Chapter 1

I hadn't auditioned for a play since high school. I didn't think I ever would again. My high school dramatic career had lasted through two plays, one of which, a musical, I didn't mind ending up in the chorus, not having any voice training or a voice one would want to hear front and center. The other was "A Member of the Wedding." For some reason I had convinced myself I had talent as an actor. Even my friends were impressed by my audition, the most knowledgeable of them telling me I had a nice naturalistic quality. Disappointedly I ended up cast in a non speaking role as "a member of the wedding."

I found myself more than five years later in my third audition in the last two months, a locally written play produced by a small community theater company located at the base of Diamond Head. Remarkably one of the two directors for which I auditioned offered me a fairly substantial role I had to turn down. Not very professional of me as an actor but a necessity as a private investigator.

There had never been as much preparation involved in finding a person, or for any other type of case, either before or after this one. The client Jordan McAndrews, a CFO of a global technology manufacturing business in Minneapolis whose wife had left him and their two young children suddenly a half a year before. His wealth enabled practically limitless expense finding her. Other investigators throughout the mainland had tried tracking her down. One, after interviewing her father, suggested hiring a PI in Honolulu. Her father, a fellow veteran and acquaintance of Sam Kamalua, ended up being the conduit which got Sandy and I hired.

When Sandy interviewed the client and the missing woman's father, she agreed that Honolulu was a likely destination. Joan McAndrews, born Joan Trotter, had lived on Oahu when her father was stationed at Pearl for a couple of years. The McAndrews family had vacationed here as well, a highlight of her life. Clearly she loved it here.

Joan was also an obsessed semi-professional thespian. She acted in several plays in the Twin Cities, mostly in a couple of old, well regarded dinner theaters. Sandy sensed it had been a bone of contention between her and her husband. Not needing to work for a living, and having rehearsals and performances in the evening and weekends when her husband was home and could look after the children, as well as having a live in maid/babysitter, gave her opportunity to act. But of course it limited time together with the husband, and much more importantly according to her husband, made her not as available as she should be for her kids.

Could she be so obvious as to stick to her two obsessions: Hawaii and acting; and make herself available to be found? As it turned out, she could. As they say, third time's the charm. I waited in the theater seats to audition, going through my modern audition piece--a monologue from the "Zoo Story"-- in my mind when she strolled in.

My immediate thought was to call and thank Pat Bishop. A half Japanese, half Haoli actor, Pat had a recurring role on Magnum PI. Four years ahead of me in school, I never met him but knew his sister well having had her as a classmate for much of my years at public school. Through his sister, I had contacted and hired Pat to be an intensive acting coach for a little over two months.

Maybe it was my undercover experience living dangerously as someone else that kept me calm on stage, and the presence of my target gave me an extra jolt of energy, thankfully not of the nervous kind. The feeling I got from doing my monologue I had never felt before. I connected to my audience. I talked to them, telling my story completely within my character. It was blissful. The smattering of applause sounded truthful, not simply expected. It was a smattering because of the small audience. It sounded bigger than the amount of people producing it, at least to me.

If I felt I had done the work I needed to do to get a part, Joan, or, as she was called by the director, Penny Kolhaas went far beyond that. She was exquisite. It reminded me of the Dianne Weist audition in "Hannah and Her Sisters." The monologue from "Our Town" charmed; a vulnerable, subtle, incredibly well structured, powerful and gorgeous performance. An attractive and intelligent blonde when sitting near me, she looked beautiful and charismatic on stage. She glowed, and not just from the makeshift lighting. Her audience of production people and auditioners stayed silent for a moment before letting loose a loud applause. She deserved a standing ovation, but the situation prevented it.

"Wow," I said when she sat a couple seats down from me. "That was amazing."

"I thought you did interesting work, too," she said quietly, recovering from the performance. Her sort of half smile on the shy side with a disarming tilt of the head stirred me.

"Thank you. I'm pretty new at this," I said truthfully.

"I couldn't tell. You seemed confident while playing a less than confident character. It was interesting."

"You must have been working on that piece for a long time."

"Not really," she said. "I like to keep things fresh. I don't stick to an audition monologue for more than a couple times. But to tell you the truth, I have performed Emily before on stage. It had been awhile though. I figured it would be new again. When I went back to it, I almost wished I had waited to do the role until I was older. I could have done so much better if I had waited until now."

"How..." I began but was shushed. The next actor began his audition. "Hungry?" I whispered to Joan/Penny. She nodded. We carefully exited the auditorium. Luckily the young man trying for a part had a hard time of it. Not lucky for him, of course. He started and stopped. He tried to get himself together when we exited, so I don't think we were being a nuisance. I certainly didn't want to get the director on our bad side.

When we exited the theater building we immediately realized it was in a residential area. "I know a place nearby, but my car is..." I gestured to the decaying monstrosity that was my brown Buick. Next to it sat a cherry red Mustang convertible circa 1967. She walked up to the driver side.

"Yours?" I asked.

"A friend's," said Penny.

"Nice," I said. She shrugged.

I guided her to the Officer's Club sitting up on Diamond Head. Silently I thanked my father for his membership. I insisted she could have anything on the menu. She went for the priciest: Surf and Turf. I decided on a humble hamburger. We shared a house salad and sipped some fine rosé.

"How do you feel when you get inside your character?" I asked.

"It's a Zen thing," she began. "It's all about preparation. You know, 'The Actor Prepares, ' and all that. The more you stuff into your head about who the person is and what she is saying and why she is saying it and how she is saying it to get what she wants, you know, the five questions, when too, and then how you build the monologue to make it interesting and vital, the more you prepare, the more you can succeed in the moment when you perform. You forget everything, even the breathing part, when to take a breath, you know, the beats. You forget it all. But of course you don't forget. It's all there in the moment. Then it's about trust. You can never be afraid that it's not going to happen, otherwise it won't. Then, well that's not so much with auditions, but it's vital when you perform, you have to be responsive. With all the preparation stuffed inside and sort of forgotten, but affecting you completely, you respond to the people around you in character."

"Just remembering the words is hard for me," I said.

She paused and stared at me. "You are new to this, aren't you?" she said.

"You must have gone to school to learn all that," I said.

She shook her head. "I went to school. I took drama, but I didn't major in it. It happened afterwards. I mean I caught the bug in high school, loved taking a couple acting classes in college, but I never really learned the craft until I started actually working. Then I did just what you're doing. I asked a million questions, read all the books. But mostly doing the work, you know, acting in front of an audience taught me."

"I hope you don't mind me picking your brain," I said. Somehow, despite our conversation she practically inhaled her meal. I waited while she chewed the piece of steak in her mouth and swallowed.

"Like I said," she finally said, "I did the same thing. I've never been on the other side, though, you know, the mentoring side."

"I guess we won't know if I will be your first pupil," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"I have to get a part first."

"No problem. You're a shoe in."

"How do you figure?"

"You'd be perfect for the part."

"What part is that?"

"The gumshoe," she said.

An uncomfortable pause ensued. She must have been sensitive to the possibility of being searched for, of being hounded by PI's sent after her by her rich husband. As far as I knew, despite the extensive search, none of the private detectives had found her. She may have been feeling confident that her escape had been successful. She had, after all, managed to make herself vulnerable to discovery. On the other hand, she seemed bright, and she had managed to remain under the radar for a long time. There had to be a sense of plausible paranoia within her to stay out of our clutches. Despite my confidence at undercover work, this was an uncommonly sensitive woman. I did my best to give a reason for my sudden, barely contained shock.

"That's a big role, isn't it? I mean, I didn't have a chance to study the script much, just during the audition, but he seems to be pretty important."

Penny laughed. "A lot of lines, hunh? Don't worry."

"But you seem so sure."

"Tell you the truth, I have an inside. Betty, the director and playwright workshopped the play at the University. I've been giving her as much help as I could. The one character she seems to be struggling the most with is the detective. She's never had a voice or a physical type available that could give her a sense of who this guy is. And there you were, tall, handsome, and a little rugged, with a naturalistic, sort of complicated acting style. The perfect gumshoe."

"So you're studying at the U?" I asked.

"Well, the workshop occurred during the summer, not really a school thing. But I am taking classes there, auditing classes. I wanted to finish up my schooling. My studies kind of ended when I got myself pregnant and married. But I'm having some troubles with transcripts, so..."

"You're married?"

"Separated," she said.

"That's tough."

"Not as tough as being married. The tough part is missing the kids. I may not have been the best mother in the world, and I'm not quite ready to be one now, but once things settle and the divorce comes through, I hope they end up here with me. I hope but..."

She looked upset. The words had tumbled out and quickly reined in.

After a long pause, I said, "I guess you don't want to go there." She shook her head.

After another long pause, I asked, "It's usually the first question, the break the ice question, but I guess I've waited long enough. Where are you from?"

"Here," she said.

Her accent, definitely Upper Midwestern, and her general attitude, that bit of tightness Mainlanders take a long time to lose, belied her statement.

"Really?" I asked.

"I've been away a long time, but I'm back. I'm back home." She said it somberly, but I sensed she felt uplifted by the statement.

"It's good to have you back," I said truthfully. We smiled and locked eyes, creating a sense of intimacy. It must have made her a little scared, because she broke off the stare and gathered her things.

"We should return to the auditions," she said tightly. "It must be winding down."

We paused in the entryway of the theater. An assistant who I had given my name to when I first arrived held us back behind the door into the auditorium. We heard some faint applause, and she let us in. I sat about where I had been sitting before. Penny talked to Betty for a minute. When the conversation began, Betty seemed a little pissed, but by the time it ended, she smiled and nodded at me. Penny winked at me before sitting at my side.

"Anyone else?" asked Betty, standing up. She was a big lady, and nearly my height. When no one responded, she said, "I'd like to hear some cold readings. I'm going to announce a list of names. Those not mentioned can leave. That doesn't mean we're not interested. The cast will be set by the end of the week. I will contact those I am interested in. If you don't hear from me by Friday, I'm sorry, but that will mean you are not in the cast. However, if you would like some crew work, give me a call next week. If you are not confident I can reach you at the number you gave me, let Billie know at the door. She will arrange a time when we can best contact you. Thank you."

Betty rattled off ten names. Unfortunately I had to wait for the last name to hear mine. I must have been pretty tight by the time she spoke my name, because when I relaxed, I sank at least a couple inches into my chair. Penny did something amazing when I relaxed. She took my hand, intertwined her fingers with mine and gave them a squeeze. I thought that would be it, she would release my hand, but she didn't. We held hands until our names were called, playing intimate touching games with our thumbs and finger pads. The intimacy made me hard. I had been semi-hard since we had first met, but I needed to adjust before getting on stage by the time our names, the last ones, finally were called.

"Relax and listen. Don't worry about the words. Just react to me," said my new mentor directly into my ear before we got up and climbed the steps to the stage.

"Read the beginning of Act II Scene 2. Read to the end, unless I stop you," commanded Betty.

She did stop us a couple of times, giving me a little insight into my character and some easy business. Each time we returned to the beginning of the scene. That helped me relax, because I got to know the words and the tone of the scene better. Responding to Penny and her responding to me also helped. She spurred me on.

At the end of the scene, the stage directions said we kiss. Happy to see it, it also surprised me since we argued throughout the scene. Penny's character tried to get my character to not be so direct and threatening to the witness and the accused. I insisted my technique always worked. She reminded me I wasn't dealing with the usual thug. In essence she considered me a thug. So in the end, when she pulls me to her, I had to decide if I should show her I could be gentle, or if she wanted to make love because she liked my thug nature.

I decided on the latter, pulling her tight against me and kissing her hard. I'm sure she must have felt my man meat. Tempted to rub, it would have been too much. However our tongues hotly dueled by the time Betty yelled, "Good." We slowly separated. Her fingers intertwined with mine when we faced out towards the audience. "Thanks everyone," said Betty once we had stepped down into the auditorium. Betty glanced at me and smiled. "We'll let you know," she said to the remaining auditioners and sat down at her dais.

I gathered my things slowly, wanting to see if Penny remained in the theater or headed out. She surprised me when she threw her stuff together and left in a hurry. "Shit," I thought. "Well, I hope I get cast. Now that she knows me, I can't follow her." By the time I emerged onto the parking lot, her Mustang backed up. "Hey," I said, restraining my desperation.

"Nice meeting you, Joe," she said, glancing at me with a tight smile. "Good work. See you next week."

"I hope so," I said to the dust, the wake of her quick departure.

As soon as I got home, hornier than a horny toad, I grabbed a cold beer, sat at my kitchen bar/table and stared at the phone. Normally I would confer with Sandy during a lusty hour or so of fucking and sucking to relieve my needs, but she was far away in Minneapolis checking out the client and Penny/Joan's previous life. Diana had been my sex partner a couple nights before, and she told me she had a date with a lesbian she had met, her first date with a woman, that night. I hadn't seen Kitty for awhile, and though I loved making love to her, she always made it too complicated, like I should decide to be her man, but at the same time she didn't want that. The idea of going fishing at the local watering hole for a one night stand rarely appealed to me. Besides, I couldn't get past the fact that I really enjoyed Penny's company, and pursuing some less than interesting woman to get friendly with held no appeal. And, of course, it would take time and money and would likely be unsuccessful. I considered a guaranteed fuck calling an escort service, but the all business, timed fucking of a professional left me cold. So I began to masturbate, closing my eyes, fantasizing about Penny.

I approached climax when the phone rang.

"Hi," said my lovely partner.

"Hi Sandy. How's life in the Twin Cities?"

"It's nice. Lots of lakes. The leaves are changing. It's a little cool, but refreshing."

"So you have nothing to do but be a tourist?"

"Hardly. Jordan McAndrews has been driving me around the cities. He doesn't want anyone to hear us. We've had a couple picnics on the edge of some beautiful lakes. He's taking me out on his sailboat tomorrow on Lake Minnetonka. You should see the houses. His is huge and there are some twice his size. I'm getting the sense that he wants more than business from me."

"Sounds like it," I said.

"I don't like him."

"Neither does Joan," I said.

"You found her!" she screamed.

"Yeah. Now what?"

"He doesn't want to grab her. He wants information."

"Like whom she's been fucking?"

"Maybe, but I don't think so. The guy is the cock of the walk. It wouldn't be too strange for a man to get it on the side and not let the wife get any, but I don't think he cares. I've seen him with his family, with the help, who must have been Joan's choice because she is anything but attractive. That's not where he lives.

"Power's his bliss. Manipulating women and money is his life. He likes challenges. The women in his office are almost all beautiful. His executive secretary is absolutely gorgeous. Her and a couple of the VPs attend and respond to his every word, but see him as an equal. The lesser employees like the secretaries and the receptionist fawn over him. Those underlings shot me daggers, while the executive secretary studied me like a threat, but oddly not sexually, and considering her awe inspiring beauty, I can imagine why she wouldn't. He likes to seduce, and I think the more challenging the seduction the better. I wouldn't be surprised if he's fucked every woman in his office, but the ones he comes back to are the executive secretary and the VPs. And I bet he spent a long time getting into those women's pants. Of course I'm just speculating, but I swear the sexual tension in his office is so thick, it's like walking underwater.

"Now if he likes challenge, if it turns him on, what would that mean for a CFO? Siphoning funds, perhaps? Accounts in Switzerland or the Cayman Islands? And if the wife, a nice, smart farm girl from the backwoods of Wisconsin finally gets sick of this philandering sophisticate and wants to get revenge and get out, what would she do?"

"Grab the money and run," I said.

"And what could he do about it?"

"Hire some stooges not associated with the government who would greatly appreciate the abundant salary he provides."

"So what's she like?" asked Sandy after a pause.

"She's lovely, incredibly talented and maybe a bit flighty."

"Couldn't bag her, hunh stud?" Sandy teased. When I told her about the events of the audition, Sandy continued to tease. "Poor baby. You must be in dire need of release. Not the time to have a girl play hard to get."

"I doubt even if she hadn't drove off I would have gotten far. She's pretty tense. But I enjoyed her company, and she seemed to enjoy mine. I think she's scared to death of intimacy."

"Or she's on the run from an unscrupulous son of a bitch."

"I'm sure that's not helping her nervous nature," I said.

"I'll check on this Penny Kolhaas. She may have come up with the name out of the blue, or it's someone from her past. If she's got the kind of money we're thinking she has, she won't need a social security card or a passport to get a job. It's worth a look."

"Sounds good," I said. "I'll keep the home fires burning."

"Don't be getting any blisters on your hand missing me."

"No thanks to you. You caught me just before I got some relief. Now I gotta start all over."

"Poor baby. Don't be using Joan as fantasy material."

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," I said.

"Oh, and Joe," said Sandy, getting serious. "I could be paranoid, but like I said, I don't like this guy. I want you to watch your back. Make sure there's no one following you, okay?"

"You be careful, too."

"I'll try. But you know how I liked the Mata Hari bit. Well, I want to learn this asshole's game first hand. I'm going to get seduced. It will play to his hopes; get him even cockier than he already is. It may even be safer to succumb. He is charming and handsome, so I don't think it should be too much of a chore."

"Wow," I said. "I hope he appreciates his luck."

"Probably not," she said. I nodded which of course she didn't see but somehow knew. We hung up.

My indefatigable penis described a gentle curve. Perhaps my balls, on the cusp of being blue, constricted the blood flow out of my flesh pole. Clearly, the fluid swelling them demanded release. I closed my eyes, revisited the stage kiss of less than an hour before, and developed it into a frenzy of stripping, licking, sucking and uninhibited screwing, with the audience of hopeful actors cheering us on, and a shirtless Betty giving directions while twirling hard nipples crowning large knockers. Penny/Joan groaned encouragement to fuck her harder.

Ready to explode at last simultaneously with the imagined Penny, the phone did its best to hold me back with its ringing. Why I didn't stop to answer it can only be explained by an absolute need for release. As soon as the telephone made its presence rudely known, the scenario disappeared like a popped balloon turned into useless rubber. I used friction alone. But when my answering machine spoke, it had the voice of Joan/Penny.

"Hi Joe, it's Penny. I hoped you might be home. I wanted to talk..."

I picked up. "Hi, Penny," I said breathlessly.

"I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time," she said.

"I was just about to finish something."

"I could call you later," her tense voice wanted anything but that.

"It was nothing important. I can always get back to it later. So how did you get my number?"

"Don't be mad. I called Betty. I told her I wanted to thank you for being such a good partner on stage."

"Are you kidding? You created all quality of the quality," I said, idly stroking my hard-on.

"Nonsense, Joe. You were perfect, so strong and confident. I've rarely had better partners, especially in a cold reading."

"Thanks," I said, trying to eliminate any doubt of her flattering intentions. I must not have been successful.

"I mean it Joe. I know you haven't had much experience, but I swear to you it didn't show." An uncomfortable pause followed.

"So," I said slowly, "were you telling Betty the truth?"

"Hunh?"

"Is that why you called? Not that I don't appreciate your praise, but ... Are you okay?"

"Oh Joe, I'm sorry." She sounded like she intended hanging up.

"Penny! Wait! Penny?"

"Yeah?" she said sadly.

"I really enjoyed our time together, the audition and our talk at the club and just sitting with you. I felt a bond, and the bond felt comfortable and exciting at the same time. I'd hoped we could exchange numbers after the audition. I'm really glad you called."

"Oh Joe, I'm sorry I rushed off. I'm ... I got scared."

"Really? I didn't mean to scare you." I felt confused. The evening with Penny tumbled through my head like a tipped jar of gemstones. Except for the kiss at the end, I couldn't find anything scary on my part.

"No, Joe, you were a gentleman. I enjoyed our time, too, probably more than you. I've led a sheltered life. No, that's not quite it. I've mostly sheltered myself from life. I can handle the little things, the domestic things, but in terms of relationships, I'm guarded. My husband considers me a cold fish, not that it would matter to him if I became the most loving woman ever. But my children..." She suddenly heaved out great sobs.

"Penny?" I said. "Do you want me to come over? Or we could meet somewhere and talk. Wouldn't that be better than talking on the phone?"

"Yeah, okay, but wait," she said, slowly pulling herself together. I waited. "What was I saying?" she finally began again. "Oh yes, the children, they don't know me. I love them with all my heart, but I never let it show. God, I haven't cried in I don't know how long." She paused, probably remembering her last cry. "Anyway, this is how I see myself. In acting class, you try a monologue that hits home too deeply, and when you get there, in those depths, the work really shines. But many actors when they get there, it scares them so much that they can't do it. They stop. As an actor, I live for those moments, but as a person, I can't go there. I'm scared, I freeze up, and I can't go on, so I don't."

"So you said you wanted to meet?" I asked.

"Okay, yeah," she said, gathering her courage. "You know the University of Hawaii radio station?"

"KTUH? It's my favorite," I said. "Why?"

"Well, have you heard the show 'Penny for Your Thoughts'?"

"Can't say that I have."

"I guess that's not too surprising, considering it's probably the worst shift on radio: 3am to 6am Tuesday morning."

"That would explain it. So you're on tonight?"

"Yep."

"But it's not even midnight."

"True. So I guess your assignment is to keep me entertained until then."

"My pleasure."

"No, actually I want to do some production work, make a PSA and a station ID, and I want you to do it with me."

"Sounds cool!" Penny's laugh was a breath of fresh air. "I'm not sure where it is. You want to meet somewhere?"

"You know the Moosehead Tavern on University?"

"Sure."

"How soon can you get there?"

"Depends on how clean you want me."

"Come as you are."

"15-20 minutes then."

"See you soon," said Penny.

"See you," I said and hung up. I gathered a couple of joints together, thinking pot always aided creativity, and headed into the lovely, trade wind cooled night to meet my target and new friend.

I found her in a booth half way through a large ice filled glass of light brown liquid. The same drink sat replicated though untouched in a position for a person sitting across the table from her to claim.

"I hope you like Long Island iced tea," she said.

I sat in front of my glass of the potent multiple alcohol concoction.

"It's not about liking. It's about getting buzzed," I said. I sucked on the straw, drawing in the sweet and bitter drink. She nodded and gave me a half smile.

"Are you feeling better?" I asked.

She nodded. "Thanks."

We sat silently studying each other. She looked good. She'd applied her make-up with subtlety and care, bringing attention to her eyes and their coronas, an ocean blue/green, and her expressive mouth, the narrow lips painted a quiet maroon. Her hair, dirty blonde with hints of red, she styled not quite shoulder length, full and unrestrained. I knew that in Minnesota her hair had been a pale yellow blonde. She made an interesting choice in altering it. She had shorn her long hair and had permed it to make it fuller, but had not gone black, instead just darkened and reddened it enough to look natural.

She wore a tight green Alligator shirt further accentuating her eyes and revealing her healthy physique. If I had an image in my mind of a corn and cheese fed farm girl from Wisconsin in her early thirties, tightened a bit from a nervous metabolism, Joan/Penny Trotter/McAndrews/Kolhaas would be it. Her breasts held full and proud, the cleavage revealed by the short unbuttoned area of the shirt hinted of a pleasurable softness.

Her height, closer to six feet than five, gave space for an even distribution of torso and legs. Her womanly, child bearing hips perfectly balanced her bosom. When she excused herself to visit the ladies room, I watched the sway of her ass, reminding me of a ripe Georgia peach. Her golden brown shorts allowed me to see the firm, full healthy thighs. Physically, Penny was a woman's woman.

Mentally however she was a mess. As soon as she got back from the ladies room she ordered another tea, and sucked it down when it arrived. Her eyes turned glassy. Her stare became more consistent. Throughout our odd meeting, we had said little. We simply looked at each other. She would stare at me for awhile, give me that quirky smile, then turn shyly away. Sometimes when she looked away, her mouth tightened. After the second drink, the stare and the smile, looser and more honest, stayed on like she posed for an artist and had found a pose she could hold comfortably.