“Different how?”
“Slower. More deliberate. The island forces you to pay attention to what actually matters instead of just rushing through your life, checking boxes.”
“And what actually matters?”
“Family. Community. Protecting the things that make this place special instead of letting them get destroyed by people who only see dollar signs.”
“Is that why you became a cop?”
“Part of it. Also, because someone has to stand between paradise and the people who want to exploit it. Someone has to care enough to fight back.”
“Against people like Nolan?”
He nods. “People like Nolan.”
“So,” I say, twirling my fork through the coconut rice and trying to sound casual instead of like someone conducting an interrogation over fish, “how exactly did Nolan die? I mean, obviously, he drowned, but was there something else? He seemed pretty healthy for someone who just randomly decided to take a late-night swim in our toxic waste pool.”
Hale pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth. “What makes you think there was something else?”
“Call it intuition. Or the fact that a man who was scared of everything from shellfish to sunscreen probably wouldn’t willingly enter water that looks like it could support marine life and possibly give you superpowers if you survive.”
He sets down his fork and studies me across the table. “This is confidential information.”
“I’m excellent with confidential information. Ask anyone. Very discreet. Haven’t told a soul about anything.” I pause. “Except Ruby and Lani, but they don’t count because they’re basically me.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Come on, Detective. I’ve been sharing everything I learned. Fair trade. Quid pro quo, and other Latin phrases that mean you owe me information.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, watching the last traces of sunset paint the water gold. “Oleander poisoning.”
“Oleander? The plant?”
“Highly toxic. Causes cardiac arrest and respiratory failure. Small amount mixed into food or drink, and within a few hours...” He makes a gesture that suggests things are going very badly very quickly.
“But he drowned.”
“He was incapacitated by the poison, then drowned. The guy probably couldn’t coordinate his movements well enough to swim or call for help. He may not have even known where he was by the time he hit the water.”
I feel my blood chill despite the tropical heat and the warm food in my stomach. “That’s... calculating.Premeditated. Someone planned this.”
“Very much so. Oleander poisoning looks like a heart attack if you don’t know what to look for. Easy to miss in a drowning victim unless you’re specifically testing for it.”
“And oleander grows everywhere on the island.”
“Everywhere. It’s one of the most common landscaping plants in Hawaii. Pretty white and pink flowers, popular with resort designers who don’t realize they’re planting poison gardens.”
My brain immediately jumps to the obvious suspect, thepieces clicking together like a puzzle that’s been waiting for this information. “Savannah would know about oleander. She deals with plants all day, teaches people about traditional Hawaiian flora, probably knows more about plant toxicity than anyone else on the island...”
“She would,” Hale agrees, but his tone implies he’s not as convinced as I am.
“So she’s our killer!”
“The easiest solution isn’t usually the right one, Jinx. Someone could be framing her. Someone who wants us to think exactly what you’re thinking right now.”
“But who else would know about plant toxicity?”
“Anyone with internet access. Anyone who’s lived on the island long enough to pay attention. Anyone who’s taken a basic botany class or watched a nature documentary or gotten curious about the pretty flowers growing by the resort pool.” He leans back in his chair. “The knowledge isn’t rare. It’s the willingness to use it that narrows the field.”
