"I hope not!" Binny insists. "I'm worried that Nani will be next. There's a theme here among the murders, and she's the last ukulele performer in Aloha Lagoon."
I can't help but admire my friend. She does such a great job of controlling the conversation. I try to look frightened. Actually, I should be frightened. Whoever it is could come after me next. On the other hand, why would they?
"You'd better be careful," Pauli says. "Doesn't sound like the police are up to the task of protecting you."
He throws some money on the table and stands. "Ready to go, Todd? I've got to get back."
Todd nods and joins him. Binny and I watch them as they exit the bar.
"That was strange," Binny muses as she takes a swig of mimosa. "I didn't get the impression that they were close when we were in Princeville."
Through the window, I see the two men walk around the corner and out of sight. A few moments later, I see a flash of white pass by with Todd at the wheel.
I shrug. "Who knows with guys? I'm not even sure what's going on with Nick and me."
Binny looks at me. "I know you like him, but I still think you should be careful until you know more about him."
Again with the killer as bad boyfriend material thing?
"You don't honestly think he's the killer, do you?"
She shrugs. "I don't know. I can't think of a connection between him and the victims. But he's awfully familiar with you. Seems a little too soon."
"Great. I finally meet someone who's hot, funny, and likes me, and he might be framing me for murder."
Binny laughs. "You don't believe that. I'm not sure I do either. I just want you to be careful."
"Fine." I stand and add a few dollars to the tip. "We should go. I've got a lesson this afternoon."
We're on the road five minutes before I say something. "At least we know more about Elizabeth, Gina, and Todd and about their relationships with Leilani."
"Do you still think the roommates did it?" Binny asks. "According to Todd, they didn't like her as much as they let on."
I nod. "Which would mean their behavior at the funeral was all an act. That definitely moves them up, in my estimation."
"But it doesn't answer why Kua or Alohalani was killed. Or why someone broke into his office."
"Maybe the break-ins aren't related. Maybe they killed Kua and Alohalani just to frame me. Leilani probably let them know how much she hated me."
"That's true. I've heard of that happening before. The murderer kills several people, but there's only one truly targeted victim. The other bodies are to throw the investigation off."
"And the break-in could just be a burglary. Alohalani had very expensive music and instruments."
"I wish I'd been with you guys that night," Binny says.
I laugh. "Oh no you don't. You are way too nice to break into someone's office or home. You would've talked us out of it."
"Maybe." She looks off into the distance. "But I would've done surveillance or been the lookout. That's not illegal."
"We're no closer to finding out who did this."
"That's not true! You know more than Detective Ray. You have clues in the Alohalani case, and you know the real story about the relationships Leilani had."
I shake my head. "But we know nothing about Kua's murder. Nothing at all. I thought maybe the Sea Dogs were behind it, but after the funeral yesterday, I'm not so sure."
We drive on in silence for a few minutes before I say something.
"What do you think about that weird lady in black who was at both funerals?"
Binny waves it off. "It's probably just some freak. There are enough crazy people on this island that when one of them appears, I don't think anything of it."
I'm not so sure, but I don't say this. Binny's right—Hawaii has some very colorful characters. At least, more than I ever knew on the mainland. But I always chalked it up to the weather here. People from all over the world move here for the sunshine and temperatures. It makes sense that there'd be some eccentrics too.
For all we know, the lady in black could even be a man. A transvestite even. But could whoever it is be the killer? I'd never seen anyone dressed like that in Aloha Lagoon before. But then, these were my first funerals here. It could be a crackpot who goes to all local funerals this way.
Binny and I say good-bye at my doorstep, and I'm not home five minutes before my lesson arrives. Johnny Milton is one of my favorite students. At five years old, he's mastered the chords and picked up fingerstyle like a pro. Teaching him is way too easy, and I feel a little guilty taking his parents’ money. I lead him out onto the lanai for the lesson. It's too nice outside to stay in.
The child works through his scales flawlessly. His freckled face grimacing in concentration. Most of my students are just taking lessons for something to do. Johnny actually loves the instrument and wants to be here. He's so good, he'll probably take my place before he hits puberty.
"Miss Johnson?" Johnny asks in the middle of the lesson. "Did you kill those people?
"What? Of course not! Where did you hear that?"
I'm not totally surprised. Binny wasn't kidding when she told the guys at the bar this is a small town and the gossip flows like beer after an AA meeting. However, hearing it from one of my kids is a bit of a shock.
He shrugs. "My friends at school were talking about it. But Mom and Dad say it's ridiculous."
"That's right," I say, a little relieved. "I didn't kill anyone. Thank your parents for believing in me."
We finish our lesson, and as I see him to the door, I'm surprised to see Twila Grant's mother on the front lanai. Johnny runs to his mother's car and leaves.
"Mrs. Grant?" I ask.
Wringing her hands, the woman looks even more jumpy than normal. And she's here alone. Why?
"I just want you to know…I don't think you killed those musicians," she says.
"Uh, thanks?" This isn't good.
"But my husband thinks we should cancel Twila's lessons…at least until you're acquitted."
I'm pretty sure my jaw is resting on the tops of my feet. This was something I hadn't expected. It never occurred to me that my students' parents would suspect me.
"Oh," I say quietly. "That's okay, Mrs. Grant. I didn't do it, but if you feel better waiting until this all blows over, that's fine with me."
The woman gives me a watery smile before running back to her car and speeding away. I stand there staring after her for a few minutes. Did that really just happen?
What could possibly be next?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"So, let me get this straight…" Mom asks after she comes home. "Twila's mom is cancelling her lessons because they're worried you might be a murderer?"
I nod. "Not only Twila but half my students."
I got four more phone calls that afternoon—all cancellations.
"Huh," Mom says.
She doesn't say that it's ridiculous or even that these parents are wrong. She just says huh.
"And that letter," Mom asks. "It said 'back off, or you're next'?"
"Yup."
"Huh," she says again.
"Mom, you could at least act like you think I'm innocent," I protest.
"Oh, for crying out loud, Nani! I don't think you killed anyone. I just think you need to release a public statement saying you didn't."
"Seriously? Like a press release? You think I need to do that?"
Mom nods. "Yes. To the local newspaper."
"Mom, that rag only comes out a couple days a week and consists mostly of ads. I hardly think I need to contact them and plead my innocence."
"Look, kiddo. I know you're innocent. But some of my fellow mahjong partners at the senior center think you're guilty. I could lose my status there."
"Status? As what?" The weirdest alcoholic ever?
"Just think about it." She ignores my question.
"It's not going to happen, Mom." What else does she want me to do? Make a video for YouTube?
"Whatever." Mom dismisses me.
She pours a mai tai and heads into the living room to watch TV. I walk into my bedroom to find the giant tiki statue leering at me. That means she's getting ready to decorate the living room again. I'm too exhausted to go find out what we have in there now.
I'm losing students. I love my students. Would they even come back after this is all over? And would the women's correctional facility let the kids come to jail for lessons? I doubt it.
On the other hand, I've now got a gig this weekend playing a luau at the resort, and Ms. Kekoa said there'd be more to come. And Pastor Dan hasn't dismissed me. This is just a small setback. I am, however, considering calling Detective Ray and insisting he get on with the investigation.
I reach into my dresser and look at the anonymous typed note for maybe the one thousandth time tonight. Who wrote this? Was it the murderer or someone who just wants to spook me? If so, they are doing a good job. I haven't left the house since Johnny's lesson.
I pour a glass of iced tea, grab a uke, and step out onto the lanai. Dusk has settled, and a hush falls around me. That's when I realize this is the first time I've had to myself in days. I settle on the wicker love seat and stare out into the darkness.
I'm a little surprised I haven't heard from Nick. Either he's working late or he's coming to his senses and has decided it's not a good idea for an important pillar of the community to date that community's resident multi-murderer.
It doesn't really matter. Being alone is kind of nice. Soothing really. I pick up my little travel uke and start plucking at the strings. I'd read once that Sherlock Holmes plucked at his violin when he was deep in thought. It's an interesting comparison. Well, not because I'm as smart as Sherlock Holmes—that much is obvious.
The music eases my mind a little, and I close my eyes, allowing my fingers to improvise on the strings. I don't really consider my travel uke to be one of my performance instruments. I'd never play it in concert. But it's light enough to mess around with and small enough (I know, like a tiny instrument needs a smaller version) to carry with me.
I start playing chords now—C, then A, then F, then G, over and over. This is my favorite combination—it begins low and ends high. I play without thinking, moving between strumming and fingerstyle. As I do, the facts of the case stack up in my head.
Here's what I know…
Kua was murdered on the beach with something made of kauwila wood. My kauwila uke is missing. The main suspects we've even considered are a surfing gang named the Sea Dogs. They are dangerous. And Mr. Lugosi from the Blue Hawaii wedding was interested in them. Mrs. Lugosi said she wanted to learn to surf. Both of them lied to me about where the other one was. I'm not sure if the couple's bizarre behavior is even related to Kua's death, but I leave it there. Detective Ray interviewed Leilani—who implies that she and I were close—even though we weren't. During his murder, I was at home, alone. No alibi. His funeral is well attended, and the Sea Dogs are there. So are Todd Chay and the lady in black.
Leilani was murdered at the Overlook in the morning of the next day. I was at home then also, with no alibi. She was playing a wedding, and someone dressed as me ran out and pushed her over the cliff onto the rocks below. The police hadn't found a body but did find enough blood to indicate she couldn't have survived. There was a huge casket at her funeral, so they must've found her remains. Leilani had two roommates who claim to adore her, but according to Todd, really didn't get along with her. She was romantically involved with Todd Chay—who was friends with Kua. Someone (besides us) broke into her home—right after we did. We found pictures of Kua surfing and a photo of me in my backyard. Her funeral is sad, attended only by a few people, including Pauli and Todd.
Alohalani was murdered within several feet of me. My alibi is terrible in this case, because I was the only one with him after he was stabbed. I have very little to go on. I haven't interviewed anyone who knew him. He'd intimated to me that he had notes that implicated the real murderer. Nick and I searched his office and found a photo of the Overlook with the Hawaiian word for deceiver written on it.
Part of me wants to give up. This is too overwhelming. We've only really looked into Leilani's murder. We haven't done much with Kua's or Alohalani's investigations. The list of people on Ray's desk had people who knew Kua and Leilani. The person with the least number of people who cared about her is the one we've investigated the most.
If we wanted to investigate Kua's or Alohalani's murders, we'd have to invest more time than I want to. I'm tired. Exhausted. I don't want to do this anymore.
On the other hand, the police are doing little to nothing. And I'm losing students—half of them already—to the suspicion that seems to be attached to me like a shadow. If I don't look into this, who will? Detective Ray is taking his time. Do I have the luxury of waiting for him to follow through?
I feel like screaming, but that would alarm the neighbors and probably bring Mom running. I don't need any more attention on me. Instead, I just sit there, in the dark, wondering what to do next. The picture Leilani had of me pops into my head, and I wonder if someone is watching me right now. There's something odd about that photo, but I can't put my finger on it. I'm just sitting on my lanai outside, playing my ukulele…
My cell vibrates, and I look at it, grateful for the distraction. It's from Pastor Dan. Can you come by right now? I'd like to discuss something with you.
Great. He probably wants to fire me too. This day just gets better and better. I go inside and see Mom asleep on the couch. No point in waking her. I slip quietly out the front door, trying to ignore the many jiggling hula-girl statues Mom has placed around the living room. Just think—when I'm gone, she'll be free to decorate the whole house like this.
I drive to the chapel, pull into the parking lot and turn off the engine. That's odd. I don't see Pastor Dan's car. But the lights are on inside. Maybe he walked or hitched a ride or something like that. I might as well get this over with. If I'm going to lose this job, I'd rather deal with it now. Putting it off until later would just add to the torture.
"Hello?" I call out as I walk into the lobby.
It's eerily silent. The chapel is completely empty. He must be in the back office.
"Dan? Mary Lou?" I shout as I walk into the back room.
But there's no one here either. Huh. Did he step outside to do something? That might be it. The man is always puttering with stuff. He isn't very handy, but he's never let that hold him back. Once, he bought a huge Elvis head on eBay and tried to attach it to the front of the chapel. It fell off the next day, breaking his foot, but that didn't stop him. I stick my head outside and look, but he's not there either.
What's going on? Why would Dan text me to meet him when he isn't here? Maybe he's losing it. Granted, he's not that old, but early onset Alzheimer's can happen. Could that be it? The door was unlocked, and the lights are on, so he must be here somewhere.
"Dan? Dan Presley?" I call out.
There's no answer.
I walk through the facility one more time, but still don't find Pastor Dan. All right. He must've just stepped out for a moment. Clearly he's expecting me, so I'll wait. I sit in a pew near the back.
It really is a lovely chapel, especially now that BamBoobs' endless pink decorations are gone. It's back to its simplest form, which is my favorite. I really do love it here. Dan's always saying he's going to leave it to me when he dies.
I indulge in a little fantasy and allow myself to think about what I'd really do with this place if it were mine. First thing I'd do is fire Mary Lou. That woman is insane. She wouldn't help me unless it was into my grave. No, she'd be the first change I'd make.
Second, I'd get rid of the tacky blue plastic frames. I'd need a photographer, but I'm sure I could find someone who'd help me part time. The resort has used photographers before. I could check with them, now that I'm on the payroll. I still feel a little rush every time I think that.
Third, I'd have to decide whether or not
to keep the Elvis theme. The name Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel isn't bad. It's kind of sweet actually. But without Pastor Dan and his impersonations of the King, it wouldn't be the same. Yeah, I'd definitely lose the theme but keep the name. Maybe Mary Lou is a little right in thinking there should be some blue in the décor. I'll never tell her that though.
Ouch!
Something has bitten me on the back of my neck. Stupid mosquitos. What really sucks is that mosquitos didn't exist here until the first missionaries brought them on their ships. Now we battle mosquitos all year long, when this island would truly be an epic paradise without them.
I rub the back of my neck, thinking that Pastor Dan had better get here soon. I'm tired. Actually, the day's depressing activities have taken more out of me than I thought. It's probably a good thing Nick is AWOL. I'd pass out on him the minute he arrived.
Whoa. When did the room start bobbing around like the Elvis bobblehead in Dan's office? My head is throbbing too. Am I having a stroke? The room begins to spin violently before going blurry, then black altogether.
It's so quiet. I feel like I should open my eyes, but my eyelids are so very heavy. Sensations slowly come to me. I'm lying on something hard—so clearly I'm not in my bed. My fingers curl around something I don't recognize at first. I think maybe I should open my eyes so I can get back in bed. Memory comes back to my fingertips, and I realize I'm holding a ukulele. I must've fainted out on the lanai or something.
It hurts to open my eyes, but I do it anyway. Bad idea—my vision is flooded with bright light. Am I dead? Is this heaven? Wait…why do I even think that? And it couldn't be heaven, because I'm pretty sure it wouldn't hurt to be there. It'd be more like clouds or something.
I force myself up onto my elbows. Oh. I'm at the Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel. Something vague dances just out of reach in my mind. That's right. I came here for a reason. I close my eyes to think. Not that it helps. Oh right. Pastor Dan texted me. He said he needed to meet with me.
Carefully, I get to my feet. My legs feel like wet pasta. And I'm still holding the uke. I'd better get a grip. I'm in the chapel but halfway up the aisle. I remember sitting in the pews. That's right—I was waiting for Dan.
Ukulele Murder: A Nani Johnson Aloha Lagoon Mystery (Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Book 1) Page 18
