Ukulele Deadly

by Leslie Langtry

  Ray considers this. So that's something at least.

  The epinephrine pen pops into my head, and I have an epiphany. I remember the inhaler I'd found in my pocket. And I remember what Allison used just before she was going to take over the stage—minutes before she died.

  "I know how the killer did it…"

  Ray looks triumphant, and I give him a look.

  "Not because I did it. I just figured out how he did it." I almost don't tell him. But this is too good to pass up, so I do.

  "John Gilligan was killed when he used a nasal inhaler for his sinuses. Only instead of medicine, it was cyanide. Allison always used an asthma inhaler just before she went onstage. Again, instead of medicine, it contained cyanide. And Terry Flynn's injector also contained cyanide."

  I push myself back from the table and say, "BOOM!"

  Ray frowns. "You might be onto something there."

  Really? "So all you have to do is test the nebulizer and the pen, and I'll bet you'll find how they were killed."

  I have to admit, it's a really good theory. To be honest, I can't believe I thought of it. But I do know that Ray didn't think of it, and that's something.

  "I'll check with Dr. Yoshida. She's been working on these murders all day."

  "If they inhaled cyanide, she'll probably find evidence of that in their nasal tissue. And for Terry Flynn at the site of his injection!"

  I don't even have to tell him about me finding and kind of hiding key evidence! Brilliant! Of course, that doesn't absolve me of this armadillo mailing scheme…

  I wait for the detective to heap tons of praise upon me. Maybe I'll get a plaque or something. A get-out-of-jail card for the rest of my life would be nice. But the man says nothing. He just sits there.

  "Am I under arrest?" I have to get out of here. "Do you have enough evidence to hold me?"

  "No. You are not under arrest. No. We don't have any hard evidence. But we will."

  I'm out the door before he can change his mind. Somehow I get lucky because there are no groupies waiting for me in the parking lot.

  Calling my cousin as I drive, I tell him I'm coming to his room at the resort. I need him to get Real Ed there. There has to be one sane policeman helping me out on this island.

  Moments later, I'm knocking on the door. Andy lets me in, and I'm overwhelmed by the size of the room.

  "Is this a suite?" I ask, but that's an understatement.

  The set of rooms are lush and lead out onto a private beach. This isn't even the bridal suite. More like the presidential suite. What's a small-town mailman and a small-town cop doing in a room this expensive?

  "How can you afford to stay here?" I ask as Andy shuts the door behind me.

  "I had some money saved up and wanted to do this trip right. And Ed and I are splitting it."

  He motions for me to sit on the nicest couch in the history of couches. Ed comes in from the lanai and sits across from me. Andy stays standing. A laptop is open to YouTube. Everyone has their own way to decompress, I suppose.

  How does Andy have enough money for a week in a huge suite? He spent his savings buying the farm from us two years ago. Maybe being postmaster is more lucrative than I thought.

  "What's up?" he asks.

  Something seems a little off. My gut is twisting. But that might just be because I'm a complete and utter mess because I've been accused by the police of yet another crime.

  "Detective Ray thinks you and I are criminal masterminds. I wanted Ed here to see that we aren't."

  My cousin frowns. "Criminal masterminds? What are you talking about?"

  I fill them both in on the insane theory. It's so hot in here. Do they not have the air conditioning on? I can't seem to stop sweating. As I wrap up, Ed's eyes seem to be bugging out of his head. Of course he sees through that ridiculous idea. He's a real cop. When Ray is proven wrong, maybe he'll retire and Ed can move here and take over. That makes me feel a little better.

  Andy, on the other hand, has a strange, undecipherable look on his face. He says nothing. I can understand that. This is the most absurd thing I've ever heard. Who'd think you could come to Hawaii and be arrested on some trumped-up harebrained story?

  "What did he say exactly?" Andy asks very slowly.

  That's when I notice that Ed has gotten to his feet and the two men are staring intently at each other. What's happening?

  "Just what I said, exactly how I said it. Now, he didn't have an answer for why I would kill the reporter. But in reality, he'll probably say Terri Flynn was too close to the truth and I offed him."

  I'm babbling, but it seems like Andy and Ed aren't listening. It feels like my backbone is filled with ice-cold water. Something is wrong. Both men seem to be hyperalert. I wish Ed would stop that. He isn't buying this about Andy, is he? Granted, he's new to Felix and doesn't know him, but every single person in town would vouch for my cousin.

  Andy would never do something like that.

  Would he?

  "Things aren't always what they seem, Nani," Andy says tightly.

  "What are you saying?" My eyes keep going to the laptop for some reason.

  "It's alright, Nani," Ed says calmly.

  Oh my God. The policeman thinks Andy really is a taxidermied-armadillo smuggler! That's impossible! It's absurd!

  Isn't it?

  It can't be true. I'm so sick of things being other than what they are supposed to be. First Mom turns into something unrecognizable. Then I find out Dan really can't function without the shrew Mary Lou. Then Allison turns out to be an FBI agent. And Fake Dead Ed goes from being a murdered cop to a murdered criminal.

  Is it possible that Andy isn't what he seems either?

  I have no idea what to do in a situation like this. My stomach is churning, and my palms are clammy. I'm out of my depth here and could really use an actor stepping forward to say that I'm the victim of an oddly complicated prank.

  I look at my cousin and see that he's furious. His cheeks and neck are flaming red. I haven't really seen him in years and never like this. Has he changed? How could he afford this expensive suite? And why didn't I know he was staying here? Did I just out him to the police?

  I look at Ed. He's the epitome of calm. That's nice. At least someone is exactly as he seems.

  Exactly as he seems.

  My eyes go again toward the laptop screen, and I realize it's the video of my performance the day Allison was killed. I enlarge the screen and hit play. It starts just a few minutes before the show started. And there's something there, that if I'd checked this video out earlier would've cracked this case wide open.

  An explosion goes off in my head as all the puzzle pieces fall into place. Why didn't I see it before? It was right under my nose with three million hits!

  And that's when Andy lunges at Ed and they begin to struggle. Punches are thrown. The coffee table is smashed. I dial 9-1-1 and give the police the address.

  A vase is broken. The flowers are ground into the pristine carpet.

  As I get to my feet, I text Nick and Binny to come to Andy's room immediately.

  A fist goes through a wall, and a mirror is busted. The men continue to struggle as I look around for a weapon. Because if the wrong guy loses before the cavalry arrives, I'm in trouble. One of the legs of the smashed coffee table will do, and I scoop it up.

  Words are grunted, but I can't tell who they are coming from. Stuff like I trusted you and I'm going to kill you. I just stand there holding the table leg in a defensive position, trying to figure out what to do. For someone who's been accused of murder so much and now of being a smuggler, I sure am clueless.

  Sirens cry out in the distance, and I move to open the door. I don't care if they bust it down. I just want them in here to stop this as soon as possible.

  "Nani!" Nick shouts from outside.

  "In here!" I cry out.

  Nick joins me wearing his Aloha Resort polo shirt and khakis. Hopefully he solved the flower emergency. That's how he got here so fast. Did
he call hotel security? In my haste I'd forgotten about them. Should I call them now?

  Two uniformed policemen rush through the door and pull the two bloodied, snarling men apart.

  "Arrest that man!" I'm shaking but still able to point out the bad guy. "He's responsible for all three murders!"

  The policeman doesn't hesitate as he slaps the cuffs on Ed Hopper.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Down at the station for the second time in one day, Detective Ray hands me a cold bottle of water. I accept and guzzle it down. Nick wraps the blanket they'd given me for shock tightly around my shoulders as if he's never letting go. Binny sits on my left, clutching my hand. She looks worried. I know what she's wondering about.

  "Andy?" I croak. I'm spent. But I want to know where my cousin is.

  "At the hospital getting looked over," Ray says as he sits down. "He might have a broken nose. I've got an officer outside his room until I hear what you have to say. He's not out of the woods as far as I'm concerned."

  I nod. From the fight I just witnessed, he's lucky he isn't in worse shape.

  "Now then. Do you want to tell me why I have a cop from Kansas locked up in my cell instead of your cousin?"

  I nod and take a deep breath. "He's not a cop. He's the real Fake Ed."

  Everyone stares at me.

  "He's John Gilligan! The real Ed is the dead one. He and Allison were partners in the FBI. Fake Live Ed never had his license stolen because it wasn't his in the first place. It belonged to Real Dead Ed, who was just about to go undercover as an officer in Felix."

  They are still confused.

  "I know it sounds muddled. But I'm right. Take Fake Live Ed's fingerprints. They'll be the same as the ones he claimed he sent to the authorities on the mainland. The ones you sent to Honolulu."

  "So Andy isn't…" Binny asks.

  I shake my head. "Andy is completely innocent. When I asked how they could afford such a large suite, I think it all clicked into place for him. He knew he'd been duped, and that Real Live Ed was really Fake Dead Ed, who was going to use his job to smuggle dead armadillos to Kauai."

  "Okay," Nick says. "My head is spinning. Let's call everyone who they really are. So John Gilligan was in Felix with Andy when you called. Right after the death of Agent Ed Hopper," Nick said slowly. "Who killed Ed?"

  "Terry Flynn. I think. My guess is he was Gilligan's partner. There has to be a reason why we couldn't find any reporter online named Terry Flynn. He must've been hired with fake credentials and was using the paper as a cover to keep tabs on me." I stop to take another swig of water.

  "John Gilligan then came here with Andy. Once here, he was probably confronted by Allison, and he killed her. I think she came to the lunch luau because she saw John Gilligan sitting at a table down front. Maybe she was at the resort anyway and saw him walk by and followed him to the luau. That's why she was so agitated, I think. Because she saw him. I'm not really sure, and we can't ask her because she's dead."

  "Then Gilligan killed Terry to tie up any loose ends or deal with a partner he didn't trust. And he almost got away with it."

  "How did you figure it out?" Nick asks. He's smiling. He's proud of me.

  "I knew beyond a reasonable doubt that Andy was innocent. I know that sounds stupid. But it's intuition, and I stand by it." I turn to Ray. "Fingerprint Gilligan. You'll see."

  I pull out my cell and pull up the video on YouTube. Holding it so Ray can see, I hit play.

  "I don't know why I didn't look this up when you first told me about it. Probably because you said it didn't show me murdering Allison. But I saw it on Andy's laptop at the hotel, and something was wrong."

  I wait until he sees it. Then I turn it and show it to Binny and Nick.

  "Whoever took this video started filming before the luau. And inadvertently he filmed this, probably from a balcony, because it's such a wide shot."

  John Gilligan and Andy are sitting at the front table, chatting. Andy gets up and walks over to Binny, who has just arrived. John gets up and looks around. He pulls an asthma inhaler from his pocket and walks over to one of the dancers. They exchange a few words, and he hands the inhaler to her. She goes backstage. He goes back to his seat.

  "There was cyanide in aerosol form in that asthma inhaler. I think he told the dancer that a woman fitting Allison's description dropped it. And that's the same dancer who came up to Allison and me backstage to give her the nebulizer. Two witnesses. That's how he killed her. And the real Ed was killed with a cyanide in a sinus spray bottle."

  "What are you talking about?" Binny asks after a moment of what I hope is appreciative silence.

  "Oh. I didn't tell anyone about that." I fill everyone in on the sinus medication I'd found in my pocket after Ed Hopper died. The inhaler that was stolen during the break-in the next day. "It's out there somewhere, maybe in Flynn's stuff. But I'd be willing to bet it's full of hydrogen cyanide too.""

  "Why didn't you tell us about this before?" Detective Ray grumbles.

  "I honestly didn't think it was important. With everything else going on, sinus medicine didn't seem like a clue. But the break-in and drugging Mom now makes sense. Flynn roofied Mom so she wouldn't wake up when he broke in. He broke in to retrieve the sinus inhaler that he saw Ed Hopper shove into my pocket as he died."

  Mom pops into my head, and I flinch. Nick tightens his grip out of concern, but I shake my head. Tomorrow I'll find out what's really going on with her. Then we can do whatever we need to make sure she has a great quality of life.

  "We'll check John Gilligan out," Ray says.

  It's the closest thing to saying I'm right, and I'll take it.

  "I still don't want you to leave the island. Just in case you're wrong."

  "Okay" is all I have to say to that.

  Mom's asleep when we get home, and I don't wake her. After Nick and Binny ask me for the one thousandth time if I'm alright, I kick them out. Binny wants to go check on Andy, and Nick offers to take her. I want to go too, but I think Andy will understand.

  After all, I'd believed in him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  When I wake up the next morning, Mom is gone again. She's left a note that just says she'll be back. I take a long hot shower and get ready for my appointment with Dr. Chang.

  I drive to his office as slowly as possible. It isn't that I'm not ready to hear what's wrong with my mother. Well actually, it is that. I throw on my sweater and walk into his freezing-cold office. After a few minutes the nurse calls me back to the private office. Dr. Chang smiles as he shakes my hand and tells me not to sit just yet. I'm a complete wreck. I just want to get this over with so Mom and I can move forward.

  He leads me to the large light board on the wall and turns it on. Then he slides two x-rays into the slot.

  "What am I looking at here?" I'm terrible at stuff like this. It just looked like a bunch of white and black blobs.

  Dr. Chang looks at me and then at the x-rays, and turns the light board off. He probably realizes that I've had enough drama for the past few days. So we sit.

  "A few weeks ago I noticed some anomalies in your mother's bloodwork when you had it taken to find out if she'd been drugged. I took some x-rays."

  I'm confused. "When did you take x-rays? I didn't bring her here."

  "A friend of hers brought her. She didn't want to worry you."

  I need to send Vera some flowers. What a saint. I'd be willing to bet she didn't tell Nick either. She was looking out for me as well as Mom.

  "The first x-rays showed a blockage in one of her arteries."

  "Oh no," I barely whisper. I know what a stroke is. Dad had one a few weeks before he died.

  "She came back two days ago, and we took another x-ray. And I'm happy to say that the blockage isn't there anymore. It's completely disappeared. In fact, your mother is fine."

  "So the weird behavior, that was from the blockage?" Mom is fine! Yay!

  Dr. Chang shrugs. "I'm not a brain specialist. But it's possible."


  For the second time in twenty-four hours, I feel like a crushing weight has been removed from my shoulders. Mom is fine. But which fine would she be? June Cleaver Mom or Crazy Island Mom?

  I rise. "Thanks, Doctor!"

  Aside from my cracking the case wide open, this is the best news ever.

  Back at home I open the front door to find a dozen or so cardboard cutouts of Star Wars Stormtroopers, all wearing leis and grass skirts, staring at me. How did she do this so fast? I wasn't gone more than twenty or thirty minutes.

  "Nani!" Mom shrieks.

  She's dressed in a T-shirt. My T-shirt. And I don't mean that she borrowed one from me. She's wearing one of the Ukulele Undertaker shirts.

  "Mom! What…why are you…arrgh!" I can't make my mouth work. But then I realize, of course she bought one of the shirts, and give up. Just go with it is my new motto, remember?

  She ignores my outburst, a cocktail in her hand. "I thought we'd celebrate."

  "Sounds perfect," I say as I follow her to the kitchen.

  After guzzling down something frosty with a pink parasol and more rum than I think is legal, I ask her how she found out about the tests.

  "What tests?" She frowns.

  "Dr. Chang. The tests." She looks confused, and I'm not in the mood to try to explain, so I drop it. "So what are we celebrating?"

  "We are celebrating that you don't have to go to jail because you roofied me!"

  I sigh. "Well, there was considerably more to it than that. But okay." I decide to leave out the fact that Terry Flynn roofied her. It would just confuse things.

  She drains her glass and fills it up again from the blender's pitcher.

  "So what did you think?" she asks.

  There were an endless number of possibilities. So I ask, "About what?"

  She rolls her eyes. "About my masquerade?"

  I set my glass down. "I'm lost. What are you talking about?"

  "I was undercover to help you! To prove you innocent."