Lana'i of the Tiger (The Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) by JoAnn Bassett Page B

I’ve got to make quite a few cancellations.”
    He took the hint and slinked out
to his Jeep and took off. I sat down at the reception desk and looked over my
list of the folks I’d just finished hiring and now had to fire.
    ***
    One of the hardest things about
being a persona non grata in the WITSEC program was I had no one to
commiserate with. Back home, I had my b/f/f Farrah Milton, my gay roommate
Steve, my on-again off-again boyfriend Hatch, and my kung fu instructor,
Sifu Doug—just to name a few. On Lana’i I had nobody.
    Before I started making
cancellation calls I needed to calm down. I sat at the reservation desk and
flipped through the four-page visitor’s guide Ewa had compiled for guests.
She’d listed local restaurants, the historical museum, a smattering of gift
shops, and ‘natural wonders.’ I read about the Munro Trail, a dirt road that
goes to the top of the island to a place called Lana’ihale—the ‘house of Lana’i’.
I needed to get out. I craved fresh air and exercise. I promised myself I’d go
up there. But first, I needed to get on the phone.
    It took me less than an hour to
call everyone. In most cases I was able to give them the bad news directly, but
a couple of times I had to leave a message. I hung up the phone and put the “Be
back by” sign—the one with the clock where you move the hands to the time
you’ll return—on the front door. I gave myself a couple of hours. If Tyler
returned, he had a pass key to the front door. If anyone else showed up, tough.
I wasn’t in a ‘guest relations’ mood anyway. I laced up my sneakers and headed
out.
    Ewa’s tourist information said
the Munro Trail climbs to an elevation of thirty-three hundred feet, more than
sixteen hundred feet above Lana’i City, in just under thirteen miles. That’s
pretty steep, especially on foot. I wasn’t planning on tackling the whole
thing, however. At about the two and a half mile mark there’s a scenic
overlook, with a view down into Maunalei Gulch, one of the few naturally green
places on Lana’i. It also offers sweeping views across the channel to Maui. Just
the thought of being able to gaze on Maui again got my blood pumping.
    The trail started near the Lodge
at Koele and wound through a forest of Cook Island pine trees. When I’d visited
the tiny Lana’i Historical Museum during my first week, the docent there told
me the trail was named for George Munro, a New Zealand naturalist who’d arrived
on Lana’i in 1890. At that time, the island was dry and barren, with only a
handful of Norfolk pines scattered here and there.
    Munro noticed that the tree
branches dripped water as the trees extracted moisture from the humid air. He
came up with the idea to plant a forest of Norfolk pines at the higher
elevations as a kind of irrigation system. The trees would extract the water,
raising the water table and making agricultural crops possible. The trees would
also provide shade which would make Lana’i a more hospitable place for people
to live.
    Munro arranged for ships coming
up from the South Pacific to bring Norfolk pines to the island. But when the
ships arrived they’d brought Cook Island pines instead of the Norfolk pines.
Turns out, it wasn’t a big deal. Both types had similar water-extracting capabilities.
    I caught the shuttle van to go
to the Lodge. It was always an adventure riding the shuttle. Since rental cars
are scarce, and absurdly expensive, many visitors ride the shuttle to get from
one hotel to the other. Locals like me, who don’t have a car, sometimes use the
shuttle as well.  
    On this particular ride I had a
two-person seat to myself but across the aisle was a visitor on a cell phone,
bellowing at his business associate on the mainland.
    It’s amazing what you can learn
about someone in a six-minute ride. After a minute it was clear the guy on the
phone was a sports agent and he was negotiating a deal for a hockey player. I’d
never been to a hockey game—it’s not