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

by Mary Jo Burke

  "Why didn't he take the phone? Do you think he'll be back?" I asked, trying to sound blasé about everything and failing.

  "He wanted either pictures or files saved to the phone. The card is easier to conceal and toss. Eventually, someone may find the phone. If the police find out, they'll turn their attentions back to you," he said as he shut off the television. "He won't be back here. He got what he wanted or what he was paid to retrieve."

  "I should have stayed home. Maybe Elliott would still be alive, and I'd still have a job," I said as my misery leaked out into my voice.

  "Then, we would have never met, and all around me would be colder," Liam said as he snuggled closer to me.

  "You'd be safe from burglars and not spending so much money on a penniless murder suspect." I let the self-pity party begin again, and I stomped on it just as fast. "Whoever is messing with us is going down. Let's go kick some extortionist's ass."

  Adrenaline was scary stuff.

  "Simone, we need a nap before we go to The Lava Pot and find out exactly what's going on here. Starting tonight, we resolve to bring all perpetrators to justice and clear your name of all suspicions," he said.

  Good idea, sleep before we attack.

  Was this a quest? Could it be used to bolster a résumé? Didn't quests turn out bad for everybody? Were things going well for me now? I wished I hadn't eaten the forkful of raw fish with my last meal.

  Liam got up and headed for the bedroom. I changed my clothes. We settled into his bed, both lost in our thoughts. I dozed and dreamed of a bald, fat man waiting for me around every corner. Liam appeared wearing a kilt. He swung a sword and jammed it through the bald man's chest.

  Was it sick to say Liam had stunning kneecaps, and killing the bad guys made me feel better?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Liam's alarm honked like a drunken goose. He flipped on the light as I stretched. He sat up and swung his legs over the bed, and his gym shorts hung low on his hips. I peeked and was rewarded with a gorgeous glimpse of a dimpled cheek. I marveled at the sight and wandered higher. His scar was a thin line like a clean slice from a sharp blade. I reached out and touched it with my fingertips. Liam flinched and stood.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," I said.

  "Don't worry about it. I'll go get ready," he said as he left the bedroom.

  He still had an open wound from the helicopter accident. Had he ever talked to a professional about his feelings? Blaming himself didn't bring anyone back from the dead. He wasn't a failure. He made delicious scones, cared for his grandmother, and had done all he could to save those people under horrific conditions. I wished I could help him as much as he had helped me. My life was a mess, but I wasn't alone. He had stood by me, believed my innocence, and taken on my plight.

  He was a really good kisser too.

  I hurried into the bathroom to get ready for our date with the blackmailer or extortionist or basic bad guy. We didn't know yet. I hoped he admitted to killing Elliott and turned himself in to Detective Ray Kahoalani. If there was reward money, I'd humbly accept it. I pulled on some leggings and a long-sleeved shirt. I was going for a nonthreatening look.

  Confess to me, and the judge will be lenient.

  I walked out into the living room ready to plunge in. Liam wore cargo shorts and a black T-shirt, and he sat lacing up his high-tops. Was he planning to chase down the suspect? He stood, and I felt the air charge around us. Liam had become more professional and precise in his movements. The military man had been awakened, and the hunt had begun.

  Step aside Sherlock, you poser. Liam Bentley would take the reins from here on out.

  What if the fiend had a gun or threatened to tell the police I had paid him hush money? I preferred watching this kind of ordeal happen to other people on television. Living through it in real time wasn't as entertaining.

  "The guy wants five hundred in cash. I'll text my friend and pay you back with interest," I said as he held up his hand.

  "Stop offering me money. It's insulting," he said as he made his way to the door.

  I followed my bodyguard or liege. I sent a mental warning to the guy waiting for us.

  Don't tick Liam off. I can't be responsible for your safety.

  * * *

  Liam opened the door to The Lava Pot, and I stepped in. I wasn't scared, just nervous as all hell. The noise level was festive as a few people burst into a boozy rendition of "Happy Birthday." Liam put his hand on the middle of my back and guided me to the bar.

  "Look who the waves washed in," the bartender said as he saluted. "My Lord Commodore, state your pleasure."

  Was Liam a real knight or sir something?

  "Take it easy with the titles, Casey. We're all the same here in America since the rebels kicked our ancestors' asses out," Liam said as he pulled out a barstool for me.

  I enjoyed the English banter and hoped for more stories about Liam's past.

  "Not bloody likely. You are to the manor born and in the company of a beautiful lady. I'm a poor bloke from Portsmouth," he said as he placed a glass on the bar.

  "And a chatty one at that. This is Simone Ryan, and that is Casey Dalton," Liam said as a way of introduction.

  "Enchanté, Miss Ryan," he said as he offered his hand.

  "Nice to meet you too," I said as I shook it.

  There was a twinkle in Casey's eye, and he looked like he caused a lot of mischief. I wondered if it was part of his bartender training. Liam feigned jealousy and slipped his arm around my waist. It felt nice and snug.

  "A finger of Scotch for me, and she'll have…" Liam said after he kissed my cheek.

  Definitely worth having two men's attention, and I was a bit parched.

  "A ginger ale," I said.

  "Are you underage? I knew I should have asked for identification," Liam said with a smile.

  "No, but alcohol makes me sleepy. We have our meeting soon, and then in a few hours, I have to watch you bake. It's a packed ten to twelve hours."

  "Agreed. Intrigue demands you have your wits about you," Liam said as he scanned the bar. "No one fitting the description of our mystery man is here."

  Casey delivered our drinks, and Liam peeled off a few bills.

  "Too generous as always," he said as Liam waved off the change.

  "We'll take the table near the back, and we're expecting some company too. A chap with a bandaged hand should be along soon. If you see him, point him in our direction," Liam said as I scooted off the barstool.

  "Will do, sir," Casey said as he filled another drink order.

  We grabbed our drinks, and Liam guided me through the crowd to the table. I sat, and Liam joined me.

  "Do we play good cop/bad cop?" I asked after I sipped my ale.

  "Neither, we let him talk. If the information is useful, I'll pay him. If not, I'll tell him to leave," Liam said as he sat back in his seat.

  "What if he's the guy who broke into your house?"

  "Then he gets no money, returns the phone's memory card, and pleads for his life," he said as he drummed his fingers on the table.

  Glad the Lord Commodore was on my side.

  I passed the time watching the tourists giggle and drink. Honeymooners sat so close that not even a sliver of moonlight could squeeze between them. They whispered and smiled at each other. A few days ago, this had been my plan. Now, I waited for information concerning my ex-fiancé's murder in hopes to clear the cloud following me.

  The sadness crept back and caught me. Liam put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. Instant comfort and understanding with one touch. I thought I knew what they were with Elliott, but I had been so wrong.

  We both moved forward at the same time. The kiss conveyed acceptance, consolation, and pure lust. We broke the suction, and I entered a dreamy state of mind. The world was beautiful and friendly.

  "The guy at the bar said you were Simone Ryan," said a young, lanky man sporting a bandaged hand.

  "Who are you?" Liam asked in a deep, dark voice. />
  Liam startled me, and I let out a weak yelp. Thanks for the reminder that the real world was cold and terrifying. I decided to leave the interrogation to the professional.

  "Not important for our discussion," he said.

  "I beg to differ. I find it imperative," Liam said with an authoritative edge.

  "Never mind," the man said as he turned to leave.

  "You'll find a squad car waiting for you outside. Either identify yourself to me and relate your tale or do so under oath at the police station," Liam said.

  I didn't know if Liam was bluffing about the police, but it scared me. Liam signaled to Casey to place a call. Casey pointed at the man and picked up the phone receiver.

  "Alright," the man said, lifting his arms in surrender.

  He swaggered back and put his good hand in his pocket. Liam shot out of the booth and had the man on his knees, both arms pinned behind him.

  "Sudden movements make me nervous. Ask permission before you tuck a hand in your pocket," Liam said in a steady, menacing voice.

  "Okay, I'm sorry. I was getting out my driver’s license," the man rasped out.

  "Problem?" Casey asked as he appeared with a man in a security uniform.

  "This fella slipped, and I'm helping him up," Liam said as he pulled the man to his feet.

  "Best be careful," Casey said to the man, and then he and the security guard strolled back to the bar.

  Liam released him, and the man stood and straightened his shirt.

  "Have a seat," Liam said as he flipped open the wallet and examined the driver's license. "Phillip X. Clark from Manassas, Virginia."

  "What are you Scotland Yard or something?" he asked as Liam handed him back his wallet.

  "Hardly. Phillip, what are you drinking?" Liam asked as he sat down.

  "Beer," he said as he sat across from us. "What's your name?"

  "Not important enough to mention," Liam said as he hailed Casey and pointed to the taps. "Why are you so far from home?"

  A waitress brought over a beer and refills of our drinks. Liam tossed a fifty on her tray, and she smiled as she left.

  "Are you interested in my story or not?" Phillip asked as he shifted in his seat.

  This tense interrogation made my police experience pleasant by comparison.

  "Pray continue," Liam said as he steepled his hands on his chest.

  "I also expect to get paid," Phillip said as he lifted his glass.

  "What's your official job description?" Liam asked.

  Thug or punk or mercenary?

  "Freelancer," Phillip said as he smiled at me.

  "Start talking. If you say something useful, you'll get your money," Liam said.

  "I was hired to retrieve Martha Lawler by a big bald guy who has a Southern accent. He may be a private investigator," Phillip said rather smugly.

  He considered himself a sophisticated little skunk. I hope Martha was the source of his injury.

  "That describes every other man here," I said, especially our memory card thief.

  "True. Could you pick your employer out of a crowd?" Liam asked.

  "I didn't see his face. We met in a bar, and he handed me a folder with Martha's picture, a plane ticket, and some money in it," Phillip said after he drained the beer. "I flew here with her and Elliott Smythe-Wilkes. At the Lihue airport, Martha headed for the ladies' room, and I made a grab for her. She bit my hand, and they got away."

  "How were you going to get her to leave with you? Did you have a car or spare plane? Kidnapping is a felony," Liam said.

  "I was supposed to get her outside the airport, and that was it."

  "Was someone else waiting for her?" Liam asked.

  "I guess."

  I wasn't a criminal in training, but even I saw a major hole his plan, namely Martha screaming at the top of her lungs.

  I bet Elliott had been no help. Last month, I'd walked down a crowded hallway balancing a few binders in my arms. Elliott had caught up to me and hadn't offered to carry any. Plus, my arm had gotten bumped, and I'd dropped them. Another woman had helped me stack them back up on the floor while Elliott stood there. His excuse: he'd just had his suit cleaned. It reminded me of Bette Davis's famous line.

  I'd like to kiss ya, but I just washed my hair.

  What was I thinking when I'd said yes to Elliott? Afraid at twenty-eight my biological clock ticked faster? I hated it when I got needy and stupid at the same time.

  "You were hired in Virginia? How did he know to contact you?" Liam asked his prey.

  "Yeah, I know some people, and they passed along my name," Phillip said as he held up his empty glass to Casey.

  I believe Casey flipped him off, but it was dark, so don't quote me.

  "You've reached the one free drink maximum allowed," Liam said as he nodded to Casey.

  Phillip rolled his eyes and slouched in his seat.

  I wouldn't hire him to pick up dog poop, let alone a person. Who had recommended this loser and paid for his ineptitude?

  "After you delivered Martha into the arms of an unknown person, then what?" Liam asked as he ran his finger around the rim of his glass.

  "I go to the hotel with lagoon in the name to collect my fee," Phillip said as he rested his arm on the bench and looked me up and down.

  Tread lightly, my lad. There was only one alpha in the world right now, and his glare bore a hole right between Phillip's eyes.

  "The Aloha Lagoon Resort. And if you didn't find the person, were you supposed to deliver Martha there?" Liam asked as he slowly rubbed his hands together.

  Liam's steady voice and deliberate movement unnerved me. He worked the whole calm before the storm vibe. I doubted Liam needed a weapon. He couldn't get any more lethal.

  "I can be persuasive, and women like me," Phillip said as he licked his lips.

  Was the attraction based on his weasel-like looks or the garbage bucket chatter he called charm?

  "So here you are empty handed. Have you contacted your employer about your failure to capture the elusive Martha?" Liam asked as he pulled out his money clip.

  "No," Phillip said as he squirmed in his seat.

  "If he's seen the news, he knows already. Tough luck. Kidnapping is a nasty business," Liam said as he crumpled and dropped a one-hundred-dollar bill on the table. "Have an uneventful flight home."

  Phillip had been dissed and dismissed.

  "I could tell the cops she did it," Phillip said as he pointed at me.

  I didn't like him.

  "Please do," Liam said with a shrug.

  What? I wasn't liking Liam much either at this moment.

  "And while you're at the police station, don't forget to explain your own part in the death of Elliott Smythe-Wilkes. You and your lover, Martha Lawler, dragged his inebriated body down to the beach and tossed him into the ocean. Who paid you to do it? Or was it just for kicks?" Liam asked as he leaned closer to Phillip.

  Cool as can be, Liam had accused Phillip of murder, an illicit affair, and profiteering.

  Phillip raised his good hand into a fist. Liam caught it in midair and pulled Phillip up and over the table.

  "I'm not a violent man unless the situation warrants it. For example, if I feel threatened, I retaliate in kind. Luckily, now all I feel is pity," Liam said as he pushed back, and Phillip landed hard in his seat. "Leave, little man, while I'm feeling charitable."

  Phillip stood, grabbed the money, and slithered out.

  "I need a shower after talking to him," I said as I rubbed my arms.

  "I'll make it the first order of business when we return to my house," he said.

  Liam summoned Casey to the table and slipped him Phillip's license.

  "Let's have security run a quick check and see if there's any reason Mr. Clark should be detained at the airport," Liam said.

  "He did cause a disturbance here," Casey said as he examined it and left.

  "Do you work for the police?" I asked.

  "No, just keeping my corner of the world tidy
. Shall we leave?" Liam asked as he stood.

  He offered me his hand as I stood. He didn't let go of me until we got to his front door.

  "I'm sure you have many thoughts and questions, but I have to get some sleep," he said as he flipped on the living room lights. "We'll talk at the bakery."

  "Okay, but my head is swirling. I think the guy who broke into your house hired Phillip," I said.

  "Me too, but Phillip doesn't ask questions—he gets paid. Something tells me he got stiffed and is trying to squeeze anyone for more money. Your name appeared in the paper, and he hit on a willing hospital employee to deliver his message."

  "Will people do anything for money?" I asked as he slipped his shirt off.

  Maybe strip and bump and grind for a private lap dance. Unfortunately, I didn't have any spare singles on me.

  "Phillip thought he had a way with women. Should I have asked for pointers?" he asked as he smiled.

  "Only if you need a repellant. How many jobs does Phillip get a year?" I asked as I followed him to the bedroom.

  "One is too many, but people pay for his type of service," he said as he stepped into the bathroom.

  I hurried to change into my makeshift pajamas and snuggled into bed. Liam's gorgeous silhouette filled the doorway a moment before he joined me. Encased in his embrace, mine was my last thought before I fell asleep. My dreams disagreed with my rosy outlook and showed me the bald, overweight man waiting for us.

  I added dumb to his description for hiring Phillip.

  * * *

  The alarm sounded, and we woke before the sun. My newly acquired scone addiction insisted I get up. The rest of me tried to convince it that a day-old scone was better than one hot from the oven. My feet hit the floor. Sleep was well and good, but scones were science, and I enjoyed dissecting them one bite at a time.

  I groggily showered, got dressed, and chanted to myself, "I do believe in scones," as I made my way to the living room. Liam leaned against the couch, checked his phone, and smiled.

  "Prepare to be shocked. Phillip X. Clark has four outstanding arrest warrants from three different states. His crimes range from failure to pay child support, thirty-five unpaid parking tickets, and a DUI to my favorite, one for public urination. The big bald man can sure pick a winner."