Hen Party by Josi Avari

Author:Josi Avari [Avari, Josi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quill Canyon Press
Published: 2019-03-06T22:00:00+00:00

SAFFRON FOUND THE MARIPOSA Condos in Honolulu on her computer when she got home. The picture showed a blocky, unremarkable building emblazoned with the butterfly and flower image. It was one of many such structures, and nothing on the website indicated who might have given the key to Lyza. It seemed likely that Davis had bought a condo for Lyza to live in while he was onboard the ship.

Early the next morning, she called the Mariposa building and asked for Davis Howard’s apartment.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said, “That name is not registered with any of our condos here.”

“How about Lyza Carelli? Or Lyza Howard?”

There came the sounds of typing. “Nooo,” said the woman, “I’m sorry. No one by those names.”

Saffron thanked her and hung up.

Maybe this was just another dead end. She wasn’t sure what she had hoped to find, anyway. Just some clue to the tragedy that took Davis’ life. She didn’t like the way Byron had spoken to his almost-son-in-law, and she didn’t like that he was missing when Davis fell.

Outside, a raucous dispute erupted on the lanai. Saffron stood to look out her window. There she saw Curry standing between Tikka and the edge of the lanai. Both were making loud, alarmed sounds. Saffron left the office, walked down the hall and through the kitchen, and came out onto the lanai just in time to see a long, furry body advancing across the boards toward the birds. Before she could even speak, Curry attacked, flapping up and raking the air with his claws. But the creature was fast. It darted sideways past the rooster and angled for Tikka.

Saffron shouted, running toward the animal. It was big—longer than her arm—and gray-brown, with a tapered snout and a long, bushy tail that it held perfectly parallel to the ground. When it saw her coming it froze, then retreated, casting one last glance over its shoulder as it leaped from the lanai and cut a trail through the tall grass into the bushes. Its tail floated straight out behind it as if it were a separate entity.

Saffron stood between it and the still-squawking chickens and dialed Mano’s number.

“Aloha,” came his cheery voice through the phone.

“Mano! Something tried to attack Curry and Tikka on the lanai.”

“Rats again?” he asked. When she’d first come, rats had plagued the egg house, but they’d finally gotten rid of those.

“No, something bigger. It’s like a squirrel, with a long bushy tail—only the tail isn’t as bushy, and the face is more pointy, and it’s big!”

“Ahhhh,” Mano said. “Mongoose.”

“Mongoose?” Saffron repeated. “What do you mean, mongoose?”

“It’s a sad story,” Mano said, and Saffron could picture his closed eyes and the slight shake of his head that always accompanied a sad story. “A century and a half ago, plantation owners were losing their crops to all the rats. So, they had mongooses,” Mano hesitated, “mongeese? Mongeeses? How do you say it?”

Saffron had no idea what the correct plural form was, “I don’t know. I’ve never had to talk about them before.

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