Mele Kalikimaka Murder

by Aimee Gilchrist

  "Hey, I didn't realize you guys all hung out together." Alex sounded excited, like he wanted to join them, and I applauded his ability to fit in anywhere he went.

  The men all glanced at each other. "We don't really. We barely know each other, actually. But those shoes are boss," Big Steve offered.

  There was nothing about their conversation that suggested the opposite was true before we'd arrived either. This was all so frustrating.

  Alex was undaunted. "I got a pair like that at the pier in Kapa'a."

  Squid pointed at him. "Hey, me too, man. That's where I got them. One hundred bucks cash from the trunk of some old Chinese dude's car."

  Alex laughed. "Me too."

  Big Steve pointed at Squid. "Is that the same guy we bought that knockoff grill from three years ago?"

  Squid nodded. "It's right next to that shaved ice stand. You ever go there?"

  Johnny No Name, who apparently wasn't a fan of shaved ice, shook his head. Big Steve nodded pointlessly, since no one was looking at him but me. Squid was clearly gravely disappointed.

  "You should try it, dude. It's way better than Chinese shoes."

  Likely, that was profound wisdom from Squid, but I would pass on both. The conversation proceeded until it petered out, the way conversations do with people you meet at random in a crowded place, and eventually we bid each other good-bye, and the three of us set off in the direction of the resort, while No Name, Mo, and Big Steve headed for the Lava Pot. Squid stayed where he was, sitting on the back of a bench and staring out into the ocean, pot-glazed eyes focused on the reflection of the stars and twinkle lights on the pier.

  "Well, that was a pointless conversation," Georgie said, once we got far enough away that we couldn't possibly be overheard.

  "No, it wasn't. We got a great tip on shaved ice. And a contact high," Alex argued.

  * * *

  When we got back to the resort, we tried Seth's coded DEA number again, listening patiently to the list of extensions. None of the names were familiar, though it was unlikely, upon reflection, that Seth Peterson was actually Seth Peterson. He'd been hanging around for months, and now, when we really needed to talk to him, he was nowhere to be found.

  He could have filled in blanks, if he was willing. We still had no idea if Henry played any role in his brother's probably growing operation, but none of us was willing to drive all the way back out to Kapa'a on the off chance he might be hanging out at Spiker's despite the death of his brother two days before. I suspected that Seth would know who all the players were, if we could convince him to tell us. And if we could ever find him.

  We bid each other good night, and I headed to my room, my mind an endless loop of mysteries I couldn't solve, regrets for the death of Mallory for seemingly no reason, unwanted attraction to Alex, and rumination on Georgie's words earlier about my fear of commitment.

  Around four I finally slipped into fitful sleep, and when my alarm went off at five, I nearly threw it out the window. I stumbled through a cold shower, hoping it would get my mind off murder, Seth, Georgie, drugs, and Alex, and three cups of bad coffee in my quarters. One slightly wrinkled outfit, halfhearted makeup job, and another cup of coffee later, I stumbled to the lobby, none too happy.

  Darcy seemed startled to see me, and honestly, I didn't blame her. I looked like crap, and I felt even worse. I was exhausted, I was scared and sad, I was sexually frustrated, and I was at the end of my rope. At the start of business hours, I would try the DEA again, though I had no idea who I'd even talk to. The receptionist wouldn't know the false names that agents used, and I didn't know who to ask for. A quick look at the time sheets showed that Seth had not shown up for work.

  I picked up the mail and headed back to my office, sorting through it and discovering that Georgie had a package. When I looked at the return address and realized it was a replacement phone, I had to admit I was jealous. Mine hadn't come yet, and I was deprived without a way to constantly check on what the other employees and contractors were doing to get ready for the big day.

  I brought her the package into the offices where she was making copies for someone in the accounting department. "New phone."

  She grabbed it with obvious glee. "They're so fast. Yay me."

  "Physical prep for the luau begins today, so if you could just help whoever seems to need it. They'll be building up the special stoves they use to cook the big, dead pigs. So that's exciting."

  "One dead pig. Check."

  "Actually, I think it will be three dead pigs. The whole town comes up."

  Georgie laughed. "Multiple dead porkers. Check."

  "See you later," I said, headed out to check on every single detail.

  The time had come. Tomorrow was the big day, and I had no time to be distracted by Georgie, murder, or Alex. As much as I might have wanted to devote myself to the mystery at hand, I was forced to spend all day on the run, checking to ensure every detail was perfect. Caterers were in and out all day, and the kitchen was crazy. Out on the beach, locals were helping to build the imu, waiting for the trucks to bring the virgin pig sacrifices. Young men from the town were out on the beach, digging the massive holes where the underground pit would be built and the pigs roasted. Things people never thought of—transportation, manpower, arrangement of chairs—needed to be addressed.

  I was headed past the employee break room, and I stepped backward when I spotted Georgie inside. There was no question she was in turmoil. The question was why. I was busy, but not too busy to stop for a moment. I headed through the doorway and waited for her to notice me, which she didn't.

  I sat down next to Georgie, who was staring at her phone in bleak desperation. "That's not how I usually look at a brand new phone," I said softly.

  She sniffed, blinking hard. "I was just downloading my old photos from the cloud." She shut off her phone and plastered on a trembling smile. It was so fake it hurt me.

  I knew she'd probably just get angry with me again, but I couldn't stand to see her hurting this way after we'd finally started to repair our relationship. I knew what was in those pictures, because I'd begun to see what hurt Georgie the most—the only thing I'd ever seen her really care about. Her relationship with Martin Gentry, whatever that might have been.

  "Georgie, what happened with you and Marty?"

  Her eyes immediately filled with tears, and I looked away while she struggled to contain herself, because I knew she'd want to pretend she was always strong. It was what we did. She was always strong and sassy. I was always professional and efficient. Anything else wasn't acceptable. But it hurt to pretend, especially when I wanted to do something for her so badly.

  She didn't speak for a long time, and I wasn't sure if she was simply avoiding the question or if she was just trying to compose herself before speaking. "Remember how I was talking about Alex, and how I knew he was interested because I know men, and I know when they want more than friendship or professional courtesy?"

  Of course I did. It had been both welcome and a displeasure to hear it. "Yes."

  "Well, I also know when they don't."

  Her voice broke at the end, and she turned her back to me again.

  I pulled in a deep breath and put my hand on her trembling back. Those seven words explained everything without her having to do it out loud.

  She was in love with Marty, and somehow, he was not in love with her.

  I couldn't make heads or tails of the information. I couldn't imagine Georgie in love with anyone at all. No matter how hard I tried to imagine. She was just so…remote. Not that I wasn't. But she gave everything physically and held back everything emotional. In every single relationship she had. I'd never seen any indication she was even capable of deep love for a man. And I couldn't imagine Georgie wanting a man and him rejecting her. That didn't even seem like a possibility.

  "Does he…does he know how you feel?"

  Her shoulders were wracked with the tremors of silent sobbing. I rubbed her back while she cried for a long t
ime. I was in agony. Comforting people wasn't my forte, and she was so desperately in need of comfort. If I hadn't already known at the beach, I knew it now. I'd forgiven Georgie. She made stupid choices, but she hadn't done it to hurt me. She'd done it to stop me from making what she viewed as the worst mistake of my life. It was an act of dumbass desperation. Just like coming here out of nowhere.

  "No. He doesn't know anything. We're just friends in his head."

  "Well, what did you tell him when you quit?" Wouldn't he have figured it out, considering how emotional she was about it?

  "Nothing," she whispered. "I didn't tell him anything. I snuck into his room and left a note on the bed with him telling him I quit, and I ran when the ship was docked. I can't bear it. I can't keep acting like my feelings don't matter or don't exist. It's agony. And I can't hide it either. If I stayed, eventually he was going to know."

  "Maybe you should have just told him?" It was a gentle suggestion. Something I thought sounded reasonable. I'd certainly never been in a similar situation, so I had no practical advice to give, but it seemed like the rational thing to do to tell him, and then she wouldn't have been carrying around the secret.

  "I can't. I can't bear the idea of him knowing how helpless I am for him. It would be so humiliating, but more than that, it would be the end of our friendship."

  A touch of amusement crept in. "And your sudden early morning flight with no notice but a note saying you quit wasn't the end of your friendship?"

  She waved her hand. "No, not us. It's not unlike the kind of thing I would do anyway. I've done weirder things before. Chalk it up to my impulsive nature, and move on. I just need a break. I can't handle being on the boat with him anymore. If I have some time away to build up my resistance, I can go back, and I'll be fine."

  "Well, how do you know he isn't secretly harboring feelings for you too?"

  It seemed like a reasonable question, but I was alarmed by her trembling breath. "Because I know men. I know the signs. I might as well not be a girl, for all he notices me as a potential mate."

  I just couldn't believe that. Georgie was way too hot for any man to not see her as a potential mate. At least once in a while. "Okay, well, what is his type, then?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. There's nothing in common between the ones I've met except they're all crazy glamorous. I don't really do glamour."

  For all her sexiness that I envied, Georgie was right about that. She didn't do glamour. I couldn't even imagine her in an evening gown or wearing some elegant upsweep and our grandmother's jewels.

  "Every one of them has been an actress, some celebutant, or a supermodel. Straight down the line. It's clear he doesn't even like these women, but he just keeps dating them." She sighed. "I don't know what the hell he wants. It isn't even clear. He just works all day like a machine, drinks all weekend until he's basically unconscious, and hits the world hard like a linebacker desperate for a scholarship, until he's drained every single possible moment of enjoyment out of every possible experience. He never stays with any girl very long. Maybe if he did, I could move on. I'd be jealous and miserable, but I'd move on, knowing he was committed to someone else. The only thing he's committed to is me and Sapporo, not necessarily in that order. Those girls are just sex for him, or a way to kill time."

  "And you don't want to just be sex or a way to kill time," I filled in.

  She shook her head, blinking back tears again. "But I'm afraid if he offered even that much, I'd take it, because I'm desperately in love with him."

  I would have liked to imagine myself above that kind of desperation, but it wouldn't be true. If I felt like I could survive a relationship with Alex, I would take anything he offered, because I was also desperate. There was no point in lying. And I couldn't even fall back on the excuse that we were great friends that had morphed into something deeper. I was just on fire for him.

  I sighed. I was about to do something that was against my very nature with the luau tomorrow. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off and go to the beach or something?"

  She stared at me like I was talking crazy. "Seriously?"

  I shrugged and nodded. "Sure. Just…don't take the phone."

  She wiped her cheeks and laughed. "That's okay. I'm fine. I'll be outside, watching heavily muscled, slick with sweat, half-naked Polynesian dudes dig pig holes. Ciao."

  I watched her leave and sighed. If only I was as good at riding the tide. I wasn't. I went back to the conference room where the tables for the Santa visit, as well as the children's activities, would be. From the window, I watched Alex in the lobby. He was so good with the employees. They loved him so much. If we could merge into a single manager, we'd be perfect.

  The idea of Alex and I merging in any way wasn't a good one. Actually, it was. Even the idea was incredible. I picked up a coloring sheet from the pile, folded it, and fanned myself, ignoring the employee who was staring at me staring at Alex. Then he turned, and he was staring at me too. Oh, good Lord. I swallowed, struggling for breath. He didn't bother to hide his lust. It was written all over his face.

  I couldn't stand it. I couldn't. Not after spending all night drenched in sweat, tossing and turning, fantasizing about this man. When Alex looked at me like that, I become nothing but a quivering mass of hormones, screaming for attention. I licked my lips. I was smarter than this. I was. I knew if I had sex with him, no matter how much I wanted it, I would never get over it. Yet, I still heard my throaty voice carry over the radio without my permission. Apparently, it was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

  "There's a problem with the linens, Alex. Can I please see you in the linen room?"

  He caught his tongue between his teeth, his lopsided grin punching me straight in the libido. "Ten four, Boss."

  I'd never called him before. Never asked him to meet me somewhere. He was clearly delighted that I'd caved. I wasn't. It represented a weakness I couldn't seem to do anything about. I tried walking casually to the linen closet, but I couldn't. Within seconds, my clipped steps were nearly a run. When I stepped inside, he was right behind me. He slammed the door hard, and in seconds I was in his arms pushed up against the door, skirt ruched up, legs wrapped around his waist, with Alex kissing me hard.

  "Charlie. You are slaughtering me. You are so hot. I can't stand it." The words were ripped from his throat.

  If he thought he was tortured, he should stand in my shoes. If I hadn't already kicked them off. I didn't even want to do this. I knew I'd never be so sorry as I'd be when I left this place. I just couldn't bear not to do it. We'd done this before, but this was different. This was burning stabs of his tongue, hard bites, tearing at clothing. If I didn't nip this in the bud, I would be having sex with a man I really shouldn't even be with, in the middle of a workday. In a closet. Surrounded by dirty linen.

  I wanted it so bad.

  "Stop," I murmured, then arched my back when he ripped open my blouse and his hand was in my bra. "We're in a closet."

  He felt so good. I couldn't stop shaking. I kissed him until it hurt, tearing at his mouth and tongue with my teeth. His clear lack of control, the trembling of his body underneath his disheveled clothes, the harsh panting of his breath. They were making me crazy, powerful with lust and my control over this man.

  "This is a workplace." It was hard to say anything reasonable when he was grinding against me, and it would only take a few very small adjustments to take this exactly where I needed so hard for it to go.

  "Meet me tonight at my house," he ordered. It wasn't a request. That was so hot.

  Now that he was speaking so plainly, the reality of what I was initiating came crashing back, and I couldn't. He was going to hate me. But I couldn't do it. It would kill me. I wouldn't survive it. It would be a million times worse than my ruined wedding to walk away from him after this went any further.

  Finally I choked out, "I can't. I'll have sex with you."

  It sounded better, more reasonable, in my head.

  He chuckled, and
I felt it all through my body. "I know. That's the point."

  I shook my head again. "I can't." I couldn't make sentences. Not ones that would make sense. I had told him this was okay with my every behavior. But sense and panic were overriding lust. I was leaving. I was leaving. As soon as I could. I couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear the way it would feel if I let him really touch me and then walked away.

  Finally, he paused, hand tickling up my thigh, fingers seconds from teasing into my very unwelcome panties. "Why not?" I heard the dangerous tone to his voice.

  "I have to go."

  "No one will miss you for a little bit."

  I shook my head. "No, I just…I have to go. Aloha Lagoon isn't my permanent assignment. Eventually Freemont is going to call me somewhere else. I don't even know why I'm still here. I can't…I can't have sex with you when I'm leaving. I'm sorry. I really thought I could. But I can't."

  He didn't ask me why not, which seemed like the first question a man would normally ask me. That made him dangerous, because then maybe he knew how I felt about him. How much it would hurt to walk away from him. I was trying to minimize the damage, in any way I could. It was already too late. He was far under my skin now. Alex Cho had completely bewitched me. I refused to give my emotions a name, but they were overpowering. If I let him touch me, I wouldn't be able to refuse the name. It would just be there.

  He finally stepped away from me slightly, and I slid to the floor. "You're still so eager to leave?"

  I struggled to control the ache in my throat that felt a lot like an urgent need to weep. "It's my job, Alex." I blinked against the grainy burn behind my eyelids. It was best to get this over with now. "I'm sorry. Truly, I thought I could do this. But I can't. I'm leaving, and I can't."

  "You know they'd give you the manager slot here if you wanted it." He spoke so quietly, his voice even, almost dead. He didn't sound like my Alex at all. My Alex. Lord. I was so far gone.