Unknown Victim by Kay Hadashi (classic books for 11 year olds .TXT) 📕

our money in Hawaii rather than send it to some bank on the mainland.” He took a bottle of red wine off a shelf. “Not too many vineyards or wineries in Hawaii, but there’s a good one on Maui. This is their red table wine.”

Gina tried reading the name on the label. “Kula…huh?”

“Kulakeokea. It’s the part of upcountry Maui where it’s made. The Rossini family has a little vineyard up there.”

“This is made by Italians?”

“Big family on Maui. I think they’ve been here for a long time.”

“Good enough for me,” she said, putting the bottle in her cart.

“Anything else I can help you with?” he asked. “There are a lot of good beers made in Hawaii these days.”

“Not much of a beer drinker.” Thinking of beer reminded Gina of her quick chat with Clara that afternoon. She got out her phone and found the picture of the bottle cap that Clara had balked at. “Do you sell this brand of beer?”

He looked quickly. “Tuyo? Never heard of it. Which is strange, because I’ve been vending beer, wine, and liquor for a long time. Where’s it from?”

“Somebody said the Philippines.”

“It’s not familiar to you?” he asked.

“Why should it be?”

“Because you’re Filipino.”

“I’m Italian,” she said.

“That’s why you were looking for the Italian wine?”

“Right. Any idea where I can find Tuyo beer?”

“At a Filipino store. We have a lot of other beers. None of them are from Cleveland, though.”

“Probably a good reason why.”

He handed her a six-pack of bottles. “Peroni is Italian, isn’t it?”

“Even my dad doesn’t splurge for it. Thanks for your help.” She put it back on the shelf. She started toward the checkout, but stopped. “Where would I find a Filipino store?”

“You really are new in town. They’re all over the place.”

“Maybe there’s a street name or part of town?” she asked.

“Try Kapalama.”

“Where’s that?”

“They sell maps at the checkout counter.”

Gina pushed her cart toward the front of the store. “They sell maps at the checkout counter,” she mumbled sarcastically.

When she got her bags of groceries, Gina stalled for a minute.

“Do you know where Kapalama is?” she asked the clerk.

“Kapalama what?”

“I don’t know. I was told to go to Kapalama.”

The clerk began counting on fingers. “There’s Kapalama Mall, Kapalama Hospital, Kapalama Clothing Store, Kapalama Market, Kapalama Park. All kinds of places called Kapalama in Kapalama.”

“Just the part of town called Kapalama.”

“You want to snap it up, lady?” someone in line said. He was two customers back and had a case of beer balanced on one shoulder.

“Sorry, just asking for directions.”

“The exit door is over there,” he said with a swing of his head. That jostled his beer, which he had to steady.

“You’ll get your beer soon enough,” Gina said. She looked back at the clerk, who seemed completely unconcerned if she had merchandise to scan or not. “Kapalama?”

The clerk vaguely pointed a polished fingernail. “Go evah on Beretania and turn right on Nuuanu. Go over the freeway. That’s Kapalama.”

“Thanks. What’s evah?”

“Come on lady, will ya?” the man griped again.

“That way.” The clerk pointed her finger again. “Not like you’re going to Heaven.”

“Thanks for the help.” That’s when Gina noticed the little girl standing right next to her, clutching a packet of dried fruit to her chest with both hands. Not much more than five or six years old, the girl gave Gina’s hip a nudge to get her moving.

Getting out of the way, Gina looked for an adult that might be with her, but there wasn’t anyone except the man with the case of beer. She watched as the clerk scanned the packet and handed it back to the girl as if she were just another customer.

“Dollar fifty-nine, sweetie.”

The girl reached into a pocket and brought out a handful of coins. She had to reach up and over the edge of the counter to drop them. The clerk counted them.

“Got any more in there? Still ten cents short.”

The girl silently shook her head once.

“No can let you have the sweets unless you have all the money for them.”

“Hey, is this place for customers wantin’ to buy stuff, or a kindygarden?” the man with the beer asked.

He went ignored when the clerk asked the girl, “Is your mommy around? Maybe she has the other dime?”

The girl simply looked back at her.

The man dropped his case of beer on the counter. “My beer’s getting warm standing here so long!”

Gina finally got involved in the little soap opera that was unfolding. Much ado over a dime. She crouched down to be eye level with the girl. “Is your mother waiting outside?”

The girl looked at her with large eyes, said nothing, and then looked back at the clerk. She was clutching the packet of dried fruit tighter to her chest than ever.

Gina stood. Digging through her wallet, she found a dime for the clerk. With that, the girl pushed her way past Gina.

“Salamat po,” the girl mewed quietly as she scurried away with over-sized rubber slippers on her feet.

Gina tried following the little girl, and by the time she got outside, she was gone.

“Where’d she go? I was right behind her.”

Gina looked around the parking lot for the kid. She was nowhere to be found.

“Could at least have said thanks.”

Chapter Thirteen

Thursday morning started a little too early for Gina. Her saving grace was the new coffeemaker that Florinda and Clara had bought her, and the potent grounds that came with it. She’d been in Hawaii for nearly a week, jetlag was long gone, and her appetite had returned. She wanted a big breakfast since the day’s planned work would be long and tiresome, and she wanted the fuel on board to get her through. Burnt toast just wasn’t going to be enough.

Getting two eggs, butter, milk, and cheese from the fridge, she was going to make that omelet she’d been wanting all week.

A bowl and a fork sat on the counter in front of her, ready to catch and whip egg yolks and whites. Picking up a brown egg, she raised it over