He must have been thinking about his sister, Kara, who had died years ago from cancer. She'd been his only sibling, and from the way he always spoke about her, it was obvious how much he'd adored her. Beth March, the character I portrayed in Little Women, was a frail girl who grew sickly from scarlet fever and never gained her strength back. She ended up dying at the end of the play. While eating up the praise, it hurt me to know how much my performance might have affected him on a personal level.
"You're thinking about Kara, aren't you?"
He didn't answer, but his sober expression told me that my assumption had been correct. I longed to kiss the pain away but instead, placed my arms around his waist. "She must have been a lovely person."
His voice was gruff as he kissed me. "It's been a long time. I should be over this by now."
"I don't think you'll ever get over it," I said honestly. And certainly his parents never would. Another thought occurred to me. "Is that why your Dad is—so—so distant?"
Keanu waited a moment before he answered. "Yeah. I figure on some level he's afraid to get too close to me because of it. Maybe he thinks he might end up losing me the same way. Kara was his little princess. Both my parents were devastated when she died, but he took it particularly hard."
"And now he's putting everything on you," I said.
My words sounded unpleasant, but Keanu smiled in understanding. "He means well, really he does. They're both worried about the blog post, and now Cremshaw's death could prove detrimental to the restaurant. Plus, there's more."
Of course there was. "What else?"
He raked an agitated hand through his hair. "The register has been coming up short the past couple of weeks. Altogether, the losses add up to a couple of thousand."
I sucked in some air. "Who do they think is responsible?" Please don't say it's me.
He tweaked my nose. "Don't go there, Carrie. You know I would never suspect you, and neither would my parents."
Well, certainly not Keanu and maybe not Ava, but Terry probably thought I was capable of stealing a homeless man's shoes. "I want to believe that."
Benny hopped up on the arm of the couch and nudged Keanu with his paw. Keanu scratched him under the chin, and Benny's purrs were so loud that they threatened to drown out our conversation. "There's nothing for you to worry about, okay? My parents know how much you mean to me. My father will come around eventually."
Terry had asked me to make sure everything went smoothly this morning. I was not supposed to speak to Randolph—just provide impeccable service. Instead, the encounter had ended with Randolph dead. Something told me that Terry wasn't about to welcome me with open arms into his family.
"I'm sure you're right," I lied, and then locked the door behind us.
CHAPTER SIX
When we arrived at the restaurant, Keanu's parents were standing outside waiting for him. Terry's eyes narrowed when he spotted me sitting in the front seat of Keanu's car.
Yeah, nice to see you too.
Ava glanced from me to her son and then husband, almost as if she expected a tornado to strike at any second. Nevertheless, she smiled pleasantly as I emerged from the car. "Carrie, are you all right? How awful that must have been for you. Please don't feel like you must come back to work. Sybil's already here."
I was touched by her concern. "I'm okay, thanks, Ava. It was just a shock to my system."
"We'd better get going," Terry said curtly to his wife. "I don't think we should keep the police waiting. There are a lot of things we need to explain. What a coincidence. The same day Cremshaw's assault on the Loco Moco hits his blog, he's found dead after our hired help delivers food to him."
Oh yeah, he definitely couldn't stand me.
Keanu frowned at his father. "Carrie shouldn't have been there in the first place, Dad."
Terry pretended not to hear his son as he opened the passenger-side door for Ava. "Let's go."
"I'll drive myself," Keanu said.
"I was hoping you'd come with us," Terry said. "There are a few things I'd like to speak with you about on the way over." He cut his eyes to me again, and I was startled by how cold they were. I shivered inwardly. Even the hot Hawaiian sun couldn't warm me now.
"We'll have to do it later. I need to get gas anyway." Keanu leaned down to kiss me, and I shrank backward in sudden panic.
"Not in front of your parents," I whispered.
He merely grinned and touched his lips against mine. "They need to get used to it. Good luck tonight, sweetheart. If you're gone before we get back, I'll pick you up after the show."
"Good luck to you." The Church family was going to need it as they went up against the inquisitive and sometimes irritating Detective Ray.
Keanu got into his Jeep, which was parked next to his parents' Mercedes. Terry gave me one last disapproving look before he got behind the wheel of his car, and they all drove away.
"I see that went well."
Vivian was standing behind me, purse slung over her shoulder. Her face was pale, but she managed a smile.
I exhaled noisily. "It's obvious that his parents adore me, isn't it? Jeez, Viv, you don't look so good."
"I'm going home," she said. "I've been lightheaded and nauseous all morning. I hope it's not that bug which has been going around. The place is dead anyway. Sybil's here, and Anna's coming in shortly as well. They'll both close tonight, so don't worry about anything." She stared in fascination at my arms. "Holy cow, are you all right? I can't believe you found Randolph dead. It's already all over Facebook that he died, and people know that the Loco Moco delivered food as some type of peace offering."
Cripes. "How did they find out?"
Vivian shrugged. "Someone at the resort must have squealed. People on social media are nicknaming us the Killer Café, Arsenic and Old Loco, you get the idea."
This was becoming a living nightmare. Okay, time to change the subject. "So Coral didn't seem sick to you?"
Vivian shook her head. "I really hope Keanu cans her butt. My guess is that she's the one who filled the dispensers with Tabasco sauce too."
I'd been thinking the same thing. "Why would you say that?"
Vivian looked at me in surprise. "Come on. She's so freaking jealous of you it's pathetic. You should have seen her face when you and Keanu walked out of here the other day, holding hands. Mark my words—if she'd had a gun, she would have used it. I'll bet she was hoping you'd be blamed for the sauce because you were the last one to fill the dispensers."
"Why would she be jealous of me? That doesn't make sense."
"Gee, no idea," Vivian mocked. "You're a lovely person, the customers adore you, and oh yeah, she seriously wants your boyfriend. No reason at all for her to be envious."
I sighed. "Viv, you'd better go straight home to bed. You're getting delirious."
"Text me later, and let me know how the show went."
"I will. Feel better."
The inside of the Loco Moco was quiet. There were two couples sitting and conversing in low tones at separate tables. The sky was overcast and the patio was completely vacant.
Sybil was waiting on one of the tables. She was twenty, and went to the local community college. Vivian and I both got along well with her. She generally didn't want too many hours but had upped her workload during the last couple of months.
Sybil spotted me and gave a small wave. I returned the gesture and then went into the kitchen, where I found Poncho muttering to himself at the stove. He looked up at me, and then his eyes immediately wandered to my bandaged arms.
"Ho'aloha, I heard what happened. Are you okay?" The concern was evident in his voice.
"Yes, thanks." I exhaled sharply. "It was a shock and caused me to spill the carafe, which then burned my arms. The coroner thinks he might have died from some type of poisoning."
"The Kona man," Poncho murmured in a theatrical tone, more to himself than me. "What if the very drink he loved was the death of him?"
His words seriously creeped me o
ut, and I watched as he removed a tray of pineapple cookies from the oven. "We don't know that the coffee was poisoned."
"But it would fit," Poncho insisted. "I just finished reading an article about him. The man was a caffeine junkie. Sometimes he would have as much as ten cups a day. And he loved his Kona coffee with a passion, which is how he got his nickname."
"Ten cups a day? No wonder he seemed so nervous and jittery."
Poncho snickered as he placed the cookies on a cooling rack. "I do not like to speak ill of the dead, but that man was a true poho."
I wrinkled my nose. "Do I even want to know what that means?"
He handed me a cookie. "Hawaiian slang. It means he was a waste of time. In my opinion, the man was a waste of precious air as well. What goes around, comes around. First off, a real food critic always pays for his meal, whether he likes it or not. And the fact that he bargained for free food with Terry is considered deplorable to the entire industry."
I took a bite from the cookie. It was still warm from the oven and moist, bursting with the juicy taste of fresh pineapple. "Oh, this is so good. But how come you're baking?" Poncho never had time to make desserts. We sent out for pies and cakes from a local bakery because he had all he could do just to manage the entrees some days.
"I will pack some up for you to take home," Poncho said. "I may have plenty of time for baking if business stays like this. Terry was acting like a lunatic this morning."
"I saw, remember?"
"Even before you came in," he continued. "He left a voicemail for Keanu when he couldn't reach him. He screamed so loud that the walls and the floor above me shook. Thank goodness we did not have customers at the time."
At that moment, I pitied my boyfriend. He hadn't mentioned the voicemail tirade, only that his father had sent several texts. Terry needed to take a lesson in patience from his son. "How long do you think Randolph's post could affect business for? Permanently?"
Poncho shrugged. "Hard to say. It might not have been so bad if Cremshaw had not up and died afterward. I have worked in establishments that received bad reviews before—well, not for me, of course." He cocked his head in a proud manner. "Within a week, the crowd was usually back to normal. The whole thing might have blown over in a few days, but his sudden death puts everything in a new light. I am certain that Detective Ray will be back to bother us again too."
"Keanu and his parents went down to the police station to talk to him. Ray questioned me this morning."
Poncho started to place the warm cookies in a plastic container. "Lucky you. Like we did not have enough trouble around here already with the register coming up short."
"How'd you know about that?" I asked.
"I overheard Keanu and Terry discussing it yesterday. They do not know that I heard them."
Sybil came into the kitchen and placed an order slip on the silver wheel located on the counter. Poncho glanced at it and immediately reached into the fridge for some chopped vegetables. He then poured some sesame oil into a steel frying pan, and added chopped chicken. I had no culinary skills to speak of, but it looked like he was preparing chicken teriyaki.
"What's your opinion on that?"
He stirred the pan's contents thoughtfully. "I do not like to single people out but would bet my life that it was not you or Vivian. So you do the math. Who is left?"
I already had my suspicions but, like Poncho, didn't want to spread any tales until I was certain.
My phone pinged with a text message. I glanced down and spotted Keanu's name. "I'll be back in a few minutes." I went into the small adjoining room for employees to read his text in private.
Stepped out of the room for a minute. Told Ray I needed a drink of water. Basically, he's grilling us about what exactly Dad said to Cremshaw on the phone this morning. Did my parents offer him free food, or maybe something else like money, so he'd forget about the blog post? My father is getting really pissed.
I started to type out a reply, but then another text from him arrived first.
I don't want to be here. I'd rather be lying on the beach somewhere, kissing my beautiful girlfriend.
His words made me smile. It had been such a crappy day for the both of us, but as always, the thought of Keanu was a bright spot, like the sun hidden behind clouds. I typed out: I wish you were here. There's a cast party after the show tonight. Will you come with me, and then we can go back to my place?
His response was immediate. You know I will. I can't wait for us to have some alone time together and forget about the real world for a while.
Me too. I could almost picture Terry trying to engage Ray in a shouting match and Keanu's useless efforts to calm his father down. Heck, I wouldn't have wanted to be there either.
It was bad enough that we were all considered suspects in Randolph's murder. On top of that, Keanu now had to deal with someone lifting money out of the register. I knew that Poncho suspected Coral, even though he hadn't said her name. Then I remembered Vivian's earlier comment about Coral being jealous of me. Had she really filled the ketchup holders with Tabasco sauce so I'd be blamed? Was she taking money in an attempt to get me into trouble? No. Not everything's about you. The entire thing sounded crazy, but still, what did I really know about the girl?
I glanced uneasily at the stairs that led to the office, and the naughty side of my brain had a sudden idea. On impulse, I climbed the stairs slowly and quietly so that Poncho wouldn't hear. The door was almost always left ajar, as Keanu liked the idea of an open-door policy for his employees. In such a short time as manager, he'd been wonderful at handling the staff. He knew how to listen and genuinely cared about his workers. Sure, I might be a bit biased, but it was difficult to find fault with the man.
There was a couch upstairs in the middle of the wooden paneled floor, with a couple of armchairs positioned by the oak desk in an attempt to form a seating group. A small coat closet was located in the corner of the room. Ava, who was always cold—even on 80-degree days like this—kept a sweater hanging in there. Two shelves above the coat rack held receipts, bank statements, and other accounting paraphernalia that I could never hope to figure out. Keanu also had an accounting degree, which served him well in the dual role of manager and financial expert.
I had no business being up here alone. One of my worst habits was my inquisitiveness, and it had almost proved fatal to me after Hale's death. I'd snooped around in Keanu's desk when it had previously been Hale's, curious about his murder and if one of my coworkers might have been responsible for it. I sat down in the swivel chair and reached for the bottom drawer, where I knew employee files were kept. It wasn't locked. I pulled the drawer open and searched for Coral's folder. I reminded myself that I wasn't going to look at anyone else's information, so this made it okay, right?
There was a day last week when I'd spotted Coral standing idly next to the register right before closing. I'd asked her if she'd wiped down the tables on the patio, and she'd muttered something about making change for a customer. I'd dismissed the episode afterward, but now started to wonder. What if Coral had been in the middle of removing money from the drawer when I'd interrupted her?
Coral's file stated that she lived in town, and her mother was listed as an emergency contact. Her résumé listed previous experience at an IHOP restaurant in Kauai, which had ended about a year ago, but nothing since, which I thought was a bit strange. Keanu surely must have called for references. I also noted that Coral was a student at Aloha Lagoon Community College.
If Coral was putting herself through school, it had to be difficult on a server's salary. I remembered Sybil saying something recently about her parents paying for her tuition and how grateful she was to them. Coral had overheard the conversation and muttered something under her breath about Sybil being a "pampered princess." I made a mental note to ask Sybil, who went to the same school, if she'd ever interacted with Coral on campus.
The temptation to tell Keanu about my suspicion was great, but I would need more proof first. H
e might have drawn the same conclusion as well if he'd looked at Coral's file. Plus, I didn't know how he'd react if I told him I'd been launching my own investigation. He was aware of my past snooping and most likely wouldn't want me involved.
I replaced the manila file in the drawer and closed it shut. As I rose from the desk, I heard footsteps and voices on the stairs.
"Dad, I don't have time for this right now," Keanu complained.
"Well, make the time. The restaurant is dead anyhow. Guess we'd better learn to expect that," Terry growled in return.
I froze in my tracks. Oh crap. Crap! They were headed upstairs to the office. How would I explain what I was doing here? My eyes darted around the room, and without thinking, I dashed into the closet and shut the door behind me. My heart thumped wildly against the wall of my chest, and then I cursed myself. Why did I just do that? I should have said I came upstairs to drop off a produce receipt or something like that. Now it was too late—I was trapped. I prayed they wouldn't stay long.
"Your girlfriend must be out on a break." Terry's voice was thick with sarcasm. "See, when the cat's away, the mouse will play."
I was stunned at his words. I'd always tried to be a good employee and had never given Terry a reason to think I was a slacker. Where was this coming from?
Keanu's tone was low, but I detected a note of anger in it. "She's not on the clock Dad, remember? She came to get her purse and decided to stay here until her show because she didn't want to be alone after what happened this morning. How can you be so insensitive?"
"She seems like a nice girl, Terry." Ava's soft voice filled the room. "We should have Carrie over for dinner soon. I'd like to get to know her better." She paused for a few seconds. "How serious are things between the two of you, dear?"
I held my breath and waited for his reply.
"Things are very serious," Keanu answered.
The entire room was silent except for the heavy breathing emanating from my body. In a sudden panic that they might hear my obscene phone caller–like noises, I clamped a hand over my mouth and struggled to breathe normal.
Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Boxed Set Volume III (Books 7-9) Page 45