Handbags & Homicide

by Anne Marie Stoddard

  "I got here early for my lifeguard shift," he said, folding his arms protectively around me. "I found out about the body as soon as I stepped into the lobby. Summer said the girl who died checked in with your bachelorette crew last night. I tried calling you a few times, and I got worried when you didn't answer. So, I called Rikki and then came looking for you." Noa squeezed me. "I'm so sorry, Kales. Are you all right?" he asked softly.

  I sagged against his chest, moisture pricking my eyes. "No," I said, my voice ragged. Hot tears slid down my cheeks, and he held me while I cried. "Can we get out of here?" I asked after a few moments. Several curious pairs of eyes had turned our way, peering at me with interest.

  Noa nodded in understanding. "You got it."

  I stepped out of his embrace and took his hand. Together, we pushed our way through the sea of people and hurried down the boardwalk. We didn't stop until we reached the courtyard next to the merchant area of the resort. I perched on the edge of a bench several yards from the entrance to one of the Olympic-sized swimming pools, and Noa dropped down beside me.

  "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly. His expression became strained. "It wasn't your friend, was it? Emma?"

  "No," I said quickly, and his face instantly relaxed. "Emma's okay, but she's very upset."

  "Understandable," Noa replied, pulling me closer. "What happened?"

  I wiped the last few tears from my eyes and then swiveled so that I was facing him. I filled him in on my missing purse and how we'd tracked my phone to the beach. He listened quietly, his brow furrowing deeper with worry as I explained that we'd discovered my bag buried in the sand with Valentina's body. "And apparently Emma sneaked out of the room to be with Dante after I fell asleep last night, so I don't have a solid alibi." I sighed. "You should have seen the way Detective Ray looked at me when he found out Val was my ex-husband's new girlfriend. If I hadn't panicked and told him that Bryan was here too, he'd probably be hauling me down to the station right about now."

  Noa stiffened. "Bryan's here?"

  Uh-oh. My stomach sank down to the courtyard tiles. I hadn't seen Noa since before I'd gone to the airport to pick up the girls, so I hadn't had a chance to tell him about my ex's unexpected arrival along with the rest of the wedding party. He and Noa had never gotten along, largely because Noa had harbored feelings for me since we were in high school. When I'd left the islands to marry Bryan, it had driven a wedge between Noa and me for years. We'd only recently reconciled. Just the mention of Bryan in conversation was enough to make Noa brood—having him back on the island might tear open those old wounds.

  "I didn't know he was coming," I explained, feeling guilty. "But I should have told you as soon as I ran into him."

  Noa looked at me through hooded eyes. "You've talked to him?" Though he tried to hide it, I detected the hurt in his voice. Noa was the most confident, charming man I'd ever met. Could he really be so insecure about me speaking to my cheating, scumbag ex? He had to know there wasn't a snowball's chance in a volcano that I'd ever consider taking Bryan back. Right?

  I sucked in a breath and pushed it out slowly. "Yes," I said. "I spoke to Bry at the airport—very briefly. He just wanted to say hello, but I gave him the cold shoulder." I frowned. "Emma was worried I'd cause a stink if she'd told me ahead of time that he was going to be here. She also failed to mention that she'd asked two of his cheer sluts to be in the wedding party." I was struck by a sudden flash of anger, but I forced it down. My feelings about my ex and his mistresses weren't important right now. One of the women was dead, and someone on the island had killed her.

  And I just pointed the police straight toward Bryan. Detective Ray was going to find my ex-hubby as soon as he'd finished taking statements from Emma and Mia. Though I knew that news of the death had already spread around the resort, the victim's identity may not have made it all the way through the resort gossip mill just yet. What if Bryan was innocent? Then he might not even know that Val is dead. The horrible realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. It was possible that he was about to be blindsided when the detective showed up to question him about her murder. And it'll be my fault.

  "I've got to find him," I said suddenly, rising from the bench.

  Noa blinked at me. "Huh? Find Bryan? But you just said—"

  "I know." I held up a hand as I cut him off. "But put yourself in his shoes. What if something happened to me?" I shuddered inwardly at the thought. "How would you feel if you didn't find out until the cops were knocking down your door to accuse you of hurting me—or worse?"

  His expression became pinched. "I'd be devastated," he admitted.

  "Then you understand why I need to get to Bryan before Detective Ray does. If he doesn't know that Val is dead…" I trailed off, feeling another rush of guilt.

  Noa squinted at me. "Are you sure you're up to that, though?" he asked softly. "I mean, haven't you already been through enough trauma this morning?"

  Though he was trying to be supportive, I thought I detected a hint of vulnerability in his voice. Was he really jealous of my ex?

  "Yes, I'm sure," I said, giving Noa a pointed look. "It's the right thing to do."

  "Of course." He stood up and placed his hand on the small of my back. "I'll go with you—for support," he added quickly when I blinked at him in surprise. As badly as I disliked Bryan, Noa hated him tenfold. I wasn't sure it was a good idea to put the two of them in the same room together, but I didn't protest. Truthfully, I was glad to have him by my side.

  "Fine," I said, giving him what I hoped was a grateful smile.

  Noa pulled out his phone as he followed me toward the resort's main building. "I'm going to call Remy and ask if he can stay longer and cover my lifeguard shift," he said. "Once we've found Bryan, I'll take you home so you can get some rest. You must be exhausted."

  "I'm all right," I insisted, gesturing for him to put the phone away. Adrenaline could work wonders as a hangover cure—I was as alert as if I'd had a shot or two of espresso with a Big Gulp of coffee for a chaser. "Besides, Emma was a mess when I left the beach. I should stick close by in case she needs me when she's done giving her statement to the cops."

  "That's so kind of you," Noa said, beaming at me as he dropped his phone back into the pocket of his board shorts. "Emma is lucky to have you for a friend."

  "She'd do the same for me," I told him. "Em and I have always had each other's backs." At least, she used to have mine, I added silently. Maybe I didn't deserve Noa's praise. Though I did want to be there to support my friend, I also wanted to talk to her about her late-night disappearing act. Could Emma really not go a single night without being with Dante? If that were the case, why would she have initially booked the trip to Hawaii without him? I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something that Em hadn't wanted to tell Detective Ray.

  Or maybe something she hadn't wanted to say in front of me, I thought, recalling the way she'd refused to meet my gaze. Had it been guilt from knowing that, by telling the police her whereabouts, she would ruin my alibi? Or was there something else she was hiding?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When Noa and I reached the main lobby, we made a beeline for the concierge's desk. Summer was working that morning, and though she smiled when she saw us, her eyes were pinched with sympathy. "I'm so sorry about your friend, Kaley," she said as we reached the counter.

  The term friend wasn't one I'd use to describe Valentina Cruz, but I had nothing to gain by speaking ill of the dead. "Thank you." I gave her a half smile and leaned across the counter. "I need to find her boyfriend," I said, my tone low and urgent. "He's staying here at the resort with four other men. I don't think he knows what's happened yet, and I need to tell him before he learns about it from the press." Or the police.

  "Sure." Summer's gaze shifted to her computer monitor, and her hands moved over the keyboard. "What's his name?"

  I glanced around the crowded lobby. A woman in a wide-brimmed beach hat was browsing a rack of excursion brochures an
d pamphlets at the far end of the front desk. She seemed preoccupied with an unfolded Nature Lovers map of the island, probably looking for one of the many hiking trails near the cliffs that overlooked the ocean. Aside from her, no other guests were within earshot. I exhaled with relief.

  Lowering my voice so that it was just barely above a whisper, I asked, "Do you have any rooms booked under the names Dante Becker or Bryan Colfax?"

  Summer's pencil-thin brows rose. "Bryan Colfax? Isn't that the name of your ex-hus—" She seemed to catch herself. Summer looked from me to Noa and then tucked her chin. "Sorry," she said, her tone sheepish. "I didn't mean to pry."

  "It's okay," I said evenly. I wasn't surprised that she knew what had happened between Bryan and me. The details of my divorce had made national headlines thanks to my ex's star athlete status, and gossip on the resort spread faster than wildfire. I thought for a minute, trying to recall one of the aliases that the guys sometimes used to book hotels when they wanted to travel incognito. "If you don't see rooms under either of those names, try Dasher Byrd. It's the moniker Bryan gives when he doesn't want nosy reporters or paparazzi finding out where he's staying."

  Noa snorted. "A running back for the Falcons uses the alias Dasher 'Bird'? Isn't that a little on the nose?"

  Summer smirked in agreement as she tapped away on her keyboard. A moment later, her smile vanished, and she blinked at the screen. "How about that? There is a Dasher Byrd staying in one of the luxury suites on the top floor."

  I gave myself a mental high five. "Great! Can you give us the room number?"

  It wasn't until Summer was writing the information down for us on a piece of resort stationary that I noticed the woman who had been browsing the brochure rack had moved closer. She was hovering just behind Noa. Though her face was still hidden behind the map, I detected a nervous energy in her posture. As Summer slid the sheet of paper toward me from across the counter, the mystery woman peeked around the side of the map, and I caught a glimpse of her face. Recognition shocked through me, accompanied by white hot anger.

  Felicity freaking Chase.

  Felicity Chase was a journalist for the local paper, the Aloha Sun. She was also an insatiable gossip. She'd take any tidbit thrown her way and run with it, crafting the most salacious stories for the Sun's entertainment column and social media posts. In fact, after stalking some of the resort's celebrity guests, she'd been banned from stepping foot on the property—which, I supposed, was why she was skulking around with her face hidden behind the tourist map. She must have heard about the murder and camped out in the lobby, waiting to catch someone she could pump for details.

  "You shouldn't be here, Felicity," I growled at her.

  Realizing she'd blown her cover, the reporter dropped the map on the counter. Noa whirled to face her, and in one swift motion, she sidestepped past him and snatched the piece of stationary from the counter. "Thanks for the lead!" she sang as she sprinted toward the elevators, her chestnut tresses flowing behind her.

  Summer reached for her desk phone. "I'll alert security," she called as Noa and I darted after the woman.

  Noa had almost caught up to Felicity when a group of children wandered through the lobby and right into his path. He halted abruptly, and I almost collided with his back as I skittered to a stop behind him. A harried-looking young mother ushered the kids along, oblivious that her little clan had hampered our pursuit. The diversion gave Felicity the few extra seconds she needed to reach an open elevator and slip inside. She grinned at us, wiggling her fingers in a taunting little wave as the double doors closed.

  I swore under my breath. "We can't let her get to Bryan," I said breathlessly.

  "Room 732, right?" Noa asked, meeting my gaze. "That's what Summer wrote on the paper?" I'd barely nodded a confirmation before he turned and raced toward the door that led to the stairwell.

  I removed my flip-flops and ran after him, taking the stairs two at a time. My morning jogs with Aunt Rikki hadn't quite prepared me for dashing up six flights of stairs. By the time we reached the seventh floor, my heart was pounding in my ears, and my chest felt as if it were going to explode. Noa pushed open the door at the top of the stairwell, and we tumbled into the hallway. Felicity's elevator must have been held up on a floor or two, because she was still standing outside Bryan's room, her arm raised and hand poised to knock.

  "Stop!" I yelled, running toward her with a burst of renewed energy.

  "Sorry," she called back, offering me a smug expression. "I need a big story for this week's paper, and this is too juicy to pass up. The murder of a star athlete's lover?" Her mouth curved in a wicked grin. "Sorry, Kaley. It's nothing personal." Felicity turned around and rapped her knuckles on the door.

  In a fit of rage, I did the only thing I could think to do. I threw both of my flip-flops at her. The first spongy shoe hit her cheek with a soft smack, and the second pelted against her leg.

  Felicity whirled to face me, surprise and anger flashing in her eyes. "Did you just—"

  Her words were cut short as I plowed into her, shoving her out of the way. "Bryan!" I cried, banging on the door. "It's Kaley. We need to talk."

  Noa reached us just as Felicity recovered from my attack and lunged at me. She tried to wedge her way in front of me, but Noa gripped her arms and pulled her backward. "Get your paws off me!" she snarled.

  As the three of us grappled in the hallway, the door to the suite opened. One of Dante's other groomsmen, Tom Evans, loomed in the threshold, his broad shoulders blocking our view into the room. "What do you want?" he asked, his dark, angry eyes boring a hole into my forehead.

  I took a step back, bumping into Noa. He released his grip on Felicity, which gave her a chance to dart in front of us.

  "Hi, there! My name is Felicity Chase, and I'm a reporter for the Aloha Sun. I'd love to get a comment from you about the terrible tragedy that occurred this morning." She tried to peek around the big man. "I understand the murder victim was the girlfriend of Falcons' running back, Bryan Colfax. He's staying in this room, correct?"

  Felicity shrank back when Tom shot her a withering look. "We don't talk to reporters," the bald man growled in his deep, Vin Diesel–like bass.

  "But I just—" Felicity began, but he cut her off.

  "Go," he warned.

  "Is Bryan in there?" I asked, stepping around the flustered journalist. "I didn't know if he'd heard about Valentina yet, and I—"

  "He knows," Tom said. His jaw clenched. "And you're the last person he wants to talk to right now. You're poison."

  "Hey, watch it, brah." Noa was at my side in the blink of an eye, his chest puffed out and the vein in his neck straining with barely controlled anger. "You can't talk to her like that."

  Tom eyed him, as if noticing him for the first time. A look of amusement flickered across his features before the scowl slipped back into place. "Son, you do not want a piece of me."

  I gulped. Though Noa was in great physical shape, he was no match for the massive pro linebacker. He might get in a few good licks, but if Tom wanted to, he could pound him into the carpet without breaking a sweat.

  "Noa," I said, my tone soft but urgent. "It's okay." I met Tom's gaze. "We'll leave." The man had never liked me, and everyone's emotions were high right now—which was understandable, given the circumstances. I'd come to deliver the news to Bryan, but it was too late. He already knew. At least he'd found out before the police showed up. Plus he had his friends to console him. The best thing we could do at the moment was go. But first…

  "There's just one thing," I added in a tiny voice, feeling my guilt resurface. "The police may show up wanting to ask Bryan a few questions."

  A vein throbbed in Tom's forehead. "What did you do?" he growled.

  I held my hands out in front of me in a placating manner. "Nothing. I just—"

  "Leave Bryan alone," he said, glaring at me. The warning in his tone was unmistakable. "He's been through enough this year without you causing even more trouble." Tom ste
pped back, giving me a momentary glimpse into the room. Dante, Freddy, and Will were gathered around Bryan, who was seated on a chair in the far corner with his head in his hands. I felt my face go slack as I caught sight of Coco Becker kneeling beside him, speaking in a low tone while she gently rubbed his back. What is she doing up here?

  Before I could say anything, Tom slammed the door in my face. Hard. I sighed. "He's never been my biggest fan," I muttered to Noa.

  "Why not?" The question came from Felicity. For a moment, I'd forgotten she was still there. I turned to find her standing behind Noa, her gaze ping-ponging back and forth from me to the closed door. She flashed me that familiar, predatory smile she wore when she thought she'd found a juicy story hook. "That man's a football star too, right? Do you also have a romantic history with him?" Her face lit up, and I could see the whites of her eyes. "Let me guess—he asked you out, but you rejected him, and he's still a little bit hurt about it. Or"—her smile grew even wider—"were you still married when Mr. Tall, Dark, and Stormy made a pass at you? That would make a much better angle."

  I glared at her. I've got an angle for you, I thought, seething. My hands balled into fists at my sides. The elevator dinged at the end of the hall, and I quickly uncurled my fingers. Fighting with the shady reporter wasn't worth my time. "You're one hell of a 'reporter,' Felicity," I said, pouring as much sarcasm as I could into my tone. I turned to Noa. "Come on. Let's get out of here." I no longer cared if the she stuck around—with Big Tom Evans serving as the bouncer for Bryan's suite, there was no way she was going to pester anyone in that room.

  I turned to find the resort's head of security, Jimmy Toki, stepping off the open elevator. "Miss Chase," he boomed as he stalked toward us.