Mayhem on the Orchid Isle (Maui Mayhem Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by Aysia Amery

  With my arms outstretched, I pushed her toward the end of the hallway, out of the men’s earshot.

  “I was eavesdropping.”

  “I could see that.”

  Okay, I deserved her snarky remark.

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on me when I’m doing so. I could’ve let out a yelp, and then we’d be in big trouble if they heard me.”

  “Why? Who were you eavesdropping on?”

  “Let’s go back to our room before they come out and see us,” I told her.

  Once back where we couldn’t be heard, I told her the story the two men shared.

  “Wow. It sounds like a cover-up of some kind. That could cause a scandal if it ever came out. I wonder who they were talking about. The family, I mean.”

  “Yeah, I’d like to know that too. There’s definitely something strange going on here. When we were on the horseback excursion, Jenn told me she was in love with a guy who had an accident on this very day twenty years ago. I wonder if it’s the same accident those two were talking about.”

  “Which one is Jenn now?” Jemma asked.

  “The woman who works at the engineering firm.”

  “And which one is that?”

  Sigh. Jemma’s memory never computed names and faces very well.

  “I’ll point her out when we’re back with the group. Nothing else I describe will probably trigger your recollection, so I’m not about to waste my time with that right now.”

  “You can be so impatient sometimes,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry.” She knew me long enough to know that about me. But she also knew I was right. Even if I described what the woman wore, Jemma still wouldn’t connect the dots.

  Jemma’s eyes suddenly popped out of her sockets like Peter Lorre’s. “Oh my god. Do you think everyone here has something to do with that accident, and the person who invited them here is going to play out Agatha Christie’s novel on them?”

  That thought had occurred to me. But I didn’t want to believe it could be true.

  “Nah. What are the chances that we’re in the middle of a slaughter plot?”

  “Yeah,” she said with a laugh. But that laugh quivered with a lack of confidence.

  Our eyes met, and she knew I was full of BS.

  “Ginger, we need to get into that library and see if there’s a Menehune missing.” Jemma bit her bottom lip and frowned.

  “When the time is right, we’ll do more snooping. Until then, we should find out who’s in those photos.”

  “What photos?” she asked.

  Oh, yeah, right, I didn’t tell her about those yet.

  “Maile pointed to two children in a photo on the wall in the hallway upstairs,” I told her.

  “So there is something going on here. Your sister doesn’t just show up for nothing. Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”

  “It slipped me. I was busy telling you about the lawyer and politician’s conversation, and then spent a fair amount of time prompting your memory about Jenn. But you still couldn’t get it—”

  “Oh, so blame it on me, then.”

  I laughed.

  “Hey, you’re my assistant. I’m your boss. I get to blame you for our troubles,” I teased.

  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” Jemma always said that when she knew my words didn’t hold weight. Her standing with me was friend first, assistant second.

  I just smiled.

  When we got back to the group, I approached Kat.

  “I noticed some pictures on the wall upstairs. Who are they? It would be nice to know the history of the owners of this ranch.”

  The space between her brows furrowed. Seemed my question surprised her.

  “That family didn’t actually own this property. At least not the parents. Twenty years ago, the father died in an accident. The autopsy showed high levels of alcohol in his blood, so they labeled him as DUI.”

  Oh my.

  “It happened at around two in the morning in a remote area, but there was one witness, as well as the other car involved. The other driver’s statement in the police report said the father drove into his lane and swerved last minute, crashing into a tree.”

  How awful. Good thing the other driver wasn’t killed.

  “By the time the ambulance showed up, he was dead. The man worked for an engineering company and had just been made partner. It’s said he was out celebrating with his mistress.”

  Did she just say ‘mistress’?

  “There was a scandal after a reporter trashed the father, ruining his reputation. The mother found out that the other driver had been drinking too, but that information was buried. People were paid off, including the witness. The driver of the other car was a man of influence.”

  Okay, that had to be David Withers, our politician.

  “What did the witness have to say? They saw the accident, right?” Jemma asked.

  “Correct. In the original police report, the witness stated that the black car swerved into the orange car. Then the orange car crashed into a tree.”

  I bet that’s why Mr. Politician abhorred orange!

  “But the witness retracted that statement saying he made a mistake, and it was actually the other way around. He made some lame excuse that it was late, and he was tired, having worked all night at his job in a bar.”

  “Oh my god. Was the witness paid off too?” I asked.

  “Yes, that’s the story as I heard it.”

  “Go on. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said. “What happened to the mother and her kids?”

  “The mother committed suicide a few weeks later when she found out about the mistress and that they were penniless. The other driver had sued them and received the proceeds from the father’s $150,000 life insurance policy as compensation. After all that, the mother was a wreck and just couldn’t handle it.”

  That’s so tragic!

  “I hope neither of her kids found her body.” That would be horrible to have a child see such a thing.

  “They never found her body. She just disappeared, but the note she left implied her intent to end her life. They think she might’ve swum out to sea and the tide took her drowned body elsewhere, or sharks got her.”

  “What about the kids?” I asked again.

  “The daughter was thirteen at the time, and her brother was ten. Both were sent to a foster home. They hated it. The man treated them like animals when his wife wasn’t around, and when she died of a heart attack, their nightmare got worse.”

  This was such a heartbreaking story.

  “The brother would yell and scream, so the man locked him in the closet until he kept quiet. He wouldn’t feed him, and when the boy would soil himself, the man would smash it in his face. After a while, he sent the boy to a mental hospital, saying he was violent and tried to kill him. The man treated the girl like a slave and abused her. Finally, when she turned fifteen, she ran away.”

  My eyes filled with tears. Jemma’s did too.

  How horrible. Don’t they screen people before they let children go to live with them? These poor kids are at the mercy of these strangers who are supposed to become their new parents and role models.

  “Do you know what happened to the girl?” I needed to know what became of the kids.

  “A caring man found her one night, dirty and disheveled, shivering on the ground in the fetal position near a dumpster. The filth she’d been consuming had made her sick. He took her in and nursed her back to health. From then on, he raised her like his own. Since he had no wife or kids, before he died he willed this ranch and land to her.”

  “What about her brother?”

  “From what I heard, he was let out ten years later. That’s all I know. The story ends there,” Kat said.

  Oh my god. The guests here were all in the story.

  The politician, the lawyer, the reporter, the evidence-burying pathologist, the sadistic foster parent, and I bet...Jenn’s the mistress! Who’s left? Who’s the wit
ness? Of course! Chris, the marine. He said he worked in a bar.

  The cast was all here.

  My jaw dropped. I looked at Jemma. She looked at me. We both knew at the same moment what this meant...

  Ten Menehunes!

  Chapter 5

  It was a wonder I could even sleep last night. I thought I’d be tossing and turning, but I slept like a baby nestled in a mother’s bosom.

  The storm seemed to have wound down a bit, but there was no telling when it would act up again. Although the rain had subsided, the wind still howled away, yet blowing with less outrage through the trees.

  We served breakfast, then people just milled about. A few strolled outside while the weather permitted it, having been cooped up half of yesterday and all of last night.

  “Sam’s horse is back!” someone yelled from outside.

  Jemma and I had been in the kitchen, so when we heard the commotion we ran out to see for ourselves.

  What happened to Sam? was probably on everyone’s minds. It sure was on mine.

  “While the weather holds up, we need to search for Sam,” Chris said.

  I totally agreed with him. I just hoped she wasn’t dead, and that whole thing last night with Kat’s story and the guests here was just a coincidence.

  “We’ll split up and look for her,” Kat said. “It would be best to take the horses. Most of you won’t make it on foot, especially after that rain yesterday. The grounds will be muddy, and there will be gushing water on roads, streams, and rivers. You all need to be careful.”

  Her eyes swept over the lot of us. “Find a partner and stay together. Is there anybody who doesn’t feel comfortable about going out there today?”

  Jenn raised her hand, mousey-like. Her face turned red.

  “Nobody else?” Kat asked.

  We all looked around at each other.

  “Okay then. Jenn, you stay back, and everybody else follow me.”

  “Shouldn’t someone stay back with Jenn?” I said. It worried me that she might get offed if she were alone here. Unfortunately, nobody else but Jemma knew my reasons.

  “Are you going to be fine staying here alone?” Kat asked her.

  “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  My nerves felt like I drank ten cups of coffee.

  “Did you want to stay back too?” Kat asked me.

  “Oh no. I just...” I didn’t know what to say. A part of me hesitated to believe anybody was playing out Agatha’s novel, yet what if...?

  Nah. That’s just ridiculous. We were not in an Agatha Christie novel. How absolutely silly.

  Kat scrunched her forehead, waiting for me to finish my thought.

  “I’m good. I’m ready to go.”

  Jenn went back into the ranch house, while the rest of us mounted up and headed out. At first I thought Jemma might want to team up with Chris, but she chose me instead. The lawyer and politician seemed inseparable after the conversation they had. Chris and Nadine went off together, while Floyd paired with Heidi.

  I found it strange that Kat and Evan didn’t assign themselves to two of the guests. This valley was their front and back yard, so each taking someone else would’ve been safer for the guests, in my opinion.

  Heck, Jemma and I didn’t know this territory. What if we got lost?

  “The horses know their way back, so as long as you point them in the right direction coming home, they’ll bring you back safely,” Kat said.

  Okay, I guess that answered my concerns. Then again, Sam’s horse didn’t bring her back safely. He didn’t bring her back at all.

  “Everyone meet back here no later than noon. I don’t want the horses out any longer than that. If we haven’t found Sam by then, chances are we won’t. She’s probably safe with a local resident, so they’ll get her back to us.”

  “When we return, you should ask Kat about the key to the library, Ginger,” Jemma said as we rode off to the west.

  “Do you think we’re being ridiculous?” I was second-guessing what we had discussed earlier. It was crazy when you think about it.

  “About the Menehunes?”

  “Yeah. I mean, c’mon, what are the chances that we’re in the middle of a serial murder reenactment from a novel?”

  “But what if we are? People never think bad things are gonna happen to them, but they do.”

  Hmm.

  “Ginger, the coincidences are just too bizarre, don’t you think?”

  I had to admit, it was weird.

  “I guess so. But this is really creeping me out, Jemma.”

  “Yeah, it’s creeping me out too.”

  We rode in silence for a few trotted steps.

  “What if Kat’s the daughter?” Jemma asked.

  Thunderballs bumped my foot.

  “Jemma, don’t stay too close. I don’t wanna be scraping off my shoes,” I said with a snicker.

  “Oh, har, har, you’re really funny.” She humphed. “You gonna answer my question?”

  Oh, right. “She could be. She didn’t get emotional when telling the story though. Something that traumatic happening to you would make you grit your teeth when recalling it, wouldn’t you think?”

  “Maybe she’s a good actress. Or maybe she’s so hardened that she’s got no emotion left.”

  “It’s too early to speculate on who’s the daughter without more clues. Besides, Kat was up front the whole time, so how could she have done something to Sam?”

  “Maybe Sam just got lost or fell off her horse.”

  “I was back there most of the time and would’ve heard her if she fell. Nobody is going to fall off their horse and not make a sound.”

  “She was pretty far behind you most of the way. I turned around enough times to see her way back. Her horse seemed to refuse to follow closely in line.”

  I had to agree with that.

  “Yeah, I noticed that too,” I said.

  “To be honest, I don’t think we’re gonna find her.”

  “Think positive, Jemma.”

  “Sorry, but I just have a bad feeling about this. I wish Reese was here.”

  “You want him to get axed like the rest of us?”

  “Don’t say that!”

  “I was kidding. Nobody is going to die.” If only I truly believed that. It didn’t look good for Sam, and from Kat’s story about the family, and seeing those ten Menehune pieces—this whole thing seemed surreal.

  A whinny sounded out in the pasture up ahead. A few snorts too. Wild horses, probably.

  “Hey, look there.” Jemma pointed to a shack blending into the trees.

  If anybody lived there, it wasn’t apparent from the outside. Abandoned is what it looked like.

  “Let’s go investigate,” I told her. My heels kicked Firefly at the same time my lips did a smooch, smooch. “Come on, boy, let’s go check that out.”

  When we reached the shack, I dismounted. The ground squished like soggy mulch as my feet plopped into it. Jemma stayed seated on Thunderballs.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked her. “Your shoes have been through worse.” I chuckled.

  “Are you gonna keep reminding me of that?” She sighed. “I’ll stay here and hold the horses while you go investigate. We have nothing to tie them to. They might run away.”

  She had a point. The tree trunks were too thick. Since neither of us were cowgirls, we’d be hopping around like headless rabbits in a roundup should the horses decide to bolt.

  “Okay, here,” I said, passing her the reins, “you take this, and I’ll be right back.”

  Squish, squish. Ugh. Don’t know if this was any better than what Jemma went through with the horse dung.

  Okay, after a moment of clear thinking, I take that back. This was in no way worse than horse dung. Jemma could keep that trophy.

  Although this aging shack must’ve gone through nature’s harsh realities throughout the years, it didn’t seem to need a cane yet. I trusted it wouldn’t come crashing down on me should I enter.

 
The door creaked as I opened it. I expected spiders to drop from the ceiling, but that didn’t happen, thank god.

  Hmm. Inside was kinda cozy actually. It had the ambiance of a small kempt cabin from the inside. After surveying the wood-burning stove and bedding, my original assessment was wrong. Somebody had been here. And recently. In fact, they were probably staying here still.

  Panic struck me at that moment. We wouldn’t want that somebody to catch us snooping around their place should they come back.

  I turned on my heels and scrambled out. I nearly tripped in my hurry. I shut the door with a creak and a click, then bolted toward Firefly.

  “What’s the matter?” Jemma asked as I mounted Firefly faster than a flea hopping on its host.

  “I think somebody lives here.” I tugged the reins to one side, instructing Firefly to turn and go left.

  Jemma did the same, and Thunderballs followed.

  “Who would be living in a shack like that? A hermit?” she asked.

  “Who knows?”

  I didn’t look back. I just kept on going.

  After another hour had passed, this rescue mission seemed hopeless. Time was ticking closer to when we would need to head back, and we’d found zilch. No sign of Sam anywhere. I sure hoped Kat was right about a local keeping her safe.

  On the ride back, I glanced at the dense grove of trees that hid the shack as we came upon it again. Surprisingly, no wild horses whinnied or snorted. Only two sounds broke the peace: that of our rides’ clomping hooves and the tranquility of native birds serenading their love songs.

  However, what should have been calming to the soul instead aroused in me a sense of foreboding.

  The back of my neck tingled.

  Was somebody watching us?

  * * *

  About an hour after everyone returned from their search, the rain started in again. Droplets the size of peas—okay maybe not quite that big, but pretty damn close—fell like pellets, tapping, tapping, tapping like typewriter keys with their pitter-patters on the rooftop and glass.

  “This is not going to get better,” somebody said.

  “At least there’s no tsunami warning.” Jenn had been listening to the radio while we were gone.

  “That’s good news. I wasn’t looking forward to hiking up a mountain in this weather,” the professor said.