Shaved

by Gina LaManna

  “So, you do think it’s murder?”

  “Well, she was exploded for crying out loud!” Lucy lowered her voice. “What was I supposed to think? She’d mixed two cleaning products together and bombed herself? Of course she was killed.”

  “Then why wouldn’t you want to know who murdered your sister?” I asked. “Were the two of you not on good terms?”

  “We made our choices,” Lucy said with a chilly hint. “I chose this lifestyle. She chose hers.”

  “What in the world sort of choices did you make that landed you a place like this?” Meg gestured around her. “The only way I’d have this much land in Hawaii is if I sold my soul to the devil.”

  Lucy’s eyes flashed. “My sister chose to spend her time with that lowlife Sam. He could barely hold down a job as a drug dealer.”

  “He deals drugs?” I asked. “How do you know?”

  Lucy waved a hand. “I don’t know if that’s what he does, but he tends to get money, and he’s never held down legal employment that I know of. I don’t know what exactly he does for his money, but I assumed. He just bought a new car, but he can’t afford regular rent payments on his shack. What am I supposed to think?”

  “Is it possible that Sam killed your sister?” I asked. “Maybe they were wrapped up in something together?”

  Lucy shrugged. “Possibly.”

  “Dude,” Meg said. “I hate to be rude, but you barely seem to care that your sister died.”

  “We weren’t close,” Lucy said icily. “I warned her that if she hung out with Sam, this is where she’d end up.”

  “Where’s that?” Meg asked.

  “Six feet under,” Lucy said. “So, yes, I’m sad. It’s horrible that my sister chose that life for herself, but I mourned her a long time ago. I mourned her when she decided to keep going back to that jerk. They were on and off for years.”

  “I’ve heard from sources that they were on again at the time of the incident,” I said. “Had you talked to your sister in the weeks leading up to her death?”

  Lucy shook her head. “If you count her calling to ask for money, then yes. But I didn’t answer.”

  “If you didn’t answer, then how did you know she wanted money?”

  “She left a message and said she wanted to get together and talk.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “For the last few years, that’s code to mean she wants me to foot her lunch bill and then write her a check for a few grand to hold her over. She always said she’d pay me back. I knew she never would. I think my husband and I have loaned her almost twelve grand in the last five years?”

  Meg’s eyebrows shot up. “What does your husband do for work?”

  Lucy’s lips quirked upward in a thin smile. “Real estate.”

  “No wonder you’ve got such sweet digs,” Meg said. “Nice catch.”

  Lucy turned to face me. “Anything else?”

  “Sam,” I said. “He doesn’t seem fond of you.”

  “No. Because I hated that my sister kept going back to him.”

  “Do you know anything about your sister’s colleagues?”

  “Down at the hotel?” Lucy wrinkled her nose. “Only the names of them. I’d never stay in that dump.”

  “Hey,” Meg said. “I’m getting married there. And it’s a five-star hotel if you round up.”

  Lucy’s eyes raked over Meg, so I butted in with another question. “Does the name Rachel ring any bells?”

  “You think Rachel has something to do with my sister’s death?” Lucy raised a hand, cupped her chin as she thought. “I could see that. She always did have a thing for Sam.”

  “I thought you didn’t know any of your sister’s friends,” I said. “How do you know Rachel?”

  “I know the name,” Lucy said shortly. “My sister would complain about her every time we had a lunch date. How Rachel was bound and determined to steal her man. I said, to hell with it! Let her have him! Then, maybe it would have been Rachel dead, and my sister would be alive.”

  “Yikes,” Meg said.

  “It’s true.” Lucy rubbed the bridge of her nose and looked suddenly tired. “If she’d just used the money I gave her to buy her own place, to get out of town—anything that got her away from Sam—we wouldn’t be here. And frankly, you still haven’t told me why you’re here. Or showed me any identification for that matter.”

  I stood. “I can show you my license. I’m not certified beyond that, but one of the residents on the island discovered my services and asked for my help.”

  “Who?”

  “Kai,” I said. “From the coffee shop. Apparently, he was good friends with your sister.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lucy gave a shake of her head. “My sister hated coffee. I mean, we have the best beans in the world here in Hawaii, and she still couldn’t stand the stuff. Not to mention, there’s no way she had money to buy coffee from Java Hut.”

  “She worked at the hotel,” Meg pointed out. “What did she use her money for?”

  “Usually to make up Sam’s rent when he fell short,” Lucy said. “Or his car payments. Or feeding herself. But she most certainly didn’t have extra to be going to five-buck-a-pop coffee shops.”

  “How well do you know Kai?”

  “I’m not friends with him, per say,” she said, “but the island’s small. I’ve seen and met him. If he knew my sister, he never said anything. And she never spoke about him.”

  “Isn’t it possible she changed?” I asked. “Maybe she was working to get away from Sam and that’s what she wanted to talk about when she called and left a message? Maybe she did go to the coffee shop and made friends as a way to escape.”

  “I suppose it’s possible,” Lucy admitted. “But after ten years of hearing the same thing over and over again, I have to admit, my hopes are not high that she transformed overnight.”

  Meg gave a huge sigh. “It’s a tragedy, really.”

  “No.” Lucy stood. “It was stupidity. She saw the life I made for myself. We came from the same family. The same poor parents. I played by the rules, and she didn’t. She fell for the wrong man, and that’s all this is about.”

  “Do you think she loved Sam?” I asked. “And do you think he loved her?”

  “It’s hard to say,” Lucy said. “I sure as hell hope so. Because otherwise, everything she’s been through would have been for nothing. If they loved each other, I suppose that’s something at the very least.”

  “Last question,” I said. “Do you think Sam was capable of killing her?”

  Lucy considered, her eyes glinting under the bright, mid-morning sun. “I can’t say either way. But I can tell you that if she hadn’t been dating Sam, she’d still be alive. Take that however you will.”

  “Really the last question,” Meg said. “If Sam was always in money trouble, that would probably mean he owed money to someone. Or was doing underhanded work. Or something, as you’ve insinuated. Who do you think Sam works for?”

  Lucy waited for a beat. One second too long. “I don’t know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my husband—he’s expecting me.”

  We shook hands all around, but as Meg and I retreated from the house, we had to leap out of the way of a shiny orange Mustang whipping into the driveway. The wheels had barely stopped turning before a man stepped out, a large man with tanned skin and tattoos up and down his arms. He stomped to the door as if he belonged, pulling keys out of his front pocket and letting himself inside.

  “It might just be me,” Meg said. “But doesn’t that seem like it might be Lucy’s husband?”

  “I’d wager you’re right,” I said, beeping Carlos’s car open. “And I’m also willing to bet that Lucy was lying about a few things.”

  “I think so, too,” Meg said. “For example, there’s no way her eyes can be so blue with that hair color. Do you think those were tinted contacts? I’m sure of it. The deception.”

  “I think she’s lying about Sam’s source of employment, if we can call it that. I
think she knows more about what he’s up to than she’s letting on.”

  “Why wouldn’t she tell us?” Meg asked as we reached the car and climbed inside. “That makes no sense. I mean, her sister was murdered. Wouldn’t she want to give us all the information she could to help us find the killer?”

  “Unless she’s somehow wrapped up in this whole thing.” I sighed. “What a mess.”

  “Yeah,” Meg agreed. “I think we might’ve found a family that’s more screwball than yours. And we had to fly six hours across the ocean to the middle of nowhere to find them. That’s not saying much for your family, Lace.”

  I grunted because I didn’t really want to ponder the truth behind Meg’s words. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I’m still thinking I need that outfit she had,” Meg said. “Say, if Lucy is wrapped up in this whole thing and goes to prison, do you think I can borrow her clothes?”

  “Well, that’s not what I was thinking, and the answer is also no,” I said. “But I was thinking I need a coffee.”

  “Dang, girl! That’s like your sixth cup this morning.”

  “Not for the caffeine,” I said, cruising away from the beachfront estate. “We need to have a chat with Kai. Something isn’t right with this whole investigation, and we need to go to the source. If Kai didn’t know May, then why would he bend over backward to find her murderer?”

  “I’m not sure,” Meg said. “But I’m thinking one iced caramel, extra-extra whipped Frappuccino might have the answer. It’s on you, right? Business expense?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Dang, I like your job,” Meg said. “Except, one problem. I think someone is chasing after us. And that someone is driving really fast and sticking a gun out the window. Floor it, sugar-mama!”

  Chapter 8

  Sure enough, one look in the rearview mirror gave me the perfect view of tinted windows and a dark-colored vehicle, a navy blue or black, accelerating toward us with no signs of slowing down.

  I gripped the wheel and hit the gas, sending Carlos’s car bursting forward before screeching left and heading north along the coast. I glanced back again, hoping beyond hope that it had all been an accident. That we were just two girls feeling paranoid thanks to a murder investigation. One screech of brakes and one loud, sharp bang later, and I knew luck wasn’t on my side.

  “I guess this is what’s called speed-sightseeing,” Meg said. “Like speed-dating with the lands. A little romantic and all, you know, what with the threat of death any minute.”

  “Not romantic,” I said, teeth gritted as I gripped the steering wheel with every last ounce of strength in my body. “I have no clue where we’re going, and a psycho is shooting at us. Call Anthony!”

  “Right. Right,” Meg said. “Are you sure you don’t want to me to shoot back?”

  “I thought they confiscated your gun at the airport!”

  “Yeah, but I just let them find that one because I wanted a strip-search from the hottie,” Meg said. “Except they didn’t give me a hottie, which was a bummer. Anyway, I made alternative arrangements for transport. I have a gun.”

  “No shooting. Call Anthony.”

  “Good because my gun is back at the hotel,” she said, grabbing for my phone and dialing. “Anthony? Hey, how’s it going? Have you seen Clay?”

  “Guns,” I reminded her. “Shooting. Urgent.”

  “Right,” Meg said to me, then turned back to the call. “Actually, hot stuff, we have some urgent news. There’s a car following us.” Meg listened quietly for a minute before responding. “Yeah, I guess you could say it’s dangerous. How bad? I don’t know, maybe a four on a scale from one to ten. I mean, they’re shooting, but their aim is real crappy.”

  Another zing of a bullet sounded, and this time, there was an accompanying crash of glass as Meg and I ducked.

  “Yes,” Meg said into the phone. “You did hear correctly. That was a gunshot and the window shattering. But Lacey’s got this under control. Don’t you, Lace?”

  “Not exactly!” I gunned the car and swerved the wrong way down a one-way street, blaring my horn.

  The car behind us missed the turnoff and for a moment disappeared from view on the other side of the highway. I slammed on my brakes and did a skidding one-eighty so the car was pointed back in the direction we came from.

  “She’s doing great,” Meg said. “Don’t panic. We’re both still alive.”

  “Anthony,” I called. “We just visited May’s sister. I don’t know if someone was watching us, or if she ratted us out to someone else, but look into it! And see if May visited Kai’s coffee shop—get Clay to look up bank records and see if she’s ever spent a dime at Java Hut, will you?”

  “Whoops,” Meg said. “I think I hung up instead of putting it on speaker. You can’t remember everything you just said word for word, by chance, can you? I’ll dial him back.”

  I grunted my dismay as Meg got him back on the line. When Anthony’s voice rang out clearly from the speaker, I gave him the shortened version of events as I navigated Carlos’s vehicle back onto the main road.

  “I don’t need Clay to dig into the bank information,” Anthony said. “I’m not all brawn, no brain.”

  “People, there are bullets!” I said. “Bad guys firing on us! We need to focus on the important things here!”

  “Where are you?” Anthony asked. “I’ll get Nora and be there in a few minutes. Hold on tight, sugar.”

  “Will do,” Meg said. “See you soon, sweetie pie.”

  “He was talking to me,” I said.

  “That’s okay. We’re family. We can share.”

  “I think we might be in the clear,” I said, glancing behind me. “Tricked them with that little turnaround back there.”

  “Um—”

  “I knew we could do it without Anthony’s help,” I said. “We got ourselves into this mess, and we got ourselves out.”

  “Great,” Meg said. “Now get us out of that.”

  I glanced over at Meg, who was pointing to our right. A small side street snaked up the mountain, cutting in and out of the jungle greenery, and on it zipped a sleek black car. It was gaining speed, flying down the road straight toward us. They’d timed it with perfect precision.

  At the rate we were going, they’d have us in their sights the second we blew through the intersection. And if they missed with the gun, they could T-bone our vehicle and send us spiraling off the edge of the rocky embankment, turning Carlos’s car into a sinking ship.

  “Don’t stop,” Meg said. “If you stop, we’re toast. Sitting ducks.”

  “But I can’t beat them.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “I’m going as fast as I can!”

  Meg glanced over at my feet. Then she unbuckled and climbed onto her knees and leaned over so her head was in my lap.

  “What are you doing?!” I shrieked. “Buckle up!”

  “I’m saving your life,” Meg said, and then she jammed my foot the rest of the way to the floor.

  I didn’t think we could move a hair faster than we already were, but the car bucked forward and whined, screaming with stress. The dark car cruised toward us. The gun came out of the window, and Meg gave my foot another pump on the gas, though the ball of my foot was pressing the floor.

  “I have an idea,” Meg said. “When we go through the intersection, pop the trunk.”

  “But—”

  “Now!”

  On Meg’s cry, I reached for the button to pop the trunk and hit it hard. The trunk sailed up, blocking the view through my rear window. Fortunately, I could see plenty through the side mirrors.

  At least half of Meg’s haul of papaya fruits flew from the trunk, scattering on the road, flying through the air in all directions. And since we were racing at over a hundred miles an hour, the sheer velocity at which they moved was enough to do some serious damage.

  Two windows instantly blew out on the other car, distracting the shooter as fruits shattered
the glass and pounded the car. Our pursuer got one wild shot off. I couldn’t see where it landed, but it hadn’t hit us, so I didn’t much care.

  I kept my foot pressed to the floor as we watched the vehicle chasing us skid, smash, and plummet through the pile of rolling papayas until the driver hit the brakes and skidded to a stop—one wheel over the edge of the rocky cliff, the other three planted firmly on the grass.

  “Well, they didn’t die,” Meg said. “So, there’s that.”

  “Neither did we,” I said with a gasp of relief.

  “I don’t think they’ll be back anytime soon,” Meg said. “We showed them who’s boss on this island.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true,” I said, shakily exhaling a breath. “But I do know we have to get to the bottom of this stupid case before things get worse. I’m so sorry, Meg. I feel awful about ruining your wedding week.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she waved a hand. “I’m a champ. An adrenaline junky. This is just my average Monday.”

  “Except it’s Wednesday.”

  “Whatever,” she said. “Oh. By the way, I should let Anthony know we’re okay.”

  Meg dialed Anthony back and put him on speakerphone.

  “No record of May ever stepping foot into Java Hut based on her bank statements,” Anthony said quickly. “I suppose she could have paid in cash, but I’m not sure that’s realistic. She used credit cards for seemingly everything else, so I’m willing to put money on the fact she didn’t spend a lot of her hard-earned cash at Kai’s.”

  “Well, then, I’m going to go talk to him,” I said. “We’ll be home soon.”

  “But—”

  “We’re going,” Meg said. “Don’t be worried about your wife, Anthony. I got her back—me and my papayas.”

  Anthony sighed. “Should I—”

  “No,” I said. “It’s better not to know.”

  Chapter 9

  “You know,” Meg said, “if you want to stop at a place, you’ve got to stop.”

  I flew by Java Hut in Carlos’s car, every nerve ending in my boding screaming at me to keep driving. The adrenaline of the car chase was just starting to dissipate, which left me wondering why I was having to thwart killers on vacation time.