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lessons I learned in the newspaper business is that things are rarely what they seem,” she insisted. “Especially in Hawaii.”
    As if she’d suddenly remembered something, she raised her hand to her throat. “Oh, great.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?”
    â€œMy favorite necklace. It’s gone!”
    â€œI saw it break when you fell. Beads went flying everywhere.”
    â€œThey weren’t beads. The necklace was made of little shells, dyed these really cool colors. A native woman who lives out in the middle of nowhere makes them. They sell them in Lahaina in a shop that specializes in crafts made by local artists. That necklace was one of the first things I bought myself when I got here. Darn!”
    â€œI noticed you wearing it,” I commented, sharing her regret. “It was really pretty.”
    â€œIt matched these earrings—see?” She pointed at the cluster of tiny shells, dyed pastel colors, bobbing below her earlobes. “Oh, well. Maybe I can get her to make me another one. Whenever I get the money, that is.”
    She began rummaging through her big black bag, pulling out one thing after another before finally retrieving her tape recorder. It wasn’t much larger than the palm of her hand. “I hope this stupid thing fared better,” she muttered, grimacing. “I’ve been having enough trouble with it lately, even before I dropped it. I finally figured out I have to check it each time to make sure it’s behaving.”
    She flicked a button and the sound of her own voice emerged from the tiny machine.
“…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?”
    She clicked it off and stuck it back in her bag, muttering, “I got the question on tape. Too bad I didn’t get an answer. But at least this stupid thing is working. I’m supposed to meet with my secret source later on tonight.”
    â€œSecret source?” I repeated, not sure if she was serious.
    Apparently she was. “Cool, huh?” she replied, grinning. “It turns out that’s something reporters really do. Just like in the movies!
    â€œAnyhow,” she said as she stood, smoothing her skirt and running her fingers through her short, spiky hair, “I’ve got to get out of here.”
    I had to admit, she looked a lot better than she had twenty minutes earlier.
    â€œI owe you,” Marnie said. “If there’s anything I can do for you while you’re here…”
    â€œI think I’m set, but you should try to take it easy for a few hours.”
    â€œThanks. Maybe I could take you on a tour later this week,” she offered. “You know, give you an insider’s look at Maui that most tourists don’t get to see.”
    â€œThat sounds great,” I told her sincerely. “Let me talk to my boyfriend, Nick. Between the conference and what’s supposed to be a romantic vacation for the two of us, we’ve got a lot of activities to squeeze in over the next few days. But it would be fun if we could work something out.”
    â€œHere’s my card,” she said, reaching into her purse. “It’s got all my phone numbers on it.”
    The business card she handed me read,
Marnie Burton, Reporter, Maui Dispatch ,
followed by the newspaper’s Kaohu Street address, phone number, and, in the lower left corner, her cell phone number. I stuck it into my pocket, then gave her one of mine.
    â€œThanks.” As she dropped my card into her giant tote bag, she caught sight of her watch and cried, “Now I’ve
really
got to get out of here. ’Bye, Jessica. Thanks for everything. It was great meeting you. And I can’t wait to show you around Maui!”
    The room seemed strangely silent after she left. I realized that Marnie Burton was one of those people who was always surrounded by a