Something's Rotten in Paradise (Maui Mayhem Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Aysia Amery

  “Poor Lester. He’s just lost his kidney donor.”

  This time, we all frowned.

  * * *

  I turned on my right side, trying hard not to move the bed too much. Then five minutes later, I rolled over on my left. After another five minutes, I let out a breath.

  Here I was with insomnia, laying on a king-sized bed with Jemma to my right. She snored away, probably dreaming about some hot guy she was yet to meet. I debated whether to pinch her nostrils together, then figured it was a bit much, so did what I normally do to Blaine when he’s buzz-sawing Zzs. I nudged her.

  She snorted, then turned on her side. Eureka!

  After ten more minutes of staring at the ceiling, I grabbed my cell from the nightstand and checked the time.

  1:23 a.m.

  I groaned. My eyelids weren’t feeling like lead weights yet to get to snoozin’, not to mention my buzzing brain’s part in it. My mind just wouldn’t shut down after the night’s events. I should say ‘last night’ since it was past midnight already.

  I finally leaped out of bed and padded my way to the bathroom. At least my tummy wasn’t making a fuss anymore. The bright light stung my eyes, and I squinted. With my hands rested on the sink, I regarded my reflection in the mirror.

  Lordy! It was not a comely sight. Who the hell ever looked good in the mornings? Much less when you haven’t been able to catch any winks. Blaine must really love me if he could still kiss this face before I freshened up in the mornings.

  Okay, enough of this nonsense.

  Instead of going back to bed, I put on my jeans and t-shirt and took a walk outside. I was hoping that by the time I got back, I’d be able to fall asleep. It was worth a try anyway.

  Well, like some of my other bright ideas, this did the opposite of what I wanted it to do. Like a slap in the face, the briskness of the chilly air removed any trace amounts of drowsiness I had in me.

  February was the coldest month of the year, and it could get as low as the mid-60s. To those residing in cooler climates, that may sound pretty wimpy, but to us islanders acclimated to warmer tropical weather most of the year, the mid-60s were darned near freezing.

  Since the assault to my senses had already been done, I made the best of it.

  As I walked along the stone walkway that led me away from the main house, I spotted a fairly large cottage about 50 feet away. A dim light glimmered through the windows, bringing to mind either candles, or a fireplace perhaps? Warming up near a fireplace sounded wonderful right now. My hands felt as though they’d been dunked in a bucket of ice water.

  Of course, as I edged closer, curiosity got the better of me and I peeked in. Yup, just like Gladys Kravitz. If someone was in there, I’d get the hell out of there fast.

  The room looked like a home library with hardcover books lining multiple shelves. I imagined nestling on one of those comfortable-looking dark brown leather recliners, reading a cozy mystery while sipping hot cocoa. A matching sofa faced the front of a crackling fire.

  More than one person was recently in this room, for two glasses of that same amber liquid, the orange wine that Penelope had brought, sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa. A third glass had fallen to the rug on the floor and was turned on its side. A quarter-sized stain had bled from its rim.

  Hmm, if this was a romantic interlude, why three glasses? A ménage à trois? If it was, with whom? Most everyone was related to each other in some form or other, so that would be weird and, umm, gross.

  Also, after the night’s events, who could feel even remotely in the mood for such things? The Duboits were grieving, so that would leave Lester and Regina. But again, the third glass just didn’t fit.

  Wait a minute. There was something by the sofa that I couldn’t quite make out. I stood on my tiptoes, but that still didn’t help.

  I strolled around the corner to peek into the side window. My eyes focused on a foot. Was someone sleeping on the floor? I scooted further down until I could see more of the body. Oh my god, it was Lester. Was he drunk and had passed out? Did his two guests leave after he had done so?

  He was fully clothed, so it didn’t seem that any hanky-panky took place.

  My eyes focused on his chest. Was he breathing? I couldn’t tell, but for some reason, I didn’t have a good feeling about this.

  Before I could decide on what to do, Maile appeared inside the cottage. She was pointing down at the fallen glass.

  What was she trying to convey to me?

  She then beckoned me to come in. I rushed to the front door and shoved it open—thank goodness it wasn’t locked. At this point, my heart was beating to the rhythm of a timpani drum at the height of its crescendo. Just as I had feared for Richard, that same trepidation revisited here for Lester.

  Before I knew it, my knees hit the floor and I pressed three fingertips to his neck. There was no pulse. My head lowered to his chest, but there was nothing. No heartbeat. This was NOT good.

  My hands went to my pockets and when they came up empty, I blurted out a “Fart!” (from my lips, not the other end. I was degassed by then). Dang, I hadn’t brought my cellphone. What would I have needed it for on this short excursion? Well, I couldn’t have anticipated this, now could I?

  I ran like a deer being chased by a lion back to the house, back to where my cellphone lay on the nightstand.

  I dialed 911. They were probably going to wonder what the hell was going on at this location. Two fatalities in a row tonight. What were the chances of that? Crazy.

  “I think someone died.” I think? I knew, but that’s what came out of my mouth.

  “My name is Ginger Lee.” I’m sure they could track my cell for a location, but just in case, I pulled out the contract from my belongings with the Duboits’ address on it.

  Sure enough, she asked for it.

  “The address is...” I read it from the sheet.

  “His name is Lester. But I don’t know his last name.” I forgot what name Fiona said to the butler when the older man was about to leave. Linkley, Landly, something like that. Oh well.

  By this time, Jemma was seated upright, while Reese stood in the doorway with an expression of ‘WTF?’

  “No, I didn’t see any blood or a wound,” I told the 911 operator.

  “I’m not with him right now. I had to get my cellphone to call you.”

  Should I go back to the scene? I’ll wait until she tells me to.

  “I already checked and there’s no pulse or heartbeat.”

  Okay, here it came...yup, she made the connection. I mean, just how many emergency calls do you think she had received up in this area today? For that matter, for the week, or even possibly the month. I can bet you the ones coming from this residence were probably the only ones.

  “Yes, earlier this evening, or rather, last night, there was another incident here. Weird coincidence, huh?”

  She said something or other, then I figured I’d better get this next bit in.

  “Umm, this is just an observation I made, and I’m not saying anything suspicious actually happened, but you may want to be on the safe side and treat this like a crime scene.”

  I knew that was going to produce more questions.

  “No, no, as I said earlier, I have no actual proof, but there’s something strange about a few things I noticed at the scene. It’s worth being on the safe side, no? We wouldn’t want anybody messing with the evidence, just in case there was indeed foul play. And especially since two tragic incidents happened here on the same night. Don’t you think that’s kinda weird?”

  She agreed to convey my concerns to the police.

  When there was no more I could help her with, I hung up and plunked down on the mattress.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Reese’s weight dipped the bed.

  I turned my head to where I could look at him. “Hell if I know, but this has got to be the worst weekend I have ever spent.”

  “You think?”

  I smiled at his retort, but
the rest wasn’t a laughing matter. Something gnawed at me like a pesky rat in a dungeon cell. There was no way Lester died of natural causes. The chances that his kidney failed and he just suddenly keeled over was mighty slim.

  Maile was trying to tell me something. That was what she did whenever something was amiss.

  Between Richard’s demise and Lester’s abrupt end, yup, I was gonna have to get to the bottom of this, all right.

  Chapter 7

  To say Fiona was not happy to be told Lester had been found dead on her property was an understatement. And especially within just a few hours after her own husband’s death. Her reaction was more in sympathy to her own inconvenience than it was to poor Lester’s short life.

  With the wine glasses at the scene, and three, no less, I wondered if one of those might have touched Fiona’s lips. Lester was her husband’s bastard child, after all. Even though she was the main heir, she might have been worried about a will she wasn’t aware of, passing on a trust fund to the bastard son.

  Was her empathetic gesture to help Joseph and Lester just a ruse for her own agenda? It was looking more and more that way to me now. Especially her lie about the eel. That certainly couldn’t be dismissed. No, she planned his allergy attack, and she used me to do it, I was sure of it. That conniving witch!

  * * *

  I can’t tell you how cool it was to have friends in the right places. My contact in the police department was Pako. He was a detective in the Criminal Investigation Division. We went to the same high school, and although he was a year ahead of me, we hung out a lot and became great friends. Well, I should also mention...we used to date, but that’s not important. Just suffice it to say, we knew we weren’t right for each other in a romantic sense, but as friends we were golden.

  When I got back to Maui, I gave Pako a call. He never once made me feel as though I was a nuisance, with sticking my nose into places most would say it didn’t belong. Mainly because he knew of my gifts, and on occasion, especially when there was a murder involved, he’d come seeking my help. I’ve assisted him with solving many a crime, so I was an asset, and he had no ego issues with showing his appreciation.

  “Hey, what’s up? How’s Blaine?”

  “He’s good. Say, Pako, I was doing a gig on Lanai this weekend, and two deaths occurred there.”

  As you can tell, I’m not into small talk. I’m a ‘get to the point’ kinda person, which can be good and bad. My mom used to comment on how abrupt I was when chatting on the phone.

  Mom was just the opposite. She loved to talk for hours to friends and family, asking them about their kids, work, their spouses, and anything else she could get them to disclose. She was a people person, and it made me smile to remember her caring ways.

  “Two? You poisoned them with your cooking?”

  “Haha, very funny, but don’t laugh; I might be accused of that with one of them.”

  “Seriously? What happened?” His voice hit a high pitch with concern.

  “Gawd, where do I start? Anyway, the important parts you should know are, I think the hostess planned for her husband to get an anaphylaxis attack to make his death look like it was due to a natural cause. Unfortunately, she’s trying to make like I was responsible for using an ingredient that she specifically told me not to.”

  My mouth was yapping so fast, I had to remember to take a breath.

  “She’s lying, of course, but if she ever tries to use it against me to keep the sniffing off her, then it’s her word against mine. And no matter how I look at it, that’s not going to be good for me or my reputation.”

  “Holy kaka,” Pako said, once he had a chance to interject.

  “Yeah, tell me about it.” I sighed. “Anyway, the second part of this circus act is that one of the guests keeled over later that same night. Well, it was actually the wee hours of the following morning when I found his body, but you know what I mean.”

  “You discovered the body? How? Where was he? And why were you out and about at that time of night? You’re normally snoozing by, what, 10:30?”

  I knew he was going to go all Sherlock on me.

  “I couldn’t sleep, all right? Jemma was snoring, and I had a lot on my mind, so I went for a walk outside, and I just stumbled upon him.”

  “What do you mean by ‘stumbled’? He was lying on the ground? Or in the bushes?”

  Drats.

  “Do you have to be so good at your job, detective?” I rolled my eyes. Good thing he couldn’t see me. “Okay, I was snooping around. You happy?”

  “Oh, so you were playing Gladys Kravitz again, huh?” He laughed. That was a standing joke we had, as you’ve well noticed, since I’ve used that character’s name more than once already.

  “Oh, shut up. I’m better than she is at it, and you know it.” It was my turn to laugh. Yeah, I had no problems making fun of myself. That’s what we did. It was sort of a custom and tradition.

  “Can’t disagree with you there.”

  “Anyway, if you’d let me finish...” I paused to make sure he stayed silent and was all ears. “I think somebody, or even somebodies, might’ve killed him.”

  “So you think it was a murder?” There was that high-pitched voice of his again. If Pako could sing, he’d be a tenor. Unfortunately, he was as tone deaf as my brother. Get those two drunk and stick ‘em in a room with a guitar, and the neighborhood mongrels would howl like they did on the first of the month when the tsunami warning horn blared. I’m serious.

  “I’d bet my two catering assistants on it.”

  “Not your life?”

  “I guess I’m not 100% confident about it. I’d rather give up Jemma and Reese on this one.” I internally chuckled. “But seriously, Pako, if the man was stabbed or shot, then that’s one thing, but if he was poisoned, then of course, how can I know that? But I have a strong feeling that something’s rotten in paradise.”

  I paused, and he waited. He probably heard me take in a breath. That meant I was about to say something disturbing or at least troublesome.

  “I saw her again.”

  “Who?”

  “You know who. Who do I always see when there’s something funky going on?”

  “You saw your sister?”

  “Uh-huh. She was definitely trying to tell me something. She pointed at the wine glass that was on the floor by Lester’s body. That’s why I think he was poisoned.”

  “Ah, I gotcha. Okay, so what do you want me to do?” he asked.

  “Do you know if Lanai has its own forensic team? If they don’t then it would go through Maui, right?”

  “In either case, I can get the info on it. I’ve got connections on Lanai. Those guys over there don’t mind spilling beans on a case.”

  “Good. Will you let me know the verdict as soon as forensics is done with their tests? Also the autopsy?”

  “Sure, no prob.”

  There was silence.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “Not for now, but if and when the time comes, should the results show that Lester was indeed poisoned, I might need you to get me in to snoop the crime scene. If Lester’s ghost appears to me, he might be a big help.”

  “I have to tell ya, I do get a kick watching you communicate with the dead. Hearing you try to guess their pantomiming is a crack-up sometimes.”

  “I’m glad to hear I’m a form of your entertainment.”

  He laughed. “You always have been. There’s never a dull moment around you, lady.”

  “Yeah, I guess the one thing we had in common was we did have fun.”

  I smiled, remembering some of those crazy times, like toilet-papering our math teacher Mr. Jackson’s car, or betting who could catch the most B-52 cockroaches with our bare hands, or squishing Jell-O in our mouths then passing it on to the next person.

  It gives me the willies now to think I actually did those things and thought they were fun. I can’t eat Jell-O anymore without those flashbacks grossing me out. I wish I could blame it on being
drunk, but I wasn’t.

  Yup, we did some pretty wild and, many times, stupid things when we were teens. Things I would probably worry about that my own kids did—had Blaine and I had any, that is.

  “Hey, we had more than that in common.”

  A feeling of fondness for an old and dear friend swept over me. “Yes, Pako, we sure did.”

  “Okay, I gotta go. I’ll be in touch, Ging.”

  “Thanks, Pako.”

  “No sweat.”

  Chapter 8

  “You were right,” were Pako’s first words uttered when I answered my cell. “I got the autopsy report today.”

  “Really?” I don’t know why I doubted it. I guess it was just a reaction to the news.

  “Poison.”

  “How about the forensic report on the wine glasses?”

  “Don’t have those yet. I’m sure I’ll get ‘em any day now.”

  “Okay.”

  “So it looks like the guy was offed. Or maybe he was suicidal. Did you get to observe the victim when he was alive? Did he seem unstable or distressed?”

  “I didn’t get the impression he was suicidal. It doesn’t compute that he’d want to kill himself.” Then something occurred to me. “Well, come to think of it, after meeting his half-sister, even I might’ve contemplated throwing a noose around my neck.”

  “Worse than my mother-in-law?”

  “Words cannot describe, my friend.” Pako’s mother-in-law was Mary Poppins compared to Penelope. “Anyway, I’m curious to see whose DNA are on the wine glasses. The one on the floor had Lester’s, I’m guessing. But there were two other people there at some point that evening.”

  “Do you have any suspects in mind? Who was at the dinner party?”

  “Fiona Duboit, the hostess, and her husband, Richard, but since he was dead already, he’s off the list. There’s their two kids, Penelope and Vogel; and Vogel’s girlfriend, Regina.” My memory pictured the dining table seating. “Lester’s father—well, he’s not his biological father, but I don’t need to go into that right now. He went home early. I can confidently rule him out. He had no motive to kill his son. He was trying to help him get a kidney transplant, and was why they were both there in the first place—”