For the second time in twenty-four hours, I feel like a crushing weight has been removed from my shoulders. Mom is fine. But which fine would she be? June Cleaver Mom or Crazy Island Mom?
I rise. "Thanks, Doctor!"
Aside from my cracking the case wide open, this is the best news ever.
Back at home I open the front door to find a dozen or so cardboard cutouts of Star Wars Stormtroopers, all wearing leis and grass skirts, staring at me. How did she do this so fast? I wasn't gone more than twenty or thirty minutes.
"Nani!" Mom shrieks.
She's dressed in a T-shirt. My T-shirt. And I don't mean that she borrowed one from me. She's wearing one of the Ukulele Undertaker shirts.
"Mom! What…why are you…arrgh!" I can't make my mouth work. But then I realize, of course she bought one of the shirts, and give up. Just go with it is my new motto, remember?
She ignores my outburst, a cocktail in her hand. "I thought we'd celebrate."
"Sounds perfect," I say as I follow her to the kitchen.
After guzzling down something frosty with a pink parasol and more rum than I think is legal, I ask her how she found out about the tests.
"What tests?" She frowns.
"Dr. Chang. The tests." She looks confused, and I'm not in the mood to try to explain, so I drop it. "So what are we celebrating?"
"We are celebrating that you don't have to go to jail because you roofied me!"
I sigh. "Well, there was considerably more to it than that. But okay." I decide to leave out the fact that Terry Flynn roofied her. It would just confuse things.
She drains her glass and fills it up again from the blender's pitcher.
"So what did you think?" she asks.
There were an endless number of possibilities. So I ask, "About what?"
She rolls her eyes. "About my masquerade?"
I set my glass down. "I'm lost. What are you talking about?"
"I was undercover to help you! To prove you innocent."
And then it hits me. The German stuff, the coddling, it was all an act. I have no idea what she thinks she did to help me, but I don't care. Mom is back.
"I don't know how I could've done it without you," I say with a smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel is lit up like Christmas when I step inside. Dan doesn't usually turn on all the lights when it's just him. I close the door and wander into the office. What's the emergency, I wonder. Right after Mom's breakthrough that turns out not to be a breakthrough, I received an urgent text to go to the chapel.
That's when I see it. Dan and Mary Lou popping the cork on a bottle of champagne. They giggle like teenagers when it overflows.
"What's going on here?"
Did Dan give in and propose? In what universe is that possible? But here they are, celebrating in front of me. I guess he couldn't take it any longer. Poor man.
"Big news!" Mary Lou laughs. She actually laughs in a way that doesn't sound like something that makes puppies explode.
"Congratulations to you both." I pick up a champagne flute and hold it up in a toast. There's too much to process here. I'm just going to go with it, since that's my new thing.
Dan nods. He doesn't seem overjoyed as much as relieved. I can understand that.
"It's been a long time in coming, but she finally got me to do it."
"Way too long," Mary Lou adds. Her towering nest of hair wiggles as she nods.
"So—" I plop down on the sofa so they don't see me stagger under the weight of the news. What if they have children? I suppress a shudder.
"When is it taking place?" Oh well. They seem happy. I can't begrudge them that.
"Immediately!" Mary Lou claps her hands together.
So that's what's going on. I'm to perform at their wedding. Good thing I always have a uke in the car. But who will be the officiant? I don't think Dan can do it. Can he?
"And then it's off to Laos?" I ask.
They turn and look at me in surprise.
"Why on earth would we be going there?" Mary Lou barks angrily. Somewhere a fairy dies.
"For the honeymoon?" I ask.
The two of them look at each other and then at me.
"We aren't getting married, Nani," Dan says.
"Dan's made me partner!" Mary Lou shrieks. "I'm your boss now! And believe me, things are going to change around here!"
"But…but I thought you wanted a proposal?" I sputter.
Mary Lou's laughter has the disturbing ring of an evil mastermind. Were her outrageous demands just an attempt to get Dan to make her partner? It was certainly better than marrying her.
Did I get played or what?
Detective Ray calls a few hours later, once I get home. He tells me that formerly Real, now Fake, Live Ed really is John Gilligan. And Terry Flynn's fingerprints revealed that he was actually some weasel (I always suspected) named Reginald Blaine. The Feds didn't realize these two were working together, but he had a similar rap sheet, and they were going to look into that.
"Gilligan confessed to killing Allison and Terry Flynn, aka Reginald Blaine. The original plan had been to smuggle the contraband from Kansas to Kauai to Japan.
"Gilligan had started a business here on the island to avoid issues with the US Postal Service." A blazing neon light came on in my head. "Let me guess—Mail Your Stuff?"
"Yes," Detective Ray answers. "He'd set up the business under the name Smith."
"What about the insurance agents in that strip mall?"
"Alvin Smoot and Ben Tashumi? Why would you think they're in on it? I've known Ben for years. A bit of a conspiracy nut, and Alvin has a thing for pretty women, but both are harmless. In fact, the two are combining their businesses."
That explains the photo of Allison, and the clippings in Tashumi's office, and what Binny and I'd seen of the men together at that little dive bar. I just hope they never find out we broke in that night.
"And Rose? The employee? Is she involved?"
Ray grumbles. "No, of course not. She's my cousin's niece. You are a very suspicious person."
"Was anyone else involved?"
"What do you mean by that?" By the sound of his voice, I can tell he's confused.
I take a deep breath. I'm about to accuse someone with no evidence, but I have to know.
"Titus Allen. He's a groundskeeper at the resort." Against my own judgement, I tell Ray what Titus had said in the jungle. Of course, I leave out that I'd followed him. That would just make the detective angry.
"How did you know about him? Jimmy Toki, the head of security at the resort, brought him in this morning. He was running a pickpocket scam at the luaus."
Oops. I hadn't overheard Titus talking about murdering Allison. I'd overheard him talking about picking the pockets of guests at the luau.
"How did you hear this conversation, Miss Johnson?"
"Oh…I was taking a walk around the grounds and accidentally heard him. I thought he was talking about Allison though."
It was as if I could hear the man shaking his head. "That wasn't even part of your case. Now you're investigating other cases too?"
"I'm sorry," I apologize. "I got a little mixed up."
"Next time," Ray's monotone voice says, "leave the investigation to the professionals."
I hear the front door open and two women's laughter. Mom's home. She must have Vera with her.
"No problem, Detective," I say.
He hangs up. I feel bad about the whole Titus thing, and for suspecting the two insurance salesmen. Oh well. It all turned out okay in the end.
As far as everything else goes, Nick and I had ordered two bouquets of orchids native to Kauai sent to Kansas for Allison's and Ed's funerals. We didn't really know them, but they were the good guys, so we thought we should. And Allison really was an amazing singer.
Binny is on a flight to Felix, Kansas, with Andy. He's decided to move out here. I guess they're pretty serious. I never expected that, but I'm thrilled. T
hey make an odd-looking but very cute couple. And I hope it works out.
"Nani?" Mom shouts from the foyer.
"In the kitchen!" I holler back.
"I have my new friend with me!" she shouts.
Ah. I should try to make a good impression. Anyone who tolerates Mom's idiosyncrasies is A-OK in my book. Besides, she'll need someone other than Vera to look after her when Nick and I slip away to Maui in few weeks.
My cell buzzes. It's a text from Nick. Found out who's behind the T-shirts. You are not going to like this.
Mom bursts into the kitchen, tottering on high heels and wearing a new muumuu. Where'd she get the money for that?
"My new business is looking up!" Mom smiles.
"Your new business?" I ask. Since when does Mom have a business? Nick's texting continues: Your mom is the criminal mastermind. She said you agreed to the shirts. And she had help from a friend…
My brain is numb, and I shove the cell away. I'm not sure I can handle this right now. First I need to meet the new friend. Pasting a smile on my face, I wait for introductions.
"I'd like you to meet my new best friend and business partner!" she says as she steps back to reveal the pinched face and helmeted hair of Mary Lou Gorman.
Oh man.
* * * * *
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Leslie Langtry is the USA Today bestselling author of the Greatest Hits Mysteries series, Sex, Lies, & Family Vacations, The Hanging Tree Tales as Max Deimos, the Merry Wrath Mysteries, and several books she hasn't finished yet, because she's very lazy.
Leslie loves puppies and cake (but she will not share her cake with puppies) and thinks praying mantids make everything better. She lives with her family and assorted animals in the Midwest, where she is currently working on her next book and trying to learn to play the ukulele.
To learn more about Leslie, visit her online at: http://www.leslielangtry.com
* * * * *
BOOKS BY LESLIE LANGTRY
Aloha Lagoon Mysteries:
Ukulele Murder
Ukulele Deadly
Merry Wrath Mysteries:
Merit Badge Murder
Mint Cookie Murder
Scout Camp Murder (short story in the Killer Beach Reads collection)
Marshmallow S'More Murder
Movie Night Murder
Mud Run Murder
Fishing Badge Murder (short story in the Pushing Up Daisies collection)
Motto for Murder
Map Skills Murder
Mean Girl Murder
Greatest Hits Mysteries:
'Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy
Guns Will Keep Us Together
Stand By Your Hitman
I Shot You Babe
Paradise By The Rifle Sights
Snuff the Magic Dragon
My Heroes Have Always Been Hitmen
Have Yourself a Deadly Little Christmas (a holiday short story)
Other Works:
Sex, Lies, & Family Vacations
* * * * *
BIKINIS & BLOODSHED
by
ANNE MARIE STODDARD
* * * * *
For Leslie, Sally, Jean, Beth, Mary Jo, Aimee, Catherine, & Dane: Thanks for welcoming Kaley home to Aloha Lagoon!
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A lot of work goes into writing and releasing a book, and thankfully, I get to do the fun part (which mainly entails drinking copious amounts of coffee, daydreaming, and talking to characters in my head while typing away on my keyboard). However, this book wouldn't be possible without all the amazing people who gave their time and expertise to help polish my story until it shined. First and foremost, thank you to my mentor, Gemma Halliday, for offering encouragement and excellent writing advice, as well as for continually giving me the opportunity to share my stories with so many readers. Thank you also to Kim Mulkey Griggs and Dori Harrell for getting to know my characters and providing invaluable editorial feedback. Thank you to all of the other Gemma Halliday Publishing authors for being the most incredibly talented, kind, and supportive group of women I've had the pleasure of working with. I'd also like to thank anyone who reads this book. Kaley, Noa, Aunt Rikki, and the others wouldn't exist without your support!
* * * * *
CHAPTER ONE
"I don't get it," said the petite redhead in front of me. Through the sliver of space between the airplane seats, I watched her swivel to face her friend, a curvy brunette with an unfortunate acne problem. "'Aloha' means 'hello' and 'goodbye'? How does that even make sense?" She scrunched her nose. "Why would you say the same thing regardless of whether you're coming or going?"
The brunette flipped the page of the magazine she'd been browsing. "I think that's a common misconception, actually," she said. "I read that people do say it as a greeting sometimes, but it actually means 'love and peace,' or something like that. It really describes the Hawaiian way of life."
"The Hawaiian way of life?" The first girl snorted. "What is that—like, actual sex on the beach? Or shaking your booty in a grass skirt and chugging mai tais all day long?" She seemed to think that over for a moment, and a grin spread across her freckled face. "You know, that actually sounds pretty great. Where can I sign up?"
I rolled my eyes. Silly mainlanders. At least the brunette had done her homework. Tourists were always so quick to mimic our culture and expressions for their amusement. I turned in my window seat to stare at the vast ocean below and caught a glimpse of my reflection. A blush crept into my cheeks. I had no room to gripe.
Despite being born and raised in Kauai, I was as pale as the two women seated in front of me. My father had been Maoli, a Native Hawaiian, but my mother had been a blonde, blue-eyed New Yorker with skin whiter than the sand of the local beaches. Though I'd inherited my father's dark brown hair and eyes, my lighter complexion was a gift from Mama.
For the most part, I didn't even talk like an islander either, having spent the past five years managing a clothing boutique in Atlanta, Georgia. Words and phrases like "y'all," "darlin'," and "bless your heart" had found their way into my vernacular. I'd spent a truckload of money maintaining the golden highlights that accented my naturally dark hair. Even my name, Kaley, was a mainlander's abbreviation of my Hawaiian birth name, Kalani. I'd transformed from a proud half-Native Hawaiian to Southern Belle Barbie. Love makes you do some pretty crazy stuff.
What did all that effort get me? My wispy bangs bounced as I puffed out a frustrated breath. A one-way ticket back to the islands and a pasty tan line on my ring finger. I'd completely reinvented myself to please my husband only to have him leave me for someone "more exotic" (his words, not mine). Actually, it was more like several someones.
As if to rub saltwater in the wound of my recent divorce, a little boy who'd also been on my connecting flight from Atlanta scurried up the aisle wearing an oversized Falcons jersey. The name and number stitched to the back of his shirt were like a dagger through my bruised heart. Colfax, Fifteen.
Bryan Colfax was the star running back for Georgia's beloved pro football team. Despite the fact that it was the end of June and the first kickoff was a couple of months away, I couldn't walk more than five feet in any direction of downtown Atlanta without seeing his face on a billboard or passing some fan wearing his jersey. Apparently, I couldn't even escape him on a cross-country flight. Here I was, somewhere miles above the Pacific Ocean, and my ex was still everywhere I looked.
Up until a few weeks ago, I wouldn't have minded. I used to swell with pride every time I introduced myself as Mrs. Colfax or overheard someone gushing over Bryan's last-minute, game-winning touchdown run against the Saints last season. Of course, that had all changed when I'd come home from work early last month to discover Bryan holding private auditions for the Falcons cheerleading squad in the bedroom of our penthouse condo. Nothing ends a marriage faster than seeing your husband beneath three hot twenty-two-year-olds in naked pyramid formation. Bryan and I had been having trouble connecting over the past se
veral months, but that had been the game-ending play.
After telling the ladies where they could shove their pom-poms, I'd given Bryan my spirit finger and kicked him out of the condo. Unfortunately, that hadn't lasted very long, considering the property was in his name and our prenup hadn't included an infidelity clause. One expedited divorce later, all I had left of my life in Georgia was public humiliation, a broken heart, and an oversized Prada duffel full of clothes and shoes. I'd even dropped that two-timing jerk's last name. Goodbye, Kaley Colfax, I thought as the pilot announced our descent toward Kauai's Lihue Airport. Hello again, Kaley Kalua.
* * *
"Aloha! Welcome to Hawaii." A young stewardess in a navy blue blazer with a pink hibiscus flower pinned in her hair stood just inside the airport terminal, greeting travelers and placing colorful flowered leis around their necks.
The two young women who had been seated in front of me on the plane rushed toward her, squealing in delight. "Aloha!" the redhead cried, ducking her head so the stewardess could place the flowers around her neck. She straightened and turned to her friend. "Been here five minutes and I've already gotten laid," she said, bouncing her eyebrows. "Quick! Take a picture." She struck a pose in front of a wall-length mural of the nearby crescent-shaped Kalapaki Beach.
I shuffled past the women, shifting my bag from one shoulder to the other as I struggled under its weight. Once outside, I set it down and scanned the pickup area for any sign of my aunt. I spotted her almost immediately. Rikki Kalua was my dad's baby sister, and at forty-seven, she was only twenty years my senior. Though petite in size, her style was larger than life. When I'd last seen Rikki on her visit to Atlanta three Christmases ago, her raven hair had grown down to her waist. She'd since shortened it to shoulder-length and added electric blue highlights. The wacky hair, paired with a deep magenta maxi dress, made her stand out even in a crowd of flowery prints and aloha shirts.
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