Mele Kalikimaka Murder

by Aimee Gilchrist

  Alex laughed. I didn't know who Keanu was, so I couldn't say.

  "No," he said. "He's a white guy. Light hair. He does have some high-powered dimples though, which give him major mileage with the ladies, for which I am dead jealous. Don't get too excited though. He's an accountant."

  Georgie grinned. "You know how to ruin a good fantasy. That's it. I didn't learn anything else useful. Though I did get groped by some dude with a man bun, but he was incredibly attractive, so we'll decide later if that's a success or a failure."

  Alex had Georgie pegged. For her "he's an accountant" would be like saying "he's a leper," whether he was a dimpled super hottie or not.

  "What did Henry tell you?" I asked Georgie. I was dying to know if rubbing up on Alex had given us anything at all, except for me some fantasy fodder that I didn't need.

  She shrugged. "He didn't say much. He did admit he knew Mallory after he saw you and Alex dancing. He just said she 'liked to have a good time' and she had 'lots of friends,' which both pretty much sounded like he was calling her a slut, if you could hear his tone of voice. I'm really not sure where he has room to talk. He's clearly a grade A manwhore."

  "Did he give you any names?"

  Georgie shook her head. "Nope, but he did say she had someone teaching her to surf, because she talked about it all the time. So we should probably figure out who that person is."

  Alex cocked his head. "Weird that Big Steve, Mo, that one guy, and Squid didn't know." It was weird. Either she'd been hiding it from them too, or they were hiding it from us. I couldn't figure out a reason for either. "Then, while we were waiting on you, I think I also got felt up by the same guy as Georgie. He swore it was an accident. Charlie, what'd you learn?"

  Somehow I'd gotten the most solid information. Checking out the volleyball net had been a good thing. "I talked to a girl out by the net who said Mallory came with a bunch of people from AL. Most surfers, also Poncho, which I really can't figure out yet. And she said that Mallory had an English boyfriend, but she didn't know his name, nor did she say he was there, though she was very into her game. So we should probably figure out who that guy is as soon as possible."

  "Hmm. Did you know she had a boyfriend?"

  I shot Georgie a look. "I didn't know anything about her at all. Oh, and I think that Niall's brother is Eurotrash."

  Alex shot me a look that was half amused, half horrified. "He's a little skeezy, but that's a bit harsh."

  "No, that's a name. Eurotrash. That's what the girl at the net said. That Mallory spent a lot of time with a guy, and the volleyball girl called him Eurotrash, as though that was his name. She said he was there, but she couldn't give me more information than that. Judging from the fact he looks like he stepped out of an International Male catalog, I'm guess she means him. So he probably knew more about Mal than he was willing to tell you."

  We spent another couple minutes discussing the experience, but there really wasn't anything else to be gleaned. I drove in silence for a long time, while Georgie snored in the backseat, even though she was the one claiming it was still early. Alex was awake, but he let me drive in silence, which I appreciated. It let me think.

  Mallory's boyfriend was English, not Irish, and the girl at the net had distinguished him from Eurotrash, who I was pretty sure was Henry. So he was pretty much eliminated as a potential boyfriend. Finding him might be an issue. Hawaii was a melting pot of cultures and nationalities since there were so many tourists, many of whom came from other countries. He could be almost anyone and anywhere on the island.

  It was almost one when we pulled up in front of the resort, jolting Georgie from sleep with an unglamorous snort that I had to admit I found a little amusing. She wiped her mouth and stretched. "I'm going for a walk on the beach. You in?"

  I wasn't sure if the invitation was directed at Alex or me. I glanced at him.

  "Not me. Five comes early," he said.

  When I looked, Georgie was staring at me. I shook my head. "No thanks. I need to get some sleep. This really is a huge time of year for us. We shouldn't have even taken the time to go."

  We shouldn't have, but Alex was right. I felt better now that I was doing something, getting some kind of answers that I could pass on to her parents. I couldn't bring Mallory back to her family, but I could maybe tell them why she was gone. If only it didn't make me feel so much less sick and powerless to keep trying to work and pretend it didn't matter.

  Alex and I trekked across the parking lot, and I stopped to greet several people returning from some kind of Christmas party, judging from the fact they were wearing Santa hats and bathing suits and reeked of vodka. I asked if they needed anything, which was greeted with hysterical laughter, like I was the Jay Leno of Aloha Lagoon. They shook their heads no, which elicited more laughter. I stopped at the door and asked Marcus, one of the night watchmen, to follow them discreetly and make sure they got safely to their rooms.

  Left with only Seth, who was writing in a log on the counter, I approached him. "Today we learned Mallory had a boyfriend. Did she tell you that?"

  He glanced from me to Alex and Georgie. "She mentioned she was dating someone." He didn't offer anything else. Talking to him was excruciating.

  "I guess their relationship wasn't that great, if she was into you," Alex offered.

  "She had concerns about the future of their relationship." It was all he said. Then he proceeded to stare at us without blinking once. He was so creepy. Maybe that was criminal in and of itself, but we had no evidence he was up to something, and if Detective Ray had questioned him and let him go, there was probably a good reason for that.

  We said good-bye to the night watchman and crossed to the desk. At that point we split up—Georgie heading for the back entrance to the sand, me heading for the elevator, and Alex heading back outside for the beach huts.

  He paused at the door. "Let's go over to the Loco Moco tomorrow afternoon and see if Poncho and Keanu can tell us anything useful."

  Out of routine, I wanted to say no. The closer we got to Christmas, the busier our days got, and I was exhausted and overwhelmed by everything that still needed to be done before the end of the week. However, I couldn't help but feel that I owed it to Mallory's parents, to Freemont, to the guests who called this resort a second home, to solve this mystery.

  "Okay." I nodded.

  He looked at the ground for a long moment, like he was debating something or his mind was far away. Then he raised his eyes and met mine. Like an idiot, my pulse immediately jumped into hyperdrive. I needed to get my shield back up, and fast. If just meeting the man's eyes kicked my libido into action, I was in trouble.

  He licked his lips slowly, which really didn't help. "Good night, Charlie."

  I could barely breathe. Striving with all of my might for casual, I probably failed miserably. "Good night."

  For a moment, he looked like he might say something else, but then he just slid his hands into his pockets, turned around, and walked out into the night without another word. Deeply shaken by an exchange that had barely even been an exchange, I headed for my room on trembling legs. I needed to make a list of all the reasons I didn't find Alex attractive. I would do it in the morning. Then I'd read it every day until I was out of this place.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It took a whole lot of coffee to get my brain engaged in the morning, and I drank so much by lunch I was considering just investing in some kind of IV drip. It made me feel a bit better to see that Alex looked like crap as well, and I was pretty sure Georgie was hung over, though I'd never seen her drink anything the night before. The rooms did have minibars, after all. But to her credit, she did just as I asked her to do.

  It was an insanely busy day, and I was approached to help decide which pigs we'd use for the Christmas Eve luau. I was perfectly fine eating meat. I wasn't perfectly fine picking a porker to be murdered in two days' time. I asked the committee, which consisted of several AL community members and business owners—including Gabby LeClair
, who ran Gabby's Island Adventures; Rick Dawson, owner of Rick's Air Paradise helicopter touring service; and Reverend Blake and Pastor Presley—to use their discretion. I told them I trusted them to make that choice, which I hoped would gain their trust in return. The truth was, the food at the Luau was something I wanted to enjoy eating, and I would have no part of perusing it while it still had a face.

  I spoke with several restaurants and locals who were providing the rest of the food for the luau, like the poi, lomi salmon, which was a delicious tomato and salmon salad that even I could get behind, poke, which was a raw fish salad that I could not, haupia, a traditional Hawaiian dessert made from coconut milk, and opihi, freshwater snails I wasn't exotic enough to remotely brave. In one more day, the committee and the cooks would begin working on the imu, an underground oven used to cook the Christmas pigs, Kalua-style.

  I gritted my teeth and made smiles for all the Christmas wishes and endless holiday tunes on repeat. I took lots of pictures for ecstatic families who were living out their dream holidays.

  At four, Alex and I packed it up and headed out to the beach. At some point, he must have relayed the information about today's events to Georgie, since she was already there waiting, dressed in microscopic shorts and a bohemian top with lots of fringy things. I wasn't sure when she'd become an official part of our not-official investigation, but it was clear she had. I'd been irritated at first, just because I was irritated with her in general, but she was coming in handy, and I was starting to enjoy having her there, despite circumstances when last we'd met.

  Some small part of me delighted in seeing her again. I still had less than positive feelings about her actions with regard to Jared, but she was right—I hadn't loved Jared so much as I'd been content with him. My feelings were hurt that she'd betrayed me, but they weren't hurt that she'd betrayed me with Jared, which didn't make a lot of sense empirically, but it did to me.

  The Loco Moco was fairly quiet, one of the reasons we'd chosen this time of day. It was too late for lunch and too early for dinner. Poncho was in the kitchen meticulously arranging all the ingredients for the dinner rush. Volleyball Girl hadn't been kidding when she'd referred to Poncho as OCD. The guy was more particular than I was, and that was saying something.

  Alex leaned over the counter. "Hey, Poncho, can we talk to you for a minute?"

  He shrugged, putting down his carefully folded hand towel and heading for the door to the main dining area. "What can I help you with?"

  Poncho was an older man, maybe in his early sixties, and of all the places I could picture him, a nightclub was the dead last. "We're looking for friends of Mallory's. From the resort? Someone said they saw you guys hanging out at the club in Kapa'a."

  He nodded. "Yeah, sure. I saw her there." He didn't follow that up with any information.

  "Were you friends?" Alex asked.

  He shook his head. "One night there was a salsa party up there. All salsa music and tons of my pineapple salsa. It was a pain in my butt, but I made a lot of money. I saw a couple of people from the resort up there. I heard about Mallory. That's sure too bad, and what with the holidays and all."

  We nodded and agreed.

  Poncho's story made a lot of sense. Unfortunately, it didn't help us much. He'd been there to work and not to hang out. It couldn't hurt to ask though. "We're really trying to find her boyfriend. Do you know who she was dating?"

  He shook his head. "I barely saw her at all. She came and talked to me about my salsa. She was a big fan. She came back and talked to me about a dozen times during the night, but it was all conversation that didn't really mean anything. I saw her dancing with lots of men. I didn't notice she had one particular special friend."

  I was amused by the use of the words "special friend," but it was clear he'd paid enough attention that night to have an idea of what she'd been doing anyway.

  "When was that?" Alex asked.

  "About two or three months ago, I guess."

  We nodded and said thanks, and Poncho returned to the kitchen. Georgie hadn't spoken the entire time, and I was largely silent as well. I knew who Poncho was. Alex clearly actually knew him. It was best to let him take the wheel. I didn't know Keanu at all, even by reputation, so that was definitely going to be Alex's domain.

  When we were alone again, Alex directed us toward the Loco Moco's offices upstairs. I remembered Alex saying that Keanu was an accountant, but according to the sign on his office door, he was also the assistant manager. Sitting behind the desk, Keanu was, as Georgie had heard, a super hottie. He wasn't my type, as I preferred darker men, but with his sun-streaked brown hair and intelligent blue eyes, Keanu was definitely easy to look at. He smiled when he saw Alex, and they exchanged one of those weird man handshakes that looked like some kind of secret meeting sign.

  Alex was also right about the dimples. They were lethal. Probably the only thing stopping Georgie from draping herself over the desk like a mink were the piles of accounting ledgers all around his desk. It was too vivid a reminder for even her to overlook.

  "Hey, we're looking for people who might have hung around with Mallory Langston over at Spikers. We heard you like it there. Did you ever see her with anyone particular?"

  He frowned, taking us all in. "I heard that you guys lost an employee. It was Mallory?" We nodded. He didn't look deeply shaken, which led me to believe he didn't know her well. "That's awful. She was so young."

  There was a moment of agreeing it was an awful thing, and then Keanu moved on to the question. "I go to Spikers sometimes. It's really far and kind of a pain. I actually drove up with Mallory once, and Big Steve."

  Big Steve had not mentioned that tidbit when we'd spoken to him. Also, I very much doubted that Big Steve was old enough to drink, but he must have had a fake ID or something.

  "We heard she had a boyfriend. Do you know him?" Alex asked. "We'd just like to have a chance to talk to him, since we were closest to Mallory."

  I glanced at Alex. Maybe we were closest in proximity, but I was starting to doubt that we had known Mallory at all. However, I wasn't going to contradict him.

  Keanu shrugged. "I didn't know of one. She hung out with a lot of surfers. And I saw her around with Autumn sometimes. You know, Autumn the photographer?"

  I did know her. Like everyone else on the staff, I wasn't friendly with her, but she photographed a lot of weddings done at the resort. She was good too. As a person, I didn't know her very well, but I was getting so I could spot an Autumn Season photograph seconds after seeing it. I could spot her red hair in a crowd too.

  "Can you tell us anyone else she hung around with? Even if they weren't really close?"

  He shook his head. "A guy named Joe. Another surfer named Stan. I'd hit the beach and ask some of the surfers."

  "We already did that. They didn't have much to say."

  Especially, they'd failed to mention that Big Steve was hitting the town with her or that she'd been taking lessons from someone, though I had no idea who. Alex thanked Keanu, and he walked us out of the restaurant and into the sunny December afternoon. It seemed too bright, somehow, for the matter at hand. Like if a person was going to die, there should be a suitably Dickensian atmosphere even in Hawaii. We headed back to the resort, walking in a row, all of us silent.

  "I'll talk to Autumn," I said at last.

  Alex nodded. "You should."

  The afternoon went well, and I had only a small break before dinner. I planned to take care of paperwork that was getting ignored in favor of investigating and Christmas preparations. On my way out of the office, I was stopped and serenaded by a group of slightly tipsy and very tanned guests. Alex and a couple of other employees also joined our crowd. I clapped politely for them and wished them happy holidays, while everyone else cheered and hooted like they were a Broadway show on tour, but my sincerity must have been lacking.

  As I was walking away, I heard one of them say, "I don't think she's very festive."

  Another said, "Well, we can't ex
pect everyone to be Phillip."

  A woman giggled. "No, some of them are Scrooge instead."

  Sighing, I decided going back and apologizing for my lack of festive cheer would just make things worse. Making a mental note to amp up my fake holiday shine, I almost made it to my office before Alex stopped me with a hand on my arm.

  "Hey, we need to talk. Right away."

  I flinched immediately. "We need to talk" was such a heavy-sounding thing to say. Like he was planning to break up with me, which he couldn't do, as we were decidedly not together and never would be, no matter how delectable he looked today or any day. Because I wasn't doing Hawaii. Or Alex.

  "Fine."

  We were closest to my office, so he opened the door and gestured inside. Once both of us were on the other side of the door, Alex locked it, which seemed inappropriate, or possibly only seemed that way because it gave me an inappropriate thrill of anticipation. If only he'd kept his mouth to himself on opening night and his hands to himself at Spikers.

  Now I was weak.

  "Is something wrong with the resort?"

  My panic was settled immediately when he shook his head. "Not as such. However, Charlie, we've got a problem."

  I rolled my eyes, like the child I'd worked long and hard not to be. "As ever we do."

  He glanced down at the floor and then back to me, rubbing the back of his neck. The muscles in his jaw worked, the corded strength of his neck emphasized by the casual gesture. Why did he have to be so hot? It was a special brand of hell reserved just for me.

  "You need to lighten up. The guests are starting to notice your distinct hatred of Christmas. What's the sitch? We're going to have to do an intervention soon, because if you piss off the guests, you're not doing your job. And heaven knows that Charlotte Conner always does her job."

  The way he said it was like an insult. So I always did my job. Was that a crime? Possibly. But my lack of Christmas cheer clearly was. I took a steadying breath.