Suddenly they had been surrounded by a crowd of autograph seekers.
“Maybe it was a crazed fan,” Louie said.
“Could be. There’s been plenty of press about the contest, you in particular, thanks to the show. The Booze Bible is legendary. You’re a threat to the other contestants.”
“If someone stole it,” he sighed, “I’m toast.”
Em picked up the house phone and asked for security. A recording in English and then rapid-fire Japanese asked her to please hold. Hawaiian music immediately filled her ear.
“Are you sure you packed it?” she asked.
He closed his eyes. “Of course.”
“You’re sure? Absolutely.”
“I looked into the briefcase when I was in the airport boarding area just to make sure. Remember, you asked me about it when we were in line. So I checked when we were settled, and it was right there. You were out looking for Little Estelle. Where was she, by the way?”
“Practicing her perversion as usual. Let’s focus, okay? When did you next see it?”
“We were in the van on the way here from the airport. I looked at it again just to make sure.”
“Where did you stow the briefcase? In the back of the van with all the other luggage?”
“No. On my lap.”
“Okay. So when we checked in, did you set it on the luggage cart with everyone’s stuff?”
He frowned, remembering. “I was talking to Kiki and the girls about their rooms not being ready and about the lost ice chest.”
“Where was your satchel, Uncle Louie?”
“I’m pretty sure I still had the strap over my shoulder. I never set it down.”
“Then we left the Maidens and got checked in.”
“Right. Then I came up here with you and put the briefcase on the desk in my room. Now it’s gone.”
“But the briefcase is still here.”
He shook his head. “Yeah. They just took the binder.”
A recording of Don Ho crooned “I Will Remember You” in Em’s right ear.
“How could it just vanish? You never left the suite. Did you go to the bathroom?” she asked.
He shook his head no. His eyes widened. “I took the ice bucket and went to get ice. It’s the first thing I do when I get to a hotel. Isn’t that the first thing everyone does when they check into a hotel? Fill the ice bucket? I went out through the door in my room.” They were sharing a suite, two rooms separated by a sitting room with an efficiency kitchen.
“Did you lock your door?”
His forehead wrinkled. “No. I used that bar thing to hold it open.”
“Oh, Uncle Louie.”
“Hey, the ice machine is just down the hall around the corner.”
“Did you pass anyone in the hall?”
“No.”
“You’re sure.”
He squinted as if scanning his memory.
“I passed a guy in a baseball cap.”
The phone clicked, and a voice came on cutting off the Hawaiian music.
“Hilton security,” a male said.
“This is suite 2042-44. Marshall and Johnson. I’m calling to report a robbery.”
“You were held up at gunpoint?” The voice sounded doubtful.
“I meant burglary.”
“Okay, den. Somebody will be right up.” There was a click on the line. Em hung up and turned to Louie. Right about now Roland would be taking notes. She grabbed a notepad and pen off the nightstand.
“Describe the guy in the cap.” Before you forget.
“Average weight. Medium height.”
“Eyes?”
“I’m sure he had some. He had on sunglasses.”
“Hair?”
“Couldn’t see it under the cap.”
Em sighed. “What did the cap look like?”
“Dark green I think.”
She wrote down green.
“Or maybe black.”
She wrote down maybe black. “Anything else?”
“I think it was a University of Hawaii cap.”
She wrote down UH.
“He had on a jacket.”
Em paused. “A sport coat?”
Louie shook his head no. “The zipper kind. Matched his pants. It must have been a jogging suit.”
“Didn’t that strike you as a little odd, seeing a guy in a jogging suit? It’s eighty-seven degrees outside.”
He shrugged. “I was thinking about ice. Maybe he can’t take the air conditioning. I can’t. What am I going to do, Em?”
“Let’s go in the sitting room and wait.”
They left her room. Louie sank onto the sofa. Someone knocked at the door.
“Sit tight,” she said. “There’s security.”
Em opened the door and stared up at a tall local wearing a generic hotel employee sport coat. His badge identified him as security. He was holding a notebook and pen. His name tag said Kim.
“You call in a burglary?”
“Yes, we did.” Em introduced herself and Louie. “We’re here for the Shake Off competition. My uncle is a contestant. He went to get ice, and when he came back, his briefcase containing a notebook full of a lifetime of cocktail recipes was empty.”
Kim turned to Louie. “When you went to get ice did you lock your door, sir?”
“No. I used that bar thing to prop it open.”
“Safety rules are posted behind the door and inside the hotel guide on the desk in every room. Valuables should be locked in the room safe or given to the front desk where they’ll be locked in a larger hotel safe. Your sliding glass doors to the balcony should be locked when you leave the room.”
Em looked at the wall of windows and the slider to the balcony.
“We’re on the twentieth floor,” she said. “Has Spiderman gone rogue?”
“Where there’s a will,” Kim said.
“There’s a way.” Louie sounded as glum as Em had ever heard him.
She told the hotel detective Louie had seen a man in a jogging suit pass him in the hall. Kim took notes.
“You surely have hallway security cameras,” she said.
“Temperamental at best,” Kim said. “The salt air and humidity always short out the cameras. I’ll run the video back and see if we can get a look at the guy you described.”
“I didn’t see his face,” Louie said. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“What about the Honolulu police?” Em was thinking of Roland and the KPD. She wished he was on the case. “Should we call them?”
Kim shrugged. “Unless there’s been a fortune in jewelry stolen or someone is kidnapped or murdered, hotel security pretty much deals with petty burglary. The HPD has more to worry about than a missing recipe notebook.”
Louie sat slumped over on the edge of the bed, the wind clearly knocked out of his sail.
“That notebook is my life,” he said. “My life’s work is in it.”
Em gave Officer Kim her cell number and walked him out into the hallway.
“Please, Mr. Kim, this means so much to my uncle. If there’s anything you can do to help recover his notebook, or anything we can do to help you, please let us know.”
Kim’s two-way radio beeped. He clicked it on, and a garbled message echoed in the hall.
“Be right there.” He clipped the radio onto his belt again and looked at Em. “We’ll do what we can, ma’am, but don’t get your hopes up.”
9
THIRTY MINUTES before Happy Hour was due to end, the Hula Maidens were still in their travel outfits making a beeline to the Hau Tree beachside bar to score cheap drinks before they performed.
“Hurry, ladies,” Kiki directed.
She glanced back at Flora. The hefty woman was waddling as fast as she could.
“My thighs are rubbing,” Flora groused. “I’ll get that chappin’ thing if I’m not careful.”
Kiki made an executive decision. “We’ll meet you there. Come on, everyone. Faster.”
When they reached the open air bar every seat and table was occupied by tourists of all ages in swimsuits and resort wear as well as locals. Judging from the number of discarded umbrella drinks still on the tables, the bar was doing a bang up business, and the guests were feeling no pain. Screams and splashing sounds drifted from the nearby keiki pool. Kiki turned to Pat who was carrying their boom box in a black duffle.
“Did you put in fresh batteries and bring extras in case there’s no outlet nearby?” Kiki asked.
Pat’s hand shot to her temple. She saluted. “Roger, that.”
“Microphone?”
“Affirmative.”
The Maidens spread out. This wasn’t their first rodeo. They knew what to do. They hovered in pairs close to various tables until one was vacated by a young couple clearly on their honeymoon—if the way they were groping each other after a couple of rum drinks was any indication.
Trish, closest to the table, whistled and waved, and the Maidens stampeded over to surround the small table like African wildlife crowded around the last watering hole in the veld.
Flora came lumbering up and gasped, “We need to order.”
“We need to order now.” Suzi checked her watch. “Only twenty minutes of happy hour left.”
Trish waved Flora into one of the two open chairs. “Sit before you collapse.”
Flora sat. She took a swig out of a plastic Menehune Water bottle that everyone knew contained something a lot stronger than the brand’s water. Precious climbed up onto the other free chair. Kiki, Lillian, and Big Estelle flanked them. Lillian looked around furtively, afraid one of Mindy’s Miracle Cream women would recognize her. Little Estelle had parked her scooter beside a table where two muscular young black men with buzz cuts and gold chains tried hard to ignore her stare. A waiter in a blue aloha shirt with hula dancers cavorting across the fabric took their orders.
“I’ll have two,” Kiki added.
“Sorry, we can’t stack drinks,” the waiter said.
“The first one won’t last long,” she told him.
“Sorry, Auntie. We don’t want to get busted by the alcohol commissioner.”
Across the way, Little Estelle suddenly laughed uproariously, farted, and tooted her horn.
“Service men, you say?” She cackled. “Perfect. You can service me.”
Trish leaned in and said to Kiki, “She’s doing that all the time now.”
“She always goes for the young ones. Those boys are probably from one of the military bases.”
“No, not the pick-up thing. The farting. She tries to cover it up by tooting her horn.”
Pat hurried over to join them. “I found a plug, but it’s too far away. I’m going with batteries.”
Lillian scanned the crowded lanai at the edge of the sand. “Where are we supposed to dance?”
“There’s no stage. There’s not even a clear spot where we can line up,” Big Estelle added.
“How about the beach walk?” A wide sidewalk on the other side of a low wall separated the hotel and bar area from the sand.
“Everyone spread out and find a place to dance between the tables. Right up close and personal with the audience. Try not to knock over anyone’s drink,” Kiki said.
“Just like we did that time on Moloka’i,” Suzi added.
“I didn’t go to Moloka’i,” Lil whined. “Who can I follow if I’m not in line?”
Flora said, “Don’t follow nobody. You should know your dances by now.”
“I do, but I forget them when I get nervous.”
Precious tugged on Kiki’s arm. “What about me? No one will see me if we’re all spread out between tables.”
Pat reached down, picked Precious up, and stood her on the chair.
“There,” Pat said. “Don’t fall off.”
“Let’s do this,” Kiki said.
Suzi hesitated. “Is anyone going to introduce us? We haven’t even been greeted by the bar manager or anyone.”
“We don’t need an introduction,” Kiki said. “Look around. Everyone’s staring at us in expectation. Everyone who isn’t watching Little Estelle paw that guy’s muscles, that is.”
“What about an MC at least?” Suzi suggested.
Kiki countered, “That’s what Pat’s for.”
Pat had the boom box balanced on the chair Flora vacated. A little boy walked by dripping water in his wake. He looked up at his mother who’d obviously only been in the pool from her neck down. Her face was covered with an inch of foundation, and her hair was perfectly styled.
“What’s that, Mom?” he asked.
The woman looked at Pat. “I think it’s a woman.” She reconsidered and said, “Maybe it’s a man.”
“No, Mom, that.” The kid pointed at the boom box.
“It’s from the olden days. It plays CDs. Looks like it’s a radio, too.”
The little boy stared up at Pat. “Why don’t ’cha got an iPod?”
“How old are you, kid?” Pat asked the little boy.
“Eight.”
“If you wanna live to see nine you’d better get movin’.” Pat reached into the black duffle again and pulled out an empty plastic jug labeled TIPS. She handed it to a newlywed couple at a nearby table and said, “Hold this.”
A short blond woman in navy and white striped nautical resort wear tapped Pat on the shoulder and thrust a bar menu at her.
“Aloha, Pat! I’ve so enjoyed you on Trouble in Paradise. May I please have your autograph?” the woman said.
Pat turned three shades of red and barked, “Hold your horses, lady. We’ll be selling T-shirts later, too.”
“Hit it,” Kiki said.
Pat hit the play button, and “Little Grass Shack” came booming out of the portable.
The Maidens started dancing, making hitchhiking motions over their right shoulders as lyrics about going back to little grass shacks floated on the trade wind breeze.
As Kiki danced she scanned the crowd. Most of the patrons at the tables were smiling, but not all. A couple of locals got up and left. She spotted the manager as he stepped out from behind the bar and edged his way closer to where Pat hovered beside the boom box. He didn’t look happy. In fact, he looked down right pissed.
When the song ended, he said something to Pat that Kiki couldn’t hear. Pat stopped the CD, looked over at her, shrugged, and folded her arms.
Kiki left the lineup and walked over to Pat and the manager.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
“He said I had to stop the music.” Pat turned a mean-eyed squint on the manager. He appeared intent on ignoring her.
“Why?” Kiki batted her false lashes and tried smiling.
“No dancing out here. It’s not allowed.”
“But we’re the Hula Maidens. We always dance.” Kiki waved her hand toward where the others had been lined up, expecting them to still be there smiling and looking professional.
Instead, Suzi and Trish had broken rank and were signing napkins. Precious was stuck on the tabletop. Kiki watched her get on her hands and knees and ass up, she climbed down.
Lillian stared around bewildered, patting her ratted pink hair into place. Flora had already retreated to her table. She made loud sucking sounds through her Mai Tai straw. Little Estelle was still parked beside the burly young black men. They’d given up trying to ignore her. She was squeezing one of their meaty biceps.
The manager hadn’t caved. “I don’t care who you are.
No dancing out here. We don’t have a cabaret license for this area.”
“You don’t need a cabaret license for a hula show. Hula is considered a cultural experience for the tourists.”
The young man looked stumped for a second. More tourists wielding cameras had gathered and were now taking photos and videos. People on the beach were walking up to see what was going on. As the crowd swelled, the waiters and waitresses weren’t able to navigate around the tables.
“Ready?” Pat’s finger was poised over the boom box.
“Wait just a minute now.” The manager’s frustration had escalated. His plastic smile was gone. He shoved his hand through his hair.
“Mau kau kau!” Kiki shouted the call to attention.
“A’i!” the Maidens shouted back. They all snapped to and bustled over to line up again. Precious climbed back onto the table top.
Pat hit the button, and Don Ho’s recording of “Pearly Shells” started.
“Ooh!” The crowd cheered and applauded as soon as they heard Don’s voice singing a recognizable song. Some of the older guests teared up. The legendary entertainer had appeared at the Hilton Hawaiian Village for years.
The Maidens started dancing. Kiki turned up the megawatts on her smile. She focused on the audience and not the manager as he started tapping on his cell.
10
EM WALKED BESIDE her uncle as they exited the Ali’i Tower, prepared to wander the grounds and decide where to have dinner.
“I’m thinking we should have something substantial. We haven’t had anything healthy all day,” she said. “There’s a Benihana’s across Rainbow Drive.”
“I’m not in the mood to eat.” Louie sounded lower than the sun after sunset.
“Once you see food you might change your mind. Did you get registered for the contest?”
“Yeah. It went quick. They were really organized. None of those hip young men running this thing would have been careless enough to lose a lifetime’s worth of recipes.”
“I’m sure you’ll remember your entry recipe once you start mixing. Get a good night’s sleep and tomorrow you’ll . . .”
Too Hot Four Hula: 4 (The Tiki Goddess Mystery Series) Page 5