There’s something about getting out there among the waves, surrounded by sea and sky, that helps me focus my concentration, free my subconscious mind to look for patterns and ask questions I haven’t thought of yet.But my back was still red and scaly, flaking skin all over my sheets that Saturday morning, so I knew surfing was out. I decided to roller blade instead, and, to make the best of a bad situation, to blade over to Gunter’s house and see how he was doing, now that he was home from the hospital. Before I left, though, I tried to get hold of Mike Riccardi but couldn’t reach him, leaving him a message.It was a gorgeous morning, only a few puffy clouds congregating over the tops of the Ko’olau mountains. The bad news was that meant there wasn’t going to be any rain.The rest of the sky was a luminous light blue. A gentle trade wind ruffled the tops of the palm trees as I bladed toward Diamond Head on Ala Wai Boulevard, shutting out the hotel vans and idle tourists in rental cars, the blaring horns and distant sirens.
