Chapter 18 Ambien Sleepwalk

 My heart banged against my ribs. Blood throbbed in my ears. Conscious of my vulnerability, all I could do was gape back, sucking in panicked breaths.

Then I realized my intruder wasn’t a man. Could it be …?

“Francesca?” I whispered.

She didn’t move or utter a sound.

My heart slowed, but only a little. Francesca was a large woman, built like a mountaineer. I had no doubt she could overpower me easily. If she’d been holding anything else, I might’ve tried to scramble to the far side of the bed and see if I could out-maneuver her. But what was she going to do to me with a baby doll?

“Francesca!” I said louder. “What are you doing here?”

She stared for another brief moment, then turned away and walked calmly out of the bedroom. I heard my front door close.

The moment she was gone, I ran through the living room and flipped the deadbolt. How had she gotten in here? Checking the door locks before I go to bed is the habit of a lifetime.

Then I remembered I’d left Esther sleeping—

I spun and looked at the couch.

It was empty, the folded blanket on the armrest.

***

I checked the time. Four-thirty a.m. I was worried about Esther, but didn’t want to wake her if she’d gone back home and was sleeping off last night’s bender.

I sent her a text: Let me know you made it home OK.

After the scare I’d just had, I’d never go back to sleep. I needed a distraction. I powered up my laptop and watched a woman on Youtube make a perfect loaf of challah.

In the kitchen I got out a large mixing bowl, flour, a packet of yeast, honey, oil, five eggs, and salt. After proofing the yeast in warm water and honey, I added flour, a cup at a time. Kneading the dough felt good, allowing me to burn off some of my pent-up energy. I might just make this a habit.

When the dough was smooth and elastic, I put it in an oiled bowl, laid a towel over it, and left it to rise.

Gray light filtered through the semi-sheer kitchen curtains. The newspaper should be here by now. I opened the door and took a moment to marvel at the clear sky and the incredible quiet of early morning, broken only by cooing doves and chattering mynah birds.

The newspaper peeked out from under the bushes. I stepped off the concrete porch to retrieve it and saw the bold headline:  One Dead, Another Wounded in Chinatown Shooting. Shaking my head at the senseless loss of life, I took it inside and set it on the table. It seemed that even in this island paradise there was more than enough crime to keep the police busy.

I made a cup of strong black tea and settled at the dining table to read the paper. Only when I flipped it over did I see the two-by-three inch color photo of Pearl. The snapshot wasn’t professional quality, but her mass of curly auburn hair, sparkling eyes, and vibrant smile spoke of a woman who clearly loved life. I wouldn’t have recognized her as the body in the hot tub. Sadness pierced me and I grabbed a napkin to dry my eyes before reading the short article.

68-Year-Old Woman’s Drowning Ruled a Homicide.

The death of a 68-year-old woman who drowned Monday has been ruled a homicide. Pearl Corvelli  was a resident of Kon Tiki Sands, a 55-and-up condominium complex on Housten St. According to the medical examiner’s report,she had been dead for several hours when her body was discovered by another resident in the heart-shaped hot tub on the premises. There are no suspects at this time.

My stomach rumbled with hunger. It seemed almost irreverent to eat after reading about Pearl’s death, but I supposed starving myself wouldn’t help her any. I slip two slices of bread into the toaster, cut a papaya in half and scraped out the seeds. When the toast popped up, I buttered it and spread it with guava jelly.

While I ate, I leafed through the rest of the paper. I pulled out the Detours section—a  detour was exactly what I needed. I did the Word Game, then turned to the New York Times crossword. The puzzles increase in difficulty through the week, Monday’s being the easiest. Today’s was a killer. I struggled with it till I’d filled in nearly half the answers, then pushed it aside.

By now the dough had risen to one and a half times its size. I punched it down, kneaded it again, and added a little more flour. Dividing the dough into three equal parts, I rolled each into a long rope, then braided them together. The finished loaf went on a baking sheet lined with parchment, where it would rise for another two hours before going in the oven.

I threw together a simple casserole of broccoli, eggs, shredded cheese, adding a little salt and pepper for taste. Next, I assembled a small salad of lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers and put it in the fridge. Tonight all I’d need to do was warm the casserole. I looked forward to lighting the Shabbat candles and having a nice, quiet dinner for one.

I cleaned up the kitchen, made the bed, and wiped away the little bit of dust that had settled on the furniture. In such a small condo there was really very little that needed to be done. Then I noticed the painting above the sofa. It was just a little off-kilter. How did that happen? I was certain it hadn’t been that way last night. I kneeled on the couch to straighten it, then stood back to make sure it was even. I glanced around the room. My eyes landed on the framed photo of Kameron and Kamili on the side table. Yesterday I’d set the frame at a careful angle so their faces could be seen while sitting on the sofa. It had been moved, just a little. I set it right and checked the rest of the condo.

Nothing else seemed to be out of place.

I showered and put on olive green stretch capris and a tank top with a tropical floral print. Although some of the ladies at Kon Tiki dressed to impress and kept regular appointments with their manicurists and hair stylists, I felt Hawaii’s warm weather and laid-back lifestyle allowed for a more casual appearance. Here I was not at all self-conscious about foregoing makeup, brushing my wet hair back from my face and leaving it to its own devices.

Esther still hadn’t responded to my text. I dialed her number.

She picked up on the fifth ring. “Lillian?” She didn’t sound so good.

“Esther, are you okay?”

She groaned. “I got me a devil of a headache.”

“Did you take something for it?”

“I took two Excedrin with a glass a water.”

“That should help.”

“An’ I just got done makin’ a big pot of coffee. Want me to bring it over?”

“Yes. I need to talk to you.”

“See you in ten minutes,” she said.

I set the oven to preheat to 350 degrees. When it beeped, I slid the challah onto the center rack and set the kitchen timer for thirty minutes.

There was a tap on the door. I peered through the peep hole, saw a fish-eye view of Esther holding a coffee carafe. I flipped the deadbolt and held the door open for her.

She slipped out of her shoes and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee followed her inside.

I was bursting to tell her about Francesca, but she spoke first. “Lordy, lordy, what a night.” She set the carafe on the table, slid onto a dining chair, and let her head sink into her hands.

I needed to get some coffee into her so she’d be alert enough to listen to my story. I filled two large mugs and sat opposite Esther. “Here. Drink up.”

“Got any milk an’ sugar?”

I fetched them for her and she added generous amounts of both into her coffee.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep on your couch last night,” she said as she stirred. “I was feelin’ kinda woozy.” She took a long drink and sighed. “This is what I need.”

“Can I get you something to eat—some toast?”

“Not right now.” She rested a hand below her breasts. “My stomach’s not quite settled yet.”

“You’re welcome to sleep here any time.” I sipped my black coffee. It was delicious. Maybe I should get me a coffee maker. “It’s just that when I saw the empty couch, I was worried about you. I didn’t want to disturb you if you were sleeping, so I sent a text.”

 “I didn’t mean to worry you. I woke up around two in the mornin’ with my stomach doin’ flip-flops. I thought it best I go home so as not to wake you up with any unpleasantness. And it’s a good thing, too. I barely made it to my toilet before I threw up. I passed out again on my bed and didn’t know anything more till eight o’clock. That’s when the sun hit my eyes and I had a splittin’ headache.”

She glanced toward the oven. “Something smells good in here.”

“I just put a loaf of challah in the oven. For shabbat dinner tonight.”

“Mmmm.”

“I couldn’t go back to sleep, and decided making bread would be a good way to pass the time. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

“I wish I could. But my church has Praise Service on Friday nights. I’m in the choir.”

 “I had a rough night myself. A quiet dinner alone is probably what I need.”

“You got a hangover too?”

“No.” I looked her in the eyes. “I had an intruder last night.”

“Say what?”

“Esther—do you remember locking my door when you went home?”

Her eyes widened as she thought about it. “I wish I could say I remember locking it. But all I remember is thinking I had to get back to my place before I threw up everywhere.”

“I do appreciate you not wanting to throw up on my new couch.”

“What happened?”

 “I woke up around four to use the bathroom. It was pretty dark but I sensed someone in the room with me.”

Esther’s eyes bulged. Chickenskin broke out on her arms and she rubbed them. “You gotta be kidding me,” she whispered.

“It took a minute for my eyes to adjust. First I thought it was a man standing there staring down at me.”

“But … you’re telling me it wasn’t a man?”

I shook my head.

“Ohmygod. What … was it?”

“It was a who, not a what. ” I paused. “It was Francesca. And she was holding a baby doll.”

Esther’s eyes were still locked on mine. Her jaw dropped. A moment passed before she said, “Francesca is on Ambien. It makes her sleepwalk.”

“You knew that and you left my door unlocked?” I said none too gently.

“She’s never bothered anyone. She just walks around with that baby doll of hers.”

“Do you have any idea how terrified I was?”

“Oh God, Lillian. I am so sorry.”

“She almost scared me to death. Literally. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt.”

“I … I don’t know what to say.”

I laid a hand on her arm and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry for raising my voice. I know you didn’t mean any harm.” I stared at the floor for a long moment. “Do the police know about Francesca?”

“The police? Why would the police need to—” Esther gave her head a barely perceptible shake.

“Think about it. All those items going missing. And now Pearl …” I let that thought hang.

“No. Uh uh. You can’t be thinking—”

“I’m not thinking anything. But from what I’ve heard about Pearl, it would’ve taken a strong person to overpower her. Francesca looks pretty strong to me.”

“Francesca would  never …” She kept shaking her head.

“And what’s with the doll?”

“No one knows.”

 

Chapter 17 Nighttime Visitation

 “Esther. Are you okay?”

She swiped beads of sweat from her forehead with one hand and fanned herself with the other. “Can a seventy-nine-year-old woman get a hot flash? Because I think I’m getting one.”

“Do you have high blood pressure?”

“Right now, I do.”

“Do you take pills?”

“Never. You got any whiskey you can splash in this tea?”

“I thought Baptists didn’t drink alcohol.” I was already up and reaching into the cabinet for the bottle.

“We’re allowed for medicinal purposes. If my blood pressure gets too high I could have a stroke—maybe even die. Jesus wouldn’t want that to happen to me.”

“No, I’m sure he wouldn’t.” I sat and poured a good dollop of the amber elixir into both our mugs. I raised mine. “L’chaim.”

Esther took a slow sip. Then another. Within minutes she seemed more herself again.

“Okay, the report’s done,” I said. “Let’s sit in the living room and get comfortable.” I refilled our cups with tea, added more whiskey, and set them on the coffee table. Then I retrieved the peas and broccoli from the freezer settled the vegetables on my knees. “Do you think the ladies enjoyed our walk tonight?”

“You know, I think they did. Everyone’s been so sad since Pearl died—not to mention how scared we all are. I know we were supposed to be out there looking for the killer, but this was the first time we managed to get our minds offa Pearl since she died.” She took a big slug of the spiked tea, then looked to me. “Hey, I’m sorry about that Jewish comment Tiare made.”

“It’s okay. I’ve heard worse.”

“I get you. I tried to help, but I mighta only made things worse.”

“It was just good to see them let loose and have a good laugh, even if some of it was at my expense. I think it was exactly what they needed.”

“Except for Mae,” Esther said.

“Yeah. What got into her? She didn’t seem to get where the sausage talk was going at all.”

“I know. She done get on her high horse about processed meat. Maybe she thought we were laughin’ at her.” Esther’s speech was coming slower, her words beginning to slur. She let her head fall back against the couch.

“You did all laugh at her.”

“I guess we did.” Her eyes closed and her head went into a slow nodding motion. “Mae is an odd one. Sometimes she jokes around with the rest of us, then something will set her off and she heads home to sulk.”

“She does seem overly sensitive, especially when the conversation turns to men.” I set my cup down and turned to face her. “Esther?”

She opened one eye and looked at me. “What?”

“You don’t think Mae’s batting for the other team, do you?”

Esther frowned. She pushed herself upright, her eyes widening. “Oh—do you mean …?”

I nodded.

“I don’t know. She loves her frilly mu‘umu‘us and those slippers with the big plastic flowers on them. If anyone’s butch, it’s Francesca.”

“Maybe Mae’s over-compensating.”

“Over-comp …,” Esther mumbled as her eyes close again. A long minute passed before she said, “You see how competitive the women are over Arnie. But now that you mention it, Mae’s the only one—besides me, of course—who’s never claimed to be having sex with him.”

“Arnie? Seriously? He’s got to be at least eighty.”

“Seriously. Word is, he’s ‘still a man.’ At Pearl’s last line dance class before she died, she was bragging on how Arnie made her socks roll up and down.”

I choked on my tea and and sputtered. “I’ve never heard that expression before.”

“That was our Pearl. Always full of wit.”

Esther fell quiet. I put the vegetables back in the freezer and washed the teacups. As I was putting them away I heard a loud snore. Esther was stretched out on the couch, a throw pillow under her head. I found a light blanket and spread it over her.

I changed into my nightgown and got into bed. The old woman on the ceiling gazed down at me. By now I was quite used to her company.

“I can’t believe the way those women behaved tonight,” I told her. “Don’t tell me this what happens when a woman’s been too long without a husband.”

Her smile was sympathetic.

“Dear God please take me before I live long enough to make such a fool of myself over a man,” I muttered.

Esther’s lusty snores rasped through the thin wall. I glanced at the bedside clock. The neon green numbers clicked from nine-fifty-nine to ten p.m. “Arnie seems nice enough,” I said to my reflection. “But he sure isn’t much to look at. And he’s got the personality of drying paint. Do you think there might be more to him than meets the eye?”

At some point during the night, an ache in by bladder pulled me to consciousness and I realized I’d been asleep. I listened for Esther’s snores but heard only rustling palm fronds, the occasional chirp of a gecko, the distant hum of passing cars. Had Esther gone home?

I forced my eyes open and let out a sigh. If I wanted to go back to sleep, there was nothing for it but to make my middle-of-the-night potty run. I was about to comment to the woman in the mirror about how much I hate getting old, when I froze.

Someone was in the room with me.

“Esther?”

No answer.

I raised myself on my elbows, my eyes darting around the room. There, not three feet from me, I made out a tall figure. He stood stock-still, his eyes locked on me—and in his arms he gripped a large baby doll.

I opened my mouth to scream, but not a sound came out.

Chapter 16 Let's Call Him B.O.B.

 

It was fully dark when we reached Kon-Tiki Sands. Mae didn’t slow as she pushed her walker through the automatic door and headed for home.

“Maybe I should stop by her condo tomorrow,” I said. “Check up on her.”

Tiare said, “Nah. She’ll get over it. She always does.”

“She probably just needs to pee,” Sylvie said. “I know I do.” She took off at a near-run.

“Me too,” Kaulana said as she sped her scooter down the walkway. “Aloha!”

“It is past my supper time,” Francesca said.

Violet and Coralee made their excuses and disappeared, leaving Esther and I alone.

“Want to help me write up the report?” I asked her.

“We gotta write a report?”

“Tonight there isn’t much to report. Nothing to notify the police about. But I think it’s a good idea to keep a written record of what happens each time we patrol the neighborhood. Something that seemed insignificant tonight might turn out to be important later.”

“Makes sense.”

Romy’s door opened and he leaned out. “Ladies, how’d it go tonight?”

“I think it went well enough, for our first time out,” I said. “We covered several square blocks.”

“I was a little worried when you weren’t back by seven. Pearl’s killer is still out there …” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

I said, “As long as we all stick together we should be fine.”

“There’s safety in numbers,” Esther added.

Romy gave a nod. “You’re probably right about that, but you still shouldn’t be out after dark. Did you see anything unusual?”

I exchanged a quick look with Esther. “This neighborhood’s all new to me. There are things I never saw in Manhattan. It’ll take some time before I know what’s the norm around here.”

“A car alarm went off,” Esther said. “We spoke with the owner and he thanked us for patrolling the area.”

“Good job, ladies. You just be careful out there. By the way, the police took down the crime scene tape today. I drained the hot tub to clean it, so it’ll be closed for a while, but the pool will be open tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I said, wondering if anyone would ever use the hot tub again.

I unlocked my door and we left our shoes outside, Hawaiian style. Esther hurried in and fell to the couch with a great sigh, stretching her legs or in front of her. “Hooooeeee. I am done for. That’s the most I’ve walked in ages.”

I lowered myself to the other end of the couch. “I walked a lot in New York—I had to. But my knees aren’t as young as they used to be. Soon as I catch my breath, I need to ice them.”

“You got ice packs in your freezer?”

“Just frozen peas and broccoli.”

“I’ll get those for you.”

“I can do it—”

“No, no. You sit and rest yourself. We gotta take care of your knees because you’re the Team Captain. Without you there’d be no Neighborhood Watch.”

Grunting, she used the armrest to struggle to her feet, and headed for the kitchen. “Got any kitchen towels?”

“Second drawer.”

She wrapped two bags of frozen vegetables in towels, brought them to the living room, and placed one on each of my knees.”

“You’re a godsend, Esther. Thank you.”

“No problem. You got anything to eat? After all that talk about food, I’m starving.”

“You’re welcome to anything you find—but the peas and broccoli are taken.”

“You just sit here. I’ll make us some tea and put together something for us to eat.”

More than ever, tonight I longed for a cold glass of Chardonnay, but I wanted to be respectful of Esther’s beliefs.

Esther rummaged in the fridge. “You don’t got much in here. It’s no wonder you stay so skinny.”

I’m a far cry from skinny, but supposed the term was relative and accepted it as a compliment.

There was barely room for Esther to turn around in my tiny kitchen, but in no time she’d set the table with two mugs of hot tea, sliced olive bread, a block of sharp white cheddar cheese, and a bunch of purple grapes. “Okay. Come and eat!”

I hobbled to put the vegetables back in the freezer and slid into the chair across the table from Esther. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem,” she said, buttering a slice of bread.”

I ate some grapes and a wedge of cheese, then put my dish in the sink. “Go ahead and keep eating. I’m going to start working on the report.”

I brought my laptop to the table. After skimming the instructions in the Neighborhood Watch Handbook,  I created a Word document titled Neighborhood Watch Report. “I’ll write a short paragraph about the car alarm incident.”

“You don’t have to say it was me that set it off, do you?”

“No. I don’t think that’s really relevant.” I typed a couple of lines, briefly describing what happened. “Okay. Next, it says I need to describe any unusual activity we may have witnessed.”

“Define unusual.”

“Something you don’t see every day?”

“There definitely was that.” She grabbed a Neighborhood Watch brochure and fanned her face. “Whew.”

“It has been a hot night.” I read aloud as I typed, “Person or persons involved: one male. Name: unavailable.”

“I don’t like calling him unavailable. I think we should name him.”

“Name him?”

She nodded.

“What would you like to name him?”

 She thought for a moment. “Let’s call him Bob.”

“Bob?”

“For boy oh boy.”

“Got it. B.O.B. Age?”

“Young enough to be our grandson.”

“I’ll write early thirties. Race?”

“He looked like a Pacific Islander.”

I typed it. “Hair?”

“A long, thick wavy ponytail …”

“Long, curly pony tail. Complexion?”

Esther let out a deep sigh. “Sweet milk chocolate.”

I stopped typing and eyed her for a moment. “Seriously?”

“Sorry.” She closed her eyes and prayed, “Dear Jesus forgive me for the unclean thoughts I was about to have.”

“I’ll write tawny. Clothing?”

“Tight blue jeans that hugged his thighs … and then … oh Jesus …” All of a sudden Esther didn’t look so good.

 

Chapter 15 Watching

Open carports lined the alley. Here and there, porch lights shed a dim yellow glow on the pitted ground. A couple of small cinderblock apartment buildings rose between the one-story houses. Sounds of dinner preparations and aromas of teriyaki chicken, fish, and frying onions wafted through open kitchen windows.

“Everyone be really careful through here,” I said. “There are potholes everywhere.”

Esther said, “Those smells are making me hungry.”

“We’ll be home in a ten minutes,” I said.

We trudged a few more yards in silence. Movement behind a second floor apartment window caught my eye. Needing an excuse to rest, I halted and leaned on my cane.

Esther, who’d been following too close, slammed into me, nearly knocking me to the ground.

“Oops—sorry,” she said, grabbing my arm to steady me.

I held up a hand to quiet her, my eyes trained on the window.

Violet and Mae pulled up on either side of us and sat on their walkers. Kaulana stopped her scooter. Silvie, Francesca, and Coralee gathered near.

“What d’you see, Lillian?” Mae asked.

I pointed.

A young man stood facing the curtainless window, his café-au-lait skin illuminated by a standing lamp. His curly brown hair was pulled into a ponytail that fell halfway down his back. He stared blankly at the glass, fingering the top button of his blue chambray shirt.

“Can he see us?” Esther whispered.

“It’s too dark out here,” I said. “He’s gotta be looking at his own reflection.”

“That boy’s got some long legs,” Coralee said.

“Oooh,” said Tiare. “Long is good. Long legs, long hair, long …”

A hush fell as he worked the buttons open, one by one. The last button fell loose. He eased the shirt off well-muscled shoulders and let it drop to the floor. His rock-hard abs cast chiseled shadows …

I know, I know. It sounds like a cheesy romance novel. But that’s exactly what is was like—a scene out of a cheesy romance novel.

“Look at those muscles,” Violet said.

Esther whispered, “He must work really hard.”

“A hard man is good to find,” said Coralee.

“Shhhh,” Tiare hissed.

The young man tilted his head to one shoulder, then the other, as if to loosen a crick in his neck. There was a collective gasp from the ladies as he reached for the fly of his Levis, then popped the brass button free.

He slid the zipper down. One hand reached behind his head. His bicep bulged as he massaged the back of his neck.

Violet said, “I could take care of that stiffness.”

Tiare shushed her.

Kaulana whispered, “Come let Auntie Kaulana give you some lomi lomi.”

“You mean some punani,” Tiare said.

What was this, Junior High? I wanted to shoot each of them my most incredulous look, but didn’t dare take my eyes off the window. I wasn’t about to miss what came next.

With a thumb hooked in each side of his waistband he, ever so slowly, eased the jeans down over narrow hips. I began to wonder if he could be aware he had an audience, because he sure seemed to be playing us.

“Come to Mama …” Coralee breathed out

“Big deal,” Mae said impatiently. “You’ve seen one, you’ve seen ’em all.”

“Shhhh,” Tiare repeated, louder this time.

His jeans fell. He stepped out of them.

“Lordy, lordy, lordy,” Esther intoned as she bent over and did a stomping dance in a tight circle.

Francesca let out a low wolf whistle.

“Sweet Jesus,” said Kaulana.

Coralee said, “Amen, sister.”

“Boy oh boy,” Tiare breathed.

“Cockadoodledoooooo!” Sylvie sang out, having recovered nicely from her earlier funk.

Tiare shushed her. “Quiet. He’ll hear us.”

The group fell silent. We were treated to fifteen seconds of the Full Monty while he laced his fingers behind his head and stretched his arms back. My hand flew to my chest. My heart thudded so hard against my ribs, I wondered how much more it could take.

Then he turned and disappeared through a doorway, no doubt saving me from a heart attack.

A minute passed before anyone recovered the power of speech. “I zink vee go home now,” Francesca said. “Show eez over.”

Sylvie said, “I say we wait. He has to come back out.”

In spite of my throbbing knees, I was tempted. “He’s probably taking a shower,” I said. “It could be a while.”

“Let’s take a vote,” Coralee said. “Who wants to go home?”

No one voted to leave.

“My knees are killing me,” I said. “I need to find a place to sit.”

Violet stood. “Here, Lillian. You sit on my walker.”

I eased myself onto the padded leopard-print seat and closed my eyes. After a few minutes my heart rate slowed and my breathing returned to normal. I was in the middle of a fantasy of frozen bags of vegetables on my knees, when a deafening screech shattered the silence.

I leapt to my feet, my heart beating wildly, my breath coming in gasps as a blaring siren echoed between the buildings.

“It’s a car alarm,” Coralee shouted above the cacophony.

We gaped up and down the alley, unable to tell which direction it was coming from.

I spotted Esther in an open carport, her brown eyes bulging in panic as she struggled her bulk off the bumper of a pickup truck. Her lips moved but the alarm drowned out her words.

The back door of the house flew open. A local man pounded down the steps. “Who wen’ touch my truck?” he roared. He saw Esther, came to a halt, and silenced the alarm.

“Wasn’t me,” Esther said the instant the noise stopped. “I didn’t touch your truck.”

She was lying like a five-year-old caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but as Team Captain I felt I needed to back her up.

 I hobbled as fast as I could with the aid of my cane, and stood beside her. “We’re the Neighborhood Watch group.” I tugged on my tee shirt to prove it. “We’re patrolling the area.”

“You seen anyone near my truck, Auntie?”

“No, sir,” I said. “We were just passing through when we heard the alarm. We hurried over to investigate, but there was no one around.”

He looked dubiously at our patrol of nine elderly ladies with our matching neon shirts and various mobility aids.

Tiare stepped forward. “This will go in tonight’s report. We’ll add this alley to our regular route for a while. Just to make sure everything’s okay.”

The woman lies without flinching and thinks fast on her feet. Had she been a lawyer?

“T’ank you, Aunties,” the man said. “I really ’preciate you looking out for da neighborhood.” He waved a hand and turned toward the steps. “Take care now. Have a good night.”

“You too,” we all called out. “Aloha.”

When he’d gone into his house, I turned back to the building across the alley. The window where we’d seen the young man was now dark. “He must’ve finished his shower,” I said. “Looks like we missed him.”

“I guess there won’t be no hana hou tonight,” Kaulana said,

Sylvie said, “Esther, if you haven’t parked your oversized ‘okole on that man’s truck …”

“Enough!” Francesca barked. “I am hungry.”

“And exactly what are you hungry for?” Sylvie asked.

“I vould like a nice hot bratwurst.”

“Wouldn’t we all,” said Violet.

This set off shrieks of laughter.

“Thanks to Esther, you’ll have to wait till next Thursday night for more bratwurst!” Coralee hooted.

“Nein,” Francesca said. “Tonight I vill have bratwurst in my home. You vill see.”

“I prefer a nice, thick kielbasa slathered with Grey Poupon,” said Violet, patting her hair into place.

“I love those foot-long hot dogs,” Sylvie giggled. “You know, the ones that plump when you cook ’em!”

“None of that for me.” Coralee licked her lips. “I need heat … like a spicy Italian sausage.”

“Yesssss, something hot,” Kaulana sighed with a glance toward the darkened window. “A big, fat Portuguese sausage.”

“A delicious knackwurst satisfies me,” murmured Tiare. She eyed me. “Too bad Jews don’t eat sausage.”

I bristled, but before I could reply, Violet said, “You’re telling me you never tasted sausage, Lillian?”

“Lillian’s a vegetarian,” Esther said.

“Meat will never pass through her lips,” said Coralee.

More laughter.

My cheeks flushed. I could not believe the turn the conversation had taken. Then I remembered how, twenty minutes ago, the women had almost come to blows. At least now they were having a good time, even if it was at my expense.

I decided to play along. “Nothing goes in my mouth unless it’s kosher.”

“Woo hoo, Lillian!” Coralee said.

Above the hoots and guffaws, Sylvie said, “Hey—I hear Arnie’s kosher.”

The laughter came to an abrupt halt. Silence fell over the group. Even in the dark I felt Kaulana, Coralee, Violet, Tiare, and Francesca hit me with lethal stares.

Mae set her hands on her hips. “What is wrong with all of you?” She glared at each of the ladies in turn.

I shot her a grateful look for coming to my defense.

“Sausages are filled with nitrites, preservatives and fat,” Mae said. “In numerous studies, processed meats have been linked to cancer and heart disease. Not to mention they’re full of calories.”

“Gee Mae, you don’t eat sausage?” Sylvie asked innocently.

“No way. I take care of my health and you should too.”

The laughter resumed.

Mae stared at the others as if they’d gone crazy. “I’m going home,” she huffed, and headed down the alley, the wheels of her walker grinding over the gravelly pavement.

“I think we all need to be going,” I said, and started after Mae’s retreating figure.

As we made our way back to Kon Tiki Sands, I spotted Mae’s short, stocky figure ahead of us, pushing her walker with determination, as if she didn’t want anybody to know she was part of our group.