Mr. Monk Goes to Hawaii (4 page)

As we flew over Kauai on our approach to Lihue Airport, I was surprised by how rural the island seemed compared to Oahu. I’d expected it to be much more developed, with a Waikiki-like shoreline crammed with hotel towers. But it wasn’t. The beaches looked virtually pristine, and the hotels were low-lying and spaced well apart, all against a backdrop of lush green mountains covered with rain forests and streaked with waterfalls.

The first thing that struck me as Monk and I walked through the tiny airport were all the smiling faces. Outside of Disneyland, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people smiling.

But nobody was paying them to pretend it was the happiest place on earth. These were definitely real smiles—the smiles of people who’d experienced, or were about to experience, paradise. I know, because I had one of those smiles, and so did Monk. In fact, he had the biggest smile I’d ever seen before on his face. For a moment I was almost glad he’d come along. That moment passed quickly when I remembered that eventually his medication would wear off.

The air was warm and moist, and a nice breeze blew through the wide-open baggage-claim area. I was stunned to see Monk pulling only two suitcases, the same number that I’d brought, off the baggage carousel.

Once, when his apartment building was tented for termites, he had to stay at my house for a few days. He brought two suitcases with him that time, too. But he also hired movers to bring over his furniture and his refrigerator. For a trip to Mexico, I heard he’d brought his own food and water for a week.

“Didn’t you pack a little light?” I said.

“I’m visiting Hawaii,” Monk said. “I’m not moving here.”

All I could figure was that he must have taken one of his magic pills last night so he’d have the nerve to make the plane reservations and the peace of mind to pack light; otherwise he never would have made the flight.

We took our suitcases to the curb, and right away I saw Candace and her fiancé waiting for us, standing in front of a Mustang convertible.

Candace was wearing a halter top, a short floral wrap tied around her waist, and a big sun hat. She looked like she’d just run out of the ocean to meet us. Like everybody else we’d seen, she was flashing a radiant smile. As long as I’d known her, she had been a little chubby and painfully self-conscious about her weight. She wasn’t any thinner, so seeing her casually revealing so much skin made me realize just how happy and self-confident she’d become. The love of a good man can do that to a woman. I know that from personal experience.

Brian Galloway, her twentysomething fiancé, was wearing a loose-fitting Red Dirt tank top over a pair of cargo shorts. There was a ragged straw hat on his head and a pair of Ray-Bans that kept sliding down his big, sunburned nose. That was the first feature they’d fix if he ever went on
Extreme Makeover.
He had a couple days’ growth of stubble on his face, probably less out of laziness than premeditation. It looked good on him, and Candace probably told him so. He had an average physique that seemed to be only a couple beers and a bag of Cheetos away from flabbing out, which I guess made him a perfect match for my best friend.

Candace shrieked and we ran toward each other like little girls and embraced. Although we talked every week, and e-mailed each other almost every day, it had been at least a year since I’d seen her face-to-face. She worked in advertising down in L.A. and didn’t get up to S.F. very often.

She asked about the flight and Julie and then, of course, about the man standing right behind me.

“I thought you were coming alone,” she whispered, looking over my shoulder at Monk.

“So did I,” I whispered back.

“Did you meet him on the plane?”

“You could say that,” I said, then spoke up. “This is my boss, Adrian Monk.”

“Your boss?” Brian said, making little quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “Does he always come with you on vacations?”

“It’s a working vacation,” I said. At least it was now.

“I bet,” Brian said with a wink, and shook Monk’s hand. “Brian Galloway.”

Monk then turned and offered his hand to Candace.

They also shook hands. It was astonishing. I’d never seen him shake anybody’s hand without asking for a disinfectant wipe immediately afterward.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Monk said to her.

“
You’re
Adrian Monk?” she replied, bewildered.

“The one and only. But you can call me Chad.”

“I have heard so much about you,” she said, glancing at me. “So very, very much.”

“I’m a legend,” he said without a hint of modesty.

I wanted to change the subject quickly, so I turned to Candace. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your fiancé? Or were you going to wait until after the wedding?”

“Oh, God, what’s come over me?” she said. “Brian, this is Natalie.”

“You’re one lucky man.” I offered him my hand and he pulled me into a hug instead, pressing me close and giving me a kiss on the cheek. His arms were strong, his body was warm, and he smelled of Coppertone and Brut. It felt nice to be enveloped in muscle and masculinity, and I was a little sad when the hug ended.

“I’m so happy you could come,” Brian said. “I don’t think Candy would’ve married me if you weren’t here to be her maid of honor.”

“She’s waited a long time for this day,” I said.

“I wasn’t waiting for the
day,
” Candy said. “I was waiting for the
man
. And I finally found him.”

Candy gave his butt a playful squeeze.

“Congratulations to you both,” Monk said. “I know you weren’t expecting me, so I want to assure you I have no intention of crashing your wedding.”

“Nonsense,” Brian said. “You’re invited, and we’ll be hurt if you’re not there. Isn’t that true, sweets?”

“Absolutely, huggums,” Candy said. “There’s nothing sadder than going to a wedding alone. Trust me, I know.”

Brian loaded the suitcases into the trunk and we piled into the Mustang, Monk and I taking the backseat for the drive to Poipu Beach with Sweets and Huggums. Candace and Brian weren’t even married yet, and they already had pet names for each other. They were going to be a tough couple to hang out with.

The two-lane highway took us first through Lihue, which looked like a small Midwestern town that hadn’t changed since the 1970s. The town struck me as being totally out of place amidst the tropical setting. I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe grass huts or something.

Just outside of town, though, any similarity with rural Middle America disappeared. The verdant splendor of the fields, set against the jagged mountains, was breathtaking. I’d never seen so many shades of green before.

“I love the way it smells here.” Monk took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s a heady mix of Air Wick ‘Blue Orchid,’ 1998; Renuzit ‘After the Rain,’ 2001; and Glade ‘Tropical Mist,’ 1999; with an ever-so-slight hint of Lysol ‘Summer Breeze,’ 2003.”

“You certainly know your air fresheners,” Brian said.

“I have an extensive collection,” Monk said.

Candace gave me a look over her shoulder, and I just smiled as if to say
That’s Monk
.

“Are you in the air-freshener business?” Brian asked.

“I’m a detective,” Monk said.

“You mean like a private eye?”

“Monk, PI, that’s me. I even have a theme song. Want to hear it?”

Hell, no,
I thought, and quickly spoke up. “You ought to tell Mr. Monk what you do for a living, Brian. I think it’s a fascinating occupation.”

“I’m a sales rep for a company that makes special-order furniture for hotel rooms, corporate offices, hospitals, restaurant chains, even jails.”

“You think
that’s
fascinating?” Monk asked me.

“Haven’t you always wondered who makes that stuff?” I said. “Besides, he gets to travel all over the world.”

“Thank God for cell phones or I’d never be able to find him,” Candace said. “He spent the entire summer furnishing a resort in Australia.”

“She was complaining about how hot it was in L.A.,” Brian said, glancing at us in the rearview mirror. “You should try spending July down under. It’s blistering.”

“It’s amazing to me to hear all the places that Brian has been and all the things he’s done,” Candace said. “He’s experienced more in twenty-eight years than most people do in a lifetime—certainly more than I have ever done.”

“Like what?” Monk asked.

“I’ve worked on a cattle ranch in Texas, volunteered with the Peace Corps in Somalia, interned with archeologists in Egypt, and spent a summer on a fishing trawler off the coast of Maine,” he said. “That’s how I got this scar on my leg. It was nearly chewed off by a marlin.”

Candace looked admiringly at her fiancé and then shifted her gaze to me. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

I nodded and smiled, though I had to wonder why a guy who’d led such an exciting life had settled for a career in the furniture business.

The Grand Kiahuna Poipu was a sprawling oceanfront resort that took its design cues from the sugarcane plantation that had once occupied the property. The resort amenities included the hotel, six luxurious beachside villas that rented for $5,000 to $10,000 a day, hundreds of time-share condominiums, a championship golf course, a world-class spa, and a convention center.

The resort also offered state-of-the-art film and video production facilities, which made the Grand Kiahuna Poipu, with its palm-lined lagoon and its golden beach, the perfect setting for countless get-rich-quick infomercials, and psychic Dylan Swift’s daily TV show,
Whispers from the Other Side.

And yet, the resort was spread out over so much land, and the property so densely landscaped with monkeypod trees, palms, and thousands of different kinds of flowers, that it still managed to seem relaxed, intimate, and naturally tropical. I didn’t get a sense as we drove in that I was entering a Vegas-style “vacation destination,” though that was certainly what it was.

The massive main lobby was open on three sides and overlooked the ocean; ceiling fans with blades shaped like palm fronds pushed around the humid air. The reception area was furnished with rattan chairs, decorated with maritime art, and trimmed everywhere with lustrous koa, a hardwood native to the islands.

I headed for the registration desk before Candace stopped me.

“No, no, let Brian take care of it for you,” she said. “It’s on us, remember?”

“Thank you,” I said. “You have no idea how much I need this.”

“There are some advantages to coming from an enormously wealthy family,” she said. “You ought to know.”

We both came from rich families, but I refused to take any money from my parents—not that they’ve offered. Candace took as much as her parents were willing to give, and then some.

“I try not to think about it,” I said. “Especially when I’m paying my bills with my meager salary.”

“Speaking of your job.” Candace tipped her head toward Monk, who was checking in. “That’s
really
Adrian Monk?”

“Yes and no,” I said.

“He’s nothing at all like you described. No human being could be like that. I always knew you had to be exaggerating those stories.”

“I wasn’t; you’ll see,” I said. “And I want to apologize in advance.”

“I know what’s really going on here. It’s like when we were teenagers. When you had a crush on a boy, you’d tell everybody how gross he was and how you couldn’t stand him, and two weeks later you’d be parked on Skyline Drive, necking with him in the backseat of your parents’ station wagon.”

“That’s not what’s happening, trust me,” I said. “The only relationship between us is that of crazy employer and sane employee.”

“Then why did you invite him to come with you?”

“I didn’t. He followed me. He didn’t want to be alone.”

“You mean he couldn’t survive without you.”

“Yes,” I said. “Exactly.”

“How romantic,” she said.

“No, I didn’t mean it that way,” I said, struggling to make myself clear. “He’s obsessive-compulsive. He can’t handle the challenges of everyday life without me.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” she said with a grin.

I groaned with frustration, which seemed only to amuse her even more. I could see I wasn’t going to win this. No matter what I said it would come out wrong, and she was having way too much fun at my expense.

“Just because it’s the night before your wedding,” I said, “don’t think that will stop me from strangling you.”

She laughed and gave me a hug. She’s always been big on hugs. “It’s so great that you’re here, that
we’re
here together, and that I’m finally getting married.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” I said.

That was when Monk came over, followed by a valet who had our suitcases on one trolley.

“Good news,” Monk said. “We’re in adjoining rooms.”

Candace winked at me.

I double-checked with the front desk and made sure our rooms were even-numbered and on an even-numbered floor easily accessible by stairs so Monk wouldn’t have to use the elevator. Monk didn’t care about those details in his drugged-up state, but I knew he would a few hours later.

We were on the fourth floor, rooms 462 and 464. The rooms were tastefully decorated with rattan furniture, floral bedspreads, and fans much like the ones in the lobby. Each room had its own lanai, which is a fancy Hawaiian word for sundeck.

Monk and I both went out onto our individual lanais at about the same moment to admire our views. Our rooms faced the beach and the Grand Kiahuna Poipu’s amazing pool, a slow-moving river that weaved through a misty rain forest filled with hidden rocky grottos and ending in a waterslide that spilled into a beachfront freshwater lagoon. It was packed with kids and teenagers.

Amidst the dense tropical foliage that surrounded the pool area were several “hidden” Jacuzzis. In one I could see two lovers snuggling in the burbling water, their BlackBerries and iPods within easy reach. In another two overweight, sunburned couples stood boiling like lobsters, each one holding a tropical drink stuffed with pineapple wedges and tiny umbrellas.