"I assume he must have a dining companion," Poncho said. "The man is a skinflint and disgusting on so many levels. You should have heard Terry on the phone, kissing up to the jerk. It was pathetic. I would never stoop so low. He even apologized to Cremshaw for your behavior, Carrie."
An electric jolt shot through me. "Me? What did I do? I was pleasant to the man." And God knows it hadn't been easy.
He shrugged. "Who knows? He probably made something up to tell Terry."
Before Poncho could say anything further, we heard footsteps on the stairs. Terry strode past us and examined the food. "Is everything ready to go, Poncho?"
Poncho nodded. "Carrie will take the food over now."
Terry turned and glared at me, his eyes menacing. "You roll the cart into the suite and then you leave. Do not say anything else to the man except 'Enjoy your food.' No small talk. Understand? Tell him to leave the cart in the hallway when he is finished. This is crucial to our restaurant, so if you'd like to keep working here, please do as I say."
His words stung like an angry wasp. I swallowed hard, afraid to say something I'd regret later. Why did this man dislike me so much? Because I was dating his son?
"Certainly."
He grunted something unintelligible and then stormed back up the stairs. Vivian and Poncho both stared at me with open mouths. Yes, the man could render a room speechless.
Poncho scratched his head thoughtfully. "Gee, I hope he comes around before the wedding. That would make family dinners awkward."
"Very funny." I picked up the order page, which had the room number printed on it. "Well, excuse me, but it's Hi ho, hi ho, off to serve I go."
I wheeled the cart out into the lobby and rang for the elevator. I debated briefly if I should tell Keanu about his father's attitude and then decided against it. I didn't want to cause a rift between him and his parents.
I boarded the elevator, pressed floor 3, and exhaled a shaky, deep breath. Keanu was downstairs in the main conference room. I didn't know how long the meeting would last but hoped he would be back at the café before long.
On the third floor, I went past the grouping of rattan furniture by the elevator and pushed the cart down the hall toward suite 303. I knocked on the door, and it was immediately opened by Mr. Arrogance himself.
Randolph stepped back so that I could roll the cart inside. He was dressed in a dingy white undershirt and black slacks that dragged on the floor, his long, narrow bare feet poking out from underneath. I tried hard not to stare at the crusted-over toenails that screamed fungus at me.
"Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly."
Yikes. For some reason, the word icky popped into my head. "Please enjoy your breakfast, sir. You can place the cart in the hallway when you're done, and one of our staff will pick it up later."
I began to walk away, and he grabbed me by the wrist. "Not so fast."
Startled by his action, I shook myself loose. "Don't touch me again."
"Sorry." Randolph gave a small smirk that said he was anything but sorry. He looked me up and down. "I'd like you to wait a moment until I'm sure the meal is to my liking."
I had news for this man—no meal was ever going to be to his liking. He lifted the covers off the plates one by one, examining the food while he grunted in apparent satisfaction. Finally, he picked up the white coffee carafe, poured himself a cup, and sniffed. Like the other day at the café, he took a small sip, grimaced, then shook his head at me. "Not quite, doll."
"Sir?" I was confused. Poncho had used his precious Kona beans this time, so what could be the problem?
"It's cold. Bring me another carafe right away."
I couldn't believe my ears. Anger bubbled at the surface and threatened to boil over any second. What I really wanted to do was throw the entire carafe in his face, but then I'd be out of a job and, knowing Randolph, looking at a lawsuit.
"Is there a problem, dear?"
The man clearly enjoyed the fact that he was goading me, but I was determined not to let him get under my skin. "No, sir. I'll be back in a few minutes."
"Text Chef Paunch ahead of time," Randolph taunted, "so that the coffee will be ready when you get back. That's a good little girl."
I bit into my lower lip to temper my reply. "His name is Poncho."
"Whatever. He's got quite the paunch on him, so my name fits. And do hurry up. I haven't got all day." He sat down and started to eat, dismissing me with a wave of his hand.
Could the man be any more pretentious? I counted to ten and compressed my lips together, afraid a nasty comment might slip out between them. As I started toward the door, I spotted two half-filled mimosa glasses sitting on the table on the balcony. I wondered if good old Randy might have had a girl over last night—or perhaps his estranged wife had joined him.
"Are you deaf?" Randolph bellowed. "I want my coffee—now!"
With great effort, I opened the door to the suite and managed to refrain from slamming it behind me. On my way back down the hallway toward the elevator, I grabbed my phone out of my jeans pocket. My fingers flew as I texted Vivian.
Tell Poncho that the jerk said the coffee's not hot enough. Have a new carafe ready to go when I get back. It's a wonder no one has killed this guy yet.
When I arrived back at the restaurant, the coffee wasn't quite ready, so I waited by the entrance in the lobby until Vivian brought it out. I didn't want Terry to see me. This carafe was so hot that the heat radiated through it, despite the potholder she'd wrapped around the handle so I wouldn't burn myself.
"Try not to throw it in his face," Vivian cautioned, as if she could read my thoughts. "Do you want me to take it over for you instead?"
"No thanks. If I don't come back, Randolph will know he's gotten to me, and I won't feed his ego. Is Keanu back yet?" Sometimes he stopped back over at the café if there was a lunch break during the meeting.
She grinned and shook her head. "No, I haven't seen lover boy. Why don't you text him?"
"I doubt Keanu would stare at his phone during a meeting. He's not the type. Oh well, since we're slow, maybe I'll treat myself to a little walk on the way back and soak up a little of the Hawaiian sun while I have a chance."
"Meet Carrie Jorgenson, who always finds the positive in a totally crappy situation," Vivian teased. "Good luck."
I hurried back toward the lobby and the elevator. I managed to make it back to his room in less than fifteen minutes. I will not insult the man. I will not insult the man. This would hopefully be the last time I ever had to lay eyes on Randolph Cremshaw again. Like Vivian said, I always did try to seek the good in a bad situation.
As I knocked on suite 303, I noticed that the door was slightly ajar. I waited for a response, not wanting to enter and, with my luck, see the man naked this time. Ew. That was a sight that would surely have haunted me forever. At that moment I heard a weird gasping type of sound and pushed the door open. "Mr. Cremshaw?"
When I stared at the sight before me, my hands flew to my face and the coffee carafe went crashing to the floor. The pain didn't even register as the hot liquid rose upward and spewed all over my bare arms.
Randolph was lying on his back on the plush, carpeted floor. His entire body convulsed as he thrashed around, unable to speak. He clutched at his throat, and there was foam coming out of his mouth. The expression on his face was pure terror as he looked at me. His mouth opened wide, and he emitted a long, continuous wheezing sound.
"Ohmigod!" I screamed and knelt beside him on the floor. He must have had some type of attack. Maybe he was diabetic? Shaking almost as badly as Randolph, I reached into my jeans pocket for my phone and dialed 9-1-1. The call was answered immediately.
"9-1-1, what is your emergency?" A brisk female voice asked.
"Please help." I struggled to keep my voice calm. "I'm in suite 303 of the Aloha Lagoon Resort with a man who's having breathing problems."
"Is he choking, ma'am? Do you know CPR?"
I stared down at Randolp
h. "Are you choking?"
The wheezing noise had stopped and Randolph was still, his open but unseeing eyes focused on the ceiling. A chill rolled through my body as I reached out to check his pulse.
"Oh God." I whimpered like a frightened child.
"Is he conscious, ma'am?" The operator wanted to know. "Can he speak at all?"
Terror enveloped me as realization quickly set in. This couldn't be happening. No. Not again. Please, no.
"Ma'am?" The operator spoke again. "I asked if the man was conscious."
I rested Randolph's hand gently on the carpet and whispered into the phone. "No. He's dead."
CHAPTER FOUR
"Well, well. We meet again, Miss Jorgenson."
At the sound of the familiar voice, my body stiffened. I glanced up from the floor where I was sitting outside of Randolph's suite. An EMT was attending to my burned arms while another technician and a police officer were inside the room with Randolph's body, presumably waiting for the coroner to arrive.
"Hello, Detective Ray." My voice sounded hoarse.
Detective Ray Kahoalani and I had first become acquainted a few months ago when I'd found Hale's dead body one night after work. According to recent rumors, it seemed that Aloha Lagoon had a bit higher of a homicide rate than most towns in Hawaii. Still, I doubted that anyone on the island had the misfortune of finding as many dead bodies as me.
From what I knew of Detective Ray, he was a native islander. He had a round tanned face with dark hair that had started to turn gray at the ends. His intelligent brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked down at me with a sympathetic smile. As usual, he was dressed in his standard uniform that consisted of Hawaiian shirt and khaki trousers. I'd lost count of how many Hawaiian shirts the man owned, but this particular one was yellow with large blue flowers on it. Ray was one of those people who blended well into crowds with no outstanding characteristics. Perhaps that was why he chose to become a detective.
I didn't know Ray's exact age but speculated that he was in his late forties or so, probably close to Poncho's. The good detective was looking a bit haggard today. Perhaps those rumors of the island's shrinking population were true after all.
Detective Ray addressed the technician, who was busy placing a bandage on each of my upper arms. "How she's doing? Should she go to the hospital?"
The technician closed his medical bag and rose to his feet. "The lady certainly can if she wants, but I think she'll be fine. Fortunately, they're only first-degree burns." He smiled at me. "Would you like us to bring you over?"
I shook my head. "No, thank you. I'm supposed to perform in a show at the Hana Hou Theater tonight. There's no reason I can't, right?"
The EMT gave me a wry grin. "The show must go on, right? Is your costume long sleeved by chance?"
Thank goodness for circa 18th-century dresses. "Yes. I'm in Little Women, the Musical." There had been a lot of advertising for the show in the Aloha Sun newspaper recently, so I thought he might have heard about it.
"Oh yeah." The technician snapped his fingers. "Good luck. My girlfriend's going to see it with her sister next weekend. Just be careful. If the pain gets worse, make sure you call your doctor or go to the emergency room."
I thanked him and continued to sit there without moving, sensing what was coming next. My entire body was numb, and I wondered if I might be experiencing some degree of shock.
Detective Ray extended his hand to help me up then led me over to the rattan couch located near the elevator. "I need to ask you some questions, Miss Jorgenson, if you're feeling up to it."
I wasn't, but knew he'd ask anyway. "Of course."
The elevator pinged at that moment, and an attractive-looking woman started in the direction of Randolph's room then stopped when she saw Detective Ray. Rachel Wein was the assistant manager of the Aloha Lagoon Resort and a few years older than me. She had long chestnut hair and was very petite-like, even with the four-inch heels that adorned her tiny feet. I didn't know Rachel personally, but Keanu had introduced me to her once when she'd stopped by the café.
"Oh, Detective Ray, I just heard what happened." The woman hesitated when she saw me watching her then stared in confusion at my bandaged arms. "Is everything all right?"
Detective Ray gave a curt nod. "Rachel, do you know Carrie?"
I wasn't sure if she'd remember me, but her gaze traveled down my face to the coffee-stained Loco Moco T-shirt, which must have helped jar her memory. She smiled warmly. "Of course. You're one of the servers at the Loco Moco." Her eyes widened suddenly. "Did you find Mr. Cremshaw?"
I nodded mutely.
Rachel moved to stand beside me and took my trembling hand between both of her warm ones. "Is there anything I can do to help? Shall I call the Loco Moco for you?"
The thought of Terry running over here, red-faced and screaming while he asked how I had managed to kill Randolph, didn't hold much appeal. Yes, I needed to notify the café because they'd be wondering what had happened to me. Plus, Vivian was the only other server currently on duty. But there was someone else that I needed to see first—the one person I'd come to depend on in the last couple of months.
My throat was parched, and I longed for a glass of water. "Do you happen to know if the board of directors meeting for AKT Markets is still going on in the conference room downstairs?"
Rachel nodded. "Yes, they have the room reserved until five o'clock. Is there someone in there you'd like me to locate for you?"
A sense of renewed hope filled me. I had texted Keanu a few minutes ago, but he hadn't responded. I knew it had been a long shot. He would give the meeting and its speakers his full attention and probably not even look at his phone during the entire session. "Yes, please. My boyfriend, Keanu Church, is in that meeting. Would you mind asking him to come up?"
"Oh, of course." Rachel flashed me a genuine smile, and I instantly warmed to her. "I know Keanu. I'll go find him right now."
"Thank you so much." Gratefully, I leaned back against the floral cushions and closed my eyes.
Detective Ray cleared his throat. "So you're dating Keanu now? You did seem quite chummy the last time I saw you both together. It was right after he'd saved your life, I believe."
"Yes, we're very chummy these days." My tone sounded snarky, but I didn't really care. I'd been here and done this all before—the entire questioning routine. My arms ached from the burns, and all I wanted was for Keanu to hold me in his muscular ones and tell me that everything would be okay.
"Don't his parents own the Loco Moco now? The restaurant you're employed at?" Detective Ray made notes on his pad.
What was he getting at? "Yes." I hoped Ray wasn't about to offer us dating advice. There was always Cosmopolitan if I was really desperate.
"So, this makes body number two for you, Miss Jorgenson. You seem to have a knack for stumbling upon them."
That was the understatement of the year. What was it with this island and dead bodies anyhow? I definitely wasn't feeling the aloha spirit.
"How about we start with you telling me what you were doing delivering food to Mr. Cremshaw?" Detective Ray asked. "Last I knew, the Loco Moco didn't provide room service."
I placed my hands in my lap and stared down at them. "Mr. Cremshaw is—was—a food critic. He came to the restaurant on Thursday, but not to review." I debated about how much to tell the detective, then realized how incriminating this all looked for the Loco Moco, and me. "He—uh, had a bad experience and said some unpleasant things about the restaurant on his blog."
Detective Ray jotted down some notes while I cursed my ability to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Did Mr. and Mrs. Church ask you to bring food over to try to make amends?" he asked.
"Something like that." The man was relentless in his questioning.
"Did Mr. Cremshaw say he would revise the blog if you provided a meal? Or was he looking for something else?"
Like what? "I don't understand."
Thankful
ly, the elevator dinged again and Keanu emerged. My heart leapt and surged with pride when I noticed how handsome he looked in a lightweight navy fabric suit that brought out the magnificent color of his eyes. I had never seen him dressed up before. Of course, he looked great in anything, but…Oh for crying out loud. Focus, Carrie. Focus. You just saw a man die.
Keanu's worried gaze met mine, and he rushed over to us. "Carrie!" Ignoring the suit, he dropped to one knee in front of me as his expensive Italian black loafers scraped across the rug. If he'd proposed at that moment, it would have been very difficult for me to say no.
His gaze traveled down to the bandages on my arms. "What the hell happened? Who hurt you?"
I caressed his cheek with my fingers and smiled. "It's fine. I got burned with some hot coffee, that's all. Sound familiar?"
On my second day of employment at the Loco Moco, I had accidentally spilled hot coffee all over Keanu's arm. He'd been a great sport about it, and the episode had become a standing joke between the two of us, but he wasn't laughing now.
A muscle ticked in Keanu's jaw, and his voice was stern. "I asked who hurt you."
Detective Ray reached his hand across me to shake Keanu's. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Church."
Keanu cut his eyes to the detective, as if seeing him for the very first time. "Hello, Ray. Can someone please tell me what's going on here?"
I squeezed his hand in earnest. "I brought a cart of food over here for Mr. Cremshaw. He complained that the coffee wasn't hot enough, so I went back to the Loco Moco to get him another carafe. When I returned, he was lying on the floor, having convulsions." I stopped to try to collect my bearings as the unpleasant vision rolled through my head again. "He died while I called 9-1-1."
Keanu muttered an expletive under his breath. "I can't believe this is happening to you again!"
Yeah, join the club. "When I saw him lying on the floor, I guess I dropped the carafe, and some of the coffee spilled on my arms. I really don't even remember it happening."
Detective Ray jotted more notes down on his pad. "So the door to the room was unlocked the second time you came back?"
Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Boxed Set Volume III (Books 7-9) Page 43