Ukulele Deadly

by Leslie Langtry

  "All over." Pastor Dan makes sure the door closes behind him.

  He slumps against it, and for the first time since I moved here, he looks every one of his sixty-something years. Why does Mary Lou torment him like this?

  "Why don't you sit down? I'll grab a bottle of water." I lead him to the back pew and race to his office fridge.

  Dan accepts the bottle gratefully and takes a drink. The look on his face worries me.

  "I don't know, Nani. Maybe it's time I retire. I'm getting too old for this."

  I sit next to him. "It's just a few snakes and some cosplay. No reason for you to retire!"

  What would I do if the chapel closed? I mean, sure, I've got the big gig now at the resort, but this was my first job here. It's special. I'll work here until I die…or go to prison for murder. Whichever happens first.

  "It's not that. I like the weird stuff." He takes another swig of water.

  "Is it because of Mary Lou?" I ask.

  Pastor Dan nods. He looks so upset it makes my heart break.

  "Why don't you fire her? There are lots of people who would love her job." At least I hope there are. I could see the classified ad now: Need pastor's assistant. Must love Elvis and snakes.

  The man sighs. "I just don't know if I can do that. Throw her out onto the streets. Seems cruel."

  My eyes bug out. "Cruel? She's screaming at the clients! Today she stormed out, but how long will it be before she starts taking a blowtorch to people?"

  "I don't think it'll go that far." Dan laughs.

  "She's disrespectful to you, and she hates me. Most people would've fired her long ago."

  Pastor Dan nods. "Yes. And they have. Before she started with the Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel, Mary Lou had been fired from every job possible in Aloha Lagoon and half the jobs on the island."

  I freeze. It's never occurred to me that Mary Lou had worked anywhere else before. I'd always assumed she and Pastor Dan started the chapel together. But why did I think that? That makes no sense.

  "I was her last hope. If I didn't hire her, she'd have to go back to the circus."

  I let the word roll around in my head like a loose marble.

  "Did you just say circus?"

  "Yes. Mary Lou was with a circus for years. Back on the mainland. Then about thirty years ago, she decided she'd had enough and moved to Hawaii. To Aloha Lagoon."

  "The circus? Are we talking about a circus circus? With elephants and trapezes and strong men?" I think about what Andy had told me about Great-Aunt Laura.

  He frowns. "Of course I'm talking about a real circus, Nani. What other kind could there be?"

  There was this shoe store in Wichita that was set up like a carnival. But I decide not to mention it.

  "She didn't like the circus?"

  Pastor Dan shakes his head. "She hated it."

  Okay, so now I have to find out exactly what Mary Lou did in the circus. The possibilities are terrifying. Maybe she was just the manager. Or accountant. Now that I could see.

  "It's not easy being a bearded lady…"

  I try really hard. I do. I swear. But after the shock wears off, waves of laughter wash over me. I snort-giggle for ten minutes straight before I see the look on Pastor Dan's face. Uh-oh.

  "Anyway." His eyebrows beetle together. "The resort was new then. And Mary Lou started out in human resources. They wanted to fire her but thought that maybe she just wasn't in the right place. It was the beginning of the nineties, you know."

  What does that have to do with anything? I try to think back to what I knew about the era but come up blank. Maybe there was some work program for the personality challenged that was big in the day.

  Dan goes on. "They moved her to the front desk. Three days later they relocated her to the spa. Two days after that she was a maid." He looks at me meaningfully. "We didn't have a lot of fancy stuff like activities directors and surf lessons back then. There weren't many jobs there, and she'd already been dismissed by all of them."

  "Because she's so difficult to work with…" I say.

  He sighs without acknowledging my theory. "Finally they told her she had to go, when as a bartender she stabbed a man through the hand with one of those little pirate swords they use in cocktails."

  I'm really not surprised by this. If she could get away with it, Mary Lou would probably roast Slayer's and Beastmaster's snakes.

  "Our downtown wasn't very large back then." Dan keeps on talking. "We only had about a dozen businesses. And Mary Lou was fired from every single one of them. And that's when I met her."

  I try to picture a thirtysomething Pastor Dan gyrating as Elvis, dazzling the socks off a younger Mary Lou. I'm not really sure how old she is. But then, does Evil ever really age?

  "You gave her a job," I say finally.

  He nods. "I gave her a job."

  A lengthy silence passes between the two of us. I have so many questions, some that might be construed as borderline offensive. But I don't know what to ask.

  "How have you lasted three decades with her?" It had to be asked.

  Dan shrugs. "I don't know. Somehow we have. Until now."

  I think on this. "So what's different? What is going on now that wasn't going on before?" Has her beard grown back lately? Don't judge…you were wondering too.

  "I honestly don't know. Everything was fi…" He stops and looks at me. "Well, everything was normal until two days ago. All of a sudden, she hates me, hates the chapel, and"—he pauses as he looks at me again—"let's face it…she's always hated you. Sorry."

  "I wish I could help," I say. No I don't. My life would be so much easier without that football helmet–haired woman constantly criticizing me.

  Pastor Dan brightens. "Maybe you can! You could go talk to her! At her house?"

  Mary Lou has a house? I always just imagined she lived in a house made of candy and had a sign that invited children in.

  I put my hands up in a defensive position. "I'm not your girl. Really. I shouldn't do it."

  He nods enthusiastically. "Yes! Why didn't I think of it before? She needs a woman to talk to! Of course!"

  I'm supposed to investigate the strip mall with Binny today, and now that sounds like a much better idea. I shake my head vigorously. "This is a terrible idea. I'm the worst person for the job. Doesn't she have any friends?"

  Like an irritable wildebeest or chronically angry yeti?

  Pastor Dan puts both hands on my shoulders. "You can do this, Nani."

  I back away. "No, I can't. She hates me. Like hates me. If she could have me killed, she would."

  "She's not that bad. Give her a chance," Dan says.

  "I kind of have a lot on my plate right now. What with the murders and some health issue with Mom…"

  He stops short. "Maybe I could give Mary Lou a leave of absence and hire your mother! What a great idea!"

  I literally stop breathing as I imagine the chapel decorated with headless gnomes or mannequin butts. I picture Mom draped in snakes and deciding we have a snakey heritage now. Or worse. She could dress up like Elvis too.

  Somehow, I suppress an epic shudder.

  "I'll do it."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I stare at the address on the piece of Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel stationary. I've been sitting in my car for the past half hour, trying to come up with the courage to do this. All of my attempts at an excuse are gone. Juls called as soon as I left the chapel, telling me to take a couple of days off. She said the dancers were worried about me. Aww. That's nice.

  Next, I called Dr. Chang's office to see if there was any news on the additional tests he'd run on Mom. Nope. Not yet.

  It's when I started to dial the number for the police station in an attempt to turn myself in for two murders that I didn't commit, before I realize I might be going a smidge too far.

  Pastor Dan said I could do this. But then, sometimes Pastor Dan forgets to wear underwear beneath his 1950s Elvis supertight short-shorts, so his judgement on the issue is suspect.
>
  With a heavy sigh, I plug Mary Lou's address into Maps and start to drive. A voice barks at me in German through my phone, and I jump, nearly hitting a couple of surfers crossing the parking lot. I pull over and park the car.

  If you're unfamiliar with the language, German isn't exactly the language of love. It's harsh and guttural. Everything you say sounds like you are shouting a command in anger. It's not pretty. So why was the voice on my cell screaming at me in German?

  As I go into Settings to fix it, my thoughts roll back to Mom. Actually, I'm a bit impressed. Up until the moment she did this to my phone, she thought a cell was something invented by Uber. I'm not kidding. Uber.

  A quiet, calm American English voice tells me to leave the parking lot and turn right. Much better. However, it still doesn't solve the problem that I have to go see Mary Lou.

  I could get lucky—she may not be home. The woman probably has hobbies, right? Maybe she's gleefully disemboweling wild boar or practicing the dark arts by pushing pins into a doll that looks like me. The possibilities are endless.

  On the other hand…what if I walk in there and she's sporting a luxurious beard? How's that going to play out? And how do I keep from laughing-slash-screaming? I throw up a little in my mouth.

  Maps tells me I'm only five minutes away. And I'm not in Aloha Lagoon. How long have I been obsessing about this? Long enough to get completely lost. I don't recognize this road in the middle of nowhere. There aren't even any power lines.

  This is not a good place. Even in broad daylight the trees look sinister, and the jungle vines seem to wiggle toward my car to strangle me like the monster plants Nick told me about.

  Wait! There's a mailbox. I pull up and look it over. The box is, well, mauve. With light pink ribbons tied around it. The name Gorman is stenciled on the side in pretty looping letters.

  That's it. I've knowingly wandered into Hell. Maybe I should go back to the German voice. It might give me better directions.

  Pastor Dan's sad face pops into my mind. Ugh. I can't go back. What if he's waiting for me? Waiting to see Mary Lou and me waltz into the chapel, arm in arm, wearing daisy chains we made for each other and singing childhood camp songs?

  I have to do this. With a deep breath, I turn into the lane and follow it into the jungle. It only takes a minute before I pull up to a two-story Victorian house, painted pale pink with white gingerbread detailing everywhere. Oh wow. I was right about the candy house thing.

  There's no point in leaving. Her tiny Smart car is there. And from any one of the enormous windows, Mary Lou has probably already seen me and is lunging for shaving cream and a razor blade to shave off her beard. After a quick shiver, I steel myself and open the car door. And with a strength I never knew existed, I will myself up onto the porch and ring the doorbell.

  The theme song from The Sound of Music blares, and I jump backward, as if Julie Andrews herself had greeted me at the door. None of this seems like Mary Lou. The pink. The pretty. The scary middle of nowhere.

  "What are you doing here?" Mary Lou stands in front of me, shouting in a shrill voice that would make cats dissolve.

  She's dressed like a housewife from the 1950s. The woman is wearing a huge blue bow in her hair that matches a blue dress, gloves, and pumps. Her hair has been melted into a bouffant flip I saw once in a really old magazine.

  "I…" I have to think for a moment to remember why I'm here. "I wanted to see if you're okay."

  Furious eyes narrow when I say this. Apparently, I've declared war on Mary Lou.

  "Pastor Dan," I add hurriedly. "Pastor Dan is worried about you. I volunteered." (Much in the way the soldiers at the Battle of the Somme were "volunteered" at gunpoint to go over the top.) "To check on you."

  At the mention of his name, all the harshness vanishes, and Mary Lou is smiling. Either that, or she's baring her teeth and I'm about to die. But I decided to go with smiling.

  "Come in, then." She turns and walks away, causing the screen door to slam between us.

  I open the door and walk into what may be the cleanest house on Earth. In the universe. The house is so spotless, I fear I can see my breath littering it up. Everything gleams as if it has never been used. The teak floors practically glow, and the walls are bright and clean. And possibly the most bizarre thing—the house is normal.

  Once inside, it was impossible to tell that I was in the pink froufrou house I'd driven up to. I follow Mary Lou to a living room that looks like a spread in a ladies' magazine. The sofa is blindingly white and stuffed, without a single crease.

  The walls are painted a cool pale green, and pretty chiffon curtains float on the breeze. If she asks me to take a look at the oven from the inside, I'm out of here.

  "So." Mary Lou sits on a gorgeous chair covered in detailed needlepoint and indicates that I should sit on the sofa.

  It's so spotless here I'm afraid my clean clothes might get it dirty, but I sit.

  "Pastor Dan is worried about me?" She says it in a wistful, lilting voice I haven't heard her use before.

  I nod. "Yup. I…I am too," I lie.

  She arches her right eyebrow. "How worried is he?"

  Somehow I feel like I'm at a poker table with the world champion. And I'm losing. And she's calling my bluff.

  "Very!" I say more cheerfully than is necessary. "Very worried!"

  She stands so fast that I can't help but flinch. "Would you like some…lemonade and cookies?"

  I'm walking a delicate line here. Should I accept and possibly get poisoned and stuffed into an early grave? Or do I decline and get strangled and stuffed into an early grave?

  "Absolutely!" I say brightly.

  Mary Lou leaves the room, and I slump onto the sofa. Then I worry that I'll damage the couch, so I sit back up again. I can hear the clinking of ice on glass in the kitchen. It doesn't sound like she's milking a blowfish, but how would I know? That's it! Maybe Mary Lou is the killer! Wouldn't that be great? It would solve a lot of problems.

  Stop it. Stop it right now, I tell myself. She's just a woman. A woman who has had trouble fitting in. Who doesn't have any friends outside of her coven. Who struggles with unrequited love from a gay minister.

  I soften. I'm being ridiculous. And mean. If Pastor Dan thinks she's worthy of friendship and a job, I should accept that. Just because she's always mad at me doesn't mean I have to act the same way.

  This house is amazing. And it shows me a completely different side of Mary Lou. She clearly loves this house and takes care of it. And just because she's deluded enough to think Pastor Dan could fall in love with her doesn't mean I have to be cruel. Maybe she and I can start over. I should give it a try. Pastor Dan also took a chance on hiring me when nobody else would.

  Now I feel bad. Everything has been about me in the last few days. Poor me, with the dead man in the resort parking lot, with the crazy mother with a possible split personality, with a possible murder charge for killing a singer with something I never even knew existed.

  I'm going to take a step back and reevaluate Mary Lou. If the two of us can be friends, well, maybe I can solve these murders and my mother will return back to normal.

  "I want a two-carat diamond ring," Mary Lou says as she sets a tray on the coffee table.

  The lemonade is in cut crystal glassware that may be too expensive for me to even touch. Perfectly iced oatmeal cookies sit on a sterling silver plate. The linen napkins that match the color of the room are folded into the shape of a rose.

  "Excuse me?" I reach for a cookie to stuff into my mouth until I can come up with something better.

  The woman sits down in front of me and smooths her skirt. "I want a diamond engagement ring. And a proposal. A romantic one."

  "Wow. I'm really flattered, Mary Lou, but I don't think of you as anything more than a friend."

  Okay—I know she isn't talking about me. But I don't know how to tell her that Dan is never going to ask her to marry him. He's gay. Not a masochist.

  Mary Lou's nostrils fla
re, but she's still smiling-slash-baring her teeth. It's a disturbing combination usually reserved for creepy dolls in horror movies.

  "I'm not talking about you, you idiot," she says evenly. "I'm talking about Dan! I want that man to stop denying what's between us and get on with it! I'm not getting any younger, you know."

  Oh…I know.

  "And I'm running out of childbearing years."

  I really hope there isn't a grimace on my face. Because I can't imagine she's young enough to have kids. In fact, I think her ovaries must've either turned to dust or run screaming from her years ago.

  There's no way I can promise this woman any such thing. Her demands are ridiculous. Why doesn't she know that?

  "And a honeymoon someplace exotic would be nice too," she continues as if I'm mentally taking notes. "Someplace tropical."

  "Uh, you live in someplace tropical." Reality appears to be out of Mary Lou's reach.

  "Well, Tahiti then. Or Laos." She throws up her hands. "Maybe the Philippines."

  I have to admit—those places are tropical. Not my idea of a romantic paradise, but then, I'm from Kansas. What do I know? My people usually go to Kansas City for a honeymoon. Sometimes they go as far as Chicago or Denver—but only for the really big celebrations.

  She's staring at me intently. Uh-oh. Did I miss something?

  "Sorry. I was just daydreaming about Laos…" I say in a very weak attempt to cover.

  "These are my demands. I won't go back to work without all of them being satisfied."

  I am at a complete loss. I can't promise that Dan will do any of those things. Although, it might be worth his while to have a sham marriage if he really wants to keep her happy.

  "I will tell Pastor Dan about your requests." I get to my feet after snagging another cookie from the tray. They really are amazing. She can bake!

  Mary Lou walks me to the door. Just as I'm about to step outside, she puts her hand on my arm and spins me around. I was sooooo close to escaping.

  "I'm not being unreasonable, Nani." She looks tired. Possibly sad—it's really hard to tell. "I just want what's been promised to me a long time ago."

  Pastor Dan promised her these things? The man has been holding out on me.