“Much. Nothing to eat though, thanks. I’d love an iced tea.”
Nat ordered two iced teas and a kalua pig Reuben sandwich with grilled onions and barbecue sauce. When the waiter walked away, Nat gave Em his full attention.
“So aside from the crazy makers showing up, howzit going? Is Louie excited?”
“I’m afraid the Maidens aren’t our only problem. We weren’t here an hour when Louie announced his Booze Bible had been stolen.”
“That’s terrible. I know what that notebook means to Louie. I’ve always thought he should have it published. Are you sure it’s not misplaced?”
Em nodded. “I thought maybe that was the case. I hoped maybe he left it on Kauai, but less than an hour ago he received a ransom note. Whoever has his Booze Bible wants one hundred thousand dollars for its safe return.”
“Are you kidding?”
“I wish.”
“When was the notebook stolen?”
“Right after we checked in. Louie left his room for some ice and left the door propped open.”
“Have you gone to the police?”
“The extortionist said if we do that he’ll destroy the notebook. An HPD officer basically told me they have bigger crimes to solve, and they can’t be worrying about a missing notebook that belongs to an old haole from North Shore Kauai.”
Nat was appalled. “He said that?”
“He didn’t come right out and say it, but I got the drift. The Hilton security officer I’ve dealt with let me watch the video recorded by our hallway camera yesterday. I saw the thief go into Louie’s room and walk back out before Louie got back. In fact, they passed each other in the hallway. The guy was in a hoodie and had a bag in his hand the whole time, so the Booze Bible was probably in it when he left.”
“What about the extortion note? Did someone slip it under the door? Maybe he’s on the hallway video again.”
“No. A porter delivered it from the front desk.” Em sipped some tea.
“Was it mailed?”
“No, there was no postage. Just Louie’s name on the front of the envelope.”
“They must have surveillance in the reception area. Whoever dropped it off there might be on video.”
“If the camera recorded it. They’re having trouble with playback on that one. I already stopped by.”
“I think an extortion note would get HPD’s attention. A hundred thousand is serious stuff.”
“Louie’s terrified that the thief will destroy the notebook.”
“Do you think you’re safe?”
“From pretty much everyone but the monkey.”
Nat spit ice tea down his shirtfront. “What monkey?”
“The one locked in Louie’s bathroom. He didn’t bring Letterman. Someone rented him a Capuchin monkey that is a cocktail taste-tester. Trouble is, the thing gets furious if it hates a drink, and it’s pretty much disliked everything Louie’s given it. It also hates women. It tried to snatch Kiki bald. When we left the suite it had smeared complimentary shampoo and conditioner all over the bathroom and was guzzling mouthwash.”
“You’re not thinking of paying the ransom, are you?”
“Louie is. I’ve talked him out of it for now. I’m not paying any extortionist, but we have to do something. He gave us twenty-four hours. You’re a mystery writer. Any ideas?”
“If I’d written a treatment of this scenario no one would approve it.”
Em sighed and gazed around the open air lobby. Four young women, obviously out for the evening, were checking out Nat, and Em realized, not for the first time, that he was good looking. Not only that, but he was available, a great conversationalist, and level-headed. He had a successful career in a business where most people never made it, not to mention he owned homes in LA, Honolulu, and on Kauai.
“Ask about the video playback in the reception area when you get back. Maybe they’re working. In fact, I’ll go with you if you want,” he offered.
“I’m a big girl. I can handle it,” she assured him. “I’ll ask on my own.”
She hated to admit that hotel security staff might think she was just another ditzy blonde considering the company she kept.
“It’s almost four thirty.” He checked his watch and signaled the waitress.
They walked back into the hotel grounds together.
“Looks like the Maidens have finished without any mishaps,” Em told Nat.
“Either that, or they’ve been rounded up again.”
“Please.” Em held up her hand. “Don’t even go there.”
They spotted the women seated with musicians at tables at the Tapa Bar and skirted behind some high-end stores without being noticed as they headed for the main lobby area. Louie must have been chosen to be featured at the Shake Off press conference. He and the conference organizers were seated behind microphones at a long table answering questions and talking about the event.
“Louie looks pretty calm,” Nat said.
“He’s always at ease behind a mic. The free Mai Tais help, too. He’s worried sick about his notebook and afraid to mention the theft to anyone.”
“For good reason. His Booze Bible is being held hostage. The thief might rip out another page for spite.”
Em sighed. “Dismantling it bit by bit seems pretty sadistic.”
“I’m glad it’s just a notebook and not a person,” Nat said. “Otherwise you’d be getting packages with fingers in them.”
“That’s a visual I don’t want to think about.” She watched Louie for a moment and then said, “Listen, I can check in at security on my own. You don’t need to stay.”
“You’re sure? I really don’t mind.”
“I’m sure.” She smiled. “Thanks for getting me out of here for a while. I really appreciate it.”
He leaned close and kissed the corner of her lips. “Always a pleasure.”
Em watched him walk away before she headed over to security again.
Mr. Kim wasn’t there. An older man was in charge of the desk.
When she asked if the reception area video playback was fixed and if so, could she view it, he said no.
“The tech team is in there right now. Even if it was fixed, we’re short-handed tonight. Can’t take the time to help you. With the press conference for the Shake Off thing going on, the Miracle Cream ladies leaving, and the Shriners set to check in tomorrow, not to mention those pupule hula dancers that were arrested Tuesday night, most of our officers are out patrolling the grounds. We’ve got twenty-two acres and thirty-five hundred rooms here, you know.”
He studied Em for a moment.
She sensed the moment he recognized her.
“Aren’t you with that bunch? The old ladies who dance on the television?” he asked.
“The pupule dancers? I am. I’m also here with my uncle. He’s in the Shake Off. It’s very important that I find out who dropped off an envelope for him earlier today.”
The security office remained adamant. “The equipment’s still not working right now. The weather wrecks it.”
“So I’ve heard,” Em said.
The officer leaned back and called toward the video room, “Hey, Elwin, is the system still broke?”
“Still broke, uncle. Fix ’em bumbye.”
“See?” He shrugged. “Nu’ting I can do.”
Em gave up and went back to the press conference where most of the reporters were directing their questions to Louie.
She watched with interest and finally when Louie was finished, she waved him over.
“That was great,” she told him. “A couple of those guys weren’t very happy sharing the spotlight with you.”
He looked back at the tables set up for the Shake Off promotion.
“I’m n
ot part of the in-crowd.” He frowned. “What they don’t get is I’m the real deal. I’m the true tropical concoctionist they’re all trying to be. I have a past. I have a story. I was around when tiki bars and exotica were invented.”
Em studied the young men gathered across the outdoor lobby. They were decked out in vintage bark cloth aloha shirts and Rat Pack hipster fedoras reminiscent of Sinatra. They were even wearing black and white spectator wing tips. Didn’t they have a clue? No self-respecting tiki bar owner would wear hard shoes and socks in the tropics.
“They’re probably all jealous of you.” She noticed one of the young guys was staring over at Louie while talking to one of his cohorts. “Most of the press was directing questions to you, I noticed.”
He shrugged. “I know a few of these local reporters. The rest already know me through the show. I tried to share the spotlight. Believe me. I tried to get the press to ask more about Lamar dePesto. He’s the founder of this whole national contest. He started it about eight or nine years ago. Can I help it if I’m a celebrity?”
Louie nodded toward a group of mixologists. “See the short guy in the mostly yellow shirt? His name is dePesto. He’s won the Western Regionals every year. He’s from San Diego. He hooked me up with the guy who rented me the monkey.”
“How about telling them to pick up that monkey and that you want your money back? We could get rid of it tonight.”
“I don’t want to insult him.”
“No way you could insult that monkey.”
“The owner. I don’t want to insult his owner. Or dePesto.” Louie had missed the joke altogether.
She pictured the monkey smeared with conditioner. “Just say it didn’t work out.”
“What are you thinking? You’re frowning.” He followed her gaze.
Em tried to relax her expression. “Maybe dePesto is afraid you’ll take the crown.”
“They don’t give out crowns. They give out golden swizzle sticks.”
“Maybe he wants to win desperately enough to steal the Booze Bible,” she said.
“You think?”
“Who else would know how valuable it is?”
If Louie wasn’t so tan he’d have lost all color in his face.
“Maybe he’s already copied all my recipes.” Louie looked glum for a minute. “Did you find a costume?”
“Not yet, but I found out there’s a costume shop within a short walk. It’s on Ala Moana in the Ilikai Hotel. They rent and sell. I’m going to walk on over and check them out.”
“Great. Hope you find something.”
“If I’m not back by seven, go ahead and leave without me. It may take a while for me to get back and changed. Just leave the ticket on the dresser in my room.”
Louie hoisted his drink. “Arrrggghhh. Aye, aye, matie.”
18
IT WAS CLOSE TO six by the time Em walked into the costume store in the Ilikai Hotel within walking distance from the Hilton.
Just inside the front door, the shelves to her right were lined with various lengths and colors of wigs on Styrofoam heads. The opposite wall was covered with accessories from hats to masks to capes, swords, whips, feather dusters, and handcuffs. The rest of the room was filled with costumes on hangers, and there were mannequins dressed in various costumes standing around.
She checked out the handcuffs and pictured herself taking down the Booze Bible extortionist. She thought of her promise to Roland. No more Nancy Drew.
“Aloha.” The clerk was a tall, thin young man with his hair pulled up into a knot and held in place with a chopstick. “How may I help you?”
She walked over to where he stood across the counter. Up close she could see that he was wearing false eyelashes. His lower lids were lined with kohl.
“I need a wig,” she said, starting at the top.
“Lime green and blue are major hot sellers right now.”
“I was thinking of something a little more subtle. Black would be great.”
He squinted at her. “I see you in a Cleopatra cut.”
“Actually, I need a pirate costume.”
“For the Shake Off party?”
“Right. I guess you’ve had a rush on pirate wear.”
“We have, but mostly guys. I’ve got just the thing for you, honey.” He walked over to a tall rounder, sifted through the hangers, and finally pulled out a long, clear plastic garment bag and walked back.
“Here you go. This one’s called ‘Pussy in Boots.’ It’s for the perfect pirate wench. Try it on. You’ll love it.”
“Pussy in Boots?”
“The boots rent separately, though.” He looked her feet. “What are you? A seven?”
She nodded. He handed over the bag and went to get the boots. Em studied the photo on the label on the bag. She blushed just looking at it.
He came back with a pair of black stiletto boots as long as her legs.
“These are thigh high.” He draped them across the counter.
“What do you wear under this thing?” Em pointed to the photo of the costume.
“As little as possible.”
“No, seriously.”
“It’s all in there, crinoline and all. I guess you could shove a pretty piece of lace in the bodice if you’re uncomfortable.” He glanced at a clock on the back wall. “It’s past closing time. You want to rent the costume or not?”
“What about a wig?”
“Oh, yeah.” He walked over to the line of Styrofoam heads and slipped a black Cleopatra-cut off of one of them. From the accessory wall he grabbed a tricorn hat in black edged with black lace.
“You’ll need this, too.”
“How about an eye patch?” The hat would help to hide her face, but would that be enough of a disguise?
He snapped his fingers and hurried back to the accessory wall.
“Here you go.” He brought her a black satin eye mask decorated with sequins.
“Great.” She doubted even Louie would recognize her in this get up. She realized she had no idea what all this would cost.
“So how much is the rental fee on this?”
“Two hundred nine dollars and eleven cents.”
Em started to say she’d changed her mind but quickly decided two hundred nine dollars was a heck of a lot less than a hundred thousand. If she could unmask the extortionist decked out as “Pussy in Boots,” the rental fee was worth twice the price.
Before she changed her mind, she pulled out her credit card and handed it over.
19
LOUIE HAD ALREADY left by the time Em wrestled all the bags and boxes back up the elevator to the suite. She hurried into her bedroom and locked the connecting door in case he came back. She really wanted to see if he could recognize her or not at the party. The less he knew about her plan the better.
She zipped open the garment bag and laid out the costume pieces: fishnet stockings, a short red full skirt, and black crinoline to wear beneath it along with a black leather bodice that laced up over a low-cut red peasant blouse. She stepped out of her comfortable capri pants and knit top and started by pulling on the fishnets. When she had the outfit on, she sat on the bed and pulled on the stiletto boots. They were far more comfortable than they looked and slid on like butter on hot toast. She pinned her hair up and tugged on the wig before she finally looked in the mirror.
Cleopatra goes pirate.
She put on hot red lipstick, black eye shadow, and brushed on a light bronzer, all of which the shop clerk had talked her into at the last minute. When she slipped on the black satin eye mask, she didn’t even recognize herself.
Em left the suite and took the elevator down to the Ali’i Tower lobby. She hadn’t worn stilettos for so long she was a bit wobbly. The uneven stone walkways that threaded through and around the re
sort didn’t help. She took her time, ignored the stares and wolf whistles, but secretly smiled to herself as she walked to the Hilton Convention Center.
Carrying her ticket in one hand and a small woven purse in the other, Em entered the building and followed the music. It was the same kind of music Louie loved, mid-50s exotica at its best—pure South Pacific meets Asia. A piano and stand-up bass player were joined by musicians on a vibraphone, bongos, a conga, gongs, and bells. They let out occasional high-pitched shrieks mixed with bird calls, inspiring jungle fantasies.
A huge banner was draped above the entrance to the ballroom warning that guests should PREPARE TO BE BOARDED! Em handed her ticket to the pirate at the door, a short bald man in a blue and white striped shirt who looked like Disney’s version of Mr. Smee in Peter Pan.
“Ah, my fine wench! Careful, or you’ll be taken captive and held for ransom!”
“Ransom?” Em stared at him for a moment then realized he was making a joke.
“Right you are! Arrrggghh! Be sure to grab a mug of grog. You can keep the mug.” He indicated a table behind him covered with brown ceramic barrel mugs. Shake Off Waikiki 2014 was emblazoned across the front. “You can bet those will be hot ticket items on eBay under Tiki Mugs and Collectibles after the conference.”
Em picked up her grog. Obviously the other partygoers had weighed anchor an hour ago, and most of them were three sheets to the wind already.
She wasn’t two feet into the room when a tall man—made even taller by a black tricorn hat with a skull and crossbones on it—walked up to her.
“Tell me now, wench, what’s a fine beauty like yourself doin’ wanderin’ on her own among these landlubbers?”
She wanted to suggest he stick a sword in his okokle but figured she had to play the pirate game and make nice if she wanted to get close to someone on the committee.
“I’m meeting someone, captain, or I’d shiver your timbers.” She lifted her mug, toasted him, took a swill of grog, and coughed. The beverage consisted of plenty of extremely spicy dark rum, a trace of unrecognizable fruit juice, and not much else.
Too Hot Four Hula: 4 (The Tiki Goddess Mystery Series) Page 9
