Deadly Bubbles in the Wine (Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Book 4)

by Mary Jo Burke

Overruled, bitch.

  "And you are leaving," Detective Ray said as he gave me a shove out the door and closed it.

  The cop leaned against the wall and watched me.

  "Let's go," I said to him as I proceeded down the hall.

  He signed out a squad car, and we rode to the Aloha Lagoon Resort.

  Unemployed, framed, and starved. I hadn't seen any T-shirts printed with that catchy saying. Maybe that was my next profession, selling desperate shirts on the beach.

  I returned to the Aloha Lagoon and the swarm of media. Deborah had been busy—or should I say my former public relations colleagues in her office were behind this press push. A lover's triangle played out with deadly consequences in beautiful Hawaii. I starred as the wronged woman and chief suspect. People screamed my name, and flashes went off in my face.

  Let the spin begin.

  My buddy, Rachel Wein, came outside with some security guards and escorted me to her office.

  "Detective Kahoalani informed me that you can't leave the island, but you'll have to leave the hotel—orders straight from management. People are freaked out by having a suspected killer here. I am sorry, and you will be refunded for the remaining days," Rachel said.

  "I get it. Would you know of any hotels around that don't mind housing possible murderers?" I asked as I spied my luggage stacked against the wall.

  "No, I'm sorry," she said.

  Can I get an aloha?

  I grabbed my meager belongings and headed out to the lobby and into the hungry mob.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "Chivalry is dead. There are no gentlemen to help a lady with her bags or even to offer a trolley to cart them," Ellen said as she rushed toward me.

  "Why didn't I think of public shaming?" I asked as a few bellhops suddenly appeared and hoisted my cases.

  Ellen instructed them to carry my stuff to her waiting cab.

  "My dear, I've had decades more experience with love and loss. Now, you need a warm bath, lunch, and a spot of whiskey," she said as she hooked her arm in mine, and we left.

  Ellen fussed over me as she led a tour around her cozy and snug home. The living room had an overstuffed chair with a matching loveseat, a tall overhanging lamp, and a coffee table laden with books. A small dining area lay beyond with ceramic candlesticks and lace doilies on the table. The simple kitchen contained a corner breakfast nook and stainless steel appliances. The walls were done in sunny yellows with a hint of royal blue. The bakery was ten paces out the back door. Two bedrooms were both blooming with pink and floral prints, antique furniture, and rosewater scents. The bathroom had a deep tub. Ellen started the water, and I checked the temperature. It was perfect for melting my weary body and dissecting Elliott's last hours.

  I stowed my gear in a bedroom and headed back to the kitchen.

  "A quick grilled cheese sandwich and then a long soak," Ellen said as she added butter to a frying pan.

  I yawned down to my toes and sat at the table. A platter of fruit had been set out.

  "Sounds like bliss, and thanks for sending Angie Hunt too," I said as I helped myself to a piece of mango.

  "She's a dear and has had a bit of a rough go with a string of atrocious men. Honestly, shouldn't they be tagged at birth?" Ellen asked as she sliced a tomato.

  I nodded in agreement and grabbed a few strawberries.

  "Angie came to live with her dad and settled in well," she said as she flipped the sandwich, and it made a mouthwatering sizzle.

  "I met Garrett at the police station," I said with a smile.

  Ellen blushed as she plated my sandwich and added a wedge of tomato to it. She served it to me with a glass of water and a shot of amber fluid and sat down. I chugged the whiskey first.

  "Garrett portrayed Hamlet in drag and brought down the house. He always challenges the status quo," she said, gushing like a fangirl.

  "I thought he was my lawyer and quite dashing," I said after my first bite of cheesy goodness.

  "He was exquisite and wore tights with such poise and distinction," she said dreamily.

  "And did he deliver the goods as advertised?" I asked as I wiped my mouth with a napkin.

  "Maybe when you're older, I'll discuss the particulars." She smiled at the memory.

  I high-fived her as I laughed.

  * * *

  I sank down into the bathwater and tried to figure out how my life had gone from wedding jitters to possible accused murderer in a span of days.

  I'd missed the obvious signs, hints, and gestures from Elliott. This couldn't have happened overnight. Martha must have been in the picture sooner. How did he approach her without Deborah's knowledge? She had eyes and ears hidden all over Washington DC. Deborah was a spying Mrs. Potato Head. Martha had been seven when her parents had divorced. Ten when her mother died. And then she went to serve her sentence—I mean, live with her father and Deborah. I had worked for the cold Congresswoman for six years and seen Martha maybe five times, mostly dragged out for photo shoots or campaign events. A silent, sullen young woman was the perfect prey for a lecherous man's attentions. When did Elliott meet Martha? Did he know Martha's father, George Lawler? I needed to talk to Martha alone.

  When the water turned cold, I dragged my docile and pruney self out and wrapped up in a pink satin-polyester robe. I lumbered to my assigned room. Being more confused than ever, I didn't notice I had company.

  "There's my favorite fugitive from justice," Liam said as he stood and hugged me. "The police questioned me too, since my leaving the resort last night was recorded by a security camera."

  "This should teach you not to talk to slightly drunk women on the beach," I said, letting his warmth and calm fill me.

  "You were on the balcony of the honeymoon suite. Those doors should have been closed until you checked out, unless you indulged in some outside fun."

  "So you're a voyeur," I said as I stepped out of his embrace.

  "You were waving a half-empty bottle of champagne around and piqued my interest," he said with a wicked smile. "You also added you were alone. A lesser man would have taken that information as an invitation. I chose to preserve your virtue and left."

  What would I have done if he had leapt over the balcony wall and joined me? I'd be walking funny with a satisfied grin on my face.

  The only thing between us was a flimsy robe from my lingerie trousseau. My body was still damp from the bath. The robe outlined every bit of me. I crossed my arms over my chest and inadvertently hitched the bottom hem up my thigh.

  "I'll let you get dressed and be back around seven to pick you up for dinner," he said as he made his way to the door.

  "Okay. I have to stay on the island. Maybe I can help out at the bakery. I can wash dishes or sweep the floor while I wait to be served with an arrest warrant," I said as I followed him to the front door.

  "It's not open to the public, so it's a good place to hide. I bake from four in the morning to nine. The hotel sends kitchen help over to pick up the food in shifts," he said.

  "That's early," I said as I touched his arm.

  "People eat scones for breakfast, and it leaves the rest of the day for me to get into trouble. I'd love to have somebody around who worked the same shift."

  I hoped he meant me, and I took a step closer to him.

  I don't know how it happened, but suddenly my lips were on his.

  The kiss started soft, but I wanted more. On my tiptoes, I wrapped my arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around my waist. It gave me a quick jolt and a reminder that I was commando. The gleam in his eyes told me that he knew and was quite happy about it. My mind clouded as my judgment waged war with my libido. The decision wasn't mine alone to make, however, as Liam slid me back to my feet. He kissed my forehead and let go of me.

  "Believe me, before you leave this island, our hormones will find a satisfying release. For now, dinner and pending murder charges are on the agenda," he said.

  "You're right. I'm sorry," I said as I took a step back.


  "Only apologize when you've done something wrong. So far, with me, you've done everything right," he said as he left.

  Physical contact with Elliott had been only when he was interested. I had been rebuffed more times than I cared to remember. My needs languished with neglect.

  Why had I even considered marrying him when all this male goodness waited for me?

  Back in my room, I dropped my robe, slipped into the comforting sheets, and fell sound asleep.

  * * *

  I awoke with a start with a murky picture dissolving in my mind. The last scene had been Elliott's bloated and battered face with waves splashing over it. A bald, fat man stood in the shadows smoking a cigarette.

  Was he the murderer? Or a witness to the crime? Or enjoying the view, oblivious to all?

  Fear gripped me. I knew I didn't kill Elliott, but someone did. This cold-hearted person roamed the streets and needed to be found. Elliott might have been scum, but he didn't deserve to be murdered and swept into the ocean. He didn't have any family, so I felt like the next of kin, but I had no authority over his remains. I didn't love him anymore, but there was something still there. I sent Martha a good thought. She must be devastated. Hopefully, both of us would move on without too many lasting scars.

  I felt my anger grow. How dare someone kill another person. What right did they have to become Death and choose a victim? It was time to track down this miserable excuse of humanity, throw them in jail for life, and go home.

  I kicked off the blanket and checked the time. Six o'clock. I yawned as I pawed through my clothes that had been stuffed into my suitcase. It must have been dumped and analyzed. Just in case I had bloody evidence stashed inside. I found a turquoise drape top and white capris and put them on. I brushed my hair and dabbed on some makeup. The house was quiet as I stepped into the hall. I strolled through the still house to the living room.

  A manila envelope sat on the floor by the front door.

  Ellen must have dropped it when she'd brought in her mail.

  I leaned over, picked it up, and was about to set it on the dining room table when I noticed my name scrawled on it. My first thought was who knew I was here? Next, fingerprints were important. Third, this was the worst vacation ever.

  Should I call the police or open it? Was it another ominous note from my nurse friend or my bill from the hospital? Since I was forced to leave the hotel, the least the management could do was comp all my expenses. Just sayin'.

  Curiosity won, and I went into the kitchen. I returned with oven mitts, tongs, and a knife. I tucked my hands in the mitts, gripped the envelope with one, and slid in the knife to break the seal. As I positioned the tongs over the contents, I heard a car pull up.

  I glanced up at the clock. Six fifty-two. I had forgotten about Liam and dinner. A light knock greeted me as I gathered up my stash and ran back to my room. I laid the envelope on my bed, positioned the tongs inside, and pulled at the contents.

  "Simone," Liam said through the front door.

  "Coming," I said back as my trembling fingers clutched the metal handle.

  Slowly, the paper gave way, and a grainy black-and-white picture emerged. I held it up and looked at a close-up of a frightened Martha, apparently in mid-meltdown. In red marker, someone had written She knows what happened across the bottom.

  "And who else is the question," Liam said as he peered in over my shoulder.

  My scream echoed around the room.

  "When did you get in here?" I asked, placing the picture face down on the envelope.

  "The third time I knocked and didn't get an answer. Is this the only message you've received?" Liam asked as he picked up the picture with the tongs.

  If I confessed all, he might call the police or run like hell. But Liam had an authority feel to him. Military training or maybe it was an English thing. I needed an ally, preferably one who believed I was innocent.

  I rolled off the bed, dug through my purse, and found the folded up papers.

  "I didn't think about fingerprints, so you may want to put on an oven mitt," I said.

  Liam snatched the packet with the tongs and shook the contents out on my bed. He read the cryptic message, gathered the papers up, and added them to the picture pile.

  "You've been busy. Either someone thinks you're guilty or they're ready to confess. In the meantime, we need to find out what happened to your fiancé. Someone went to a lot of trouble to kill Elliott. The least we can do is present the pictures to the police and set you free," he said as he rubbed his chin.

  "Are you going to kick me out of your grandmother's house?" I asked.

  I'd end up as a beachcomber and never get the sand out of my hair.

  "Yes. She'll jump in too deep. I want to make sure you're safe, so you're coming home with me."

  Thanks for the invite. Don't mind if I do.

  "According to the media, I'm an island ho and a possible murderess."

  I was a bit of a slob as well, but the other two should cancel out hating to dust.

  "You probably join a long list in Hawaii. It's the hula music, luaus, and rum. Mainlanders go nuts here," he said.

  "How have you kept your sanity?" I asked as I mitted up and tucked all the helpful hints from persons unknown into a drawer.

  "I didn't bring any with me," he said as he took my hand and led me out to his car.

  Dinner was at a hole-in-the-wall bar that served amazing fish tacos. I avoided the alcohol and settled for a virgin frozen strawberry daiquiri. It was worth the posted three hundred calorie intake, so I had two. Liam asked me about my job and my family.

  "My father's deceased, and I have an older brother. He's married with two little boys. He and his wife are both high school teachers. My mom's a retired apartment building security guard. She does crossword puzzles, boxing, and complains I don't call her enough," I said with a shrug.

  "Is your mother a professional athlete?"

  "No, Bel Ryan boxes to keep in shape and scare the neighbors."

  "She sounds delightful. Where does she live?" he asked after he polished off a beer.

  "Chicago," I said between bites.

  "Is that where you're from originally?"

  "Yes. I met Deborah Niven through my friend Lizzie's dad. She had an opening for a public relations professional in her office and picked me."

  "Wise choice."

  "You know too much about me, and I know nothing about you," I said as I finished my dinner.

  "I bake scones and keep an eye on my grandmother for the family," he said as the busser cleared the dishes.

  "Wow, fattening and fulfilling work. I pegged you as a heartbroken military man," I said as I folded my napkin on the table.

  Liam studied me and sat up straighter.

  "Did you spy on me and find some buried story on the internet?" he asked as the furrows on his forehead compressed.

  Was I right?

  "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you."

  It was my natural charm to say the wrong thing.

  Liam signaled for the bill and paid it on the spot. He stood and made his way to the exit as I scrambled to my feet.

  I'll take a daiquiri with triple the alcohol in a to-go cup.

  He strode to his car, and I hustled to catch up to him.

  I wondered if Detective Ray, my personal Officer Friendly, had a room to rent since he got me kicked out of the hotel.

  "Thanks for dinner. I'll grab a cab and get my things out of Ellen's house tomorrow," I said mostly out of breath and turned back to the bar.

  "No taxis come out this far, and you're not sleeping on the beach," Liam said as he caught my arm. "It's not your fault you're smart and perceptive."

  "Thanks."

  No one had ever given me those attributes before.

  He opened the passenger-side door, and I got in his car. The car purred at cruising speed, and we arrived at a beach cottage not far from the Aloha Lagoon Resort. Liam parked the car and helped me out. The front porch had two chaise
loungers and a low table between them.

  "Have a seat," he said as he opened the front door.

  I sat in the dark and listened to the waves roll up to the shore. The moon shimmered on the calm water, reflected back on the porch, and I nestled in. Such beauty needed a silent witness. I inhaled and let a gentle breeze ease me.

  I had upset Liam and needed to apologize again. He did seem sad. Jilted? No woman ever born was that stupid. Afraid? Never. Wounded? Weren't we all?

  I recalled the scar I saw on his back. Injured in the line of duty? That was one hell of a nasty assignment.

  The man himself stepped back out onto the porch with a few chilled bottles and cans of beverages in his massive, glorious hands. He set down the selection on the table, sat in the opposite chair, and exhaled.

  "Your life is none of my business…" I said as he lifted a hand to silence me.

  "Three years ago, a visiting American general, his staff, and a pilot perished during a raging storm over the North Atlantic, making worldwide headlines," he said as he looked out over the beach.

  "I remember this story. The general was a decorated war hero. There was a big funeral for him in Washington DC," I said as I opened a wine cooler. "The details were vague as to what he was doing there. I don't remember any British personnel or vessels being involved."

  "He delivered military information to his London counterparts and insisted on an overview of a British aircraft carrier. We were skimming to Norway when he caught up to us."

  "Why?" I asked after taking a sip.

  One look told me it was classified and to never mention it again.

  "During his unannounced visit, I issued an order to ground all aircraft until the winds died down. The general insisted on leaving and went to the higher command to get permission to fly," Liam said as he popped the top off a beer bottle.

  A Royal Navy man. I pictured Liam in a stunning uniform, his chest brimming with medals and ribbons. He always performed his duty to the best of his ability.

  "So it's not your fault. People get warned not to take chances. What they do after is their choice," I said, knowing it didn't help Liam's conscience.