by CindySample
“Have you talked with Keiki’s sister?” I asked.
“Not yet. I wanted to call you first. I’m not sure Walea or any of her family will even speak to me.” He sighed so deeply my phone shuddered. “I still can’t believe Keiki fell over the wall. And why was she there all alone so late at night?”
“How do you know she was by herself?”
He paused. “She must have been alone or whoever was with her would have called 911 when she fell. Wouldn’t they?”
Not if they were the person who pushed her over.
“Do you know who found her?” I said.
“The officer said some guy staying at the hotel next door got up to go to the bathroom around three-thirty in the morning. He decided to sit on the lanai and catch a moonlight view of the waves crashing on the rocks. Instead he saw the surf crashing …” another catch of his breath before Dave finished, “just below Keiki’s broken body. Geez, Laurel, what if my negligence led to her death? How am I going to make this right with her family?”
“Did the police say it was definitely an accident?”
“No, in fact it sounded like they thought the opposite. They weren’t particularly forthcoming when I asked questions although they sure asked a ton of their own.”
“Like what?”
“They questioned me about Keiki’s background, how long she’d worked for us. If she had any enemies or anyone who disliked her. Current and previous boyfriends. If I thought she was using drugs. Weird stuff like that.”
“Those aren’t unusual questions,” I said.
“Well, I’m not the crime show buff you are. I’m strictly a Kitchen Confidential junkie.”
“Do they think Keiki overdosed? Or committed suicide?”
“Oh, man. I can’t imagine any of those things.” His voice caught. “She, Keiki, had so much going for her.”
“Was there evidence of a struggle?” I asked.
“I don’t know. All I heard was the cops found bits of broken glass scattered on the rocks way below the restaurant, but that could have happened days ago.”
“What did they––”
“Hey, Regan’s on the line. Gotta run. I’ll see you later.”
A loud click. I found myself staring at my phone while four pairs of eyes stared at me.
“Why didn’t you let me talk to Dave?” Mother complained. “Is he all right?”
I nodded and slid my phone back into my tote. “He sounded as good as one would expect.”
“Did he learn anything from the cops?” Brian asked. “They didn’t test his DNA, did they?”
I frowned, trying to remember standard operating procedures on my favorite crime shows. “Dave didn’t say anything about DNA testing. Would the cops automatically test everyone they bring in for questioning?”
Brian pondered my question before replying. “It depends whether they found anything indicating the fall wasn’t an accident. I don’t know what kind of shape she was in after plummeting twenty feet.”
Liz and I both grimaced at the unpleasant image of Keiki’s crumpled form.
“If there was any evidence indicating a struggle between her and someone else,” Brian said, “they would take the DNA of potential suspects.”
“Considering the condition of her body, what could they possibly find?” Mother asked Brian.
“Her hands could indicate if she attempted to defend herself, possibly scratched someone, so the police might find DNA underneath her nails. They’ll probably test to see if she had sex with any possible suspects.”
Why is it whenever a murder occurs, the topic of sex eventually rears its ugly head?
Liz lifted her glass and proposed a toast. “To Keiki, may she rest in peace. And if someone was responsible for her tragic death, may they rot in hell!”
Mother and I shared a glance as we reluctantly raised our glasses. If someone was to blame for Keiki’s death, that person deserved punishment.
I just hoped it wasn’t anyone in my gene pool.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After a short and somber lunch, we drove back to our hotel. Brian announced his plans to take a nap. Liz decided if Brian was sleeping then she should be shopping. Since Stan acted in the capacity of unpaid personal shopper for both of us, Liz asked him to accompany her. I felt torn between watching Stan help Liz rack up frequent spender points on her Visa, and taking a nap myself. Whether it was the morning snorkel activity or the chilling news of Keiki’s death, the idea of some quiet shut-eye won out.
Mother and I returned to our room, pleased to find the beds made and fresh orchids placed in the vase on the desk. She sank into a comfortable chair and put her feet up on the oversized ottoman. I stripped off my clothes, slipped a clean extra-large T-shirt over my head and slid under the sheets. My eyelids were seconds away from closing. Soon I would forget about everything that had occurred today. I assumed my mother would do the same.
Silly me.
“Laurel, are you asleep?”
Yes. At least I will be if there are no more interruptions.
I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, willing myself to fall into a quick and oblivious slumber.
“Do you think Dave was having an affair with Keiki?”
Bye bye, dreamland.
I rolled over and faced her. “Why would you ask a question like that?”
She glanced down at her hands, clasped together as if she was in prayer. Perhaps she was praying for the soul of the deceased dancer. And for my brother.
“Last night, I sensed something was wrong between Dave and Regan, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then Brian and Stan made some comments today about Dave and Keiki when they thought I couldn’t hear them. Your brother is such a good man. I can’t imagine him having an affair.”
My big brother had been my rock during high school and in the three years since my divorce. But despite what my mother thought, he wasn’t perfect. No man is.
I still hadn’t forgiven Dave for kidnapping my Barbie doll when we were little and forgetting where he’d buried her in the backyard. After Rex, our Golden Retriever, dug her up and discovered the joys of nibbling on a curvy plastic doll, Malibu Barbie became the only Barbie in the neighborhood with an A cup.
I shook my head clear of childhood memories. “Why don’t you discuss it with Dave this evening?”
She vehemently shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t ask him a question like that. I’m not one of those prying mothers.”
Really? I wasn’t anxious to be a prying sister either, but I was concerned about Dave and Regan.
“I’ll try to talk to him tonight, although he’ll probably be exhausted from today’s ordeal. In the meantime, let’s try to enjoy ourselves for Liz’s sake. She’s worked hard to keep everyone entertained. After all, this is technically her honeymoon, even if she chose to spend it with all of us.”
I had a feeling the next time Liz planned an event, no one in my family would be invited.
* * *
Two hours later, Stan, Mother and I stood along the side of the imu pit oven where the kalua pig roasted. For centuries, the Polynesians had used underground ovens to steam whole pigs, sweet potatoes, even fish and bananas. This particular pit was four feet long and three feet wide with deep sloping sides.
The cook addressed the crowd of curious bystanders, describing how the pit was constructed. First, a layer of covering material, usually taro or green ti leaves, went over the hot lava rocks, followed by a hundred or more banana leaves or stalks, then the native pig, which was covered with more layers. Loose dirt formed the top.
“An all day event,” said the smiling chef, whose girth indicated he enjoyed his own cooking.
And I thought making sloppy Joes was a lot of work. There would be no kalua piggy roasts in my backyard anytime soon.
After admiring the imu’s skilled workmanship, we wandered over to the bar area, where the thirsty patrons had already formed a long line. I planned to limit my consumpti
on of fruity drinks tonight. I needed a clear head to wheedle personal information out of my brother.
Speaking of the devil, Dave strolled in our direction, deep in discussion with a tall, bronzed male who looked as good striding across land as he did on the deck of his vessel.
My hand involuntarily reached up to fluff my hair, which due to the island humidity, had an annoying tendency to shrivel into tiny corkscrew curls. Too bad the humidity didn’t cause my butt to shrivel up a size or two. I smoothed the skirt of my dress, pleased that I’d chosen a light blue sundress that matched my eyes, instead of a plain tee and shorts.
Dave gave me a quick peck on my cheek before turning to our mother who smothered him with a hug. Steve flashed me a smile so sexy my insides turned to poi.
My mother inspected her first-born child like an appraiser at an antiques road show. “Honey, are you okay?”
Although Dave nodded with an affirmative, the dark puffy circles under his eyes contradicted him. In the last twenty-four hours, it looked like he’d also lost even more ground in his battle of the bald.
My mother greeted Captain Steve then looked around. “Where’s Regan? Isn’t she joining us?”
“She called and said she would try to make it later.” Dave’s voice sounded as bitter as day-old espresso. “As usual, something came up at Koffee Land.”
Mother crossed her arms, looking miffed. “Your wife needs to work on her priorities.”
I, too, was surprised Regan hadn’t appeared and wondered if it was strictly due to her workload. She hadn’t seemed particularly upset about the news of Keiki’s death, but maybe she was merely relieved the beautiful dancer was no longer around to tempt Dave. I needed to find a way to get my brother alone sometime tonight and find out the truth.
Hoping to distract my mother from interrogating Dave in public, I decided to make Steve the subject of my own gentle grilling. “Have you always lived on this island?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I’m a Wall Street dropout. Seven years ago I tossed dozens of designer suits and ties in the garbage and hopped on a plane.”
“That’s impressive. People always complain about their jobs and talk about giving up a high-paced career for a more relaxed existence. You actually did it.”
“Those ties felt like a noose around my neck. Even though I left behind the opportunity to make millions, I’ve never regretted my decision.” He gestured toward the sun setting over the ocean. “You can’t put a price on this beauty.”
I nodded in agreement, although I felt more mesmerized by his gorgeous looks than the beautiful sunset in the background. Steve was not only handsome and charming. There was a depth to him.
“I know you and Dave have been friends for awhile, but how did you two meet?”
My brother smiled for the first time tonight. “C’mon, pal. Share the whole sordid story with my little sis.”
“Believe it or not, we met when I was on vacation on the island. I was here with a, um, friend.”
Dave snorted. “Steve was here with his fiancée.”
My eyebrows rose.
Steve colored under his tan. “We were staying at one of the big resorts. This island had such a strong pull over me, I told her I wanted to chuck my career and move here permanently. We were in love so it never occurred to me she wouldn’t feel the same way.”
“Instead, she dumped the contents of the ice bucket on his head,” Dave chimed in. “Told him to choose between her and the palm trees.”
Steve chuckled. “I headed out to find solace and the first person I met was my friendly hotel bartender.”
Dave smiled broadly. “I served him. Counseled him. After I closed down the bar, I helped him back to his room, worried he’d get an even frostier reception from his fiancée. She had already packed her bags and left for home. We ended up ordering room service and ate and talked all night long. At least until Steve passed out.” He shoved Steve’s shoulder. “You’re kind of a lightweight, pal.”
I could see a deep bond existed between the two men. In the next couple of days, Dave would need all the support he could get. In the distance, I spotted someone hurrying in our direction. Someone who should have been the first person to support my brother in his time of need.
But would she?
CHAPTER NINE
Regan’s long auburn hair flew in the breeze, the expression on her face blacker than the sleeveless top and slacks she wore. She marched up to Dave and poked her index finger in his chest.
“I warned you about that slut. Do you know how hard I’ve worked so you could follow your dream of owning a restaurant?” Regan’s face matched the setting sun in its intensity. The crack of her hand meeting Dave’s cheekbone was more startling than a gunshot.
“Hey!” He jumped back out of reach, the surprise of his wife’s attack evident in his expression. The imprint of her palm stood out against his cheek.
Steve pulled Regan aside. She briefly struggled before bursting into tears. He led her away, quietly rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe her.
“Dave, what on earth is going on with the two of you?” Mother asked.
“Just some issues we haven’t resolved. It doesn’t concern you in any way.”
“But––” She stopped as Dave covered her lips with his fingertips.
“Don’t worry about it.” He glanced toward his wife. Regan seemed to have calmed as she conversed with Steve. “Why don’t you and Laurel get us some seats so we can all sit together tonight? Dinner will be served soon and you don’t want to miss the show.”
I felt torn between interrogating my brother about his marital issues and keeping my mother distracted. I grabbed Mother’s arm and dragged her in the direction of the tables and chairs set up for the luau. In the seating area, she assumed typical Barbara Bradford form, scoping out the table with the best view of the performers. That meant our group would sit by the stage. I hoped Regan would keep any further accusations to herself, at least during the performance. Even though she’d indicated concerns about a possible relationship between Keiki and Dave last night, her violent outburst stunned me. Could my sister-in-law have anger management issues, causing my brother to seek other, more serene arms?
Liz, Brian and Stan interrupted my musings, tropical drinks in hand and orchid leis around their necks.
“Isn’t this fabulous?” Liz lifted her lei and sniffed in the sweet scent of the delicate purple blossoms. “Hawaii is absolutely heaven. I can’t think of a more relaxing place to be.”
Considering Keiki’s death, and my brother and sister-in-law’s domestic issues, on a scale of one to ten, Hawaii so far only qualified for a two when it came to relaxation. But I agreed the scenery was spectacular. The golden foothills outside Sacramento where I live are beautiful, but nothing compares to a brilliant orange ball of fire slowly sinking into frothy white waves. Palm fronds waving in the breeze, framed its descent.
My backyard scenery also didn’t include half-naked men dressed solely in loin cloths, running across my lawn lighting tiki torches, although that was a heck of an idea. The eerie sound of a blown conch shell broke my reverie. I gazed in the direction of something even more delectable than the bronzed young men.
Food!
The aroma of roasted pig teased my senses as we approached the buffet. Aloha-shirted servers ladled out concoctions that smelled great but looked unfamiliar until I reached the end of the line. My favorite dinner staple––mac’n’cheez. I had a feeling this breadcrumb-topped delight might surpass the blue-and-yellow-boxed recipe I specialized in making.
With my plate piled high with kalua pork, curries, lomi-lomi salmon, sweet potatoes, and a minuscule portion of the purplish poi, I returned to our table, empty with the exception of one person. My sister-in-law.
Regan slumped in the folding chair, her chin resting on her tapered fingers, her face blotchy. Remnants of mascara clumped in the shape of a tiny spider indicated she’d been crying.
I set my plate on the red-flowered ta
blecloth and reached into my shoulder bag for a tissue. I gently wiped the black smudge off her cheek. Tears welled in her eyes.
“Mahalo, thank you, for your kindness. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never hit anyone in my life.” Tiny rivulets of water rolled down her pale cheeks. “Now I’ve probably lost my husband forever.”
I dug in my purse for another tissue. “It’s totally understandable. You’ve been working hard and now this horrible accident has occurred.”
I pondered the wisdom of bringing up any romantic involvement between my brother and the dancer, but it was time to learn why Regan suspected the worst of her husband.
“Forgive me for prying, but do you honestly think Dave and Keiki were having an affair? It’s so hard for me to believe he would do something like that.”
Her dark eyes drilled into mine. “If you had spent any time with Keiki, you’d know what I was talking about. She used every inch of her perfect body to get what she wanted.”
“But why would she want Dave?” I love my brother, but the guy isn’t Brad Pitt, either in looks or bank account.
Regan shrugged. “I’m not sure. Supposedly, Keiki had a challenging childhood. Walea is actually her stepsister. I think there were issues with her own father when she was growing up so maybe she was looking for a father figure.”
“Dave said the police asked him about previous boyfriends. Were you aware of anyone Keiki dated––someone who might have been upset with her?”
“She dated one young man, also a dancer, on and off, but dumped him a few months ago. But I know he couldn’t have had anything to do with it.”
“Why not?” Former boyfriends are excellent suspects. Former husbands who leave you for another woman are even better.
Okay, I was getting off track here. I tuned in again to Regan.
“He died shortly after their break-up.”
I gasped. “How tragic. Was it an accident?”
“Possibly, although there were rumors he committed suicide because he was so devastated by the breakup. He didn’t leave a note so no one will ever know.” Regan’s face darkened as she scowled. “I used to think your brother was devoted to me. But a woman like Keiki can change a man. And not for the better.”