Which brought me to the other possibility: that my pal Ace here was lying through his teeth.
Of course, I understood perfectly why he would feel compelled to do exactly that. After all, he must have been aware that whenever a woman was murdered, her husband or boyfriend immediately became a prime suspect.
But from what Marnie had told me, Ace had also been secretive about their relationship while she was alive. Maybe she had been lovestruck enough to interpret his preference for quiet, out-of-the-way restaurants as a sign that he was a hopeless romantic, but frankly, now that I’d met the man, I didn’t buy that explanation at all.
Nevertheless, I nodded, acting as if I believed him as much as I believed the sign behind him that read, All Our Work Is 100% Guaranteed.
“Ace, you mentioned before that Marnie was totally involved in her career—so much so that she had no time for romance.”
“Ri-i-ight,” he agreed uncertainly, as if he wasn’t sure where I was going with this.
“Did she ever mention any of the stories she was working on?”
He just stared at me.
“Or the fact that she was getting information from a secret source?” I continued. “How about a tape she’d been carrying around, one that might have been a recording of an interview she’d conducted recently?”
“You’re thinkin’ maybe her job got her killed.”
So Ace had a few brain cells in that swelled head of his after all. “I think it’s a possibility,” I ventured.
“Yeah, she did talk to me about that, as a matter of fact. She mentioned she was working on something really dangerous.” The more he talked, the more animated he became. “Yeah, now I remember. Dangerous—that was the exact word she used.”
I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him, mainly because his sudden claim that Marnie was worried about a “dangerous” story she was pursuing went a long way in relieving him of guilt.
“What was it?” I asked.
“She, uh, didn’t say.” I could see his defenses springing up so clearly I felt I was watching a movie about a castle under attack. “Like I told you, we weren’t exactly best friends.”
“Ri-i-ight,” I agreed with the same level of certainty he’d just expressed.
“Listen, I got stuff to do, so is there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?” Ace asked abruptly. “Aside from this misunderstanding about what the nature of my relationship with Marnie is? I mean, was?”
“Actually, there is. There’s something I wanted to give you.” I unbuckled my flowered backpack and took out the framed photograph I’d found in Marnie’s desk at the Dispatch. It was a picture of Marnie and Ace, sitting at a table in what looked like one of those quiet, out-of-the-way restaurants he seemed so fond of. They had their arms slung around each other’s shoulders and they were both grinning at the camera.
As soon as Ace glanced at it, all the blood drained out of his face. “Where’d you get that?” he demanded hoarsely.
“Marnie’s desk. At work.”
“She kept that thing on her desk?” he croaked. In fact, I suspected he sounded the way he had when he was a teenager and his voice started changing.
“In her desk, not on it,” I assured him. “I found it in a drawer.”
“Oh.” He looked relieved. But I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. “I guess that picture must have been taken on, uh, Customer Appreciation Day.”
“I see,” I replied dryly. Ace was turning out to be a lot faster on his feet than I would have expected. Fast, but not particularly skillful. “Anyway, I’m sure she would have liked you to have this. As a token, I mean. Something to remember her by.”
“There’s not much to remember,” he insisted, still unwilling to touch it.
“In that case, maybe I should hang on to this—”
“No!” A lightbulb must have suddenly gone off in Ace’s head, because he grabbed the photograph out of my hand. Maybe he wasn’t the sharpest tack on the bulletin board, but he knew a piece of incriminating evidence when he saw it. Somehow, I had a feeling this photo wasn’t going to end up posted on the wall next to Miss January and her rash-inducing outfit.
“Well, I should probably let you go,” I said, figuring my work at Ace’s art studio was done. I hadn’t known what I’d learn, but I’d learned plenty. “I can see how busy you are. Thanks for your time.”
“Sure,” he said, turning away. “And, uh, thanks for the picture. Catch ya later.”
You know it, I thought. When it came to Ace Atwood, I’d say he ranked pretty high on the list of suspects.
Yet what his motive for murdering his girlfriend might have been, I had yet to determine.
I continued puzzling over the bizarrely different reports Marnie and Ace had given me after I went back to the hotel. Even though the late morning conference session on traditional Chinese acupuncture that I attended was fascinating, I couldn’t keep from pondering the true nature of Marnie and Ace’s relationship.
After wolfing down a buffet lunch provided by a pharmaceutical firm, I headed up to the hotel room. I assumed that Nick was still windsurfing or brooding or however he’d chosen to spend the day.
Instead, I found him sitting on the bed, his cheerful Hawaiian shirt a jarring contradiction to his forlorn expression.
“I miss you,” he announced sheepishly.
“Oh, Nick. I miss you too.” We both ran toward each other, collapsing in each other’s arms somewhere between the closet and the luggage rack. “I’m sorry I got so wrapped up in Marnie Burton’s murder.”
“And I’m sorry if I sounded coldhearted last night. You’re right about her murder being a terrible thing, and I don’t blame you for wanting to help.”
“Let’s start again, okay?” I suggested hopefully. “Can we pretend none of this other stuff even happened?”
“Okay by me.”
To commemorate our decision to turn over a new leaf, we fell onto the bed, still wrapped in each other’s arms.
“At last,” Nick said, doing his best to leer. “I’ve finally got you in my clutches.”
“Oh, yeah?” I murmured. “Now that I’m in these clutches of yours, what are you going to do?”
“Clutch you, for one thing.”
“Is that all?”
“Nope.” Nick’s tone had softened. “I’m going to do this…”
He reached down and gently pulled my hair away from my neck, tickling me as the strands swept across my skin.
“And this…” He leaned over, lightly brushing his lips against my neck.
“And this…” He clasped his mouth against mine in a kiss that was more like the kind I was used to encountering in the movies than in real life.
There’s definitely something to be said for this romantic-getaway business, I thought, kissing him back.
As Nick and I wriggled out of our clothes, I was only vaguely aware of a soft pounding in the background. So it took me a few seconds to realize it wasn’t just my heart.
“Nick,” I murmured, “somebody’s at the door.”
“Hmm?”
“The door. Somebody’s knocking.”
“Must be room service,” Nick murmured.
“I didn’t call room service,” I told him.
“I did.” In response to my puzzled look, he replied, “Champagne. I thought it would be a nice change from all those mai tais. Kind of romantic too, especially in the middle of the day.”
I jumped up, pulled on a fluffy white bathrobe, and opened the door.
“Surprise!” two cheerful voices cried excitedly.
That was an understatement. I’d been expecting a waiter pushing a cart with two glasses and a bottle of Moët & Chandon, not two pale, suitcase-bearing tourists decked out in straw hats, flip-flops, and gaudy Hawaiian shirts, their faces aglow with excitement and jet lag.
“Betty? Winston?” I gasped, blinking. “What are you doing here?”
“See, Win?” Betty said triumphantly. �
�I told you she’d be surprised!”
“She certainly looks surprised,” Winston observed in his dignified English accent. “I imagine we’re the last people you expected to see in Hawaii, aren’t we?”
“Uh, you could say that,” I gasped, still trying to catch my breath.
Betty Vandervoort was one of my dearest friends, as well as my landlady. She lived in the mansion on the Joshua’s Hollow estate that was also the site of the cozy little cottage I rented from her. Even our age difference of forty-odd years didn’t get in the way of our friendship, and I enjoyed stopping in for tea and advice whenever I was in need of either.
I was also fond of her new beau, Winston Farnsworth, who had said good-bye to seventy long ago as well. The dignified Englishman had brought a wonderful new luster to Betty’s already sparkly sapphire blue eyes. The fact that the two of them were struggling to make a go of living together, just as Nick and I were, had brought the four of us even closer.
But I thought I’d left all my friends back on the mainland.
“Betty? Winston?” Nick had come up behind me. He too had had the presence of mind to put something on. Only instead of a bathrobe, the bottom half of him was wrapped in a sheet. “What are you doing here?”
“You two are beginning to sound like Prometheus,” Betty replied gaily, referring to my blue and gold macaw, “the way you keep parroting each other.”
“Perhaps they’re too surprised,” Winston said, sounding uneasy. “Maybe we should have telephoned instead of just dropping in on them like this.”
“Nonsense,” Betty insisted. “I’m sure they’re thrilled to see us.”
“Thrilled,” I assured her. “And surprised.”
“Definitely surprised,” Nick mumbled behind me. “How did you know which room we were in?”
“You should have seen Betty flirting with the hotel clerk,” Winston said proudly. “Our own Mata Hari!”
Betty’s cheeks, which were already red from a bit too much blush, grew flushed. “I know it’s kind of crazy, the two of us just showing up like this. But right after you left, Winston and I were talking about what a wonderful idea it was for the two of you to vacation in Maui. I said I hadn’t been to Hawaii in years—decades, actually—and he said he’d never been here. I told him that one of these days, we had to remedy that. Before we knew it, we were on the phone, making reservations!” She spoke so animatedly that her hot-pink flamingo-shaped earrings swayed wildly from side to side.
“Who’s taking care of my animals?” I asked. “Max and Lou and Cat—”
“They’re fine!” Betty assured me. “You don’t think I’d do anything to endanger those sweeties, do you? I called your veterinarian friend Suzanne, and she picked them all up and brought them straight to her house. By the way, she sends her best. She also said to tell you she hopes you’re having a blast.”
“At least the animals are in good hands,” Nick noted, glancing at me. Turning back to our unexpected guests, he asked, “Uh, where are you two staying?”
“Right here!” Betty replied brightly.
“In this very same hotel!” Winston chimed in.
“That’s great,” I said in a slightly choked voice.
“So, uh, how long are you staying?” Nick asked.
“As long as you two are.” Betty was positively glowing.
“And to get things rolling,” Winston interjected in a jovial voice, “we thought you might both like to help us kick off our vacation in paradise by joining us down at the beach.”
“This hotel has a beautiful beach,” Betty added.
“Don’t you two need time to unpack?” I asked, trying to sound practical instead of hopeful.
“Oh, pshaw.” Betty waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Who has time for that? Besides, what’s a few wrinkles in our clothes? At our age, wrinkles are a way of life!”
“We don’t want to waste a single minute,” Winston piped up. “Not when we’ve come all this way for sun and fun!”
I opened my mouth, hoping a convincing excuse would magically come out of it. Fortunately, Nick came to my rescue.
“Gee, the beach sounds great. But Jessie has to go to a talk in about five minutes. Something on feline…uh, canine…chicken pox, isn’t it?”
“Yes! Yes, I do!” I told them. “I’m really sorry, but the veterinary convention has to come first. It is the main reason I came to Maui, after all.”
“Then you must join us, Nick,” Winston insisted. “We’ll keep you occupied while Jessica is busy with her conference.”
“Sounds great,” Nick said heartily, “but, uh, I’m signed up for a scuba-diving lesson.” Quickly, he added, “A private lesson.”
“Too bad,” Betty cooed.
“But we’ll definitely catch up with you later,” Winston said.
“Later,” Nick agreed. “Definitely.”
“This is going to be such a kick!” Betty cried. “Think of all the fun we’ll have, just the four of us!”
Funny, I thought gloomily, glancing over at Nick. And here I’d been thinking about all the fun the two of us would be having.
As soon as we closed the door behind Betty and Winston—after promising to get together as soon as possible for either sunset mai tais, which was our idea, or a surfing lesson, which was Betty’s—I turned to Nick and sighed.
“Thanks for getting us out of going to the beach,” I told him. “It’s not that I don’t adore Betty and Winston…but here? Now? This was supposed to be a romantic getaway for just the two of us!”
“We’ll figure out a way to enjoy their company but still have plenty of time alone together,” Nick said. He let his sheet drop to the floor. “Like right now.”
I happened to catch sight of my watch. Instantly a jolt of adrenaline shot through me, one that had nothing to do with the glint in his eyes. “Now?” I squawked.
“Now, where were we?” he murmured, gently tugging at the belt of my bathrobe.
I clamped my hands around it, bracing myself for his reaction when I told him that wherever we were before, we weren’t about to go there again. At least, not right now.
“Nick, I have to go.” Before he had a chance to utter the words that matched the confused look on his face, I explained, “There really is someplace I have to be in about twenty minutes. I’m already running late.”
His expression changed immediately. He looked as forlorn as Lou, my Dalmatian, whenever he watched me leave the house, car keys in hand, without inviting him to join me. “But room service hasn’t even brought our champagne yet! Besides, I thought you said you weren’t planning to go to any lectures this afternoon.”
“It’s not about the conference.” I hesitated. “It’s about Marnie Burton’s murder.”
I braced myself for all the fury of the Mauna Loa volcano. And that’s exactly what I got.
“Why did you bother to bring me all this way if it wasn’t to spend at least a little time with me?” he demanded, grabbing his sheet off the floor and holding it in front of him like a giant three-hundred-thread-count fig leaf. “I thought this was our chance to get away together. Instead, you’re totally obsessed with this Marnie person that you only met once—”
“I know I only met her once. But I’m involved, Nick! Whether you believe me or not, whoever killed her thinks I have something he’s after!”
“What about the Maui Police Department?” Nick demanded. “Isn’t this supposed to be their job?”
“I know it’s their job, and of course they’re working on it. But aside from the horror of what happened to that poor young woman, I could be in danger. You could be in danger!”
Nick cast me a look that qualified him to be the poster boy for skepticism.
“I thought you understood!” I cried.
“I do—up to a point. I know you’ve gotten involved in murder investigations before. I can’t say I completely understand it, other than that being in the wrong place at the wrong time happens to be a quirk of yours. But I do
n’t understand why you have to run off right now, just as you and I were about to—”
“Okay, here’s why: because I have an appointment with someone who knew her. Someone who worked with her, in fact. Because she might help me figure out who killed Marnie and what they wanted so badly that they broke into our hotel room to get their hands on it. Because at this very moment, she’s probably sitting in a coffee shop in Lahaina—and from the way she sounded on the phone, looking for a reason not to wait for me.”
“Fine,” Nick retorted. “If you keep insisting that the fact that you misplaced that stupid conference packet means you’re next on some crazed murderer’s hit list, fine. If that’s how you want to spend your vacation on Maui, then fine. But don’t expect me to sit around waiting for you while you live out your Miss Marple fantasies!” He grabbed a bathing suit, his snorkel and fins, and a towel, then strode toward the door.
“Then don’t!” I exclaimed. “That’s fine with me.”
“Fine!” he cried.
“Fine!” I shot back.
But as I heard him slam the door on his way out, I didn’t feel even close to fine.
Chapter 6
“If a dog jumps in your lap, it is because he is fond of you; but if a cat does the same thing, it is because your lap is warmer.”
—Alfred North Whitehead
Despite being a Mecca for tourists, the town of Lahaina managed to retain the quaint, old-fashioned feeling of the whaling center it became a few decades after the missionaries arrived and forced the natives out of their grass skirts and loincloths and into muumuus and aloha shirts. Its main thoroughfare, Front Street, was lined with weatherworn wooden buildings that gave the impression that some enterprising individual with a deeply rooted Walt Disney complex had transported an entire nineteenth-century whaling town all the way from New England.
According to Nick’s guidebook, the picturesque port was the home of Seamen’s Cemetery, Seamen’s Hospital, and a prison that had undoubtedly gotten a lot of use during the town’s raucous thar-she-blows days. Even Herman Melville had dropped in for some wild partying, 1800s-style, during his stint as a sailor.
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