Page 20 of Tiki Beach (Paradise Crime Cozy Mystery #6)
Saturday mornings were sacred in my world—the one day a week when I allowed myself the luxury of sleeping past dawn. No postal regulations to enforce, no early mail trucks to meet, no schedule except the one dictated by my own body’s need for rest.
At least, that was the theory.
“Mrrrow.”
I kept my eyes firmly shut, clinging to the remnants of a pleasant dream involving Keone, a deserted beach, and absolutely no investigations or postal emergencies.
“Mrrrrrow.” The vocalization grew more insistent, accompanied by the gentle but deliberate press of kneading paws on my chest.
“Five more minutes,” I mumbled, burrowing deeper into my pillow.
The weight on my chest shifted, and suddenly Tiki settled directly onto my pillow, her whiskers tickling my nose. I cracked one eye to find myself staring directly into an unblinking yellow gaze approximately two inches from my face.
“This is harassment,” I informed her.
Tiki responded by placing one paw delicately on my cheek and patting, as if checking whether I was sufficiently awake to fulfill my breakfast-providing duties.
“Fine,” I sighed. “But you should know this is an abuse of our relationship.”
Tiki arched her back lazily, as if she hadn’t been fully awake and pestering me and leapt gracefully from the bed. At the doorway, she paused to ensure I was actually getting up before proceeding downstairs toward the kitchen.
I glanced at the clock: 6:20 AM. “Argh!” At least she was consistent.
Shuffling downstairs in my oversized UH Hilo T-shirt (the same one I’d borrowed from Keone), I found Aunt Fae already at the table, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and the latest issue of “True Crime Quarterly” in the other.
Aunt Fae had never worn a stitch of makeup ever, and had spent most of her life covered up from the sun in Maine.
This was possibly why her skin was soft and smooth, taking a good ten years off her seventy-something age.
She kept her salt-and-pepper hair in a no-nonsense bob she trimmed herself with nail scissors.
Today she wore her usual outfit, a T-shirt advertising Ohia General Store (where she provided backup help for Opal and Artie) and a pair of jeans.
To me, she was one of the most gorgeous women I’d ever known—inside and out.
“Morning, sunshine,” she greeted without looking up from an article that, judging by the visible headline, involved a dismemberment in Delaware. “Your furry alarm clock is right on time.”
“Tiki’s practicing psychological warfare,” I muttered, making a beeline for the coffee pot. “I think she’s mad that I didn’t come home the other night.”
“Cats and grudges,” Aunt Fae said. “They go together like peanut butter and jelly.”
I poured coffee into my favorite old Do Not Speak to Me Until this Mug is Empty cup, a relic from when I’d moved into the shack behind the post office.
I then set about appeasing Tiki with gourmet cat food—the expensive kind that claimed to be “wild-caught sustainable seafood medley” but smelled suspiciously like regular miscellaneous fish parts, but with better marketing.
Misty, a delicate gray tabby with white paws and Tiki’s daughter, rose languidly from her basket and came to eat as well.
With a much mellower personality than her mother, she seemed to benefit from cruising in her parent’s more turbulent wake.
With Tiki so firmly claiming me as her human, Misty had attached to Aunt Fae.
All of this was part of a harmonious home I was hesitant to break up, even for something as appealing as Mr. K in bed every night.
“Any developments in the investigation into Pearl’s poisoning?” Despite her casual tone, I could see genuine concern in Aunt Fae’s blue eyes; Pearl was a friend to us both.
“A lot has been happening. I found evidence hidden in Pearl’s origami cranes,” I said, leaning against the counter as Tiki, after her earlier demands, picked fussily at her breakfast. “A computer drive with documentation about Felix Santos’s crimes during the internment period.”
Auntie’s eyebrows shot up. “In paper cranes? That’s a proper use of crafts. I approve.”
“I went back to the Hana police station with Lei to have a look at it yesterday, but it was encrypted. Lei has the drive now. She’s having the tech department at the main station go through it.
” I sipped my coffee, savoring the rich warmth as I took a seat beside Auntie.
“David Santos confronted me at the cultural center yesterday. It got . . . tense.”
“Define ‘tense,’” Aunt Fae said, setting down her magazine and going into the kitchen. “This calls for banana bread.” She took a loaf off the counter and cut a generous slice for each of us, popping them in the toaster oven.
“I’ll sum it up. He made veiled threats, Tiki attacked him, I escaped, and Lei showed up just in time to prevent further escalation.”
“Tiki attacked him? That’s my girl!” She reached down to offer Tiki an approving scratch, which the cat accepted as her due before returning to her breakfast.
“But the worst thing is, he burned Pearl’s cranes. The ones where she’d documented the evidence she’d gathered.”
Aunt Fae expression hardened even as the fragrant aroma of warm banana bread surrounded us in a comforting perfume. “This is serious business you’re mixed up in. Attempted murder—it’s like something straight out of my magazines, except it’s happening to my niece.”
“I’m being careful,” I said.
“Hmm. Is ‘careful’ what we’re calling breaking into museums after-hours now?”
I choked on my coffee. “How did you?—”
“Pua called looking for you yesterday evening,” Aunt Fae explained with a mischievous twinkle. “She mentioned something about whether I thought it was hypocritical of you to scold her for breaking into your office when you’d done the same thing at the museum.”
“Someone must have seen Keone and me,” I muttered. “Dang it.”
“I assured her that ethical consistency is overrated when solving this kind of case,” Aunt Fae said cheerfully. “Besides, I was the one who taught you how not to need keys. Remember that time we got locked out of our Maine cabin during a snowstorm?”
“You told me it was an essential life skill,” I said, smiling despite irritation with Pua’s tattling. “And that particular time it was.”
“Wasn’t I right?” She grinned. “Look how handy it’s been for your Secret Service, then criminal investigation career!”
“But I’m a postal worker now.”
“A postal worker who solves crimes in her spare time,” Aunt Fae said. “I rest my case.”
Before I could formulate a suitably witty retort, my phone rang from somewhere in my bedroom upstairs. “That’s probably Keone,” I said, heading toward the stairs. “We’re supposed to go hiking today if nothing breaks in the investigation.”
“Tell him I’ve got extra banana bread if he wants to stop by for breakfast first,” Aunt Fae called after me. “And home cured bacon from the Namura family.”
“He wouldn’t want to miss that!”
But my phone’s screen showed not Keone’s name, but Lei’s. A call from the detective this early on a Saturday made my heart speed up. “Lei? What’s happened?”
“As you may have heard, Pearl was moved back to our Maui hospital. She woke up briefly today, around four a.m.” Lei’s voice was clipped, professional, but I could hear the underlying strain. “Someone tried to get to her. Kawika, her caregiver, was attacked.”
“What? Is he okay? Is Pearl safe?” My heart had jumped so hard I lay a hand on my chest.
“Pearl’s safe. Kawika has a concussion. I’m at the hospital now. I need you and Keone to come out as soon as you can.”
“We’ll be there ASAP,” I promised, already moving to my dresser to grab clothing. “Maybe Keone can fly us out—you know how long the drive takes. What exactly happened?”
“Pearl regained consciousness briefly and managed to say a few words to Kawika. Then someone hit him. He came around quickly though and was able to give me a call.”
“And Pearl?” I asked, my heart racing.
“Unharmed. The nurses had just given her scheduled medication, so she was drifting back to sleep when the attack occurred. She’s sedated now, and I have a uniform outside the door.”
“Did Kawika say what Pearl told him?”
“Something about ‘1942’ and ‘crane box.’ Does that mean anything to you?”
“1942 was when the processing center was operating on her family’s land,” I said, quickly pulling on jeans while holding the phone against my shoulder. “And the crane box is what we’ve been looking for—a sandalwood box with a crane carved on it that supposedly contains her father’s journal.”
“Well, now we know it’s important enough for someone to risk attacking a man in a hospital to prevent him from sharing what Pearl said.” Lei’s voice hardened. “I’ve got officers stationed outside Pearl’s room. No one gets in without clearance.”
“We’ll be there in a couple of hours unless Keone can fly us,” I said, hunting for a clean shirt. “In which case it’ll be a lot sooner. Have you called him?”
“Keone’s next up. I wanted to reach you first.”
“Thanks, Lei. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” I ended the call and quickly finished dressing, my mind racing.
Pearl had woken up—that was the good news. But someone had been watching and waiting for precisely that moment—and had tried to silence her again by coming at her caregiver.
Returning to the kitchen, I found Aunt Fae and Tiki waiting for me expectantly. I quickly told them about Lei’s call.
“Good lord. The Santos family isn’t messing around, are they?” Aunt Fae scowled. “I never liked either of those men. Just a little too slick, and not just their hair pomade.”
“We don’t know who it was,” I cautioned. “But Lei has officers guarding Pearl now.”
“You be careful,” Aunt Fae said firmly. “And take this for Kawika.” She handed me a wrapped loaf of banana bread as well as the slices she’d toasted for me. “Hospital food is terrible.”
I accepted the bread. Trust Aunt Fae to think of comfort food in a crisis. “I’ll call you with updates,” I promised, heading for the door.