He cocks his head adorably. "Um, okay…"
I realize what I just said and shake my head vigorously. "No! I mean, it's something else. I have a strange question, and I think you're the only person who can help me."
Nick smiles, but am I imagining it, or does he look disappointed?
"I'd be happy to help,"
"Oh good. Because what you think might determine whether or not I'm a murderer." A request rarely heard on first dates, I imagine.
CHAPTER FOUR
I explain as Nick follows me out to the yard and over to the kauwila tree. He sets the bags of food on the ground and steps up to the tree, carefully checking it out. Too bad he isn't checking me out.
"It's an old tree. Maybe a couple of centuries old. Unfortunately, there's some problem with the growth. It might have a disease." He looks sad. I guess it would be like me finding a uke lying in a puddle.
"What does this tree have to do with the murder?" Nick asks.
"It's not the tree exactly. I was wondering if this is a normal thing to have in your backyard here on Kauai."
Nick shrugs. "It's fairly common. Was Kua killed by a tree?"
I tell him about the splinters of kauwila wood found in Kua's hair. Then I tell him about the ukulele and how this makes me seem more likely a suspect. My heart sinks with every word. It's like I'm driving him away on purpose.
"Well, kauwila wood is common here, and I guess a branch or wood sculpture could've been the murder weapon, so it could still be anyone. That's weird about your ukulele going missing. I'd be willing to bet it was stolen."
"You…you believe me?" I ask.
Nick nods. "I'm a pretty good judge of character. I don't think you did it. Besides, striking someone that much taller than you, armed with a heavy instrument, doesn't make a lot of sense. Your mother is tall, but I don't think she could swing something that heavy with enough force to kill someone."
For a brief moment I'm amused at the thought of Mom using my ukulele to kill off the competition so I could have better gigs.
"Oh good," I say. "At least you believe me. I don't suppose you'd testify in court on my behalf?"
He smiles. It's a great smile. A warm smile. I feel like I might be okay with a smile like that.
"The detective didn't arrest you. He doesn't have a bloody ukulele covered with Kua's hair. There's no case. Yet."
"Yet?" I ask. His first words were better. Yet?
Nick picks up the bags and leads me into the kitchen, where we plate the food before coming back out to the lanai. There are several chairs, but he chooses to sit next to me on the wicker love seat. My heart begins pounding again, just for a better reason this time.
"I have an idea that might help," Nick says in between bites of mango. "But it's kind of unorthodox."
I shrug, swallowing a bite of burger. "I'll do anything." Then I blush. Ugh. I probably should've chosen my words a little better.
Nick winks, and I melt. "The detective could find something and come back to arrest you. I think we should investigate this ourselves."
I stare at him. "Are you serious? I don't know anything about investigating a murder!" Well, other than the fact that I think Leilani did it and framed me, but how does one get proof of that?
He shrugs. "I don't either. But I've read every Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie book ever written. Some twice. How hard can it be?"
"You read mysteries?" I didn't see that coming. I'd be worried, but since he didn't mention sci-fi souvenirs, I figure he's okay.
"And it certainly couldn't hurt," he continues, ignoring me. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen? We don't find anything, and I get to spend a lot of time with you."
He wants to spend time with me? That's the best news I've had in a year.
I sigh. "Well, at least we will have gone on a date or two before I'm incarcerated for life."
"It's not going to come to that. We can do this," Nick insists.
I wonder. I mean sure, the amateur-sleuth thing works in books, TV, and movies…but in real life? And what does he get out of it? The man barely knows me. Why risk anything for a girl he's never met before last night? It doesn't really add up. Huh. I guess that's the kind of thing you say when you're investigating.
On the other hand, Detective Ray doesn't seem too bright. What if he screws up the investigation and I end up in prison because of his incompetence? That would suck. I'm really not cut out for prison. Not that I know anything about it, but I'm just pretty sure it wouldn't exactly work for me.
"What would we have to do?" I ask weakly. I guess I've just agreed.
"Well…" Nick thinks for a moment. "Tell me everything you know about the Terrible Trio. That might be a good start."
I take a deep breath. "Okay. You're right. It can't hurt. Let's see…" I bite my lip as I think.
"Kua is…I mean, was, in his twenties. Tall, physically fit, talented…"
Nick frowns. "I'm a little glad he's dead."
I roll my eyes. "You cut me off too soon. He was also incredibly arrogant. He hated me. My very existence seemed to piss him off."
"Did he get along with the other two?" he asks.
"He always fought with Leilani. I don't think they ever got along. But I don't think he was that way with the professor. At least, I never saw them fight. I never saw them talk to each other either. I think Kua grudgingly respected him, but I can't say they were friends."
"What else do you know about him?" Nick asks.
"He was a surfer. I've heard people say he's pretty good. He participated in competitions on occasion. I have no idea who he hung out with." I shrug. "Surfing isn't really my thing." A thought pops into my head. Binny surfs. That might be useful.
Nick asks. "What about Alohalani? What do you know about him?"
"He's older, teaches at the community college. Alohalani gets the lion's share of gigs around here. He's pretty amazing talent-wise." I tell Nick about my conversation with the musician a few days back.
"So he likes you?"
I nod my head. "I'd like to think so. And he kind of hinted that he thought I had some talent—it's just my ancestry that gets in the way as far as he's concerned."
Nick cocks his head to one side. "Do you think he could've killed Kua?"
"I don't think so," I say, testing the words on my tongue. "He doesn't seem like the type, really. And Kua wasn't any strong competition to Alohalani."
I think about that for a moment, turning the thoughts around in my mind. I'd never seen Kua and the older musician together. But that didn't mean we could rule him out either. For all I know, the two could've been best friends at some point—at least teacher and student.
Nick sighs. "He doesn't jump to the top of my list. Even though in mysteries, it's always the person you least expect."
"Leilani's definitely more likely," I agree. "She's a real nasty piece of work." I fill Nick in on her lineage.
"So she's half native, half non-native?" Nick asks. "That doesn't make her a suspect."
Oh right…Nick is the same way.
"I'm telling you this," I say a little too quickly, "because it seemed to really matter to Kua and Alohalani."
I think about how Alohalani had told me he wished I'd been born here.
"Leilani makes everyone crazy," I continue. "She probably doesn't have one friend in Kauai."
"Which could mean a lot of enemies," Nick muses.
"You can count me in as one of those," I say. "She told the detective that Kua and I were close. My guess is she's framing me."
But did she do it? Was Leilani capable of murder?
"You think she did it," Nick says as he studies my face. "Well, she's definitely my first choice to investigate."
I nod. "She probably thought Alohalani was going to hand his gigs over to Kua when he retired. Rumor has it that might be soon. Like in a few years."
"Does anyone ever retire from playing an instrument?" Nick asks.
I shrug. "I wouldn't. I'll do it until my
fingers are bent with arthritis. But if he's retiring from his job at the college, he might be retiring from everything."
"And Leilani would be next in line…now that Kua's out of the picture."
I nod. "At least she thinks so."
"What else can you tell me about her?" Nick asks.
"Not much," I answer. "She's not married, doesn't have a day job. Her grandmother died in Ireland recently and left Leilani some money. I have no idea what she did for money before that."
How did I know that? The evil redhead told me. Practically rubbed it in my face that she still gigged even though she didn't have to. She probably had no idea I'd find the information useful.
"Does she perform for the love of music?" Nick asks.
"Huh," I say. "I never thought of it before. I guess not, really. The other two do, but I've never felt it in her music. She's like some musicians I knew at Julliard. They had a lot of talent but not a lot of passion. Some studied because their parents wanted them to. Others simply had no idea what they wanted. I'd put Leilani in that boat."
"How do you mean?" he asks.
"Her technique is flawless. She's mastered the ukulele, but when she plays, it's kind of sterile. There's no heart. No emotion."
I'd never really thought about it before, but I was right. To an untrained ear, she sounded great. But if you looked for the nuances, they weren't there. I played because I adored the instrument. I let the music flow from my fingers, and if I closed my eyes, I saw the notes as living, breathing things telling a story. I'd bet Leilani never felt like that.
"So," Nick says, getting back to the investigation. "By killing Kua and framing you, she'd really stand to benefit by getting two competitors out of the way."
I nod. "So it would seem."
But did Leilani frame me? Did she steal the ukulele? I supposed she could've stolen the instrument. Mom sometimes drinks too much and passes out, leaving the door unlocked.
"I want to believe she did it," I say finally. "But I'm just not sure. Something seems a little off about the idea. I'm not sure what that is, but there's something bothering me about her as a suspect."
"She didn't feel that way when she told the detective you'd fought with the victim and was the last person to see him alive," Nick says. "Don't give her too much credit."
I nod. "That's true. This is so crazy. I still can't believe Kua is dead."
"If it wasn't Leilani," Nick thinks aloud, "it could be a surfer. Or someone else, for that matter. You said he had a temper."
"That narrows it down to the tens of thousands of people who live here." I throw my hands up in frustration.
"I disagree," Nick says. "Seems to me it had to be someone who knew him…someone who lives here. Someone who knows you have a kauwila ukulele."
I swallow hard. "I still can't believe it was my instrument that did it. It seems almost too obvious."
Nick nods. "Yes, it does. That's what makes it so devious. Whoever murdered Kua knows who you are. I think we can definitely narrow it down to someone in Aloha Lagoon or the surfing beaches on Kauai."
I shudder as if an icy shadow passed through me. "I hate to think that it's someone I know."
I don't really know that many people here. I'm ruling out my private lesson students first off. Those kids are under the age of 12, and I barely know their parents. There are a few bartenders and waitstaff at the various places I've played. And then there's the staff at the Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel…
Oh no! I glance at my watch. Dammit.
"I've got to go!" I scramble to clean up and race for the kitchen, with Nick hot on my heels.
"What is it?" Nick asks.
"I totally spaced. I have to play a wedding in twenty minutes at the Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel!" I shout this over my shoulder as I run into my bedroom and slam the door behind me.
"Can I go?" Nick asks through the door. "It might help. I can at least check out the staff there. See if there's anyone who hates you."
I pause for a moment. It couldn't be Pastor Dan. He's just a sweet old guy with an unfortunate Elvis obsession. Maybe Mary Lou—the wedding coordinator. She does double duty as the florist and photographer. She's never really liked me, so maybe that's something.
"Sure," I shout as I shimmy into my blue muumuu and step into my matching blue ballet flats. "Why not? But stay in the back, okay?"
After selecting my favorite soprano uke, I race out the door, with Nick trailing. I stop dead in my tracks in the driveway.
"You drive that?" I ask before I realize I'm being rude. Why should I care what my future husband drives?
A beat-up 1970s Cadillac in a disturbing shade of green sits in the driveway. We'll have to take it because my car is trapped inside the garage.
Nick points at the monstrosity. "It was my first car. Mom bought me a Jag, but I love this rattletrap."
"Fine." I climb into the passenger seat. "I hope it goes fast."
After all, I can't judge a future husband by his car…can I?
CHAPTER FIVE
We arrive just in time. The couple, a modestly obese twosome with bored expressions, stand waiting. The groom is middle aged and balding. He's wearing a brand-new aloha shirt and khakis—the equivalent of a suit here. The bride is youngish with long, badly bleached hair with black roots and a sundress that definitely does not show her body to her best advantage.
"Finally," Mary Lou barks as Nick takes a seat in the back. "I was about to call my cousin Myrna."
I take my place at the front with a quick "Sorry." Myrna has never had to replace me, and she never will. The woman can barely play even the most basic chords and can't carry a tune. Mary Lou knows this, and therefore I know it's an empty threat. Still, I feel bad for holding everyone up.
I start to play the "Hawaiian Wedding Song" as the couple gets into place in front of Pastor Dan. He's looking extra sparkly tonight in his '70s Elvis costume. Nice call, I think as I continue playing. This couple looks like they'd be more suited to a fat Elvis in his declining, drug-addled years than the fit, better looking '50s Elvis. Unfortunately, Pastor Dan's '50s Elvis outfit comes complete with super-short shorts. Just like the ones the King wore in Blue Hawaii—Dan's favorite movie and the namesake for this chapel.
Nick waves from the back, and I try to avoid smiling. Mary Lou scowls a few feet away as she snaps photos on a cheap digital camera. Once this is over, she'll slip into the office and print out the photos, slapping them in a tacky plastic frame.
I'm always amazed that people choose to get married here. There are so many striking, natural locations on the island, from the Fern Grotto to any one of the lovely beaches. Oh well, no accounting for taste. Besides, Pastor Dan pays me in cash, so I keep my mouth shut.
"Do you…" Dan drawls in his best Elvisy accent. It's something he does very well and makes it almost worth the cheap wig and polyester costume. "…Roberta Wilder take Robby Lugosi to be your lawful, wedded husband? Thank you very much!"
He adds a pose with his arm held high, his head bowed, and his legs in a lunge. Over the past year I've trained myself not to giggle when he does this. It wasn't easy. Quitting heroin would be a walk in the park compared to this.
Robby Lugosi? Wow. A man shouldn't be a Robby, Ricky, or Bobby after the age of ten. And Lugosi? I wonder if he's related to the actor Bela Lugosi. That would actually be kind of cool.
"I do." Roberta sounds bored and swats away a fly. She doesn't even make eye contact with Robby. I wonder what this is all about. These two don't seem to be into each other at all.
"And do you, Robby Lugosi, take Roberta Wilder to be your lawful, wedded wife? Thank you very much!" Pastor Dan swivels his hips lewdly.
They must've paid for the Blue Suede Shoes package—our most expensive. At Dan's age, he only attempts the gyrations if he is paid to. He's thrown out his hip more than once, and it's disturbing every single time.
"Yup," Robby says as he stifles a yawn.
Yeesh. What's wrong with these two? There's no chemi
stry at all. This is an awesome job for people watching. I've seen some really strange things. Once, a couple insisted they get married with their pets present. Oh sure, you say, that's normal. You've seen a wedding or two where they have their dogs in the church. But have you ever seen one where each person has a six-foot iguana on a leash? I have.
I spot Nick covering his mouth with both hands. He's about to lose it.
"By the power vested in me, the King"—Pastor Dan swings his arm around widely like he's power stroking a guitar—"I now declare you man and wife! You may kiss the bride."
Robby gives Roberta a weak peck on the cheek, and she frowns at him. I think my being late is the least of this couple's problems.
"I'll be right back with your photos!" Mary Lou fakes a smile that instead looks like she's on the verge of vomiting and disappears into the back.
I play the usual rousing recessional tune as Mr. and Mrs. Robby Lugosi walk limply back down the aisle. These events are usually a little more fun. Maybe this couple didn't really want to get married. They certainly don't seem like they just made the biggest commitment of their lives.
Mary Lou returns, waving a large envelope and an eight by ten of the couple's nuptials in a bright-blue frame with seashells glued to it. I suspect Mary Lou decorates the frames herself. We all wish the couple well as they exit the Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel.
"Next time," Mary Lou barks as her face slides back into disgust, "be here when you are supposed to be here!" She turns on her heel and disappears into the office.
Pastor Dan wiggles his eyebrows. "Don't worry about her, Nani. She's just upset because I said 'no' to her demands of covering the whole room with blue suede fabric."
I laugh, because Mary Lou, in her endless attempts to redecorate, always comes up with some ridiculous idea. Last week she wanted to add 30 neon signs to give it more of an Elvis-in-Vegas feel. (Pastor Dan's excuse was we didn't have enough electrical outlets.) I'm surprised she didn't want to scatter pills and hypodermic needles artfully around the chapel.
To his credit, in spite of the tackiness of his costumes and act, Pastor Dan really has a lovely little place here. The pews and altar are made of teak, and he polishes them until they shine. Behind the altar are floor-to-ceiling views of the ocean. The floor is quarried stone. It's simple and pretty. Adding anything besides flowers would be garish overkill.
Ukulele Murder: A Nani Johnson Aloha Lagoon Mystery (Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Book 1) Page 4