Free Primitive Secrets by Deborah Turrell Atkinson Page B

agent.
    Storm hiked briskly up Bishop Street back to the office. The sidewalks were crowded with people leaving work to avoid the Friday afternoon rush hour traffic. Storm felt herself jostled, but didn’t turn around. It wasn’t until she heard her name that she glanced behind.
    Hamlin’s face was flushed. “I’ve been trying to catch you for three blocks.”
    â€œYou were having a late lunch, too?”
    â€œYeah, I got held up in a meeting, then a long-distance phone call, and then Cyril dropped by to tell me about the reading of the will.”
    Storm glanced at Hamlin, who now matched her steps, and wondered if Cunningham had told him about their private meeting. Hamlin didn’t appear to be hiding anything, but he probably practiced nonchalance in front of the mirror.
    â€œFrom what I heard, Hamasaki’s kids were pretty upset.” he said.
    â€œI was surprised by that, too. David took it hard.”
    â€œDavid strikes me as the type who might not share with his little sister.”
    â€œNo kidding. Not the adopted one, anyway.”
    Hamlin looked over at her. “Don’t take it hard. I doubt if he talks much outside his circle of friends. Cyril told me Mrs. Hamasaki seemed taken back by his behavior, too.”
    Storm nodded. If Cyril had overheard the phone call from Bitsy Hamasaki to her husband, he might have interpreted her reaction as disappointment rather than surprise. Perhaps Lorraine was the only one in front of whom Hamasaki could argue with his wife. Somehow, that detail was reassuring to Storm.
    Hamlin held the front doors for her. “Was Martin disappointed, too?” he asked.
    â€œI’m not sure.” Storm had wondered about the expression on Martin’s face. She pushed the button for the elevator, still thinking. “He wasn’t happy, but it may have been because of David’s reaction.”
    â€œI could understand that.” The elevator glided to a stop and they got off. Hamlin pushed open the door to the office.
    Storm preceded him, looking over her shoulder. “Uh, Hamlin, I was thinking of taking off this weekend. Could we have our drink next—”
    Meredith Wo rushed toward them. “Excuse me, Storm. Ian, you didn’t have your cell phone on. I’ve been looking all over for you.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction of his office.
    Storm stood in the waiting room, with the eyes of several clients, one of them a familiar suit that she couldn’t place, and two secretaries on her. “She’s been a little antsy for the last hour,” one of the secretaries said.
    Storm raised an eyebrow. “I see.” She went to her office and closed the door. It had been a long week.

Chapter 11
    Storm looked at the files stacked on her desk, then glanced at her watch. It was three-thirty; with the lines at the airport these days, she didn’t have much time to straighten up and think about what work she needed to take with her.
    She picked up the phone and dialed Aunt Maile. Her aunt was thrilled to hear her voice.
    â€œWe’ll have dinner ready, my dear.”
    â€œI won’t be there until late, Aunt Maile. The plane leaves here at six.”
    â€œA cup of tea, then. Drive carefully.”
    Storm punched in Leila’s number. When she got the answering machine, she realized that her friend was picking up Robbie and doing afternoon errands. “Hi, Leila. Would you guys keep Fang over the weekend for me? I’m going to Pa’auilo to see Auntie Maile. I’ll call you later.”
    Storm leaned back in her chair and tried to think. The events of the week were like a pile-up on the freeway, with grief and frustration jumbling any sense she might be able to make of all that had occurred. She still rankled from Rick’s betrayal, so Wo’s appropriation of Hamlin was especially irritating.
    Frowning, Storm shuffled some papers piled next to her laptop. Her