Dying for a Daiquiri

by CindySample

  “Come down now. Before anyone is hurt.”

  Victor shook his head.

  “We have sharpshooters posted across the grounds. Release your hostage now.”

  Sharpshooters? I didn’t like the sound of that. Neither did Victor as he shoved me in front of him. Despite his heavy panting, the distance between the gun and my head had not widened.

  Victor stared at the crowd far below then yelled at Henry who stood off to the side. Henry pointed a finger at himself and mouthed something. He walked over to Detective Lee and grabbed the megaphone.

  “Victor, come down, please,” Henry said. “Don’t do this to your family.”

  With his left hand, Victor motioned for Henry to climb the tower. Detective Lee, Henry, and my own personal detective consulted. Then Henry started the long climb up.

  “Are you letting me go?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  This was a heck of a time for Victor to go all inscrutable. Henry reached the top of the platform and threw his arms out as if to hug Victor. His father-in-law responded in a less familial manner by leveling the gun at him.

  “Victor, what’s going on? That detective said you killed Joey and Keiki? That’s crazy.”

  “I could never kill my daughter,” Victor said, “and that’s how I always thought of Keiki. As my daughter. Joey’s fall was an accident, but the detective is right. It was my fault. I came up here to discuss a personal matter with him. When Joey wouldn’t listen, I grew frustrated and shoved him.”

  His eyes clouded over. “I’ll never forget the sound of his scream. I raced down the stairs. When I reached the bottom of the tower, I could tell he was dead. It was too late to help him. So I left. Left Joey there to be discovered the next morning.”

  “It’s not too late to confess to the police,” I said. “They’ll understand it was an accident. As for Keiki…”

  “I didn’t kill Keiki,” Victor screamed. His eyes bulged, and for a minute, I thought they would pop out of their sockets. Lee shouted via the megaphone once again.

  “Enough of this,” Victor said. “Henry, strap her into that harness and attach her to the line at the far right. Once she’s clamped in, you can climb back down. Then it will be my turn. For now, I need her as my hostage.”

  “But…” I started before Victor shushed me.

  “Do all hostages talk this much?” he muttered, watching as Henry attempted to get me into the zip-line harness, not the easiest task when dealing with a full-figured woman.

  Henry finally succeeded in buckling me in. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pair of tan gloves and handed them to me.

  I stared at them in confusion.

  “Put them on,” he said. “You’ll need them.”

  “Stop talking to her,” commanded Victor. “You can go back down.”

  “Please,” Henry pleaded. “Let us help you.”

  Victor shook his head. “It’s too late for me now. Just tell…,” he hesitated and blinked his eyes rapidly. “Tell my daughter and Kiana I love them.”

  Henry sighed and disappeared down the stairs. With his exit, any hope that Victor might release me, disappeared.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  Trapped in my harness, I was a tiny––okay not that tiny––pawn in this entire drama.

  I swiveled my head left. “Victor, please don’t do anything you might regret.” Which by my definition would include anything involving his gun and me.

  He glared. “No wonder you’re still single. Do you ever stop talking?”

  Geez. Someone woke up on the wrong side of his bed. But where would Victor wake up tomorrow? Did he have an exit strategy? And if so, how did I fit into his plan?

  He began strapping himself into the harness on the zip-line running parallel to mine. The two lines were about six feet apart. With my torso hooked to the line, I couldn’t get out of the contraption without help, so I wasn’t a menace to Victor. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t shoot me if I provoked him. Apparently, his concept of provocation included my chatter.

  Footsteps pounded up the stairs. The troops must have thought Victor was harmless now.

  Crack! The sharp retort of Victor’s gun told them otherwise. I twisted to the right and peered down the steps. Uniformed officers crouched at the first and second landings. A brown-haired man, dressed in jeans and a white polo shirt lay on the stairs.

  Victor shot Tom?

  I screamed. Victor raced over to my side and shoved me. With my legs dangling in the air, I gasped as I began zipping above the valley WAY below. I shrieked loud enough for them to hear me in Sacramento.

  My family and Tom’s faces flashed before my eyes as I soared through the air. My contacts watered as the treetops whizzed past in one giant green fuzzy blur. I vaguely remembered reading that the rider can control the speed of descent, but Henry hadn’t shown me how.

  I zoomed above the canyon, afraid if I looked down I’d pass out. Eventually I would smack into the next tower’s platform, but no guide would be there to assist me. At the rate I sped toward the tower, it would be mere seconds before I crashed.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  I finally recalled seeing something attached to the cable above my head. I pulled it with all my might. My head whiplashed back and forth but I immediately slowed. I was grateful Henry had lent me his gloves. Otherwise, my palms would have been rawer than steak tartare. I sailed into the platform at a mere five miles an hour, landing with a thud on the platform.

  I bent over, gasping for air. My knees wobbled as I turned and looked back across the canyon. After my speedy ride, my ears felt so clogged, I couldn’t be certain if more shots had been fired. Was Tom the man I’d seen lying on the stairs?

  I was stuck in zip-line hell unable to go to my boyfriend’s rescue.

  Or even my own since I had no idea how to unclamp myself from the zip-line. Where oh where was Victor?

  The answer appeared a thousand feet away from me. Someone dressed in a brown shirt barreled toward the platform. What were the odds Victor was coming to rescue me? I didn’t need my mathematician daughter to tell me they were pretty low. If I wanted to leave this tower alive, it was up to me. Victor’s hands clasped his harness, but he could have tucked his small gun anywhere.

  I swiveled my head right and left searching for something on the platform I could utilize to give Victor a proper greeting.

  Thank goodness, Henry’s crew hadn’t finished their clean-up. I saw a loose fragment of wood a couple of feet long leaning against the side of the platform. I frantically tried to release the clasps that were binding me. It was even harder getting the contraption off than it had been getting it on. I worried I would be too late.

  I looked up. Victor was slowing down, seconds away from greeting me. My fingers felt like I was wearing thimbles on all ten digits.

  Finally. I was free. I bent over and with board in hand, prepared to meet a murderer.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  Bam!

  Victor’s head drooped forward, and a trail of blood trickled down his right cheek.

  I must be either stronger or angrier than I’d realized. I only wanted to stop Victor, not kill him

  I struggled with his harness so I could perform first aid on the man. He surprised me by suddenly reaching into his pocket.

  “Stay back,” Victor ordered, the gun wavering in his shaky hand.

  Okay. Enough of this nonsense. I kicked my remaining shoe as high as a Rockette. The gun tumbled out of his hands, bouncing into the canyon. As Victor watched its descent, I whacked his skull once more with the hunk of wood.

  He slumped over, unmoving. Voices calling from the other side thrilled me to no end.

  Minutes later, Henry landed on my platform. Shortly after his arrival, one uniformed officer arrived. Detective Lee zipped over last. His eyebrows lifted as he saw Victor strapped in the harness, head lolling to one side.

  “Is he dead?” Lee asked, in the same tone of voice he might have used if I
had squashed a bug.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Lee grunted and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “too bad.” I grabbed the detective’s forearm and shook him hard. “Is Tom okay?”

  “The bullet went through his thigh. An ambulance is on the way to take him to the hospital.”

  “Will he be okay?” I asked again, needing confirmation.

  The roar of the helicopter drowned out his reply but he nodded.

  “Are they filming this?” I asked, reflexively wishing I’d stuck a comb in my short’s pocket.

  He shrugged. “It’s difficult to stop a news crew from doing its job, but they’ve agreed to help us out. We’ve asked them to load up Mr. Yakamura here and take him in for processing at the police station. We’ll get his full confession then.”

  “What about me?” I looked in all four directions but couldn’t detect any means of transportation that didn’t involve my body hanging from a cable.

  Detective Lee’s smile widened. “You get to ride the entire zip-line course for free. Heck of a deal.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  The next hour was a blur. A treetop zip-lining blur, since the only way to get back to the center was to ride all eight runs. With Henry by my side providing me with zip tips, I felt like a pro by the time I reached our final stop. A jeep identified with the KL logo waited for Henry and me at the last platform and transported us to the visitor’s center. Lee and the other officer accompanied Victor in the helicopter.

  Tom was my primary concern and his health was all I could concentrate on as I flew over all five hundred acres of Koffee Land. My goal was to get to the hospital fast. But, first, I had to hug every member of my family. Stan got two hugs because he’d recovered my missing shoe.

  Ritz was beside himself with the discovery of Victor’s theft and subsequent murders. Regan decided she should stay at Koffee Land and try to do some damage control. I visualized the director, producer and Stacey Leung-Crawford huddled together, trying to assess whether a murder and kidnapping would help market the show. What was it PR people always said? There’s no such thing as bad publicity. Ritz would soon discover if that statement was true.

  My personal mission was to check on my wounded detective. We all jumped in the rental car and Stan drove, following the police to the hospital where the ambulance had taken Tom. When we arrived, the nurse informed us he was still in surgery. She escorted us to the waiting room where I paced back and forth, my legs still rubbery from flying through the air.

  “Laurel, you’re going to wear out the carpet,” said Mother.

  “I feel so horrible. Here Tom came over for a few days of R&R and he ends up getting shot because of me.”

  “Well, you wondered how he felt about you,” Stan said, “Guess you have your answer.”

  I mulled this over. “Tom would have done the same for any hostage.”

  Stan shrugged. “Probably. But how often can you say a fella took a bullet for you.”

  Hopefully never again.

  In mid-afternoon, they moved Tom from the recovery room to his own room. After the staff got him settled, the nurse announced a family member could visit him. The three of us exchanged looks. None of us qualified for that role.

  “I’m his fiancée,” I finally said. The nurse’s dark eyes zeroed in on my bare and ring-less left hand.

  “Tom just proposed last night and the ring didn’t fit,” I replied. Stan grinned and gave me a thumbs-up behind the nurse’s back.

  She threw me a suspicious look and I smiled sweetly. “I just want to say hi. I promise I won’t tire him out.”

  “The man took a bullet for her.” Stan dramatically placed his hands on his heart demonstrating he should stick to loan underwriting, not acting.

  “Exactly,” she said, “which is why you get five minutes and that’s it. And just you, the fiancée or whatever.”

  I took an elevator up two floors then went in search of room 417. I thought the occupant of the first bed was a cadaver until I realized the body wasn’t cold yet. The man just looked old enough to be Methuselah’s grandfather.

  I pushed a blue curtain aside and found Tom asleep, his face pale and his right arm connected to an assortment of tubes. I sat in the orange plastic visitor chair next to his bed and carefully lifted his left hand. The poor guy didn’t need to be disturbed. I just wanted to hold onto him and thank him, even if he was sedated and unable to hear me.

  Tom’s hand was large, strong and remarkably mobile for a guy recovering from anesthesia. His thumb rubbed mine in a circular fashion in an area on my hand that was evidently a long-lost erogenous zone. I scooted my chair back, and his eyes flashed open.

  “You’re awake?” I asked, ever the brilliant detective.

  He sighed. “Thank God, you’re alive. Before they loaded me in the ambulance, someone said Victor had been captured. But no one knew where you were.”

  “I was playing Tarzan and Jane zip-lining through the jungle. Unfortunately my Tarzan was on his way to the hospital instead of by my side.”

  His tired eyes apologized. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  “Are you kidding? You got shot trying to stop Victor. How can I ever thank you?”

  Tom tried to prop himself up on the pillow but his IV lines tangled. I leaned over to unscramble them. Tom was in a weakened state and needed those fluids.

  But evidently he wasn’t so weak that he couldn’t grab me with his good arm and draw me close. “Having you in my arms, or at least one of them, is thanks enough.”

  His lips met mine. The heat of his lips coursed through my body. I felt faint and put my hand out to steady myself. Then I realized I was about to press down on his thigh, exactly where he’d been shot. I shifted my left hand and it landed in a more central location. His quick response was more than I’d anticipated.

  Wow. It was good to know it takes more than a bullet to deactivate my detective!

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  The Nazi nurse arrived to discover us mid-embrace. I was ushered out of the hospital with a stern warning not to return until the next day if I wanted my “fiancé” to heal properly. After a day of zip-line bonding with nature, I would have loved to drop into one of the hospital’s empty beds for an hour or two, or twelve. Stan drove Mother and me back to the hotel where dinner and a soft duvet awaited. We were out for the count before ten o’clock.

  Mother and I might have slept until noon if Regan hadn’t called my cell at nine.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  I shifted under the covers. Ugh. “I’ll survive.”

  “Excellent. We have a surprise for you at Koffee Land.”

  “Gee, thanks, but I think I’ve encountered enough surprises at Koffee Land to last me for this vacation.” Or a lifetime.

  “Please, Laurel,” she pleaded with me. “Ritz is so grateful you discovered Victor’s coffee-stealing scheme and solved the murders that he wants to honor you at a banquet tonight.”

  My senses were starting to awaken even without my morning coffee. “How do you define ‘honoring’ me? Is he going to present me with a gold-plated coffee bean?”

  “They’re going to film our dinner for the news tonight. And Ritz has some type of award for you.”

  “Regan, tell Ritz thanks. I’m not really into that kind of publicity. He can ship a bag of Donkey balls and a thank you note to Placerville. That’s reward enough.”

  “Please. It would mean so much to your brother and me. And I’m sure your mother would be thrilled.”

  Hmm. I’d never won anything before. Unless you counted my “Catawba melon” trophy for the highest gross in a golf tournament. I was fairly certain that didn’t count. If it made my family happy, I could sacrifice myself and accept whatever Ritz offered.

  I agreed that Stan, Mother and I would arrive at Koffee Land by four that afternoon. Mother was thrilled at the invitation and even more excited that Regan and Dave’s marriage seemed on the mend. It was har
d to believe it took a murder investigation for them to resolve their differences. But when communication flounders and imaginations go wild, it sometimes takes adversity to bring a couple together.

  I wondered how successful the winner of The Bride and the Bachelor would be in keeping their televised relationship alive and well. Based on the People magazine covers I peruse at the supermarket, the life span of a televised marriage proposal is shorter than the life span of a fruit fly. Was the reason for the short-lived engagements due to the contenders’ desire for fame and notoriety, not for a real relationship? Amanda seemed sincere in her efforts to win the heart of Jacques Cointreau. But according to Walea, fame and fortune were the sole reasons her stepsister had entered the competition.

  Oddly, we’d never learned the name of Keiki’s older boyfriend. Could it have been Ritz? With Koffee Land as the venue for the reality show, he possessed enough influence to get her on the show. But why would he want to kill Keiki? Did she threaten to tell his wife about his infidelity?

  Maybe Pilar had discovered the affair herself and decided to remove Keiki from the show and out of Ritz’s life.

  My head spun with an endless pool of suspects. Detective Lee had informed us he was certain Victor would eventually confess to both murders. Lee might be comfortable with his suspect, but I was far from positive that we’d discovered Keiki’s killer. Victor’s protestations that he had nothing to do with his stepdaughter’s demise had seemed heartfelt to me.

  Mother and I spent a few hours picking up souvenirs for my kids and her husband. I found a cute sundress for Jenna and figured there was a fifty percent chance she might not hate it. It’s so difficult to buy for teens.

  I’d spoken with Ben earlier in the day, and he’d asked if I would bring home one of the giant sea turtles for him. Instead, I chose a stuffed turtle and a children’s book on marine life from the well-stocked Kona Stories bookstore. One of us might as well learn something about ocean inhabitants. Someday Ben might grow up to become a marine biologist like Amanda.