Ukulele Murder: A Nani Johnson Aloha Lagoon Mystery (Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Book 1)

by Leslie Langtry

  "I'm sorry," the man says sheepishly. "I should've phrased that better. It's not your mother." Now I know things are bad with Mom—when the first thing a detective tells me is she's not the reason he's here.

  I breathe a sigh of relief. "What is it, then, Detective Kahoalani?"

  "Please, call me Ray. Everyone does." He pauses. "One of your colleagues, a Mr. Kahelemeakua Lui, or Kua, was murdered at the music festival."

  "Kua was murdered?" I gasp. "I just saw him! Like, half an hour ago!"

  The detective writes something in a notebook. "So it's true that you were the last person to see him alive?"

  Uh-oh. "I don't think I was the last person to see him alive. I just passed him in the parking lot." A little shiver went through me. Was I really the last person to see Kua before he was murdered?

  "Wait," I say. "What do you mean 'it's true'? Did someone tell you that?"

  The detective looks at his notes. "A Miss Leilani O'Flanagan said you'd fought with him and followed him out the door when he left."

  I shake my head. "That's wrong. I was leaving and just spotted him in the parking lot. I went straight to my car."

  Leilani—what a stark-raving loon! I know she is mean, but to imply that I might've killed Kua? That is a serious reach. Besides, Kua was a big dude. And the last time I'd seen him, he'd been a huge, angry dude. Who could've murdered him? And why didn't the killer murder Leilani instead?

  Ray Kahoalani writes something in his notebook. "No one else at the concert remembers seeing him leave."

  I think back. I was the only one heading to my car. I'd assumed the rest of the folks were socializing. Kua and I were the only ones in the parking lot before he walked out onto the beach.

  "How was he murdered?" I shiver again. It's horrible to think that someone I just saw was now dead.

  Detective Ray says nothing. His eyes are on mine, sizing me up. "We found him on the beach. He was alone. Bludgeoned."

  I stifle a gasp. "I barely knew him. And I certainly didn't kill him."

  "We were led to believe that you were colleagues." He looks through a notebook. "Miss O'Flanagan said so. In fact, she said you two were close friends. She also said you had a nasty argument at the concert."

  Of course that psycho would pin this on me. It's ridiculous, really. I shake my head, trying not to laugh. Kua would hate hearing that we were close.

  "That's not true at all. I'd seen him perform a few times. I only spoke to him once or twice. I don't know anything about him."

  Except that earlier I wished he was dead—but I decide that it's in my best interest not to mention that.

  "Can you describe what happened when you left?" he asks.

  "Seriously? I'm a suspect?" My concern starts to turn to anger.

  "Just answer the question please." Detective Ray takes another drink of tea but keeps his eyes trained on my face.

  I sigh. "I just walked out to my car, got in, and drove here."

  "So no one can confirm what time you got home?" He frowns.

  "No, I guess not." My stomach drops to my ankles. I have no alibi. But then, I hardly have any motive. I mean, wishing your competition was dead isn't a thing. Is it?

  The detective finishes his tea and sets it on the table. "Thank you for your time and for the tea." He hands me a card. "Please call me if you have any thoughts. You aren't planning on leaving the area anytime soon, are you?"

  Well, I am now…

  "No," is all I say as I follow him to the door.

  "I'll be in touch then, Miss Johnson." Detective Ray gives me a nod and leaves.

  I close the door behind him and slump against it. I didn't kill anyone.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "Who was that, Nani?" Mom comes up from behind and startles me.

  "Um, no one," I tell her quickly. To be perfectly honest, I'm still trying to wrap my head around Kua's murder and being told I might be a suspect in that murder.

  "All right," Mom says as she waves me off, indicating she has no further interest in our conversation. "Don't forget we have company coming for dinner tonight at eight."

  My mouth drops open. "What? I didn't know anything about a dinner! Who's coming?"

  "A new friend of mine," Mom says, ignoring the fact that I'm caught by surprise. "Perseverance Woodfield and her son, Nick. Try to dress up a little. You look like you're going to work in the garden."

  "It's almost seven thirty now, Mom." I start to panic. "Did you make dinner already?"

  I know the answer to that before she answers. The answer is no. It's always no. I do all the cooking. And it's a good thing too. But a little guilt trip never hurts.

  She shakes her head, oblivious to my attempt. "Don't be ridiculous, Nani! I told Perseverance that you were an excellent cook."

  Uh-oh. This woman is coming over with her son. And Mom told her I'm great in the kitchen. This is a setup.

  I throw my hands up in exasperation. "There's no food in the house! I was going to go shopping tomorrow!"

  Mom pats me on the shoulder. "You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out." She starts humming and wanders back into the yard.

  I'm on my own. Guests are coming over in an hour. I'm underdressed, and even if I had all the ingredients, I still couldn't pull off dinner in that short amount of time. My mind races as I run into the bedroom and throw on a slightly nicer black T-shirt and white capris. It takes me a few minutes to find my black ballet flats and comb my long, straight hair into a ponytail. This will have to do.

  Now I have very little time until the guests arrive. I grab my cell and dial up the Loco Moco Café at the resort and order dinner for four. As I race over there to pick up my order, I debate whether to admit I ordered dinner or pretend I made it myself. Somewhere along the line, I decide to be honest about the whole thing. After the bar mitzvah and visit by the police, I just don't have it in me to lie right now.

  It's not worth getting angry at Mom. She's done this to me so often that I realized a long time ago she doesn't listen. The only thing to do is just get through it. None of the boys or men Mom has ever set me up with have turned into anything worth bragging about. With the exception of my father, she has terrible taste in men.

  Woodfield. I've heard that name before. But where? My brain reaches for the information, but it's eluding me. I guess I'll figure it out when I meet Perseverance and her son…what was his name? Scott? Nick? Nick. That's it, right?

  Somehow, in spite of all these hurdles my mother has thrown at me, I manage to get the table set and the food plated just before the doorbell rings.

  "I'll get it!" Mom sails through the room and out into the hallway.

  Fine by me. I'm in no hurry to see what kind of idiot my mother is fixing me up with. I try not to flinch as I throw the restaurant's packaging in the garbage. The last time she tried matchmaking, the guy was the nephew of one of her mahjong friends, Mabel Percy.

  Ned Percy had turned out to be a scrawny little jerk who thought he was God's gift to women. An insurance salesman, Ned not only bragged about himself incessantly (which is fine unless your only claim to fame is collecting Star Wars memorabilia), but he also tried to sell us life insurance policies. And he asked me why I played a toy for an instrument. The man barely made it out of the house alive.

  "She's in here!" I hear Mom say.

  So it really is a setup. I guess I'd hoped against hope on that one. Oh well. There's nothing to be done but get through the evening as quickly as possible with as little humiliation as I can manage.

  "Nani!" Mom says as she leads two people into the kitchen. "This is my new friend, Perseverance Woodfield, and her son, Nick."

  I wipe my hands on a dishtowel and reach for the woman's hand. "Nice to meet you both. Welcome to our home."

  "She's charming!" Perseverance exclaims. Definitely a setup.

  The woman is in her 60s with dark-brown hair peppered with silver. Tall and proud, she smiles warmly as she shakes my hand. I like her already. The man with her is, to my sho
ck, very attractive. Brown hair and eyes with a trim beard and mustache, Nick Woodfield isn't bad at all. At least the view during dinner will be pleasant.

  "Nani made dinner for you," Mom says, and my heart sinks. "I told you she was a wonderful cook."

  I guess I won't be confessing that this came from the Loco Moco Café.

  Perseverance smiles and elbows her son. "It's always good to marry a great cook, Nick."

  Ugh. I feel sorry for Nick Woodfield. At least there we have something in common.

  "It smells great," Nick says with a smile as he shakes my hand. He winks. And it's utterly adorable. Okay, so he's cute and charming. That's not so bad.

  "Thanks," I say, hating to take the credit for the Loco Moco. "What can I get everyone to drink?"

  "And a wonderful hostess too!" Perseverance nods to Mom.

  Everyone wants wine, so I pull a bottle of chardonnay from the fridge. Nick offers to open it, and I let him. As I grab the glasses, I try to give him a surreptitious once-over. Definitely gorgeous. If Mom doesn't blow it, maybe I could squeeze at least one decent date out of her exhausting habit of fixing me up.

  As we sit down to dinner and begin passing the food around, I think things might be looking up a little for me. When Nick winks at me again, I know it is. Why is it so charming when men wink? I don't know, but it has always worked on me. I wonder if Mom told him that.

  "So I said…" Mom has been talking, and I didn't realize it. "How is it your family has been here for so many generations but your name is Perseverance instead of a Hawaiian name?"

  "Please call me Vera," Nick's mother insists. "I can't stand my name. It comes from my ancestor who came over here in the 1800s. I guess the Puritans gave their children names like this in hopes they'd develop the same qualities."

  "I like Vera," I say with a smile as something tugs on the edge of my memory. Woodfield. How do I know that name? "That's why I go by Nani. Shorter names are easier."

  Vera nods as she takes a second helping of yummy pork. "So much easier." She holds out her glass, and I fill it with more wine. "Haliaka tells me you're a musician. And you went to Julliard. That's impressive, right, Nick?"

  "Please!" Mom begs dramatically. "Call me Hali. Everyone does." I can tell, though, that she's thrilled Vera used her fake Hawaiian name.

  Um…no one does. I've never heard her use that nickname before. In fact, I cringe whenever someone is deceived into using my mother's so-called Hawaiian name. But there's nothing I can do but play along.

  "That is impressive," Nick says as his eyes linger on mine. "What do you play?"

  "She's a ukulele virtuoso!" Mom jumps in before I can speak. "Just like Jake Shimbakoko."

  "It's Shimabukuro, Mom," I correct gently.

  "My Nicky has a PhD in Botany!" Vera boasts. "He works at the resort. Head of landscaping." She shakes her head. "He should be helping plant crops for starving people in Africa, but no…he wanted to come home."

  Nick rolls his eyes, and I stifle a giggle. It's nice to know someone else has mother problems. He sees me and winks again. I'm in danger of really liking this guy.

  "I love it here, Mom," Nick says. "I wouldn't live anywhere else."

  Vera points her fork at him. "He had offers from the Department of Natural Resources and the University of Hawaii, but he turned them down to work here." I couldn't tell if she was disappointed or proud. "At least you could work for Limahuli Garden or Allerton Garden instead of the resort."

  Definitely disappointed.

  Then Mom starts in (I've heard it so often, I could lip sync what she's about to say). "Nani is the same way, Vera! She should be doing concerts and the big luaus and festivals instead of bar mitzvahs and weddings at the Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel!"

  Like I have any choice in the matter. I decide not to argue in front of our guests. Mom wouldn't hear it anyway.

  "That's enough, Mother," Nick says with a smile. "I like working at the resort. I'm in charge there. I wouldn't be at one of the botanical gardens. And I'd have to kowtow to their standards. The resort lets me do whatever I want."

  I like him even more. He's stuck in the same situation I am with a crazy mom.

  "This dinner is excellent, really, Nani." Vera grins, forgetting the dispute completely.

  She's a good match for my mother. Maybe they were separated at birth. I'd better not tell her that. She'd probably make Vera submit to a DNA test in hopes that they really were.

  I start to confess, but Mom cuts me off. "She gets her cooking skills from me."

  This time I roll my eyes. Harriet Jones Johnson can't even boil water. I had to teach her how when I was 12. If she had her way, we'd live on takeout. My father did most of the cooking. And I am very good in the kitchen. He taught me everything he knew.

  For the most part, the rest of dinner goes smoothly, considering the chaos that preceded it. Nick even helps me carry the dishes to the kitchen. He opens the dishwasher and begins loading. Wow. This guy may actually be out of my league.

  I watch as Mom leads Vera out to the garden. The hibiscus bushes are in full bloom as the slowly dimming sky casts the bright-pink blossoms in a lavender wash. This is my favorite time of day, and the garden is my favorite place to be. I'm a little nervous that Nick won't like it. I didn't really follow any plan—just used what was already there and threw in what I liked. For all I know, I could've committed a botanical crime or something.

  These thoughts surprise me. I genuinely liked Nick. That has never happened before with someone Mom's set me up with. Either she got this one bizarrely right or Nick's putting on an act and is secretly an evil villain or worse…a collector of Star Wars memorabilia and personal friend of Ned Percy.

  "Sorry about my mom." Nick's voice brings me back to cleaning up. "I'm sure you noticed that this was a fix-up."

  I nod. "Sorry about my mother too. She means well, but I do have a confession to make."

  Nick's right eyebrow shoots up, and it makes him even more attractive. "Oh? Let me guess—you found out we were coming just before we arrived?"

  I laugh. "How did you know? Are you some kind of psychic botanist? Because that would be very cool."

  He smiles. "That's when I found out. The moment I got off work, Mom handed me a towel and told me to take a shower because we were going to dinner."

  "Me too…except for the shower part." I blush, imagining him in nothing but a towel. "But my confession is different. I didn't make this dinner."

  "Loco Moco Café," Nick says as he nods. "I knew it had to be their laulau pork. It's the best on the island."

  "I really can cook," I insist. "I had no time. I'd just walked in the door from the Horowitz bar mitzvah and then the music festival at the resort, and she said dinner would be in an hour. I hope you don't mind."

  Nick shakes his head. "It's my favorite thing they make." He shoves the last dish into the rack and, after pouring a liberal amount of soap, closes the door and turns the dishwasher on. It's a very, very sexy thing for a man to do. If he takes out the trash, I'll have to propose.

  "Then it worked out," I say.

  "Did you say Horowitz Bar Mitzvah?" Nick asks. "From Trenton, New Jersey, right?"

  I stare at him. "You really are a psychic botanist!"

  "No." He laughs. "They're staying at the resort. Mrs. Horowitz has been picking flowers for her hair all week, even though I asked her not to. The hotel provides leis and blossoms for the guests, but she said she wanted the freshest ones."

  "I can totally see her doing that. That's awful."

  "Oh, it is awful. You'd be surprised how many people think that's okay." Nick wipes his hands on the dishtowel. "The worst is the mainlanders who pick rare orchids."

  I flinch at the word "mainlanders." I hate being reminded that I'm an outsider. It's not his fault. It's not anyone's fault but the three other uke players. They're the only ones who make me feel this way.

  Nick sees my response. "I don't mean that in a negative way," he apologizes. "Really, I don't h
ave any prejudices about malihini."

  I sigh. "Well, that's good to know. I get enough of that from the Terrible Trio."

  He looks questioningly at me, and I tell him about Alohalani, Kua, and Leilani. And then I remember that Kua was murdered, and I'm a person of interest.

  Nick frowns as he studies my face. "What is it?" He really looks concerned. About me. A woman he just met. It seems like a good sign.

  I think for a moment before explaining. The news will be in the paper anyway. Besides, I don't have any special information, and that detective didn't tell me to keep quiet. I fill him in on the whole Kua mess. And like an idiot, I mention that I am a suspect.

  "Wow. I've never been attracted to a potential murderer before." He grins.

  Attracted? Now that's interesting…

  "I know that detective," Nick continues. "He's all right but a little slow. I doubt he'll find any evidence implicating you. Especially since I know you didn't do it."

  I laugh, feeling a sense of relief. This cute guy doesn't mind that I didn't cook dinner, and he doesn't think I murdered anyone. Nick Woodfield is definitely a person of interest in my book.

  "How do you know I didn't do it?" I tease. "You just met me."

  He looks very seriously into my eyes. "Because I killed the ukulele player."

  My heart stops for a split second before he starts laughing. Of course he didn't do it. What was I thinking?

  "I'm so sorry," Nick apologizes. "That was a very bad joke. I barely know those people you described. In fact, you're the first ukulele player I've ever really talked to"

  I take the dish towel from him and whip him with it. "Not many botanist musicians, eh?"

  Nick shakes his head. "Nope. You're the first performer I've ever hung out with."

  And from the way things are going, I kind of hope I'll be his last.

  We join our mothers on the lanai. I inhale the hibiscus fragrance and look up at the stars. Unlike the mainland or even Honolulu, there aren't many city lights out here. As a result, the evening sky and its brilliant stars are in sharp focus.

  Nick starts walking around the perimeter of the garden, and I join him. He inspects every plant in the yard, taking his time as he goes. I try not to stare at his body. It's a good body. A very good body.