THE MYSTERY
The surf rose in the night. Lu could tell the minute she woke up and heard the roar. Summer surf favored the south side of the island, but every now and then, if there was enough west in it, a swell snuck through. Probably a result of yesterday’s storm. Lu and Joni had plans to swim early, before heading up mauka to Parker Ranch for horseback riding and a barbecue. It had been forever since Lu had been to Waimea and she could hardly wait.
“Lovey dove, if I don’t show up at your door at six o’clock, come drag my lazy ass out of bed,” Joni had said.
Lu put on her suit and braided her thick hair down her back. She looked in the mirror at her puffy eyes and noticed a swollen red bite on her forehead, possibly from a scorpion. Scorpions thrived in the dry terrain here, making homes in coconut fronds or rock walls. You always checked your shoes or hat or whatever before putting them on. Served her right for falling asleep in the sand.
Joni was late, and Lu went onto the lānai to wait. With waves like this, they wouldn’t be able to swim out and look for manta rays, but they could at least dip. Maybe even bodysurf if it wasn’t too big. After about ten minutes, she decided to follow Joni’s orders. She climbed the steps to the top floor and knocked softly. There was no answer. Not wanting to wake the whole floor, she eventually gave up and made her way to the beach.
A thick blanket of clouds brought dead calm to the air. It was already sticky and warm. No sign of the sun. Lu didn’t find Joni on the beach, either. She swam in the middle of the bay. The water had come halfway up the beach in the night. Something about the morning felt off-kilter, but she couldn’t put a finger on it.
Back in the room, she sat down and tried to write. Nothing at all wanted to come out and it felt like wringing water from a stone. While her Kona coffee percolated, she willed ideas to pour forth. She read through her notes on the fishing fiasco, and wrote two sentences. Scratched those out and wrote another. Pretty soon, the page was covered in black lines.
The hotel was a brilliant feat of imagination. An Oceanic art museum. A staff full of aloha. Even the leaves and the flowers welcomed you. Wealthy people would flock here for years to come. The current guest list was proof of that. But what Lu realized was that maybe Russi had been right; it was the people behind the hotel who she was most interested in. She thought about Jerry and Sunny. But even more than that, she was drawn to Matteo Russi himself. American icon, shell-shocked veteran with a complicated story waiting to be told. War heroes had been celebrated for their bravery, but what about twenty years later? How were they faring? Sunset magazine was not the place for that kind of story. But that was what she wanted to write.
The phone rang, startling her.
“Hello?”
“Miss Freitas, it’s Stanley. Is Joni there with you by any chance?”
“No. We were supposed to swim, but she never showed up. I came up and knocked on her door, but she didn’t answer, so I went without her.”
Again.
“So, you haven’t seen her this morning?” he repeated.
“Nope.”
The line went dead. Twenty minutes later, it rang again.
It was Russi. “Meet me in the lobby.”
Lu looked at the clock. In half an hour, they were supposed to leave for Waimea. She wanted to flesh out this story more. “I’ll be down at ten.”
“You might want to come now.”
She threw on her jeans, a plaid shirt and cowboy boots and ran down the stairs. Russi was leaning on the railing eating a banana and watching two women in swimsuits and heels stroll by below.
“What’s up?” she said.
He turned. “Whoa, cowboy. What happened to your face?”
“I fell asleep on the beach after our game,” she said, fighting the urge to scratch.
He glanced around, but no one was paying them any attention. “So, I was down here getting the paper and I heard Stanley Welch arguing with the front desk lady about getting a key to Joni’s room. When she told him they don’t give out keys, he got all worked up, saying she’s missing. The lady said she’d send someone up to check on Joni.”
Lu’s immediate thoughts were about Joni, but a part of her also wondered why Russi would let her in on this. The more time she spent with him, the more he surprised her.
He went on. “I waited down here. When the bellman came back, I heard him tell the lady that Joni’s stuff was there and to let Rockefeller know.”
“She’s probably out for a walk,” Lu said, while at the same time feeling a thread of apprehension loop around her.
“Stanley said he looked everywhere.”
“On the whole property? I doubt that. She could have hiked down to Hapuna, or up toward Spencer.”
“Joni’s not the kind of girl to go off hiking by herself. She needs people around her. Haven’t you noticed that?” he said.
“How do you suddenly know so much about Joni?” Lu asked.
He looked down at blue tile. “We go back a ways.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I know her enough to know that,” he said.
An understanding came over Lu. “You and Joni dated, didn’t you?” With looks like his, it was no surprise women threw themselves his way, but somehow Joni did not seem his type. Way too young and moody. But what did she know?
“Date is not the right word.”
“Screwed?”
He flinched. “I took her out a few times when she came to New York. We met at a dinner and she and I were the only two single people there.”
A moment later, Mr. Rockefeller came down the steps. He, too, was dressed in his finest paniolo attire—faded jeans, blue checkered shirt and a tall Stetson. He beelined to a woman at the front desk and exchanged a few words. Russi approached, Lu right behind him.
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear Stanley earlier. Has Miss Diaz been located yet?” Russi asked.
LSR looked pained. “I think the man might be making a mountain out of a molehill. He seems a bit—how should I say it—overbearing. But to be sure, I’ll alert Mr. Buttonwood to put out feelers.”
He was right about Stanley, but Lu still felt uneasy. “I know she was looking forward to going up the mountain. She told me she loves horses. She knows to be here at ten,” she said.
“We’ll regroup then,” Mr. Rockefeller said, waving to one of his security guards.
She thought about the couple in the water. Could the woman have been Joni? Maybe she was holed up in the room with some unknown male guest. It wouldn’t be out of the question. Though, so far, Lu hadn’t seen any solo men. Not that she went around looking, but as an unattached woman, you noticed these things.
Russi seemed to share her concern, because he said, “Let’s do a sweep before we go. You take the point and the beach, and I’ll take the hotel.”
They split up, and Lu passed the Dining Pavilion and walked down the long path toward the point, which then hairpinned back down to the north end of the bay. She scanned the rocks, the beach and the water. Only a couple people were standing in the shore break, looking unsure about jumping in. A strong rip tore up the middle of the bay.
On the beach, she rolled up her jeans and hurried across the sand, scanning for towels or shoes or some kind of sign that Joni might have been there. But there was nothing, only scattered coral, a small cowrie and a few twisted pieces of driftwood. Coming back from the far end, she walked along the berm. Sandy grass and trees went back from the beach to a cliffy area covered in kiawe. Nothing.
Russi was waiting for her in front of the Dining Pavilion. “If she’s here, she’s in one of the rooms. Possibly passed out from an all-nighter,” he said.
“What if she left without telling anyone?”
“With all her stuff in the room? I doubt it. If you haven’t noticed, Joni is bright and charming, but she’s a lost soul,” he said.
“I sensed something.”
“I felt for her, you know? Fame like she had couldn’t be easy, especially at her age. She told me what a messed-up childhood she had. She immigrated from Tijuana—drunk mom, and a bunch of brothers who lived on the wild side. She dropped out of school and hit the road just to escape. Her and her guitar.”
“Wow, so you did spend some time with her,” Lu said.
“Joni was high as a kite the first night I met her. Told me her whole life story under an Ansel Adams photograph. More than I wanted to know, really. She was lucky I didn’t print any of it, but she told me I could if I wanted to.”
So he did have a heart.
“I know. I had the same feeling with her. Like I wanted to protect her,” she said.
“Seems like she was on a path of self-destruction,” Russi said.
“Do you think she would have done something stupid?” Lu said, looking at the beach again and half expecting to see Joni appear.
“I don’t know, but I have a bad feeling,” he said, lifting up his camera and snapping a shot of Lu, right in her face.
“What was that for?” she said.
“Documenting what I’m guessing is going to be a big story.”
“Why me?”
“Your expression says it all. I don’t know that I can explain it. Years of studying people. That’s what it takes. And when the moment moves me, I shoot away.”
In the lobby, the group assembled. Big Joe and the senator both had the same cowboy hat on, and the wives had not a hair out of place. Mrs. Carlsmith was the only one in a dress.
“I leave the hard stuff to the men. Give me a beach towel and a book any day. I’m just going along for the ride,” she said with a sweet smile.
Somehow, word had spread that Joni Diaz was missing. Mrs. Rockefeller milled about, assuring them that LSR had it handled. Someone was going door to door to all the rooms inquiring. Trucks were lined up outside to take the group up the hill, but they were waiting on Mr. Rockefeller. Some on wooden benches in the circle, others in the lobby. You could sense the impatience as the time went by. Joni was infringing on their adventure. How rude of her.
“It feels wrong to leave when a member of our group is missing,” Lu said to Russi, off to the side.
“It’s gonna be interesting to see how this all plays out.”
Ten minutes later, Mr. Buttonwood came around and informed them that Mr. Rockefeller would not be accompanying the group to Parker Ranch. “Miss Diaz’s whereabouts are still unknown and he needs to tend to the situation.”
Lu turned to Russi. “I’m staying.”
He seemed to be weighing what to do, then said, “We’ll stay here and do what we can to help.”
Lu wanted to hug him.
“I’m afraid there’s not much any of you can do right now. I suggest you all go to the ranch. If she’s still missing when you come back, then we’ll sound the alarms.”
Mrs. Rockefeller, bless her heart, said, “I should think that those who want to go should go, and those who want to stay, stay. Laurance will be here.”
No one else knew Joni personally, so though they expressed concern, they all piled into the trucks and left.
“Now what?” Lu asked.
“We go find her manager, and get his take.”
Though it was still morning, they found Stanley down at the beach bar gesturing wildly as he spoke to Jerry. “Theoretically, how far could someone go up and down this coast by foot?”
Jerry, who was slicing chilled lemons, calmly said, “There are old Hawaiian trails that go pretty much around the whole island—or used to, at least. But it’s not easy going. Between the lava, the kiawe thorns and the sun, most people don’t get too far.”
Jerry greeted them, but Stanley kept talking. You could hear the desperation in his voice. “What about the water? If you got swept out, where would you end up? Joni could swim, but she was no Olympian.”
Jerry looked out at the water. “Right now, it’s running straight out to sea. After that, it all depends on the tide and the wind and the current. Every day is different out there.”
Stanley seemed to just notice Lu and Russi. “How come you two are still here?”
“We wanted to see if we could help,” Lu said.
Russi pulled out a stool and sat. “Where do you think Miss Diaz is?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be down here picking this guy’s brain, would I now?” Stanley said, blowing a greasy lock of hair off his forehead.
“You knew her better than any of us. Do you think she’d have just left without telling anyone?” Lu asked.
“You never know with Joni, but I saw her last night before she went to bed. We had a glass of brandy together in her room. She was already in her robe. Said she was tired from the long day, and I left. We had plans for coffee this morning after her swim with you,” he said, eyeing Lu.
“So, let me rephrase my question. Are you worried that Miss Diaz has accidentally gotten into trouble—maybe out in the water? Do you think she left the premises on purpose, or do you think she may have done something stupid?” Russi said.
Stanley looked pissed all of the sudden. “Now hang on. The last bloody thing we need is the press all over this. I’m talking to you two as friends of Miss Diaz. You don’t have my permission to print any of this. Not a word.”
Lu had never been in a position like this, where she was actually part of the story, not just the one writing about it.
“No one here is going to jump the gun, so don’t worry about that. Miss Freitas and I just want to help. But if Joni is genuinely missing, a story will come out whether you like it or not. So, prepare yourself,” Russi said.
Stanley sat on the stool next to Russi, looking thin and deflated. “You two had a thing. You weren’t together last night, were you?” He was a small man with a thin mustache and a big nose. He wore bell-bottoms and gold-rimmed glasses. He also worshipped Joni to a fault.
“Negative. I was playing chess with Miss Freitas here.”
Lu figured it was time to mention the couple in the water. “After we played, I went for a walk on the beach. It was such a nice night I lay down to look at the stars and ended up falling asleep. When I woke up, I heard a man and a woman’s voices. They were in the water.”
Stanley glared at Russi. “Maybe that’s why she wanted me out. You sure you two didn’t go for a midnight swim?”
“Look, man, I took Joni out a couple years ago, a couple of times. That’s it.”
Lu stuck up for him. “Mr. Russi does not swim. So, it wouldn’t have been him. It was probably just some young newlyweds, but I figured I’d mention it, in case.”
In case what?
“We should see what’s missing from her room. Shoes, purse, that kind of thing. That would help determine where we should look,” Russi said.
Stanley looked doubtful. “If they’ll let us.”
Uncle Jerry chimed in. “If I were you, I’d send a team out to search up and down the coast. If you get off the trail in places, it can be easy to get turned around, especially if you’re in the kiawe.”
Lu remembered crawling around with her cousins hunting for petroglyphs. There were a whole bunch scattered up and down the coast, old Hawaiian carvings in the pahoehoe—the smooth lava. Canoes and fishhooks and men holding paddles, or geometric patterns and dots and circles that were said to commemorate births and other life events. The petroglyph field near Puako was hard to find and she recalled it being sweltering and full of bees. Kiawe thorns had poked through her shoes in many places, and once there, all she’d wanted to do was go jump in the ocean. Pretty soon, they realized they were going in circles, and it felt like hours before they found their way out.
LSR was in his office with Mr. Buttonwood and Keith Kanuha, head of security. As soon as he saw Lu, he waved them all in.
“Folks, I heard you had stayed behind. That’s good of you. I need you keep this all private until we either find Miss Diaz or have to call in the police. Preferably the former,” he said.
“She’ll turn up. They always do,” said Mr. Buttonwood, looking smug.
Lu felt like hitting him. “We can’t assume that.”
“Have you checked the airport? In case she decided to hightail it out of here for some reason,” Russi said.
“We did. They haven’t seen her. Nor did she book a flight.”
Stanley crossed his arms over his chest. “We need to send out a search party ASAP.”
“Do any of you have insight into what may have caused her to disappear? It would be helpful to know what kind of frame of mind she was in,” Mr. Rockefeller asked.
“Do we think she’d try and off herself? That’s what you mean, isn’t it?” Stanley said.
“I didn’t say that, but we may as well put everything on the table.”
They all looked to Stanley, who suddenly seemed jumpy and twitchy. “I’m not getting into her personal stuff, but I would not put it past her to do something rash. Joni could be impulsive, especially when under the influence.”
Under the influence of what, was the question.
LSR stood up and walked over to a big aerial photo on the wall of the whole area. “Do you want to search first and then call the police if we don’t find her? Or call the police now? I’d rather be safe than sorry, but it’s your call.”
“Search, then call,” Stanley said.