Detective Hoover strode into his office at the Hilo police station, still spreading the relaxation of his vacation.

"Morning everyone! "

"Morning, Ray!" answered one of his colleagues, "What about your house?"

"Nearly finished!" Hoover sat down and propped his feet on the desk. "We'll have the roof covered next month, and then Ellen can relax and wait for the baby to come. Ah, this reminds me, I wanted to check if—"

"Ray? Sorry!" Another colleague, a woman with short black hair, peeked through the crack in the door. "I have something for you!"

She handed him a folder, continuing: "Nothing very nice for your first day at work, nonetheless…"
He opened the crime scene report and his face lost all traces of the former relaxed and happy mood. Naturally, he had seen some dead people in his job already; shot, stabbed, car incident victims. However these photos…! He breathed out heavily and shook his head, staring at the next one in the folder.

"Looks like we have a really crazy bastard around here... ," Hoover raised his head: "Where has she been found, this… Alexa Finley?"

"In a dumpster, seaside near Bullock's street. She was a prostitute, as far as we know," his colleague continued, "picking her clients in bars and clubs near the marina. We have an eye witness telling she was walking with a man down Pauahi Street at three in the morning."

"Good." Hoover focused on the task. "Where is the report of that precious witness?"

"You can talk to her yourself, Ray. She's waiting in the detox cell."

A moment later the detective knew why: the witness seemed to be homeless, quite drunk, and spat some niceties in his direction. So much for reliability... but they had to follow every lead. "Good morning Ma'am," he said and tried to ignore the smell. "I've been told you've seen Miss Alexa Finley last night with a man?" He held the photo up showing the dead girl's face. "She walked by my cart... could smell her perfume... remember her shoes." She drifted off and Hoover brought her back to attention. "She was not alone, right? Who was with her?"

"How the fuck should I know. Some dude... She always walks by my cart with some dude. Some kick me..."

"Can you give me a description of that man? Was he black, white? Tall, fat, old, or young? Anything helps."

...

Crystal had packed her picnic basket with fresh bread, cheese, a vegetable pie and a bottle of wine. She had chosen the sort, she and Norman were drinking during their first weekend together, 5 years ago in Yosemite National Park. He would like it, she hoped; finally some hours of relaxation after all the agitation and action of the last months against the airport !
Norman had told her the meeting would be at 1 PM, and he would be back before 5. The perfect time to snatch him for a quiet sunset picnic at the beach! Crystal was looking forward to it and could hardly wait.

It was shortly before 6, when he eventually called and told her, he would bring some of his companions with him, and no, she shouldn't prepare any extra food, because they'd already eaten in a Diner near the airport to discuss the future strategies.

As full of pleasant anticipation as Crystal had been, now her mood dropped down like fallen from a cliff. She answered monosyllabic, when he told her about the meeting and the problems, but Norman hardly seemed to notice it. When she hung up, she was close to crying. For a moment, she mused about calling one of her friends, but they had their hands full with problems - real problems, and she didn't want to bother them.

After sitting yet another 15 minutes in front of her picnic basket, Crystal decided to go and enjoy the sunset alone. She was very hungry meanwhile and moreover, not in the mood to meet Norman's fighting comrades. At such occasions, she always felt like being the odd one out. Putting a note at the kitchen table, she left through the rear door towards the beach.
She knew a spot there, where she could sit on an old trunk, shaded by the fan leaves of a palm tree and, from a slightly heightened place, watch the sea and the ships in the distance. Maybe she would feed some seagulls. It was always fun to see them compete and fight for the crumbs!

The sun was already close to the horizon, when Crystal discovered the man walking along the shore, partly in the water whenever a wave washed a bit higher. Perhaps someone taking a hike with his dog, she thought, munching her Camembert slice. Dog owners loved this trail, and the animals, too, when they ran and jumped through the warm water.

However, this wanderer seemed to be all alone. He wore white trousers and a half open white shirt, and the color of his hair was almost as fair, too. He was tall - maybe matching Norman's height - and lean, without looking emaciated. There were just enough muscles and mass to give his body the perfect proportions coming from normal work instead of artificial body building. His features were very serene, almost sad.

Crystal caught herself staring at him from her secure hide out and shook her head. What was she thinking? She behaved like her friend Margie - and Margie, in particular, had a very bad judgment when it came to men! So, this guy there was one of the typical beach hunks, probably a bored Millionaire's son chilling out from doing nothing. The sort of people who wanted the damned airport!

She had not paid attention to her picnic basket, which stood in a precarious position, and now, when she accidentally kicked her foot against it, it slid down the sandy slope, landing in front of the stranger.
He halted, turned in her direction, and discovered her. "Hello! What an unusual invitation."

She rolled her eyes, while she stepped down to him. "Sorry. It slid down before I could grab it."
She snatched the basket from the ground one moment before his hand touched the handle and felt very silly. She continued to talk to conceal the embarrassing situation.

"Normally, I watch the sunset from our roof garden, over there." She pointed in the direction.

"That is only a few meters away from my home!"

"Ah, you must be the artist who moved into the Hemsworth house some months ago! Norman told me about you." She did not mention, however, that Norman's words about their new neighbor had not been very nice. "I heard you working sometimes still late in the night."

"Yes. I like working at night time. It is quieter then, I can focus better."

Crystal nodded understandingly, even if she could not comprehend what on earth anyone could find distracting in this calm area. She didn't want to hush him away, though. A little small talk, after sitting alone at home and waiting the whole day long, wouldn't be that bad! This guy seemed an interesting person. Someone at least, who did NOT only speak about any protests or environmental problems, meetings with politicians, and so on!
"What kind of artwork do you create? Paintings?"

"It depends on my inspiration. Sculptures, and video installations. Some performances."
Despite the longing for solitude in which he had begun his evening stroll, Mikael started to like this conversation. "At the moment, I search for something new… but haven't found it yet."

"I liked Mary Cassatt a lot when I was a 12 or so! Her people looked that… real as if you just needed to put out your hand and stroke over the child's head!"

"In my artwork, I try to look behind the obvious. Behind the facades of beauty, to reveal… thoughts, emotions." Becoming aware of the bright orange-red the world was suddenly plunged in, he turned towards the sea, where the sun just melted in the water. "I try to confront people with their duplicity, to expose their inner self. Look at this sunset! Beautiful isn't it?"

"Yes!" Crystal half closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth.

"But a lot of indigenous people and ancient cultures saw the end of the world coming watching the sunset. For them, the sun died each evening. And they needed rituals to call it back in the morning. There are always multiple sides of each thing we watch…"
They stood in silence and observed the everyday drama of nature until the last red shine had vanished behind the horizon.

"I don't even know how late it is!" Crystal realized. "I better go! …. Uhm… do you want the rest of this picnic? In case you work through the night?"

A faint surprised smile flitted over his face. Then he grabbed the basket indeed. "Thank you."

"And I haven't even introduced myself! I'm Crystal Jennings."

"Mikael." He took the offered hand. "Mikael Gant."

When Crystal arrived at home, Norman and his companions were still sitting in the kitchen, smoking and discussing. For sure he had not spent one thought about her! If she had returned yet an hour later, he would not have noticed it.

"Hi, Crystal, sweetheart!" he called to her. "Meet my wonderful hopefully soon-to-be-wife, Crystal!"
All the eyes turned towards her and multiple greetings welled up. "How was it on the beach?" Norman asked.

Before she could answer, his attention was already occupied with the suggestion of one of his comrades again. When he looked up, she was already at the door.
"Don't you want to sit with us a bit? We talk about a demonstration we could organize."

What else, she thought. "No, I have a little headache. I'll lie down."

"Okay! Hope you feel better tomorrow! Good night!"

"Good night everyone!"

Crystal went to her room and stretched out on the couch. For some time, she lay there, musing about the things this artist had said to her. Mikael was his name, yes. Was he a famous person? Norman had only said „one of those lunatics piling up junk, declaring it art and selling it for millions". She had to look up in the library if she had time tomorrow. She did not want to be a complete ignorant in case she would run into him another time.

Still, no sign of Norman to join her. She started to undress. However, then she decided otherwise and stepped up to the roof garden. In the falling night, her eyes searched the former Hemsworth residence. Yes, there was still light! He was working indeed. Crystal leaned over the balustrade and wished to know, what he was creating.