Noa reluctantly pulled away as the last sparks faded away overhead, and the crowd around us began to disperse. "That ended too fast," he said breathlessly.
A sly smile curved my lips. "In that case, come with me." I rose to my feet and dusted the sand off my knees before grabbing Noa by the hand. "Let's go home and make some fireworks of our own."
* * * * *
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
USA Today bestselling author Anne Marie Stoddard used to work in radio, and it rocked! After studying Music Business at the University of Georgia, Anne Marie worked for several music venues, radio stations, and large festivals before trading in her backstage pass for a pen and paper (Okay, so she might have kept the pass...). Her debut novel, Murder at Castle Rock, was the winner of the 2012 AJC Decatur Book Festival & BookLogix Publishing Services, Inc. Writing Contest, and the 2013 Book Junkie's Choice Award Winner for Best Debut Fiction Novel. It was also a finalist for Best Mystery/Thriller in the 2014 RONE Awards.
Aside from all things music and books, Anne Marie loves college football, Starbucks iced coffee, red wine, and anything pumpkin-flavored. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and the Sisters in Crime Guppies chapter. Anne Marie is currently hard at work on several books.
To learn more about Anne Marie, visit her online at: http://amstoddardbooks.com/
* * * * *
BOOKS BY ANNE MARIE STODDARD
Aloha Lagoon Mysteries:
Bikinis & Bloodshed
Handbags & Homicide
Tiaras & Terror
Hollywood Headlines Mysteries:
Hollywood Homicide
* * * * *
DEATH OF THE KONA MAN
by
CATHERINE BRUNS
* * * * *
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you to retired Troy police captain Terrance Buchanan for again sharing his wealth of information and never tiring of the questions I ask! Judy Melinek, MD, forensic pathologist, was gracious enough to provide much needed assistance in the medical field. Much love to beta readers Constance Atwater and Kathy Kennedy, who are always there to provide honest and necessary feedback. Special gratitude to Kim Davis and Amy Reger for sharing their delicious original recipes. Thank you to my wonderful husband, Frank, for always believing in me. Last but not least, heartfelt appreciation to publisher Gemma Halliday and her editorial staff for all that they do.
* * * * *
CHAPTER ONE
"Don't cry, Jo." I placed my hand on the girl's shoulder as she turned her face away, not wanting me to see her tears. "Please don't cry for me."
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm not crying for you, darling."
I stooped down in front of her until our gazes were level with one another. "It's no use, Rose. I know. Please don't tell—um, oh crap!"
I stomped my foot in frustration. "I don't believe this!" This was the third time in less than a week that I had botched the names. I should have said Jo instead of calling her by her actual name.
"Nice going." Rose Fields, the blonde starlet who portrayed my sister Jo March, smirked as she called out to the man in the audience. "Jeff, she did it again!"
Jeff Temple, director of Little Women, the Musical that we were rehearsing for, was seated in the front row, cross-legged, watching our scene play out in front of him. I swear he rolled his eyes at me before he leaned over to say something to his assistant, Gary Stewart, seated at his left. Jeff rose to his six-foot-two-inch height and slowly strode to the edge of the stage.
He was powerfully built, with dark hair in a buzz cut and hazel eyes. In his early forties, Jeff was a good-looking guy, and I'd heard rumors—mostly from my friend Tad, the assistant stage manager—that Rose had unsuccessfully tried to get him to go out with her. I wasn't sure if this was a ploy to butter him up, but it was possible that she really liked him.
Jeff's mouth was tight and drawn as he stared at me. A fantastic director, he could envision scenes in a remarkable way, but wasn't a very patient man. Then again, I'd never heard of any director that had a great deal of tolerance. It was only yesterday that he had shouted at all of us and declared that trained monkeys could have performed better. Hey, it was all part of the business.
"Carrie." His tone was serious as he pointed at Rose, who placed a hand over her giggling mouth. "Let's try this again. Which character is Rose portraying?"
I sighed heavily. "Jo."
"Very good." Jeff didn't even attempt to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "When you are on stage, she is no longer Rose and you are no longer Carrie. The basics of Acting 101 at work. Try to remember that tomorrow night, please. Which happens to be opening night. Oh, and did I mention that we're sold out?"
Yeah, only about five hundred times already.
Jeff's eyes met mine, and a slow grin spread across his face. Sure, he was annoyed, but it looked like he wasn't going to start screaming at me, much to my relief. I couldn't blame the man for being ticked off. There was no excuse for my calling the wrong name. Once yes, but three times?
He stepped onto the stage and checked his watch. "Okay, guys, that's enough for one day. Everyone out front, please."
The rest of the cast appeared from backstage and gathered around Jeff like he was the Pied Piper. My good friend Tad Emerson hurried over to me.
"Don't worry about it, love," he whispered in encouragement. "They say that if you botch the rehearsal, that means the actual performance will go smoothly."
Tad had been a godsend for me ever since I'd moved to Hawaii a few months ago. He was a flamboyant type of guy, with hair dyed the color of silver and green catlike eyes that refused to miss anything. He was a delivery person for Lovely Linens, which serviced the Loco Moco Café, the restaurant I worked at.
"I hope you're right," I said. "Time's running out."
Jeff cleared his throat and counted off heads before he continued speaking. "Thanks for accommodating me today with my last-minute request for an early rehearsal. I know that most of you have jobs, so it was quite an inconvenience. Tomorrow night, as we all know, is opening night, so please be here by six o'clock sharp at the latest. The same for Saturday and then by noon on Sunday for the matinee. Any questions?"
Gary raised a hand. Although Jeff was good at his job he was also very demanding and quite relentless, so much so that his former assistant had up and quit last week when Jeff repeatedly had sent him out for coffee. Gary was in his early twenties and a communications major at a local community college. His easygoing, mild-mannered attitude made him a perfect match for Jeff.
"I'm still missing bios for a few people," Gary announced. "The production staff needs them this afternoon, or you won't be in the program. It's as simple as that. Rose and Carrie, I hope you have them handy."
Rose nodded. "Sorry about that, Gary. Mine's backstage in my purse. I'll go grab it." She tossed her head and disappeared behind the curtain.
Puzzled, I stared at Gary. "I handed mine in over a week ago."
Gary shrugged his shoulders. "Molly must have misplaced it. Sorry, Carrie." He handed me a sheet of paper. "Can you fill out another one now?"
"Sure." I wasn't going to make a big deal about it. The staff was doing the best they could to accommodate us. Most of the proceeds from the ticket sales went to pay for costumes, stage equipment, and various other theater-related items. No one received a paid salary except for Jeff, of course, and Molly, his part-time secretary, whose pay was probably more dismal than mine as a server.
Molly already had her hands full with the program, costumes, and actors' attitudes, namely Rose's. Rose seemed to think that as the lead, she was entitled to more attention than the rest of us and always had something to complain about. My costume had arrived in a size smaller than I usually wore, and the gingham dress was so restricting that it felt like an actual corset. I had chosen not to say anything and instead, had given it to my friend Vivian, an excellent seamstress, to fix rather than bother Molly. Cripes, this was only a community theater
, and we all needed to make some sacrifices.
Jeff clapped his hands together. "Okay, guys, enjoy the rest of your day. By the way, I'm happy to announce that Saturday's performance is also sold out. Who knew that Louisa May Alcott was so popular in Hawaii?"
Everyone whooped and hollered while Tad placed his lips next to my ear. "I bet word has gotten out about Jeff's friend coming to town."
There had been a lot of gossip flying around regarding a Hollywood director who was coming to see our show. He was a good friend of Jeff's, but no one seemed to know exactly who he was or when the mystery man was destined to arrive. An extra weekend had been added to the performance schedule for his convenience. Of course, every actress in the show fantasized about this man whisking her away to Hollywood, but I tried to take a more realistic approach. The chances were probably one in a million at best that he would find his next starlet at the Hana Hou Theater in Kauai.
Tad followed me down the stairs into the empty audience as I shot off a quick text to my boyfriend. I sat down and started to complete my bio as he stretched out lazily in the seat beside me.
"Where are you off to now?"
I looked up from the form. "To the Loco Moco. I was originally scheduled for the morning shift, but they switched me to two o'clock until closing because of the last-minute rehearsal."
Tad dangled his car keys. "I'm on my way to work too. Need a lift, love?"
"Thanks, but I just texted Keanu. He's on his way."
"Ooh, the K-man's coming for his woman," Tad cooed. "So romantic. How long have you guys been dating? And when you tell him to jump, does he ask how high?"
"Stop." I laughed. "It's not like that at all, and you know it. He's working the same shift as me today. Since rehearsal ended a little early, we might even have time for a quick lunch before we head over to the Loco Moco."
"Or maybe a make-out session instead," Tad teased. "You two always look like a couple of lovesick puppies when you're together."
Even though Keanu and I had been dating for almost three months, my heart still gave a little jolt whenever his name was mentioned. The awkward part of this situation was that Keanu Church was technically my boss. His parents, Terry and Ava Church, had bought the Loco Moco Café after the former owner was murdered. This happened right after I'd started working at the restaurant—in fact, I had been the one to discover Hale Akamu's lifeless body. With all the employees under suspicion, Keanu and I had joined forces to find the killer. The experience had drawn us closer, and we'd been inseparable ever since.
I waved my hand at Tad. "Let me finish my bio. I can't think with you jabbering like that. Will I see you at the café later?"
Tad shook his head. "I dropped off linens this morning before rehearsal." He blew me a kiss. "Until tomorrow, Miss Beth March. Tell Rose—oops, I mean Keanu that I said hello."
"Wise guy." I grinned as he made his way down the aisle and out the rear of the theater. There wasn't much to list on my bio, except for a few parts I'd had in high school. I thanked Keanu for his support and put down my pen. Sadly, there was no one else to thank. Most people mentioned how grateful they were to their families, but I had none to speak of.
About four months ago, I had followed my then boyfriend Brad to Hawaii in an effort to save our floundering relationship and escape my miserable home life in Vermont. My mother had ignored me for most of my life, and my older sister, Penny, joined forces with her, thus making me feel like an intruder in my own home. My father left us when I was only four years old. I had no idea where he was now or if he was even alive, for that matter. Thankfully, I had Keanu, but there was still a hole in my heart that might never be filled.
Jeff and Gary were still up on stage talking. I walked over and waited politely for them to finish before I spoke.
Gary leaned down to take the paper from my hands. "Thanks. I promise it won't get lost this time."
"Good." I smiled. "I'm an actress, not a writer, so hopefully they'll give it a good edit too."
The door at the rear of the theater opened, and Jeff glanced over in its direction. A broad smile crossed his face as he jumped off the stage and strode quickly up the aisle. "I'll be damned. Howie, you're early!"
I saw Jeff shake hands with a man about his age. He had short reddish-brown hair, and wore horn-rimmed glasses over a thin, angular face. His inquisitive brown eyes scanned the inside of the theater with obvious satisfaction.
"Temple, the place looks great. How's everything on the financial front?"
Jeff wiggled his hand back and forth. "Ask me after this weekend. I still need some investors. Interested?"
"Maybe," Howie replied. "Let's have lunch tomorrow and discuss it. My treat."
They both chatted on while I continued to watch in fascination. Gary jumped off the stage and came to stand next to me. "Do you know who that is?"
I shook my head. "No idea."
"Howard Livingston," Gary's voice sounded star-struck. "He's a Hollywood director and an old buddy of Jeff's. Jeff knew he was flying in today, which is why he upped the time for the dress rehearsal."
My jaw almost hit the floor. "He's the one? I mean, the one that—" I didn't want to mention the rumor, but Gary must have known the director's impending arrival was all that the cast had talked about for weeks.
He nodded. "Yep. He's the one everybody's been having fits about." He gave me a slight nudge forward. "Why don't you go do your 'It's no use, Rose' line for him and see what he says?"
Cripes, no one would let this go. "Real nice, Gary."
Howard glanced over at us curiously, and Jeff turned to see what he was staring at. He then gestured toward Gary. "Come on. I'll introduce you to my assistant."
Butterflies danced in my stomach as they came closer. Howard looked right at me and smiled pleasantly. Oh my God.
"Gary Stewart, this is Howard Livingston," Jeff announced. "Or perhaps I should say, the one and only Howard Livingston."
Gary extended his hand. "It's a real honor, sir."
Howie clasped Gary's hand in his. "Call me Howie. Everyone does." His gaze traveled back to me. "Is this lovely lady your girlfriend?"
Gary turned about ten different shades of red. "No, sir. This is Carrie Jorgenson. She's one of the actresses in Little Women."
Howie examined my face with interest. It wasn't a creepy nature—more typical of a man who enjoyed people watching for a living. He reached for my hand. "Miss Jo March, I presume?"
I flushed with pride. "No, I'm playing Beth. It's nice to meet you, sir."
He nodded. "The role suits you. Delicate, pretty. Jo's a tomboy, not as easy on the eyes, like you. I'm looking forward to your performance, Miss Jorgenson."
My heart pounded away so loudly in my chest that I was positive he could hear. "Thank you so much."
Howie nudged Jeff. "You'll never guess who I sat next to on the plane. No, wait. Let me put it another way. You will never guess whose voice I had to endure all the way from California. Six hours of pure torture."
Jeff frowned. "We know a lot of people who would fit that bill."
I laughed out loud at the remark, and they both stared at me. Oops. Nice move, Care.
Howie blew out an exasperated sigh. "It was the one and only Cremshaw. I swear I thought I might go deaf."
"You've got to be kidding." Jeff shook his head. "What the hell is he doing here? He was just in town a few months ago."
Howie shrugged. "Besides annoying us, you mean? It seems that Mr. Cremshaw refuses to leave paradise for long. Plus, there's rumors he's about to divorce his wife. If I know good old Randy, he's here to try to ruin someone else's restaurant and livelihood."
Jeff's expression was grim. "Well, I feel sorry for the next poor bastard he's about to descend upon."
"What does he do?" I asked with interest and then too late, remembered the conversation didn't concern me. Embarrassed, I covered my mouth. "Sorry, that's none of my business."
Howie grinned. "I like inquisitive actors. Randolph Cremsh
aw—I call him Randy, by the way, because he hates the name—is one of the most renowned food critics in the world. You're probably too young to remember the movie critics Siskel and Ebert?"
"I've heard of them," I admitted.
Howie checked an incoming message on his phone before he continued. "Our buddy Randy is to food what those two were to movies. People think his word is God. Even worse? Randy thinks he's God."
"Sounds like a great guy," Gary mumbled.
"Where's he staying?" Jeff wanted to know. "Please tell me not in Kauai."
Howie placed his phone back in his pocket and gave Jeff a thumbs-up. "You win the pool. As a matter of fact, he's at the same resort as me—Aloha Lagoon. I must have done something bad in a previous life to deserve this."
Holy cow. Aloha Lagoon was where I worked. "Oh wow. I work in one of their restaurants. I hope he won't be dropping by." Poncho, our chef, would literally have a cow. Okay, perhaps pig was a more appropriate term, but either way, the visit was certain to cause some stress.
Jeff snickered. "The Loco Moco has been around for a long time, Carrie. Chances are he's already tortured them with his presence."
The back door of the theater opened again, and my boyfriend, Keanu, stood in the doorway. When he caught sight of me, he waved but made no move to approach us. I assumed he didn't want to interrupt our conversation, but I beckoned for him to come forward anyway.
Jeff raised a hand in greeting. "Hey, Keanu. How's it going?"
"Never better." Keanu's eyes searched mine.
My cheeks grew hot. "Mr. Livingston, this is my boyfriend, Keanu Church. Keanu, Mr. Livingston is a director from Hollywood."
Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Boxed Set Volume III (Books 7-9) Page 40