Free I'm Kona Love You Forever (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series Book 6) by JoAnn Bassett Page B

check out first?”
    The beaches in the area of Kailua-Kona turned out to be rocky and shallow. We saw nothing to compare to Maui’s Ka’anapali or Makena, just small sandy coves and long stretches of black surf-pounded lava.
    “I ’ll probably have to go up north to surf,” said Hatch. “The conditions don’t look so good down here.”
    “Th is is where they start the big ‘Ironman’ triathlon,” I said. “They start the swim right here in Kona Bay. So, maybe you should just take a swim and then relax at a bar or something. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” We shared a quick kiss and as I pulled the car back onto the road I looked in the rearview mirror. Hatch was heading for the water looking as happy as I’d seem him in months.
    The first place I stopped was a small local grocery store. The Gadda da Vida is the pulse-point of Pa’ia. Nearly everyone comes through there at some point in the day, and gossip was a commodity almost as valuable as cash.
    The store I picked in Kailua-Kona was called the “Kona Korner Kash & Karry.” It took me a moment to figure out the name because the sign had one big “K” with each of the other words stacked on top sharing the “K.” Quaint, but definitely hard to read. But aside from the confusing sign, the place could’ve been a clone of the Gadda. It was two stories high, with clapboard siding and a small paned window in the front door. Both stores were painted the same color: a shade of unappetizing yellow-green. I had no idea what the color was called. I remembered how thrilled Farrah had been when she’d found five gallons marked half-price on the hardware store discount table. Maybe the name was “Paint-Mixer’s Error,” or perhaps just, “Oops.” It seemed to be a popular hue.
    I went through the door and , instead of a tinkly bell like Farrah’s, a buzzer went off to alert the proprietor to my presence.  Farrah’s bell was annoying, but it was at least cheery. The buzzer had a grumpy “what do you want?” sound.
    “Can I help you?” said a tiny dark-skinned woman with thinning dark hair. She hustled over to check me out and I smiled. Farrah maintained it was important to immediately greet any customers who looked suspicious. She claimed it cut down on shoplifting if she put shifty people on notice she had them in her sights.
    “ Mahalo , I’m here to pick up some beer and snacks,” I said. I suppose I should’ve said “buy” instead of “pick up” but I was pretty sure her beady-eyed glare wouldn’t fail to notice if I tried to sneak out a six-pack under my shirt.
    The woman pointed to the refrigerator case in the back. I pulled out a six-pack of Longboard Lager. In the chips and candy aisle I loaded up on kettle chips, li hing mui -flavored peanuts and dried wasabi peas.
    “Will that be all?” the woman said as I unloaded it all on the counter.
    I took out my wallet and pulled out some cash. In the most casual tone I could muster I said, “Do you know if a woman named ‘Lokelani Kaula’ still lives here in Kailua-Kona? I’m from Maui and a friend of mine asked me to look her up.”
    “ You mean Loke?” The woman eyed me as if I’d tried to slip her a counterfeit twenty.
    “Yeah, that’s right, Loke. She’d be, oh, about my age, I guess. Mid-thirties.”
    “Loke isn’t a Kaula no more,” said the woman. “She marry that guy, Ray Vick. You know Ray?”
    Since I’d already explained I was from Maui, I wondered why she’d think I’d know Loke’s husband but I figured it wasn’t necessary to point it out. After all, I was asking for her help.
    She went on. “You may a’ heard about him. He owns the big coffee farm down the road. The place called ‘Naturally Kona.’ Ray make a lotta money from that coffee…a lotta money.” She shook her head as if the guy had unlocked the secret of spinning coffee beans into gold. But then, with organic Kona coffee selling at upwards of forty to fifty bucks a pound, it was darn