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WHEN KAYCEE STILL HADN’T made an appearance in my backyard an hour later, I moved from annoyance to worry and decided to call her. But when I went out to the back lanai where the reception is better, I spotted her on the other end of the yard, behind the rental unit. Fair enough, she was supposed to be looking after both properties. Although it struck me that since the new tenants had moved in, she seemed to spend a lot more time on their side of the lot.
When she saw me walking toward her, she put down the long-handled implement she had been poking into the trees.
“Eh professor,” she said.
“Aren’t you hot?” I asked. She was wearing a hoodie, with the hood fastened so tightly that only her eyes and nose were visible. Kaycee was in her twenties but still cute in the way that babies are cute, with plump cheeks and round, dark eyes.
Kaycee shrugged.
“The little fire ants like drop down the back of your neck, that’s why.”
“Oh. Is it better to come by when it’s cooler?”
“Nah, I’m fine.”
“Okay. Well. Do you think you’ll be able to get to the other part of the hedge today?”
A single hedge ran along the back of the property, separating the backyards of 25 Uakoko Street (where Donnie and I lived) and 25b (the rental unit) from the cemetery beyond. The hedge behind the rental unit was neatly-trimmed and free of weeds. Our side, by contrast, looked like it had gone on a three-day bender.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Kaycee was a Jandista (a fan of Jandie Brand) so I could understand why she’d linger close to Jandie’s house, trimming leaves while hoping to catch a glimpse of her idol.
“Sure, I’ll get to it today. Eh,” She cleared her throat and looked around. “The wife went missing or what?”
“Not that I know of. But if you see anything out of place, please let me know.”
“Okay Professor, will do. Eh, no worries, I’m gonna get to the other side today, even ‘em up, make ‘em look nice, yeah?”
When I got inside, Emma was sitting at the dining table with her laptop open, drinking wine out of a mug and reading the news.
“More rain coming,” she said. “That’s not gonna be good. Not gonna be able to paddle for a while.”
“Why not?”
“A bunch of cesspools are gonna overflow and it’s all gonna run into the ocean. All the farm runoff too.”
“Thank you for reminding me why I never go into the ocean.”
“We’ll get you out there one of these days.”
“Nope.”
“Oh, I emailed Pat about da kine. Cartoon guy.”
“Heard back?” I asked.
“Not yet. I gotta finish up this report, and get some grading done, and then I’m done for the day. I know, I’m a heathen for working on Sunday.”
I tidied up the kitchen and then folded laundry until Emma was done. Laundry doesn’t count as work in my mind, because I don’t get paid to do it.
“Finally.” Emma closed her laptop and pushed up from the couch. “Time for happy hour.”
“What was taking so long?” I opened a new bottle of wine (my cheap and cheerful red blend, not Donnie’s fancy Sangiovese) and filled two repurposed furikake jars.
“Stupid online class. Right on,” Emma said as she took a small jar. “You got the Mahina stemware.”
“Yeah, I don’t see the point of an actual stem on your glass,” I said. “It just makes it more prone to tip over.”
“Want to go outside?” Emma said. “I’ve been indoors all day.”
“Okay. Let me check and make sure Kaycee’s finished up.”
“Why?”
“I told her to work on the whole hedge and not just the part near the rental unit. I don’t want her to think I’m checking up on her or don’t trust her to do her job properly.”
“You don’t trust anyone to do their job properly,” Emma said.
The hedge was evenly trimmed, giving Emma and me a clear view into the cemetery from the back lanai. The twilight had an unusual reddish tinge to it. The air hung close and heavy. I felt mosquitos lurking nearby, sniffing for a gap in the repellent I’d doused myself in.
“Your hedge looks good,” Emma said. “Kaycee does good work, yeah?”
“Once you can get her to stop lingering around hoping to catch a glimpse of her idol.”
“Give her a break, Molly. It’s not like we get a lot of celebrities in Mahina.”
“Conform in Speech, and Dress and Thought,” I said, “And you’ll Be Promoted When You Ought.”
“What is that from?” Emma asked.
“Safety Worm. Tedd Ladd’s cartoon character,” I said. “Safety Worm is like an amoral Jiminy Cricket for careerist office workers. There’s a second line. Speak the Truth and Have Your Say, and You’ll Get Two Weeks’ Severance Pay. Wow, I hadn’t thought of that in years. But it came right back. It’s been lurking in my subconscious this whole time.”
“Catchy,” Emma said. “You should put that in your email signature. It would be perfect for you College of Commerce guys.”
“Do people even get severance pay anymore?”
“You okay?” Emma asked.
“Mr. Henriques and Kaycee have both noticed Jandie’s gone,” I said. “It’s not just me.”
“How did the husband seem when you talked to him?” Emma asked. “Did he seem nervous or like he had a guilty conscience?”
“Not at all. He seemed smug and dismissive.”
“He goes out in the middle of a storm, comes home by himself, hoses off the car, no trace of the wife,” Emma said.
“He claimed she was inside,” I said. “Or implied it, anyway.”
“Uh huh. Do you believe him?” Emma asked.
“Emma, I don’t want to get sucked into some Rear Window-type voyeuristic obsession with my renters.”
“In Rear Window, there was an actual murder,” Emma reminded me.
“He said she wasn’t feeling well. She has ‘female trouble’ apparently.”
“Couldn’t ask for a better opening,” Emma said. “We’re female.”
“It’s already dark. I don’t want to do anything dumb after dark.”
“Tomorrow then,” Emma said.
“Fine.”