Danny helped load our suitcases. Then, refusing to divulge any clue concerning our hotel, he insisted I follow his Honda.
In the past, when consulting to the CIL, I was always billeted in a moderately priced hotel on Waikiki Beach. That meant traveling roughly southeast into town.
Danny’s route surprised me. He looped north on the H-1, then cut east on the H-3 toward Kaneohe.
We’d barely cleared the airport when Katy slumped against the window and fell asleep. My little navigator. It would be up to me to keep Danny in sight. Challenging, since the guy had a foot twice the atomic weight of lead.
Twenty minutes out, Danny merged onto Highway 630, Mokapu Boulevard, then turned south on Kalaheo. Eventually we passed Kailua Beach Park.
As my internal GPS engaged, I felt a buzz of excitement. Danny knew that my favorite stretch of Oahu sand was Lanikai Beach. Lanikai lies just south of Kailua. Was that where Danny was going? Was that his surprise?
Once over the bridge at Kailua, it was like driving in Charlotte. At every little jog, the street name changed. Lihiwai. Kawailoa. Alala. Mokulua.
Hawaiian. You gotta love it.
Finally, Danny pulled into an opening barely visible between towering hedges. I followed.
The driveway led through an expanse of lawn to a two-story stucco home with lanais bordering three sides. Beyond the house I could see more grass, white sand, and the glittering turquoise of Kailua Bay.
Danny pulled to a stop, got out, and walked toward my car. I lowered my window.
“Home sweet home.” He swept a theatrical arm.
“We’re staying here?” I admit. It was almost a squeal.
A grin split Danny’s face from ear to ear.
Katy sat up and squinted through the windshield.
“How did you pull this off?” I asked.
“Danny has his ways.” Tapping one temple.
I curled my fingers in a “give me more” gesture.
“The place belongs to a retired colonel. He’s gone a month, visiting his kids on the mainland, and feels more secure with someone in residence.”
Katy climbed from the car and walked toward the house.
“Shall we see if accommodations are up to madam’s high standards?”
Ignoring the faux-British accent, I got out and followed Danny to the front door.
Things were definitely up to standard. A standard about which, given my profession, I had only heard rumors.
The decor was Hawaiian plantation meets modern tech. Arched windows and doorways. Carved woodwork. Luxurious greenery. Stone and Brazilian cherry floors.
The dining and living areas had vaulted wood ceilings and sliding glass doors leading to lanais overlooking a pool. Beyond the pool, thirty yards of lawn swept down to a row of coconut palms and the beach.
The kitchen had every appliance patented in the new millennium and enough stainless steel to outfit an OR. A bedroom and bath, a powder room, a small gym, and an office rounded out the first floor.
Each of the three upstairs suites had a bath with walk-in shower, Jacuzzi, and an acre of marble. King beds. Flat-screen TVs. Ceiling fans. Heart-stopping floor-to-ceiling ocean views.
As Danny gave the tour, Katy trailed mutely behind.
“Which room did you like?” I queried when we’d finished.
“The green one’s OK.”
“It’s yours,” I said.
“Now what?” I asked when Katy had gone to the car for her luggage.
Danny looked at his watch.
“It’s Friday, now almost five. The lab will be emptier than a politician’s heart.”
I couldn’t help smiling at Danny’s metaphor.
“I’ve unearthed some info on Lowery. It’s not much. Forty-plus years is a long time. How about I brief you, then you and Katy relax over the weekend? Monday morning, we’ll meet at the CIL and start the analysis.”
While I was disappointed at the two-day delay, Danny was right. It was almost 10 p.m. East Coast time and I’d been up since 5 a.m. I’d slept little on the plane and was probably beyond my capacity for critical thought. More important, I didn’t want to leave Katy alone right away.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said.
Danny offered to carry my things from the car. I told him I could handle my own suitcase and laptop. He
