Tuesday’s Child

Chapter 13

NICK MANCUSO WALKED OFF THE GOLF COURSE AND HEADED TO the clubhouse. He knew from past tournaments it was going to take him a full hour, possibly two, before he could take a shower and change his clothes. He’d played the match and won, and now he had another game to play, the social game that helped get him to where he was.

Dripping with sweat, he swiped at his forehead with the sleeve of his endorsed shirt, jammed his endorsed ball cap back on his head, and smiled, his eyes searching for the good-looking young guy whose last name was Aulani. But he couldn’t see him among the throngs of well-wishers who were waiting to shake his hand and congratulate him.

It had been hot out there on the course even with the ocean breezes. A kind of heat he wasn’t used to. His hip was aching, too, so that hadn’t helped. Bone on bone was what the orthopedic doctor had said. Thirty-four and in need of a hip transplant. Ridiculous! But it wasn’t ridiculous; he’d consulted three top-notch orthopedic surgeons, viewed his X-rays. He hungered for some Advil and the hot tub at his hotel the way a man who was stranded in the desert hungered for a drink. Soon.

Nick wanted to check to see if he had any texts from the mainland, but he couldn’t do that either, not till he had some privacy. Now, though, he had to prepare for the photo op, accept his trophy, and bank the very large check that would be handed to him.

Nick sucked in his breath as he stared out the wraparound windows of the elite clubhouse. He loved Hawaii, what he’d seen of it so far. He gazed at the lush green lawn, the swaying palms, the verdant vegetation, and the colorful flowers that Hawaii was known for. He sniffed the half dozen or so leis that had been draped around his neck the moment he’d beaten his final opponent, three and two. He wasn’t sure, but he rather thought that a person could get drunk on the scent if they inhaled it long enough.

Nick gulped at a glass of ginger ale and finished it in two swallows. He reached for a second glass and finished it, too. He eyed the tempting buffet and decided to pass on food. He could always eat later.

Exactly three hours and twenty-three minutes later, Nick let himself into his hotel suite. He literally ran to the bedroom for his cell phone. Six text messages, five from Patty. One from a friend back home congratulating him. He read them hungrily even though there was nothing there to tell him where Sophie Lee was, if she was indeed on the island. He read them twice so he could think about them when he hit the shower and the hot tub.

Nick almost passed out with the relief he felt when he lowered himself into the swirling hot water. Someone, the maid he assumed, had placed several leis in the hot tub, and the scent was so pleasing Nick closed his eyes and gave himself up to the moment and let his mind drift. He thought about Patty, Sophie, and Jon, and how close the four of them had been, how much they’d shared, all their hopes and dreams for the future. Jon was gone now, succumbing to some virus that attacked his delicate immune system while he’d worked as a missionary in the jungles of Peru. He, Sophie, and Patty had always looked out for Jon, as he was frail and far from healthy. Jon was the one who was always the voice of reason. He’d been so devastated at Sophie’s conviction, he’d had a nervous breakdown. The moment the verdict was read, he’d headed for the airport and Peru. Nick had gotten daily reports on Jon’s condition from the head missionary, for all the good he or Patty could do. He remembered how Jon had stood for one minute in the courtroom, eyed Patty and Nick, tears streaming down his face, then he was gone. His ashes had been sent to St. Gabriel’s, and the nuns had given those ashes to Nick. He still had them in his bedroom back in Dunwoody. He knew he would keep them forever. Sometimes, Patty asked to keep them for a week or so, and he always allowed it. She would return them, her eyes moist, and give him that little smile that was just for him.

Patty, with the sparkling green eyes, feisty to the core, all 105 pounds of her, had taken Jon’s death so hard, she had cried for weeks. All she kept saying over and over was how could God do this to them, rob her and Nick of their sister and brother? The answer she always came up with was maybe because they weren’t blood brothers and sisters. She’d demanded answers from the nuns back then. She’d gone there like the spitfire she was and refused to accept their explanations. As far as he knew, she’d never gone to church again. Surprise! Surprise! He hadn’t gone, either. They, whoever they were, said that God worked in mysterious ways. He guessed now that it was true because Sophie was back among the living. All he had to do was find her.

As he luxuriated in the steaming water, Nick replayed Patty’s other texts. She liked working at the firm. What was not to like, working alongside her fiancé? The hiring of the new associates had gone at the speed of light. Investigators had been hired, and she was in charge of all of them. She said she loved issuing orders to big burly guys and blond bombshells. Blond bombshells, she said, were ideal investigators.

Another text said that the new hires were busy with the court transcripts. She herself was going over them with a fine-tooth comb. So far nothing concrete was jumping out, though there was something niggling at her that she felt was important but couldn’t put her finger on.

The last text congratulated Nick on his win and contained a reminder to bring Patty a present. Nick smiled at the last comment. Earlier in the morning, he’d made arrangements to send two dozen plumeria leis to Kala’s office. Of course he would buy his best friend a trinket of some kind. Patty did love presents, that was for sure. He knew it wasn’t the actual gift she wanted but him taking the time to pick out something just for her. And as she pointed out numerous times, she wasn’t the least bit ashamed of reminding him. She’d always brought him something back, too, when she went on the road covering a story.

Nick leaned back on the leather headrest and closed his eyes. Either the Advil was working or the Jacuzzi was doing its job. Probably both. He felt so good, he actually catnapped for the next twenty minutes. He used up another forty minutes showering, shaving, and dressing.

Now what was he supposed to do at eight-thirty in the evening, Hawaiian time? He’d sent the entourage he traveled with home. Actually, they should be boarding their flight that very minute. He was alone, and he savored the peace and quiet.

Dressed in creased khakis and a white golf shirt that showed off his tan, he headed out of his suite to the elevator and the bar in the lobby. What better place to find out information than from a bartender. He hated doing it, but he was going to trade on his celebrity to gain information.

Heads turned when Nick walked into the bar. The patrons started to whisper among themselves, but no one approached him. For as long as he could remember, people just never came up to him unless it was after a tournament. Patty said he gave off an aura of some kind that said stay away, and people recognized it and gave him the space he needed.

Nick took a seat at the far end of the bar. He nodded to a few people and turned away. Stay away, the nod said. The bartender, a handsome young guy with dark eyes, grinned and said, “Congratulations, Mr. Mancuso! What can I get you?”

“A cold beer would be great.”

“Coming up. Glass?”

“Nah.” The bartender grinned as he placed the uncapped beer on a round cardboard disk. He reached under the bar and brought up a bowl of peanuts and some other kind of mix that looked crunchy and salty. He waited just a few moments to see if Nick would initiate conversation. His face lit up like a Christmas tree when Nick asked him if he knew Kala Aulani.

“You know it! She’s a second cousin of mine. Great lady. She lives here on the island, you know. Well, when she’s here she lives here. Guess that doesn’t make sense. She lives stateside in Georgia and comes back once a year or so. Usually for the family reunion. Really nice lady. Do you know her?”

“Actually, I do. One of my friends works for her firm. She’s on a six-month vacation because she retired.” He hated to lie, but he lied anyway. “Kala does legal work for me from time to time. I’m going to miss her because now someone else has to do my work.”

The bartender relaxed. The guy knew stuff about his cousin that no one else knew, so he had to be legit, and besides, he was the number two golfer in the country. “One of her partners was here a few days ago. Didn’t stay long.”

“That so? Must have been Linda.”

Convinced that it was okay to keep talking to this guy, seeing as how he knew the partner’s name and all, the bartender said, “Yeah. Yeah, that was her name. Guess she was doing some business for Kala since she’s away.”

Nick swigged at the beer and picked at the nuts in the bowl. Macadamia nuts. His favorite. Now all he had to do was find out where Kala’s house was. He struggled for nonchalance when he swiveled around on the bar stool and looked around the room. “I think her house is somewhere around here,” he said vaguely. “Hey, can I buy you a beer?”

“Can’t drink on duty. Yeah, she lives on Liliuokalani Street, the biggest house on the street.”

“I knew it was something like that. I wouldn’t even try to spell it. Well, if you see her before I do, give her my regards. Tell her had she been here, I would have taken her out to dinner. It’s been a tough day, so I think I’m going to retire. Thanks for the conversation. Nice meeting you.” Nick stuck out his hand and so did the bartender.

Suddenly shy, the bartender asked for his autograph. It wasn’t just one autograph, though. It was several dozen for his assorted cousins and nephews. “And a few nieces.” He grinned.

Nick laughed and signed his name on cocktail napkins till his hand went numb. He waved and left the bar and took the elevator to his room. He popped another beer from the small fridge and carried it out to his balcony. He sat down and propped his feet up on the table and tried to relax. It was still light out. He could have taken a taxi to Kala’s house. He told himself it was better to wait till morning. He’d have all night to dream about Sophie Lee. If he was right, he might even see Sophie Lee.

Downstairs in the bar, the happy-go-lucky bartender made sure all his customers were served and needing nothing before he made a call on his cell phone. “Kiki, listen up.” The bartender rattled off what had happened with the golfer Nick Mancuso. “You told me to report anything with all the statesiders here, so I’m reporting. I think the guy is who he said he is, and he knew Kala, and she did legal work for him. No, he said he was sorry she wasn’t here because he would have taken her to dinner. He didn’t say how much longer he would be here, but his people left the hotel earlier and are probably on the eight o’clock flight to California. I checked with the front desk, and Mr. Mancuso is the only one who remained behind. He signed a bunch of autographs. Nice guy, but he did want to know where Kala lived, and I told him. I have one of the bellboys watching to see if he leaves his suite. Yeah, Kiki, you do owe me.”

The bartender stared out across the room. He felt like a snitch, and he didn’t like the feeling.

But family came first. That was all there was to it.