"But your letter said he was your husband. You signed it Therese Scott."

"Oh.” There was a moment's hesitation, and Brenda would have bet she was blushing. “I just thought Pele would think of me as a more sincere person if I was married."

****

"This is nothing to concern you, Brenda,” Nelson Lau said. “We can take care of it here in Tahiti, thank you."

Brenda turned her head from the receiver and sighed. Her brother was not one of the world's great telephone personalities. The Stanford-educated Nelson was the only one of the Laus who had gone back to Tahiti from Hawaii, accepting Uncle Nick's job offer of the company's comptrollership fifteen years ago, almost the minute he'd gotten his MBA. And there he'd been ever since, very likely the most straitlaced man in French Polynesia and getting more so every year. Nelson actually wore a suit to work. In Tahiti.

"Nelson, how can I help being concerned? People have been hurt. Brian's almost been killed, and Therese-"

Muffled noises of exasperation came from the telephone. “Oh, for heaven's sake, you're making a mountain out of a molehill. Therese has always had a way of blowing things up out of proportion. You know what an extraordinarily suggestible-"

"Nelson, I want to know: Do all these accidents have anything to do with that awful gangland business?"

"Does what have anything to do with that awful gangland business? You mean all that rain last April?"

"Don't be funny, it doesn't suit you. Tell me honestly: Is this some kind of sabotage? Revenge? Are they getting back at Nick?"

"Now, really, how would I possibly know that?"

"What do you think?"

"I think…Brenda, I simply don't want to discuss it."

"Fine, but what are you doing about it?” As always, talking to Nelson brought out the bossiness in her in self-defense.

"Doing about it?” Nelson laughed, a sharp, incredulous whinny. “What would you suggest?"