He hands what looks like at least a couple thousand dollars to Pastor Dan. "Pay for her doctor, will you?" He tips his hat at me, and taking his new wife's arm, they walk out.
"What happened?" Mary Lou shouts as she sits back up. "Did I win? Did I get the flowers?" She doesn't seem to notice that they are in her hand.
I think about telling her she was the only one in the running for the blossoms, but decide to be kind. "You won. Look!"
Mary Lou stares at her hand as if she's never seen it before. She might need more than a thousand dollars if she has brain damage that bad. Then she notices the flowers and screams with delight. Problem is, she doesn't stop screaming.
"Mary Lou!" Pastor Dan helps her up and cuts her off. "The couple's photos, please? Nani's going to take them to their hotel."
Mary Lou carries the bouquet proudly in front of her as she marches off to the office. She must be pretending it's her wedding to Pastor Dan.
"You're screwed," I tell Dan. "She's going to think catching the bridal bouquet is a sign."
Pastor Dan groans. "Great. And I have a date tonight."
I stare at him. "You have a date?" Okay, that might have come off badly. "I mean, great! Who's the lucky guy?"
"You don't know him," Dan says quickly as Mary Lou emerges with the usual envelope and monstrous frame.
"I'm feeling a little light-headed, Dan." She shoves the pictures at me and gives the gay man a moony look. "I think you're going to have to take me to the hospital."
He looks at me hopefully for a moment, and I consider volunteering because he looks so desperate. But he waves me off.
"Of course I will," Dan says finally.
Mary Lou brightens, and I realize this is her first real date with him. Granted, it's to the doctor because of a botanical concussion, but she doesn't look like she cares. Pastor Dan pays me more money than I've made in weeks…combined…and I race out the door with the photos and ukulele before he can change his mind.
The Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel is next to the resort, so in no time I'm at the front desk, dropping off the pictures for the Stones. The night clerk assures me they'll get them.
I just want to get home and take a long, hot bubble bath. A glass of wine is definitely in my future. My stomach rumbles. I guess I need dinner too. I drive back home, wondering what I have in the kitchen. I still haven't been to the grocery store.
With luck, I find a bagel and a jar of peanut butter. Perfect. I toast the bagel while the bath is running and pour a generous glass of red wine.
"Nani?" Mom calls out from the lanai.
I join her with my dinner, trying to be mindful of the bubble bath that's currently running.
"This came for you," she says with a weak grin as she hands me a white envelope. "I'm going to bed."
She's not feeling well. It's the booze, I know. I wouldn't say Mom's a full-blown alcoholic—she can go days without a drink. I even make her mai tais extremely weak. But when she's on a bender, there's nothing anyone can do.
It all started when my father died. That's why I never say anything. Mostly, she just goes to sleep when she drinks. Then there's the few and far between days when I get a call from the police that Mom's standing on the roof, dancing the hula and yelling at the neighbors. Someday, when all this murder stuff is over, I'll have a serious talk with her about it.
Just not tonight. I toss the envelope on the counter, and in minutes I'm sinking into a swirling, soothing realm of bubbles. I keep my mind blank as I add more hot water when it turns tepid. I've been thinking too much these days.
I can feel my body relaxing and my mind going fuzzy. Eventually, I get out, towel off, throw on a nightshirt, and go to bed. I fall asleep thinking of Mr. and Mrs. BamBoobs.
CHAPTER NINE
"Nani! Wake up!" Mom shakes my shoulder violently.
"Stop!" I groan, flinging my arm over my eyes. "It's too early!" What's she doing up anyway?
"There's no mea'ai! No kope!" She shakes my shoulder harder.
"There's no what?" I shrug her off and sit up, wondering if she's had a stroke.
Mom straightens up with a proud smile. "Mea'ai means food! Kope is coffee! I'm learning the native language of our ancestors. They have a class at the community center."
Nope, not a stroke. Instead, my mother is going insane.
"Yeah." I shove the covers aside and get out of bed. "Well, I don't speak Hawaiian, Mom. Sorry about the food—I meant to go to the store. Give me a moment, and I'll go now."
"E 'olu'olu'oe, makemake au i ka makeke!" she says haltingly. She doesn't sound like a native. She sounds like a Kansas transplant whose voice is cutting in and out on a cell call.
"Come again?" I ask, glaring at her a little.
"I just said that I want some mustard!" Mom beams.
"Do you really want mustard?" I ask. Mom's allergic to mustard. She breaks out in huge welts if she even smells it.
Mom rolls her eyes. "Well, of course I don't! Really, Nani! Where is your head?" She storms out of my room, and I sigh heavily, wondering if I can survive this newest obsession.
I grab my phone and see the envelope from last night but decide to wait to open it. I'm hungry too. Maybe I'll pick up some malasadas (a sort of donut) to smooth things over with Mom.
The store is packed this morning, and I realize it's Saturday. As I maneuver through the lanes of overpriced imported food, I remember that I had something on my phone. The list! The list of people Detective Ray is going to interview! Or as I like to think of them—suspects. Okay, so I don't really know if they are suspects, but he's interviewing them for some reason. That could mean they are persons of interest.
I pull my cart aside in the breakfast aisle, and after making sure the coast is clear, I pull up the photo. There are five names. I don't recognize any of them. Who are these people? None of them have the same surnames as Kua or Leilani. Did one of these guys commit murder?
The thought of this is exciting. It's nice to know you're not the only one considered a killer. Maybe the six of us should get together and form a little club or something. I shove the phone back into my bag and continue shopping with a little skip in my step. Things are looking up! The lazy detective will interview these people and find that I'm not guilty.
Oh wait. Detective Ray missed the note at the Overlook. And he didn't interview Reverend Blake—who was a far better witness than the Parkers. He'll probably screw this up too. What am I saying? Of course he'll screw this up. The man is incompetent. My innocence is in the hands of someone with a messy office that should be condemned and who overlooks important clues.
Well, I can't have that, now, can I? Nick and Binny are right. We have to investigate. With the way the police are handling this, I stand a very good chance of going to jail. As I pack the groceries into the trunk of my car, I realize I've made up my mind to follow up on these leads. Because jail would totally suck, and I'm pretty sure they won't let me take a ukulele, considering that's the weapon I allegedly used to kill Kua.
After I get home, donut Mom, unload the groceries, and put them away, I'm going to call Binny and Nick. It's time to get started. The three of us are going to blow this case wide open.
An hour later, we settle on the lanai. It's a gorgeous day. I hardly notice. When you live here, it's like this all the time. We never have inclement weather. Enough rain to keep everything green, no snow—it's very different than back home. In Kansas it could rain for a solid week. And don't even get me started on snow. I don't miss snow.
"So," Nick asks, "how should we tackle this? Where do we start?”
Binny frowns. "Whatever we do, we should get started. After this weekend, I'm out for a few days. My mom just told me she wants me to go with her to visit her sister in Honolulu. Sorry." She looks pretty unhappy. But her family is very close. If family calls, you have to drop everything and go.
"Okay," Nick says slowly, "I'm free this weekend but only evenings next week. We're doing a major overhaul on the south garden at th
e resort."
"I don't know any of these names," Binny says as she studies the list. "There are addresses here, but no phone numbers."
I look at the list. None of them live in or near Aloha Lagoon. Three of the names are from Lihue, and two are from Princeville. At least we could hit one of those towns this weekend.
"Okay," I say, “we should do Princeville today. Maybe we can knock out Lihue tomorrow?"
"Do you know if the police have contacted them yet?" Nick thinks out loud. "I mean, Leilani's murder was just yesterday. If they haven't notified the next of kin…"
I shrug. "No idea. But he told you yesterday, so I'd guess the word is out. Detective Ray said no one had claimed Leilani for a funeral—not that there was a body."
"And it seems that the detective moves at the speed of snail," Nick says. "We might be the first ones to talk to these people."
"How do we know if they're friends of Kua or Leilani?" I ask. "How do we know what to ask them?"
"We’ll wing it," Binny says. I know she's hoping we can do this before she leaves for Oahu.
"Okay. But we should work out some sort of a plan. These people are going to be a little freaked out when three strangers just show up at their door."
Nick studies the list and opens his laptop, plugging the names into Facebook. "These two." He points at the two names from Princeville. "Todd Chay and Pauli Keo, according to their profiles, look like surfers. My guess is they're friends of Kua."
"Let's start with them, then," I say, secretly hoping this will go well. The last thing we need are hostile interviews.
As we drive, I fill my friends in on the wedding the night before.
"BamBoobs? Seriously?" Binny breathes raggedly between giggles. "How did you not lose it?"
"It wasn't easy," I admit. "The whole thing was ridiculous, but I made a lot of money. So it was worth it."
"It's worth it for the story alone," Nick says. "I wish I'd been there."
I shake my head. "You probably wouldn't have been let in. Mob guys are known for their paranoia." I think for a minute. "Fat Mookie was nice though. I liked him."
"I still can't get over it." Tears are running down Binny's cheeks. "Fat Mookie and BamBoobs!"
"I know. I'm still not sure if I dreamed it or not."
Looking out the window at the paradise flying by, I wonder if this whole thing has been a dream. It certainly seems like one. It's a nightmare with the murders, a comedy with the weddings, and a good dream where Nick is concerned.
Binny is telling Nick a story about one of the times she and I went to Princeville. I have a soft spot for this northern town. When I arrived in Kauai, I thought maybe I'd live here. After all, they have some great resorts, and it still has a small-town feel. Unfortunately, no one there was interested in having a ukulele artist on retainer.
For a week, Mom and I knocked about the island until we came at last to Aloha Lagoon. With only one resort and three musicians, I should've fled. But there was something about this place that made me want to stay. That very afternoon I ran into Pastor Dan on the street. I was carrying my ukulele in its case. He stopped to ask me about it and promised me steady work. The next day, Mom and I found the fixer-upper cottage, and the rest is history. Okay, so it's only been a year, but that counts as history.
Binny and I met on the beach at the resort. I was just sitting in the sun, forgetting how strong it was here, and I was getting a nasty sunburn. Of course, I didn't realize this. It was Binny who walked by and noticed I was turning an alarming shade of purple. She struck up a conversation before driving me to the emergency room.
At first I thought she was just being nice. But we'd really hit it off. Binny is a kindergarten teacher and is absolutely brilliant at it. She has summers off, which is why she's free to run around with me right now.
One month into living here, my friend invited me to perform at a school assembly. The kids loved it, which is how I ended up with ten kids for private lessons. I seriously owe her one.
From that time on, Binny adopted me and gave me tours of her island. We've also done two weekends on the Big Island and Oahu. There's still so much more to explore. That's what I love about it here. Each island is dramatically different from all the others. I've been here one year and haven't seen even a fraction of everything. Kansas isn't like this. If you've seen one corner of the flattest state ever, you've pretty much seen the entire state. Nothing is different. Nothing.
Kauai is my favorite…and not just because I now call it home. It's the people. Generous and welcoming to the point they'd help out a complete stranger without batting an eyelash. It's the landscape. Where else could you visit the beach, a huge desert canyon, and a tropical rainforest in one day? I love the sunrise—I love the sunsets—and everything in between. Every day of the rest of my life will be spent in paradise. Who could ask for more?
Unfortunately, I haven't been travelling much lately. Mom and work have kept me home. And when school's in session, Binny can't travel much. I'm not really the type to check things out on my own. I love to hike, but going alone is extremely dangerous here.
Now I have Nick. If things keep going this well, I'll have someone to run around the island with. That would be great.
Why haven't I gotten to know more people? I've kept myself closed off—isolated. That's weird. I wasn't like that before Dad died. But then, I didn't have an alcoholic, borderline insane mother then either. Having people over is out of the question if they don't understand.
Mom is social. She's the queen of the community center. But if I'm totally honest, Vera Woodfield is the first friend she's brought home. She's been isolating herself too.
When I was growing up, my mother was on the PTA, my Girl Scout leader, on the church altar society, and helped Dad out in his business. She was wonderful, outgoing—a social butterfly. My father's death had a huge and damaging impact on our lives.
I lean my forehead against the cool window and close my eyes. I'll have to deal with this at some point. Too bad I don't have siblings to help me. Especially an older sister or brother who could be candid with Mom.
Well, that's an impossible wish. Unless Mom adopts a respectable 30-year-old, that will never happen. I haven't really talked to Binny about this. The tradition of 'ohana means respecting your elders and taking care of them. She'd find my complaints disloyal somehow. I don't want her to think less of me. She knows my mom is a bit strange, but that's all.
Nick, on the other hand, understood without me having to say a word. And while I'd never consider Perseverance Woodfield on the same level of "odd" as Mom, I know that he deals with some of the same issues I do. It's comforting.
"We're here," Nick says as he parks the car on a street.
I look around. The first address, for Todd Chay, is a tiny bungalow across from the beach. The idea that he's a friend of Kua's looks more obvious now.
"Let's get this over with," I say as I open the door and step out into the sunshine. That's the great thing about living here. You think nothing bad could ever happen on a day this beautiful.
The bungalow is a bit worse for the wear, definitely broken in. I like it. It seems homey. Nick, however, is on his guard. With a deep breath, I lead the way to the door and knock.
"Ya?" a sleepy young man answers. Smoke billows through the doorway, and I realize this guy's stoned.
"Is Todd here?" I ask, plastering a sunny smile on my face.
Stoner shakes his head and points at the beach before slamming the door.
"We must look like narcs or something," Binny says.
Nick is already walking across the road to the beach on the other side. I run to catch up.
"How are we going to find him?" I ask.
The beach has only a few people with surfboards on it, but I don't want to be pushy. If this is a locals' beach, they won't appreciate our intrusion.
Fortunately, we have Binny. She's been surfing since she was a kid. She struts ahead confidently, knowing that this is her territo
ry. With flip-flops, cutoff shorts, and a white tank top, she easily blends in. Nick and I fall back a little so she can do her thing.
Staying back far enough so we don't look suspicious, but close enough to run to her aid, Nick takes my hand, and we stroll along the beach, looking like a tourist couple. His hand squeezes mine, and I squeeze back. No one gives us a second glance. And I get to act like Nick's girlfriend—which is a total win.
They do, however, notice Binny. I watch as she casually walks up to a group of guys. In seconds they are laughing and flirting with her. It's amazing how she puts everyone at ease. She tosses her short bob a few times, and it has the anticipated effect. These men are putty in her hands.
"She's a natural," Nick says.
I nod. "She's been around surfers all her life. And she's Hawaiian, which helps."
I wish I had that talent. I make a silent vow that if I get myself out of this, I'm going to try to get to know the people of Aloha Lagoon better. There are so many people my age—especially working at the resort. There's no excuse for me not to make friends. And it's good networking too. Now that two of my competitors are gone, I could probably get work doing the big luaus at the resort.
Wow. I guess I really do look like a suspect when I put it that way.
"Hey, guys," Binny calls out as she walks toward us.
Behind her is a Hawaiian in his late 20s with a surfboard tucked under his arm. He doesn't look very happy. He probably thought he was making time with Binny, or he doesn't like nonlocals on his beach.
"This is Todd Chay." Binny stops in front of us, but Todd stays a few steps behind.
Nick thrusts his hand out. "Aloha, Todd. Nice to meet you. I'm Nick, and this is Nani."
Todd takes his hand and gives it one shake before dropping it. He says nothing.
Binny gives him a blinding smile. "Todd knows Kua. He's agreed to answer a couple of questions."
Todd shifts from one foot to another. His unease is making me nervous. It doesn't appear to affect Nick at all.
"Sorry to hear about your friend, man." Nick nods solemnly. "That's rough."
Ukulele Murder: A Nani Johnson Aloha Lagoon Mystery (Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Book 1) Page 9
