The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance (Trisha Telep) (Kitty Norville 0.50)

“Sure. Pele’s the temperamental Hawaiian volcano goddess. She likes to shake things up when she’s ticked off- shoot out an ash cloud, spew a lava fountain or two. I don’t understand the reference to tears, though.”

“Pele’s tears are what vulcanologists call fused droplets of volcanic glass.”

“Obsidian?”

“Exactly. Naturally occurring obsidian teardrops. My grandmother started collecting them last year.”

“I thought taking rocks from Pele was a big kapu,” Dillon said.

“Oh, but she wasn’t collecting the tears from Pele; she was collecting them for Pele. Grandmother bought tears wherever she could find them - in souvenir shops, from people who posted ads in the classified section of the paper, even on eBay. I suspect she believed returning them to the volcano would bring her good luck.” Noelani quickly averted her gaze.

Dillon was fairly certain he hadn’t imagined the catch in her voice or the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. “Then that’s why she took the helicopter tour? To return the tears to Pele?”

“Yes, she arranged it all beforehand with the pilot. I know she meant to toss the tears into the crater, but I’m not convinced she meant to toss herself in as well.”

“OK,” Dillon said. “What are you suggesting? That Pele’s responsible for your grandmother’s death?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Noelani glared. “What sort of superstitious fool do you take me for?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No.” She waved away his apology, her irritation vanishing as quickly as ithad materialized. “I know suicide fits the facts, and I might have reconciled myself to it eventually, but then I got a call from Lily Yamaguchi, my grandmother’s housekeeper. Lily was upset. She said she’d noticed something strange.”

“What?”

Noelani hesitated. “On the wall of my grandmother’s office at her place on the Big Island is a picture, an enlargement of an old black-and-white snapshot of my grandfather in his navy uniform. He’s leaning against a palm tree, grinning at the camera. His best friend snapped the photograph the week before the attack on Pearl Harbor.” Noelani glanced up, and Dillon found himself mesmerized by her eyes - so sad, so vulnerable, so lovely. After a moment, she lowered her gaze, focusing in seeming fascination on a set of leprechaun salt and pepper shakers.

“I’m confused,” Dillon said. In more ways than one. “What upset the housekeeper?”

“The picture,” Noelani said. “It . . . had changed.”

“What do you mean ‘changed’? Was it ripped? Faded? What?”

“No damage.” Noelani stared at her hands. “The change is, my grandmother’s in the photograph now, standing beside my grandfather.”

Silence filled the space between them for an endless moment.

Dillon was the first to speak. “Somebody obviously switched photographs without telling the housekeeper.”

“There’s nothing obvious about it,” Noelani snapped. “With Grandmother gone, no one’s living in the house. It’s kept locked, and Lily’s the only one with a key. No one else has been there.”

No one she knew of.

“Besides, my grandmother wasn’t on Oahu the day that picture was taken. She’d returned to the Big Island - to Hilo - the day before to bail her brother out of jail.”

“So the photo was taken another time,” Dillon said. “Mystery solved.”

“That’s the thing. It’s not a different photograph. It’s the same photograph. The only difference is that my grandmother’s in it now.”

Dillon took a deep breath. He’d seen it before. Grief made people — even sensible, intelligent people - gullible, willing to believe things they’d never accept under ordinary circumstances. “Could the housekeeper be mistaken?”

“That’s what I assumed at first. What other rational explanation is there?” Noelani gave him a troubled look.

“So for the sake of argument, say I’m right. Say the photograph of your grandparents was taken at the same location on a different day. Maybe your grandmother swapped the pictures, but the housekeeper didn’t notice until after your grandmother’s death.”

“If so,” Noelani said, “there should still be some trace of the original photo, but there’s not. Lily w

ent through Grandmother’s photo albums. There’s no sign of it.”