[Lady Justice 03] - Lady Justice Gets Lei'd Read online

  “What do you mean by sovereignty?”

  “You have to understand some basics of Hawaiian history. Our form of government was a monarchy before the white man came. Much like the history of your American Indian, our lands were taken, our people were killed, and our government was overthrown. Today only twenty percent of the land is owned by people of Hawaiian blood.”

  “So what are their goals?”

  “Their ultimate goal is to reestablish the Hawaiian monarchy and form an independent government.”

  “Are you talking about seceding from the United States?”

  “Yes.”

  “The travel posters call Hawaii the ‘Land of Aloha,’ sunny beaches, mai-tais, and hula girls.”

  “That’s the hype, but nothing could be further from the truth. That’s the corporate spin, but all that glitz is man-made and has nothing to do with the ‘real’ Hawaii.”

  “Do all your people feel that way?”

  “Most Hawaiians wish things were different, but there’s no turning back the clock. Money and power rule. Think of the defense installations, the hotels, shopping centers, and the multimillion-dollar homes on the beach. It is what it is, and most of us realize we just have to make the best of a tragic situation.”

  “Most, but not all.”

  “Yes, there is a small but very vocal group who want to return to the old ways. I understand, and I am sympathetic. But I am also a realist, and I know they are fighting a losing battle. Rather than alienate the rest of the world, our goal is to share the history of our beautiful culture and preserve it for future generations. That is the purpose of our traveling exhibit.”

  “Well,” Maggie chimed in, “it certainly opened our eyes. We knew nothing of Hawaiian history until we heard your grandfather’s lecture. He was a special man.”

  “Indeed he was. He had very powerful mana and was able to see things most men cannot see. Take you, for example.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, he said you were to be called Hualani. The literal translation means ‘child of a chief.’ I became curious, so I did some research. My people are very big on genealogy. I have heard of a man in the village by Waimanolo who has seven generations tattooed on his leg.”

  “So what does that have to do with me?”

  “Shortly after the discovery of the islands, missionaries from New England came to the islands to convert the heathen idol worshipers to Christianity. Unfortunately, the white man brought more than the gospel. They also brought diseases like smallpox and measles, from which the islanders had no immunity. Eventually, over ninety percent of the Hawaiian population died.”

  “Again, what does that have to do with me?”

  “You are related to one of the early missionaries.”

  “Wha …? How do you know that?”

  “I traced your genealogy. A missionary came to the islands and eventually married the daughter of an alii, a chief. They conceived a daughter, but shortly after, the mother died of smallpox. The grieving father returned to New England with his daughter. That young girl was your great-great-grandmother. You have Hawaiian blood flowing in your veins. You are Hualani, child of a chief.”

  “So what is the significance of all that?” I asked.

  “And what exactly did Uncle Ray mean when he said she had been chosen?”

  “I wish I could tell you. Uncle Ray knew things I cannot begin to know. But I know this—the two of you have a destiny to fulfill in my homeland. Hawaii will call and you will come.”

  Maggie and I were silent as we drove away from the gallery. A thousand different things were playing in our minds.

  Buddy had thanked us profusely and said that when, not if, we came to the islands to call him first. He had relatives on every island that would be our hosts and guides. Apparently, our part in saving the artifacts had been shared with the folks back home, and we were heroes of sorts.

  Maggie spoke first. “I’m trying to get my head around all of this, but it just doesn’t compute. So what if I have a tiny bit of Hawaiian blood? All of our families came from somewhere. If you look far enough into anyone’s history, there will be a tie to some other part of the world. Why is this important? Why me?”

  I thought about making light of the situation, just blowing it off as so much superstition, but then I thought of the little lizard in my pocket.

  “I wish I had an easy answer, but I don’t. Neither of us asked for any of this. We were just living our lives, and somehow we got dragged into this whole Hawaii thing. But now the artifacts are safe, and the perps are in jail. Maybe our part in this saga is finished.”

  Maggie turned and gave me the look. “You don’t believe that any more than I do, but thanks for trying.”

  “All I know is this—we have to go back to living our normal lives, and whatever happens, happens. I also know that I love you, and I want you to be my wife. I want to marry you now!”

  “Define ‘now.’”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “So are we headed to the courthouse to find a judge?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t. Tell me, Mr. Wedding Planner, what date did you have in mind? Where is this event to take place? Who are we going to invite? Will we have a reception? Will this be a civil or religious ceremony? Who will be doing the catering? What are we going to wear? Are we going on a honeymoon? Where are we going to live after we’re hitched? Well?”

  Silence.

  I think I realized why I’d never married before.

  “Does it really have to be that complicated?”

  “Which of the things I just mentioned do you think we can eliminate?”

  I couldn’t think of any.

  “You’re the bride. Have you been thinking about any of this stuff?”

  “Of course I have. I knew you wouldn’t.”

  “So what did you decide?”

  Wrong question.

  “Decide? This isn’t my decision. It’s our decision. If you want to get married, you have to participate.”

  “Maybe I phrased that wrong. What ideas have you come up with that we can discuss?”

  “Nice save, but don’t think you’ve fooled me even a little bit.”

  I had expected a laundry list of ideas, but I was surprised by her response.

  “I just don’t know. This is supposed to be a special day, a first time for both of us. On the one hand, a simple civil ceremony doesn’t seem like quite enough, but a big church wedding seems inappropriate for two people our age. I don’t want a huge crowd of people, but who do you not invite and hurt their feelings? We could just have a small private ceremony and then invite everyone to a big reception. I just don’t know.”

  She had obviously given the subject more thought than I had. I knew any contribution from me at that point would only shed more light on my lack of forethought, so I chose to remain silent.

  We pulled up in front of my building, and a small congregation had gathered on the front porch.

  Willie, the professor, Jerry, Dad, and Bernice were rocking and chatting, and I knew Maggie and I didn’t have a snowball’s chance of running this gauntlet without a prolonged interrogation of our day’s events.

  I took Maggie’s hand and headed for the porch.

  “Let’s get this over with,” I said.

  We shared an abbreviated account of our meeting with Buddy Kalakoa, who had asked that we send his thanks to Dad for his part in the recovery of the artifacts.

  Dad was his usual self, and his response was not unexpected.

  “Glad I could help, Sonny. It gave me a chance to do one of the two things I love doing the most, driving and—”

  “Uh, yeah, Dad. We get the picture.”

  “Since you two made it through that mess without becoming shish kabobs, when you going to get hitched?”

  We just looked at each other.

  I got the “we-might-as-well-tell-them” look, and we spilled our guts regarding all the uncertainties of
our upcoming nuptials.

  It was then that I remembered a quote from a Dirty

  Harry movie: “Opinions are like assholes. Everybody’s got one.”

  Sure enough, everyone on the porch had an opinion.

  Not only did they have opinions as to why and whether we should get married, but they were also eager to share some of their personal insights into the institution itself.

  Someone pointed out that marriage was a good thing. Statistics show that married men live longer.

  Dad countered by declaring that not to be true. It just seems longer.

  Bernice, who dumped her husband, said that if it weren’t for marriage, men would spend their lives thinking they had no faults at all. I suspect that by the time he left, Bernice’s husband was well aware of his.

  The professor, always the philosopher, shared that love is blind but marriage is an eye-opener.

  Jerry said that if we decided to take a honeymoon, he hoped it would be like a dining room table—four bare legs and no drawers.

  But it was Willie’s comment that gave us the most to think about.

  “Wot you two need to get married fo’ anyway? Ain’t you happy now?”

  As we climbed the stairs to my apartment, with the comments of our friends fresh in my mind, I was painfully aware of why nothing ever gets settled in committees.

  We were just plain tuckered out. We had been kidnapped, almost roasted, and saved by a horny old man and his eighty-six-year-old bimbo. My sweetie had been told that she was a Hawaiian princess with a destiny to fulfill, and we had just been grilled by the front porch inquisition. Neither of us wanted to think about weddings or work or mysteries of any kind. We just wanted to veg out.

  We ordered a pepperoni lovers pizza from Dominos, popped open a bottle of Arbor Mist, and hunkered down in front of the TV, prepared to lose ourselves in the oblivion of the silver screen.

  “Go to the Turner Classic Movie channel,” Maggie suggested. “I need something old and sweet and not too exciting. Kind of like you.”

  Wow! What a compliment.

  I flipped through the channels and found TCM. The credits for the next movie were just rolling. We were just in time to see Blue Hawaii.

  We were mesmerized as Elvis sang and danced through the 1961 classic.

  A tear rolled down Maggie’s cheek as the King sang Can’t Help Falling In Love. That was the song I did for Maggie on the night I proposed to her.

  At the end of the movie, Elvis and Joan Blackman, who played Maile Duvall, were married in one of the most beautiful settings we had ever seen. They strolled down a path lined with stately palm trees and boarded a raft, which carried them along a lagoon surrounded by a lush tropical garden.

  When the movie concluded, we both sat quietly, but our thoughts were on the same wavelength.

  Finally, I said, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “If you’re thinking about getting married in Hawaii, I probably am.”

  “Really? You would actually consider that?”

  “Are you kidding? What woman wouldn’t be thrilled to be swept off to a tropical paradise to marry the man of her dreams?”

  “It would solve a lot of our logistical problems, like where to have the ceremony, who to invite, what to wear. I have to admit, as much as I want to marry you, I just wasn’t excited about all the hoopla involved in making it happen. Now this I can get excited about.”

  “It just feels right, doesn’t it?”

  I was about to reply in the affirmative when I noticed the credits rolling across the screen for the next Turner Classic Movie.

  A chill shook my body, and the hairs stood at attention on the back of my neck when I saw that Richard Burton, Ava Gardner, and Deborah Kerr were about to star in Tennessee Williams’s The Night of the Iguana.

  So how does one begin to plan a Hawaiian wedding?

  The Internet, of course.

  I Googled Blue Hawaii and discovered that the beautiful wedding scene had been filmed at the Coco

  Palms Resort on Kauai. Upon further investigation, I was disappointed to learn that the resort had been destroyed in 1992 by Hurricane Iniki and was the only resort on the island that had never been rebuilt.

  Then, in the next article on the page, I found a listing for a Coco Palms wedding, and the contact person listed was a Larry Rivera.

  Wait a minute! How could some guy offer a wedding in a resort that had been blown away? Probably just a scam to get some poor sucker’s tourist dollars.

  Then it occurred to me. Buddy Kalakoa said that if we ever came to Hawaii to give him a call. Why not?

  I called Buddy’s cell and told him what Maggie and I had decided to do. I shared with him our disappointment with the Coco Palms and what I had discovered on the Internet.

  I was surprised at his answer.

  “Not a problem, bro. Uncle Larry will take care of you.”

  “Uncle Larry?”

  “Sure. I told you I have relatives on every island.

  Larry Rivera is my mother’s cousin.”

  “How can he conduct marriages in a place that’s been blown away?”

  “You need to understand Larry’s story. He was a young employee at the Coco Palms when Blue Hawaii was being filmed. He and Elvis became lifelong friends, and eventually Larry and his family became the feature attraction at the resort before the hurricane. Only a handful of people are allowed on the grounds, and Larry is one of them. They have preserved the lagoon and bridge you saw in the movie as well as the small chapel. That’s where the weddings are conducted.”

  “So it’s legit.”

  “Absolutely. Larry is a legend on Kauai. He is a songwriter and performer, and you will love his beautiful Hawaiian melodies. When you contact him, just tell him that I referred you. You’ll get the royal treatment. Also, let me know your itinery on the islands, and I will set you up with some guides.”

  See? It’s not what you know, but who you know.

  Maggie was thrilled when I shared the news with her.

  Now it was time to get down to business.

  So many decisions. When did we want to go? How long should we stay? What islands should we visit? How would we get there?

  Then another thought occurred to us. Were we going alone, or were we going to share this special event in our lives with someone dear to us?

  We thought long and hard on that one.

  We would certainly be more flexible if it was just the two of us, but in the end we didn’t want to be alone. We wanted to share the experience with loved ones who had stood by us through the years and had been willing to put themselves in harm’s way to protect us.

  Who better than Willie and Mary?

  It would cost a bundle to bring them along, but RCA Records had given me a reward for recovering the lost Elvis tapes. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend it.

  We broke the news to Mary first. Her eyes lit up like a little kids on Christmas morning.

  “Really? Me? To Hawaii? With you?”

  Maggie took Mary’s hand. “I’d be honored to have you stand up with me at our wedding.”

  A tear ran down Mary’s face. “I always dreamed of going there but never figured I’d ever get to do it.” Long pause. “I always wanted one of those fancy drinks with the little umbrellas. Do you think we could get one?”

  “As many as you want,” I replied. “Well, within limits, of course.”

  “And a grass skirt. I want a grass skirt and one of those coconut shell bras.”

  I took a look at Mary’s ample bosom and silently wondered if coconuts came in size forty-four double D.

  “And the sunsets. I’ve seen pictures of the Hawaiian sunsets. They’re so beautiful.”

  Then the tears came again. She grabbed us and hugged us tight.

  I think we made her day.

  Willie was a different story.

  He had lived most of his life on the streets in a hand-to-mouth existence. I doubt he had ever taken a real vacation.
I thought he would, like Mary, be excited with the prospect of traveling to exotic places.

  His first question was, “How we gonna get der?”

  “We’ll fly, of course.”

  “In a plane?”

  “Is there any other way?”

  “I don’t know. I ain’t never been on a plane.”

  I was in shock. Here was a guy who had rubbed shoulders with the worst life had to offer, a guy who had barreled into a gunman head first to save my life, and he was afraid to fly.

  “Did you know that statistically you have a much better chance of getting hit by a car than dying in a plane crash?”

  Willie wasn’t impressed by my logic.

  “Yeah, but dat’s down here. Not way up der.” He looked toward the heavens.

  “Maggie and Mary and I will all be with you.”

  I guess the thought of all of us dying together wasn’t much of a comfort.

  “I don’ know, Mr. Walt. I wanna go but ---” He saw the look of disappointment in my eyes. “How come you want me to go? Is it really dat special to you?”

  “I want you to go because you’re my best friend, and I want you to be the best man at my wedding. It would mean a lot to me.”

  He didn’t say a word, but I could see the wheels turning.

  Finally, he said, “Okay, I’ll go. Maybe I can get in

  dat ‘Mile High Club.’”

  I guess we each have our own way of overcoming our fears.

  CHAPTER 9

  I was elated when we finally agreed upon the Hawaiian wedding. I figured all of the nagging questions that had plagued both of us were behind us. Instead, a whole new set of decisions had to be made.

  Why does life have to be so complex?

  One burning question was what we were going to do when we returned.

  We would board the Hawaii-bound aircraft as two singles living in separate quarters, but we would return as a married couple to live—where?

  Maggie had a small, one-bedroom condo on the Plaza that was barely big enough for her.

  My apartment had two bedrooms but only one bath and a small kitchen.

  I couldn’t help thinking of Maggie’s occasional overnighters and our friendly jousts as we sparred for spitting rights into the sink.