Burned

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “At the ball. They might auction it off.”

  “I’ll have to talk to your father. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he bid on it for me? We could have it back in our family where it belongs-unless some millionaire decides to spend a fortune on it.”

  That’s all I’d need, Will thought. He looked at the hook on the wall where the lei had been hanging for years. As if his mother had ESP, she said, “You could hang it right back in that lovely little house of yours. It’s too bad you don’t think there’s enough room for us to stay there.”

  Will ignored the last remark. “If Dad buys the lei for you, I insist you keep it,” he said, “and I mean insist.”

  His mother considered this. “Well, I did feel like a queen when I wore it. Ohhh-they’re calling us to get on the flight. Bye, darling.”

  The phone clicked in his ear. Will placed it in its cradle and turned to Kim. “You’ll be happy to know your favorite mother-in-law is on her way.”

  As Kim laughed, Will’s stomach started to do somersaults. He was sure they wouldn’t stop until the lei was out of his life forever, one way or the other.

  Saturday, January 15

  55

  D orinda’s cousin Gus slept like a log in her sublet apartment. It was as if he didn’t have a care in the world. When he first lay down on the bed, he pressed on the mattress a few times with his hand and found it a little too firm for his liking. But Gus being Gus, he closed his eyes and went out like a light.

  On Saturday morning he woke early. Confused for a moment about where he was, he did what he always did when he woke up in a strange bed and couldn’t figure it out. He counted to ten, got his bearings, and his whereabouts finally penetrated his skull. “Cousin Dorinda!” he cried out. “What a pity.”

  The clock radio next to the bed read 6:12 A.M. “The old time change,” he said as he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood. In the little kitchen he brewed a pot of Dorinda’s Kona coffee. As the joe slowly dripped into the glass container, Gus bent down and tried to touch his toes. He never succeeded, but it made him feel good to make the effort. He reached back up, then down again. Up and down, up and down until he felt dizzy.

  The coffee was finally ready-dark and rich with a wonderful aroma. He poured himself a cup and promptly went back to bed. He rested the cup of coffee on the end table and grabbed the second pillow to prop up behind him. His eyes rested on a spiral notebook.

  “What have we here?” he said to himself. He pulled it closer and opened it. On the top line, printed in large letters in Dorinda’s scribbly handwriting, was the title: THE ROMANCE OF THE PRINCESS BALL. IS IT A NIGHT TO FALL IN LOVE OR TO FALL IN LOVE ALL OVER AGAIN? Gus couldn’t make out the smaller print below. He grabbed his glasses off the dresser, took his coffee in hand, and sank back into the pillows with the notebook on his lap. He read with interest about how Hawaii was the perfect place for romance. Honeymooners abound as well as people who have been together for years. People meet and fall in love on the beautiful islands. Natives and tourists alike wear leis in a spirit of love and friendship and celebration.

  The next paragraph in Dorinda’s notebook was about the planning for the Princess Ball at the romantic Waikiki Waters Playground and Resort-the excitement about auctioning off one of the royal leis that had been in the Seashell Museum for years; the food; the decor; the clothing with the shell lei design in the gift bags; and the charity that would benefit young artists in Hawaii.

  Gus dabbed at his eyes when he came to the end of the unfinished article. Dorinda had written, “Finally the night of the ball arrived.”

  “She never got to write the outcome,” Gus whispered sadly. Didn’t Beethoven have an unfinished symphony? he wondered. It sounded familiar.

  Gus put down the notebook and sipped the coffee. I’ve always had a knack for reporting, he thought. In high school I wrote a few articles for the paper. He glanced over at some of Dorinda’s clothes that were thrown on the armchair in the corner. Poor little D, he thought sadly. She could be a brat, but she didn’t deserve to die like that.

  “I’ll finish the story for you, Dorie,” Gus said into the air. “I’ll make it a tribute to you from your beloved cousin Gus. Or Guth, as you called me when you were a baby.” The more Gus thought about it, the more excited he got. I’ll bring the notebook over to the hotel today and show it to Will, he thought. I’ll tell him my plans. Then I’ll spend the day on the beach and come back to get ready for the ball.

  Cousin Dorie, I won’t let them forget you.

  56

  A t a little after eight Regan snuck out of the room as quietly as she could. Kit had gotten in at about three. Regan had heard her, glanced at the clock, and fell right back to sleep. On the way home last night she had called Mike Darnell. He told her to drop off the beer bottle at the police station and he’d take care of it in the morning. Regan tossed and turned when she went to bed, wondering again if she had gone overboard.

  Down on the beach, Regan began to walk. It was still early, and there weren’t many people around. A few morning strollers were out, but only a couple of diehards had already staked their claim of land with their towels, beach chairs, and umbrellas. Regan walked out to the end of the jetty and sat. The water was splashing up against the rocks. Everything felt so peaceful and calm. It was going to be another beautiful day in paradise.

  She sat for about ten minutes and then got up. It was easy to imagine how someone could slip on these rocks, she thought. They’re wet and a little slimy. Carefully Regan walked back to the sand and, carrying her shoes, headed toward the hotel. She passed a group of six people in Hawaiian print shorts who were obviously out for an early-morning constitutional.

  Regan spotted Jazzy sitting at a small secluded table by the pool with a man who looked like a sourpuss. Regan wondered if he was her boss. She took the path that would bring her closest to the table on her way to the breakfast buffet and made sure to catch Jazzy’s eye.

  “Oh, hello, Regan,” Jazzy said when Regan waved.

  “Hi, Jazzy.” Regan couldn’t believe she was calling her Jazzy. “All set for the ball tonight?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  She’d better introduce me to this guy, Regan thought. He’s buried in the breakfast menu, but he’ll have to lift his head sometime soon. “I’m so glad the leis are back, aren’t you?”

  “You better believe it,” Jazzy answered. “Regan, have you met my employer, Claude Mott?”

  “I don’t believe I have.” Regan approached with a big smile and extended her hand to Grumpy. “Regan Reilly. Nice to meet you.”

  He looked up and smiled wanly. “I’m sorry. I am no good before I have my coffee.”

  “I can understand that. I always feel more human after my first cup of the day. I’m looking forward to seeing your clothing tonight.”

  “You won’t be disappointed,” Claude muttered. “After tonight we’ll go back to my house on the Big Island, and I will design, design, design.”

  “Jazzy told me you have a wonderful home over there,” Regan said, doing her best to be endearing. She wanted to get some inkling as to why they ended up in Dorinda’s dirt file, and she figured graciousness was the best approach. “Where is your house?”

  “It’s up in the hills a few miles from the Kona airport.” Claude kissed his fingers. “It’s magnificent. The only problem is that there are people building a house on the next piece of property. I haven’t met them, but believe me, they have no taste.”

  “The problem will be solved when you sell that house and build one here near Waikiki,” Jazzy noted coyly.

  Regan got the impression that was something Jazzy was pushing. She wants to be where the action is. The Big Island is beautiful but much quieter. “Well, fences make for good neighbors,” Regan commented, wanting to prolong the conversation even though it was clear they weren’t going to ask her to join them.

  “The problem is the fence!” Claude exclaimed. “They just put up a barbed wire fence lining m
y property. What are they building up in the woods there? A prison?”

  “You can’t see the house because it’s a very wooded area,” Jazzy explained. “Very rural and very wonderful. But Claude can’t understand the need for the barbed wire.”

  “When are they moving in?” Regan asked.

  “Word is, in the spring sometime. I can’t wait to get a look at who these people are. Two women, I’m told.” Claude’s focus went back to the breakfast menu. Regan took that as a sign that he didn’t want any more small talk.

  “Enjoy your breakfast,” she said. “See you later.”

  Will was already in his office, looking a little more relaxed. “Today’s the big day, Regan.”

  “I know. Did you have a good night last night?”

  “I’m so glad my family is back. Kim is terrific. I told her everything. She didn’t even get too upset about my mother being on her way.”

  “That’s great. I just saw Jazzy and Mr. Personality outside.”

  “Claude?”

  “Yes. What a charmer.”

  Will laughed. “Tell me about it.”

  “Will, did you get the number for that couple I met on the beach the other night?”

  “Yes, I did.” He handed her a piece of paper with their room number and extension. “Regan, you’ll be interested to know I just got a report that the girl’s mother called this morning. She’s worried because she hasn’t heard from her daughter since early yesterday morning. She called several times, and no one answered the phone in the room or their cell phone. She was sure Carla would be calling nonstop with ideas for her wedding.”

  Regan looked concerned. “Have you gone into the room?”

  Will shook his head. “Not yet. They could be sleeping. They could have unplugged the phone. We can knock on the door in an hour or so, but I don’t want to disturb them yet. It’s still early.”

  “But if they’re not there…” Regan began.

  “Sometimes people take a room for a week but go off for a day or two to one of the other islands. They’ve already paid for the room, and they don’t want to pack up everything. Our guests have that right. If they just got engaged, they could have gone anywhere to celebrate.”

  “I suppose,” Regan said. “But please let me know when you go into their room. I do want to talk to Carla. You know, Will, if this young woman did indeed see something suspicious the night Dorinda died, she might be a target-”

  “For whoever might have killed Dorinda,” Will finished. “Let’s hope that they just had a lot of champagne yesterday and are sleeping it off.”

  “Believe me, I’ll be happy if the worst thing they’re suffering from this morning is a hangover,” Regan commented. “Now, about that tour group that escapes the rain to be here thanks to the guy who left them ten million dollars-where would I find them?”

  Will looked at his watch. “It’s buffet time. The two ladies in charge always manage to corral a large table in the main dining room near the open doors overlooking the beach.” He briefly described the members of the group whom Regan hadn’t met. “I don’t suppose you want to be introduced to the rest of them.”

  “No. Not yet. I’ll try to sit near them. I want to check out the twins. They may be swindling money. It sounds as if Dorinda was definitely on to something there. I just wonder what raised her suspicions about them.”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that they only pay their bills after they’ve wrung every discount possible out of me.”

  Regan stood. “I’ll go to see what they eat for breakfast.”

  Outside Will’s office, Janet was at her desk.

  “You’re in early today,” Regan noted, “and on a Saturday.”

  Janet smiled up at her. “After this ball I’m taking a vacation.”

  “Something tells me we’ll all need one,” Regan said and headed to the breakfast buffet.

  57

  C arla and Jason had spent an agonizing night in the cold cellar. Temperatures dropped to forty degrees up in the mountains, and the heat in the house wasn’t working yet. Their bones ached, the ropes cut into their hands and feet, and their mouths were raw and dry with the gags. But those aches and pains were nothing compared to the fear they felt. They were terrified for their lives.

  Bound in chairs that were tied to separate cement poles, both Jason and Carla had tried to wiggle around, but it didn’t help. It only made the rope burns worse.

  Although they couldn’t talk, they were both thinking the same thought: They’d never get the chance to marry each other.

  58

  “G ert and I have no interest in going to the ball,” Regan heard one of the twins saying. “You people go and have fun. Gert and I will find other things to do.”

  “You’re not mad we charged the tickets?” Francie asked. “Because Joy here thinks that-”

  “Francie!” Joy snapped.

  “All I’m saying is that Joy thought you might be upset we did it without asking.”

  “Joy is a very smart young lady,” Ev replied. “Normally we wouldn’t be happy, but we’ll let it go this time.”

  “Why don’t we get two tickets for you?” Artie suggested. “It might be fun. We’ll go as a group.”

  Ev was firm. “Those tickets are overpriced. We’ve already wasted enough of Sal Hawkins’s money on them. Gert and I will go into town and have some twin time. I don’t see that dynamic duo Bob and Betsy. Are they planning to go to the ball?”

  “I think they had a fight,” Joy declared as she stirred some wheat germ into her yogurt. She was doing everything she could to keep her figure as trim as possible, but she knew her discipline would evaporate when she got back to Hudville. She had lost most of her zeal for it anyway. Last night Zeke had revealed that he planned to travel the world for five years-with his surfboard.

  “What did they have a fight about?” Artie asked.

  “I don’t know. But last night when I came back from a party they were sitting on the beach. I heard Betsy complain that Bob was too much of a square.”

  “Bob’s not a square!” Francie blurted.

  “How do you know? He looks like a square to me,” Artie countered.

  “Bob’s nice. He gave me spending money,” Joy said pointedly as she glanced over at the twins.

  “Well, if that makes him feel special, then good for Bob,” Ev said sternly. “The world is full of men who need to show off to young girls. It’s sad.”

  “Why don’t we leave Bob alone?” Joy asked.

  “You’re the one spreading the gossip,” Artie reminded her.

  What a group, Regan thought as she ate a forkful of scrambled eggs. It seemed likely to her that the twins were pocketing some of Sal Hawkins’s money. They were on a tight budget when the group was left with $10 million. That’s a lot of money to go through even if you vacation in Hawaii every three months. But how are they going to get away with it? If they did take several million for themselves, it doesn’t sound as though they’ll have a lot of opportunity to spend all that dough in Hudville.

  “You’re back in your muumuus,” Joy remarked to the twins. “I couldn’t believe you were wearing those hot clothes yesterday.”

  “We explained that to you yesterday, Joy. We were in and out of air conditioning all day looking at hotels all over Oahu. We’re doing our best to keep costs down. Otherwise there won’t be many trips left for the lucky Praise the Rain members.”

  Regan watched the twins closely. If they absconded with Sal Hawkins’s money, that would have been a big scoop for Dorinda. Could they have known that Dorinda suspected them of stealing? That would certainly be a motive for them to want to murder her. They looked like two sweet old ladies. Are they capable of killing? The blonde caught Regan staring at her. Regan turned away quickly, but in the instant their eyes met she decided that babe could be scary. Her look at Regan had been withering.

  Guilty, Regan thought, of at least theft. She took a sip of coffee and pretended to be entranced by the fruit plate
in front of her. It’s clear that the twins don’t want to go to the ball tonight. Why not? They’re up to something. If they have all that money squirreled away, another few hundred bucks shouldn’t matter. What are they up to?

  A woman trying to juggle a full tray and hold her toddler’s hand passed behind Gert’s chair and knocked into it. Gert’s purse slid off the back of her seat and onto the floor. I wouldn’t want to be that poor young mother, Regan thought with a slight smile as she watched the annoyed expression that immediately came over Gert’s face.

  “Well, excuse me,” the twin said sarcastically as she reached down to grab her purse. Too quickly she picked the pocketbook up from its bottom. The flap of the purse hadn’t been hooked properly, and the contents spilled all over the floor.

  “I’m so sorry,” the young mother apologized as her toddler, being only about two feet from the floor, attempted to help out by picking up Gert’s wallet. Gert grabbed it out of his hands, and he started to cry.

  Several coins had rolled beneath Regan’s chair. She leaned down and quickly gathered them up, then crouched on the floor where Gert had practically thrown her body, insisting to her group that she could collect everything herself. Regan was the closest to the mess. She noticed Gert hastily put her large hands around a postcard with the word Kona sprawled across the picture of a beautiful beach. Regan picked up a makeup bag. Under it was the stub of a Hawaiian Airlines boarding pass; destination: Kona, January 14.

  “Here,” Regan said, dropping the coins, makeup bag, and ticket stub into the purse that Gert was stuffing with her Tic Tacs, comb, eyeglass case, hanky, and room key.

  Gert looked into her eyes. They were both on the floor. “Thank you,” she said quickly.

  Regan felt as if Gert were searching her eyes for something. Regan deliberately remained impassive. No, she thought, I didn’t notice that you had a boarding pass for a flight yesterday to Kona. Not at all. And I would never mention it to your tour group-the tour group you just lied to about looking at hotels in Oahu all day yesterday.