Right from the Gecko (2 page)

“Popper, Popper…Jessica Popper?” the man running the show asked.

“That's me.”

He gave me my laminated badge, a thick conference program listing the topics and speakers for all the sessions, and a forest-green canvas bag printed with the name of the conference and the organization's logo. I figured I was all set, but then he handed me a bulky brown envelope so stuffed with goodies it was stapled shut to keep them all from falling out.

“Here's everything you need,” he announced. “Enjoy the conference.”

“Thanks.” I stuck the badge and the program in my backpack. As for the envelope, I'd been to enough of these conferences to know it contained the usual assortment of booklets advertising medications and other items of interest to veterinarians. No doubt it was also packed with freebies from the drug companies, promotional items like pens, refrigerator magnets, coasters, rubber chewy toys in bright colors, and pads of Post-its, all emblazoned with the names of the drugs they manufactured.

This one also had a hard plastic item in it that felt like an audiocassette. I'd gotten these before too. They invariably turned out to be a recording of some James Herriot wannabe reading from a book he'd written, hoping this free sample would entice all of us to buy his masterpiece and put him that much closer to
The New York Times
best-seller list.

I tucked the envelope inside the green bag, figuring I'd sort through the contents later. At the moment, I wasn't quite ready to focus on my day job. Instead, I luxuriated in the simple act of wandering through the open-air lobby, breathing in the soothingly warm air that was lightly scented with flowers. A nice side effect of all those huge bouquets of exotic flowers, I realized. Even the couches and chairs fit into the tropical feeling. They were made of bamboo and covered in bright floral fabrics.

As I strode by the front door of the hotel, however, I saw that the scene right outside the hotel was definitely lacking in aloha spirit. Crammed near the entrance were trucks from what looked like every one of the island's television stations. They were emblazoned with the call letters of what I assumed were affiliates of the major networks: KHNL, KGMB, KITV, KHON.

“What's going on?” I asked aloud, even though nobody was around to answer.

The presence of a caravan of limousines told me that whatever it was, it was bigger than the luau chef making off with the roast pig.

At the far end of the lobby, I noticed a small group of people hurrying toward a set of double doors. They looked authoritative, not only because they clutched notebooks but also because they were decked out in Hawaii's version of business clothes: neatly pressed aloha shirts worn with light-colored pants for the men, pretty flowered dresses for the women. Figuring they were somehow connected to whatever all the fuss was about, I followed.

As I neared the double doors, I heard loud singing. But this was no hula show.

“For he's a jolly good fel-low…”

The singing grew even louder when someone flung open the doors. As the group filed through, I made a quick detour back to the friendly woman at the front desk who'd checked in Nick and me.

“Excuse me, what's going on?” I asked.

Glancing toward the double doors, she replied, “Governor Wickham. He's holding a press conference. I think he's announcing the official opening of some big company that's setting up its headquarters here on the island.”

“Thank you.” I glanced back at the gift shop long enough to spot Nick, who was wearing the hot-pink and orange aloha shirt, its tags still hanging, as he examined every single shirt that remained on the rack. And then, hesitating for only a second or two, I made a beeline for the double doors and pushed my way through.

I blinked at the sight of hundreds of people crowded into a large ballroom, exuding so much enthusiasm it could have been New Year's Eve. Most of them faced the stage that was set up at one end, a platform framed by clusters of red, white, and blue crepe-paper streamers and backed with a huge Hawaiian state flag. My eyes were automatically drawn to the man at the center of it all, who stood beneath a canopy of red, white, and blue helium balloons.

Governor Wickham, I surmised. The guy with the most expensive-looking suit and the best haircut.

And a very clever haircut at that, I realized. His hair reminded me of Nick's, the way it kept falling across his forehead, giving him an energetic, almost boyish look that was an interesting contrast to its silvery-white color. In fact, his locks gleamed almost as brightly as the two rows of straight, even teeth he never stopped flashing.

A man as comfortable in the public eye as J-Lo, I thought wryly.

“…Which no-bo-dy can de-ny!”

At the end of the song, the crowd burst into loud cheering.

“Thank you so much for your support,” the governor boomed, leaning forward to make sure the microphone carried his voice throughout the room. “I'm extremely pleased to announce the arrival of an innovative new biotech firm on the island. FloraTech has performed conclusive research about the hibiscus plant's curative powers—powers that no one else has ever tapped. Their plan is to grow them on the island in massive quantities for medicinal purposes, providing not only a boon to the island's agricultural sector but also to its industrial economy. This marks a major, positive step for the people of this island. Here's to a bigger and brighter future for our beloved state of Hawaii!”

His final words elicited bursts of loud cheering and applause. Waving and smiling, Governor Wickham stepped off the stage and into the crowd. He was flanked by two men in suits that looked almost as expensive as his. I assumed they were aides, although given the almost manic vigilance with which the tall one with the dark-red hair scanned the room, he could have doubled as a bodyguard.

As the three men made their way through the ballroom toward the exit, people moved aside to clear an irregular path. So I was startled when a small group suddenly stepped forward a few yards in front of where I stood.

The press, I realized, recognizing a few of them as the notebook-bearing crowd I'd noticed earlier. The group also included photographers, some of them snapping pictures while others balanced huge video cameras on their shoulders. As the governor drew close, they swarmed around him.

“Governor Wickham,” one of the reporters called out. “Nan Higginson from the
Honolulu Star-Bulletin.
Have you made a decision yet about whether you'll run for reelection in November?”

Flashing those perfect teeth that were an orthodontist's dream, he answered, “Let's just say it's not out of the question.”

The entire room trembled from the whistles and cheers that followed.

“Governor, what will your platform be if you decide to run?” a woman clutching a KITV microphone asked.

The tall, silver-haired politician frowned as if he were giving her question careful consideration. And then, his eyes shining merrily, he replied, “That I'll continue doing the same good work for the people of Hawaii that I've been doing all along!”

This guy must spend hours practicing in front of a mirror, I thought, shaking my head.

I'd suddenly had enough of politics. Shopping for aloha shirts was beginning to sound much more appealing. In fact, I'd just turned away from the action, intending to slink out of the ballroom to find Nick, when I noticed a tiny young woman with large blue eyes and short, spiky light-brown hair that gave her a pixieish look. She was dressed in a dark blue miniskirt and a white T-shirt, with a distinctive string of multi-colored beads around her neck. An oversize black canvas tote bag that looked heavy enough to contain a bowling ball was slung over one shoulder.

I would have thought she was a teenager who'd wandered into the wrong part of the hotel if it hadn't been for the small tape recorder in her hand. I watched her make her way toward the governor with a fierce determination that reminded me of my terrier, Max. Especially when she planted herself directly in front of him.

“Governor Wickham, Marnie Burton,
Maui Dispatch.
Do you feel the arrival of a big biotech firm on an island that most people consider paradise could be seen as a major step in the wrong direction?”

I noticed that the governor's smile faltered for the first time since I'd entered the room. But only for a moment. He turned away, suddenly absorbed in waving to the people behind him.

As he and his entourage strode by, the aide on his left, the one with the red hair, passed right in front of the reporter who'd asked the troublesome question. As he did, I noticed a sudden movement. Before I had a chance to figure out what was happening, I saw the reporter lose her balance. The tape recorder flew out of her hand. She let out a startled shriek as she fell backward toward a huge potted plant.

“Oh, no!” I cried as I watched the back of her head hit the sharp edge of the metal pot. The necklace she was wearing broke from the impact, sending dozens of beads flying into the air like fireworks.

A few people gasped, but I was the only one who rushed over to help. “Are you all right?” I demanded.

She let out a moan. “Ooh! My head!” As she started to stand, she muttered, “That jerk!”

“Don't move,” I instructed. “I'll get security.”

“Jeez, no! Don't do that!”

“Then maybe I can help. Here, let me take a look.” Gently, I moved the young woman's hand away from her head. She flinched as I touched an area that was quickly swelling to the size of a small snowball.

“You've got yourself quite a bump,” I informed her.

I glanced around, still expecting someone else to come forward to help. No one did. In fact, the rest of the crowd was already streaming toward the double doors and out of the ballroom.

“You've got to get some ice on that.”

“Thanks, but I'm fine. Really. I should follow him—” As she tried to stand up, she swayed uncertainly.

“I don't think so,” I replied, grabbing her under the arms. “You might have a concussion. I'll find someone to take you to the hospital.”

“No way! I'll get stuck in the emergency room for hours, and I've got to write my article. It's not every day I get a chance to do a big story like this.”

“In that case, why don't you come up to my room so we can put some ice on that bump? At least you can lie down for a few minutes.”

“That's really nice of you,” Marnie replied, grabbing her black bag and stuffing her tape recorder into it. “I guess I probably should. But just for, like, five minutes.”

As we crossed the lobby, I spotted Nick in the gift shop. After sitting Marnie down on one of the bamboo couches, I scurried over. Not only did he have three Hawaiian shirts draped across his arm, their tags fluttering like butterflies, but he'd moved on to the display of macadamia nuts.

“Cinnamon macadamia nuts,” he greeted me. “Does that sound like something we could get addicted to?”

“Definitely,” I replied. “But right now I've got a bit of a disaster to deal with. A reporter I just met—her name is Marnie Burton—tripped and got bonked on the head. I'm going to bring her up to our room and get her some ice.”

“Whoa. Anything I can do?”

“Thanks, but I think I can handle it.”

“In that case, I'll be up soon.”

Ten minutes later, Marnie Burton was stretched across the king-size bed in my hotel room with her shoes off and a plastic bag of ice resting on the back of her head. I was about to suggest the hospital one more time when she mumbled, “I've got to get out of here. Mr. C is counting on me.”

“Mr. C?”

“Mr. Carrera, my editor. He really needs me to get this story in by tonight. Our staff is pretty lean, so it's not as if there's anybody else who could fill in for me.” Sounding apologetic, she added, “The
Maui Dispatch
is kind of a small newspaper. Number two to the
Maui News.
”

“Sounds like a great place to learn the business, though,” I offered encouragingly.

From the grateful look on Marnie's face, I realized I'd said just the right thing. “That's exactly what I thought!” Readjusting the ice pack, she said, “You're being so kind. Who are you, anyway, my guardian angel?”

“Sorry. Guess I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Jessica Popper. I'm here for the veterinary conference.”

“The AVMA, right? I noticed the sign in the lobby.”

“That's the one.”

“So you're a vet? Cool.”

“I like it.” In fact, I loved it. But I didn't take the time to go into details, since Marnie and I were still in a fact-finding mode.

“Do you have, like, a million pets?” she asked.

I laughed. “It sure feels like it sometimes. But actually, I only have two dogs, two cats, a blue and gold macaw, and a chameleon. At least, at the moment.”

“That's great. Personally, I've always been a cat person.” She suddenly laughed self-consciously. “Here I am, telling you my life story, practically, and I realize I haven't even told you my name. I'm Marnie Burton from the
Maui Dispatch
—” She stopped herself. “Sorry. Habit. That's what happens when you're working your butt off, trying to live out your lifelong dream of becoming a reporter. Although at the moment, I'm wondering if I should have followed my mother's advice and stayed in Ellensburg, Washington, and become a nursery-school teacher instead. Especially since I never planned on someplace as far away and exotic as Hawaii. But when I found the job on Monster dot-com, I figured what the heck.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Two years.”

“And how do your parents back in Ellensburg, Washington, feel about that?”

She made a face. “Not exactly supportive. In fact, they haven't talked to me since I left. Not even a birthday card. They're, like, totally the opposite of me. They've never been anywhere, and they have no interest in going anywhere. I guess they figure they can change my mind by freezing me out. Heck, I bet they don't even know my address. I keep writing to them, sending them long letters about how well I'm doing, but for all I know, they just throw them out without even opening them.”