Mai Tai One On

by Jill Marie Landis

  The rusted screen door was ajar and the interior door wide open. There was no sign of Louie anywhere.

  Sophie glanced over her shoulder. Guitar and ukulele music drifted over from the Goddess as the Maidens danced to a North Shore favorite, Hanalei Moon.

  “Louie?” She called his name as loud as she dared. She ran around the corner of the house where she had a view of the yard all the way to the beach. He wasn’t there or in the open garage. There was only one place he could be.

  Sophie crept up the stairs to the porch. She paused just outside and hoarsely whispered, “Louie!”

  Hearing no response, she opened the screen all the way and stepped inside the front room. There were piles of papers, empty pizza boxes, and a hefty bag full of recyclable aluminum cans beside the sagging sofa. The only thing of value in the entire room was the five foot wide flat screen television which looked completely out of place in the ancient shack. The wooden floor creaked beneath her feet.

  “Louie?” She whispered. The place gave her the creeps. She expected Harold to come stomping in any minute and start hollering at her in pidgin.

  She headed for the kitchen. No sign of Louie but there was a drawer partially opened near the sink. She walked over, pulled the drawer all the way open and found herself staring at a hand gun. She picked it up with her thumb and forefinger. It was so small the handle fit into the palm of her hand. Python 357 was printed on the barrel. She checked the cylinder. The chambers were empty.

  A thump from the back of the house made her jump. She dropped the gun into the drawer and slid it back the way she found it.

  “Louie?” She whispered. “Where are you?” She paused to listen and heard nothing but the breeze wafting through the palms outside.

  As she walked through the small living room, she nearly lost an acrylic nail trying to open a rusty cookie tin sitting on the coffee table. It was filled with old photos. She started shuffling through them and found one in faded sepia tones dated 1898. It pictured a Japanese woman in a lovely kimono. Others had been taken in Lihue during WWII. Then she came across a photo of Harold with Louie’s wife, his tiki goddess Irene Hickam.

  They appeared to be in their teens, probably during high school. It was the only time Sophie had ever seen Harold’s smile. The old guy had been shockingly handsome. His black hair was slicked back Elvis style, his Levi’s were cuffed a la James Dean and the sleeves of his white T shirt were rolled up above his biceps.

  It had to have been a blow when Louie Marshall came along and stole his high school sweetheart, but not as much as the continuous torture of living next door and watching Irene and Louie share their lives, grow their business, and celebrate anniversary after anniversary until Irene’s sudden illness and death.

  No wonder Harold had hated Louie.

  Sophie put the photos back and pressed the lid onto the tin. Then she crept toward the dark hallway that led to the back room. She stopped in her tracks at a small console table shoved up against the wall. It held a lamp and a phone, a stack of papers, bills and store receipts. Right there beneath the phone was a list of names and phone numbers. When she saw Fernando’s name near the bottom of the page, she figured it had to be Harold’s client list.

  She glanced toward the door, slipped the page out from beneath the phone, folded it into quarters and slipped it into her back pocket. Then she stepped into the short hallway.

  “Damn it, Louie,” she whispered. “Are you in here?”

  The walls of the narrow hall intensified the sound of something large rustling around in the next room. It was either very big rat or the absentminded mixologist. She walked into the bedroom and found Louie on the floor beside the bed, sweeping his arm back and forth beneath it.

  “Louie, get out of there.” She stood over him as he gathered himself up and brushed dust balls off his aloha shirt. “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for something,” he said.

  “What?”

  He shrugged.

  “We have to get out of here. Em needs you,” she said.

  “Em who?”

  “Knock it off.” It upset her to see him confused. Kiki had let her in on how the Maidens had exaggerated Louie’s forgetfulness to lure Em to Kauai to save the Goddess. Louie wasn’t as bad off as Em thought. “Come on, now. This place gives me the creeps.”

  She took his hand and led him out of the bedroom and back through the house. Just as they stepped out of the front door, the sound of tires on gravel set Sophie’s nerves on edge.

  Sure enough, Leilani’s Mercedes was pulling into the drive. Shark Lady was sure to spot them if they didn’t move fast. The car stopped beside the house.

  Sophie grabbed Louie’s hand. “Run!”

  She darted off the far side of the lanai opposite the driveway. Looping behind the house, she paused long enough to peek around the corner of the garage. Sure enough, Leilani was out of the car, headed up the stairs.

  “Is the coast clear?” Louie asked.

  “Shh. She’s staring at the lanai,” Sophie whispered.

  “Then let’s make a run for it.” Louie darted toward the hedge and disappeared between branches of foliage. Sophie ran after him, broke through to the other side and smacked right into Detective Roland Sharpe, KPD.

  Louie was standing beside Roland, his expression that of a naughty five year old. Sophie broke out in a cold sweat and started clicking the stud in her tongue against her teeth.

  “You two out for a little jog or what?” As usual, Detective Sharpe’s was devoid of expression.

  Louie smiled vacantly.

  Sophie took a deep breath. “Louie wandered off. Em sent me to find him.”

  The detective scanned the parking lot and then looked toward the Otanami house. “So what were you two doing over there?”

  Louie smiled benignly. “Went to pick limes. We ran out.”

  “So where are they? The limes.”

  Louie shrugged. “Not the right kind.”

  Just then Leilani Cabral appeared around the end of the driveway walking at a fast clip.

  “Oh, Roland. Lucky you’re here. I was just about to call 911. I stopped by to pick up some paperwork and found the front door standing wide open. Then I saw her dart through the hedge.” She pointed at Sophie and added, “She broke into my uncle’s house.”

  Sophie couldn’t see Sharpe’s eyes behind his shades but she could feel the stink-eye he was giving her.

  “I know how this looks, but Louie disappeared and Em sent me to find him.” Sophie didn’t know if she should throw Louie under the bus and admit that he’d gone inside first or not. Louie could always play the dementia card.

  The officer turned to Louie. “Were you in the house?”

  “What house?”

  “Otanami’s house.”

  “I guess so.” Louie turned to Sophie. “Was I?”

  She nodded.

  “I knew it.” Leilani yelled. “At the very least that’s breaking and entering.”

  “The door was already open,” Louie said. “I didn’t break anything. Harold had something of mine and I want it back.”

  At this point, Sophie saw Em hurrying across the Goddess parking lot toward them. The sun was sinking lower in the late afternoon sky. The scent of succulent roast pig filled the air. Those gathered for the luau were on their third round of Great Balls of Fire already and feeling no pain. A small knot of guests drifted along in Em’s wake, curious to hear the exchange.

  “What’s going on?” Em struggled to jam her stray blond hair back into a ponytail. She looked at Louie first, then Sophie.

  “These two broke into my uncle’s house,” Leilani said.

  “The door was open,” Louie shrugged. “I went inside to get something of mine.”

  “I went in looking for Louie.” Sophie added. “Like you told me to.”

  Em shoved her hands into her back pockets looking like she was at the end of her rope. It had been a long two weeks since the murder.

 
“What were you looking for, Uncle Louie? What did Harold have of yours?”

  Louie thought for a second and shrugged, “Hell, I don’t remember.”

  14

  The Fire Dancing Detective

  Em waited until Louie and Sophie walked away before she turned to Roland Sharpe who towered over her. She couldn’t help but notice what an effect Roland had on Leilani.

  “Thanks for calming Leilani down and for letting Louie and Sophie off with a warning.” Em had thanked him three times already. Relief didn’t come close to what she was feeling. “I really did send Sophie after Louie. I have no idea what he was looking for in there. He might not know either.”

  “Just because I let them off easy this time doesn’t mean I don’t think they’re up to no good. There’s something going on and when I’ve got enough proof, I won’t hesitate to start locking folks up—no matter who they are.”

  “Book ‘em, Dano.” The minute it was out, she wished she hadn’t said it.

  He pointed to the side of her head. “Your pony thing is on the loose.”

  She grabbed a lock of her ponytail that was dangling beside her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

  He watched intently. “You’re the type who still believes in people, eh?”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.”

  “Guilty until proven innocent? I don’t think it’s supposed to work that way.”

  “Something’s up with your bartender.”

  “If I didn’t trust her, I wouldn’t have hired her,” Em assured him.

  “I’ve sent her description and ID to the airport officials. She can’t get off the island. Unless she goes by boat.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

  “What nice little world are you from, lady?”

  Nice little world? Her life had been anything but nice.

  “In Southern California the body count usually reaches a solid ten before the first commercial airs on the nightly news but I’m not about to give up on people yet.”

  “Yeah? Well just don’t let all the flowers and rainbows around here fool you.”

  “It was pretty hard to miss the dead guy in our barbeque pit.” She wasn’t smiling. Harold’s death was no laughing matter. They both knew it.

  “Imu. If you’re gonna live here, learn the lingo.” He cracked the smallest of smiles.

  “Imu. Schmeemu. Are you any closer to finding out who really killed Harold?”

  “I can’t divulge any information.”

  “That sounds like a no. So that’s why you’re hanging around here trying to blend into the luau crowd; you have no suspects other than Sophie.” She rose up on tip toe, crooked her finger, indicating he should come closer. He lowered his head.

  Em whispered, “Your disguise isn’t working. You look like a detective in an aloha shirt.”

  She took a step back. “How about I hire you for the show? You could fire dance and keep an eye on things at the same time instead of just showing up unannounced and spooking everyone.”

  “I’m not spooking anyone but the bad guys. Besides, you can’t afford me.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  He drew back. “By who?”

  “Kiki. But she said you’re worth it.”

  “Kiki talks too much.”

  “That’s our Kiki. Besides, the Maidens would insist on sharing the spot light with you and with their luck, you’d end up torching one of them.”

  “One hell of a finale, though.”

  It was Em’s turn to smile. “We’ve had enough catastrophes for a while. Thanks anyway.”

  Roland was still trying to appear casual as he checked out the gathering. There was a sizeable crowd lined up at the buffet table on the lanai. It was a shock when Em found herself wishing he was still looking at her. She glanced away for a second and when she caught him watching her again, she blushed.

  “Before you moved here I used to drive by this place and there’d be hardly anybody inside,” he said.

  “Is that a compliment? I thought you attributed our crowd to Harold’s murder.”

  “That, too. For real, though. If this keeps up, pretty soon you’ll be able to hire some quality luau entertainment.”

  “And cut the Hula Maidens? They’re the reason I’m here.”

  “You really got this business turned around for your uncle.”

  “It hasn’t been easy.” She thought about the legal pad full of ideas that were still on hold.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Once Louie and the Maidens convinced me to stay, I came up with a list improvements for the bar. The building needs a facelift inside and out but there is not enough money to cover that. So I went with things that didn’t cost much, like tablecloths and repainting instead of replacing the plywood floor with hardwood. I also thought about adding additional lanai space but…”

  “But folks like the Goddess the way it is.”

  “So I found out.” She shrugged. “Not only that, but all the money and determination in the world can’t work miracles if popular opinion and the county planning department conspire against you. So, I made a few small changes instead of big ones. Booked nightly entertainers who work cheap and let the Maidens dance almost nightly. I’ve learned there really is such a thing as Hawaiian time and that you can’t buck the system around here.”

  “Yeah and right now Hawaiian time is ticking.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d better get going.”

  She needed to get back inside, too.

  “There’s always a place for you in our show—when you lower your rates,” she added.

  “Yeah? Well, you get what you pay for.” Sharpe walked away without looking back.

  15

  Fernando’s Hideaway

  From the rising pitch of conversation throughout Fernando’s glass and concrete home, Em could tell that her idea of a Retro Polynesian theme for the housewarming was a hit.

  Though Shark Lady made no secret of the fact she wished Fernando had chosen more upscale catering, even she appeared to be in a good mood. Thankfully, as Fernando had told Em, he had his mind set on helping out his new North Shore neighbors by throwing his business their way.

  Undeterred, Leilani arrived and positioned herself in the entry of the luxurious home and assumed the role of self-appointed hostess, greeting guests who were arriving in vintage aloha attire. The women showed up in everything from sleek strapless dresses from the 40s that were worthy of Dorothy Lamoure, to paisley print kaftans from the 70s. The men wore silkies, Aloha shirts worth a small fortune at antique and collectables shops.

  Em was busy circulating through the luxuriously appointed rooms. The house was like nothing she’d ever seen. It even had a manmade stream that ran through the great room and meandered out into the gardens where it flowed down a faux waterfall into a pond full of exotic koi.

  She walked out to the front lanai to see if Leilani needed another drink. In black pants and a black Tiki Goddess tank top, Em was no competition beside the Realtor in her sleek crimson Mandarin style gown.

  “Would you like one of Uncle Louie’s special cocktails, Leilani? He’s come up with a new recipe named Fernando’s Hideaway.” The drink was aqua, to match Fernando’s eyes and boa and served in a hurricane glass.

  Leilani ignored her for a moment as she smiled and nodded to someone across the room.

  “See that man?” She nodded in his direction. “That’s Marley Martin, lead guitarist for the Mad Green Zombies. I sold him a home not far up the road last year.”

  “That’s nice. Would you like a Hideaway? Pupu?”

  Shark Lady rolled her eyes. “I make it a habit never to drink anything blue and I rarely eat. I’ll stick with champagne.”

  Em was about to go refill a tray with drinks when Fernando joined them.

  “It’s going well, yes?” He tossed one end of the aqua boa over his shoulder and indicated his white jumpsuit with a wave of his hand. “This is a copy of the very jumpsuit worn by Elvis
in Blue Hawaii. The wedding scene. We look fierce, no?”

  “Definitely,” Em said.

  Leilani merely smiled. Fernando made a habit of focusing on himself. Em wondered how she was ever going to find out what he had told Leilani the day he mentioned his conversation with Harold, which had to have been one of the last talks that anyone had had with poor Mr. Otanami. Em had no idea how to bring up the subject without sounding as if she were prying.

  Then again, Fernando was already so inebriated he might not think a thing of it. He probably wouldn’t even remember this conversation later.

  Things had slowed down a bit. Everyone seemed to be happily chatting and filling up on pupus while they waited for the entertainment to start. Em decided to take a chance while Leilani was busy chatting up a late arrival about the sale of the property next door.

  Em said, “Fernando, if you have a moment, I’d love to finally introduce you to our chef, Kimo.”

  “We would love to meet Mr. Kimo.”

  “Actually, it’s Mr. Godwin. Kimo Godwin.”

  “We will meet him, too.”

  Fernando followed her out to the back lanai overlooking the expansive grounds. The lawn and gardens extended to the beach where low waves rolled onto a pristine shoreline. She paused a few feet from the barbeque where Kimo was basting skewers threaded with chicken satay. So far there had been no indication that Roland or the KPD was any closer to solving Harold’s murder and though Detective Sharpe hadn’t come right out and admitted it, everyone knew he was focusing on Sophie. Whatever Fernando said might help.

  Em took a deep breath and said, “Fernando, you were one of the last people to speak to Harold Otanami. Do you know anything that might help with the murder investigation?”

  He shrugged and took another sip of his Hideaway. “He was worried about our building permit. It was impossible for him to believe the plan was already approved.” Fernando smiled, showing blinding white teeth. “But of course, Fernando’s name moves mountains.”

  Em nodded. Escrow had just closed and yet he was about to build. She figured Fernando or his “people” had bribed someone in the planning department.