Chapter 28 A Dozen Gunshots

 I spent the morning with the ladies of Kon-Tiki Sands, on our weekly Catholic Charities excursion. Shopping was the last thing I’d felt like doing, but with all the potlucks I was seemingly required to attend, I couldn’t very well afford to miss it.

After putting my groceries away, I filled a large pot with water and added a dozen eggs. I set the heat on high, silently congratulating myself on my more-than-brilliant plan to make deviled eggs for tonight’s poker game.

My clothes clung to me. The humidity was unreal. The eggs would take fourteen minutes—just enough time to hop in the shower for a quick rinse.

The cool water was refreshing. After my shower, I wrapped a towel around me sarong-style and checked the bedroom clock. Seven more minutes till the eggs would be perfectly boiled.

My knees throbbed. The bed beckoned. I lay down, just to take the weight off my legs for a few minutes. I gave the woman on the ceiling a thumbs-up, and close my eyes.

A loud POW! Jolted me from sleep. I sat upright. What was that?

POW!

POW POW POW!

POW POW!

Gripping my towel so it wouldn’t fall off, I snatched my cell phone from the nightstand and called Romy.

“Romy,” he barked.

“Romy—this is Lillian. I hear gunshots! Right outside my apartment! Call the police!”

“Are you sure? I don’t hear anything.”

POW! POW!

“There—did you hear that?”

“I heard it. Are you sure it’s—”

“I know the sound of a gunshot.”

“Okay. Stay inside and keep your door locked. I’m calling the police.” He ended the call.

My heart banged in my chest. I perched on the edge of the couch, listening for more gunshots.

POW!  POW!POW!

I flinched. The gunman had to be very nearby.

An overpowering odor of sulfur filled the air.

The eggs!

I’d put a dozen eggs on to boil before my shower. And my nap. How long—?

I jumped up, one hand gripping my towel, and half-ran to the kitchen. In here the smell was even stronger. The burner under the pan glowed bright red. I turned it off and peered into the pot. The empty pot. The water had all boiled away—but where were the eggs?

I couldn’t believe it—someone had come in and stolen my eggs while I was in the shower! Had I remembered to lock the door?

Outside, a siren wailed.

That’s when I noticed bits yellow and white confetti splattered on the wall behind my stove. My eyes were drawn upwards. The ceiling was plastered with it. And then it dawned on me what had happened.

I sank onto a kitchen chair, covered my eyes, and let out a groan. “What have I done?” I whispered out loud.

Someone pounded on my door. I pulled myself up, painfully, and peered out the window. Romy stood there. Beside him was the same female officer who’d interviewed me last week. Bautista—that was her name.

One hand went to my mouth. “Oh no,” I muttered through my fingers as I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Still dressed in a towel, my wet hair standing out in all directions, I glanced past Romy. All around the complex, doors were opening. The other residents emerged to see what the commotion was about.

“Everyone get back inside—now!” ordered a male uniformed officer.

“Vat is going on?” Francesca asked him.

“Someone reported gunshots in this area,” he said. “Now get inside. All of you. Hurry it up!”

Everyone disappeared back into their condos. Doors shut.

“Can we come in?” Officer Bautista asked me, drawing my attention back to her.

She and Romy practically shoved me aside as they barged in. He closed the door.

“Are you the one who heard the gunshots, ma’am?” Officer Bautista asked.

My mouth fell open. What was the penalty for calling in a false police report? “Well, I was taking a nap,” I said. “I heard these loud pops … I thought it sounded like …” I gave a little shrug. “Now I’m not so sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure?” Romy said angrily. “You told me you were sure.”

“I thought I was …”

“What time was this, exactly?” Bautista asked.

“I … I really don’t know …”

Romy consulted his phone. “You called me at one forty-two.”

“Well then, that was when I heard it.”

“How many shots did you hear?” Bautista asked.

“Around a dozen,” I muttered.

“Pardon me?” she said.

“Twelve,” I said louder. “I heard about twelve gunshots.”

“Okay. We have officers searching the area. We haven’t found anyone with a gun but we’ll keep looking. You need to stay inside with your door closed and locked. Keep away from the windows until we give the all-clear.”

Chapter 27 Jewish Voodoo

 

Tuesday I woke to a sticky, breezeless morning. A groan escaped my throat as I sat on the edge of the bed and let my feet dangle to the floor. Every inch of my body still ached after Monday’s unaccustomed exercise.

There was a knock at my door. A glance at the stove clock told me it was seven a.m. I set my crossword puzzle aside, stood on creaky knees. I peeked out the kitchen window to see who was there.

I pulled the door open. “Esther! Come in.”

“I saw your light on and thought you must be up,” she said, slipping out of her rubber slippers.

“I was just finishing up the crossword.”

She took in my appearance. I hadn’t bothered to brush my hair or put on makeup yet. “ You are going to kanikapila at eleven, aren’t you?”

I sat on a kitchen chair with a sigh and pointed to the other one. “Come. Sit. Would you like some tea?”

“Oh, no. I just finished a mug of coffee. So … you are going, right?”

“I really wasn’t planning to. I woke up hurting after yesterday’s exercise.”

“It’s a good workout, isn’t it?”

“Oh my, yes. It’s deceptive. All those movements in the water seemed so gentle while I was doing them. The soreness crept up on me later in the day. By the time I woke up from my nap yesterday, I could barely move. I hurt in places I didn’t know I had.”

“Everyone says that in the beginning. It gets easier with time. I promise.”

“I hope Kaulana’s okay after her near-drowning yesterday. I couldn’t believe Romy—isn’t he supposed to be our self-proclaimed lifeguard? He just stood there and didn’t do a thing to help her.”

“Oh, Romy don’t like cold water. If someone seriously got into trouble, I’m pretty sure he’d help. But there’s no way he’s getting’ in the water if he don’t have to.”

“It looked pretty serious to me. The way Kaulana panicked, she could’ve drowned.”

Esther waved a dismissive hand. “Kaulana’s legs rise to the surface every time she gets in the pool. Let’s face it, fat floats. I mean, it happens to me sometimes, too. It’s just that I know not to panic. Kaulana, on the other hand, she panics every time. Starts screaming that she’s drowning, even though she’s in three feet of water and she’s got on a aqua jogging belt.”

“I think we both know a person can drown in three feet of water.”

Esther grew silent for a minute. “Anyways, I really think you need to be at kanikapila today. Have some lunch, enjoy the music. After that you can come home and take a nap if you want.”

After Esther left, I took another look in my nearly-empty fridge. In the freezer I found  the second loaf of challah I’d made Friday. I wrapped it in foil and put it in the oven. While the bread warmed, I threw on some capris and a tropical print blouse, brushed my hair, and dabbed on some light makeup.

***

Kaulana was a picture in pink, dressed in a floral-print mu‘umu‘u, tropical flowers pinned in her hair. “Aloha kakahiaka, Lillian.” The smile she gave me as I walked into the clubhouse was almost shy—or perhaps embarrassed?  

“Good morning.” I answered. I really needed to work on my Hawaiian greetings. I’d planned on asking her how she was doing after yesterday’s incident, but thought better of it. I’d let her be the one to bring it up.

“Glad you could make it, Lillian,” Esther said.

“Me too.” I set the warm braided bread, a stick of butter, and a little bowl of pineapple jam on the bar with the rest of the food and took a seat beside Sylvie on the sofa.

Kaulana, Tiare, and Mae played their ukuleles. Tiare and Kaulana led the singing in English and Hawaiian. I sang along to the English words of Pearly Shells.The chorus to We do it Island Style was quite catchy and by the end of the song I was singing along with it as well.

Every now and then Kaulana turned to Tiare and call out, “Pa‘ani,” which I took to mean You take it from here.

When the singing was done, the women stood and loaded their plates.

“What kind of bread is this?” Mae asked, looking at my challah.

“I brought a loaf of challah today,” I said.

“You brought holiday?” Sylvie asked, throwing her arms around me in a strong hug. . “I love holiday!”

“Sylvie,” Tiare said in a raised voice. “Lillian brought challah today.” She pronounced challah as if the word was completely familiar to her. “Turn up your hearing, Sylvie.” More quietly, she said, “Or turn up your brain.”

Sylvie released me and looked at Tiare with a pout.

“What’s challah?” Mae asked.

“It’s Jewish bread,” Esther offered helpfully. “Lillian bakes it herself.”

This drew gaping stares from Coralee, Violet, Francesca, and Mae.

“Bread is so fattening,” Coralee finally said. “Not to mention butter.”

What about Kaulana’s Bundt cakes, I wanted to ask but didn’t dare.

“I stopped eating bread years ago,” said Violet. “I decided to be gluten-free.” That hadn’t stopped her from eating Sylvie’s pot brownies.

“Gluten free—are you kidding me?” Coralee said. “You stopped eating bread because it bloated you up and made you constipated.”

Violet shot her a venomous look.

“I don’t miss eating bread at all,” said Coralee, smoothing her blouse down. With a look at me, she added, “Besides, you are what you eat.”

“I thought I smelled food.” The women’s faces lit up as Arnie strode toward the makeshift buffet.

“Here, let me make  a plate for you, honey,” Violet drawled. She grabbed a paper plate. “Do you see something that whets your appetite?” she asked suggestively, pushing her chest out.

Arnie looked right past Violet. His eyes locked on my challah,  he nearly shoved her aside. “Is that really challah?” he asked.” I swear it must be fifty years since I’ve tasted challah.”

Apparently he’d already forgotten the dinner we shared just four days ago.

He tore a piece from the loaf and shoved it in his mouth. “Mmmm … this is as good as my bubbe used to make,” he said with his mouth full. “It really brings back memories. Every morning before school Bubbe gave me a piece of hot challah slathered in butter.”

I felt the jealous stares as Arnie continued to swoon over my challah.

“Can I take some home?” he asked, his eyes bright as new pennies.

“Of course,” I said. “Please.”

He grabbed the entire loaf and took off with it like a kid absconding with a handful of cookies from the cookie jar.

“Better he eats it than me,” Mae said. “I don’t need the empty calories.

“She’s trying to work her Jewish voodoo on him, ” Violet spat, glaring at me.

“Yes, we prefer American food around here, Lillian,” said Coralee, linking arms with Violet.

“You ladies have something against Jews?” Esther asked.

“I didn’t mean that,” Coralee said, trying to backpedal. “Jews are in the Bible—”

“We know what y’all mean,” Tiare said in an exaggerated accent. “Maybe y’all better remove dem white hoods you’s wearin’!”

Sylvie shrieked. “There’s a rat in here!” She pointed toward the corner of the room.

Grateful for the interruption, I ran over to check. “It’s just a big roach.”

“I keep telling Romy vee need to fumigate,” said Francesca, peering over my shoulder.

“It was a rat,” said Sylvie. “I swear. I’m going home. I don’t wanna be here with a bunch of rats!”

Did Sylvie realize how on-point her comment was?

“Maybe I’d better go too,” I said quietly, taking my empty bread platter.

“Do not vorry, ladies,” said Francesca. “A man cannot liff wizzout meat. He vill come back zoon enough. You vill zee, uh huh. You vill zee.”

 

 

Chapter 26 Aqua Jogging

 It was a somber group of women who gathered at the pool Monday morning for aqua jogging, one week after Pearl was found dead in the hot tub. Yesterday Louise had voiced the question I’d refused to consider. Was one of these women—my neighbors—capable of murder?

The police had removed the crime scene tape from the pool area. No visible reminders of the incident were left. Steam rose from the newly-sanitized hot tub, where Romy knelt beside the blurbling water to check the temperature. I couldn’t imagine that anyone would ever want to use it again.

Tiare, in a royal blue swimsuit with a thigh-length skirt, wore diamond stud earrings and a blue turban to hide her hair. Violet was dressed in a snakeskin-print one-piece. Large gold hoops hung from her ears, pink lipstick and Prada sunglasses completed the look. Mae had on her black Hydroskin outfit, with booties and webbed gloves that made her appear amphibian. Francesca wore men’s board shorts and a long-sleeved rash guard. Kaulana attempted to hide her figure under leggings and an oversized tee shirt. Once again, no one seemed to think the white panties Sylvie sported over her black one-piece were noteworthy. Esther, in a brightly flowered swimsuit, gave me a quick smile. No one else acknowledged my presence.

There was little conversation as Coralee handed out aqua jogging belts. I took one, thanked her, and snapped it around my waist. I got in line behind Francesca as everyone made their way single-file down the steps and into the pool.

It was a slow process. When my feet finally touched the water I let out a little yelp. I hadn’t expected it to be this icy. I forged ahead, but when the water reached my waist it, the cold literally took my breath away. I froze.

The women who were already in the pool shot me withering looks. Behind me, Tiare cleared her throat, clearly not entertained by my wimpiness. I was holding up the line.

“Two rows of four!” Coralee called out like a drill sergeant. “Come on, ladies, let’s move it!”

I bit back another squeal and pushed forward into the water.

Tiare, Violet, Mae, and Francesca formed a row across the pool, facing Coralee. Kaulana, Mae, Sylvie, and Esther splashed through the water to make a second row behind them. There wasn’t room for another body in either row. Nothing for me to do but move behind them and make a third row of one.

“Mornin’, Lillian,” Esther said quietly as I paddled past her.

“Good morning, Esther,” I said with a grateful smile.

“Okay, ladies!” Coralee shouted, much louder than necessary. “We’re going to warm up by jogging in place—let’s go!”

I was in water so deep my feet didn’t touch the bottom of the pool. Still, I jogged, suspended by my flotation belt.

Romy stood near the edge of the pool where he could oversee us, a large cup of coffee in hand, his typical impatient scowl across his face.

As Coralee led us through jumping jacks, lunges, and a variety of kicks, I warmed up enough to stop shivering. “One, two, three, four! Kick! Kick! Kick!

Above the vigorous splashing and Coralee’s demanding shouts, a long, roiling belch rang out.

Coralee fell quiet. All heads turned in Romy’s direction, where the noise had come from.

“What was that?” Coralee asked him.

Romy raised his coffee cup. “Starbucks,” he said without apology.

Tiare said, “Sounded more like Portuguese bean soup to me.”

Laughter broke out among the women and the  mood was lifted.

Coralee called out, “Come on, we gotta keep it moving, ladies! Deep water now for cross country skiing!”

The women made small talk as we paddled to the deep end of the pool and gathered in a loose circle. Romy moved closer.

I noticed Kaulana was still in the shallow end, clinging to the side of the pool. “Aren’t you coming, Kaulana?” I called to her.

She gave me a sweet smile but didn’t reply.

“She can’t wear her hearing aids in the pool,” Violet said.

Sylvie said, “She’s deaf as a post without ’em.”

“She’s afraid of deep water,” Mae added.

Coralee consulted her white plastic sports watch. “We’ll do one minute slow, one minute medium, one minute fast. Starting … now!”

I did my best to imitate her slow, steady tin-soldier-like motions under the water. This was definitely a full-body workout and I suspected I’d be sore tomorrow.

“That’s right, Lilith,” Coralee said.  “Straight arms and legs, just like you’re cross country skiing.”

Had she just called me Lilith? I looked at the others to see if anyone noticed. Tiare and Violet wore smirks.

“Big strides, everyone!” Coralee went on as if nothing had happened. Surely I’d misheard her, with all the splashing. She checked her watch. “Okay, let’s take it up a notch! Medium!”

After what felt like much more than a minute, Coralee peeked her watch again. “Now double-time! For one minute … go!”

My strength was flagging, but no one else seemed be having a hard time of it. I pushed on, not wanting to be the weakest among them.

“Help me!” Kaulana screamed. She thrashed on the water’s surface, a look of sheer panic on her face. That end of the pool was barely three feet deep, but Kaulana’s legs had floated up. Her arms flailed. “I’m drowning!”

“Kaulana needs help!” I yelled to no one in particular.

Romy, our self-appointed lifeguard, sauntered in  Kaulana’s direction. The rest of us paddled as hard and fast as we could toward the shallow end.

Romy got there first. He stood at the edge of the pool and bent over the water. “Kaulana. Put. Your. Feet. Down.” He said each word deliberately. He clearly had no plan to get in the water to rescue her.

Kaulana thrashed, her shouts for help growing more shrill.

“She’s deaf!” I yelled to Romy as I paddled with all my might toward Kaulana.

Romy took his eyes off Kaulana long enough to give me a no-kidding look.

My arms burned. It felt as if I was moving in slow motion through the water. “Hold on, Kaulana! Don’t panic. We’re coming.”

I was the first to reached Kaulana. I grabbed her from behind, under the arms, and moved her the short distance to the side of the pool.

Still floating on her back, her hand made contact with the concrete. Once she began to calm, I tried to push her legs down. Her fat was so buoyant I could do nothing toward getting her in an upright position.

Coralee was the next to reach Kaulana, followed closely by Francesca. Between the three of us, we managed to get Kaulana upright, her legs beneath her, her feet firmly on the bottom of the pool. One by one the others arrived, each of them comforting and calming her.

Romy’s face was expressionless, his Starbucks cup still gripped in one hand. He made no move to assist. In her panic Kaulana could’ve easily flipped face-down in the water and drowned before we reached her, while Romy stood by and watched. Granted she’d been in water shallow enough to stand in—but all of us knew all too well that was no guarantee against drowning.

I remembered Esther’s advice about playing along. Romy was in need of a good telling off, but it was best left to one of the long-time residents to put him in his place. The last thing I needed was to get on the wrong side of the resident manager.

Chapter 25 Inside Job?

 While I applied tape to the baseboards in the bedroom, Louise set to work masking the window. “Tell me about your neighbors,” she said.

“Let’s see. The manager, Romy, lives in one-oh-one. He’s single, around sixty, and seems to be a real sweetheart once you get past his gruff exterior. He takes care of the grounds and swimming pool, and does odd jobs as needed. He helped me hang my paintings.

“Vee-oh-lette, spelled V-I-O-L-E-T, lives in one-oh-two. Picture leopard-print leggings on an anorexic body, sun-damaged skin, spiky bleached blonde hair, gaudy jewelry, and an affected southern accent. She’s a shameless gossip.

 “In one-oh-three is a lovely Hawaiian woman named Kaulana. She wears triple-X mu‘umu‘us and fresh flowers in her hair, plays the ukulele, and sings like an angel. She bakes Bundt cakes obsessively and constantly tries to pass them off of on everyone.”

“Are her cakes so bad?”

“Not at all. They’re delicious, but how much cake can a person eat? I’ve got one in my freezer that you can take home to Freddy if you want.”

“He’d love it.”

“My only real friend here so far, is Esther, two doors down in one-oh-four. She’s an oversized black woman with a contagious sense of humor. Her daddy was a Baptist preacher and she leads the Bible studies in her condo on Saturday nights. She’s the only one who’s allowed to abstain from poker night, because of her religious beliefs.

“In one-oh-five is a Japanese woman named Mae. I haven’t quite figured Mae out. Her moods change at the drop of a hat. One minute she’s quiet—almost shy—and the next she’s on a rant. She’s so overly feminine, at first I thought she might be a lesbian. But the other day as I passed her kitchen on the way to visit Esther, I smelled cigarettes. Mae doesn’t smoke. From inside her condo I could hear her conversing with a man Japanese.

“On my other side, in one-oh-seven, is a German woman named Francesca. She has a deep voice and a heavy accent that makes her difficult to understand. She’s tall and built strong, with a no-nonsense attitude. I have no idea if it’s true, but it’s rumored that when Francesca was just five years old her mother made her strangle kittens so she’d be tough enough to survive the war..”

“Oh, how horrible!”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the other women made it up. They may dislike her for being German, though I see no evidence of that. She seems to get along well enough here.”

I taped the last baseboard and brought a can of paint over so I could start on the wall. “I caught Francesca tilting painting in Esther’s condo,” I continued. “And I’m sure she’s done it here in mine, too.”

“That’s strange. I wonder what that’s about.”

“I’ve wondered myself. Maybe she’s disturbed by symmetry? And—this is giving her some benefit of the doubt—it could be that her vision is a bit skewed. She might believes she’s straightening them. But that’s not the strangest thing Francesca’s done. She’s on Ambien and it makes her sleepwalk. One night I woke to find her standing over me in the dark, with a life-sized baby doll clutched to her chest. I screamed and she ran out.”

“How terrifying!”

“You’re telling me.”

“How did she get in?”

“That’s the thing. I have no idea..”

“What a bunch of characters.”

“Oh, there’s more.” With a small brush I swiped the ‘sea glass’ paint above the baseboards. “In one-oh-eight is a woman named Tiare Māhoe”

“The name’s familiar.”

“Apparently she was some kind of entertainer, back in the day.”

“A singer, I think.”

 “She has lovely bone structure, had to have been a very attractive woman when she was young. Tiare and Kaulana lead our kanikapila gatherings on Tuesdays. They sing beautifully together. Tiare is the self-appointed ringleader here. Everyone defers to her. No one does a thing without her blessing. She seems to disapprove of me, but I’m trying to do everything I can to get on her good side and stay there.

“Coralee, in one-oh-nine, leads our aqua jogging on Mondays. According to Vee-oh-lette, Coralee had gastric bypass surgery and lost more than half her body weight. She certainly looks amazing now for a woman near eighty.”

Louise said, “Aqua jogging must be good exercise.”

“It is, if Coralee is anything to judge by. I’m planning to give it another try tomorrow. One-ten is where Pearl—the woman who was murdered—lived.

“I saw the crime scene tape.”

“Pearl taught country western line dancing here on Thursdays. From what I gather, the women all enjoyed her class, but no one seems to have liked Pearl very much. At sixty-five, she was a good fifteen to twenty years younger than the rest of them. Why she wanted to live here, I can’t imagine.”

“The only place she could find with a mirrored ceiling in the bedroom?”

 I laughed. “You might be right. It seems Pearl was quite sexually active and liked to brag about it. I suspect it made the others jealous. I imagine Pearl as a rebel. Brash, flashy, someone who did she wanted without a care about what others might say. Which makes me think I might’ve gotten along well with her. I’m truly sorry I never got a chance to know her.

“Sylvie, a retired stewardess, lives in one-eleven. She’s the only resident who dates back to Kon-Tiki’s heyday in the sixties. According to Sylvie, there were a lot of wild goings-on here, though I don’t know how much of what she says can be believed.” I tapped the side of my head.

“Not quite all there?”

“She wears her panties on the outside of her swimsuit. When the police officer gathered us in the clubhouse after Pearl’s body was found, Sylvie thought he was a priest. She tried to make confession to him.”

“She wanted to confess to the murder?”

“Not at all. At that time everyone believed Pearl had simply drowned, though I’m not sure Sylvie fully understood that Pearl was dead. No, she wanted to confess that Pearl was not a natural redhead. Sylvie helped her dye her hair.”

“Okey dokey.”

“Sylvie’s always blurting out the most outrageous things. I don’t know if it’s the booze, the pills, dementia, or if she does it for shock value. Probably a combination of all those things. Tiare polices Sylvie, trying to keep her language in check. Thursday the two of them almost came to blows with their canes.

Louise, who’d been holding back a grin, let loose with a full-on belly laugh. “I can just see it.”

“The only man in the building, aside from the manager, is Arnie. He lives in one-twelve. Arnie’s very sweet, but the poor man has short-term memory loss. According to Esther, Arnie’s meds didn’t agree with him so he’s stopped taking them. Arnie forgets his own name and which unit he lives in. When he’s swimming laps he even forgets to breathe. Romy stands by the pool calling out, ‘Breathe!’ at regular intervals, and in general looks out for Arnie. Needless to say, Arnie gets a lot of attention from the women. They’re quite competitive about cooking for him. Friday night while the others were at TV night, I stayed home and cooked myself a broccoli casserole. I nearly died of fright when I turned around and there was Arnie, sitting at my dining table like he was waiting for dinner. Arnie’s Jewish, and since it was Shabbat I didn’t feel I could very well ask him to leave. I shared my dinner with him, and now I’m afraid the women believe I have my eye on Arnie too.”

We worked until the bedroom was done, then cleaned up and stored the leftover paint in the hall closet. After washing up, we sat in the living room with a bottle of wine and slices of cheddar.

I was about to tell Louise about our first Neighborhood Watch patrol, when she said, “So do the police have any idea who killed Pearl?”

“As far as I’ve heard, they have no evidence at all.”

“You say no one could’ve gotten inside the complex without Romy being aware”

“So he says. He does seem a bit lazy and I’m not sure how diligently he keeps an eye on things at night. Pearl’s body was inside the pool fence, which Romy insists was locked.”

“So somebody needed to get past Romy, and also needed a key to get into the pool area.”

“That’s right.”

“You say Pearl wasn’t well liked by the other women.”

I had a feeling I knew where Louise was going with this.

“Is there any chance,” she said, “that it was an side job?”

 

C

Chapter 24 Louise

 

“You’ve done a lot,” Louise said, surveying my living room. My step-daughter looks nothing like her father, who was dark-skinned with a head of black hair, deep brown eyes, and a scholarly demeanor. Louise is lucky to have inherited her mother’s curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and slim build—although she does sport her father’s distinctly Jewish nose. She’s tanned, lightly freckled across the cheeks, and has the hard muscles of someone who does physical work for a living. Today she was dressed in denim shorts and a pink tank top that set off her tan.

“There’s still a lot more I want to do,” I said.

“Like what?”

“For starters, I’d like to paint walls.” They were a sickly shade of off-white, marred with decades-worth of grime and scuffmarks.

“I remember your blood-red walls in New York.”

Louise had such a look of dismay when she saw the way I’d redecorated the apartment she grew up in, erasing all traces of her mother. “At the time it seemed like a good backdrop for my African art and furniture. I gave most of that to a museum before I moved here.”

“The zebra skin rug and the wildebeest chair?”

“Gone. And the masks, textiles, paintings, and carved statues. I’m ready for a fresh start. Something lighter … more tropical.”

“Anything in mind?”

“I’m thinking along the lines of  sea green walls.”

“I like that.”

“I want to start with the bedroom, since that’s where I go to relax.”

“Can I see it?”

I led her down the short hallway.

 She entered the bedroom and nodded with approval. “The furniture fits well in here.”

Louise had taken me shopping for the most essential items to get me started. At Ross’s Furniture For Less I got the full-size bed, dresser, and nightstand for a song and had them delivered the day I moved in.

“The Hawaiian quilt is perfect, ” she added. Her gaze rose, and stopped at the mirror on the ceiling.

“I know,” I said. “It was here when I moved in. This was once a swinging singles complex. None of the previous owners of this unit ever bothered to get rid of the mirror.”

Louise grinned. “Are you thinking of keeping it?”

“Oh, heavens no. I’ll be making arrangements to have it removed.

Finally, Louise pulled her eyes from the ceiling. “I think sea-green walls would be a nice contrast to the red and white quilt. Do you feel like shopping for paint?”

“You mean now?” I’d imagined a leisurely lunch of sandwiches by the pool.

“If you’re up to it. We could hit Home Depot, then grab some lunch to go.”

“I’m game if you’re game. I just need to get ready—”

“You’re fine. This is Hawaii, remember? It’s ‘come as you are’ just about anywhere here.”

We got into Louise’s BMW Z-4. She put the top down and peeled out of the parking lot and into steady traffic.

***

“Lillian.” Louise’s voice penetrated my deep sleep.

“Huh?” I righted my sunglasses and squinted through them into glaring light.

“We’re back at your place.”

“Oh dear. I guess I fell asleep.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure you needed the rest.”

We took our purchases—cans of paint called ‘beach glass,’ rollers, brushes, masking tape, tarps, and lunch from Subway—out of the trunk.

“You need a shopping cart,” Louise said.

“I know. That’s what I keep telling myself.” I unlocked the door.

 “I’ll put this stuff in the bedroom while you set the table for lunch.” Louise turned down the hallway with the paint supplies.

I left our sandwiches and iced teas in the kitchen made a quick trip to the bathroom. A glance in the mirror made me gasp. My eyes were puffy and my windblown hair stood out like a fright wig. I splashed cold water on my face and ran a brush through my hair.

“I’m starving,” Louise said, taking the seat across from me at the dining table and unwrapping her foot-long sub.

I nodded and we concentrated on our food for a while without speaking.

Louise set her sandwich down, took a long drink of iced tea, and let out a satisfied sigh.. “So how is it, living here?”

“Hawai‘i couldn’t be more beautiful. I can see why you love it so much. I’m certainly looking forward to a winter with no snow.”

“It is a special place. But how do you like living at Kon-Tiki Sands?”

“Aside from finding a dead body the first time I went to the pool?” I took another bite of my sandwich to give myself time to formulate an answer. “Life at Kon-Tiki is a world away from life at Stuy Town. In New York I had endless choices of social activities, when I wanted them. But when I felt like being reclusive, which was often, I was free to that as well. In that city of ten million I could go for days without seeing another person if I chose not to. Here, with only twelve residents—well, eleven really, since Pearl died—there’s no option of anonymity. They know each other well, and meddle in each other’s business to no end. Being the new kid on the block, I’m the object of everyone’s constant scrutiny.

“There’s a list of activities for each day of the week posted on the bulletin board, right next to the mailboxes where no one can claim to have missed it. I learned early on that participation is mandatory, at least if one wants to get along here. And most of the activities involve a pot luck. I hadn’t anticipated that Wednesday when we went on our first shopping trip. I keep coming up short where food is concerned.”

“I don’t think they can force to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Force, no. But coercion, most definitely. I’ve tried to show myself friendly. This past week I’ve done everything from aqua jogging, to sitting in on a Christian Bible Study, to playing poker for pills. I want to be accepted by my neighbors, because I have a feeling there’d be hell to pay if they ever decide they don’t want me here.”

The image of Pearl’s dead body flashed in my head. My hand flew to cover my eyes, as if that would block it out.

Before I could consider what it meant, Louise said, “Poker for pills? Seriously?”

I dropped my hand. “Aside from alcohol, substance abuse seems to be the coping method of choice among the residents here.” I chuckled. “You should’ve seen the way they jumped on my prescription stool softeners when I showed up at the poker game. They were high currency. Apparently all those opioids can back up a person’s system.”