"You are such a caveman, Thomas" laughed Tucker. She sipped from a small beer glass and wiped her mouth carelessly. Around them the seafood restaurant was comfortably filled. Along the back wall large picture windows opened onto a view of the harbor that was only interrupted by the masts of yachts and radar beacons of giant power boats.
"What? Why do you say that?" he replied. "I was only saying that the car belongs to someone else." He nodded briefly to a distant waiter to bring another round of drinks. Although this was an informal restaurant, Magnum had felt it necessary to remove his baseball cap. It sat on the table beside him.
Tucker laughed again sticking a small fork into the dish of shrimp. "The fact that you had to tell me says enough. What's so embarrassing? My father has an Olds. He was a firefighter for thirty years."
"I'm sure your father is a great man, Jean," he pleaded, hands open. "But if you drove here in his car, you might just mention that as part of the conversation. It's not a big deal."
She covered her mouth with her plain groomed nails and pretended to be shocked. "Of course I would. Girls have to drive pink Ladybugs, don't they? Even cop girls."
He pointed at her accusingly and stuck a fork into the dressed crab on his plate. "I know you have a Chevy. Bought and paid for by the State of Hawaii."
"I have to put the gas in it myself outside office hours. And that's not cheap on these islands. Although I don't expect you to know that." She pointed her fork at him with a wink.
"Hey. I don't get a state salary. I live for expenses. I earn them," he said without embarrassment. "And Raul gets to claim for the gas in that Oldsmobile, even when he drives it home." He raised his eyebrows to amuse her.
"Oh yes. That would be the Oldsmobile that you were forced to use to get here," she laughed again. "Make sure you get it back before midnight."
"I will," he promised. "Then I can bring the other car. You know. The one that is actually mine to drive."
She wiped her fingers with a cloth napkin. Some of his male friends said she had a manly face, but Magnum knew that was her 'working face'. She was a good detective and switched off all emotional distractions when she was following up on a case.
"What are you working on these days?" she asked. "Still missing persons?"
"Ninety percent of the job," he confirmed. "People come to Hawaii thinking they can disappear in all this space, among all the islands. But it also makes them stand out. I've got a good find rate."
The main dishes of dressed crab and skewers of tuna and pineapple with a single giant bowl of steamed rice arrived and they helped themselves to each plate without formality.
"Anything big going down at the moment with you guys?" he tried to ask casually. He straightened the glass on the wooden table surface, then moved his hand to straighten it again. "I saw a lot of awkward men in suits at the airport last night. Looks like they had F.B.I. written all over them."
She lifted the beer to her mouth and held it there. "Why do you ask? You know I can't really discuss Federal matters with you. Especially not in an oyster bar."
He tilted his head back resisting the urge to say anything suggestive. "Come on. You and the Feds aren't best friends. You know any time they set foot in your offices you have to throw rose petals on the floor."
"Yes. Mixed with broken glass." She finished the drink and looked down at her dinner plate thinking. Then she looked up quickly and signalled to the head waiter to bring the check.
"I've got to go. Walk me to my car." Her face was no longer happy. She looked tired.
Magnum tilted his head. "Already? We didn't even get to dessert. I thought this was your day off? That's why we arranged this."
"I've got paperwork. I've always got paperwork." She stood up, smoothed down the front of her shirt and pulled on the casual jacket that distinguished her in no particular way. "Walk me to the car," she repeated placing neat five-dollar bills on the table.
As Magnum followed her out, he met the gaze of the head waiter and nodded in the usual way. "Give my regards to Mr. Masters," the waiter said.
Although the estate had a substantial billing account with the restaurant, Magnum had never been successful in charging anything to it. He gave a tight smile and placed his cap firmly on his head.
Tucker was already opening the drivers door with her keys when he caught up with her in the scrubby parking lot. "Get the new model," he joked. "The paint job is better for the sea air."
Tucker looked up at him and decided not to sit immediately in the car. "Do you get vacation time, Thomas?"
"Every day," he replied. "The benefits of being your own boss." He thought for a second. "Do you want to go away somewhere, Jean?" The words seemed unusual to him. He moved to touch the shoulder of her jacket, but she angled away.
"Not us," she laughed awkwardly. "Why don't you get off the islands for a couple of weeks? You could do with a rest." she dropped to the seat, reached into the sun vizor and put on the oversized shades she kept there. The shape of her face was smooth and handsome.
Magnum thought quickly. He shut down the long list of questions that he had been ready to pour out. "You might be right. Even paradise can get tiring." He relaxed his face. "I'll see you around."
Tucker pulled the driver door closed and looked up at Magnum's face. She gave a brief worthless wave as she fired the engine and drove off. But behind the shaded lenses he could not see what she was thinking.