  Hanale Mahenili had driven only a short distance from the Royal Poinciana when Monica, in the rear seat of the convertible, let out a howl. “Monica! Whatever in the world!” her mother said. “My lei! My lei! I left it on the beach!” Monica wailed. “Knew you would,” her brother Ted said, in his I-told-you-so voice. Mr. Mahenili turned to Tom Brewster and smiled. “That’s easily taken care of. We can get them anywhere along here.” He pulled the car over to the curb in front of a charming hotel constructed of red and white coral. Just to the left of the entrance to the hotel’s palm-studded grounds, sat an old woman surrounded by flowers of every color and species. The woman was seated in a high-backed chair, made of coconut fronds, with her feet in a tub filled with pink, red, and yellow buds. A flame-red hibiscus was stabbed in her topknot. She was a plump Hawaiian woman, dressed in a flowered muumuu the island adaptation of the mother-hubbard dress introduced many years ago by New England missionaries. The old woman’s brown, deeply lined face cracked into a smile as the Brewsters got out of the car. Mr. Mahenili spoke to her in the musical words of the native Hawaiian. The old woman’s deft hands grasped a long, slender lei needle, and her hands seemed to fly as she swiftly threaded at least a hundred flowers into a beautiful garland. “This lei,” Mr. Mahenili explained, “is being made of the plumeria. You see,” he picked up one of the flowers, “it has five petals. Smell it.” Mrs. Brewster took the flower. “My, that’s lovely! It seems to me I’ve been smelling this lovely scent ever since we’ve been here.” “You have. This blossom is highly perfumed. It makes our island the sweetest smelling place in the world.” The old woman had finished. She arose and draped the newly made lei around Monica’s neck. “For the nani keiki,” she said. “That means for the ‘beautiful child.’” Monica blushed, but her smile showed her pleasure. “Thank you,” she said, dipping her head. Mr. Mahenili handed the woman some money. “Mahalo, mahalo,” she said. “And now she’s saying, ‘Thank you,’ to us,” Hank Mahenili explained. Half an hour later, following a thrilling ride up the twisting road running over the pali, the cliffs, of the Koolau Mountain range, they dropped swiftly down to sea level again on the north side of the island. A short run along broad, curving beaches, and they arrived at the Mahenilis’ beach-front home on Waimanalo Bay. The warmth and gracious hospitality of the Mahenili family made the Brewsters feel at home immediately. The Mahenilis’ son, Likake, fifteen, and Biff were old friends within an hour of their meeting. Little Wikolia Mahenili was just Monica and Ted’s age, but quite a bit smaller. She considered the twins her personal property and showed them around with great pride. There was only one cloud to mar the Brewsters’ sky-high happiness. Dr. Johann Weber was still missing. Late in the second afternoon of the Brewsters’ stay in Honolulu, Biff and Likake were swimming when Biff saw his father come down to the beach and hail him. “Let’s go, Li!” Biff called, and the boys rode a breaker back to the shore. “Hi, Dad. You want me?” Water dripped off Biff’s tanned body. Likake, his round brown face with its usual eager expression, stood beside him. “I want you to get dressed, now, son. I’d like you to come to the dinner and evening session of our meeting,” Mr. Brewster said. “You bet, Dad. Wouldn’t miss it for anything. This is the night you speak, isn’t it?” “Yes.” Tom Brewster smiled. “But that isn’t the main reason for my wanting you there. I’ll tell you about it later.” “Okay, Dad. May Likake come along?” “Surely. Mr. and Mrs. Mahenili are coming. The little ones will stay at home.” Likake had gone on ahead. “What’s it all about, Dad? Something to do with Dr. Weber?” Biff asked. “Not exactly, Biff. But I think there’s going to be a man at the dinner tonight I want you to get a look at. There could be a connection between him and Dr. Weber’s disappearance.” “Is it that man, Perez Something-or-other—the one you mentioned when you got that phone call at home?” “He’s the man, Biff.” Biff’s brows were knitted in thought. “Dad, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do,” Biff interrupted. “Is it all right if I do a little snooping after you speak? You’ll be at the reception and dance. I’ve got an idea. And Likake said he’d help me.” “Snooping, son? When trained detectives are on the job? This is a vacation, and I want you to enjoy it. But there’s no reason why you and Likake can’t nose about a bit. Don’t do anything foolish, though.” The dinner was over. Biff had tried not to stare too hard nor too long at the husky, shifty-eyed man at the next table. Perez Soto! Biff sensed the sheer physical power of the man, and he shuddered involuntarily. This was no opponent to treat lightly. He couldn’t help thinking: Biff Brewster, take warning! The chairman rapped for order. Guests at the head table were introduced, then the chairman turned to Thomas Brewster. “We are very happy tonight,” the chairman said, “to have so distinguished a speaker with us. You all know him. You all know of the many contributions he has made in our field. I refer, of course, to the chief field engineer of the Ajax Mining Company, Mr. Thomas Brewster.” Mrs. Brewster smiled proudly at her husband. Tom Brewster arose. His talk was short, direct, and crisply delivered. He received an ovation when he concluded. Biff looked at Likake and winked. The two boys slipped away from the table unnoticed. Outside the hotel, Biff asked, “Which way?” “The Poinciana’s just a short walk from here. We’ll go in the back way—through the garden.” “You’re sure it’s all right? This bellboy is a good friend of yours?” Biff inquired. “Sure. I know Hale real well. His brother, Kioni, and I go to Kamehameha School. That’s a school only for boys and girls of Hawaiian ancestry. We’re almost like blood brothers.” The night was moonlit. Palm leaves rustled under a gentle breeze. The steady murmur of the surf was clear in the night air. Biff and Likake reached the garden of the Royal Poinciana. “Hale told me he would fix it so the deck door of Dr. Weber’s room would be open. Come on,” Li said. The boys walked boldly through the hotel’s garden. Biff knew better than to try to hide their presence. To do so would attract attention, and that was just what he didn’t want to do. They mounted the stairs to the hotel’s second floor, and walked along the deck until they reached Dr. Weber’s room. Hale had done his job. The door was open. Biff entered the room. Likake, his heart pounding, was right on his heels. The room was faintly lighted by the moonlight from outside. Biff paused in the middle of the room to allow his eyes to become accustomed to the dim light. Then he started his search. Ever since the call to Indianapolis, Biff had wondered about the letter mentioned during the conversation. His father had said, “Forget it,” but Biff hadn’t been able to. The letter had to mean something. Where would a man like Dr. Weber hide a letter? Biff asked himself. He felt certain that Dr. Weber had been kidnaped, but he didn’t think the abductors had the letter. If they did, then why were they holding the doctor? “Course, I could be all wrong,” Biff told himself. But he didn’t think he was. “Likake. Li. Come here,” Biff whispered and was startled to hear Li’s voice right back of him. “I am here. Right with you.” Li sounded scared, Biff thought. “Okay. You take the bathroom. It’s a letter we’re looking for. I’ll take the bedroom, then we’ll both search this room.” The boys made a swift, but thorough search. Nothing in the bathroom. Nothing in the bedroom. “Now where do we look?” Li asked. “You take that side of the room. I’ll start by the hall door.” Biff’s search started at the telephone table. Nothing in the drawers. But there wouldn’t be, Biff told himself. Too obvious a place. He started to leave the table, and, glancing down, saw that the table must have been left in the same condition it had been in on the day of the call. Crumbs of tobacco were scattered on the tabletop. Several burned matches were in an ash-tray. The doctor’s tobacco pouch lay at the base of the lamp. Biff picked it up idly, looking about the room for the next spot to search. Standing there, swinging the pouch by its draw-string, he thought he heard paper crackle. He stood motionless, halting the swing of the pouch. He strained his ears. Nothing. He tossed the pouch back on the table. Again he heard the slight sound of paper crinkling. Biff snatched the pouch up again. He opened the pouch. His hand darted in it and dug deeply in the tobacco. Paper! His fingers weren’t wrong. He withdrew the paper and held it close to his eyes. It was a letter, all right. “Biff! Biff! Look out!” Li shouted. Biff turned just in time to see a figure leap at him. |
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