Tiki Beach Episode 2: A sudden crisis

What could Tiki know that the humans don't?

Dear readers! I started writing this cozy mystery series during the pandemic, craving something lighter and an imaginary tiny town on Maui whose every feature I could control. Yes, I know that reveals my state of mind at the time—and I regret nothing about the fun and joy the Paradise Crime Cozy Mysteries have brought me and many thousands of readers ever since. You can check them out at my website if interested in the previous volumes.

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Meanwhile, let me know what you think of this next chapter, and DOn’T Forget to Hit The ❤️:

Episode 2: "Those 'certain parties' who want to stop my legacy from going forward, can pound sand." Pearl's voice held steel beneath its refined surface. "I have friends in interesting places, yeah? The governor himself knows about this plan and approves of it.”

“As do we all, of course, Pearl,” Edith said, in her best lawyerly voice.

“And we’ve talked so much about how to incorporate the endemic plants into your traditional Japanese tea garden vision,” Josie added. “It’s a unique idea.”

“And I love this, too,” Ilima Kaihale chimed in, adjusting the kukui nut lei she wore over her kimono. Not only was Ilima my hot pilot boyfriend Keone’s mother, she was a powerful kumu (teacher) of various Hawaiian cultural arts and practices and well known on the island. “It’s very generous of you to gift Ohia with your property, rather than keeping it for your family.”

“Oh, well.” Pearl flapped a be-ringed hand. “My family is all gone but for a nephew who lives in Honolulu and does well enough for himself not to need anything from me.”

“Then who are these… ‘certain parties’ who might object to your bequest?” I asked. My investigator ‘spidey sense’ was tingling. A valuable estate like this being donated to the public was bound to put someone’s undies in a bunch.

Pearl sniffed and poured herself another cup of tea. “I prefer not to speak of such things at this celebration.”

The sun had slipped lower, painting the ocean in shades of amber and rose as Pearl lifted her cup. The blueprints crinkled in the salt breeze, tugging at the the fragile porcelain anchors holding down each corner.

Tiki leapt suddenly onto the table, hissing, her tail bottlebrush-thick and her one ear pasted back. “Tiki!” I exclaimed.

I reached for her but the cat dodged, weaving between the tea bowls with uncharacteristic clumsiness until she Tiki knocked into Pearl's teapot—the one with the gold repairs tracing its history. Pearl’s fresh tea splashed across the plans as her tail lashed. The cat stood front of our hostess and yowled, a sound I’d never heard her make before. She swiped at the tea bowl Pearl held, then darted off the table to leap into the deepening shadows beyond the lanai.

"I'll get towels," I said quickly. Pearl set down her cup and her hand shot out, gripping my wrist with surprising strength.

"Leave it," the older woman said, her eyes following Tiki's retreat. "Some things must run their course.”

Our hostess returned her attention to the architectural plans, which we were all dabbing at with our napkins—except me, of course, because my napkin was already in use holding up the pastries in my bra.

I got up to look for Tiki in the banana trees lining the deck as Kawika appeared with a pile of dishtowels. Pearl focused on the dry spot on the map in front of her. "The meditation garden will..." She blinked rapidly, the orchids on her headdress swaying. "Will be..."

I hurried to her side, noticing the sheen of sweat on Pearl's upper lip, how her cheeks had gone pale beneath her makeup. "Pearl?" I reached for her, but before I could make contact, Pearl's eyes rolled back. She slumped sideways, taking the antique teapot with her as she fell out of her low chair. “Pearl!” I lunged forward, barely managing to catch her head before it hit the teak flooring.

The woman's frail body went rigid, then began to jerk and tremble—some kind of convulsion. A stroke? Porcelain shattered somewhere behind us as I held her.

"Call 911!" I yelled to Kawika, whose eyes were wide with alarm. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, but Edith already had hers out and was speaking loudly into it.

“Oh, Ms. Pearl!” Kawika’s slippers slapped against the lanai as he rushed to help. His hands shook as he helped me roll Pearl onto her side and hold her in place.

Edith’s voice cut through the chaos, clear and steady as she spoke to the dispatcher, but when I glanced up and met her eyes, her free hand clutched her Kwan Yin pendant, the knuckles white with tension.

"Stay with us, Ms. Pearl. Stay with us,” Kawika said, patting her back, rubbing her cold hands. I monitored Pearl's pulse with two fingers on her tiny wrist—it was thready and erratic under her papery skin.

When the trembling stopped, I checked for breathing; but Pearl’s chest had gone still. Her pulse had gone to nothing. "Starting CPR!"

My training took over and I did the compressions, leaving the breathing part to Kawika. We could keep going longer that way.

Someone sobbed and the gathered Red Hats formed a circle of crimson toppers and worry around Kawika and I as we took turns working on Pearl. The scent of spilled tea mixed with the orchids that had shaken loose from Pearl's hat, now lying crushed nearby.

Five compressions. Pearl’s ribcage so dangerously frail I was afraid to press too hard lest I break her delicate bones.

Kawika breathed for her, his large frame dwarfing hers as he gently exhaled into her slack mouth.

Compressions.

Breathing.

Each second stretched into the next, thick as saltwater taffy being pulled and just as slowly elastic. In the distance, ambulance sirens’ mournful cry was the promise of relief.

A flash of tortoiseshell fur caught my peripheral vision. Tiki had returned. She crouched near the spreading puddle of tea around the broken pot, pawing at the scattered leaves. The cat's ears lay flat against her skull, and she made a low growl in her throat that raised the hair on my neck.

"Come on, Pearl. Hang in there.” My back and shoulders burned with effort; I was getting ready to trade places with Kawika when the paramedics burst onto the lanai in a flood of urgency and equipment, shouldering us aside.

As they worked on Pearl, I found my gaze drawn back to those spilled tea leaves—but Tiki had vanished again. Hopefully she’d find her way home.

The waves kept their rhythm off in the distance, indifferent to the drama unfolding above the tideline. But their whisper now seemed to carry a different word: hurry.

The paramedics worked efficiently around Pearl's still form while I helped Kawika clear away the remaining tea things. On impulse, I scooped up a sample of the spilled tea leaves from Pearl’s pot, and took them inside the house. I found a ziplock bag and put them inside, wondering why I felt so compelled to do so.

Maybe it was because of Tiki’s odd behavior. The cat sure seemed to think there was something wrong with the tea, and she’d prevented Pearl drinking any more of it.

Back outside, someone had switched on the lanai lights, and the Japanese lanterns Pearl had strung for ambiance now seemed oddly festive against the gravity of the moment.

“I think we’ve got her stable enough to move,” one of the EMTs said, holding up an IV bag. “Bring the gurney!”

His partner took off at a run, and I heard the two remaining talking about calling a chopper to take Pearl to Oahu’s more intensive care unit.

The Red Hat ladies had gone back inside the house, and I joined them as Pearl was wheeled through the room. Edith, in full attorney mode, trotted after them providing insurance and contact information.

I paused to let the cavalcade go by. Near me, Opal dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief while as Josie patted her shoulder. Clara shook her head sadly. “I hope she pulls out of this.”

“We all do. And at least she was with friends," Josie murmured. "Doing what she loved. Maybe the excitement was too much.”

Kawika brought in a large tray containing the tea things, and Josie waved him down. “Let me deal with those. You get a hospital bag together for Pearl, please.”

“Good idea,” Kawika said, and surrendered the tray. Josie gathered the special implements with shaking hands, carrying them toward the sink. I hurried to help her. We ran a sinkful of warm, sudsy water, and Josie carefully placed each piece into the deep washtub. "I'll just put these—wait a minute."

"Hmm?" I glanced up, trying to shake off the surreal feeling that Pearl would roll up in her fancy stand-in wheelchair at any second, cracking one of her sly jokes.

“Pearl’s special tea blend is missing." Josie held up a lacquered tea caddy. "The one she was so excited about serving today. She keeps it in this, and serves it with her grandmother's ceremonial scoop."

I frowned, but was distracted by the red-and-blue lights from end of Pearl's driveway flashing nonstop emergency warnings across the ceiling. Soon the loud wail of the siren as they departed drowned out any further discussion.

Pearl was on her way—hopefully to a level of care that could avert tragedy.

Once the ambulance was gone, I fumbled my phone out of the kimono’s pocket.

My boyfriend Keone, as a pilot, was privy to the comings and goings at the airport. He’d know if the helicopter the EMTs had ordered was taking Pearl to Maui’s local hospital or over to the intensive care specialists on Oahu.

“What’s up, Trouble?” Keone’s warm voice saying my private nickname was enough to bring quick tears to my eyes—that’s how soft I was getting, a far cry from the tough Secret Service agent I’d been only a couple years ago.

“Trouble is right. Pearl Yamamoto had us over for a tea party and collapsed. Her symptoms seem like a possible stroke. Something neurological, though it could be a heart attack I guess. We did CPR until the EMTs took her away. They called for an air evacuation so they’ll be headed for the Hana Airport. Can you find out where they’re taking her? I’m hoping its Oahu.”

“Let me find out.” The phone went dead immediately.

I liked that about Keone. He never wasted time with personal reactions or unnecessary questions—he took confident action.

I sank onto a nearby stool, holding the phone cradled in my hands.

Josie turned from the sink, a frown between her brows. “I think there might have been someone else at the tea party with us,” she said. “Someone we didn’t see.”

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