"You're not a murderer, just a temptress," he said as he took a step closer.
I shuddered as he kissed my hand and then my cheek. There was an audible sigh besides my own as he wrapped his arms around my waist. I felt the restless crowd of women surge forward. I had won the prize. The stern hostess looked around for the power source and frowned at me. For the hired help, there was no dabbling in the shadows.
"I better get to work," I said as I reluctantly released him.
"You're mine later," he said as his thumb grazed across my mouth.
There was no sane response to that blatant remark other than, "Oh yeah." I smiled as he swaggered away. I needed a cold shower and a stiff one—as in a few gallons of mai tais.
People's imaginations were what had gotten me into this mess. Dumped women ate tubs of ice cream and cried to their friends after a breakup. Dragging Elliot's cheating carcass down to the beach to drown him sounded like overkill. I mean, over the top. Then again, it did send an effective message to any other men planning to pick up someone else on the side. The time zone stoked the savage beast in us all.
I hurried to the hostess stand, and Ellen introduced me to the staff.
"Hello," I said to the stoic group.
"Hi, I'm Keanu Church," said one of the male servers. He had dark, wavy hair, crystal clear blue eyes the color of the ocean, and a toned physique that had me wondering if all men at the resort were this handsome. "I’m the Loco Moco assistant manager. Nice to have the help today."
He extended his hand to me, and I shook it.
"Thank you. I'm happy to help in any way I can."
He sent me a dazzling smile and joined the rest of the wait staff. I decided not to stare back at the crowd. I wandered around the restaurant, pretending to straighten silverware on a few tables. Pots of preserves, lemon curd, and I presumed clotted cream were set out. I had yet to try the cream because the word clotted made me think of blood. Sorry if I ruined it for anyone else.
I passed a sign stating that the Loco Moco Café was closed on Mondays except for the last one of the month. It was open from three to six for Ellen Bentley's tea, and all the proceeds went to fund Bridey's House. A website was listed for further information.
"Bridey's House feeds the homeless and helps them get off the streets," the stern hostess said as she confronted me. "Ellen is a wonderful crusader for the less fortunate. She's very well thought of around here. Don't take advantage of her generosity. Now hurry up. Everyone is waiting for you."
She huffed, and I followed her back up to the entrance.
Ellen chatted with the customers and then signaled to the staff. The hostess plastered a smile on her face. I didn't catch her first name but was sure her middle and last ones were the Terrible.
Ellen unhooked the velvet rope, and the women strolled in. They approached the desk, and then I was given a number. I walked groups to their tables. I felt I was being scanned by everyone. After all, I had been front page news. Did people who contributed to civilization get as much coverage as the ones who destroyed it? I'd say not.
The guests seemed upset by the presence of a suspected murderer in their midst. After everyone was seated, Ellen clapped to get everyone's attention. Quiet descended over the one hundred and forty assembled.
"Thank you all for being here today. We hope you enjoy the afternoon, and we appreciate your generous contributions to Bridey's House. For those of you who aren't familiar with the charity, it feeds the hungry and shelters the homeless. The least we're called upon to do for each other," Ellen said to a smattering of applause.
She made her way through the tables and took my hand.
"Have you ever thought about a political career?" I asked her. "You're a natural-born public speaker."
"Thanks for reminding me—I meant to say more," Ellen said as she raised our joined hands in the air. "Ladies, in regard to my dear friend here and the vicious rumors swirling around her, I have one question. Who among us hasn't met a man we wanted to throttle?"
A slight murmur rose from the women and then a collective shrug. The room's chill subsided. Should I be relieved or worried? Some women actually spoke to me as the tea, sandwiches, and scones were served. A platter of mini red velvet cupcakes called to me by the waitress's stand. I sampled one or more in my self-appointed position as quality control officer and declared them delicious.
There was a crash from the kitchen. The hot looking guy, Keanu, stood in the doorway. Red-faced and pants drenched with tea, he made his way to the exit.
"Is he alright? His legs could be burned," I said to Ellen as she stood by me.
"He's fine. Every time I come in, the poor guy always seems to end up with something dumped on him. He underestimated the weight of the ice bucket and overestimated the stability of the pitcher of tea. Isn’t he delicious to look at, though? Keanu’s studying to be an accountant. What a waste, hiding behind a desk eight hours a day. He should be out on the water so that we can appropriately gawk at that hot body of his."
Someone called to Ellen, and she was back to charming the masses.
I should check the internet to see if anyone was hiring a disgraced public relations specialist.
A slim, young woman approached me and touched my arm.
"Hi, can I help you?" I asked.
"I think it's the other way around. Did you read my message from the hospital?" she asked in a hushed tone.
She was the nurse who'd pushed the cryptic papers into my hand in front of the police. My heart rate kicked up a notch.
"Yes. I'd appreciate more information too. Can we meet somewhere?"
"A guy with a bandaged hand will be at The Lava Pot tiki bar at midnight. And bring five hundred in cash with you," she said as she left.
In small unmarked bills or in pennies? I thought island intrigue meant romance. The Hawaiian tourism brochures failed to mention murder and bribing people for information. Didn't anyone else talk to the police except the falsely accused?
The tea party wrapped up, and I hurried to Liam's house with my new lead. I opened the door and heard my recorded voice.
"Elliott, I'm at the courthouse. I know I'm early. Guess I'm anxious to marry my love."
I stood still and swallowed back my tears and hurt. Liam saw me and switched off the phone with a gloved finger.
"Did he respond to you at all?" Liam asked with a tinge of disgust.
I shook my head no and wiped off my cheeks with my hands.
"I should change out of my fancy dress so that Ellen can return it," I said as I ran away from his disapproving glare.
I closed the bedroom door, upended the dress, tossed it on the bed, and then sank to the floor. I did the whole ugly cry thing, eyes and nose dripping. A soft knock got me up and changed back into my clothes. I swept open the door, and Liam enfolded me in his arms.
"I've met stupid men in my life, but Elliott has them all beat. He had you and let you go. Amazing, and he's earned my eternal gratitude," he said, stroking my back.
"Lucky you," I said after a sniffle.
"Indeed," he said.
"Did you find anything other than me groveling?"
"That's not begging," Liam said as he stepped back and held my chin, making me face him. "You were a woman in love and excited to marry. If Elliott had a whiff of sense, or class, he would have called off the wedding in person."
"He had me fooled."
"I don't think you were the first to be conned."
"That's not reassuring," I said as I reluctantly let go of him in search of tissues or a drop cloth for my nose.
"It's not supposed to be. Just proves you're human. Learning from it and moving on makes you a wonderful, beautiful, intelligent woman."
"I like my transformation from mere mortal to superior specimen. What else did you dig up?" I asked after I blew my nose, which sounded like a foghorn imitation.
"Most of the phone calls are from you, the emails are work related or spam, and the texts will take more digging. Did
Elliott go by any nicknames?"
I had started a list of appropriate Elliott hashtags on the flight to Hawaii. Loser, jerk, idiot, pompous, a…
"Not that I am aware of, but the things I didn't know about him will continue to grow."
"Nicky appeared a few times in texts," Liam said as we walked back to the kitchen.
"Male or female?"
"I don't know. How was the tea?"
"Based on my untested standards and seeing that I've never attended one before, excellent. I'm short on etiquette because I wolfed down two scones when no one was watching. Ellen spiked her tea with a dram of rum. She offered to do the same for me. I declined and drank a cup neat, not stirred. I also got an invitation to do some cloak-and-dagger stuff tonight," I said as I stared at Elliott's phone and the written log next to it.
"Do not go anywhere alone with Gran."
"She does give off a super villain vibe," I said as he smiled. "Remember, I've evolved into a brilliant being. I ask handsome, smart men to accompany me into the night."
"That sounds like a vampire's pickup line," he said as he sat down and leaned back in the chair.
The slight pulse of his neck looked inviting. I zoned out and handed my brain waves to my awakened libido. If I traveled south from his neck, I would find his…
"Simone, are you alright?" Liam asked as I grabbed his hand.
Where was I again? I had a pertinent thought tucked away somewhere. I rummaged through the last few hours of memories. I didn't eat enough scones today. I cried because I had believed love would choose me for a happily ever after. Someone offered me information about my murder. Not my death per se but the killing bestowed upon me by the public domain. That was the winner.
I related to Liam the message from the nurse and my lack of funds to pay my informant.
"I know Casey Dalton, the bartender at The Lava Pot. He usually works the late shift on Mondays," Liam said.
"I'll be there at eleven-thirty," I said.
"I'm going with you. Why would you think I'd let you go alone?" he asked as he stood inches from me.
Heat and bravado. Those were two more attributes Elliott lacked. I shouldn't talk ill of the dead. He'd probably haunt me and develop a shriller laugh. I made fun of him again.
"It's my affair, and I don't want you to get into trouble."
He lived here and had a stellar reputation. I didn't know how this debacle would play out and would hate myself if Liam got hurt.
"Such a naïve girl. I didn't know they made women like you anymore," Liam said as he smiled.
Was he about to pat me on the head? If he acted dismissive, we're done. I didn't share many traits with my mother, but our tempers made us attack.
"Let's be clear. I'm not a damsel waiting for a prince or a knight or an ogre. If you want to go as added muscle, that's fine, but I have to clear my name. I plan to leave this dot in the Pacific without any jail time. Someone killed Elliott and is trying to frame me. I don't appreciate the added bonus and intend to pay it back," I said with a renewed straightened spine.
I hoped it lasted longer than ten seconds. I had a tendency to cave in to try to please people. I needed to channel my no-nonsense mom more, but I'd inherited my father's passive genes.
"I agree this duel is all yours. I stand as your second and offer aid per your request," he said with a bow.
I shouldn't bark at him. He and Ellen were my only help.
"I'm sorry."
"Never apologize when you're right. Now, we need to eat dinner and sleep before the rendezvous."
True. Hot, fresh scones waited for no one.
I sifted through my calls on Elliott's phone. Was this pathetic voice me? A few days ago, Elliott was my world. Now, he had faded. Thinking of him made me sad and angry. I wanted to delete them all, but they backed up my story. Liam suggested we grab some plate lunches and discuss strategy.
As the sun hung low in the sky, we strolled over to a parking lot filled with food trucks. Each one did a volume business. We joined tourists and locals in line as I read the posted menus. A plate lunch consisted of scoops of rice and macaroni salad. Chicken katsu was deep-fried chicken thighs. I was from the Midwest and loved deep-fried anything.
"What looks good?" Liam asked me.
"Everything, but fried chicken feeds my soul and clogs my arteries. I'm sure something else is a healthier choice, but I need greasy food."
We got to the order window.
"Hey, Liam, the usual?" the man asked.
"Yeah, and the lady will have chicken katsu," Liam said as he pulled out his wallet to pay.
Liam took his change, and we stood to the side.
"What's the usual?" I asked.
"Poke. It's raw tuna, seaweed, and onions," he said as I frowned.
Sticking my finger in my open mouth to show him it sounded gag worthy would be childish.
"Now you have to try it. Technically, you're on vacation and need to keep an open mind," he said as he settled his arm around my shoulder.
"It's raw fish, right?" I asked as I leaned in, and he nodded. "I'm sure I won't like it. Sushi pushes my limits."
Our number was called, and we collected our food. There was open space at a picnic table. We sat down and began to eat and people watch.
"This place is rocking. Is it always the same food trucks?" I asked as I cut up my chicken.
"Yes, but they change the menus every other month. I'm sure you've noticed Hawaii is an expensive place to live and eat," he said.
He was being polite. I'd been living off of his and Ellen's kindness since I had been questioned by the police.
"I haven't picked up a bill since I met you," I said after I ate some delicious macaroni salad.
"I'm bribing you to keep you close and hoping you like me."
"You're doing an excellent job," I said, spying the pink fish on his plate.
"One bite and I'll get you a shave ice," he said as he scooped up some tuna on his fork. I sealed my lips and sucked them into my mouth. "Ice with guava or pineapple or coconut or passionfruit juice is an island delicacy."
I craved one or two. The only barrier between me and frozen goodness was a bite of raw fish. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I opened my mouth and closed my eyes. The fork touched my tongue with a mix of seasoning and textures. I debated just choking it down, but my teeth started to chew. The tastes mixed and didn't trigger my yucky reflex.
"Not bad," I said after I swallowed.
"Good to know I can cajole you with sweets," he said.
He didn't need any props to get my attention. Since we'd met, he'd been in all my thoughts and dreams. We polished off our meals and then strolled over to a shave ice shop. I let Liam choose the flavors. Ours were a rainbow of natural sugars.
"If I lived here, I'd weigh a ton," I said after the last, delicious spoonful.
"Don't underestimate the beauty of curves. I've never met a man who preferred bones to meat."
I laughed as I finished, and movement to my left caught my eye. An older, overweight man stood in the shadows, smoking a cigarette. A passing car's headlights reflected off his bald head, but his face remained hidden.
Just like my dream where a man watched over Elliot's dead body on the beach.
The killer or a witness? Was I being followed?
By the time I had turned to get Liam's attention, the man was gone.
I told him about the man and my dream as we headed back to Liam's house. This sighting of the possible killer made the conversation at the bar tonight more important. I didn't like the attention, the accusation, and the fear. I dug down deep to find my resolve. My mom would know what to do. Nothing rattled Bel Ryan, except when my dad had died from a heart attack five years ago. The first and last time I ever saw her cry. Always in command of her emotions and totally badass, she had crumpled to the floor when the paramedics hadn't been able to revive him.
My mom was a beautiful woman and attracted male attention, but she never dated or returned a man's pho
ne calls. When I asked her why, she said they were all a step down from my dad.
"Never settle, Simone," was her advice to me.
Not just about men—she included school grades, deli orders, even haircuts. I almost gave in with Elliott. I hadn't been honest with my mom about him, but now I had a chance to redeem myself.
I would find Elliott's killer—not for him but for me. I didn't deserve the way he had treated me or the way I'd been treated since his death.
"You've taken five deep breaths. Have you made a decision?" Liam asked as he opened his front door.
"I'm going to get to the bottom of this and make my mother proud."
"That's the spirit," Liam said as he tossed his keys on the counter and examined Elliott's phone.
He swore under his breath, slipped on a pair of plastic gloves, and snapped off the back panel.
"Is something wrong?" I asked as I put my purse on the table.
"The memory card is missing," he said in a low voice.
Was this how a lion sounded when he returned to the den and discovered a hyena trying to pull away his dinner?
"Was it there before we left?" I asked the obvious question.
"Yes. Someone set foot in my home without my permission," Liam said as he flexed his right hand into a fist.
His level tone hid the pure rage boiling under the surface. I was glad I wasn't causing it. Things had gotten personal for Liam as he shifted from protector to victim to avenger. If his eyes got any narrower, he'd never have to blink again.
He hiked over to the bookcase and selected an especially thick tome. I used tome in a sentence when I meant big old, fat book. He opened the cover and pulled a security camera out of it. He dropped the book, and I noticed it had been hollowed out. Liam sat as he popped out a thumb drive, turned on the television, and plugged the drive into the television. He used the remote to hit play. A bald, overweight man wearing a cap pulled low over his face opened the door.
"I didn't notice the lock had been picked. This is a professional thief," Liam said with a hint of respect.
"That's the guy I saw by the food trucks," I said as I sat next to him on the couch.
"He made sure we were gone before he came here. I wonder if he followed Elliott to the Aloha Lagoon," Liam mused as we watched the man deftly remove the memory card from the phone and leave.
Deadly Bubbles in the Wine (Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Book 4) Page 7
