Chapter 25

Lola Reeves,the fifty-something daughter Edith had given up at birth due to being single and in college, had been in recovery for months. Lola and I had had our differences when we met, culminating in her shooting at me not once but twice. Her lawyer had gotten the charges reduced to illegal discharge of a firearm, a misdemeanor, and she'd been released with time served and was now on probation. She and Edith had been mending fences, and since she'd joined a recovery meeting program, Lola had been a model citizen—until now.

"What can I do to help?" I asked Edith. I was exhausted and hoped she'd say she simply wanted to alert someone to the situation but was convincing Lola to go home and sober up.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but I was hoping you could come over. Josie's had some problems with her CPAP machine, so I don't want to wake her. Would you mind?"

I heard a loud boom from Edith's side of the connection.

"What's going on?"

"I think she's trying to break down the door. Help me, please!"

"I'll be there as soon as I can." I pulled my weapon from my nightstand and grabbed a full magazine from the storage box and snapped it in place. I hoped I wouldn't have to use it, but I did the math: with Lola, I had two shots in my favor to make things even between us. They'd have to be inaccurate, because hers had been—but "forewarned is forearmed," I said aloud.

Rain pattered on Sharkey's windshield as I drove to Edith's tidy cottage in Hana. Driving the highway at night felt like spelunking an unexplored cave; the darkness was as thick as gravy.

I pulled into Edith's hibiscus lined driveway and slowly advanced with my lights on high beams, hoping the blast of brightness would cool Lola's aggression. Once at the house, I got out of the SUV and tucked my gun into the waistband of my jeans.

Lola stood on the front porch rhythmically pounding the door with something. As I got closer, I recognized it was a small cement-colored tiki, one of many from Edith's collection of yard art.

Bam, bam.

"Lola," I shouted over the commotion. "What's this all about?"

She turned and, with a move I didn't see coming, pitched the tiki in my direction. I dodged the heavy concrete missile and it sailed past me into the yard.

"Get out of here," Lola hollered. "This is between my mom and me." Her speech was slurred, and came out more like, "Gee owd o here. ‘Tween mum an me."

"Lola, have you've been drinking?" That was one of those "duh" questions I'd been trained to avoid in hostage negotiations, but I wanted to establish a baseline. If Lola admitted she'd fallen off the wagon and seemed remorseful, I'd move forward with suggesting we call her sponsor.

"My mom's gotta listen to me. She's making a huge mistake."

No, not remorseful.

Edith peeked through a crack in the curtains. Illuminated in the harsh headlights, her eyes resembled one of those Felix the Cat clocks with the eyeballs that click back and forth marking off the seconds.

"You're scaring your mom," I said. "Can we go inside and talk things over?"

Edith shook her head in a forceful "no" from her side of the window, but that was too bad. She'd got me out of bed and over here to deal with her loose cannon of a daughter. It was going to take a pot of strong coffee and an hour of artful negotiation to get Lola sober enough to communicate enough for conflict resolution.

I advanced toward the porch, keeping my hand down by my side in case I needed to quickly pull the Glock. Since Lola had been using both hands to ram the door, I doubted she had a weapon at the ready.

Smash! The sound of a broken front window reverberated through the night air like a thunderclap. Edith squealed from inside the cottage.

I pulled my pistol. "Lola, I'm armed. I'm ordering you off the porch. Come down the steps, slowly."

"You're not the boss of me." Lola giggled drunkenly. "Make me."

Clearly Lola wasn't intimidated by my gun; she hadn't been the other times, either. Edith must've retreated to a back area of the house because I heard nothing from her after the initial crash.

"Lola, I will use force if I have to," I said. "In Hawaii we have what they call ‘castle laws' which means people are allowed to defend their homes. You need to back off, now!"

"This isn't your castle," Lola said. "It's my mom's. And when she marries that woman, it will be Josie's. What about me? What do I get? Nothing, that's what!"

"Showing up drunk and belligerent isn't going to help your cause," I said.

"S'not right," Lola mumbled. "It's jus' not right." She stumbled off the porch, coming down the steps toward me. I kept my gun on her in case whatever she'd been using to break the window should come flying toward me, but she weaved past me without incident. I watched intently as she staggered down the driveway and out onto the road.

And then the heavens opened. Rain came pelting down in one of the sudden, heavy showers this side of the island was known for.

I hadn't seen a car parked anywhere nearby when I navigated the driveway, but at no time did I get a prick of conscience to offer Lola a ride to wherever she was staying.

Instead, I went up on the porch and, through the hole in the window, called out. "Edith! Lola walked off. She's gone."

My friend, wrapped in a leopard print plush bathrobe that made her look like a designer fire hydrant, came out from where she'd been hiding. She flicked on the porch light.

I picked up the metal orchid planter Lola had used to break the window glass and set it upright. The area beneath the shattered window was strewn with potting soil, glittering glass shards, and the smashed flower. Fortunately the deep roof overhang sheltered the area from the heavy rain that roared on the corrugated tin over the porch.

Edith unlocked and opened the door. With the inside lights shining on the door, I could see the damage the cement tiki figure had wrought. A couple more blows and the wooden door would've caved in, for sure. Glass littered the living room.

Edith's cat, Butter, peered from behind the rattan sofa, her eyes wide with fear. Edith didn't appear to be much better; her skin was pale and her blue eyes round. Her white hair stood up like a porcupine's quills as she tightened the robe reflexively. "Are you sure she's gone?"

"Yes. She's gone. The rain will sober her up fast."

"I'm so sorry to drag you into this," she said. "Again."

Edith and I had gone a few rounds with Lola and Lola's daughter, Ana, in skirmishes around the same topic: the two of them felt entitled to Edith's money. Things had been quiet since Ana had fled the country. Until now.

"Well, Lola fell off the wagon in a big way," I said. "And all bets are off when that happens with an alcoholic. Seems like Lola is angry about you marrying Josie?"

"Let me make us some tea," Edith said. "I'm too upset right now."

I considered leaving for home instead. My ribs were screaming for rest and the rain had really started to pound in earnest on the roof of the cottage. But one glance at Edith's trembling hands told me I wouldn't be able to sleep unless I stayed long enough to be certain Lola wouldn't change her mind and come back. "Where's an umbrella? I'll go turn Sharkey off and join you."

Edith pointed to a stand behind the door that held walking sticks and a couple of umbrellas. I grabbed one, dashed through the wet to the car, and shut the vehicle off.

Back inside the house while Edith rattled about in the kitchen, I scanned for something to use to block the wind coming in through the broken window. I spied a large metal tray on the coffee table. I picked it up and brought it to the doorway of the kitchen.

"Do you mind if I put this tray over the hole in the window? It's better than having the weather come in."

"I never liked that tray," Edith said. "It was a gift from a friend, so I had to display it. But it's kind of ugly, don't you think?"

I gazed more closely at the tray. The dark green metal featured a red and gold center design depicting a chicken surrounded by various other animals in a wheel resembling a clock.

"I don't get it," I said.

"It's from a friend. That's my Chinese New Year animal. I was born in the Year of the Rooster. She said rooster year people are witty and tidy."

I glanced around Edith's fastidious kitchen. "Well, it may be an ugly tray, but the sentiment is right on. Find me some duct tape, and I'll get this in place."

After I taped the tray into the window, Edith closed the curtains while I swept up the glass. We went back to the kitchen to wait while the tea brewed. The chamomile smelled comforting in the cozy confines of the bungalow. Edith rustled through the cupboard and set out a plate of macadamia nut cookies.

"These are store-bought," Edith said. "But they're not bad. Try one."

I'm not usually a middle-of-the-night snacker, but the sugar went down well after the burst of adrenaline that'd shot through me when Lola lobbed the tiki in my direction.

"Do you always carry that gun around?" Edith's frown signaled she wasn't a big fan of unfettered Second Amendment rights.

"I do when a friend is in danger," I said. "I have a permit. And I regularly recertify to keep my skills up."

"Would you have shot my daughter?" she asked.

I let Edith's question hang in the air, so she repeated it. "Would you have shot my daughter?"

She continued to stare at me until I squirmed.

"I wouldn't have shot Lola unless she was armed too," I eventually said. "Please remember. Your daughter has fired a gun at me twice already. Third time might be the charm."

"I guess that's fair." Edith picked up her mug and took a sip of the tea. The china rattled against her teeth.

Would I have shot Lola if she'd broken down the door?

No.

But I'd been fretting over my lack of action with the girl in the window. I had to keep in mind that taking action could wreak just as much havoc as doing nothing. Sometimes more.

"Do you want to call the police? File a report?"

"No. That's why I called you. Lola's on probation. A police call will send her back to jail."

I was not opposed to that idea. "I'm sorry, but I won't cover for Lola again. If she comes back, you can reach out to me, but know that I'll be calling the police. It's ‘enabling' when an alcoholic is shielded from the consequences of their actions."

Edith covered her face with her hands; I heard crying behind them. She was so small and fragile that I pushed past touch aversion to wrap an arm over her. "I understand how hard this is. You're her mother, and she plays on your guilt."

Edith lowered her hands, grabbed a dishtowel, and mopped her face with it. "I have to disinherit her now," Edith said. "She has to know it's got nothing to do with Josie but is a result of her own behavior. Can you imagine what she might do to Josie if I died first?"

"I can, and I'm sorry," I said. "And I hate to bring this up, but what if Ana comes back? Those two haven't changed. You're not safe until you change your will."

"Ana's out regardless, but I reinstated Lola as part of our reconciliation," Edith said sadly. "I'm going to leave income for life to Josie, but now the bulk of my estate will be left to an alcoholism recovery charity with just a little something for Lola. I'll have her served with a copy of my will as soon as I can get it redone."

"And you better be somewhere safe and far away when she gets that notice," I said. "In fact, it's time you put a fence and a gate around this place."

"Ugh," Edith said. "You're right. I don't think I'll sleep well here again until I do."

"May be a good time to go stay with Josie," I suggested.

We finished our tea and cookies. I walked my friend back to her bedroom and tucked her in.

After making sure Edith's place was as secure as it could be with a badly damaged door and broken front window, I dragged myself home.

Aunt Fae met me as I came inside.

"It's nearly two o'clock in the morning," I said to her. "What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep when you were out late when you were young, and tonight I heard you leave. I was worried. What's going on?"

I briefed Aunt Fae on Lola's attack on Edith's cottage.

"What's wrong with that girl?" she said.

"Girl" was charitable considering Lola was a middle-aged woman, but I understood the underlying message: parent-child relations could be fraught under the best of circumstances.

Lola had been raised by adoptive parents who abandoned her to the system. It was impossible to know whether she thought of her biological mother as family or simply as someone who owed her recompense for her troubles.

Either way, Edith and Josie needed to protect themselves.

"I'm going to call Lola's probation officer and let her know Lola's had a slip in her recovery." I had to use the banister to drag myself upstairs to bed as Aunt Fae trailed worriedly behind. I was not looking forward to work tomorrow.