Ukulele Deadly

by Leslie Langtry

  Is that all it took to work here? I should've applied two years ago. I was just too intimidated by the other talent. And I was blamed for their deaths too. I'm kind of a walking time bomb of murder.

  "I don't usually do that," Juls continues.

  "You wouldn't hire her unless you had a good reason. And Allison had a killer voice." I wince at the word killer.

  Juls closes the folder and stares off into space. "I'm sorry I can't be more help, Nani. I've got a lot on my plate right now."

  I agree and stand. "Not a problem. Thanks for what you've told me. If you think of anything else—please let me know."

  Juls walks me to the door, but I can see she's distracted. "Done."

  As I leave, she's still frowning. I hope I haven't caused a problem for her.

  I'm free for another two hours, so I head to the golf course to surprise Nick. Spending the few minutes we had alone together last night made me think. With my cousin in town, the investigation, dead people all over the place, and Mom's trip down Leave It to Beaver Lane, Nick and I haven't had any time together when we weren't discussing murder.

  That's not good. I haven't had a lot of experience with romance, but I do know that a relationship, like the plants on his golf course, can be strangled by inattention, let alone the constant threat of homicide. See what I did there?

  I'm going to book us a trip to Maui or one of the other islands. In fact, on my way back through the lobby, I'm going to stop at Gabby's Island Adventures and see if Gabby has any ideas. That would be perfect.

  Nick is standing at the putting green, frowning at a plant. It's pretty adorable. And it's pretty awesome because otherwise I'd have to steal a golf cart and search all eighteen holes for him. It's a bit warm to walk all that way.

  Dressed in the Aloha Lagoon Resort uniform of khakis and a polo shirt, with his thick, dark, curly hair and trim beard—he looks like the best thing in Kauai. Maybe on Earth.

  "Hey!" I call out, and he looks up. I'm rewarded with his toe-curling smile.

  "I didn't expect to see you so soon." Nick's eyes are warm, and I feel embraced, even if I'm not actually embraced.

  I fill him in on what Juls said about Allison.

  "What do you think about that?" I ask.

  Nick looks unsure. "She just came out of nowhere?"

  I shake my head. "I thought she was Hawaiian born and bred."

  "Did Juls say which resort in Hilo?" Nick grins.

  "You think we should take a little trip…"

  He nods. "I think we should take a little trip."

  "But I can't leave. Remember? It would be very suspicious if I suddenly ran off to the Big Island."

  Nick thinks about this.

  "I'll go. I can do it in one day. They've got some trees I'd like to check out for this place."

  I'm not so sure about this. "I don't think I should squeeze Juls for any more information. I don't want to get her in trouble."

  "I'll see what I can find out." My boyfriend looks around and then kisses me on the forehead.

  "Is something wrong?"

  Nick looks more distracted than usual. "I've got a new groundskeeper. He doesn't seem to know anything about plants, and he's never around when I need him."

  A tingle runs down the length of my spine. "What's with all these new, mysterious employees at the resort?"

  Nick points to his left, and I see a man weeding. "That's him. It's like he just showed up and decided to try something new."

  The man gets to his feet and stares down at the ground.

  "You hired him, didn't you?"

  "I did. And I think I made a mistake." Nick's cell buzzes, and he takes the call. After a few moments he hangs up.

  "I've got to run. The new flowers are here, and I need to get them into the ground."

  Nick races for the main building, but I turn to look at the new guy. He's also on his cell. Something is wrong about him. He looks out of place. As if he's an actor in the wrong costume in a play he wasn't cast in. The guy hangs up and races off into the jungle that surrounds the resort. That's weird.

  I look at my watch. I have some time before I need to be at the lunch luau. Maybe I could just follow him a little. It's probably nothing, but this guy is up to something, and I'd like to know what.

  There's a slight trail that leads into the thick stand of trees. Peering ahead, I see a glimpse of him, still on the move. I'll have to be careful. The last thing I want to do is get caught by stepping on a twig. I slip in between the trees and follow him.

  It doesn't make much sense. This jungle leads off the property. On the other side of these trees is a parking lot to a strip mall. Why would he go there? It's almost lunchtime, but there aren't any restaurants anywhere near it.

  I work my way through the trees, stepping gingerly over the ground cover. I stop short when I realize he's just on the other side of the next tree.

  "What the hell are you doing!" a male voice shouts, and I freeze in my tracks.

  Has he seen me? What should I do? My mind races for an innocent excuse but comes up with nothing.

  "You were supposed to stick to the plan! We were going to take care of this quietly. But you decided to do it in front of five hundred people!"

  I start breathing again. He's not talking to me.

  "I'm heading there now. Meet me later." The call must have ended, because he's on the move again.

  This time, I stay further back. Something tells me this man is very dangerous. I think he was talking about Allison's murder! Slow down, Nani. You don't know that.

  The jungle ends just a few yards ahead. Hiding behind a tree, I watch as he starts to cross the parking lot. I can't see anything yet, so I move closer to the edge of the tree line. Nick's mystery employee breaks into a light jog toward the strip mall.

  I know very little about this place. It just went up a month ago. Out of the five offices, only three have been claimed. Two are insurance companies, and the other is a mailing center. One of those places where you take a package to get shipped or rent a PO Box. As far as I know, the other two office suites are empty.

  Unfortunately, this guy isn't being very helpful by walking into the front door of one of the suites. He heads around back instead. The moment he disappears, I race to the corner and press myself up against the wall. Taking a deep breath, I peek around the corner. He's gone.

  I want to linger, to see which storefront he comes out of, but I have to get changed for the lunch luau, so I walk up to the sidewalk and begin my trek back to the resort without having to traipse through the dense foliage.

  What did I just hear? My mind pieces the words together. It sounded like this guy is angry that whoever killed Allison did it in front of a large audience. That it was supposed to be done quietly with no witnesses.

  Who was Allison Tarawa? And why did this guy and whomever he was on the phone with try to kill her? And what office did this guy go into? Is it the killer's headquarters? Did this guy murder the man who impersonated Ed? The parking lot where it happened is just on the other side of these trees. And I did see a shadowy figure lurking near the jungle that night.

  In spite of the warm weather and the sun on my skin, I shiver a little. Did he see me? Does he know I overheard the phone call? In spite of my fear, I have to admit I'm a little excited about my snooping.

  The moment my foot lands on Aloha Lagoon Resort grounds, I relax a little. It feels safe. Well, safer. My cell buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see the alarm going off. I only have minutes before I go onstage at the luau. Breaking into a run, I race to the dressing room.

  It's getting late. Fortunately, no one else is there. It's just going to be the hula dancers and me today. I feel bad about missing last night's show, but I couldn't really leave Detective Ray's interrogation room to run off and play at the very place where I'd allegedly murdered another performer only a few hours earlier.

  Yet here I was backstage, in the exact same spot where I was twenty-four hours ago. I'd be lying if I sai
d I wasn't nervous, due to the murder and what I just overheard. Does it look bad for me to perform? I shake off those concerns. There's no time to back out now. I sneak a peek at the crowd. Another blowout audience.

  Maybe I should do a little apology at the beginning of my set? Perhaps I should just say I didn't kill anyone. This is a quandary I've never dealt with before. What's the proper etiquette?

  I really should've canceled my performances for a bit. Of course I realize this too late as I hear the announcer and the hula dancers run past me off the stage. To their credit, no one gives me a weird look. That's something at least.

  "And now, ladies and gentlemen—the act I know you're all here to see!"

  Oh great. It's the Oaf.

  Wait a minute… They're all here to see me?

  "Our own Dangerous Diva, the Violent Virtuoso, the Ukulele Undertaker…"

  Am I being introduced by the World Wrestling Federation? I should walk out and smash a chair over his head. He'd never do that again, I'd be willing to bet.

  Hey! Terry—that weaselly reporter from the Aloha Sun—had also called me the Ukulele Undertaker. Was that in the paper? And worse yet, the Oaf who introduces me is implying I'm the murderer! This was insane! Well, at least he didn't say "magical"…

  "…the Magical Murderess…"

  I stand corrected.

  "Nani Johnson!"

  The crowd cautiously applauds, and for a moment it paralyzes me. People are so morbid. They must think they are safe in the crowd. And they get bragging points when they go back home to the mainland and say they saw me play.

  I toy with running away. Getting out of here. Hell, even checking into jail. But I'm a professional, and the show must go on. It's the least I can do for Juls, considering I told her I could do my job.

  Holding my head high, without a hint of a smile on my face, I slowly walk onstage and give the audience a little bow. The mic stands there like it expects me to say something, and I'm struggling with what. And the resort probably doesn't want me to bring it up anyway.

  I do the only thing I can. I start strumming my acacia-wood concert ukulele and begin to play. It's a piece I've done a thousand times. And yet for some reason, I can't bring myself to sing. So I keep playing like I'm stuck in a crazy loop.

  It's not a piece that lends itself to music only. And I'm worried the audience will figure this out and start booing or throwing pineapples at me (what do you think they'd throw in Hawaii? Tomatoes?). But my mouth won't open. It's cemented shut with fear and regret. I really should've taken Juls up on her offer to take time off.

  Someone is singing behind me. Three of the hula dancers have moved to the front of the stage and begin harmonizing the song I'm playing. Their soft, sweet voices combined with the lovely rhythm of the Hawaiian language is hypnotic. The women start to sway, and I'm almost in tears. How generous these ladies are! I recognize two of them, Pia and Lorna. I've talked to them many times back stage. I don't know the third, but in my book she is now an angel.

  I play more forcefully now, and the ladies sing louder to match my intensity. It's a simple yet lovely song, and when we are done, the audience is captivated. It takes a second before they burst into loud applause and whistling. Pia looks back at me and winks. I wonder if I can get her and the other two canonized. Maybe Pastor Dan can do it. Probably dressed as Elvis.

  Raising my eyebrows at her, she nods imperceptibly and turns back to the crowd. I start to play "Aloha O'e." I'm not going to do a long set. This will be my last song today. I'll let Juls know I just can't do the evening luau. I'm sure she'll understand.

  This time the ladies move a few feet apart from each other and start dancing as they sing. I play softer so the women can be heard. It's a dazzling effect on the audience. And a relief to me. As the song draws to a close, the ladies step back together and harmonize on the last few words. I drop my ukulele to my side and give a brief bow.

  As the ladies thank the crowd, I slip backstage. I'm shaking. This was a huge mistake. One of the drummers appears with a chair and has me sit. Another one has a glass of cold water, and I drink.

  "Thank you," I say.

  Pia, Lorna, and the other woman, whose name I discover is Effie, all walk over to me.

  "I can't thank you enough!" I tell them in a shaky voice. "I don't think I could've finished…"

  "We know you didn't kill Allison," Lorna says as she pats me on the shoulder."

  "You do?" I croak.

  Pia nods. "It's not in your nature, Nani."

  I stare at them as they exit with the other dancers and drummers. I really, really, really love Hawaii. I sit backstage until I know the audience has cleared out. And then I get up and walk back toward the main building. It feels like I'm going to collapse at every step. But I don't. I manage to change out of my dress and back into shorts and a polo shirt. I'm about to make a quick getaway to my car when I hear it.

  "Ms. Johnson!" a man shouts, and I stupidly stop and turn around.

  "Terry Flynn, Aloha Sun." Again?

  Why does he say the name of the paper almost every time he accosts me? Does he think I'll forget the name of the only newspaper within thirty miles?

  "Mr. Flynn," I say as I hold my hand up. "I really don't have time right now…"

  "Just one question. That's all," the man pleads.

  I sigh heavily. The question will probably be Did you do it, and who will you murder next?

  "Fine. One question." I fold my arms over my chest, which isn't easy to do while holding a ukulele. But I hope I look menacing. Yet another thing that's hard to do when holding a diminutive instrument.

  Flynn nods eagerly. He's very excited. "I just want to know…" He pauses for dramatic effect.

  My eyes narrow. Why did I agree to even talk to him? I wait for the insult I know will come.

  "Where did you get the blowfish poison?"

  Um…what?

  I stand gaping at the man as if he'd sprouted three heads. Apparently he thinks I'm hard of hearing, because he steps closer to me and asks the same question a little louder.

  "Blowfish poison? I'm confused. What would I need blowfish poison for?"

  Flynn frowns like I'm an idiot. "That's the toxin that you used to kill Allison Tarawa." His eyes seem to say duh!

  "Allison was killed with blowfish poison? Are you sure? Where did you hear that? Have the police released that information?" I pepper him with questions, and he starts to back up. I press forward. "Is that what the police are saying? Blowfish poison? How do you extract it? And once you do, how do you use it?"

  He stops backing up, and his eyes grow round. "Are you saying you didn't know?"

  I nod. "Not only did I not know, I didn't kill Allison."

  Flynn frowns as he flips through his notebook. Then he closes it. "I'll be in touch."

  Then the man turns and runs away from me. Hopefully I've just proven to him I didn't do it. I guess that makes me less story-worthy. Good.

  Nick appears, a worried look on his face. "What happened? I heard about the performance and came to see if you're alright."

  "Blowfish poison," I repeat under my breath.

  "What?" Nick really looks concerned now.

  "That's what killed Allison. Maybe someone used a blowgun or something, and that's what killed her." I've seen movies where blowfish-poisoned darts killed people. Blowfish poison in a blow dart. While that might clear me—since there's no proof I've ever bought it, nor did I have a blowgun—it still doesn't put us any closer to finding out who the killer is.

  "I have something to tell you." I take a deep breath to calm myself. "It's about the new groundskeeper—Titus."

  Nick listens as I tell him about following his employee through the jungle and what he said to someone on the phone.

  "You could have been killed!" Nick says. "I'm going to fire him."

  "No, don't." An idea slips into my thoughts. "We will lose him if you do that. In fact, you should get to know him a little better."

  My boyf
riend is silent, but I think he knows that I'm right. If he fires Titus, we won't be able to track his movements.

  "Okay," Nick agrees, but he still looks worried. "He's our number one suspect. Along with Terry Flynn."

  "Really? Terry Flynn? You think he's in on this?" I'm a little embarrassed that it hadn't occurred to me.

  "He's new here. And he's very eager to accuse you of all this. He's practically stalking you."

  I play devil's advocate. "This is the only story in Aloha Lagoon right now. Isn't that what he's supposed to do?"

  "Yes," Nick reasons. "But isn't it strange that he just shows up in Aloha Lagoon? That he knows about the blowfish poison? And he always seems to be where you are?"

  He's right. We can't rule Flynn out as a suspect.

  "That might be who Titus was talking to on the phone."

  Nick nods. "Exactly. I think we need to keep an eye on both of them."

  I shudder a little, remembering Titus's conversation. "Okay. We'll need a plan to pull this off."

  Nick agrees. "I'll come over later. We can get Binny and the others in on this too. I don't really want you following strange and possibly dangerous men out into the jungle alone anymore."

  That's good. Because I don't want to follow any dangerous men alone again either.

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Mom!" I shout as I walk into the foyer of the house. "I'm ho…"

  I don't finish that thought. The foyer is awash in German flags and giant beer steins. I count about a dozen before I give up. Where does she get this stuff so quickly? Is she shopping online and having it sent overnight? I add tracing Mom's online activities to the list that includes going through her bank account.

  "Mom?" I walk through the house, checking all the rooms and the lanai.

  My mother isn't here. I guess this is better, seeing how she's embracing her real heritage. But have I traded one crazy mother for another?

  I'll worry about that later. I open the fridge to find something to eat and pull up short. There's a case of Hefeweizen beer and every kind of sausage you can imagine, from knackwurst to Landjäger (I know German sausages almost as much as I do ukulele music). A huge block of Tilsit cheese sits among the bottles, like the fridge is having a little Oktoberfest celebration.