Bet Your Bones by Jeanne Matthews Page A

police? How specific did a threat have to be to involve the police? Maybe she was overreacting. She took a deep breath. Xander had scolded Claude Ann, albeit mildly, for engaging with the protesters last night and he’d told the hotel receptionist he didn’t want any publicity. The prudent thing would be to convey Eleanor’s diatribe to Xander and let him handle the situation as he deemed necessary. As for conveying Eleanor’s marital advice to Claude Ann, Dinah would sooner be shot.
    The receptionist got rid of the complainer at last. “Thanks for waiting, Ms. Pelerin.”
    Dinah said, “Please ring Xander Garst’s room and ask him to come to the lobby right away. It’s urgent.”
    “I’m so sorry. Mr. Garst and Ms. Kemper left in a taxi a half-hour ago.”
    “Do you have his cell phone number?”
    “No, I don’t. Is there something wrong?”
    “If he calls the hotel, would you please give him my number and ask him to call ASAP?”
    “Certainly.” She jotted down the number Dinah gave her.
    Dinah had another idea. “Is there a computer I can use?”
    “Of course.” She led her to a room behind the reception area. “Just use your room number to log on.”
    Dinah thanked her and got to work. If Google didn’t come through for her, she’d buy a Hawaiian dictionary. Aumakua, wahi pana, akahele. The ka-hooey word that young protester had flung at her had already slipped her mind. Bumbye didn’t sound Hawaiian. She didn’t think the Hawaiian alphabet had a letter b. It didn’t have an s either and the one word Eleanor had charged her with remembering was Pash.
    The online Hawaiian dictionary defined aumakua as Eleanor had—a family or personal god. Aumakua could assume various shapes—a shark or an owl or a rat. Even a rock. Apparently, the aumakua appeared to mortals in dreams to offer guidance or reproach. Akahele meant take care or watch your step, which sounded slightly less threatening than “beware.” And wahi pana referred to a sacred place. Bumbye, she learned to her chagrin, was pidgin for by and by. Xander would know what he had to answer for by and by. The only entries brought up by “Pash” were for an indie band whose best known song was “Kill the Rich Boys,” the Petroleum Accountants Society of Houston, and Australian slang for tongue kissing.
    “Beg pardon. Oh, hello! Are you Dinah?”
    She turned and saw a silver-haired man of about sixty with a florid complexion, kinetic blue eyes, and a somewhat manic demeanor. He wore a Hawaiian shirt with coral colored flamingos. The tanned legs poking out below his golfing shorts bowed like the staves of a barrel.
    “Yes, I’m Dinah.”
    “Claude Ann’s friend. Excellent, excellent, excellent. Avery Wilhite, at your service. Xander’s business partner.” He handed her a card. “Heard at the desk you were asking for him. Some kind of trouble. Bride hasn’t got cold feet, has she?”
    “Not to my knowledge.” He was so blithery she had to smile. “It’s nothing to do with the wedding.”
    “Didn’t think so. Just joking. The protesters haven’t made any more fuss, have they? Pesky lot. Saw a clip of them on TV this morning. Feel bad for Xan and Claude Ann. Her, especially. Dirty pool to hassle a bride at a time like this.”
    She read the card. SAX Associates. “Are you Xander’s partner in the Uwahi project?”
    “Partner and primary investor. I’m the A in SAX.”
    Dinah was eager to unload her worries about Eleanor onto someone else and she could see no reason why Xander would object to her relaying Eleanor’s message to his partner and primary investor. She said, “Actually, one of the protesters accosted me while I was having breakfast on the terrace.”
    “Botheration. Well, no sense burdening Xander. Enough on his plate, poor boy. Let’s go to the hotel conference room and you can give me the lowdown. Maybe I can get them off his back.”
    He shepherded her through the lobby and down a short corridor she hadn’t