Mele Kalikimaka Murder

by Aimee Gilchrist

"Do you know anyone at all named Bill, Hill, Phil?" he asked me, instead of giving his opinion on our varying managerial styles.

  I shrugged. "There's Phil from the kitchen staff, but he's married. And there's also a Bill who works in valet parking, but he's barely five feet tall, only about seventeen, and has some serious skin condition of some kind. Mallory was gorgeous, and I would imagine she'd be more selective than that."

  The truth was I had no idea what kind of men Mallory liked. She'd probably told me at some point during her endless ramblings, but I hadn't been listening. I rarely ever listened to anything she had to say that wasn't about a resort. It was a slap in the face to realize what I could have learned about her, had I only been willing to pay attention. Though I would never be Alex, it was certainly in order that I pay more attention to the reality of my employees and not just their working conditions and efficacy.

  I was a good manager, but I was not a good leader.

  It was a shocking and humbling realization. Give me a resort any day, and I could have it running in tip-top shape in no time. Give me a staff of employees, and I could leave that resort in two months knowing only who was in charge of what and their names so I could be sure to be able to reach them. Connecting with people wasn't really my forte. It was one of the reasons I liked to keep moving. If I stayed at a resort too long, it would begin to be awkwardly obvious how hard I worked to keep this strictly professional at all times. I could never be Alex, nor did I want to be, but I could be more than I was.

  "Seth from the night staff told me that they'd been flirting lately. He gave her his card so she'd remember his name. He didn't mention anything about her saying she was already dating someone, nor did he say they'd gone out. That seems like a pretty glaring omission, if they had."

  Alex cocked his head. "Seth doesn't rhyme with Bill, but it couldn't hurt to ask him if she mentioned having a boyfriend."

  I noticed Detective Ray and a woman I didn't know getting out of a car in the lot. When he saw me, his gaze honed directly in. He left the woman, who may have been his wife—I didn't even know if he was married—on the sidewalk and crossed over to us.

  "Miss Conner. Alex." He nodded at us. It struck me suddenly that it was such an odd way to greet people to just say their names. I'd done it before, but it was so weird to identify someone and have that be a greeting. Like nodding at our toast and saying "toast" before eating it.

  "Any new info?" Alex asked, running a hand through his flyaway hair. If it was possible, the sun actually intensified that smell, the scent of Alex, the reason we weren't driving his car today, and for a moment I was shamefully distracted from the conversation.

  When I reentered the world of the not-pointlessly-lusting, I realized Detective Ray was already in the middle of an answer. "…broken neck, we think."

  The words made my stomach clench and then flip violently. I thought about throwing up for just a moment, but luckily the feeling passed.

  "Mallory died from a broken neck?" I repeated, my voice wavering shamefully. Alex's hand darted out and rested lightly on the small of my back. It wasn't a violating touch. Not even a significant one, but it stopped my urge to hyperventilate almost immediately.

  Ray shot me an evaluating look. "Yes, she did."

  "Did you know that Mallory had a boyfriend?" Alex asked.

  Ray shook his head. "Can't really say what we know and don't know in an active investigation. Her body was released to her family yesterday to be returned to Chicago."

  That didn't help much. Which was probably the intention. I had to ask because I had to know the answer. Was it something I'd done that made her die? Had she noticed something wrong, crawled inside to fix it, and died in a freak accident? I couldn't imagine her doing it, but I had to ask anyway. "Did it…did she die from the fall?"

  For a moment, Detective Ray's look was pure sympathy, but it only lasted for that small second. "No. She was already dead."

  I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, struggling for control. Well, at least there was that much. Alex stepped a little closer to me, and I let him because, once again, when it got hard, he was an odd source of comfort I wouldn't have expected.

  Next to me I heard Alex's voice as if far away. "Then why or how did she end up in the waterfall?"

  For a long moment Detective Ray didn't speak. Long enough that I finally felt okay opening my eyes.

  "I'm not sure. I suspect it was some kind of message. We just have to figure out who it was to and what it was about."

  The idea that a person would murder an innocent human being just to send a message to someone else was horrifying. I could barely speak. When I did force words past my thick throat, I wasn't even sure Detective Ray could hear them.

  "She didn't…she didn't suffer…right?"

  I didn't want to hear the answer, but now that I knew how she'd died, I was sick with the possibilities. I would never sleep again unless I knew the cold facts. If she did suffer, it would be better to know and think hard on it than to suppose while I lay in bed awake. I could feel Alex's fingers curve against my back, and against my will, I folded into his strength. I shivered.

  Slowly, Detective Ray shook his head. "I don't think so. You still can't think of a reason someone would want her dead?"

  I shook my head silently. She didn't suffer. At least there was that.

  "And you can't think of anyone who knew her better than you?"

  I couldn't bring myself to point a finger at my own sister. Again, I just shook my head. Alex shot me a brief look but said nothing.

  Detective Ray nodded. "I'll be seeing you, Miss Conner."

  He returned to the woman, and they headed up towards the counter, while Alex and I stood in total stillness for a long moment. "Hey," Alex called after Detective Ray. He turned. "Did you ever find out why she had Seth Peterson's card in her hand?"

  Ray cocked his head. "We talked to Seth."

  It wasn't an answer, but I figured it was the best we were going to get out of the tight-lipped detective. He nodded again and turned back to the counter. Alex pushed a hand through his hair and used the hand on my back to direct me toward the car. I should have done something to end him touching me, but for the moment, I didn't want him to stop. He made me feel safe. Protected. Which was exactly the reason I should have stopped him.

  At the car he paused. "Want me to drive? I don't mind."

  I shook my head. I couldn't give up that much control just for the sake of comfort. I would drive.

  We drove in silence until we were nearly across the length of the resort.

  "I think we should go to the club. What did he call it?"

  "Spikers," I responded absently, keeping my eyes on the road and my mind on anything but Mallory. That was a weird name for a club. It sounded like a warning to the ladies about the quality of people present at the club, to be cautious not to put down your drink.

  "Right. We should go tonight. I have no idea where it is, but I'll find it."

  I shook my head. "We can't do that tonight. We're busy." I realized how shrill I sounded and dialed it down a notch. It wasn't his fault that Mallory had died. At least I was pretty sure it wasn't. No, definitely not. In a million years, no matter how many faults I wanted to lay at his feet, Alex would never be a killer. "We already took way too long a lunch, and we don't have time for something like that."

  Alex leveled a hard look my way, and for once it actually worked. "We need to make time. The resort isn't the only thing in the world, Charlie."

  Ouch. It wasn't the only thing in the world, but it was the only thing that made me feel better. "I really don't think this is a good idea."

  We pulled into the employee parking lot. "Well, I do. And I'd like you to go as well. You can get the men to talk to you easier than I can, and I'll target the ladies. Someone has to know something."

  I laughed. I didn't mean to—it just came out. "I'm not exactly man nip, Alex. I'm…vanilla. And uptight. And…" I stopped myself before it got depressing. "If you want s
omeone men will pay attention to, bring Georgie."

  His expression burned, his dark eyes searing into me. "Believe me, Charlie—you're hot, and you could distract someone into saying things they don't mean to say." Without another word, he hopped from the car, leaving me alone and confused and a teensy bit inappropriately turned on.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Several of the staff, including Georgie and me, spent the afternoon placing wreaths made from the traditional Hawaiian choice of poinsettias on every door in the resort, as well as the doors of the huts on the beaches. It was another tradition started by Phillip. The man had truly loved him some Christmas. All Hawaiian people seemed to, with a kind of spectacle that fit their everyday fascination with the colorful and extreme, but Phillip really had taken it to a special kind of level.

  However, I wasn't about to stop his traditions now. Except for toning down the decorations just a tad and the stupid mistletoe hat, which I'd rather start myself on fire than wear. I wasn't even Aloha Lagoon's permanent manager, and it wasn't my place to interfere with traditions that had begun before me and would continue after I was gone.

  There was a random concert going on out on the beach, and honestly, I wasn't even surprised anymore when I saw something like that. It could have been just a group with a sudden urge to jam. However, it was more than likely a party. Some of the locals were in the midst of Mahahiki, a traditional Hawaiian celebration to respect mother earth, which had come before the Christianity thing. It wasn't so big anymore, mostly faded away to make room for Santa and Christmas trees, but there were still a few who saw it as another excuse to party.

  The calendar had once been divided into only two seasons, Kau, which was summer and considered to be the dry season, though so far I hadn't seen even a moment I would have considered dry. There was also winter, or Makahiki, which was considered the wet months and several months of taking it easy, which was a good reason to party. Not that these guys needed much of a reason to have another shindig. It seemed to be inborn around here.

  If there was any kind of war going on between people, fighting was banned during Makahiki so that people could get down. Luckily, we were way past warring people looking to prove superiority over their neighbors. Now it was mostly random festivals and concerts, trying to give a vague reminiscence of the old culture.

  Eventually, I left the others to finish the task and returned to my office to check on the preparations for the luau. Because the town had agreed to combine their massive local luau with ours, there were multiple sources of money involved in the cost of planning. There were also multiple people working the planning. But with only a few days left before Christmas Eve, we were way past planning and on to panicking.

  People were already readying the pigs for slaughter in just a couple of days, the chocolate pies, the fruit cakes, something called almond floats—whatever that meant—and the inauspicious-sounding green tea ice cream. Maybe it was good, but more than likely it was only good if you'd grown up with it, and it sounded suspicious to me. I was a little homesick for the idea of a nice dead bird, instead of pig, and a couple of dinner rolls, but when in Rome.

  Once dinner hit and Alex and I had done our hosting duties, we met in the corner of the main dining room, where happy guests were laughing along with the strains of Benny Hoku and his Ukulele "Wahines" playing live music. Outside, there were games for the kids and an ice cream bar with so many toppings the parents were probably going to hate us come bedtime, when their kids were too sugar high to sleep.

  "I found Spikers. It's on the other side of the island. About as far from Aloha Lagoon as you can get. Which may be why Mallory chose it," Alex told me, just as Georgie decided to join us.

  "What's Spikers?" she asked.

  Of course. Why did she always pop up right when I needed her to not be there? Actually, this time I might have needed her to be here.

  The look Alex gave her was a shock to me. There was no open friendship in it. What had happened while I wasn't paying attention to cause that one? I probably shouldn't have even been curious, but I was. I was sure we needed her, regardless of how much Alex might think I was capable of being a femme fatale. Just the memory of the look he'd given me was way too hot to dwell on when things needed to be done. Or ever, if I was smart.

  "I need your help. There's some club on the other side of the island that Mallory frequented. I need you to go there with us and be hot. See what information you can get."

  Georgie's mouth pursed. I would have thought she'd by dying to get to a club. "Why don't you just go and be hot?"

  I glanced down at my tan linen suit and red blouse, added in an attempt to be even vaguely festive. "I don't do hot."

  She rolled her eyes. "We look exactly the same."

  I really hadn't expected this argument. "No, I assure you. We do not."

  She waved me off. "Wardrobe. Come on. I'll fix you up. I'm sure I've got something perfect. What kind of club is it?"

  Eyebrow cocked, I glanced at Alex for help. He was still standing there, looking more pensive than disapproving now. I shrugged. "A club kind of club. People probably drink there?"

  Sighing, she turned to Alex too. "What kind of club is Spikers?"

  "Europop dance."

  At least he knew the answer. I didn't even know what that meant.

  "I definitely have something. Let's hit my room. You don't want to be too early. You'll stick out, and no one Mallory liked will be there anyway."

  Alex grabbed Georgie's arm, not hard but definitely enough to get her attention. "I want to talk to you."

  Some kind of message was communicated between them with a glance, and my stomach twisted. They'd definitely been spending time together that I wasn't aware of. Not that it was any of my business. My only business was getting this resort through Christmas, and now, apparently, figuring out who Mallory knew besides me.

  "I'll be right behind you," she told me. "You know where my room is, right?"

  I nodded. Of course I knew. I knew which guest was in every room. I wasn't going to say a single word to her, or to Alex. If they wanted to have a relationship, one of any kind, it was none of my business.

  None at all.

  I forced myself to not even look their way until I reached the hallway to go upstairs. They were standing close together, and Georgie was speaking quickly and urgently. Alex stood with his arms crossed over his chest, legs braced, everything about him conveying the message he did not approve.

  Not my business.

  I went upstairs and waited in front of Georgie's door. I had a master card key, but I wasn't going to invade her privacy. I didn't feel we were close enough for that. It took her maybe five minutes to join me upstairs. She didn't mention anything Alex had said, not that I was surprised by that.

  She opened the door and ushered me inside, heading right over to pull open her closet, dramatically revealing about twenty outfits. I honestly couldn't figure out how she fit that much stuff into a single bag. That was a marketable skill.

  She pulled out a tube with several slits cut through it, the holes covered in a black mesh.

  "Good lord." I stepped away. "What the hell is that thing?"

  She rolled her eyes. "It's a dress. Okay, maybe that's a little much for you. Let's keep looking."

  I stared at the offending garment as she tossed it on the bed. No one should ever, ever, ever have had any reason to where that, anywhere. Ever.

  "How about this?" I snapped my head back her way, watching as she displayed another tiny black dress with one strap and an uneven hemline that wouldn't even cover my butt—which was likely the point—but that dress was a short train to Nopeville for me.

  I shook my head. "Unless you're Pebbles, there's no reason you should be wearing that dress."

  To my surprise, she laughed. "Okay, this is going to be harder than I thought. What about…no." She tossed another tube dress, this one teal blue lamé. She pulled a couple more dresses—both covered in sequins, one silver and one gold—and
threw them on top of the others. No wonder she could fit so many outfits in one bag. They were all made of spandex and tailored to fit a twelve-year-old.

  She waved her hand. "This isn't going to work. Here, let's do this instead." She reached inside and produced a pair of pants, which I appreciated, though I was less appreciative of their skintight cut and the fact they were made of leather. Then she added a black shift top with a larger swingy kind of bottom, like a bell shape, that I had to admit, reluctantly, that I actually liked.

  "Go put this on. Then we'll work on shoes and jewelry."

  I headed for the bathroom, eyeing the pants suspiciously. At least I could wear a bra with this outfit, which didn't seem like a possibility with the rest she'd shown me. My bra and I had a relationship that I appreciated. She kept the ladies in check, and I kept looking like a professional—and not part of the world's oldest profession.

  "You're going with us, right?" I called through the door, nearly falling over trying to get the pants on.

  "I don't know. I think you can handle it."

  I shook my head, even though she couldn't see me. "I don't think I can. So you should come. Besides, we can cover more ground that way."

  It took Georgie several seconds to respond. "Well, okay, I guess."

  She fell silent, and I finished struggling into clothes that were probably a size too small for me and intended to be tight anyway. But finally I was dressed. When I got back out of the bathroom, Georgie was already dressed in the teal blue tube dress, which of course she made look good even though it was inherently hideous. Her clothes were an abandoned heap on the bed. I'd folded mine and was holding them awkwardly.

  She snapped them out of my hand and threw the pile next to hers. The next hour was a mad rush of strappy stilettos, hair spray, makeup, and general agony. Also, I couldn't comfortably sit, so all of that was done standing up, in four-inch stilettos. When we were finally both ready to go out and meet Alex, it was already after ten. No worries for us about arriving unfashionably early.

  Alex had also changed. His dark blue jeans weren't tight at all, but they were cut well, for maximum fit. Combined with a plain white V-necked shirt and a fitted black sport coat hanging open, it was clear he knew how to dress for a club, unlike me. His black hair was mussed—kind of spiky, kind of just messy, completely adorable. I concentrated on everything else I saw in the lobby.