Nobody likes getting interrupted in the middle of something, but since Wong worked homicide, he was probably used to it by now.

"What's it now, Ms. Moon?" he said when he called me four minutes after I'd called the station number on his business card. "I'm going to have to turn my phone off in a couple of minutes so this better be good."

"I got a ransom note."

"A ransom note," he echoed. "And what does your 'ransom note' say, specifically?"

"You want me to read it to you?"

He blew out a breath that came across the phone line as a loud whoosh.

"Okay," I said. I motioned for Steve to bring me the note and I read the four short lines to Wong. "Notice how he mentions US money. Oh, and although I read you the words 'know' and 'where,' he actually spelled them wrong. He left out the 'k' in 'know' and he left out the 'h' in 'where."

"What's going on with you, Ms. Moon? Why are you still messing around with this? I was dead serious when I requested that you not concern yourself further with official police business."

"Look, Detective, I'm not enjoying any of this. I don't know why I was picked to be the go-between with all of this stuff, but I was. I'm concerned about the welfare of the woman they're referring to in the ransom note, that's all."

"Ms. Moon, I'm about to board a flight to Honolulu on official business. But in the interest of showing good faith I'm willing to reschedule my trip on one condition: you promise to hand over the note and leave this entire case up to us. From this point on, I don't want you snooping around, or telling kidnapping tales to your kung fu buddies. Do I have your word on that?"

"Absolutely. Look, I've got my own problems, Detective. My big Saturday wedding's been cancelled. The only people I'll be talking to are my suppliers when I call to pull the plug."

"Huh, so that wedding got cancelled. Do you know why?"

"No clue, the bridal couple just up and left."

"When?"

"What do you care? You said yourself this whole bridesmaid thing was a hoax."

"Ms. Moon, I'm going to have to call my boss and rearrange my schedule in order to deal with your situation. I'd appreciate you granting me the courtesy of straight answers."

"Okay, right after the ransom note was put on my car I went up to the Kapalua Ritz where they were staying and they'd already checked out. I don't know why they left or where they're going, but they paid me what they owed and they won't take my calls, so I'm assuming that's the end of it."

"My plane's already left without me. Give me a minute to clear things up with my superiors and I'll come up there and get your so-called ransom note. Stay right there. When I arrive, be prepared to tell me everything you know about this situation so we can put this thing to rest." He hung up.

"Wow, what a grouch," I said to Steve. "I don't know why you think that guy's so hot."

"I didn't say he was 'hot.' I said he was-oh, forget it. So, what's going on?"

"Well, mister hot-or-not Glen Wong's coming up here to get the note. And-I'm quoting here-'put this thing to rest.' Not one word of concern about Crystal."

"He's probably playing it close to the vest," said Steve. "Doesn't want you to get a big head 'cuz you've brought him something important after he blew you off before."

I shrugged.

"No, think about it," he went on, "they're gonna have to start taking Crystal's disappearance seriously now. They'll probably call in the FBI or something."

Steve and I sat in the living room until Wong's car pulled into the driveway. When Steve got up to go to his room, he put a hand on my shoulder.

"Let the police handle this, Pali. Don't make it your problem."

I nodded. I'd promised to butt out, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to do everything in my power to keep tabs on their efforts to find Crystal and bring her back unscathed.

Outside, two car doors slammed shut. I peeked out the window. Wong had brought along a partner.

"Hey," I said to Wong as I opened the door. "It's just a sheet of paper. Probably won't require two of you guys to haul it out of here."

"Pali Moon, this is my partner, Detective Bert Konomanu." Konomanu was holding a soft-sided briefcase with both hands. He bobbed his head in greeting.

"You any relation to Noni Konomanu?" I'd gone to school with Noni, but she was no longer a friend. It had to do with her trying to steal my business earlier in the year.

"Yeah, she's my cousin on my dad's side. She's living over in Honolulu now, working for Tank Sherman."

I invited them in and offered them something to drink. Both asked for water. I went into the kitchen to get the water and pick up the ransom note. The cash was still fanned out on the table. I gathered it up and stuffed it in my purse.

"Nice house," Wong said as I came back to the living room. "How long you been living here, Ms. Moon?"

"A couple of years. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. We're supposed to put the public at ease by starting off with small talk. It's part of the chief's new 'customer service' program." He turned to Konomanu as if expecting him to contribute some idle chit chat of his own, but Wong's partner stared straight ahead-silent.

"Okay, then, let's get down to business. May I see the note?" Wong pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pants pocket and snapped them on his hands. Konomanu did the same.

"I'm afraid I've been handling this paper all morning," I said. My voice came out in a panicky tone I hadn't expected. "I mean, my fingerprints are probably all over the thing."

"We watch CSI, Ms. Moon. Our technicians can deal with ruling out known prints. Your fingerprints are still on file from the last time you called us for help."

"Oh. Okay."

He carefully opened the folded note and leaned over so he and his partner could read it at the same time. Then Konomanu extracted a plastic bag from his briefcase and held it open while Wong dropped the note inside. Konomanu sealed the top and then took out a felt pen and wrote on the bag. He carefully laid the bag on top of a stack of papers already in the briefcase. Wong and I watched the whole procedure in silence.

Before zipping the briefcase closed, Konomanu yanked off his gloves and Wong did the same. They stuffed them in their left pants pockets. Then they both took out notepads and ballpoint pens from an inside pocket of their jackets and clicked the pens at the same time. They'd obviously been partners for some time-it was like watching a tightly choreographed Cirque-du-Soleil pas de deux.

"Okay, let's begin," said Wong.

Two hours later I wearily closed the door. I'd told them everything I could remember about Keith and Nicole, even throwing in Farrah's claims of bad auras and chilling tarot readings. After they left, I felt even more ill at ease. I flipped the lock on the door. Strange-the last time I'd been careful to lock my front door was the first time I'd ever met Detective Glen Wong.

The next morning, I drove to Lahaina anticipating the miserable task of notifying my vendors that Saturday's wedding had been cancelled. I made a list, and prioritized it by who needed to know first. Keahou topped the list since she typically started making her cakes three to four days before the wedding. The guy I'd signed up to perform the ceremony brought up the rear. He used a fill-in-the-blanks script and typically showed up only a few minutes before the start time. His contribution was rarely moving or eloquent, but he was a plus-size local guy, with the big kahuna look that Keith and Nicole had insisted on.

I clomped up the back stairs to my shop and unlocked the door. The fish smell didn't seem as robust as it sometimes was, but maybe I was just getting used to it. When I got inside, the light on my answering machine was blinking. The first two calls were vendors checking in, and the third call was from Trish, my prospective December bride. "Hi wedding lady! You must really be a busy gal. Seems we're playing phone tag here. Anyhow, I need to talk with you about me and Buddy's Christmas-time wedding. Call me." She left her number.

I started dialing Trish's number, then checked my watch and realized it was five o'clock in the morning over on the mainland. As eager as Trish seemed to lay claim to Buddy, a crack of dawn phone call probably wouldn't be appreciated.

I dialed Keahou instead.

"Hey, girl," she said before I could launch into my no-go speech. "I was going to call you this morning. Don't worry, I got everything ready. I special ordered those nice papayas from the Big Island and they came in yesterday. They're perfect. Oh, and I already baked the groom's cake. Komo says it's my best boob job ever."

I told her the groom had cancelled wedding.

"Oh, too bad. He dump her or she dump him?"

"I'm not sure what's going on. They took off before I could talk to them. But don't worry, he paid me. How much do I owe you?"

"Hey, stuff happens. Mai hopohopo-don't you worry about me. Do you want some Big Island papayas? I got two dozen here, and Komo and me will only be able to eat three or four before they go hauna."

I insisted on paying her for the groom's cake and for the twenty papayas she'd had flown in from Hilo. She refused any money for her time and trouble.

"You the one paying for this crazy boobie cake, then you should be the one eating it," she said. "When can you come and get it?"

I promised I'd drive up to Kula before noon. Then I went on to the next call. By ten o'clock I'd talked to everyone on my list. My cancellation charges totaled almost nineteen hundred dollars. Even after rounding it up to two grand, I still had a whopping five thousand dollars left over.

I convinced myself it was okay to keep at least some of the money. After all, when I'd made my pact to donate the excess to charity I'd never dreamed it would be so much. I settled on giving half to a worthwhile cause and putting the other half in my skinny savings account. After all, wasn't I a worthwhile cause?

Unfortunately, as everyone knows, nothing good comes from broken promises. As Farrah would say, bad karma is way worse than bad luck. Looking back, I wish I'd handed the entire ten grand over to the local women's shelter or the food bank and paid my vendor expenses out of my own pocket. Maybe if I hadn't tried to scam the universe I could've headed off a lot of what was about to unfold.

CHAPTER 16.

The ride up to Keahou's bakery in Kula was peaceful even though my mind was going a hundred miles an hour. Had Keith somehow known about the ransom note? Was he worried whoever snatched Crystal might later come for Nicole? How much did he know, and more importantly, what would the kidnappers do to Crystal now that he'd taken off?

"There you are," Keahou sang out as I peered through the window in her kitchen door. "E como mai-come in, come in." She'd boxed up the groom's cake and had a big paper bag, bulging with the almost-ripe papayas, ready for me on the table.

"You hear anything from your bridal couple?" she asked, gesturing for me to sit down while she cut a thick slice of cinnamon bread and placed it on a plate before me.

"Nah. They're long gone, probably on their way back to the mainland. I don't even have a home address for them."

"Huh. What address did they put on their marriage license application?"

I looked up from buttering my bread. "That's what's strange. They used a post office box number. Almost like they didn't want anyone to know where they lived."

We talked for about ten minutes and then the timer went off on her stove. "Oh, I gotta get that out of the oven," she said. "Komo's niece's boyfriend is having his twenty-one birthday and I'm baking a cake for the party."

"Busman's holiday, huh?"

She squinted at me. "No, I think he sells ads for KPOA radio. Not a bus driver."

I considered explaining the goofy expression, but then thought better of it. Besides, I needed to pick up the absurdly expensive bridal gown Nicole had left behind. The seamstress had been none too pleased to hear the bride had abandoned it, and she'd sounded nervous about getting paid. I'd promised to bring her the money and pick up the dress, but I had no use for it-my garage was already bursting with cold-feet castoffs from "Let's Get Maui'd." Farrah was always buying and selling stuff online, maybe I'd ask her to help me find it a good home on Craigslist or e-bay.

I picked up the pink cake box with one hand and hefted the bag of papayas in the other. "Mahalo for being so nice about this, Keahou. It seems I'm always cancelling on you. This is the third time this year."

"Oh, these things are hard to see coming. It's better they decide not to do it then go ahead and be sorry later, eh?"

"Yeah. But I wish they wouldn't wait until the last minute."

"This not last minute. Last minute is like what happened to my sister's sweet baby girl. You remember her-my niece Kulakai? Anyhow, her man says he has to go to the lua-how you say, 'the john'-ten minutes before the wedding supposed to start and then he beat feet right on out the back door of the church. That was stinky thing to do. Kulakai still spits on the ground when anybody say his name."

She pecked me on both cheeks and I returned it. Then I went out to my car and slid the cake box onto the backseat. I still couldn't look at that seat without seeing the ghost of Crystal's hair draped across it. Now that the ransom note had surfaced, looking at it freaked me out even more.

The clock in my car said twelve-thirty, which meant the work day had begun on the West Coast. I called Trish's work number and she picked up.

"Hey! Thanks for calling me back," she said. "Guess what? I'm leaving for Hawaii tonight. I talked my boss into letting me go to this swanky conference in Honolulu. Can we meet sometime to talk about my wedding?"

"Uh, well, Honolulu is on the island of O'ahu, not Maui. Any chance you could fly over here? I could show you around and we could start sketching out ideas." I prayed she'd say yes; I wasn't in the mood for another quick trip to Honolulu.

"I thought Hawaii was a state."

"It is."

"But isn't it, like, connected?"

"No, it's a group of islands. There are seven major islands and a bunch of tiny islands. The only way to easily get from one island to the other is by plane." I couldn't believe I had to give her a geography lesson. This is how Canadians must feel.

"How long does it take to get to Maui from Honolulu?"

"It's a short flight, less than an hour total. And planes leave Honolulu all the time. It's kind of like taking a bus. You just buy a ticket and get on the next available flight. By the way, where do you live on the West Coast?"

"I'm in Portland. The Oregon Portland, not the one in Maine," she said. I resisted telling her I could've figured that out since Maine was definitely not West Coast and, unlike her, I'd managed to stay awake in school during social studies class. Instead, I said, "Great. When you arrive, give me a call and we'll set up a time. I'm looking forward to meeting you."

We signed off and I checked the clock on my dash. Not quite one o'clock. I still had Keith's money in my bag and I needed to get to the bank. But the little chunk of cinnamon bread I'd had at Keahou's had whetted my appetite. I turned at Hali'imaile Road and headed for home.

I walked in the back door and Steve met me in the kitchen.

"You know, you really ought to hire a secretary," he said, handing over four scraps of paper with scribbled phone numbers. I quickly scanned the messages-none were from Keith.

"But why would I do that? You're doing such a great job."

"Don't push me, Pali."

"Tell you what. Since you've been so helpful and we haven't had any fun time lately, why don't I take you to lunch at Hali'imaile General Store. It'll be my Secretary's Day treat."

"I think it's called Administrative Assistant Day now. Is that today?"

"Probably not. But you deserve something nice for holding down the fort."

"Well there's nice, and then there's fabulous. Are you sure you can afford to take your 'secretary' to a gourmet lunch like that?"

"Yep. My 'administrative assistant's' been very patient with me, and I can't think of a better way to enjoy a little of this cash burning a hole in my pocket."

We went out to my car and I drove the short distance to Bev Gannon's famous Maui restaurant tucked alongside the two-lane road that cuts through the Hali'imaile pineapple fields. The place actually used to be the company store when the surrounding fields were sugar cane, not pineapple. The street view doesn't do justice to the delights that lie within. It's a simple clapboard building, with a tall false front, painted beige with white trim. Wide wooden steps lead to a generous front porch. Once you step inside, you can feel the love. Vibrant sunny yellow walls sport colorful fish sculptures, and dozens of local art pieces are on display on tall shelves behind the bar. The palpable attention to detail assures diners they aren't there just to enjoy a great meal-they're also going to be treated to a few hours of pure aloha.