Free Where There's a Will by Aaron Elkins Page B

about sex.”
    “This wasn’t sex, it was rape.”
    “Inge,” Axel said in the midst of general laughter, “he isn’t capable of rape. He’s been castrated.”
    “Well, he sure didn’t seem to know it. Maybe you should tell them when you castrate them.”
    “Do you suppose we might change the subject?” Dagmar interjected with a shake of her head. “I’m trying to eat my dinner. Felix, when exactly can we expect to see your land turned into Happy Harbor Estates?”
    “Now, Auntie, you know they haven’t decided on what the name’s going to be,” Felix said patiently. “And I promise you, it’ll be very nice when it’s finished. They’re preserving the landscape as much as possible. They have a great deal of respect for the land.”
    “Tell us another one,” Dagmar said.
    “It’s not a joke, you’ll see. And as to when, they’re hoping to start in the fall, but the Environmental Quality Control Board is still haggling over the impact statement.”
    “Hey,” Keoni said. “How many Haoles does it take to screw in a light bulb?”
    “I have no idea,” Felix said with an air of stolid resignation. “How many Haoles does it take to screw in a light bulb?”
    “Six. One to call the electrician, and five to write the environmental impact report.”
    John laughed, Gideon smiled, and the Torkelssons glowered.
    “You like that?” Keoni said. “Okay, how does a Haole show his racial tolerance?”
    Before anyone could reply, Malani came in, taking the seat that had been kept for her next to Axel, across from Gideon and John. “All right, it’s tentatively arranged. They gave me a price, and if I get back to them within the hour, they can do it tomorrow.”
    “Tomorrow!” Felix exclaimed. “I see what you mean about rapid response.”
    “Yes, well, you see, since the plane is only in a few feet of water, and since all we want are the remains, and not the plane itself, they say it won’t take a great deal of work or much in the way of equipment. And if they leave first thing in the morning, they ought to finish up and be back by the end of the day.”
    “Wait a minute, now,” said Axel. “How in the heck are they going to land a Cessna 310 on Maravovo, let alone take off again? Is there a nice, big, two-thousand-foot landing strip on this deserted atoll? That’s what it would take. Fifteen hundred feet at the absolute minimum.” As the only person with flying experience in the room, Axel’s word carried weight. He had learned to fly fifteen years or so ago, briefly serving as the ranch pilot before discovering that, as much as he enjoyed the navigational calculations, he didn’t much like flying itself. “I think maybe Felix is right, sweetheart; we’d better find an outfit in Honolulu.”
    But this Cessna, Malani triumphantly explained, didn’t require any landing strip at all. It had been converted to a float plane. It could land in the lagoon.
    “Really? I didn’t know there was anybody on the Big Island who could do that kind of work.”
    “They did it themselves,” Malani explained. “They also serve as their own pilots, which saves considerably on the cost.”
    “Oh, brudda,” Keoni said, “I’m just glad nobody’s asking me to fly in it.”
    Undeterred, Malani went on, meticulously referring to the neat, columnar notes-she wrote in tiny uppercase letters-that she had made on a note pad. “The Cessna’s cruising speed is about two hundred miles an hour, so to be on the safe side they’re allowing a total of five hours for the eight-hundred-mile round trip, plus an hour for landings and takeoffs, and five hours for the work itself. Eleven hours altogether.”
    At this point, the grilled steaks, brought in by a perspiring, aproned cook, drew everyone’s attention. There were no inquiries as to rare, medium, or well-done; the perfectly charred, two-inch-thick tenderloins were simply plopped onto the plates (all except Hedwig’s) with a simple accompaniment of spinach and