Mr. Monk Goes to Hawaii by Goldberg, Lee (best large ebook reader .txt) 📗

and I would shell a large bag of roasted peanuts, mix everything up, and compete to see who could reassemble the most nuts. Then we’d eat them. Those were some wild, wild times.”

Looking past Monk, I noticed Lance Vaughan at the front desk with his luggage. He appeared to be checking out.

“Mr. Monk, look.”

He shook his head. “I thought we settled that.”

“Not at me, at the front desk.”

Monk glanced at the front desk, then turned back and smiled at the proprietress. “This has been great. Really rad.”

“Rad?” I said.

Monk looked at me, forgetting for an instant that I was in a bikini top. He quickly averted his eyes.

“Yes. That’s what they say now. You really ought to try to stay in step with popular culture or you’ll be left behind.” Monk turned to the proprietress again. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“We’re closed tomorrow,” she said.

“When will you be back?”

“When are you going home?”

“Tuesday,” he said.

“Wednesday,” she said.

“Why are you closed so long?”

“A family emergency,” she said.

Monk sighed sadly. “Are there any other shark tooth attractions on the island?”

“There are lots of places that have shark teeth,” she said. “Lots of places outside the hotel.”

“Oh, good, because I’m just getting warmed up,” Monk said. He glanced over my head, which was his way of looking at me without looking at me. “Maybe you and I could go a round together sometime.”

“Organizing shark teeth.”

“It’s a vacation, isn’t it?” Monk said. “Have some fun.”

With that, he headed over to the front desk, where Tetsuo was waiting on Lance.

“Going somewhere, Mr. Vaughan?” Monk said.

Lance, startled, turned around. “I’m changing rooms. I couldn’t stay in that bungalow after…” His voice got so choked up, he couldn’t finish. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m sure you understand, Mr. Monk.”

“When we asked you about your wife, you didn’t mention anything about her hearing voices.”

Lance’s expression hardened. “Where did you learn about that?”

Tetsuo lowered his head guiltily but didn’t escape Lance’s notice. Lance glared at him a moment, then shifted his gaze back to Monk.

“I didn’t see the point of saying anything,” Lance said. “Helen was a strong woman—that’s how I want her to be remembered, not as someone who was slipping into dementia.”

“How long had she been slipping?”

“She’s been forgetful and disoriented for a while now, but she didn’t start hearing voices until we got here. To be honest, it scared me. I had to get out of the house, get my own head straight, you know?”

“Is that why you went on the snorkeling trip without her?”

“Sure, it was one of the reasons,” Lance said. “But I also have to keep myself fit. I couldn’t spend two weeks here sitting by the pool. I’m a very physical guy; I need to work my body. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t keep up with me. Few people can. She accepted that. It was the only concession she made to her age.”

“You could have made concessions instead,” I said.

“And let my body go to hell?” Lance shook his head. “She wouldn’t have liked that any more than I would have. She wanted me to be in top shape.”

I was sure she did, in the same way a guy liked his young trophy wife to be thin, blond, and stacked. I doubted Helen would have married a guy thirty years younger than her if he had two chins and a beer gut. She could have found guys like that her own age.

Tetsuo handed Lance a card key. “Your room is ready, sir, courtesy of the Grand Kiahuna Poipu.”

“Thanks.” Lance took the key and looked at Monk. “Is there anything else?”

Monk shook his head. Lance picked up his suitcases and ambled off toward the elevators.

“You think he’s the guy?” I asked.

Monk looked in my general direction, but not at me, and shrugged. “Who else could it be?”

“But he has an alibi,” I said.

“The clever ones always do.”

We started to walk away ourselves when Tetsuo called out to Monk.

“Sir, you have a phone message.” Tetsuo handed Monk a slip of paper.

Monk glanced at it. “Lieutenant Kealoha has some information. He’d like me to give him a call or stop by the station.”

It would have been easier to call Kealoha, but I wanted to get out of the hotel and see some more of the island.

“Let’s go to him,” I said. “We need to get a rental car anyway.”

“There’s a Paradise Car Rental outlet located at the parking lot entrance to the shopping arcade,” Tetsuo offered politely.

I went back up to my room, quickly changed into shorts and a shirt, and met Monk in the lobby again five minutes later. We started at one end of the U-shaped arcade and headed toward the exit, and the car rental counter, at the other end.

We rounded the corner and saw Brian, Candace’s would-be husband, standing with his luggage at the rental counter, right in front of the exit to the parking lot. He was talking to the rental agent, a young white guy with sun-bleached blond hair wearing an aloha shirt covered with Paradise Car Rental’s orchid logo. When Brian saw us, his face turned red with fury.

“There they are,” he said, wagging a finger at us. “They probably know who did it.”

“Did what?” Monk asked as we approached.

“Trashed my car,” Brian said, tipping his head toward the parking lot. “Someone at the wedding did this. I’m certain of it.”

We stepped outside and looked at Brian’s Mustang convertible, parked in a row with several other identical Mustangs. But his was easy to spot. It was the one with the shattered windshield and a big rip down the center of the soft-top. Monk walked over and surveyed the car.

“This was an act of pure malice,” Brian said.

“What about what you did to Candace?” I said.

“See?” Brian said to the agent. “She’s practically admitting her involvement in this. But the joke is on her and her coldhearted, vindictive friends. I’m completely covered by insurance.”

“Was there any other damage to the car that you’d like