Tom Fowler [Fowler - A March From Innocence

Every life is a march from innocence, through temptation, to virtue or vice.

~Lyman Abbott

Blue is an amazing and underrated color. Dust and water droplets scatter and diffuse light, making the blackness of the sky take on a vibrant hue. Three of my favorite colors of dress shirts are shades of cyan. Some people have eyes blue enough to have stolen the color from precious gems. At the current moment, my favorite shade was the perfect and endless blue of the Pacific Ocean in Hawaii.

Gloria Reading and I had been here on vacation over two weeks. My last case resulted in the suspension of my PI license for thirty days. It was only fairI assaulted the bastard, but in my defense, he murdered my sister thirteen years prior. The fact I hadnt emptied the magazine into his body didnt merit much consideration from the panel deciding my fate. I chose to get away from the emotion of the whole thing and take my beautiful girlfriend to the loveliest place on earth.

I lay on the beach, having applied enough sunscreen for two normal people. Early December in Baltimore is cold, sometimes rainy and snowy. In Hawaii, we enjoyed perfect beach weather. I lay on a chaise longue with a book, letting the sunscreen soak into my skin before I ventured into the water. Gloria, who wore a bathing suit which hugged her curves better than it absorbed water, swam in the pearlescent waves. Our resort featured a private beach and lagoon. It had pools, too, but why bother with a pool when the ocean is right there? Gloria and I swam laps every day wed been to the beach.

A few minutes later, I decided the sunblock soaked in as much as it was going to, and I joined Gloria to race out to a manmade barrier reef. Glorias athleticism usually manifested itself in tennis, but she was also a good swimmer. I, however, happen to be a great swimmer, and I beat her to the barrier. We then moved to a rock formation to our right about 200 yards away. As we got closer, the ocean got darker, shallower, and colder. Jagged stones made walking on the bottom painful, so we swam slowly up to a section of beach before exploring the formation.

We didnt have shoes, but we did have a powerful desire to climb, and we each harbored enough competitive fire to want to get there first. The slipperiness of the stone made it slow going, and we paused to give each other a hand now and again. Nothing like a little friendly cooperation among lovers in the middle of a competition. After a few minutes, we got over the rocks and found a virgin tract of beach. Here, we could swim past the man-made barrier if we chose. Instead, we lay on the warm sand, each of us breathing heavier than normal from our expedition.

Gloria kissed me and then rested her head on my chest. I could get used to being here.

Me, too, I said, but I think it would make my job harder.

How?

Well, Id be more interested in going to the beach than working for one.

I can see that.

And Id have to compete with Dog the bounty hunter. I dont think his show is still on, but a lot of people know him. Too much of a headstart.

Gloria humored me with a polite chuckle and kissed me again. Yes, but his show was terrible.

You watched it?

I had an ex who was into it. The relationship didnt last long.

How could it? I said.

* * *

Later in the day, we took our rental car and drove to Waikiki. Id made a reservation at Dukes. Originally, I tried to get a table the same night I called, and the fellow who answered the phone retained his composure enough so he didnt laugh at me. Dukes took reservations days in advance, he told me, so I conformed to custom. We headed to Waikiki early, both because of traffic and because Gloria wanted to shop. I parked in a garage, Gloria headed for stores from which she needed absolutely nothing, and I walked into Honolulu Coffee Company.

One steaming cup of java in hand, I sat at a small table and scrolled through emails on my phone. Before we left the mainland, I had sent all of my business calls to my office phone. My cell remained refreshingly quiet. Even my parents only bothered us once so far. The fact Id used their timeshare weekswhich wouldve only languished in their account, but stillto take Gloria to Hawaii tugged at my underdeveloped sense of guilt and compelled me to talk to them. I offered to take home souvenirs and my mother reacted as if Id promised to bring scurvy back to Maryland.

I checked my messages to see how things were faring. Part of running a free detective service is being in the good graces of the press. My last real case before jetting to Hawaii involved locating the missing daughter of a wealthy Baltimore magnate. She had disappeared at eighteen, been a prostitute for five years, and I remain convinced her father knew where she was the whole time. Their interesting family dynamics aside, the case provided me a nice jolt of publicity which I promptly squandered by going on vacation for four weeks. Oh, well. We cant time everything perfectly.

A few of my messages were interview requests from local media outlets. Even on vacation, I managed to find time to talk to the reporters, usually while Gloria pampered herself in the spa. The rest had been from a persistent woman who wanted me to know her niece was a troubled lass, and would I be able to help rescue the girl from a life of who-knows-what? I probably would, but the troubled lasses of Baltimore would need to wait for me to fly back home. The unnamed woman left two more messages. I deleted them both. If her niece still needed help in a week and a half, we could talk. I finished my coffee. Gloria came into the shop carrying two bags full of clothes and shoes.

Youre going to have a dozen checked bags at the airport, I said.

She shrugged and smiled. Clothes and shoes are the best reasons to check a lot of bags.

Are you ready for dinner, Imelda Marcos?

All this shopping has given me an appetite.

Good. Lets go eat too much.

Itll give us an excuse to work the calories off later, Gloria breathed into my ear.

I loved this woman.

* * *

After a terrific and filling meal at Dukes, we drove back to the resort, valeted the car, and entered through the sliding glass front doors. A few police officers walked away from a middle-aged woman who shook her head and wiped her eyes. She sagged into a chair in the lobby. Gloria squeezed my hand when we saw the drama play out. We approached the woman. Is everything OK? I said.

The woman shook her head anew. Its my husband, she said. Hes missing, and the police wont do anything! This led to a new round of tears. Gloria fetched a box of tissues from the concierge desk and handed one to the woman, who accepted it with a grateful nod.