Chapter 2

I usually eatat my desk, but the question of the new neighbor beckoned even as I tried to stay distracted about the girl in the window situation. I could answer my curiosity about at least one of the issues, so I went home for lunch at noon.

When I got to our house, Aunt Fae was nowhere in sight, which was odd. She's no recluse, but she does tend to be a homebody. Unless she was working at the Ohia General Store with our friends Opal and Artie, she was usually either watching a British cooking/baking show ("everyone is so polite!") or resting her feet on the comfy ottoman in the living room, perusing a cookbook or novel.

I called her name and listened, but the only sound in the silence of the house came from my formerly feral cat, Tiki. That one-eared, kink-tailed non-beauty of a calico squalled a "welcome home" while beelining to check if I'd returned to fill the kibble bowl a few hours early. She'd been hungry since her reappearance after giving birth to a litter of kittens and was intent on regaining her pre-baby weight. She was still nursing little gray Misty on occasion, the kitten we'd decided to keep, and that might have added to her calorie deficit, too.

Letting out an assertive yowl, Tiki wound around my calves in a kitty version of a square dance. Allemande left, then do-si-do your partner to the right. It was all I could do not to trip over her sashaying body.

"Okay, okay. I'm glad to see you, too." I bent down and gave her a pet; her patchy coat was smooth and soft and her puttering purr motor revved. She'd come a long way from the battered, unhealthy wildcat she'd been when we met. "Where's Auntie Fae, Tiki?" I asked.

Yep, I was talking to a cat.

I'd just asked Tiki Auntie's whereabouts, as if I expected her to clear her throat and say in a plummy, fake English accent. I believe you'll find her in the conservatory, with the candlestick, possibly doing Colonel Mustard.

I chuckled at my own humor because Tiki didn't; she had gone to sit beside her food bowl and placed a paw on its rim so I'd get the hint. "All right, all right."

I went to the pantry and opened the plastic cat food bin. Little Misty must have heard the sound; she came romping from the living room, tail held high, and pounced on her mother just as Tiki put her nose into the now-full bowl of food. Tiki's tail lashed in annoyance and she growled at her offspring. Misty was undeterred. She leapt repeatedly on Tiki's thrashing tail.

Watching Misty's antics, I mulled it over. Aunt Fae was allowed personal space, of course. Since she'd arrived in Ohia from her home in Maine, we'd done almost everything together, or with friends of mine.

Perhaps she needed a little "me time" away from… me?

I threw together a quick sandwich and, standing at the counter eating it, contemplated what I should take down to Pikake Court to welcome the new neighbors. Fruit? No, the pineapple on our counter was starting to emit an odor reminiscent of bad home brew. Sweets? Maybe. I went back to the pantry and dug through the shelves until I found the Hawaiian Host chocolate covered macadamia nuts we'd bought a week ago in Kahului. We'd picked up a bundled package of four boxes, because nothing says "Costco" like too much of a good thing—but now I frowned. There was only one box left.

Aunt Fae must have a taste for chocolate mac nuts—but then, who didn't love them? Surely our new neighbor would, too. I tucked the slim brown and yellow box under my arm and headed out.

* * *

The upscale plannedcommunity of New Ohia had been laid out like a jacaranda tree, with the main road as the trunk and cul-de-sacs splitting off like so many clustered branches. The main road "trunk" ended at what used to be a swanky community center, with a sparkling blue topaz-colored pool and state-of-the-art fitness room. Our house was near the top, on a slight rise above the rest of the neighborhood. Pikake Court was one of the lower branches, close to the entrance.

The chichi community center was now open to the public. The pool hosted keiki (Hawaiian for "kiddos") swimming lessons, and at their morning aqua fitness classes, the local Red Hat Society ladies giggled and shrieked louder than the kids when they were in session.

The fitness center equipment had been sold to an aging Hollywood celebrity who had a vacation home in Hana, leaving that space available for arts and crafts classes and drop-in party use.

I stepped out on the warm asphalt in my favorite size eleven Nikes, box of chocolates under my arm. As I walked toward Pikake Court, I realized I was irritated and apprehensive, as well as excited, to be meeting the latest occupants of New Ohia State Park.

Aunt Fae and I had been tasked with watching over the park premises and picking up litter on weekends in return for next-to-nothing rent, so why hadn't we been apprised about new folks moving in?

But to be fair, the whole "park employee" designation was sort of a wink-wink, nod-nod thing, and there was no clear person to ask about park issues. That had probably led to the oversight in notifying us.

I vowed to keep my miffed attitude to myself, in spite of also having to give up the last box of chocolate mac nuts; it might be fun having other "New Ohians" nearby.

I pictured us bonding over a pau hana post-work drink, or a weekend barbecue. Neither Aunt Fae nor I had the skills necessary to bury a whole pig in the ground or harvest, cook, peel and pound kalo for poi to create a luau—but throwing a few shrimp on the barbie? Definitely a possibility.

I reached the area as the movers were hauling a massive metal trunk out of the truck. The guy who appeared to be in charge bellowed into the shadowy garage, "Where's this go?"

A feminine voice replied, "In here is good."

The two solidly built men wrestling the trunk shot each other glances suggesting the quicker they could set it down, the better. "Whoa. What you got in here? Rocks?"

The woman inside the garage gave a tinkly, girlish laugh. "Sorry it's so heavy."

I'm over six feet tall with firearms skills and the ability to bench-press my body weight. If I attempted a girly girl laugh like that, Aunt Fae would put a hand on my forehead to check for a fever.

"Aloha. Welcome to New Ohia State Park." I held out the box of mac nuts as I entered the dim confines of the garage, and as my eyes adjusted, I took in a woman around my age (thirtyish, give or take) standing next to Aunt Fae.

Skin the golden color of a caramel apple set off her pretty face. Her long black hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. In the low light of the garage, it was impossible to determine what box she might check in the "Ethnicity" section of a census form: Black? Asian? Native American? All of the above?

But what really caught my attention was that this woman was nearly my height. Probably not quite six feet, but darn close.

"You must be Kat," she said. "Fae has been telling me about you."

"And there you are, Auntie. I was wondering where you were," I said. "And yes. I'm Kat."

Aunt Fae took over. "And this is Elle."

Elle stepped forward and stuck out her hand. Thank goodness she wasn't one of those huggers. Many folks I'd met since landing in Hawaii insisted on embracing complete strangers. We shook, brief and firm. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

"And as your aunt said, I'm Elle Beane."

I paused, raising my brows.

"Yeah," she went on. "I hear you're both from Maine, originally. I'm only going to give you one guess what my middle initial is."

"L?"

"You got it."

"Your name is Elle L. Beane?"

"I've got parents with a sense of humor."

"Apparently."

"Oh, but I got off easy. I have two brothers and a sister. You ready for this?"

My mouth was somewhat ajar. I nodded.

"My twin brothers are Pinto and Navy, and my baby sister's name is Garbanzo."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. She goes by ‘Gabby.' She's only seventeen but she swears the only thing she wants for her eighteenth birthday is her day in court."

"To change her name."

"You got it."

I remembered hospitality and held out the box. "I've got no follow-up to that. My full name is Katherine Smith. Here's your consolation prize, Elle L. Beane."

"Chocolate macadamia nuts. How thoughtful." Elle took the box and shot a quick glance at Aunt Fae. My aunt rolled her eyes and pointed her chin toward a credenza by the door that led into the house. The two missing boxes from our kitchen rested there.

"Oops. I see you've already got the candy thing handled."

"Thanks anyway. Why don't I return your kind welcome by offering you a box to take home? I can't maintain a healthy lifestyle with this much temptation around." Elle didn't appear to be a woman who'd succumbed to the siren song of sugar even once in the last year. She was lithe and toned, with calves that hinted she knew her way around an uphill climb. She handed Aunt Fae the box I'd just given her.

"That reminds me," Aunt Fae said. "I need to get to the grocery store before they close. Would you like to come to dinner with us this evening, Elle?"

"Thanks, but I'll have to take a rain check. I've been hired on at the Hotel Hana and I've got orientation at five."

"New job, huh? Is that why you're here?" I was curious as to how she'd been able to nab one of the model houses in the park.

Elle caught my gaze and glanced away. "Yeah. It's a long story."

"Well, we'll wait until next time to get that," Aunt Fae said. "Glad to have you as our neighbor, Elle."

"And I've got to run back to work, but the sentiment holds for me as well," I said. "Catch you later, Elle, Auntie."

I waved and set off, jogging back to work and putting our new neighbor out of my mind.

Since Chad had alerted me to a possibly dire situation in which time was of the essence, I needed to leave promptly after the post office closed. I ordered my steps mentally as I washed up a bit in the restroom before going to relieve Pua at the front desk.

First, I'd try to speak to Chad's mystery friend Doug Beachum, the UPS guy. Get info from the source. Then, I'd get directions to the hermit's place on my cell's GPS. Then, I'd drive out and take a look around, after which I'd call Lei and file my report.

I felt the thrum in my chest I get when my investigator's "spidey sense" signals something's up.

Just three more hours of postal work, and I'd be hightailing it out to spy on a hermit and maybe rescue a little girl.

I'd never served on a child's protective detail during my Secret Service career but, to my mind, the stakes with kids were always higher.