We reach the inn a few minutes later. Olle seems to have forgotten that he doesn’t like me, or maybe my heroic efforts at the water pump have atoned for my sins. He stops the truck and frowns at me.

“I still want you on the next boat to Oahu,” he says. “You upset Irene.”

“If I’m on the next boat to Oahu, the next boat back will be carrying several members of the press. It’s your choice.”

He bangs a hand on the steering wheel. “Why? Why did you have to find us?”

“Because I want to know, that’s all. I want to know everything. I can’t rest until I do.” I sling my pocketbook over my shoulder. “And I think your Irene wants to know too.”

“Irene knows everything she needs to know.”

“Are you sure of that?” I open the door, slide out, and slam it shut again. The window’s open. I lean my head inside. “Good-bye, Olle. Tell your wife she knows where to find me.”

The desk clerk can’t suppress a smirk when I walk inside. “Miss Everett! Here you are at last. Have you enjoyed your stay with us?”

“Positively delightful, thanks.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Although, now that you mention it, my upstairs neighbors were making a terrible racket last night. You know how it is. I had to sleep elsewhere, or I wouldn’t have caught a wink. Perhaps you might consider taking it off my bill?”

The smirk fades. The fellow starts to stammer.

“In the meantime, I’d like my room key, please.”

He turns and takes the key from the hook and a small envelope from the pigeonhole beneath. “You have a message too,” he says grudgingly.

Upstairs, my room is neatly made—no surprise there—and really quite attractive, for a rustic beachside sort of hostelry. It’s decorated in blue and white and if you strain your neck out the window at just the right angle, you can glimpse a sliver of ocean. You’ll have to take my word for that, however. I’m frankly too exhausted to do anything except collapse on the bed and pull the envelope from the pocket of my slacks. Inside, there’s a folded note and a five dollar bill. I spread the note between my two hands and hold it up against the ceiling.

Dear Janey,

I enclose your five bucks. The drinks were on the house.

Yours always,

Leo

PS you left something behind

The next thing I know, I’m thrown awake in a panicked sweat. My heart’s chattering, my lungs panting. In my ears, over and over, plays the scream of a doomed engine followed by the metallic smash that jolts every pore. In my fist, Leo’s note is crumpled to a tight, damp ball.