Too Hot Four Hula: 4 (The Tiki Goddess Mystery Series)

by Jill Marie Landis

  “And?”

  “I finally got to see it myself, and sure enough, there was a man in a hoodie who slipped into Louie’s room and back out again right after we checked in. He was carrying a plastic shopping bag from the ABC Store. Everyone down at hotel security is as nice as can be, but we haven’t had a chance to view the main desk video to see who dropped off the letter. The playback isn’t working. I spoke to a Lieutenant Chun at the Waikiki substation . . .” She paused a minute and then quickly added, “when the Maidens were arrested and . . .”

  “Arrested?”

  “They were hauled in, but not booked,” she said.

  “I’m not even going to ask.”

  “I take it you missed the news a couple nights ago.”

  Before Roland could answer there was a knock at the door, and room service was delivered. Em eyed the assortment of sweet bread choices and poured them some juice.

  Louie walked back in. “Yeah, they were arrested. It wasn’t much. Just a little riot down at the beach bar. Dancing without a permit. Failure to cease and desist. I’m surprised the police didn’t throw in resisting arrest.”

  Roland pulled a bran muffin the size of a cantaloupe out of a napkin-lined basket.

  Em broke off a piece of Danish and popped it into her mouth.

  Louie grabbed a croissant, a cup of coffee, and a couple of bananas. “I’ll eat this in my room. Gotta be down at the conference hall before the day’s competition starts.”

  “What’s happening today?” Roland asked.

  “The judges are quizzing us about our garnishes, choices of glassware, and when and why we choose traditional shakers over blenders. All the interview points will be added to our final scores.”

  “You’ll do great, Uncle Louie.” Em finished her last sip of coffee.

  “Mahalo, Em, for that vote of confidence, but most of these guys and gals are professionals. They enter these things all the time. Heck, I’m just an old timer.”

  “You’ve been a mixologist longer than most of them have been alive,” she said.

  Louie disappeared into his room. Roland polished off his bran muffin and leaned back in the chair. Em tried to convince herself that now was the perfect time to tell him about last night and how she’d ended up at the substation.

  “We should head down to the hotel security office and view the surveillance video. If we’re lucky, maybe I have a calabash cousin on staff,” he said.

  Em promised herself she’d tell him about her own trip to the substation as soon as they had hopefully seen the video.

  As it turned out, there was no calabash cousin manning the hotel security office, but that didn’t matter because Varla, the gal in uniform behind the counter, was eyeing Roland the way Em salivated over the Orchids’ signature coconut cake yesterday. When he flashed his KPD badge, Varla was more than willing to make points with him.

  Varla had just come back from checking out the video control room. She ignored Em, speaking directly to Roland.

  “You’re in luck. The tech team’s almost finished. Hopefully in a few minutes we’ll be able to run the recordings of the front desk for the last twenty-four hours. You might catch a glimpse of whoever dropped off the envelope for Mr. Marshall.”

  Roland didn’t give her details about the contents of the manila envelope. He only explained that they needed to find out who dropped it off.

  “We’d like to look through the videos together.” Roland nodded toward Em.

  He’d no sooner spoken when Em’s cell went off. She glanced at the screen and saw that it was Trish Reynolds. Since Trish was usually so level-headed and rarely called her, she told him, “I’d better take this. Sorry.”

  She stepped out of the security office onto one of the pathways that wound through the myriad pools and gardens of the resort, hoping all the Maidens were all right.

  “Em, we’ve got an emergency on our hands.”

  “What now?” Em wished she’d ignored the call.

  “Suzi took a tumble off of the stage at the Beach Bar behind the Moana last night. Luckily it was after we finished dancing. Her sandal caught on something, and I think she may have broken her big toe. Maybe even her whole foot. It’s all kapakahi, and she can’t walk.”

  “Where is she?” Em pictured the diminutive realtor lying under the stage near the banyan tree behind the Moana Hotel.

  “We managed to get her back here late last night. She was feeling no pain then, but now she’s in her room and pretty miserable. I’ve never seen her like this. She hasn’t even checked her emails about pending escrows yet this morning.”

  “Did you call the hotel doctor?”

  “Not yet. She iced it and thought it would be better by now, but her foot’s looking pretty gnarly. I think she needs to go to emergency. Will you go up and talk some sense into her? We’re all in the Tapa Tower on the tenth floor. I’ll go with you.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Look through the bushes to your left.”

  Em could make out Trish’s tall slender form and strawberry blond hair behind some palm fronds not far away.

  “Why don’t you just walk over here?”

  “No. Please, just hurry.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Em walked back into the security office and found Roland waiting at the counter, still chatting up Officer Varla.

  “Would you mind looking through the videos alone? Suzi took a tumble, and they need me,” Em said.

  “Sure. Is she all right?”

  “She may have a broken toe.”

  Em left the security office and headed in the direction she’d last seen Trish. She found her slinking around the edge of the lava rock planter.

  “Hey, Trish,” Em said. Trish was so startled she jumped and let out a squeak. “What’s going on?” Em asked.

  They’d started walking toward the Tapa Tower. Trish leaned close and whispered, “I have enough oxycodone in my pocket to fell an elephant, that’s what. When I saw you with Roland, I panicked.”

  “He’s not a drug-sniffing German Shepard.”

  “What’s he doing here?”

  Em got a warm feeling all the way to her toes. “He flew over to help us find Louie’s Booze Bible. Where did you get the drugs?”

  “Kiki’s got a full-on pharmacy in her cosmetic case. She collects leftover prescription meds from her neighbors.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t ask me. She’s convinced them it’s against the law to flush leftovers down the toilet into their septic tanks. She hoards them in case of emergencies. She actually made me sign for the two pills she counted out for Suzi.”

  They stepped out of the elevator on the tenth floor where Big Estelle, Lillian, Precious, and Pat were in the hallway outside of Trish’s door. The boom box was going, the three dancers practicing a new hula number. Suzi’s door was open.

  Em looked in and saw Suzi lying on the pull-out sofa. Her foot was propped on a pillow. A woman with a nimbus of frizzy black curls was moving her palms over Suzi’s injured foot without touching it.

  Em couldn’t help but notice her shimmering purple eye shadow and long thick lashes. The woman had her eyes closed and was rocking back and forth with her hands hovering over Suzi’s toes.

  “Who is that?” Em asked Trish.

  Trish whispered, “One of the Miracle Cream ladies from Japan. She’s a witch.”

  “A Japanese witch.” Could this trip get any weirder? Em wondered. “Except for the eye shadow, she doesn’t look like one of the Miracle Cream crowd,” Em said.

  “She does when her hair is up and sprayed and she’s in a power suit and full makeup.”

  The nimbus of dark hair quivered as the woman shook her head back and forth muttering, “Not good. Not good.”

 
Em finally took a good look at Suzi’s toe. It was sticking out at a perpendicular angle. She didn’t have to be a witch to know it was not good.

  Trish stepped into the room and Em followed.

  “I got the pain pills from Kiki,” Trish announced. “Oxycodone.”

  “No. Heaven’s no. I don’t want it.” Suzi stuck out her tongue. “Big Estelle has been in a walking coma since she took whatever Kiki gave her.”

  “I heard that,” Big Estelle sang out over the music in the hall. “I’m awake now.”

  “What am I supposed to do with it?” Trish was wide-eyed with worry.

  “Give it back to Kiki,” Suzi suggested.

  “Where is Kiki?” Em asked.

  “In her room working on choreography,” Lillian said.

  Trish dug around in her pocket. Em stared at Suzi’s toe. Not only was it sticking off the side of her foot, but the area around it was black and blue.

  “I think you need to go to emergency quick,” Em said.

  The Miracle Cream witch began nodding. “Yes. Yes. Emerlencee. Click. Vely click.”

  “Fine, but I can’t walk.” Suzi tried to sit up and fell back onto her pillow.

  By now Pat had killed the boom box. She, Big Estelle, Precious, and Lillian were crowded in the doorway.

  “You can use Little Estelle’s scooter,” Trish suggested.

  “Impossible,” Big Estelle said. “I dozed off, and she got away from me early this morning. The valet captain said she had him call a handicapped equipped taxi van with a lift, and they loaded up the scooter.”

  “Dozed off?” Precious snorted. “You weren’t in your room. You were knocked out and shackin’ up with Byron.”

  “Where did Little Estelle go?” Em so wished she’d ignored Trish’s call.

  Big Estelle shrugged. “Some recording studio. She finished her rap song and wanted to get it recorded before we left the island. I tried to stop her, but you know how sneaky Mother is when she gets an idea in her head. She ran off with my credit card, too. God only knows how much it cost to rent a sound studio for an hour.”

  “How does it sound?”

  “The rap? How should I know?” Big Estelle looked peeved. “It’s top secret.”

  “I’ll call the front desk and see if they rent wheelchairs,” Trish said. She turned to Em. “Will you go with us?”

  “Roland took time off to fly over and help recover Louie’s notebook. I really should stay.”

  “Roland’s a professional. He’ll call you if and when he finds something,” Suzi said. “I trust you more than anyone to get me to emergency with as little drama as possible, Em.”

  Suzi looked up pitifully from her pillow. Her gaze surreptitiously slid to the Japanese witch. She looked at Em again and whispered, “Please?”

  24

  THEY TOOK SUZI to the emergency room at Straub Hospital on King Street in Honolulu. Not exactly right next door to the hotel. Remarkably quickly, Suzi’s foot was x-rayed, her toe put in place and bound. As it turned out she’d broken various small bones in her foot, but she was able to limp along with a crutch and her foot encased in a navy blue boot with Velcro straps.

  The others were helping her out to the curb when Em’s cell phone went off. Thinking it was Roland, she answered without looking at caller ID and quickly discovered she was talking to a Honolulu PD detective. She expected him to tell her they had a lead on Louie’s notebook.

  Instead he said, “Mrs. Johnson, you’re Phillip Johnson’s next of kin?”

  The question took her completely by surprise. “I’m his ex-wife. What’s happened? Did he tell you to call me?”

  “We found your name on an emergency card in his wallet.”

  “In his wallet?” A chill ran through her. “Where’s Phillip?”

  “It would be better if I explained in person.” He gave her an address and asked her to meet him there.

  Her mind racing, Em immediately thought of the extortion letter. This caller could be part of the scam. Not about to go running into a trap, she asked him for his name and badge number.

  Em’s hands shook as she dialed the main station and received confirmation that Lieutenant Detective Justin Bardon was indeed who he said he was. She handed the rental van keys and the Maidens over to Trish and called Roland once she was in a cab. She told him about the phone call and gave him the address.

  “I’ll meet you there,” Roland said.

  As the cab wound its way through the congested Honolulu streets, Em realized she forgot to ask if he’d viewed the front desk security videos.

  When the cab driver turned onto a street lined with run-down apartment buildings, Em wondered if he was lost and felt a moment of concern until she noticed four white squad cars and a white van parked up ahead.

  Cops stood around in the sun in twos and threes chatting. The street was lined with wood-framed houses sandwiched between two-and three-story apartments. Balconies were lined with clotheslines full of clothing. Piles of belongings oozed out of the apartments and were stacked along upper walkways.

  Em’s stomach flopped when the driver stopped in front of a pale stucco, two-story apartment building with the name Lokelani above a courtyard entry. Yellow plastic crime tape was stretched across it. A sign near the entry advertised Apartments by Day-Week-Month.

  She fished around in her bag, opened her wallet, grabbed a bill, and handed it to the driver without looking.

  “Keep the change.” She hoped she’d paid enough.

  “Wow. T’anks, lady.”

  A plainclothes officer approached in a navy polo shirt and black pants. He was a heavy set, barrel-chested haole with close-cropped blond hair and black-rimmed Ray-Ban sunglasses. She had no doubt he was a detective. His nametag identified him as the one who called her. His unreadable expression was the same as the one Roland had perfected.

  “Mrs. Johnson?”

  Em wasn’t used to answering to “Mrs.” No one had called her that for over a year.

  “It’s Ms.” She tightened her grip on the handles of her straw purse, attempting to get her hands to stop shaking.

  “Let’s go into the courtyard.”

  They ducked under the crime tape. In the far corner of the courtyard there was a small vegetable garden plot, something she’d never expected to see in the middle of the city. A few valiant tomato plants were staked beside bushy kale, eggplant, and red peppers. The second floor balcony was lined with numbered doors. Uniformed officers were stationed outside an open door on the shady side of the building.

  A feeling of dread settled over Em. It had taken a good twenty minutes for her to cross the city. An emergency ambulance would have come and gone already if Phillip was merely injured.

  The detective stopped in the shade of the building near the stairs to the second floor.

  “There’s no easy way to say this, ma’am.” Bardon looked away. “Your husband is dead.”

  “My ex-husband,” she whispered.

  “We found a card with your name and address in his wallet. He still has you listed as his next of kin.”

  He extracted a small spiral notebook from his back pocket.

  Just like Roland, she thought before her mind jumped. Phillip is dead?

  “What happened?”

  “The manager went up to take him a spare key this morning a little after eight. He knocked, but no one answered, so he was going to leave it on the table inside. He found your husband’s body on the floor.”

  She thought of all the stress Phillip had been under with the divorce, the loss of his business, and starting over. She pictured his fiancée with her armload of shopping bags from lux shops and then looked around the shabby apartment complex. Nothing was adding up.

  “Did he have a heart attack or something?”
/>   “No, ma’am. He was shot through the heart at close range.”

  25

  EM REALIZED SHE must have passed out when she woke up and saw Roland leaning over her. Someone had stretched her out on a yellowing plastic lawn chair. A uniformed officer walked up with a bottle of water and handed it to Detective Bardon who handed it off to Roland.

  Roland twisted off the cap and held it out to Em. She sloshed water on herself before she managed to take a sip and hand it back.

  “Phillip’s dead,” she said, not really believing it.

  “Your ex?” Roland offered the water again.

  “Someone shot him.”

  Detective Bardon said, “The neighbors saw him having a big beef with a guy named Damian Bautista when he moved in yesterday.”

  Em looked around. “There must be some mistake. Phillip wasn’t staying here.” She looked up at Detective Bardon. “He lives in California. He was on vacation at the Moana with his fiancée.”

  “He rented this place yesterday late in the afternoon.” Bardon made a note on his little notepad. “Said he was alone. Are you from California, too?”

  “No. Not anymore. I live on Kauai with my uncle.”

  “Did you come to Oahu to meet your husband?”

  “My ex. No.” She shook her head. “Not at all.”

  “So you haven’t seen him?”

  “I have seen him. We had lunch together yesterday.” Em felt Roland’s intense stare without looking at him. She wished she’d told him she was going to have lunch with her ex before she left Kauai. Would he think she was hiding it from him?

  “Her uncle is Louie Marshall,” Roland explained. “He owns the Tiki Goddess Bar up on the North Shore of Kauai. There was a reality series shot there last year called Trouble in Paradise.

  The detective studied Em carefully. “I thought you looked familiar, but then I thought, naw, couldn’t be her.”

  “That’s what everyone says,” she mumbled.

  “Feeling better?” Roland was still hunkered down beside her.