Ukulele Deadly

by Leslie Langtry

  Oh well. I pull the sausage and cheese out and start cutting it up. Adding an ice-cold bottle of beer, I lug it all to the lanai for a nice, quiet lunch. I sit on the wicker sofa and lean back, bringing the beer to my lips.

  And that's when I see it.

  The gazebo is swathed in black, red, and yellow bunting, and standing in the middle, dressed in lederhosen, is an oompah band made up of mannequins, each holding an instrument. I can't help but stare at the sight. Well, this is new. Where did she get an accordion?

  But hunger overwhelms shock, and I finish bringing the beer to my lips and take a long, satisfying drink. I take my time eating and drinking as I study the scene before me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a CD player. I hit play, and a lively polka launches. It seems to match the scene in the gazebo. I grab another beer from the fridge and sit back down on the lanai.

  An enthusiastic version of "Beer Barrel Polka" comes on, and I find myself tapping my toes to the music. My great-grandfather played tuba in a polka band and taught me how to dance. I think he was disappointed when I took up the guitar, then ukulele, instead of following in his footsteps.

  Oddly, it was relaxing sitting on the porch, listening to polka music. It took me back to Kansas, and if I closed my eyes, I could actually see Grandpa Meyer's twinkling eyes as he whirled me around the dance floor at the Knights of Columbus Hall in Felix, Kansas.

  Wow. I haven't thought about those memories in a very long time. Whether Mom knew it or not, she'd just helped relax me into a nostalgic malaise. As the afternoon passes, it feels less like Hawaii and more like Kansas. There's so much to think about and do, but it's nice to take my mind off of the murders and remember my past. Maybe I can learn a couple of German folk songs for ukulele to play for tourists? Would they like that, or would they want to escape and immerse themselves in Hawaiian culture?

  It's worth looking into. I retrieve my laptop and do a little research, downloading the music for a dozen songs. Even if the tourists wouldn't like it, I can do this just for Mom and me.

  "I wasn't expecting this!" Nick chuckles behind me, and I spin around.

  "Hey!" I hear Andy's voice from the lanai. "Guten abend!"

  Andy, Ed, and Binny join us on the lanai. Binny smiles at my cousin as he hands her a beer. I can't help but notice that these two seem completely caught up in each other. But then, I have had a few drinks. Is it possible that Binny likes him too? Should I ask her? No. They're adults. I'll let whatever is happening happen. It's probably just a vacation fling.

  We keep going until the CD runs out. Ed runs into the kitchen and returns minutes later. He's brought out the rest of the sausage and cheese and even found some rye bread. A tray full of beer beckons, and we dig in.

  "Sie sind nicht German," Andy says as he winks at Nick.

  I have no idea what he said. "Andy majored in German in college."

  Binny arches one eyebrow as she snatches a bottle of beer from the tray. "So why are you a postmaster in Kansas then?"

  Andy laughs. "Oh, I didn't really want to do anything with it. I'd always planned to live back home. I don't have much use for it, really. Except when I go to Baden once a year."

  "So." Andy points at the gazebo. "This is interesting."

  I guess he didn't help. "I just came home to find it there. Mom must've done it." I sit straight up. "Where is she anyway?"

  Nick pulls me back against him. "Mom says she went with some new friend of hers to Kapa'a. Hallie told her they were going to catch a movie and they'd be late. I don't know why she told my mother that though."

  Who knows. Mom may be using Vera Woodfield as an answering service. It's hard to say why.

  "Nani." Binny winks at me.

  Am I imagining it, or is she sitting a bit close to Andy?

  "I heard about your emcee at the luau today." Binny then proceeds to tell the group about all the things that idiot had called me.

  I feel Nick's chest tense against my back. "That's not fair. He's already condemned her!"

  "I don't think he's the only one," I add. "That idiot reporter from the Sun asked me how I managed to get the blowfish poison to kill Allison."

  The others sit up, alert.

  "How did he know about that?" Ed says finally. "He's not sure that's what the toxin was, but Detective Ray thought he was keeping that intel to himself."

  Binny shakes her head. "That's not how it works in a small town."

  Andy agrees. "Just like home."

  "Did you find out anything?" Nick asks Ed, and all heads swivel toward the policeman.

  Ed nods and sets his bottle of beer down. I'm a little buzzed and wonder if, even though he's on vacation, he can't drink while he talks about police stuff.

  "I sent the prints to my cousin in the Kansas State Police."

  "Woo-hoo!" Andy punches his friend in the arm. "Nice work!"

  Ed shakes his head. "The sad thing is, I didn't even have to work very hard to convince Ray to let me do it. He thought it was a great idea."

  Why would he agree to that? I'm sure they have the same facilities in Honolulu. But the detective is a strange guy. No matter how long I live here, I'll probably never understand him or his methods.

  "It'll be a few days before we will get the results back."

  "You're going to let us know when you do, right?" Andy asks, although it sounds more like a demand than a question.

  Ed shakes his head. "I'm not sold on the idea. I still think you should stay out of it. Official police investigations are not for amateurs."

  "I know that. And you're right. I don't want to get in the middle of this," I say.

  "You're already in the middle of it," Nick points out. "And you're the chief suspect."

  My heart sinks. He's right. I'm the Ukulele Undertaker, after all. And the Violent Virtuoso and Dangerous Diva and Magical Murderess.

  "What's a blowfish?" Andy asks, breaking my alliteration meditation.

  Everyone sort of shrugs before Ed speaks up.

  "It's a fish native to the Pacific. Its spines are laced with a toxin that will kill almost instantly."

  It wouldn't be an understatement to say we were all staring at him.

  "What?" he says.

  "How do you know about that?" I ask.

  "From Detective Ray," Ed says. "He really, really wants it to be blowfish poison."

  I frown. "How do they know that, if they can't even run fingerprints?"

  Ed shrugs. It's kind of unfair, I guess, to expect him to understand this place.

  "The coroner isn't here either. She's at a conference. They just took the body right to the fridge. There might not be an autopsy until they can get the ME from Honolulu."

  "Besides fingerprints, any other news on the fake Ed Hopper?" Binny asks.

  "The police think he was poisoned. But they don't know specifically how or what. He didn't have any ID other than my driver's license," Ed explains. "So they can't trace him that way, and as far as they can tell, he wasn't staying at the resort or anywhere else on the island."

  "What do you think?" Andy asks. "I know you can't divulge too much about the investigation here, but what about giving us your professional opinion?"

  Leave it to Andy to find a loophole. Now all we need is a suspect who confesses in German, and I'm home free.

  Ed runs his right hand through his hair. "They let me see the body as a professional courtesy. I've never seen him before. And you guys were right. He looks a lot like me."

  "How did he get your driver's license?" Nick asks.

  "That's another thing. I never take it out of my wallet. Ever. And I always have my wallet on me. This guy must've broken into my house late at night or something. But if he did, that's all he took, because nothing else was missing."

  Something buzzes in my brain—nagging me to recognize it.

  "Until I called Andy and you realized your license was gone," I say.

  Ed nods. "It's just not something I look at every day. And there weren't any fingerprints on it eit
her. This guy wore gloves or wiped it down when he transferred it to his wallet."

  I kind of felt bad for Ed. How embarrassing it must be to be a cop and have your license stolen.

  And then it hits me. "The break-in! Mom said the door to the lanai was open all night a couple of nights ago, and the next morning her pitcher of drinks had Rohypnol in it!"

  "Why would someone break into your house to drug your mom?" Andy asks.

  "Maybe to see if I knew anything?" I wonder.

  "Or they were just casing the house to rob." Ed shrugs. "It happens more than you'd think."

  Is that all it was? And if so, why does my gut tell me it's important. Someone was in my house looking for something, and they wanted Mom out of the way. They probably knew I was gone most days. I guess it could've been an attempt at robbery. But what could I possibly have that someone wanted so badly?

  The pages of my mental calendar flip back to the memory of the shadowy figure I'd seen on the night Fake Ed Hopper had died. Was it the killer? And if so, did he follow me home?

  "I saw someone…something the night I found the body in the parking lot. There was a shadow near the tree line, and I got the impression he was watching me."

  Was he planning to kill me too? Maybe he thought the dying man had really said something in my ear that night. Something that would implicate him?

  My heart stops. Maybe Allison wasn't the target. Maybe it was me?

  I rub my eyes. My imagination is running away with me. There's no reason to think any of this. It's late, and I'm tired.

  "Maybe it was Titus? Or Terry?" Nick asks. "Nani followed a new guy from work into the jungle. He was talking on the phone, angry that whoever it was had taken care of something in front of 500 people."

  "Titus Allen," I add. "The new gardener. He was acting oddly, so I followed him through the jungle to the strip mall on the other side. But I lost him. Nick suspects the new reporter at the Aloha Sun might be this guy's collaborator."

  Ed looks upset. "You shouldn't follow strange and possibly dangerous men alone, Nani. You should've told me about this right after it happened."

  "I know—you're right. We just haven't had a good relationship with the local police before."

  "Titus and Terry." Andy scratches his chin. "Ed should look them up."

  The policeman from Kansas holds out his hands to distance himself. "Oh no. I've already helped clandestinely when I sent those prints off to the mainland. I'm already stepping all over Ray's investigation."

  "You think we should tell him about this?" I ask. "We don't have anything conclusive. No hard evidence. Just what I heard and we suspect."

  "We should follow both of them," Binny says.

  "I can keep an eye on Titus," Nick suggests. "But we could follow Terry."

  "And check out the strip mall," I suggest. "I don't know which place he went into, but maybe Binny and I could do a little surveillance."

  Ed gets to his feet. "I'm staying out of this. I don't want to lose my job because I got involved in another department's investigation. I really think you should talk to the detective about this."

  We watch as he walks into the house.

  "He's right," Andy says. "But I don't think that should stop us."

  "I'm off tomorrow." Nick nods. "How about you and I do a little snooping on the reporter?"

  I think about the three businesses in the strip mall. "I've got a ukulele case I need to send to Texas for repairs. And with Mom's health issues, it wouldn't hurt to look into more insurance."

  It's feeble, I'll admit. But it's something. Besides, Binny and I could come up with a stronger case by tomorrow.

  We all agree and make plans to start Investigation Nani Is Not A Murderer.

  "It's really late." Binny looks at her watch. She gets up and gives me a hug before saying good-bye and heading through the house.

  Good idea. I could use some sleep. The others must agree, because they all get to their feet and help me carry the remains of our little German festival into the kitchen. Only Nick sticks around.

  "How are you holding up?" he asks as he sweeps me into his arms. I collapse against him.

  I shove my wild suspicions from earlier aside. "I'm tired. I think I'll just save the dishes for tomorrow and go to bed."

  Nick kisses me, and I sigh as my lips tingle. If I had the energy, I might suggest he spend the night, but I really do need some sleep. I see him to the door, locking it behind him.

  Mom isn't back, but I have a morning meeting at the Blue Hawaii with the snake couple. She's a grown woman who's just developed responsibility, so she's on her own. I barely get my clothes off before falling on the bed and falling asleep. Where I dream of a blowfish oompah band that breaks into police officers' homes to steal their wallets late at night.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "The snakes stay in the ceremony! They're the ring bearers, for Odin's sake!" A lumpy, twentysomething man shouts at us.

  I don't know why he's including Pastor Dan and me in his tirade. Neither of us has any problem with the snakes. It's Mary Lou who's holding things up. Why did Dan allow her to attend the meeting? He knows how she feels about this double wedding in particular.

  The two couples are turning red, and I fear they might pop. Dan looks like he's going to throw up. Mary Lou looks like she might go get a machete and end all of us. She'd probably even start with me.

  "Mr. Slayer." Dan stands and puts his hands on the young man's shoulders. "It's fine." He points to me. "Miss Johnson and I are fine with it. And Miss Gorman won't even be here."

  Gorman? Mary Lou's last name is Gorman? How did I not know that? Maybe I didn't think evil had a last name. I try to stifle a smile when Dan says "Mr. Slayer." That can't be his last name any more than "Mr. Beastmaster" is his friend's name. But it's not my wedding, and unless they know who killed Fake Ed and Allison, I don't care.

  Mary Lou screams wildly before charging out the front door. Her tiny Smart car attempts to roar out of the parking lot with a very quiet ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffft.

  Mr. Slayer sits down, melting into the teak-wood pew. It's weird how his body shape isn't really a shape. He's kind of like a blob that condenses when he sits. His fiancé, the very thin, very suspicious Cersei (I have my doubts about her name too), just sits up ramrod straight, her eyes darting around the room.

  The other couple isn't much different. Mr. Beastmaster looks a lot like Mr. Slayer. His fiancé is Xena. She actually doesn't look half bad. If she brushed her hair and dressed like she lives in the twenty-first century, she'd pass as human. It's the leather bodice and thigh-high boots that trip me up.

  When Dan introduced the couples, he very specifically gave me only the men's last names and only the women's first names. I wonder if Slayer is like Madonna, but with Gandalf's staff instead of a cone bra. But I don't ask because who am I to judge? The only concern I have is how do you keep a ring on a snake? Won't it just slide off?

  "The snakes are fully trained," Cersei speaks for the first time, and I'm worried she has the ability to read minds.

  How do you train a snake? I'm finally thinking I'll break my silence to ask, but the others all nod confidently, as if they, too, were convinced you could, in fact, train a cylindrical, legless reptile to hold on to a circular piece of metal.

  Pastor Dan, resplendent today in his 1950s Elvis suit and skinny tie, stands and rubs his hands together.

  "I guess that's all we need. And, uh." He looks toward the door, maybe to make sure Mary Lou isn't trudging up the aisle with a blowgun filled with blowfish poison. "I'll talk to my colleague. She will not be at the ceremony, and you won't have to deal with her anymore. I do apologize for her behavior."

  Slayer looks at the other three, who nod. He turns back to Dan. "Can you wear the outfit Elvis was wearing when he died?"

  If he's startled by the question, he doesn't show it. Instead, Pastor Dan shakes his head. "No one knows what he was wearing when he died, son."

  The four nod as if they
already knew this. Then all four, simultaneously as if their heads are all connected to the same wires, turn to look at me.

  "Oh!" I jump to my feet. "I'm totally fine with your, um, snake wedding!" I paste on a huge smile that hopefully says I'm reptile friendly.

  The four seem to be satisfied with my proclamation and follow Dan to the door. I follow along because I don't know what else to do. Slayer and Cersei disappear through the door with Dan, followed by Beastmaster, but Xena lingers. She turns to me, intensely studying every pore.

  "You're the Ukulele Undertaker, right?"

  I'm really not sure how to answer that. So I shrug. Now, why did I do that?

  "That's cool. I'm glad we have you playing our wedding."

  "Don't you mean weddings?" I say quickly to get her off the subject of me being a killer.

  "Actually," Xena says, "it's a pod wedding. So only one."

  "Um, okay…" I try to act like I know what she's saying. But the only things I know about pods is they're made up of whales, have aliens in them, or are where you store your stuff. I'm pretty sure she doesn't mean any of them.

  "Wear what you wore when you murdered that singer."

  She walks out before I can insist, once again, that I didn't kill Allison or anyone else. I don't follow them outside. Who knows what these people will say next? Instead, I wait for Dan to return.

  Okay, maybe I can understand Mary Lou's aversion to these people…a little bit. And what's with their obsession with death? And if I wear the dress I wore when Allison died, is that an admission of guilt? I'm sure Ray would think so.

  I shake my head to clear it and focus on my surroundings.

  I love this chapel. Situated on a cliff overlooking the ocean, in spite of its Elvis-y peccadillos, the chapel is lovely and simple…except when someone pays for the Blue Suede Special. Then, I have to admit, it's a bit over the top. I'll bet it never occurred to anyone that there's such a thing as too much blue suede. There is.