O'ahu Lonesome Tonight? (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series #5) by JoAnn Bassett Page B

the
cool leather seat.
    I gave Stuart a
kiss on the cheek and then said, “I need to ask you a favor. Steve called and
he’s on his way. Can we wait a few minutes until he gets here?  He said
he’d had to be rescued up at the North Shore.”
    “No can do. My
wife’s got dinner ready and waiting. I’m sure your friend’s harrowing story
will keep for a couple more hours.”
    “But I told him
I’d be here.”
    “When did you
talk to him?”
    “A few minutes
ago, when he called.”
    “Well, you told
me you’d come to my house for dinner two hours ago. So I win. Don’t
forget to buckle up.”
    He shot out of
the portico as if someone had waved a checkered flag. I winced. The sidewalks
of Waikiki are filled with a constant stream of pedestrians and I was amazed
Stuart hadn’t mowed down a few people as he rocketed across the sidewalk and
out onto the street.
    We roared down Kalakaua , shooting through yellows about to be red, and
zigzagging around jaywalking tourists.
    “Uh, is there a
reason you’re driving so fast?”
    He laughed.
“This isn’t fast. You should’ve seen how Dad drove. He used to clock his time
from point to point and try to beat his record every time he got in the car.”
    “Tell me about
Natalie.”
    “What’s to
tell? You’ll meet her soon enough.”
    We shot down
Diamond Head Road and then onto Kahala Avenue. Soon
we were in a neighborhood of stately houses on expansive lots. One house had
dozens of white Grecian-type statues in a yard festooned with
intricately-shaped topiary and severely-clipped hedges. It looked like a
tropical attempt at a formal English garden. Behind the elaborate garden was a
sprawling oceanfront home.
    “What’s going
on there?” I said pointing toward the place.
    “The Greek’s? Yeah, that guy’s something else. He owns a
bunch of souvlaki joints on O’ahu and Maui. Who’d of thunk Japanese tourists would go
wild over gyros and ouzo?”
    Another block
down, Stu slowed to take a speed bump. “I hate these things. Some a-hole had
the city put these in. Said he was worried about his kids. I say, ‘If you’re
kids are so stupid they walk in the street, then maybe
they shouldn’t grow up.’ You know what I’m saying? Darwin’s
survival of the fittest and all.”
    We pulled into
the circular driveway of an ivory-colored, two-story home with a tile roof. The
place was a mini-mansion. It was across the street from the oceanfront homes,
but it was still a jaw-dropping residence.
    “You live
here?”
    “Since last February.”
    “Wow, Stuart.
This is amazing.”
    “It’s ‘Stu,’
okay? When you call me ‘Stuart’ I feel like I’m in trouble or something.”
    The front doors
were inlaid with beveled glass and the foyer was tiled in shiny ivory-colored
granite. The floors beyond the foyer were some sort of reddish-colored wood. My
mind wandered to a documentary I’d seen about disappearing hardwood forests in
Southeast Asia, but I put it out of my mind. The walls were white—almost
blindingly white—and there were skylights in the foyer as well as the sitting
room beyond the dining area. The house had an open floor plan, which made it
seem to go on forever.
    A tall woman of
about thirty with Asian features and glossy shoulder-length dark hair stood at
the far end of the foyer. She was dressed in a silky red blouse over an
ankle-length slim black skirt. Stu had mentioned she was pregnant but from the
looks of things she was one of those women who doesn’t show it until the baby
is a few weeks from making an appearance. The outfit looked understated, but
two years of wedding planning had given me an eye for quality tailoring. I
figured her minimalist outfit probably cost more than everything I had in my
closet back on Maui.
    She stepped
forward and extended her hands. On her left hand, an enormous diamond twinkled
in the bright light streaming through the skylight.
    “Welcome to our
home,” she said. Her voice was low, with a slightly British