“Nobody told me nothing,” he said, growling. “Okay, take it all the way down there to the left and pull around to the back of da building. That’s the kitchen entrance.”
“Thanks,” Wes said, giving a short wave.
Other guests who had arrived ahead of us were relinquishing their vehicles to the behemoths that were demanding their keys, and we had to wait a few minutes as those cars and trucks were pulled around and taken back up the drive. Wes slowly inched the Mustang up to the large electric gate, which our own security fellow opened by pushing a button on a remote control device. As Wes pulled ahead, he carefully dodged the luau guests who were walking up to the house ahead of us on the private road.
Soon we’d found a nice, tucked-away spot to park the Mustang, and Wes and I began unloading our goodies. In the kitchen, we met the housekeeper, who was happy to show us where to put the giant wok and other items.
“Should I go move our car?” Wes asked her when we were through unloading our supplies.
“No need,” she said. “You stay. Maybe you need to load your things up at the end of the luau?”
“Right,” he said.
“So you stay there. We keep it quiet,” she said, and then she winked.
“Lots of security here,” I commented.
“Mr. doesn’t like a lot of people. I don’t know why he let everybody come here tonight. Must be because he was such a good friend.”
“Of Kelly Imo?” I asked.
“That’s the one,” she said. “He was a very nice man, that one.”
Wes had already begun to heat up the oil in the wok, and I started opening our large coolers, but the housekeeper shooed me away. “I can do this thing,” she said, smiling at me. “You don’t need to do all this work.”
“But we are friends of Keniki’s,” I explained, “and we are caterers too. So we wanted to cook something special.”
“This look good,” said the housekeeper, getting close to Wes, watching him stir-fry the lemongrass-chicken lollipops.
“Thank you,” Wes said.
“I make all the food for the luau,” she said. “I made the kulua pig in the imu. I make laulau. All the traditional things. But nothing like your lollipops chickens. You go check out the table, miss. You tell me what you think.”
“I’ll be fine here,” Wes called to me.
A door on hinges led from the kitchen to the dining room, a huge space lit by a fabulous chandelier. The chairs had been removed to another room, but the enormous koa wood table was gleaming. Atop the polished table, lauhala mats were rolled out and a beautiful centerpiece made of ti leaves, ferns, and an array of multicolored orchids was laid the length of the mat. Bowls filled with poi and platters of taro-wrapped laulau and grilled pork were set out along with sweet potatoes, steamed fish, and steak covered in leaves, which were laid directly on the clean mat.
The housekeeper had followed me to the dining room, and she was smiling now, looking pleased with my reaction.
“This is amazing,” I said. “It looks so authentic.”
“Exactly right. You know about the history of luau?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“In ancient Hawaii, men and woman ate their meals apart. Commoners and all women were also forbidden by the ancient Hawaiian religion to eat certain delicacies.”
“That’s rough,” I said.
“This all changed in 1819, when King Kamehameha II abolished the traditional religious practices. So what did they do, miss? They had a great feast and invited the womenfolk. That feast where the king ate with women was the symbolic act which ended our island’s religious taboos.”
“And the luau was born?” I asked. So partying here in Hawaii was a feminist act. I knew I liked this state.
“Now I go back and help your friend,” she said and disappeared back into the kitchen.
The house was filling up fast with Kelly’s friends and associates, who were entering at the open front door. I made my way out of the less crowded dining room and edged into the large living room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Keniki or her sister, Cynthia Hicks.
“Madeline.”
I looked up to see Claudia Modlin, the lady from the bamboo club, coming toward me. “Hi, Claudia.”
“Have you heard about Kelly?” she whispered when she had gotten closer.
“No. What?”
She pulled me a little to the side, away from the crush of entering guests. “His death was no accident. The police released some information to the press. I heard it on the radio when we were driving here.”
“What happened?” I had an instant when my stomach knotted, thinking of Holly and the lamp.
“He was shot. They had kept that quiet up until now, but it’s true. He was shot, and then his body was dumped into the ocean.”
“Oh my god.”
“I knew you would want to know,” said Claudia. “And I think his girlfriend, Keniki, has been at the police station most of the afternoon, answering questions from what I understand. This is now a murder investigation. Poor girl.”
“Who would have done it?” I asked Claudia.
“How would I know?” she asked me, surprised. “You don’t believe the rumors that he was seeing the sister on the side, do you? I certainly don’t. It’s completely preposterous.”
What was this? Was she implying Keniki might have had reason to doubt Kelly’s love, might have been jealous of her own sister, might have had a motive for murder? Or perhaps her sister, Cynthia, had a motive? Impossible. I hate rumors. I hate the damage lies can do. But how does one stop them? Only by finding out the truth. And the truth wasn’t always as neat and clean as I would wish it to be. I had to admit, once I calmed myself down again, I had no idea how solid Keniki and Kelly’s relationship had been.
“Please tell me what you know about it, Claudia. You said he was close to your family.”
“Yes, he was,” she said. “Those are my two boys there.” She looked off toward two tall handsome teenagers who were standing awkwardly near the front door.
“But you didn’t tell me Kelly had worked for you too.” I watched closely for her reaction. “Was that something you wanted to keep a secret, Claudia?”
“Not at all,” she said smoothly. “My husband and I were trying to do a little real estate transaction. Nothing more. Kelly was surveying some land for us, drawing up likely parcels. But that project was over months ago.”
“So you have no idea why Kelly would have been shot?”
“None at all. Will you excuse me, Madeline? I see someone I need to talk with.”
I watched her walk away, thin and beautifully dressed, certain she wasn’t telling me everything she knew. But hearing the news that Kelly had been shot to death had me now more worried about the thing that I did know. Those men who had stopped me at the Grand Waikoloa had threatened me with a gun. If Kelly had been shot, I really had to get to the police and tell them. Gabriel Swan had been planning to complain to the Grand Waikoloa security office, but I had to make sure that information got all the way to the cops.
Wesley appeared in the living room, holding a platter of freshly fried lemongrass-chicken sugarcane lollipops along with a bowl of his sweet chili dipping sauce, and I could see the swirls of guests as they gathered around him. My cue to help out.
I swiftly returned to the kitchen and smiled at the housekeeper, who was now working on the appetizers, expertly tossing them in the wok. I decorated my own large platter with a batch of freshly prepared lollipops and headed back for the party.
It was heartwarming to see the expressions of gustatory appreciation as the guests sampled our brand-new recipe. In fact, I stopped and tried one of the lollipops myself, something I should have done earlier. The delicate but kicky spices in the chicken “pop” bounced beautifully off the juicy sweetness of the sugarcane sticks. And for extra dash, the sweet chili sauce was amazing.
Just then I finally spotted Keniki’s sister, Cynthia Hicks, amid the throng and made m
y way over to her side of the room. She turned to me, noticed the tray of food I was passing, and met my eyes.
“Oh, Madeline,” she said. “This is so sweet. You cooked this yourself?”
“I worked on it with my partner, Wes,” I said. “Cynthia, I just heard the news. I was told that Kelly had been shot. Is that true?”
“Yes,” she said, her face going pale. “It’s true. But we cannot believe it. They don’t have any idea who might have done this thing. And Keniki is also shocked. She cannot even guess what happened to Kelly. Maybe he discovered some sort of burglar and was shot when he tried to stop him?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“This is killing my sister,” Cynthia whispered. “The answer must be found. She will get no peace until this matter is resolved.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I try to comfort her,” Cynthia said, a tear escaping even as the luau swirled around us, guests greeting old friends warmly here and there. “But I can do nothing for Denise. She is tearing herself apart.”
“For Denise?” I stopped offering my tray around and concentrated on what Cynthia had just said.
“My sister. Keniki is her Hawaiian name. It’s Hawaiian for Denise.”
Denise. What was it again that Gabriel Swan mentioned that my fairy said that the dolphins had told her?
Denise needs your help.
I avoided looking down in the region of my left breast and tried not to think about my fairy. I tried very, very hard. But it wasn’t working.
Ohe Eha-
(Bamboo Four)
Okay,” I whispered, “I’m on it.”
I was whispering to myself, naturally, just strengthening my resolve, but I suppose an argument could be made that if my fairy happened to be hanging about and listening, she could hear my pledge as well.
Over in a far corner of the living room, I thought I saw a familiar face. I looked closer and recognized the wild Hawaiian-print shirt covering the middle-age spread on the rather short torso of Earl Maffini, the president of the Hawaiian Bamboo Association. He appeared deep in conversation with another fellow. The crowd was such that I couldn’t get a clear shot, so I worked my way over to Earl’s side of the room, detouring left and right to offer chicken lollipops to whomever I caught hungrily eyeing my tray. I stopped to serve a small group of somber young people near a grand piano, turning my back to Earl’s corner of the room, but close enough to overhear some of his conversation.
“…or I’ll lose another friend. Is that what you want?”
A familiar masculine voice answered him. “Of course not. But no one flies low over my property. I’ve taken care of all that.”
The dour young man in front of me, whom I had momentarily forgotten, removed two lemongrass-chicken appetizers and said a baleful “Thanks.”
I nodded but kept my ear on the conversation behind me.
“You are taking a terrible risk!” Earl said, his voice now lower, but I was following every word. “Look, all four of us have got to hang together if we are going to pull this off. And Claudia isn’t a fool. If she knows about your crop, that will only give her more power.”
The crowd parted a bit and I turned. And as I expected, it was Cake whose voice I’d just heard talking to Earl. Cake was standing with Earl, looking fabulous as always. “A man has to make money on this island, right?” he was saying, smiling. “You worry too much, Earl.”
They both recognized me at the same time.
“Hi,” I said, almost shy now in Cake’s presence. It was such a girly emotion, this flush of excitement I felt. And I fought the weakness in my knees.
“Ms. Bean,” Earl called out, his tone of voice instantly hearty.
Cake’s eyes filled with surprise. “Maddie?”
“Care for an hors d’oeuvre?”
He looked me up and down, not missing the sheerness of my linen top, the tightness of my slacks, the tray I was carrying. “Every time I see you, you’re working.”
I blushed. “Well…”
“What an industrious spirit you have.”
“You two know each other?” Earl asked. “Why am I not surprised, Cake. I suppose you’d like your privacy. Well, I’ve got to go talk to some of the others. I see Ike has finally made it.”
“Could I have a word with you, Earl?” I asked quickly before he could get away.
“With me? Well, of course.”
“In private?” I asked, indicating he might follow me off to the side of the room where there was an open door to an office.
He smiled at me and then turned and gave a cheery little victory wave to Cake.
“I’ll see you later, then,” Cake said to me, his hand on my bare arm, his expression puzzled. “Right, Maddie?”
“We’ll see.”
A smile played on his full lips as he watched me walk away. “We’ll see,” he echoed.
For one thing, I needed to be rational now. This present knees-a’buckle feeling, caused by mere proximity to a dangerously handsome man with whom I’d shared a semi-intimate encounter, was ludicrous. And for another, I was certain the conversation I’d just overheard between Earl Maffini and Cake couldn’t be good news. Whatever Earl had been warning Cake about, it seemed mixed up with the Bamboo Four, whoever they were. And what sort of crop had Earl implied could get Cake in trouble if he wasn’t careful?
Earl followed me all the way to the office, his eyebrows raised.
“Thanks for giving me a minute,” I said, resting my empty platter on the desk, smiling at the fifty-year-old guy.
“Now that’s got to be the first time in history the pretty lady asked Cake to get lost so she could spend some private time with me.”
“I can’t believe that, Earl.”
But flattery only worked on some of the men some of the time. And a few minutes of private conversation was as far as it was going to get me. He said, “So why don’t you tell me to what I owe this pleasure?”
Alas, he was not quite the fool I’d hoped he’d be. “Did you hear about Kelly?” I asked. “They say it was murder. That he was shot.”
“That’s what I heard too, but I can’t believe it,” Earl said. “Kelly was a wonderful boy, wonderful. I can’t imagine what happened. We don’t get this kind of crime on our island. It makes no sense.”
He sounded completely sincere. But I knew he worked as a lobbyist in his previous career. He was a professional wheel-greaser. How hard was it for Earl to sound concerned when he really wasn’t? I tried another topic. “Earl, who are the Bamboo Four?”
“What?”
“You. Cake. Claudia.” I ticked three fingers.
“Who told you about the Bamboo Four?” he asked, amused.
“Keniki Hicks. She said Kelly was having trouble with the Bamboo Four.”
“Not at all. I explained this to you after the HBA meeting. Keniki was upset and she doesn’t understand. We were all, including Kelly, on the same page, just that Kelly wanted to read a little too fast for the rest of us.”
“So who is the fourth member of the Four?”
“That’s not something I’m at liberty to say,” Earl said in a gentlemanly way.
“You know I can find out from Keniki, if you insist.”
“Now, now, Ms. Bean. No one wants to go disturbing that poor gal today.”
I had to know. “The fourth member of the Bamboo Four, is it Marvin Dubinsky?” It all made sense to me. Dubinsky was the missing link. Dubinsky was living on the Big Island, involved in botanical research, and remained the elusive quantity throughout the entire weekend. It had to be.
Earl’s pleasant face instantly lost its jolly, politicking sheen. “You know Marvin?”
“Yes,” I said, certain I was right. “He’s married to my best girlfriend.”
“Marvin is married?” asked Earl. “I never heard anything about that.”
“So,” I continued before he decided to stop talking, “Marvin Dubinsky is part of the Bamboo Four.”
Earl cast his gl
ance around, but no one was near the entrance to the office where we stood. “He likes to keep an extremely low profile, Ms. Bean. I can’t really confirm your suggestion. I think we understand each other.”
I understood nothing. “I’ve got to find him,” I said quickly. “My friend may be in danger. Please. I know you must have his address.”
“I do,” he said, his expression becoming totally mystified.
“Will you give it to me?” I pressed, no longer working the flirty angle at all. “Please.”
“You’ve got it.”
“What?”
“You’re here.”
I stared at him.
“This is Marvin’s home,” Earl said, speaking slowly, perhaps so I could comprehend what he was saying. “Right here. You’re in it.”
“I can’t believe this.” The shock of the news sapped me of words. And just then I noticed on the wall of the office there was a framed print featuring the Japanese kanji symbols for Mountain Hollyhock. Well, duh. I leaned against the desk to keep from falling.
“I told you you got it all wrong,” Earl explained patiently. “We were all Kelly’s friends. That’s why we’re here tonight, paying our respects at his final luau. Look here, Marvin even came forward in the pinch to offer his home. You may not have heard, but this whole shindig had to be relocated because Kelly had so many friends who wanted to come. I called Marvin, and he didn’t hesitate to offer the plantation house here. So don’t get any crazy ideas about who his friends really are.”
“I didn’t know,” I said, still in shock. “So, okay. I better go find him. Thanks.”
“Well, that’s the thing. He’s not here, of course. Marv avoids parties. His property holdings here are pretty vast. He’s somewhere out there.” He gestured out the window toward the darkness beyond. “This property is bigger than you might imagine.”
And that one comment triggered an entirely new train of thought. What had I heard about each of the Bamboo Four? Earl, Claudia, Cake, and Marvin were not only horticulture freaks, they were also wealthy individuals who shared a compelling interest in land. Claudia had been secretive at first, but she finally admitted she had plans to acquire land, and that she had employed Kelly to help draw up likely parcels. Earl, I recalled from his business card, was also into real estate. And Cake and Marvin were both large landholders on the Big Island.
The Flaming Luau of Death Page 18