Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Boxed Set Volume III (Books 7-9)

by Leslie Langtry

  Jamie waved her hand in the air to get our server's attention. "Born in Savannah, Georgia, but I lived in Panama City for a while," she told me. "I moved to Kauai a couple of years ago to take the scuba instructor job. I love it here."

  I nodded. "Aloha Lagoon is a great place to live," I agreed. Jamie seemed like a real sweetheart. Having her around for the night wouldn't be so bad, and maybe Noa's other friend would be just as nice.

  The young woman with the ukulele left the stage to a burst of applause, and she was replaced by a young man carrying a guitar and a harmonica. Noa glanced toward the entrance again as the performer began his song. He grinned. "Ah, there she is. Now we're all here."

  I looked to the left, and my stomach flip-flopped as I spied the bombshell brunette strutting toward us from across the bar. It was Harmony Kane.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I felt the blood drain from my face. Noa had to be joking—he couldn't have invited Harmony to hang out with us. She hadn't shown him quite the same level of animosity as she had me when we were younger, but being my best friend hadn't exactly scored him any cool points. That, and Noa had suffered through the terrible odor in my car alongside me after the jellyfish incident. He'd hated Harmony Kane just as much as I had. The idea of Noa cozying up to the Wicked Witch of the Pacific East was absurd. There was no way he'd ever give her the time of day after she'd treated us like pariahs growing up. Right?

  "Noa!" Harmony called, wiggling her fingers in a flirty wave.

  She was wearing a low-cut purple top and a black skirt so short that it left little to the imagination. Her dark eyes locked on Noa like he was the last pair of size seven boots at a Nordstrom sale.

  "Hey, gorgeous," she gushed, sliding into the booth beside him. "Sorry I'm late. I had to close the shop tonight." She lowered her eyelids to half-mast and gave him a seductive smile.

  He set down his beer. "Hey, Harm," he said. "Can I buy you a drink?"

  I nearly spat out the sip of daiquiri I'd just taken. He's offering to buy her a drink? What the hell is going on here?

  "Sure," she replied. "I'll take a Blue Hawaiian. Thanks, doll." Harmony winked at him and then sent her gaze across the booth. She said hello to Jamie before glancing my way. "Oh. Hey, Kaley. Are you performing tonight?" She sneered. "I hope your dance skills have improved since junior high."

  I opened my mouth to retort, but it was drowned out by applause as the latest singer finished his song and took a bow. The host returned to the microphone to announce another performer. Though I couldn't get past the fact that Noa and Harmony suddenly seemed chummy after years of burning hatred, I sat up straighter, craning my neck for a better look at the stage. I had to keep in mind the reason why I was at the bar in the first place. Maybe Marco is next. My hopes were dashed a moment later when the MC introduced another young female musician.

  Three more performers came and went, and still there was no sign of Marco. I was starting to wonder if Louana's boyfriend would even show. As we watched the musicians, I kept sneaking glances across the table at Harmony and Noa. The way she was draping her arm over his shoulder made my stomach sour. Why hadn't he told me he was inviting her? Or that they were suddenly friends—or possibly something more? I just couldn't believe he'd stoop so low.

  The latest musician strummed his last chord and took a bow. The MC returned to the stage. "Mahalo, Esteban." He shook the other man's hand and then turned to grin at the crowd. "We have one more performer tonight. He's one of our regulars and last week's Beachcomber's Open Mic Champion."

  My head snapped up. Marco?

  "Put your hands together for Marco Rossini!"

  Yes! I let out a cheer, which blended with the whistles and shouts from around the bar. Finally. I leaned forward and propped my elbows on the table, my gaze fixed intently on the stage. A man in his mid-twenties strode onto the platform, carrying an acoustic guitar. His curly black hair fell over his eyes, and he lifted his free hand to brush the strands aside before picking up the microphone. "Aloha. How's everyone doing tonight?" he asked, flashing a dimpled grin to the crowd.

  "He's cute," Jamie remarked. She'd get no argument from me. I couldn't help but wonder what a gorgeous guy like that had been doing with someone as cruel and controlling as Louana.

  I studied Marco as he took a seat on the stool and strummed a few chords on the guitar, smiling to himself. If he was grief-stricken over Lou, he was good at hiding it. "Tonight I'll be covering one of my favorites," he said into the microphone. "I hope you enjoy it." He launched into a beautiful rendition of Elvis Presley's "Blue Hawaii." The crowd was instantly spellbound—including me. Marco had a beautiful voice and a captivating stage presence. It was no wonder he'd won the last open mic competition. He was an excellent performer.

  "I just love this song." Harmony's flirtatious tone was all it took to break the spell for me.

  I glanced across the booth to find her stroking Noa's arm and fluttering her too-curly-to-be-real lashes at him. The sight made me queasy. I'd wanted to give Noa the benefit of the doubt that he hadn't invited two beautiful women to join us as a way to make me jealous—but considering one of them was Harmony Kane, it certainly seemed deliberate. Dating the woman who had made my life a living hell was a surefire way for Noa to hurt me, and he knew it. But then again, Noa had never been the vengeful type. I swallowed. What if he actually has feelings for her? The idea was unbearable.

  I tried my best to brush the thought aside. Who Noa chose to date shouldn't be any of my concern—even if she was the spawn of Satan in a miniskirt. Focus on the real reason you're here, Kaley. I gave myself a mental shake—and without meaning to, a physical one as well. My elbow jerked, bumping my pineapple daiquiri. Before I could catch it, the drink tipped over. A stream of yellow booze ran toward the edge of the table and spilled over the side, staining Harmony's shirt. She gave a startled cry of surprise and disentangled herself from Noa as she clambered out of the booth.

  "Kaley, you idiot!" she fumed. A few heads turned toward us. Even Marco glanced our way from on stage, though he continued to sing.

  "Sorry," I said, holding up my hands. A smirk threatened to tug at my lips as I struggled to keep a straight face. Though it had been an accident, the sight of Harmony drenched in the frozen cocktail was pretty satisfying. I shrugged. "Guess I'm still as clumsy as ever."

  Harmony glared daggers at me before turning and stalking toward the restroom.

  Marco finished his performance, and the bar patrons began to cheer and clap again. He rose from the stool and took a bow before walking off the stage. The host returned and picked up the mic. "If you want to vote for your favorite performer from this evening, your server will bring a ballot to your table. You have ten minutes to turn in your vote, and then we'll announce this week's winner. So enjoy another drink, and show tonight's contestants some love."

  Now's my chance. "I'm actually gonna run to the ladies' room, myself," I told Noa and Jamie, sliding out of the booth.

  "Want me to come too?" Jamie offered. "You might need a little backup after that drink fiasco." She shot a glance toward the bathroom door.

  "Nah. I'll be fine. You stay here and enjoy your drink," I said, gesturing to her mai tai. "And if the server brings a ballot over, cast my vote for me." I smiled at her. "I liked that Ariel chick that played first."

  Jamie bobbed her head, grinning. "Me too. She reminds me of the Little Mermaid."

  Noa's forehead wrinkled, and his lips curled in a suspicious frown. His gaze darted from me to the bar, where Marco was pulling up a stool. I hadn't told him the name of Louana's boyfriend, but Noa was a smart guy. He'd likely put two and two together when I'd climbed out of the booth as soon as Marco had left the stage. That, and he probably knew me well enough to know that I wouldn't be caught dead in that tiny dive bar bathroom alone with pissed-off Harmony Kane. She'd try to stab me with one of her stilettos.

  "I'll be right back," I promised, giving him what I hoped was a reassuring look. Though I'd brought him alo
ng as reinforcement, I figured it might be easier for me to chat up Marco if I approached him alone. And since Noa had invited Harmony the Horrible to join us on our little recon mission, I was less keen to include him in the action. He could hang back in the booth and keep Jamie and her company.

  Winding between tables, I made my way toward Marco. He was seated at the edge of the bar, leaning over as he packed his guitar into its carrying case. "That was incredible," I said, perching on the barstool next to his. I leaned forward and lowered my voice, as if I were telling him a secret. "I voted for you," I lied, winking.

  Marco looked up. "Thank you very much," he said, curling his lip in an Elvis impression. "The ladies always love it when I cover the King."

  I gave an appreciative laugh. "I'm Kaley," I said, offering him my hand. "Can I buy you a drink?"

  "Nice to meet you, Kaley. I'm Marco." He took my hand and grinned, showing his teeth. "And I never say no to free booze." Marco flagged one of the bartenders. I ordered a beer for him and another pineapple daiquiri to replace the one I'd spilled all over Harmony (totally worth it).

  While we waited for our drinks, I turned in my seat to face him. "You look familiar," I said, tilting my head and squinting at him as if trying to place where I'd seen him. "Have we met before?"

  His gaze traveled down to my legs and back up, stopping at chest level. "I'm pretty sure I'd remember meeting you."

  Ugh. Seriously? I stifled a shudder. Your girlfriend's been dead for three days, and you're already hitting on other women? What a creep. I ignored his ogling. "Wait a minute," I said, snapping my fingers. "I think I know where I've seen you. Do you work at the Aloha Lagoon Resort across town?"

  Marco nodded. "Yeah. I'm a bellhop on most weekdays, but I perform at the open mic nights here a couple nights a week." He puffed out his chest. "I won this past Saturday," he said. "They don't get a lot of real talent coming through here, so I didn't have much competition." His expression turned smug. "I was also a finalist last year in a statewide singing contest. I went up against fifty vocalists from across the islands. Maybe you saw me on TV—did you watch the latest season of Aloha Idol?" He looked at me expectantly.

  I shook my head. "I didn't see it. Sorry," I said, trying to contain my own disappointment. If Marco had performed here on Saturday night, then there would have been dozens of witnesses. I wondered if it would have been possible for him to slip out or leave early without being missed. I only knew that Louana had been murdered sometime after eight, which was when Happy Hula had closed for the evening. I wasn't sure whether or not his open mic victory could clear him of being her killer.

  "If you win, do you have to stay until the end of the competition to collect your cash prize? Or can you come back later in the week to pick it up?" I asked. When he raised a brow in question, I explained, "I'm just curious how it works. I was thinking about entering next week—if I can work up the nerve." I gave him what I hoped was a modest look. "I can't sing as well as you, of course. I doubt I'd give you a run for your money." That last part was the truth, at least.

  "Oh, I'm sure you've got a nice set of pipes," he said, his gaze hovering below my collar bone again. I cleared my throat, and his eyes snapped up. "You said you recognized me from the resort," he said, cocking his head to the side. "Do you work there too?

  I nodded. "Yeah. I just started this week, actually. I'm working at the Happy Hula Dress Boutique—it's one of the shops out in the courtyard."

  Marco's flirty smile vanished, and his expression turned cold. "Did someone put you up to this?" he asked, his voice cold.

  I kept my own face blank. "Put me up to what?"

  "I don't have time for this," he said, glowering. The bartender set Marco's beer down in front of him. "Thanks for the drink," he said gruffly. "Now leave me alone." He turned his back on me.

  Crap. I hadn't learned anything yet, and he was already stonewalling me. "I didn't mean to—" I put my hand on his shoulder, but he jerked out from under my grasp.

  "Look," he growled, cutting me off as he whipped around to face me again. "I've already talked to the cops and one reporter. So if you're another journalist or some true-crime junkie thinking you can sweet talk your way into a scoop on Lou's murder, you can step off. I don't know anything about it," he huffed.

  "No, no," I protested, holding my hands up. "You've got me all wrong. I'm not a reporter—far from it, actually." I offered him a half-smile. "In fact, I'm sick of journalists myself. I've had my fair share of bad publicity lately."

  "What for?" Marco took a sip of his beer as he eyed me, his dark brows drawn together in a look of mistrust.

  I sighed. As much as I hated talking about Bryan, it might help me win Marco over. "Are you a football fan?" I asked, grimacing.

  He blinked. "Yeah. Why?"

  "Ever heard of Bryan Colfax? He's a running back for the Atlanta Falcons."

  Marco stared at me for a moment, and then his eyes widened in what I took to be recognition. "You're that Colfax guy's wife? He's the one with the sex addiction, right?"

  "Ex-wife." I corrected him on my marital status but not the sex addiction story. If that was the angle Bryan was claiming to garner sympathy from his fans, then that was his business.

  "Wow." Marco shook his head. "I read an article about that on ESPN just a few weeks ago. Three cheerleaders at once? That man is living the dream!" He balked when he caught sight of my narrow-eyed expression. "Sorry," he muttered, his tone sheepish. "That must have been brutal. For what it's worth, I saw your picture in that article, and I've gotta say that you're way hotter in person."

  "Thanks," I said dryly. I took a sip of my own drink. "As I was saying, I know what it's like to be sick of everyone butting into your personal life."

  "Yeah. It really sucks." He shook his head. "Hell, I don't get why everyone is grilling me, anyway. It wasn't like Lou was my girlfriend."

  My brow furrowed. "She wasn't?"

  Marco rubbed a hand over his face. "No," he said tersely. "Have you ever seen that movie Wedding Crashers?"

  I blinked at him. "Uh, yeah." I wasn't sure where he was going with this.

  He clenched his jaw. "Then you'll know what it means when I say that Louana Watson was a Stage Five Clinger. The chick was nuts!" He grunted. "We hooked up, like, three or four times, and she was practically ready to send out wedding invitations. She asked me to drop by that dress shop one day, and when I got there, she tried to introduce me to everyone as her boyfriend." Marco set down his beer and raised his hands in front of him. "I told her I wasn't looking for that kind of commitment with her, and she flipped out." His expression darkened. "That's why she ruined my big break."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Lou started showing up in the lobby whenever I was working, begging me to 'give our relationship a chance.'" He used his pointer and middle fingers to make quotations in the air as he said that last part. "See what I mean? Crazy."

  "So she was stalking you," I observed.

  "Yeah." Marco nodded. "And when I warned her to stop following me around, she was pissed. So she decided to get back at me in the worst way possible." He blew out a breath. "There was a talent agent staying at the resort, Mike Comiglio. He's a big wig in the music industry—they call him the King Maker. Mike's responsible for finding some of the biggest names in pop music." Marco met my gaze, eyes wide. "And he wanted to hear me sing," he said, poking his chest with his thumb.

  "Wow. What an amazing opportunity." I was genuinely impressed.

  "Yeah, it would have been." Marco's expression turned bitter. "I invited Mike to come hear me sing at Beachcomber's on his last night on the island. I even performed one of my own original songs. But he never showed. By the time I got to the resort for work the next day, Mike had already left. I found out that Louana had stopped him in the lobby on his way to the bar. She'd told him that I had decided to perform karaoke at the Loco Moco Café that night instead. He went there looking for me, and I guess he thought I stood him up or got stage fright o
r something. Not only that, but he signed this schmuck that covered some stupid Bon Jovi song." Marco cringed. "I tried reaching out to Mike through the number on the business card he gave me, but he hasn't returned my calls." He gritted his teeth, and anger flashed behind his eyes. "Louana stole my chance at a real music career."

  I frowned. "That's awful. Do you know for sure that she was responsible though?"

  He nodded. "Lou told me she did it. She claimed it was because she didn't want me to leave her alone on the island if I landed a recording contract, but I know she was just being vindictive." Marco raised his beer. "To Loony Louana," he said sourly before chugging the rest of the drink. He set down the empty glass and looked at me with resignation. "Lesson learned—never dip your tip in crazy." He shook his head. "Man, I'd have done just about anything to get that psycho chick off my back."

  Ew. If I didn't want the information so bad, I'd have slapped him. What a total douche canoe. "Anything?" I asked, eying him with suspicion.

  Marco flinched. "Except killing her," he added quickly. "I had nothing to do with that."

  I wasn't so sure. I'd have to find out what the police considered to be the window for Lou's time of death before I wrote Marco off completely. Hearing about how she'd ruined his chance at fame—and how angry it had made him—only fueled my suspicion. "Do you have any idea who else might have wanted Louana dead?" I pressed, studying him closely for any sign of guilt.

  Something that looked like regret flashed behind Marco's eyes, and he dropped his gaze to the bar counter. "Maybe my ex," he said quietly.

  "Your ex?" I repeated.

  He gripped his empty glass and signaled to the bartender for a refill. "Lou was sort of the reason we broke up," he mumbled, not looking at me.