie wasn’t a problem, but Edith wanted some strange tunes.”

“Strange, how?”

“You ready for this?” he said. “‘Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover,’ by Paul Simon. Or how about, ‘You Give Love a Bad Name,’ by Bon Jovi? I told Edith, those might be favorites of yours from back in the day, but this is your wedding.”

“Good of you to stand your ground. I’ve got my own strange situation.” I told him about the silk micromini dress as Opal came outside to join us.

She handed me a frosty root beer from the cold case. “On the house. What’s this about a dress?”

I repeated that my bridesmaid dress was too short.

“I’m sure they didn’t mean for it to be too skimpy in a bad way,” she said. “Those ladies think you’re beautiful and they want you to enjoy it. From what I hear, Josie was quite the wahine surfer back in her day. Maybe they’re encouraging you to ‘flaunt it while you got it.’ Too bad it goes so quickly.”

Artie took Opal by the hand. “You’re all the wahine this old man will ever want, my ku’uipo.”

“I love the sound of that word,” I said. “What does it mean?”

“Sometimes we shorten it to ipo, but it’s my darling or sweetheart, just the same.”

I wanted to remember that word. I had yet to hear a Hawaiian phrase that didn’t sound better to the ear than its translation into English.

I finished my root beer and thanked them, then made my way back to New Ohia. I had less than an hour to get ready for the rehearsal and the fancy dinner that followed.

It’d been a tough couple of weeks. The explosion, my cracked ribs, the break-in at our house, followed by the road closure and power outage, the creepy box on the post office steps, and now the imprisonment and abuse of a negligent foster mom.

I was due for an enjoyable night with nothing to worry about. Even my flashy bridesmaid dress wouldn’t be an issue until the actual ceremony on Sunday.

I swiped on mascara and shimmied into the trusty black sheath dress I’d brought from Washington. I anticipated nothing more stressful than a quick dry run of “who stands where” at the wedding, followed by a night of tropical umbrella drinks and chef cuisine with some of my favorite people in the world.

Everything was going to be great. Right?

“Right,” I said out loud. Tiki sat up in her kitty bed and glared, flattening her ears. “Yep, I’m going out,” I told her. “Keep an eye on the place, will you?”

She yawned as if saying “of course.” Even Misty seemed to agree, chiming in by prancing over, her little tail flicking from side to side, to wrap her fuzzy little body around my unfamiliar high heeled feet and ankles. “You kitties know how to make a girl want to stay home.”

But of course, duty called—and I was bound to answer.