And came to a screeching halt. My bag was nowhere in sight. Great, I thought. Just fantabulous. I fumbled in my pocket for my cell then realized that I'd stuffed it into my bag when I'd set up for the evening's shoot. Wheeling around, I managed to catch the edge of my sandals on the raised edge of the walkway and fell flat on my tush. In my world, when one thing went wrong, everything else followed suit.
"You ok there, miss?"
The polite voice came from behind me, and I swiveled my head around to see who it was. Standing there in traditional island garb was a young man, maybe nineteen or twenty, whose face looked vaguely familiar.
"Yeah, I'm good," I said, struggling to stand up with my muumuu wrapped around my legs, its billowing folds threatening to put me back on my behind once again.
"Here, let me help." He offered his hand, giving me enough leverage to regain my feet. "I'm Dax Toki, by the way."
"Toki? As in Jimmy?" I asked then felt a blush creeping up my neck. Dax grinned down at me, his height reminding me that these island guys were available in very large sizes indeed.
"Yep," he said, a wide smile on his handsome face. "I'm related to Jimmy. First cousin, in fact. Our dads are brothers."
"It's nice to meet you," I said, attempting to regain what little dignity I had left. "I'm Autumn." I left my surname out of the mix. I didn't need any ribbing at the moment.
A sudden thought about what I was doing there hit me, and I felt my face slipping back into sober mode. "Hey, you haven't seen a black bag about so big, have you?" I used my hands to indicate the approximate dimensions, looking up hopefully as I did.
"What kind of bag? Like luggage? Or something like that?" Dax turned and pointed at the line of tables. On it sat a black bag—my bag. "You're welcome!" he called after me as I made a beeline for the ramada.
I waved my thanks in return.
I grabbed up the canvas carryall and began opening zippers, checking to see that my gear was still there. I knew one thing for sure—if I didn't have my camera and all the accessories that I'd acquired over the past few years, I was sunk.
The good news was, all my lenses, flashes, and even my cell phone was still in the pocket where I'd stashed it. The bad news was that my camera was nowhere to be found. I distinctly remembered dropping the bag in the grass to run after Jimmy, which meant someone had moved it and stolen my camera.
I did that walk-run thing that I had to do in flip-flops, heading back toward the main building and the Starfish Room. What had Juls called it? Pe'pe'a? I did a mental practice with the word, stumbling slightly over the choppy vowel sounds. As beautiful as the language was, I still struggled with the basics.
"Yo! Short lady!"
The voice was unmistakably Jimmy's. His various names for me were funny…sometimes. I had a bit of an issue when it came to commentary on my height.
"Yo! Big guy!" I said in response. Not the zingiest of comebacks, but it was the only thing I could think of on the fly. Relief washed over me as I took in his comforting presence. If anyone could help me find my camera, it was Jimmy.
Jimmy raced toward me, grabbing my arm and pulling me back to the pier. "There's someone I want you to meet."
I wanted to tell him about the missing camera but was distracted by the sheet-covered stretcher that now sat front and center at the head of the table. A shiver crawled over my skin, and I wrapped my arms tightly around my middle. Poor Noe.
"Detective Ray?"
Detective Ray turned around, and I took in the badge clipped to his belt, what appeared to be a coffee stain on his off-white button-down shirt, and pants that seemed as if they'd never met an iron. He wasn't at all how Hollywood portrayed detectives.
"This is the photographer I was telling you about." Detective Ray stuck out his hand, but before I could introduce myself, Jimmy continued, "We need to make sure that you share your photos with us as soon as you can. Detective Ray would like to see if you caught anything on film."
"That might be a bit difficult," I said. "When I went back to retrieve my camera bag, it had been moved, and my camera is nowhere to be seen."
I was trying to keep things in perspective. Ultimately, a missing camera was nothing compared to being dead. The loss of the camera meant using my backup, a digital number I kept on hand for when the situation warranted. I'd saved up for almost a year to buy the new Nikon 35mm camera just a few short months before and had traded my previous 35mm in to make up the difference in the purchase. It was disappointing that I'd never been able to use it to capture the amazing surfing pictures I'd dreamed about.
"Are you sure?" Detective Ray asked. "Did you look around the surrounding areas to be certain?"
My opinion of the esteemed detective dropped a little more. Not only did he more closely resemble a bedraggled homeless man than a distinguished detective, but he'd questioned my ability to adequately search a small area for a camera.
Did he think I was an idiot? The retort on my lips was interrupted, thank goodness, when Jimmy said, "Where'd you leave it? And where did you find your bag?"
I pointed to the table where my bag had been found. "Dax found it over there, but I'd left it where you found me earlier near the pier ramp."
"You met Dax?" Jimmy asked, his eyebrows drawing together.
"I did."
He nodded. I could tell he wanted to say more, but since Detective Ray was waiting patiently for our personal conversation to end, he must have thought better of it.
Detective Ray took out a small notebook and a pen from his pocket, licking the tips of his fingers to flip it open to his desired spot.
"Ms.…" he asked, and I realized I'd never given him my name.
"Autumn," I replied, hoping I could do without the surname. No such luck.
Scribbling my name down on his pad, he didn't look up when he asked, "You have a last name, Autumn?"
"Season."
The detective's gaze jerked up to mine, a grin plastered on his face. "You're joking, right?"
He sure wasn't winning any brownie points with me. "Unfortunately, no. That is my name." I rolled my eyes. It was hard to believe that the detective hadn't encountered worse names than mine in his career. A little professionalism would be nice.
He sniggered but wrote it down. "Ms. Season, can you tell me where you were tonight around 7:30?"
Taken aback at the accusation in the question, my mouth hung open, and I looked at Jimmy for help. He shrugged as if to say, Just answer it.
"Juls Kekoa hired me to take photos of the guests as they arrived. Once I was finished with that, I walked around getting some behind-the-scenes pictures as well as some candid shots of the luau." He couldn't think I was the one responsible for killing Noe, could he?
"Did you know the deceased, Noe Kahale?" he asked, continuing to write on his notepad and not making eye contact.
I wondered if he'd notice if I stuck my tongue out at him. I decided not to take the chance.
"Just briefly. I met him and his fiancée as they stepped up for pictures. We talked for a few minutes, but that was it."
"Did you notice anything off about him?"
I remembered the tension between him and Kailani, but I didn't think that counted. "Not really."
"Do you think you could have caught anything on film tonight?"
"I guess it's possible. I was taking a lot of pictures, but I didn't notice anything that I can remember."
The detective flipped his notepad closed with a smack and stuck it back into his pocket. He eyed me carefully, and I assumed he was trying to determine whether or not I was lying. I held his gaze. I had nothing to hide.
"Detective! Detective!" A man in a white chef's coat and hat ran up to us, his face red and his breaths coming fast.
I recognized him from the food-prep tent, Chef Aki.
"Yes?" Detective Ray took a step back, looking the man over carefully.
"Detective, the sushi. It is not my sushi."
Confusion marred the detective's features as he took
his pad out of his pocket again.
Putting the pen to the pad, the detective asked, "What do you mean, it's not your sushi?"
Chef Aki took a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself. "A policeman asked me what was in the sushi. He show me the sushi. The sushi served to that man is not my sushi. My sushi is tuna. That"—he pointed to what was left of the dish where Noe had been sitting—"is not tuna. Tuna pink. That fish. White, almost see-through."
I was struggling to keep up. Whether it was Chef Aki's thick accent or his halted deliverance, I failed to see what was so important about the color of the fish.
It appeared Detective Ray and Jimmy were also having a hard time following as they peered at each other with identical looks of befuddlement on their faces.
Chef Aki grunted in response and picked up the dish.
"Wait!" Detective Ray started.
The chef ignored him. He scooped up a piece of the sushi and pointed to it. "That is not tuna. I think"—he took a sniff of it, and with a jerk of his head, he pronounced it—"fugu."
We all stood, our mouths gaping open like the proverbial fish, and stared at each other—no one really knowing what the man was talking about.
With another grunt, the chef said, "Pufferfish. Highly poisonous. One fish can kill thirty men."
And then the pieces of the puzzle started to fit together.
"Are you sure?" the detective asked, taking out his pad and writing down the new information.
"That it is not tuna, yes. That it is fugu, no. But it is what I think."
Detective Ray took down the chef's information, sending him on his way. Turning to Jimmy, he said, "Well, it appears we have ourselves a murder on our hands." He sighed, mumbling to himself under his breath.
I couldn't make out most of the words but was pretty sure I heard him say something like "not again."
Turning to Jimmy, Detective Ray pushed a hand through his hair, fatigue pulling his brows together and his lips taut.
"Mr. Toki, I'd suggest keeping an eye on Ms. Season for a couple of days."
"Sure," Jimmy started.
Bristling at the insinuation that I couldn't take care of myself— I was an independent woman and didn't need a big, strong man to "keep an eye on me"—I cocked my hip, my fist landing on it with emphasis. "And why does he need to keep an eye on me?"
"If someone took your camera, then that someone probably believes you caught something on film tonight that they don't want anyone to know about."
The detective's tired gaze narrowed, his voice deadly calm. "And if they think you caught it on film, then they might want to make sure there are no loose ends, if you get my drift."
I swallowed hard.
"Keep your head up, Ms. Season, and watch your back."
With those ominous words, the detective strode off into the building. A chill crept down my spine as realization dawned. The killer had my camera.
CHAPTER THREE
"The killer has my camera." The words kept going through my mind as if on a constant loop. I'd hoped that saying it out loud might put an end to the instant replay, but it didn't seem to work.
I flung myself back against the forest green, tufted velvet couch that was the focal point in my living room. Well, it was really one big open space. Housing was uber expensive in Hawaii, so I had been fortunate to land an amazing pseudo-studio apartment with the best landlords in the world. Tom and Doris Berry had a gorgeous home and had added an in-law suite onto the side of the house years ago. They'd decided to rent that space out so they could afford to travel the world. In exchange for inexpensive rent, they'd have someone constantly watching their home while they were away.
The open floor plan left me with little privacy as my bedroom was separated by a cased opening, no door, with a small full bath off to the side. French doors opened up to a beautiful Hawaiian lanai surrounded by potted tropical flowers that I had, so far, been able to keep alive. The kitchen was separated from the room by a short bar, and the rest of the apartment was sectioned off by furniture.
"I think you should take some time off, maybe go home for a couple of weeks until this blows over," Jimmy said, plopping himself onto the sofa next to me.
His arm circled my shoulders, but I sat up out of reach. "What? You think I'm in that much danger?" I wasn't about to go running back home with my tail between my legs just because someone—who might or might not be a killer—stole my camera. "We aren't even sure it was the killer. It could have been anyone," I lied. We both knew whoever took that camera had reason to. Otherwise all my lenses and my cell phone would be gone too.
"I don't know that you're in danger. But since the killer doesn't have a red room to get the film developed and you don't use digital—" He rolled his eyes at me. Jimmy didn't understand my aversion to digital photography. It's not like I never used it. It just didn't suit my artistic personality. There was something magical about the red room, and digital photography couldn't compete. "I'm just worried he'll come after you to make sure you don't share anything you might have seen."
I shivered, the goose bumps popping out along my arms and down my legs. Mistaking my shivers for cold, Jimmy pulled a blanket over us. The thought of a killer coming after me really didn't appeal to me. But this was my home. The first time I'd done something on my own—followed my dreams.
Growing up with so many siblings meant my parents didn't have a lot of time or money to go around. We were each allowed to do one activity a year. It took several tries before I found what I loved—photography. Coming to Hawaii to follow my dreams was a big step, and I wasn't going to be scared off by something that might or might not happen.
"Not leaving, Jimmy." I nestled under his arm and borrowed from his strength for just a little bit. I might act all tough on the outside, but on the inside I was a shaking mess. I'd take comfort anywhere I could get it.
"You put your personal information on that camera, didn't you?" Jimmy gazed into my eyes, knowing the answer before I opened my mouth. "So he has your phone number and your address."
"You're really not helping, you know?"
"I'm just saying, it might be good for you to just go away—"
"No," I interrupted. I watched as his massive chest rose with a big breath and then fell as he blew it out.
"Fine. Want to watch a movie?"
"Not really. Will you just stay for a little while?" I knew it was late, but having Jimmy there made me feel protected.
"Sure."
He closed his arms around me, and I inhaled his scent. Jimmy always smelled so good, like coconut and sunshine and something uniquely Jimmy.
"Did you talk to Kailani Chan?" His voice rumbled in his chest under my ear, sounding deeper and slightly muffled.
"Noe's fiancée?"
Jimmy's head bobbed against my hair.
"I did. She told me about the moments right before he died. How his mouth was tingling and then he turned blue. It must have been horrible for her." Tears welled in my eyes. I didn't know Noe, not really. But he had seemed to be a nice guy, and Kailani seemed like a sweet girl. I just hated that he'd died like that.
"Detective Ray spoke with her tonight, and I'm sure he'll be talking more with her tomorrow. He's a good detective. A little rough around the edges, but I have total faith he'll find the guy that did this."
I relaxed a little. I hadn't been terribly impressed with the rumpled detective, but I was probably biased due to his little dig about my name.
"Do you think she knows something?" I tilted my head up to meet Jimmy's eyes.
His eyebrows pulled together, creating two little creases above the bridge of his nose. It wasn't often Jimmy was so serious. One would think that in the security world, he'd be this big, serious guy who walked around glaring at everyone. But instead, Jimmy was a fun-loving guy. Always playful and full of joy. It was rare to see him worked up about something.
"I'm sure she knows something, whether she realizes it or not. Poisoning is a pretty personal way of killing s
omeone."
"Isn't all killing personal?"
"True, it is. But this had to take some serious planning. Sneaking the fugu sushi, if that's what he used, into the food-prep tent and ensuring it went to the right person. It certainly was ballsy."
I snickered at Jimmy's choice of words but sobered when I thought about how easily the killer had changed out Noe's sushi. I wondered if the resort would lose business after this debacle.
"Crap!" I sat straight up, knocking the blanket off and to the floor.
"What is it?" Jimmy asked, worry marring his perfect features.
"All the pictures. From tonight. They're all gone. I'm going to have to tell Juls tomorrow. So much for getting a permanent job at the resort."
"I'll go with you. I'm sure she'll understand. It's not like it's your fault. Plus, with the amount of damage control they're doing over this latest incident, I think photographs are the last thing on her mind."
I relaxed back against Jimmy as his arms circled me once again. Picking up the remote, I turned on Netflix. Scrolling through my options in watch it again, I clicked on The Office, losing myself in Michael Scott's antics.
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew my pillow was moving. I woke with a start and saw Jimmy trying to inch his way out from under me. In my unconscious state, I'd wrapped myself around him like a pretzel.
Embarrassed, I stood up quickly, smoothing down my hair and adjusting my wrinkled muumuu. Why hadn't I changed?
"It's late, and I have an early morning. Unless—" he said, pausing for a moment as he darted a look to my couch. "You want me to stay? I could sleep on the couch."
My stomach flipped at the thought of him sleeping so nearby. "Of course not. My couch isn't big enough for all of this—" I waved my hand over his body.
He grinned like a man who knew he was hot.
"Go home. Get some sleep." I giggled nervously and cringed.
Why did I feel so awkward? Oh, that's right. I'd just spent a couple of hours sprawled out on top of him. And wait, was that—oh my gosh. It was. Drool. Right there on his shirt. I was going to die.
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