Mele Kalikimaka Murder

by Aimee Gilchrist

  I nodded. Sure they were. Absolutely. The place I'd seen Mallory with surfers definitely didn't sound like the same one that Jillian was talking about. "I did notice that she'd developed a recent interest in surfing."

  "Well, I don't know how much actual surfing she was doing. She seemed more interested in the surfers than the surfing. But she was always out there anyway. I've got an ex who likes to hang with those guys, so I saw her sometimes. Anyway, sorry."

  I thanked her and turned. Alex made it clear from his body language that it was me he was waiting on. Not a surprise. We spent most of our time together. More's the pity.

  "What's up?" I requested, stepping into the field of electrified air that always seemed to hang around him, waiting to zap me every time I got too close.

  "Requisition forms." He handed the papers my way. "I know that place. Strangler's Cove Beach, well, and Strangler's Cove too. I've been there."

  "Was it for the bitchin' waves?" I asked.

  Laughing, he took the forms back. "No. It was an accident. I parasail. I got caught in a crosswind. Crashed there. It wasn't until I asked around later that I figured out where I was. The water is hard there. It's dangerous. Only an idiot would surf a place like that on purpose. The cove itself is less bitchin' and more tidal wave. That's a one-way ticket to getting dead the moment you lose control. But there's a beach nearby there. I'd probably have trouble finding the cove again. It isn't even on a map. But I could get you to the beach where I took off that day."

  I evaluated him. "For what?"

  He cocked his head. "Aren't you even the slightest bit curious?"

  "No." There wasn't a lot that he could do to argue with my deadpan voice.

  However, unlike Georgie, he didn't leave it be. "I'm sorry, Charlie."

  I sniffed, turning slightly away before my expression gave anything away.

  "I know you don't want to think about it, because you think you can't afford to."

  It really unnerved me how he did that. No matter what I did, he seemed to understand my motivations. "It's a very busy time. I just need to work." I really just couldn't afford to think about Mallory, or I'd lose it completely, and there really was just no time for that.

  "If you give yourself the time to grieve, to try to understand what happened and why, you'll be able to work much better."

  He really could not have said a more beguiling thing to me. Being able to work better was all I really wanted at this juncture. Mallory's family deserved answers, but all I wanted was to bury my head in the sand. It was a hard fight between my conscience and my fear. Hurt for Mallory's parents won out.

  "Can you take me to the beach you took off from between four and dinner? We have to be back for the meal."

  We had to be. There was no one else to host. It wasn't the standard habit of the resort to have dinner hosts, but the holidays were different. Phillip had set a precedent. He'd presided over the entire Christmas week like the resort was his home and he was the benevolent host. People loved him for that. It kept them coming back. I was no Phillip, not by any stretch of the imagination, but even I knew what needed to be done.

  "Sounds like a plan. That reminds me. You need to wear this."

  He reached into the back pocket of his khaki shorts and handed me a folded thing. It wasn't until he shook it out that I realized what it was. Or at least what I thought it might be. "What in the name of all that is holy is that abomination?"

  Alex laughed. "It's the mistletoe hat. And Phillip always wore it. I've already had guests from last night asking me why you aren't wearing the hat."

  I stared at the bright red trucker hat, adorned on the bill with a strand of utterly ugly fake mistletoe. "I will never wear that hat."

  Alex's impatience was sudden and unexpected. Usually he was pretty tolerant of the differing managerial styles between me and the man who had preceded me. The kind and jovial Phillip had size fifteen shoes I could never fill. And a horrid hat that I wasn't even going to try filling.

  "Guests love the hat, Charlie."

  I shook my head. "I'm sorry. No. It will never happen. You can make me hang decorations. You can make me listen to 'Jingle Bell' remakes until I bleed from the ears. You can make me do fake yuletide smiles while everyone gets all…jolly. You cannot make me wear that hat."

  His lip twitched. "What is the deal with your dead hatred of Christmas?"

  I flinched. The last thing I wanted to talk about was Christmas. Even though I used to live for Christmas, it now seemed easier to ignore all of it. Jared had been a huge fan as well, running the line of Christmas cards for a huge corporation of card makers. It had seemed like fate to have our holiday nuptials. Now I just loathed every Mele Kaliki moment.

  "Listen, you can handle the being jolly, and I'll handle the being efficient. Perfect solution."

  His lips twisted. "We'll return to this later." He tucked the horrid hat back into his pocket.

  "No, we won't," I promised sweetly.

  He might be inclined to bring it up again, but I had no interest in discussing it. As far as I was concerned, the mistletoe hat was a thing of the past. I could see that gleam in his eye, the one that said this would come up again, but I would just continue to ignore it.

  We had a short discussion about the work that needed to be done today, and we agreed to meet in the employee parking lot at four, given that something didn't come up to stand in our way. I was torn. I hadn't lied to Georgie. I didn't want to know what had happened to Mallory, and I didn't want to know why. I wanted to close my eyes and ears to all of it until I could block out the parts that might cause me to stumble, the emotional side of what had happened. I also knew that there was no one here who would fight for Mallory's family. They were a faraway element, a foreign concept. They deserved to know. I couldn't agonize over it at that moment. There was work to be done.

  The first order of business was to handle the shipment of conifers from the mainland that some of the guests wanted for their rooms or huts. Pine trees were certainly not native to any island in Hawaii and had to be shipped across the Pacific to end up in homes, or in this case, rooms. The cost was ridiculous, but Aloha Lagoon got people what they wanted. Even if that meant shipping trees in from somewhere colder. I smiled brightly at every guest I passed, because smiling was as instinctive as breathing when in the presence of guests. I didn't have Phillip's effusiveness, but I truly did care about the guests and their happiness.

  A couple of children ran through the lobby, nearly knocking me over, having a loud argument about whether Santa, or Kanakaloka, as the natives called him, would arrive on a surfboard or on a Skidoo. Neither was correct actually. In the way I always absorbed local knowledge, I knew that most people credited Santa with arriving on an outrigger canoe pulled by dolphins. Barefoot and wearing a pair of shorts and a flowered shirt, of course. Because…Hawaii.

  The kids' mom followed behind, struggling with a massive bag of the kinds of accoutrements that seemed to be inherent to children. They were on their way out to the beach, like almost everyone would be today.

  Including me, apparently.

  The day passed quickly. Even though it was another five days to Christmas, the giant Christmas Eve luau wasn't something that happened overnight. There were dozens of different people involved in the process of prepping for such an enormous meal. Over the years, even the population of AL the town had started joining AL the resort for our feast. It had eventually replaced whatever the town had done alone. I wasn't knowledgeable in preparing luaus, and the list seemed endless. Luckily, Alex was experienced with luaus, and he was ever efficient.

  I saw Georgie on occasion, small peeks near the pool or in the lobby. I still had no idea why she was here, but as least she was staying out of my way. There wasn't much more I could ask. My occasional meetings with Alex were at least civil, and he kept his shirt mostly buttoned, so I considered that a win.

  At four, one of Hawaii's ever-present ukulele players, Nani again, took the stage in the main ballro
om to play some traditional Christmas music. Outside, in the area that had been cleaned of any sign of Mallory's death, another band was channeling the Beach Boys. There was something for everyone and two hours to kill before dinner. I finished the last of my paperwork and locked my office, headed for the parking lot. I braced myself for as much as two hours spent in a small space with Alex, the stuff my nightmares and inappropriate dreams were made of. What I hadn't anticipated was the sudden presence of Georgie.

  As though she'd been watching for me, she appeared out of nowhere, like from behind a palm or something, and materialized at my side near the front door. I said hello vaguely and kept walking through the power doors, hoping she'd get the idea and find something else to do. It didn't work. She kept following me.

  "Where are you going?"

  The question made sense, I supposed, but since I was predisposed to be irritated at her presence, it just made my teeth grind. "I need to go somewhere."

  It wasn't really an answer, but it was as good as I planned to give.

  "Where?"

  Ugh. This was like we were teenagers again, when she'd grill me until I ended up giving her information I hadn't wanted her to have. Information she'd then use against me. "I just have an errand to run with…" I didn't want to finish that sentence. It was stupidity to have started.

  "Alex?" Georgie flashed me one of her signature lascivious grins. "He's seriously hot. Good choice, there."

  "Good choice," I repeated vaguely. I wasn't getting into this with her. Nothing I'd ever done with Alex was my choice. He'd already been here when I'd arrived, and neither Juls nor Rachel was here now to give me the help I needed. He was really the only option. That didn't imply a ton of choice.

  I restrained the urge to warn her away from Alex, but I didn't even know who the warning would be for. Georgie? Alex? My own misplaced, much unappreciated lust for the man? Who knew? So I didn't say anything at all.

  "I have to go," I blurted out, snapping out of my momentary fugue.

  She followed me out to my car where Alex was already waiting, and I didn't know how to tell her to just get lost. Regardless of my feelings on the subject, she was my sister. Before Jared, we'd been everything to each other. She was the only person I felt safe to trust and safe to love. Then she'd ruined it all. For some reason I couldn't begin to imagine, she'd chosen to visit me, without warning, at the absolute worst time of the year.

  "You don't have to go," I finally offered, desperately grasping for, at the very least, polite, if not kind of sisterly.

  Alex cocked his head, taking in the both of us. "We're going out to the beach to see if we can meet up with some of Mallory's friends."

  I closed my eyes for a second, restraining a sigh. He would tell her immediately what we were up to, when I had gone to great lengths to avoid her knowing.

  To Alex, she actually addressed a request to go with us. "Can I go too?" She turned imploring eyes on him, acting as though I didn't exist. Even though it was my car and she'd followed me outside. Georgie always spoke to men first, if it was an option. It was just her way. Maybe they were easier for her to manipulate, or maybe she just liked them better.

  My respect for Alex rocketed up another notch when he turned immediately to me, eyebrows cocked questioningly. I had no doubt that if I said I didn't want Georgie along, he would tell her no. That was something I wasn't sure I'd ever experienced before. Obviously, Jared hadn't spent a very great deal of time saying no to Georgie. I shrugged, faking indifference.

  He opened the back door for her again, even though this time we were riding in my car. Then he jogged around and claimed the passenger seat. This time the smell of Alex in such close confines didn't come as a shock, but it wasn't pleasant either. Well, it was pleasant. It was freaking hot. Which is why it wasn't pleasant. Alex was a complication that I couldn't afford to disregard as an enemy to my peace of mind, my sanity, and my continued work performance.

  It took not quite thirty minutes to get to the beach that Alex had been talking about. It was outside of Aloha Lagoon but not so far it wouldn't attract some of the locals. Like almost every beach in Hawaii, it was occupied. Even the remote beaches usually had two or three random surfers or one intrepid family picking across the shoreline.

  For a moment I was struck breathless by the sheer beauty of the jagged rock line above us, the vivid hues of the setting sun, the intense green of the vegetation around us against the intense blue green of the waves slapping on the shore. Then I forced the awe away. There was nothing in Hawaii that I was willing to fall in love with. Not even a single beach.

  "Wow," Georgie breathed, taking in the riotous explosion of oranges, yellows, and pinks of the sun setting over the Pacific. "This is amazing."

  Alex nodded, taking it all in with pride, as though he'd given birth to Hawaii and raised it, working two jobs to put it through college. "The most amazing place on earth. Come on. Let's catch these guys before they decide to leave."

  This wasn't the beach where I'd seen Mallory and the surfers. That beach had been plainly visible from the highway. But if someone else had seen her here, it couldn't hurt to check it out. Even if the pickings of surfers was slim. We crossed the beach, where I ended up taking off my shoes again because…sand. Always with the sand. I ignored the somewhat pleasant feeling of warm grains between my toes and concentrated on catching the three men in swim trunks who were clearly showing signs their party was breaking up and they were headed out.

  "Hey," Alex called, and they all turned to face us. Alex jogged on ahead, striking up a conversation with the men, who seemed like they were at least paying attention, even if they didn't have any answers.

  It took longer for Georgie and me to reach them. By the time we got there, all four men were joking and chatting like the oldest of friends. Actually, for all I knew, Alex did know them. He was a parasailer, a surfer, and heaven knew what else. We reached them just in time to hear one guy with a brutally shaved head say, "Oh, yeah. We know that chick, but not really well. She hangs with Squid. Ask him. He'll know more."

  I was going to give the benefit of the doubt and assume Squid was a person and that Mallory hadn't spent her off time in the water trolling for cephalopods to hang with. Although, there was no reason I could think of to trust any man who wanted people to call him Squid, but that was another story.

  For a second the guys noticed Georgie, or more specifically her fantastic lack of clothing, in her short-shorts and pink bikini top, and fantastic bounty of cleavage. All the conversation stopped while they were struck dumb. There was a long awkward moment where they simply stared at her. She stared at the sea, totally absorbed in the slapping waves and oblivious to the admiration.

  Alex ran a hand through his hair and also glanced out to the ocean longingly, as though it physically hurt him to be out here and not get in. "Where can we find Squid?" he asked instead.

  The shaved-headed man shrugged. He was gaunt and hard looking, probably the result of being an athlete, but there was something Spartan about his appearance that suggested he was used to pushing himself hard and depriving himself of anything not necessary to live. The smallest of the group, a man that I could see was really more of a boy, raised his hand. Apparently he was young enough that he still needed to be called on to make a comment in a crowd. He was probably eighteen, give or take, and his orange swim trunks hung on his skeletal frame.

  Alex pointed at him. "I think Squid likes your beach, Alex." He still struggled with acne, and his voice broke when he talked. "I see him there a lot."

  I had no clue which beach was considered to be the sole property of Alex, but I was sure that he knew at least.

  Alex nodded. "Thanks, Big Steve."

  The third man was a portly, middle-aged guy with a grizzled white beard and very small swim trunks. It was possible he was nearly as white as I was, though his color could clearly only be attributed to genetics and not a very concerted effort to avoid being in the sun, like my lack of tan. He nodded gravely. "Als
o, if all else fails, Squid likes to eat at Sir Spamalot's. He's there for lunch almost every day."

  Alex brightened at that information. Lunch every day made Squid an exceedingly easy mollusk to track. That was good, considering how narrow our time was currently. Wait a minute. What was I thinking?

  Going to the beach one time was something. Planning a trip to the local hangouts to find Squid was another matter entirely. I still wasn't sure I wanted to know the why or how Mallory was dead. Half of me just wanted to work. Half just wanted to offer comfort to the people who had given me an endless supply of lollypops at every barbeque when I was little. Mallory's family. For a moment, I had forgotten that at the end of that merry chase was a cold reality I still wasn't ready to face. Maybe it was time though. Maybe I needed to face it.

  It took several minutes for Alex to say good-bye to the men, and it involved all sorts of fist bumps and slapping. Once their ridiculously involved secret handshake was finished, we all piled back into the car. It was too late to do anything but immediately return to the hotel and prep for the dinner crowd. It had taken us an hour to get there and back, and the conversation had only lasted maybe ten minutes. I was no detective, but that seemed like an exceptionally bad cost-benefit ratio to me.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Once we were back, I went to my room to change for dinner, because people loved to dress for dinner during Christmas. I'd learned that the hard way the night before when I'd gone to dinner desperate and frazzled after discovering Mallory and found the majority of the women dressed as though we were on a cruise ship. Out of politeness I informed Georgie about the unspoken dress code and went to change my wrinkled suit for a much-nicer pencil skirt and a silk blouse.

  My suite had been designed to be lived in, and it was definitely more of an apartment than a hotel room. I was equipped with multiple walk-in closets, a kitchenette, and a whirlpool tub and steam shower. I didn't really need that kind of a setup. I moved often as a consequence of my job, and my typical stay was under two months. I could have spent my days in the same room the guests used and been fine. But the suite was here and meant for the manager, and so here I was.