Ukulele Deadly

by Leslie Langtry

  I throw my hands up. "Maybe he's just being professional. Andy vouches for him, so I think we should just give him the benefit of the doubt." My boyfriend is taking his love of investigating a little too seriously. Nick grumbles as he pulls into my driveway. He's being a huge help, and I should be supportive. We really do need some sort of getaway trip. If we can put all this past us.

  Terry Flynn, annoying reporter from the Aloha Sun, is sitting on the front porch, notepad in hand. Great.

  "Miss Johnson!" He jumps up and runs over to us as we get out of the car. "Since it's pretty much a foregone conclusion that you killed those people, can you give me an exclusive interview? You know, inside the mind of the Ukulele Undertaker?"

  Before I can respond, Nick gets in the man's face. There's some sort of testosterone-off going on here, as both men stand too close to each other, scowling.

  "I didn't do it." Binny and I walk past him. "That's your exclusive."

  Nick chases the man off, and we watch him run away from the front steps. Yeesh. If he keeps this up, I'm calling the paper and canceling my subscription.

  "Nani!" Mom throws open the door and wraps her arms around me. "I was so worried! Andy and Ed are here, and they told me what happened! Are you alright? Come inside, and I'll get you a glass of wine!"

  Binny and Nick have to pick their jaws up off the floor or they'll trip. Mom waves us all in and shuts the door behind us. There's a huge bouquet of fresh-cut flowers in the foyer, and I can smell the hypnotic fragrance of steaks grilling. Mom is dressed in khaki pants, ballet flats, and a pretty blouse with flowers. Her hair is up in a chignon. I realize I'd warned Nick but not Binny, but from the looks on their faces, this is quite a shock. We follow Mom to the kitchen.

  "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes—Ed's minding the grill," Mom says as she hands me a frosty glass of white wine. She pours another one for Binny as Nick gets a bottle of beer from the fridge.

  "You look lovely, Hallie." Nick comes out of his stupor long enough to compliment her.

  "Thank you, Nick!" She watches as he heads to the yard. "Such a nice boy. And you deserve a nice boy like him, my dear."

  I toy with fainting. It's a definite possibility. But maybe I should stay conscious so I can catch Binny when she passes out.

  "Something smells great!" Binny snaps out of her shock coma and walks to the stove to peek into the pot that's simmering.

  "It's my grandmother's steak sauce." Mom beams. "I haven't made it in a while. Wait until you try it! Really brings out the flavor of the steak."

  The sweet tang of Grandma's sauce tickles my nose. This is a rare treat. I've never been able to make it because the only living person who knows the recipe is Mom. This mom. Not the one I've been living with for two years.

  "Okay…" I say as I back out of the room. "I'm gonna change. Be right back."

  I close the door to my room and slump against it. This is too much. I'm not sure how much more I can take. It's weird to worry that Mom has become her old self again, isn't it? I don't exactly miss the mannequin heads.

  I breathe for a few moments and decide I have to go back out there before her behavior sends Nick and Binny into shock. After a quick rinse in the shower, I throw my hair up in a clip, slip into some shorts and a T-shirt, and join everyone on the lanai.

  It's a beautiful evening. It's always beautiful. And this is exactly why I love it here. Our lanai is permanent outside dining, and tonight is no exception. Candles are lit, and the table is set. Everyone is just waiting for me. I sit, and we immediately start passing the food.

  Mom's really outdone herself. Sweet corn on the cob, au gratin potatoes, blanched green beans, and the special sauce to complement the steaks. There's a lot of moaning going on, especially from me. We're too busy eating to say much. Finally, I push back from the table, stuffed.

  "It's like being back home!" Andy smiles. "Don't get me wrong—I like the food here. But it's nice to get back to meat and potatoes."

  No one is offended, and everyone agrees. And that's when I see that Nick is staring at Ed.

  Uh-oh.

  "So, Ed," Nick says casually. "I hear you are working with Detective Ray on the case."

  Ed nods but says nothing.

  "Did you find out who your impersonator was?" Nick tries again.

  "No."

  Binny steps up to the plate. "As a police officer from the mainland, what do you think of our police force here?" She bats her eyelashes at him, which are considerable. It's impossible for an angry badger not to go weak in the knees around Binny.

  Andy looks disappointed. He's fallen hard. I'll have to talk to him at some point. I can't imagine Binny living in Kansas, any more than I can picture Andy surfing here.

  Ed can't help but stare at my friend. She's got him, I think.

  "They certainly do things differently here," he says after a moment.

  We hang on that sentence, but that's all he says.

  Andy, perhaps sensing his friend might be considered rude, pipes up. "Ed's only spoken to the detective once. I think they're meeting tomorrow morning. Isn't that right?"

  The Kansan cop turns to my cousin. "Yes. We're meeting for breakfast. He gave me my ID back"—he hesitates for a second—"which was unusual."

  We have him.

  "Why do you say that?" Mom asks.

  Why did she ask? Mom hasn't talked about anything but herself for the last couple of years. She's never shown any interest in my work or my friends. I'm surprised she's even following the conversation.

  "Well." Ed stares down at his plate. "It should be impounded as evidence."

  "Maybe it's a professional courtesy?" I ask. "He thought you'd need it."

  "Maybe…" Ed stares off into the darkening night.

  "You don't sound convinced," Nick says.

  The man shakes his head. We all lean forward eagerly.

  He cracks open like a piñata.

  "We are no closer to finding out who the first victim is," Ed says. "And I'm not convinced they're trying. When I asked if they've run fingerprints, Ray frowned, as if to say, 'Why didn't I think of that?'"

  I try not to laugh, imagining the look on the detective's face.

  "Did you talk to them after the luau?" I ask. It's a tender subject, but I need to know. "Did he say anything about what happened today?"

  Ed shakes his head. "I offered to give him a statement since we were down front. But he said he might call me. Might? What's a better witness than another cop?"

  I remember that Angie is going to interview them. "Did you see anything? You guys were the closest to the stage. Did you see anything suspicious?"

  The three men shake their head. Nick speaks. "Just the banner blowing away and you with Allison."

  My heart sinks. It would be so much easier if they'd perhaps seen a sinister man in a black cape with a huge bottle marked with a skull and crossbones.

  "My attorney will be interviewing you guys," I finally say. "I wish you had more to tell her."

  "What do you know about Allison?" Binny asks.

  I shrug. "Not much. We didn't really talk much, but she'd always been great. Until today." I tell them about her strange behavior.

  Nick takes out his phone and starts tapping. After a few moments he gives up.

  "Huh. You'd think that someone that interested in publicity would be easier to find on the internet. But there's no mention of her on social media."

  I run into the house and grab my laptop. The others huddle around me as I type Allison's name into several different search engines. But there's no mention of the woman. I vaguely notice Mom clearing the dishes but am more focused on finding out who'd want the singer dead.

  "Huh," I say after trying Twitter and Instagram. "She's not here at all."

  "Maybe Allison Tarawa is a stage name?" Ed suggests. He's certainly come alive.

  I tap at the keys but find nothing. "It's like she didn't exist at all before coming here."

  Andy shakes his head. "That's not like a
n artist who wants to be noticed."

  "You're right," Nick says. "So why all the fuss about not being invited to perform in front of a huge audience?"

  "What if"—I have a thought—"she wasn't really at the luau to perform? What if there's another reason and she used the argument with me as an excuse?"

  We all sit back and think about that idea. It has merit.

  "So the disagreement with you was just an act?" Binny asks.

  I nod. "I guess so. She hasn't acted like that before."

  Ed points at me. "But you just said you didn't really know her at all. Maybe she's really like the jerk she was today."

  I shove my laptop away in disgust. "We're no closer than we were a few hours ago."

  Who was Allison Tarawa? Where did she come from? Why was she here?

  "Not really," Nick says slowly. "Think about it. Allison was very insistent on playing today. How did she hear that there was a record crowd for lunch? Who told her about that?"

  "Maybe someone on staff at the resort?" Binny asks.

  "I've never seen her socialize with anyone else," I say. She just comes, does her set, and leaves. In fact, I've never heard her mention anyone on the island at all. I don't know where she lived or how she got to work."

  "So," Nick tries again. "If she wasn't really there to try to force herself into the act, why was she there?"

  "You think she was looking for someone?" Andy asks.

  "Why else would she show up?" Nick says. "Out of the blue and out of character? It doesn't make any sense at all."

  "Are you saying you are the only person she's talked to here on the island?" Ed looks at me.

  "How would I know that? She's probably talked to somebody here, but now that I think of it, I've never seen her say so much as 'excuse me' to the other performers. And no one seemed to pay any attention to her."

  In fact, I'd never seen any of the dancers or musicians even look her way. Which was odd because she so talented. Maybe she was invisible to everyone but me and the audience. That would suck. A victim who only appears to the potential killer and to the world when the "killer" is standing over her.

  I snap my fingers and grab my cell.

  "What are you doing?" Nick asks as Mom puts a Black Forest cake on the table.

  "I know someone who would know about her." I start to dial the number for Juls Kekoa, activities director.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "Nani!" Juls answers on the first ring. "Are you alright? I've been worried sick about you!"

  I really like this woman.

  "I'm back home. Thanks for sending the attorney over. I owe you one."

  "Don't mention it. I have to look out for my best musicians."

  Awwww! She said I'm one of her best musicians!

  "Well, I appreciate it."

  Everyone around the table is straining to hear, but I can't bring myself to put Juls on speakerphone. It seems like a betrayal after all she's done for me.

  "The murder was a nightmare, and this is going to make me sound like a horrible person, but every single dinner and luau for the rest of the week is overbooked, if you can believe that."

  Oh, I could believe it.

  "Sorry!" Juls says after a moment. "I'm not expecting you to come in and perform after all you've been through. You take your time. As much as you need."

  "Thanks, Juls. But I didn't know Allison, and I certainly didn't kill her. I can come in tomorrow."

  "Only if you're ready, Nani."

  I really love this woman.

  "I am curious about something though." I try to sound nonchalant and am not sure I'm nailing it. "Who was Allison Tarawa? The police kept asking me, but I didn't know her at all."

  I can practically hear Juls shrug. "I'm not sure either. I'll pull her file and…" There are muffled voices in the background. After a few moments, Juls comes back on the phone. "Sorry, Nani! There's a problem, and I have to run. Stop by my office in the morning, and I'll see what I can dig up." The line goes dead.

  I fill everyone in on what Juls said as they dig into their cake. Mom is moving around the table, filling everyone's glasses with Riesling wine. Wait. What's up with the German stuff? The wine, the cake, the secret sauce?

  "I wonder if there's a connection to the fake Ed Hopper," Nick suggests.

  "While I'm talking to Juls tomorrow"—I point at Ed this time—"you can talk to Ray about our dead man."

  Ed shakes his head slowly. "I don't know. It's fine to talk about it at dinner, but you really should leave the investigating to the professionals."

  Nick, Binny, and I exchange a meaningful look.

  "We aren't really investigating…" I say as I grasp for an excuse. "I'm just trying to build my defense case."

  I give him my most innocent look. He narrows his eyes like he's not buying it. He's smart.

  "Couldn't you offer to run the prints for the detective?" Andy asks. "You might have access to faster resources. Isn't your cousin in the Kansas State Police?"

  Ed nods. "I guess maybe I could do that…out of professional courtesy. But I don't think I can share the results with anyone but him."

  Binny sidles up to him. Her charm is so subtle he probably has no idea it's even happening. "Technically, you're on vacation. You're not on duty. So really…"

  "…you might see your way to helping out my cousin and save the day," Andy closes. He gives me a conspiratorial wink. Ah. He's figured out that Binny isn't really flirting with Ed. Good boy.

  Ed sighs and gets to his feet. "We'll see. And we should go. Thank you for the wonderful dinner, Mrs. Johnson."

  Mom nods. I notice the only thing she's been drinking all night is water. At least it looks like water. Could be vodka. Or grain alcohol. Whatever it is, she's behaving better than ever, so who am I to judge?

  "Come on, Andy. Let's go." He gives Andy a look, and my cousin joins him.

  "Thanks for dinner, Aunt Hattie!" Andy looks apologetic. "Sorry I can't help clean up."

  Mom shakes her head. "It's already in the dishwasher and halfway clean."

  Wait…what? My mom hasn't so much as rinsed out a glass since we moved here!

  When Ed disappears, Andy whispers, "I'll see what I can do." He winks and is gone.

  "Well." Mom stretches and gets to her feet. "You three stay put. Finish that cake off. I'm going to take a hot bath and hit the hay. Night!"

  We watch as she walks into the house.

  "Your mom is totally freaking me out," Nick says.

  I nod. "Me too."

  "I think maybe she's gone back to normal, somehow," Binny says wistfully. "Like the real Hattie is back. Well, what I assume to be the real Hattie. I've only known her as Hula Dancing Hallie."

  "I've got to get Dr. Chang to tell me what's going on," I say. "Maybe she got hit on the head with a coconut or something."

  Binny rises. "Well, whatever it is, I'm sure she's fine."

  My friend says good night and leaves Nick and me alone. He's already carrying the bottle of Riesling and our glasses to the wicker couch. He pats the seat for me to join him. Which I do. Snuggled there beneath the stars, with a ridiculously sweet wine, I finally loosen up a bit.

  "We haven't had much time alone," I say as I lean my head on his shoulder.

  His heartbeat is soothing, and I can feel the wine doing its work. Or maybe it's the cake. Hard to tell.

  "I'm so sorry I couldn't be more help to you," Nick says softly into my hair. "I wish I had seen the murderer. Then this would all be over."

  I sit up and look at him. "No you don't. You love this. Every minute of it."

  He smiles, and it seems to make the moon a little brighter. "I don't love that you are a suspect in a murder investigation. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intrigued by the whole thing."

  I lean back against him. "You should've been a detective instead of a botanist."

  "I kind of am. Plants try to kill each other all the time."

  "What are you talking about?" I ask as I picture a flower firing
a poisoned blow dart at a shrubbery.

  "Well, plants fight for food, water, and sunlight. They try to crowd out the competition so they have no access to the sun. Their roots try to strangle each other. So I guess you could say I'm saving plant lives every day."

  "You're kind of like the UN peacekeeping forces."

  "I prefer to think of myself as a superhero with a green cape." Nick smiles.

  "Right," I say.

  Nick starts to tell me about a particularly vicious vine he's been trying to eradicate from the golf course, and I let his words wash over me. And somewhere between the strangling vines and starving grass…I fall asleep.

  "Hey, Nani!" Juls says brightly as I pop into her office at nine thirty in the morning.

  "Did you find anything?" I ask as I sit down opposite her.

  "Not yet." She waves a file folder at me. "I'm just about to check it out."

  "I hope everything is okay from last night." I remember that she had a problem.

  Juls laughs. "We had a couple of teenagers who were so impressed with the fire twirlers that they tried it themselves."

  "Are they okay?" The men who work with fire at the luaus are trained professionals with years of practice.

  She nods. "Yeah. The bartender at The Lava Pot used a fire extinguisher on them. They're a little singed—and from the way their parents reacted, grounded forever—but fine."

  I think about how the mom I have right now would be horrified if I did that. The mom I had two days ago has probably tried it once or twice when I wasn't home.

  "Anyway…" she says as she opens the file. "Huh."

  I lean forward and try to read upside down without looking like I'm trying to read upside down.

  "Her résumé is pretty generic. In fact, I'd almost say it's a template. There's very little information about her."

  "Really?" Part of me wants to ask how someone like that got hired, but I decide not to. Juls was great at her job and right now pretty stressed out. I didn't want to add to her worries.

  "That's how it looks." She closes the file and frowns at it before opening it again.

  Juls nods but is still frowning. "She didn't really apply for the job. Allison just showed up in my office one day with a recommendation from another resort in Hilo. I needed a singer, so I hired her."