Three to Get Lei'd

by Jill Marie Landis

  “Please.” Lillian blinked back the tears magnified by her rhinestone-studded glasses. Sunlight streamed through the window behind her, backlighting her pink-tinted bouffant hairdo that was vintage sixties. Joe focused a tight camera shot on her.

  Lillian’s voice trembled. “Please, just don’t argue anymore. Don’t forget that this is the land of aloha, where we all love one another so much.” She spread her plump arms wide, as if to encompass the whole island and enfold it with love.

  Kiki was afraid Lil was about to burst into song and belt out something like the “Hallelujah Chorus.” She started to tell Lillian to can the “Land of Aloha” speech when she caught a glimpse of the huge camera riding Joe’s shoulder, remembered they were being filmed and was reminded of her twenty million viewers.

  This whole affair, the murder, Kimo’s arrest, the trial—if it came to that—would be televised. She not only had Kiki’s Kreative Events, her own party planning business to run, but a growing fan base to think about. She couldn’t let business suffer just because she had lost control and came off looking like a complete shrew.

  Besides, no one knew how to wield power behind the scenes like she did. Staring at Marilyn’s frantic, plastic-enhanced expression, Kiki knew she herself was holding all the cards.

  So she pasted on a wide, fake smile and managed to appear remorseful at the same time. In a sugary sweet tone she said, “You’re right, Lillian. This is the land of aloha. We won’t hold a fundraiser on Saturday and chance ruining the day for you, Marilyn.” She raised her chin a notch in defiance and toasted Marilyn with the nearly empty wineglass. “If you let us dance at the rehearsal dinner Friday night.”

  8

  Gimme a Head with Hair

  Before Marilyn answered, she mugged for the camera, feigning an over exaggerated look of shock.

  “You can’t be serious. I won’t allow it.”

  “You don’t have a choice.” Kiki flung her head back and wagged her finger in Marilyn’s face to make sure Joe focused in on her and not Marilyn.

  Suddenly, the assistant producer’s cell went off.

  “Freeze,” Peggy directed. “Please don’t say another thing. It’s Randy.”

  The command caught Kiki with her mouth open. She snapped it shut and glowered at Marilyn while the young PA turned around and spoke to her boss in hushed tones. When Peggy finally snapped off the phone, her expression was grave.

  “We’ve been ordered back to the hotel. We’ve got to pack and check out of the St. Lexus and be on the nine p.m. plane to L.A. Randy’s going crazy. He said the network pulled the plug on the show. They’re afraid we might all be in danger and want the whole crew out of here.”

  “Danger?” Kiki snorted. “What about us? We live here.”

  “You want reality?” Pat took a step toward Joe. “This is reality, buster, but I guess you panty wipes can’t take it. Y’all Hollywood people are a bunch of wussies.”

  “You mean it’s over? Trouble in Paradise is pau?” The color drained from Marilyn’s already pale face, leaving behind two bright spots of blush high on her cheekbones.

  The Maidens all held their collective breath.

  Peggy cleared her throat. “I’m not in a position to comment right now.”

  Joe Piscoli lowered the camera. Right on cue, with a set of headphones still dangling around his neck, the technician from the production van parked outside ran into the bar.

  “Did you hear?” he asked the others. “We’re outta here. Pack up, and let’s go.”

  “You shouldn’t look so ecstatic,” Kiki snapped at Em. “Not when we’re all so bummed.”

  Em kept right on smiling as she turned to Sophie. “Run over and tell Uncle Louie what’s up. I’ll bartend if anyone wanders in.”

  Kiki motioned Pat closer.

  “Announce that the meeting is adjourned and have the Maidens reconvene at my house in an hour. I’m holding a private rehearsal for Louie’s rehearsal dinner show.”

  No way did she want Marilyn interfering or making any snide comments. Besides, with the television crew leaving, there was really no reason not to move the practice.

  Pat tapped her pen against her clipboard.

  “Y’all gotta get in your cars and go to Kiki’s. No lollygagging.”

  “Kiki’s house? We have to drive all the way out there? It’s nearly at the end of the road,” Lillian whined. “Why can’t we practice here?”

  “Because Kiki says we’re practicing at her place.” Pat eyeballed Lil. “What part of that don’t you understand, Miss Lillian?”

  Lillian sniffed and patted her pink bouffant. “Well, I suppose I could drive all the way out there. I’ll have to call and tell MyBob I’m keeping the car a bit longer though. He was planning to go to the Albatross Protection Society meeting.”

  Big Estelle Huntington, the Cougar’s daughter, said, “We’ll be there, Kiki, as long as you assure Mother that your Wifi is working.”

  Little Estelle looked up from her Gadabout parked in the corner. “Gotta have Wifi. I’ve got a hot one on the hook,” she called out. “He’s a stripper from Des Moines. Don’t wanna lose the connection.”

  “The Wifi was working just fine when I left this morning,” Kiki assured them.

  “I didn’t know they had strippers in Des Moines, and I lived in Iowa all my life.” Lillian’s eyes were wide, her expression startled behind her black-rimmed glasses.

  “I’ll bet there’s a lot you don’t know, Miss Lillian.” Pat winked at her, and Lil took a step back.

  “Okay, ladies,” Em said, “don’t forget your purses and phones and notebooks on your way out.”

  “You going to pop a bottle of champagne when we’re gone?” Kiki asked. “I’ll bet you can’t wait to celebrate the demise of the show.”

  “Not a bad idea. This day couldn’t get any better.”

  “Yeah, but it could get worse.” Kiki nodded toward the front door. “Here comes trouble.”

  Detective Roland Sharpe strode toward them, and Kiki couldn’t help but notice the man never took his eyes off Em as he crossed the room. Kiki took a deep breath and reminded herself to stay calm. Roland rarely made house calls unless something was up. Surely he hadn’t driven all the way out here unless it was to assure them Kimo was in the clear.

  “So, Detective, are you here to tell us you finally found Bobby’s murderer?” she asked.

  He ignored her and greeted Em.

  “Hi, Roland,” Em returned.

  Then he nodded to the Maidens and said, “Ladies.”

  Finally he turned to Kiki. “The murder happened yesterday, Kiki. We haven’t finally solved it.” Then he looked at the Maidens. “I’m glad you’re all here. Among other things, synthetic wig fibers were found in the kitchen area and all around the bar.” His gaze touched on each of them in turn. “Do any of you own a wig?”

  Slowly, one by one, they all raised their hands. Roland rolled his eyes and leaned against the bar.

  “Did you actually think this was going to be easy?” Em asked.

  He shook his head. “There’s always hope.”

  He turned back to Kiki. “So you all own wigs? Have you worn them here recently?”

  “We wear them for certain dances, when we want to make a dramatic entrance and all have the same color and length of hair, just like the really well known dancers in the halau that compete at the Merry Monarch Festival. We wore them for a special number earlier in the week.”

  Roland’s palm-sized notebook was in his hand, his pen poised above it. “So, are they black?”

  “Yes. Long, black, waist-length fake hair.”

  “Do you own gray wigs?”

  Little Estelle looked up from her laptop. “Gray wigs?” she shouted. “Who needs a gray wig? We have gray hair.” She barked out a l
augh and tooted the horn on her electric scooter. “All over.”

  “You’re blushing, Roland,” Kiki said.

  “You really are,” Em agreed.

  “What about our silver wigs?” Suzi Matamoto asked. “The Cleopatra cut.”

  “I forgot about those.” Kiki looked up at Roland. “You might mistake them for gray, but they’re silver.”

  “You wear Cleopatra wigs for a hula?” Roland didn’t hide his pain. “My Hawaiian grandmother is rolling over in her grave.”

  Kiki straightened her shoulders. “I choreographed a dance to ‘Walk Like An Egyptian.’ You have to think out of the box to have memorable performances. We actually performed it a week or so ago when Randy wanted to bring in some younger, sexier dancers. He thought it was great for the show.”

  “Kiki, you’re so far out of the box no one could ever cram you back in.” Marilyn sniffed.

  “Marilyn, why don’t you go back over to the house?” Em suggested. She lowered her voice. “Let things settle down in here.”

  Kiki turned her back on Marilyn. “Let’s get back to our practice, ladies.”

  “Laaadeez! Off to Kiki’s!” Pat yelled. “On the double.”

  10

  Another Day Another Murder

  Em waited until both Kiki and Marilyn had walked away before she turned to Roland. “What about the produce and fish delivery men? Anything turn up?”

  “The fish delivery man’s time is accounted for. He made all his stops that morning. I made calls to all of his customers, and I had a chance to talk to him personally. The produce man is a different story. I called Paradise Produce, and they said Keith Daws, the driver’s name written on the card, left for Maui later that morning.”

  “So he couldn’t have done it.”

  “He’d supposedly taken the whole day off. I got a hold of his flight number, and he could have had time to drive out here, kill the cameraman, then make it back to the airport and off the island,” he said.

  “So Kimo’s in the clear. Are you going to arrest the guy?”

  “For what? We’ve got no connection between him and Bobby Quinn and no evidence other than Kimo’s word that he was here. I have the Maui police looking for him. He got off the plane and disappeared, because he didn’t rent a car and he’s not at a hotel. Probably because he’s at a family reunion and staying with relatives. At least that’s what his boss says. No one can remember the name of the folks having the reunion.”

  “If Daws did do it, what’s to keep him from taking a flight from Maui to the mainland and slipping right through your fingers?”

  “We have his name on a security watch list at the Maui airport. If he tries to fly anywhere but back to Kauai, he’s out of luck. He’s got a flight home on Tuesday.”

  “Can’t you have the Maui police arrest him and bring him back over here now?”

  “And ruin the family reunion? Listen, from everything I’ve found out about him, Keith Daws is a nice guy. Twenty-eight. Hard worker.”

  “So you’re just going to wait until he moseys back to Kauai to question him?”

  Roland shrugged. “Pretty much.”

  Just then the two-way radio clipped to Roland’s belt squawked. He turned the volume down, but not before everyone in the bar heard the dispatcher on the other end.

  “Ohmyword!” Lillian cried. “Not again.”

  “What did that just say?” Kiki wanted to know.

  “Someone just found a body at the Haena Beach Resort.” Em’s hand went to her throat.

  Haena Beach Resort was a small grouping of two-story condos on windswept Kepuhi Beach a couple of miles up the road from the Goddess. HBR, as the locals called it, had been built in the seventies and was a quiet, laid back resort with a pool and other modest amenities known for its off-the-beaten-path solitude and its stunning ocean front view of forever.

  “Another murder?” Em spoke so softly Roland barely heard her over the chatter of the others. He scanned the anxious faces around the bar.

  Pat Boggs cupped her hand around her mouth and yelled, “Laaaadeeez! Shut the bleep up. Let the man talk.”

  “I don’t know any more than what you already heard,” he told them and then headed for the door.

  “Roland, wait.” Em hurried to catch him.

  He paused, and she reminded him, “Bobby Quinn was staying at HBR. The rest of the crew was up at Princeville at the St. Lexus. There wasn’t enough in the budget for another high-end room, and Bobby was low man on the totem pole, so he had a condo out here.”

  Before the detective could say anything, Kiki called from across the room, “You can’t pin this latest murder on Kimo, Roland. Before he came in to work, he had a six a.m. appointment at the spa for a pedicure. Having callouses filed off his feet is about the only thing that calms him down anymore.”

  11

  Louie’s Big Event

  Friday night, the night of the rehearsal dinner, Em was waiting for Louie in his office when someone knocked on the door. She smiled when she opened it and saw Roland.

  “Hiding?” He stepped in. She shut the door, effectively cutting off the bedlam in the bar.

  “I told Louie I wanted to walk into the party on his arm. He’s going to join me as soon as he’s ready. He’s a little late because he and Buzzy carried Letterman over on his portable perch. My uncle thought it would be great to have folks meet the famous taste-testing parrot since there’s a new write up about Dave on the drink menus. He was a real hit on the show pilot, but they had to take Letterman out of the bar because most of his dialogue had to be bleeped out. Besides, Louie was afraid Dave might really insult someone. My uncle is terrified of lawsuits.”

  “Does that thing bite?”

  “Only if he doesn’t like you, and there aren’t many people he actually likes. Louie’s also worried that David will make politically incorrect remarks to young women. He does that after he’s had a couple of drinks.”

  Roland shook his head. “That’s one for the books.”

  “If you pull out your little notebook and write that down, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” She was only half joking.

  “Where is he now?”

  “Louie or the parrot?”

  “Your uncle.”

  “He ran back over to the house to change.” She smiled up at him. “I’m glad you could make it, Roland.”

  He shrugged. “I’m here in an official capacity.”

  “Representing the mayor?”

  “No, but I did see a couple of councilmen out there. Actually, I’m on duty. I thought someone should check out the crowd.”

  A chill ran down her spine. “You don’t think the murderer would show up here tonight, do you?”

  He shrugged. “I hope not.”

  “Still waiting for the vegetable delivery guy to come back from Maui?”

  “He’s supposed to be home on Tuesday. I talked to Kimo again and tried to get a description. He said he didn’t really pay much attention. He was busy prepping and had his back to the guy most of the time, but he thought Keith Daws was wearing glasses, a baseball cap with the produce company’s logo, some kind of uniform shirt. Said he had shaggy, black hair.”

  “What about the murder at Haena Beach Resort? There wasn’t much in the paper.”

  “One of the maids, Esther Villaviejos, thirty-nine, was found dead in one of the condos. She was hit on the head with a blunt instrument we now believe to be a lamp. The receptionist said the guest who checked out of the room where the body was found had an ID from Indianapolis. His name was Dewey Smithson. The credit card matched up. She said he had washed out, stringy, long hair and wore it tied back in a ponytail. Looked like a nerd. He said he was a birdwatcher.”

  “So maybe the tourist did it and left the island.”

 
“We checked the airline manifests, but there was no Smithson aboard any outbound flights. He could be out bird watching, maybe camping someplace. We have his name on a watch list. If he tries to leave the island, we’ll bring him in for questioning.”

  “He could be anywhere.”

  “He’s not our chief suspect.” Roland looked over his shoulder then back at Em. “Ms. Villaviejos’ co-workers said she’s had a lot of beefs with her estranged husband and recently took out a restraining order. We hope to bring him in for questioning, but so far no one seems to know where the husband is.”

  Em pictured her own ex, Phillip. In their case, she’d most likely be the one doing the strangling.

  “Maybe he’s at a family reunion, too.”

  Roland ignored her comment.

  “You think the maid’s death was connected to Bobby’s? He was staying out there.”

  He shrugged. “We tried connecting Mrs. Villaviejos to the cameraman. No one noticed anything going on. We tried connecting the husband, Victor Villaviejos, to the Goddess. One of the maid’s friends said that when he and his wife were still getting along they sometimes stopped in here for a drink after he picked her up from work. We’re trying to find out if maybe Victor was here the night before Bobby Quinn’s murder. Maybe he and the cameraman had a run in.”

  “You think maybe this Victor Villaviejos came back and killed Bobby?”

  “It’s a long shot.” Roland crossed his arms.

  “What about the tourist? Smithson? I’d be surprised if someone staying that close to the Goddess didn’t come in for a drink. Do you have a photo of him? Someone might remember seeing him.”

  “We’re working on it.”

  “Do you think there’s a serial murderer running around?”

  “I hope not. I don’t think the murders are connected.”

  Em tried to focus, but her gaze kept straying to the rock hard biceps beneath his Aloha shirt sleeves.

  “Looks like having the TV crew pull out hasn’t hurt business any,” he said.

  “You can’t judge by tonight. Most of the people are here because of Louie and Marilyn’s party. But you’re right. Business is still great. But I don’t miss the crew a bit. It’s such a relief not to have that camera in my face,” she said.