The first guests began arriving at five. There were lawyers and real estate tycoons, business owners and politicians. I couldn't quite figure out what they all had in common, but it wasn't my job to scrutinize the guest list; I was there to make sure they had a good time.

After everyone was aboard and had a drink in hand, Ono fired up the engine and we pulled out of the harbor. We cleared the channel and were headed north, toward the Honolulu airport, when one of the male guests got up on the steps leading to the stern and bellowed for everyone's attention.

"I'd like to offer a toast to our hostess." He had to yell to be heard over the rising wind. "We've all benefitted from Tomika and Willie's generosity and I think I speak for everyone here when I offer my ko'u mahalo for your kindness, and wish you all the best in your retirement. The Honolulu Press and News will never be the same without you."

I looked over at Tomika, standing on the deck holding a glass of fruit juice festooned with the obligatory paper umbrella and cherry on a pick. She was looking down. When she raised her head, her eyes were shiny and her lips tightly clamped, as if she were walking a thin edge between sorrow and pride.

"Mahalo to all of you, my good friends," she said. "You have stood by me and my dear, late husband through all kinds of happy times and hard times. Your aloha and good wishes mean more to me than the most precious of jewels. My home is always open to each and every one of you. May you have the good fortune of a long and interesting life, and may each of your families be safe and prosperous for generations to come."

She may have looked like she was struggling to keep her emotions in check, but I couldn't have been that eloquent if you'd given me two days' head start.

We sailed up the coastline almost to Ewa Beach before turning around. It was dark when we returned to the harbor and the partygoers had become quiet. One by one they made their way off the catamaran, kissing and hugging Tomika while whispering their mahalos and best wishes. She left arm-in-arm with the last departing guest-a woman who'd offered to drive Tomika home.

"Whew. That was fun, but I'm exhausted," I said as I picked up plastic cups and appetizer plates and stuffed them into the garbage bag Chico held open for me.

"I think Tomika was amazed everyone showed up," said Ono. "We were pretty much at capacity." He sounded tired, but I chalked it up to the stress of keeping the boat on course and getting all those mucky-mucks safely back without incident.

We swept and wiped up and hauled trash for the better part of an hour. Then Chico slipped on his sandals and waved good-bye.

"We'll be pulling out no later than six," said Ono.

"Got it, boss. I'll be here."

While we waited for Bub to come down and pick us up in the town car, we made small talk but avoided revisiting the topic of Ono and Tomika's struggle with sobriety.

I was eager to get back to Maui. Back to home base and my normal life. But, as they say, be careful what you wish for: it wouldn't be long before I'd be hard-pressed to remember what my normal life even looked like.

CHAPTER 11.

At five-thirty on Monday morning we were back in the town car and Bub was driving us down to the harbor. The sun had barely lightened the sky beyond the Ko'olau Mountains and by the time we got underway the wind was blowing hard from the south. The crossing was rougher than it'd been on Saturday, but we still managed to make it to Lahaina before dark. Ono slipped the catamaran carefully alongside the dock and Chico jumped out and tied it up. As I gathered my belongings and picked up my sandals, Ono pulled two white envelopes from a drawer in the cabin and handed one to Chico, the other to me. Chico gave Ono a fist-bump of thanks and bounded onto the dock. I hung back.

"Mahalo for thinking of me," I said. "I appreciate it."

"Are you kidding? You saved the day. Chico's a good sailor but he's kind of lacking in people skills. And Tomika really enjoyed having you around. She told me so."

"I can't believe she gave me that silk robe," I said. "It's so gorgeous."

"Believe me, she loved every minute. Maybe you'll consider going out with me another time?"

I nodded, unsure of what I'd just agreed to do.

As we said our alohas, I reminded Ono we'd be doing Keith and Nicole's photo shoot at noon on Saturday, right before the ceremony.

"I'll have everything spic and span."

"I guess I'll see you then," I said.

"Unless I see you before. Call me if you want." He leaned in and put an arm around my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. I'll admit to being a tad disappointed it wasn't followed by at least a peck on the cheek.

His comment about calling reminded me I hadn't picked up my cell phone messages for three days. I generally didn't get many messages on the weekends but it was unheard of for me to go incommunicado for more than a day when I had a big wedding coming up.

I punched in my voicemail code.

You have six messages, said the stern female voice. The number of messages and her curt tone made me feel even worse about falling off the radar for seventy-two hours.

The first two messages were vendors-the DJ and the bartender-confirming the date, time and place of the reception. I was known for getting cranky with my suppliers if they didn't call and check in with me a few days before a wedding. But it was justified. I'd literally been left standing at the altar without things like flowers and folding chairs, and once even the official performing the ceremony was a no-show, so I demanded a call-in from everyone the week before a wedding.

The third message wasn't a vendor. It was the guy who'd called on Halloween night-the night I'd been searching for Crystal. Same whispery voice, same peculiar accent. "So, I guess you don't take me for serious," he said. With his accent it sounded like 'cirrus'-a type of wispy cloud-but I was pretty sure he wasn't calling to discuss the weather.

He went on. "That's too bad, you know? 'Cuz I wanna talk to you. Don' keep me waiting too long, Ms. Moon, or you'll be sorry. Okay?" I heard muffled noise in the background, but I couldn't make out what it was. Bar clatter? A sporting event? I saved the message and went on to the next one.

Hatch's familiar deep voice came on after the voicemail lady announced I'd received call number four on Sunday at eight-twenty-three a.m. "Hey, Babe. I'm off today. You want to get together? Call me. I'll wait to hear from you." Oh, darn. I'd forgotten to call him and tell him I'd be out of town. Not good.

The fifth message was from Glen Wong. "Ms. Moon, we're wrapping up our investigation on your report of November One. If you'd like a hard copy of the final paperwork, give me a call. We've documented the damage to your vehicle for your insurance company."

The sixth and final message was from Keith Lewis. "Where are you? I came by your shop and then I called your home number. Your roommate said you'd gone out of town. We've got less than a week to go here. Call me-now."

I sprinted up Front Street, my anxiety level tipping into the red zone. The message from the creepy guy, me standing up Hatch on his day off, and Keith's continuing grumpiness made my homecoming feel less than welcome. The only good news was my car was right where I'd left it in the alley behind my shop. It appeared unscathed, so I didn't stop to check it over. Maybe subconsciously I wasn't prepared to deal with any more creepiness, especially now that it was getting late and the alley was in deep shadow. I walked right by, not even stopping to put my overnight bag in the trunk, and headed for the stairs.

In the soft glow of the setting sun I noticed something shiny and yellow hanging on the doorknob to my shop even before I started up the steps. Halfway up, I could tell it was a little Chinese silk pouch with a drawstring closure. Many of the local jewelers use them as gift bags when you buy a necklace or a pair of earrings.

Out of reflex I looked up and down the street hoping to catch sight of someone. A pang of guilt caught in my chest. Had Hatch brought me a peace offering for his recent lack of attention? Or maybe Keith and Nicole felt bad about their rude dismissal of my concerns about Crystal. Whoever it was, it lifted my mood to come upon an unexpected treasure. I shifted my overnight bag to the other shoulder and bounded up the last few stairs.

I carefully unwound the drawstring from around the door knob. The pouch was feather-light. I fingered the contents through the smooth silk. There was too much in there for it to be earrings or a simple gold chain. I imagined a shell necklace or maybe a coral bracelet. I don't wear much jewelry, but when I do, I prefer organic stuff-like shells or clay beads. Only Hatch would know that.

I unlocked the door and went inside. The room smelled like I'd left an egg salad sandwich on the window ledge for three days, but a quick scan of the room didn't turn up any misplaced foodstuffs. I dumped my overnight bag and the gift pouch on the desk and rummaged around for a can of tropical breeze-scented air freshener.

Outside, the light was failing so I flicked on lights as I sprayed. The yellow silk pouch gleamed in the glow of my desk lamp. I couldn't take it any longer. I pulled the puckered silk open along the drawstring.

Inside I saw a jumble of shells, but they didn't appear to be strung. I tipped the pouch and poured the contents into my palm. It wasn't shells. When I recognized what I was holding, I gasped and dumped it all out on the desk.

They were human fingernails. Entire nails, not just cuttings. They weren't bloody or torn so I figured they must be fake-probably acrylic. Each had hot pink polish and a tiny palm tree decal. I'd seen them before when Nicole had proudly shown off the matching mani-pedi's she and her bridesmaids had gotten the day of the bachelorette party.

My pulse thumped in my neck as I dialed the phone.

"Maui Police Department. Do you have an emergency?"

"No, I need to speak to Detective Wong. This is Pali Moon, returning his call."

"Please hold while I transfer your call." There was a click and then an earnest-sounding male voice came on to scold callers about the dangers of drinking and driving. After half a minute, he was cut off mid-sentence.

"Detective Wong here."

"Hello, Detective. It's Pali Moon. I've got something you need to see."

"Another donation for 'Locks of Love', Ms. Moon?" I heard the chuckle in his voice, but I let it go because once he realized why I'd called he'd be apologizing. He'd be hard-pressed to sell his Halloween prank theory now.

"No, what I've got here is even more disturbing."

"Before we waste my time and yours, why don't you just tell me what you're talking about."

"Fingernails."

"Fingernails? I'm afraid I'm not following you, Ms. Moon."

"I've got the missing girl's-I mean, young woman's-fingernails. They were left at my shop door while I was over in O'ahu."

I waited while he took a moment to connect the dots.

"Ms. Moon, I'm afraid I'm still not following you."

"What's to follow? Remember I told you about that bridesmaid who went missing on Halloween? Well, now we've got her hair and her fingernails. And besides that, I also have a recorded voicemail from a creepy guy who's threatening me."

"Where are you right now, Ms. Moon?"

"At my shop in Lahaina. I'm upstairs, above Hargrove's, the restaurant on the corner of-"

"I know where Hargrove's is, Ms. Moon. Stay right there. I'll be down within the hour."

So I had an hour to kill. I plucked up the fingernails and laid them out in order, like two phantom hands with the flesh missing. All fingers and thumbs were present and accounted for. I scooped them up and poured them back into the pouch. Then I listened to the four messages on the landline phone in my shop. Each was a check-in call from a vendor-the Plantation Inn confirming the reception date, Keahou confirming the cake delivery, the gal making the bridesmaids' leis, and finally, my roommate Steve announcing he was prepared for the photo shoot on Saturday.

I called Steve on our home phone. When he didn't answer, I left a message telling him I'd made it back to Maui but I had a few things to deal with at the shop and I wouldn't be home for awhile. I thought about calling Hatch but decided against it. I didn't want to get into a long-winded discussion of my trip to O'ahu and then have Wong show up in the middle of it.

Finally, I called Keith but he didn't pick up. I left a message asking if he and Nicole could meet me at my shop at eleven o'clock the next morning. We'd go over the wedding schedule and discuss any last-minute concerns. I tried to sound as nonchalant as one can while staring at a pouch containing the ripped-off fingernails of a missing bridesmaid.

Wong made it in forty minutes. He managed to find the back stairs in the pitch black alley and was rapping on my shop door as I came out of the restroom.

I turned the latch and let him in. "Sorry I didn't leave the door open. I was so creeped out by the fingernails I locked up before going to the bathroom. Have you been waiting long?"

"Just got here." He looked around the cramped space. "This isn't as nice as your place up in Pa'ia."

I said nothing. To my knowledge he'd never been in my old shop on Baldwin Avenue. But Steve had told me Wong was the consummate busybody. Rumor has it on his time off Wong checks out people, places and things all over the island like a king checking the nether reaches of his kingdom. Steve said behind his back people refer to the detective as 'Peeping Wong'."

"Well, this is the best I can do for shop space right now," I said. "And it looks like I may be here even longer than I'd hoped. The Mo'olelo Society has decided to turn my old shop into a visitor center."

He nodded as if it was old news.

He pointed to the desk phone. "May I listen to the voicemail you reported?"

I walked over and picked up the receiver before realizing the sinister voicemail wasn't on my shop phone, it was on my cell.

"It's in there-on my cell phone," I said, pointing to my overnight bag.

Wong waggled his finger in a 'bring it here' gesture.

I rummaged through my bag for the phone and when I looked up, Wong's eyes were darting around the room, taking in everything.

"Nothing much escapes you, does it?" I said.

He shot me a half-smile, as if he wasn't sure if I'd meant it as a compliment or criticism.

I punched in my voicemail number and entered my code. When the robot lady announced the time of the creep's incoming message, I passed the phone over to Wong.

He put the phone to his ear and I waited while the message played.

"What was the caller referring to-about being 'serious'?" said the detective. "Maybe it's a supplier you've forgotten to pay? Or maybe a potential wedding client? I don't hear the threat you claim to be hearing, Ms. Moon."

"The guy said I'd be sorry-that sure sounds like a threat to me."

"Well, maybe you'd be sorry to miss out on some new business. Or maybe it's a florist who wants to tell you about a great deal on orchids." He smiled a 'there, there, little missy' kind of smile and I shot him some stink eye.

"Okay, if it would make you feel better, I'll run the number through our database and see what comes up." He listened to the message again, jotted something down in a little notebook he pulled from his shirt pocket, and then handed the phone back to me. "If it turns out to be anything significant, I'll let you know."

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I reached over and picked up the silk pouch from the desk top and silently held it out to him.

He waved it off and pulled two latex gloves from his pants pocket. He snapped them on and took the pouch from me. Then he shook the fingernails into his open right hand. Ha! I thought, as I watched him examine the nails. He's left-handed. Wong's not the only one with an eye for detail.

"Okay, Ms. Moon, I'll take these in and see what we come up with. Until then, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this to yourself."

"No problem."

Even though he'd been stingy with an apology for blowing me off last Thursday, his attitude change was reward enough. He returned the fingernails to the pouch and slipped it into a small plastic evidence bag he'd pulled from another pocket of his pants. He borrowed a black marker pen from my desk and wrote the date and time at the top of the bag. Finally he wrote Lets Get M, Lahaina/P. Moon on a large white square in the middle of the bag. I couldn't help but be impressed he remembered my business name, even though he shortened it and he left out the apostrophe in Let's.

When he finally left, my anxiety level dropped a notch with each of his footfalls on the outside stairs. I worked my jaw back and forth a couple of times to loosen it up. My concern over Crystal's welfare had been a heavy burden I was happy to hand off. The authorities had what they needed to start looking for her, freeing me up to concentrate on the task at hand: Keith and Nicole's fast-approaching Saturday wedding.

I locked up and skipped down the stairs feeling ten pounds lighter.

CHAPTER 12.

It was a little after eight when Wong left-not too late to call Hatch even on a night before he'd be going back on shift. Not even too late to drop by if he was around. I wanted to share my cheerful mood after being relieved of the Crystal dilemma.

Hatch picked up on his cell number after two rings.

"Hey, are you home?" I said.

"Yep, I gotta go to work tomorrow morning." His voice had an edge I hadn't noticed before.