Lana'i of the Tiger (The Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) (6 page)

He clasped his hands in a fist
at chest level. It freaked me out a little, since it’s the same stance we take
before a
kung fu
match.

I went on, “You see, we’re
having a small wedding ceremony in the greenhouse next weekend. Only a few
people, but the bride and groom want to be surrounded by living things, especially
orchids. They’re holding it inside because then they won’t have to worry about wind
or possible showers. And, it will be more private.”

“Married in a greenhouse?” He
squinted his eyes up so tight they nearly disappeared behind the wrinkles.

“Yes. I’ll need you to clean out
the orchid area and make a place for the wedding couple and the minister. And then
clear a spot for a handful of witnesses.”

“Clear a
spot
? What are
you saying?”

“Clean out an area big enough so
at least seven people can stand close to each other. Move the tables around,
take out the buckets and fertilizer. You know, make it look nice.”

“It’s a greenhouse—not nice.
They want nice, tell them to get married in there.” He pointed to the main
house.

Okay, I’d tried a simple
request. Now it was time to bring out the big guns.

“Darryl wants them to get
married in the greenhouse. He said to tell you it needs to be all ready by next
Thursday. He’ll call me Thursday night to make sure everything’s done.”

“Darryl say that?”

“Yes. That’s what Darryl wants.”

“Show me.”

For a second, I thought he
wanted me to produce proof that the order had come directly from his boss,
Darryl Fontaine. But when he started walking toward the greenhouse I realized
he’d taken me at my word and now he wanted me to show him what he had to do.

With the door closed, the
greenhouse felt like a steam bath. It was at least ten degrees warmer than the
outside air, and at least twice as humid. The primal odor of loam, fertilizer
and living things overwhelmed my sense of smell. I thought of that old cult movie,
Little Shop of Horrors
, where the giant plant yells,
Feed me
!

We wound our way up and down the
aisles of the greenhouse. As we passed hundreds of potted orchids, Mr. Shu
poked a finger in every third or fourth pot as we went.  The place was shadowy
and dirty and I couldn’t for the life of me imagine why Tyler had insisted on
being married in there. I come from hippie stock, and my best friend back home
uses the same tea bag at least three times before tossing it out, so I’m no
stranger to tree huggers and Earth Day. But even to me, this dimly-lit fecund
jungle seemed more like the setting for a slasher movie than a wedding.

The far end of the greenhouse
proved to be more promising, however. One corner was nearly empty of tables and
plants. Sunlight streamed through the glass ceiling with an almost
cathedral-like glow.

“How about in here?” I said.
“It’s got good light. If we moved a few of the nicer tables into the corner,
draped them with tablecloths and added a dozen blooming orchids, it could make
a really nice setting.”

Shu grunted in agreement.

I dismissed any notion of
providing chairs for the guests. First, it would call attention to the uneven
dirt floor. Second, I’d heard enough of Deedee’s take on things to know she’d
most certainly want to spend the least amount of time necessary in the
greenhouse. A quick ‘do you take this woman, do you take this man,’ and then
she’d be leading the march back to the house for the champagne toast.

 Shu walked me to the greenhouse
door and held it open for me. “My name not Mr. Shu,” he said as I passed him on
my way out.

“Pardon?” I said. “That’s the
name Ewa gave me for you—Ho Wing Shu.”

“That’s correct. But not Mr.
Shu. I am Mr. Ho.”

“Of course,” I said. I made a
short bow of contrition. “I should know that, Mr. Ho. I wasn’t thinking. In
your culture your family name comes first.”

“Yes, that is correct. My family
is Ho.” He flashed me a smile that would have sent a dentist into apoplexy. More
than a few teeth were missing, and the ones that were left were yellowed and
ground down to mere stubs.

“Very well, Mr. Ho. So, do you
think you can have the wedding area all ready by next Thursday?”

“Yes. Ready by tomorrow if you
want.”

“No, thank you. Next Thursday
will be soon enough.”

I went into the main house,
anxious to start making a list of everything I’d need to put on a charming
mini-wedding in less than a week.

***

Tyler didn’t return to the White
Orchid that Saturday night. I figured he and Deedee had stayed at her suite,
celebrating their newly-minted plan to get married on Lana’i. I imagined them
ordering a fancy room service dinner along with a perfectly-chilled bottle of
Dom Perignon.

When Tyler finally returned to
the White Orchid late on Sunday morning he was in high spirits.

“Hey, Penny,” he said as he
clattered through the front door. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call and let
you know I wouldn’t be coming in last night.”

“No problem. I wasn’t worried.
One of the perks of being a grown-up is you don’t have a curfew.”

“Deedee begged me to stay the
night. You know how that goes…” He grinned, then must have thought it might be
considered tactless to bring up the joy of sex to a recent widow. He started
back-peddling. “Uh, what I mean is, we kind of got, uh, well…”

“I know exactly how that goes,
and once again, congratulations on your upcoming wedding. It’s an exciting
time.”

He looked relieved.

“Speaking of which,” I said.
“Let’s go out to the greenhouse. I want to show you where you’re going to tie
the knot.”

I took him out back and showed
him how tidy Mr. Ho had already made the area where the ceremony would take
place.

“It’s not finished, because
he’ll be bunching a dozen blooming orchid plants back here,” I said as I
stepped into the corner. “Then I’m going to see about getting someone to build
a simple lathe and frame arched arbor that will go here.” I pointed to where
Tyler and Deedee would stand with the minister.

“The guests will assemble here.”
I indicated an eight foot square area. “If it’s okay with you, we’re not going
to provide chairs. The ceremony will only last about five or ten minutes.” I
watched his face as I said this, ready to offer Plan B if he didn’t like the
idea of everyone standing.

“Sounds good. And hopefully, with
everyone standing, it will keep the minister from rambling on,” he said.
“Nothing’s worse than a preacher who loves the sound of his own voice.”

“Since you mentioned it,” I said.
“Have you asked someone to officiate at the ceremony?”

“Uh, I thought you handled
that.”

“Sure. No problem. We hadn’t
discussed it, so I didn’t want to overstep in case you had someone special in
mind.”

“Nope. I don’t know a soul over here.”

I wanted to say,
welcome to
my world
, but I held my tongue.

“Okay, how about religious
preference? Would you rather I look for a Catholic, Protestant, Jewish…”

“Heck, I never even thought
about it. Does it have to be religious? Can’t we have a justice of the peace or
someone like that?”

Oh no. I didn’t know if they even
had a justice of the peace on Lana’i. Chances were, with only three thousand
people, everyone went to Maui or Honolulu if they needed a government official.

“Let me look into it. If you’re
okay with leaving it up to me, I’ll find you the best person available. Someone
who’s got the legal chops, but who’s also a person of few words.”

“Excellent. By the way, what
time should the guests arrive?”

“For a four o’clock ceremony,
I’d say tell them to be here no later than three-thirty. That way, if there are
any late-comers, we’ll still have a half-hour leeway.”

“Well, since they’re coming in
on my private jet, I don’t think they’ll have much of an excuse to be late,” he
said.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Did you
get your marriage license?”

“Hmm, can you get that for us
too?”

“No, that’s something you and
Deedee will have to handle yourselves.”

“I totally forgot about it,” he
said. “I suppose we can’t get one here on Lana’i.”

“I’m afraid not. Lana’i is in
Maui County. The county seat is in Wailuku, Maui, on the far side of the island
from here. You can go to Maui by ferry, but it’d be quicker to fly. Or you could
also get a license in Honolulu. Since it’s a state license it will be good anywhere
in the state.”

“Deedee’s getting a little bored
over here. She’d probably like to go to Honolulu. I’ll tell the pilot to file a
flight plan and we’ll fly over first thing tomorrow.”

“Good. Now, the final item we
need to discuss is how we’ll pay for everything.” I felt awkward asking this,
but I didn’t have a credit card or a bank account on Lana’i. And the meager
cash the feds doled out to me each week wasn’t enough to even buy a decent
wedding cake. 

“No problem. Let me get you a credit
card.” He dug around in his wallet and pulled out a black American Express
Card. “Just give it back when you’re done. I hardly use that one anyway.”

“Uh, I hope the local merchants
will accept this. I mean, it has your name on it.”

“Hang on. I’ll do what I do with
my assistant back home.” He took out a business card and scribbled something on
the back.

I looked at the card. It said,
Penny
Morton OK to use T Benson Amex card. Call if ?

“Great. You and Deedee go get
your marriage license tomorrow and after that’s taken care of, you won’t need
to worry about anything else. Oh, but you should plan to be here at least an
hour before the ceremony so the photographer can do the posed photos.”

“Thanks so much, Penny. You have
no idea how much I appreciate you doing all this.” He took my hand but instead
of shaking it, he gave it a little squeeze. “And I’m sure Deedee feels the
same.”

***

On Monday morning, Tyler left
the White Orchid at nine to pick up Deedee and head off to Honolulu for their
marriage license. I wondered if he was concerned about being recognized in the
big city, but I didn’t mention it. After all, he lived in Southern California.
He must have had of plenty of experience dodging the paparazzi.

I spent an hour on the bed and
breakfast’s phone line setting up the last of the essentials. I arranged for a justice
of the peace to fly over from Honolulu, and I hired a local photographer from
the Lana’i Times who claimed he was the best on the island. I called a video
guy from Honolulu to come over and record the ceremony. I didn’t tell him he’d
be shooting for a Hollywood big-shot. I figured that could go one of two ways.
Either he’d freak out and refuse to do it, or he’d bring a resumé and a promo
reel and spend his time trying to land a job in Hollywood.

I hung up and walked down to a local
café. On the phone, the owner had asked me to come in to discuss catering the
tiny reception. By the time I left, he’d promised to supply extra-fancy
pu-pu
platters and pour the champagne after the ceremony. I asked him where I might
find someone to provide music. He recommended a slack-key guitar player who
lived on Moloka’i. When I called the guitar player, the guy offered to bring
along his teenage daughter. I politely declined.

Later, when I went back to pay
the deposit on the catering, I thanked the café owner for the musician
referral. 

 “Is he bringing his daughter?”
he asked.

 “No, it’s only a small wedding.
We don’t need a vocalist.”

The guy looked stricken. “You
for real? His daughter’s Kaikala Wainwright. She’s only fourteen, but she’s got
the voice of an angel. Everybody around here will think you’re nuts if you
don’t let her sing.”

I went back to the White Orchid
and called the guitar player in Moloka’i to request that he bring along his
angel-voiced daughter after all.

“If you don’t want her to come,
no worries,” he said.

“No, I’m sorry. I was mistaken
when we talked earlier. I didn’t realize the bridal couple wanted a soloist,
but they do.”

“She’s a real good girl.
Planning to be a veterinarian. You know, first she goes to college, then to vet
school. It takes the same amount of time as medical school, and it costs almost
the same. She’ll probably have to go to the mainland to do that.”

I could tell where this was
heading.

“We can pay your daughter up to
fifty dollars, plus her airfare.”

“On Maui they usually pay her a
hundred.”

“This is a really small wedding.
Only seven people.”

“Well then, how about seventy
dollars? I’m sure after those people hear Kaikala sing they’ll agree it was
worth ten dollars each.”

We struck a deal.

By noon, I had almost everything
wrapped up except a cake. Back on Maui, I worked exclusively with one wedding
cake supplier, Keahou’s Bakery in Kula. I couldn’t risk ordering from her, even
though I knew she’d come through with not only something delicious, but she’d
probably insist on hand-carrying it to Lana’i on the ferry.

I called Darryl in Honolulu.

“Sorry to bug you. How are mom
and baby doing?”

“No worries, call anytime. Ewa’s
a natural-born mother. We checked out of the hospital yesterday afternoon. She
was driving the nurses
pupule
hanging out in the nursery all the time. They
told her to get some rest but she wasn’t willing to leave Ethan. Say, how’s the
wedding coming along?”

“Everything’s going great,” I
said. “I have a question, though. Where can I get a cake made? I need a small
wedding cake.”

There was a pause on the line
and I wondered if we’d been disconnected.

“Darryl? You still there?”

“Yeah.” He sounded perturbed.

“Did I say something wrong?”