Honeymoon in High Heels

by Gemma Halliday

  "What about the autopsy?" I asked, grabbing a pair of dangling earrings and popping them into my ears to cap off my outfit.

  "About what you'd expect. Ahlia died of asphyxiation, her windpipe crushed."

  Which didn't take a genius to figure out, given the way I'd found her.

  “Anyway, I’m beat," Ramirez said. "Wanna order in?” Then he paused and took in my outfit. “Or are you on your way out somewhere?”

  I bit my lip. Ordering in with my husband in the honeymoon suite was exactly what I wanted to do. What I had wanted to do since we got there. However, tonight I had another date to keep.

  “Actually, I was going to meet Dana and Marco at the luau tonight,” I reluctantly told him.

  Ramirez groaned. “Haven't you had enough of those fire dancers yet?”

  If only he knew…

  “Yes,” I said, honestly. “But Dana and Marco haven’t seen them yet.”

  He let out a big breath. “Okay. Let’s go to the luau. Again,” he said, dragging himself up off the bed.

  “Oh, you want to…. I mean you’re going to come, too…” I trialed off.

  He paused, a frown settling between his brows. “You don’t want me to come with you?”

  “No, no, of course not. I mean, of course I do,” I quickly backtracked. Though having my detective husband tag along on our trapping mission did throw a small complication into the mix.

  “Good. Give me five minutes to shower,” he said, heading into the bathroom.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later we had snaked our way down the beachfront path to the restaurant again, meeting up with Marco and Dana at the hostess kiosk just as the sound of ukuleles signaled the start of the luau.

  Marco raised an eyebrow, and Dana looked from me to the cop at my side.

  “Ramirez is joining us,” I said, pasting a big smile on my face that I hoped said, "ix-nay on the ap-tray."

  Luckily, they seemed to catch on, staying mute as the hostess seated us at a table for four near the back of the room. Four Mai Tais appeared in front of us as the drum music started. The dancers made their way onto the stage, and fire lit up the room amidst delighted gasps from the crowd. Marco clapped his hands and bounced up and down in his seat, giddy with lust as the dancers twirled their batons, their well-defined pecs dancing in the firelight. Even Dana seemed enamored, staring open-mouthed at the display. I, however, was antsy. I sipped my drink, fidgeted in my seat, and chewed on my lip until I was sure I had eaten off all of my Raspberry Perfection lipgloss. One of those dancers was our killer, and in just a matter of minutes I was going to find out which one.

  My stomach was such a ball of anticipation that I hardly touched my mushy stuff or the pork-with-head-still-attached. The fire dancers ended their set, the 'ote'a dancers replacing them as another course arrived. By the time the final act took the stage and dessert was brought out on colorful carts, covered with decadent creations, I was a bundle of nerves.

  It was now or never.

  "I’m just going to go powder my nose,” I announced to the table, pushing my chair backwards. I shot Dana a meaningful look.

  “Oh, right. Me too,” she chimed in.

  “Me three!” Marco said, following our lead.

  Ramirez frowned, his eyes going from one to the other of us. He might be tired, but he was no dummy.

  “What?” I asked, blinking innocently. “You know girls like to go to the restroom in tandem."

  Ramirez cut his eyes to Marco and raised an eyebrow.

  “Boys powder their noses, too,” Marco protested.

  I wasn’t sure my husband was totally buying that statement, but before he could protest, I pushed away from the table and bolted. “Be back in a sec,” I called over my shoulder, ushering my look-outs down the restroom corridor.

  As soon as we were out of Ramirez's sight I led them to the side door to the alleyway. I quickly pushed through, making myself ignore the remnants of fingerprint powder and crime-scene tape still lingering in the spot where I'd found Ahlia. Instead, I headed for the beach, my silent posse buzzing with excitement behind me.

  * * *

  While the bustling restaurant was just steps from the beach, the sand itself was fairly deserted at this time of night. The sun had set, and the sky was dark, moonlight proving the only relief from the inky blackness. The sound of the ocean roared to my right as I made my way silently down the strip of sand between the resort and restaurant by myself.

  Dana and Marco had taken up posts behind a couple of bushes ripe with fragrant white flowers higher up on the beach. I didn't know exactly where they were, but they promised to keep eyes on me the entire time. Normally knowing you're being watched from behind bushes wasn’t comforting, but in this case it made me feel a little better.

  A very little.

  I paused as I reached a large sand dune. From here, I had a clear shot of both the resort to my right and the restaurant to my left. I figured it was as good a place as any to meet with a killer.

  I hugged my arms around myself, part of me almost hoping he didn't show up. While I was getting desperate to have my husband back for at least part of my honeymoon, the idea of meeting with a cold blooded strangler in the dark of night was losing its appeal by the minute. I suddenly wished I’d suggested we meet in a well-lit bar or the very public sweetheart pool instead.

  I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, but I was pretty sure that Ramirez was starting to wonder just how powdered our noses had to be before I finally heard rustling in the bushes to my left.

  I froze, my eyes cutting to the dense foliage, trying to make out any shapes. My heart sped up, and I hugged myself just that much tighter.

  “Maddie?” a voice whispered.

  I felt relief rush though me. Over the surf, I couldn’t make out which of my cohorts was hailing me, but apparently either Dana or Marco had had enough crouching in the sand.

  I quickly crossed the distance between us. “Sorry, it looks like he’s not going to show. We can always try again-"

  But I never got to finish that thought.

  Because out of the bushes jumped a figure clad all in black, rushing right toward me. I didn’t even have time to scream before his arms raised up, something metallic and glittering in his hand, then swung with such force that the world went entirely black.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I slowly opened one eye, then the other, the monumental task of raising my eyelids causing my head to pound. I blinked against a sharp light, then quickly shut my eyes again. Apparently light made my head pound, too. In fact, I realized as I slowly became aware of all my senses, everything made my head hurt. I groaned, gingerly moving my neck from side to side. I could feel a large goose egg sprouting near my temple, creating a hot, throbbing sensation that spread all the way to my toes.

  I drew in deep breaths, willing the nausea forming in my stomach to stay put, and attempted the opened-eyes thing again. I blinked quickly, trying to diffuse the bright lights surrounding me. I had no idea where I was, or how I’d gotten here. As my sight adjusted to the brightness, I took in my surroundings. A pile of boxes sat to my left, printed with the words “towelettes”. To my right, wooden crates that said “coconuts”, stacked next to a pile of silk flower leis. It appeared to be some sort of storage room. I moved to get up, but quickly realized that was not a possibility. My legs were bound to something. Ditto my hands. I looked down, realizing that I was tethered hand and foot to a crate of coconuts with a length of rope. Great.

  I wiggled back and forth, but accomplished creating painful rope burn on my wrists and ankles. The crate was too heavy to move.

  “Help!” I yelled. “Can anyone hear me?” If I was in a storeroom at the resort, surely there were employees nearby. Surely one would hear me if I just yelled loudly enough.

  “Help!” I tried again.

  I strained to hear any response. I could make out muffled sounds above me, footsteps, some soft voices. But if whoever was up there could hear me, th
ey were ignoring me.

  Which led me to wonder… just who was up there, and who had put me here?

  I strained my memory backwards, picturing the figure that I now clearly realized was not Dana or Marco, jumping out of the bushes toward me. He’d been big, but that was about all I’d been able to register in the split second before I'd blacked out. Had Dana and Marco seen me get attacked? Unfortunately, not likely. Once I’d gone to the bushes, I’d have been out of their sightline. A stupid mistake on my part, I now realized as I called out for help again.

  I have no idea how long I sat there, tethered to the coconuts, but I yelled until my voice was hoarse, and I was beginning to think I was going to be stuck there for the duration of my honeymoon. Finally one of the faint sets of footsteps started to grow louder.

  I sucked in a breath of relief. “Help! I’m in here! I’ve been kidnapped!” I shouted.

  A moment later I heard a door bang open somewhere on the other side of the boxes.

  I strained to see around them. “Over here! I’m stuck on a box of coconuts,” I directed.

  The footsteps followed the sound of my voice, and a moment later a pudgy face came into view.

  “Don!” I cried in relief. “Oh, thank God. Look, you’ve got to untie me.”

  Don stared down at me, frowning.

  “Quickly," I urged. “Ahlia’s killer tied me up, and he may be coming back for me any second to…” I trailed off, realizing that Don wasn’t untying me. In fact, he didn’t look all that surprised to see a guest tethered to a storage box and sporting a lump the size of a tennis ball on the side of her head. My stomach sank all the way to my strappy heels as I realized there was only one reason for the way he was staring at me.

  “You tied me up here,” I said.

  The frown on Don’s face slowly smoothed into a wicked smile. “I guess you’re not such a dumb blonde after all.”

  Hey! Only now was not the time to dispel that particular stereotype. I had much bigger issues at hand. Like why a desk clerk had tethered me to a box of coconuts.

  “Why?” I asked, realizing that the bulky frame I’d seen attacking me on the beach was not the gym-made muscles of a fire dancer, but Don’s oversized flab fest.

  “Because you were getting too close to the truth,” he sneered at me.

  “The truth?” I asked, still not quite getting it. “Wait – did Aki hire you to kill Ahlia?”

  “Aki? Ha!” Don laughed, though the sound didn't particularly sound humorous. “That muscle-bound moron couldn't plan a surprise party, let alone a murder.”

  “So you killed Ahlia?” I asked, hearing the confusion in my voice. “But why? Were you sleeping with her too?” I asked, trying hard to block out a visual of that.

  “No!” he said, vehemently shaking his head. “God, no. Why would I sleep with my sister?” That’s disgusting.”

  And with that one little piece of information, all the gears in my mind suddenly went into overdrive. “You're Tamaheretanero'onuiaatadon,” I said, honestly not entirely sure I'd pronounced the mammoth name correctly.

  But Don didn't correct me, instead doing a little mock bow. “Guilty as charged.”

  I shook my head. “But I don't get it. Why would you kill your own sister?”

  “For the money, of course,” he spat back.

  “The inheritance from your father,” I repeated. “But didn't you inherit as well?”

  Don’s face screwed up in a grimace. “Oh, sure. But I was still a teenager when he passed away, and Dad, in his infinite wisdom, put my money into a trust. Only by the time I was twenty-one and old enough to get at it, bad investments on the part of the trustee had depleted it to almost nothing. I got a measly couple grand while my sister was sitting on millions.”

  “I can see why that felt unfair,” I said, watching him pace in front of me as he worked himself up with the monologue. I spied a bit of the shiny metallic I'd seen in the split second on the beach sticking out of the waistband of his slacks as he moved. I’d bet my favorite stilettos that it was a gun.

  “Of course it was unfair!” he shouted back. "Half of that was my money!"

  “So, you decided to kill her for it.”

  He nodded slowly. “With that oaf of a husband of hers out of the picture, I was in line to get it all.” He paused. “As long as no one figured out what I did.” He gave me a pointed look.

  “Uh…” I said, playing dumb.

  “And as soon as I saw those notes, I knew you were getting too close. I had the police almost convinced it was a random attack. I didn't need some amateur Nancy Drew coming in and ruining everything.”

  “Sorry?” I squeaked out.

  “Sorry doesn't cut it,” he said, reaching around himself and coming out with a shiny, silver revolver. Sometimes I hated being right.

  “So, what are you going to do?” I asked, amazed I could find my voice at all. My eyes were riveted to the gun, fear prickling along the surface of my skin.

  Don narrowed his eyes at me. “I knew you were trouble the moment you walked into my lobby. Requesting a special room, wanting last minute reservations for your friends, needing private dance lessons. You couldn't just shut up and enjoy your damned vacation!”

  Trust me, now I wished I could.

  I swallowed, watching as he pointed the gun at me, the muzzle just inches from my forehead. I felt tears prick behind my eyes.

  “Please,” I pleaded with him. “I haven’t even been in the hot tub yet.”

  “Shut up!” he shouted.

  I did, clamping my mouth shut and biting my tongue.

  He pressed the gun to my head, his fingers squeezing tight on the trigger.

  I shut my eyes, feeling every muscle in my body tense against the cool, metal barrel.

  Then I heard it.

  A loud shot, ripping through the air, the echo reverberating off the storeroom walls and causing my pounding head to cry out in pain.

  Pain? Wait – pain meant I was still alive, right?

  My eyes popped open just in time to see a blank look of surprise on Don’s face before he toppled forward, half falling on top of me as the gun slid from his hand and skittered across the tile floor. His body went limp, a bright red stain quickly spread across his back, mixing with the floral shirt in a sickening pattern of colors.

  I tore my eyes away from the gruesome sight, looking beyond the point where Don had been standing.

  To see the most welcome sight in my life: My husband, wearing a look of grim concentration and holding a smoking gun.

  * * *

  I leaned my head back in my cabana, reaching for the frosty piña colada at my side (I'd had more than enough Mai Tais to last me a lifetime!) as I inhaled the mingling scents of tropical flowers, coconut infused sunscreen, and chlorine from the Olympic sized sweetheart pool.

  “Do you need another drink?” Dana asked, from the chaise beside me.

  I shook my head. Slowly, as the goose egg was still a little tender.

  “How about another pillow?” Marco asked, offering one from his chaise on my other side.

  “I’m fine. Thank you,” I responded.

  Ever since my besties had missed seeing my abduction by the Killer Brother, they had been going out of their way to make up for it, catering to me like I was the Queen of the Islands. Not that I entirely minded all that much. I mean, I didn’t blame them in the least for not seeing Don knock me out, but I wasn’t above enjoying a little pampering on my vacation either.

  After Ramirez had shot Don, the rest of the night had been a bit of a blur. Mostly because I’d been crying so hard that a veil of salty tears had colored everything I saw. Ramirez had untied me, and taken my shaky self out of the storeroom and up the stairs to a service kitchen where he held me in the tightest hug I'd ever experienced until the police arrived. Which they had in droves, cordoning off the area as a crime scene, examining the body, and scouring every inch of the place for fibers and hairs. They even scraped under my fingernails and combed out
my hair (which contained a copious amount of sand from the beach where Don had knocked me out).

  As soon as I’d given my statement to the detective in charge, Ramirez had whisked me away to the hospital to be checked out. I’d suffered a mild concussion and ended up spending night number three of my honeymoon in the hospital. Not exactly the intimate evening I'd hoped for, but Ramirez had stayed by my side the entire time, sleeping in the upright chair near the window and not even lecturing me a little bit about going off and being "bait" for a killer. Which, in my book, was about as devoutly romantic as you can get. It wasn't until morning that I’d gotten his side of the story, over a plate of pineapple infused Jell-o and watery hospital vending machine coffee.

  Apparently after I’d answered Don’s summons into the bushes, both Dana and Marco had realized they couldn't see me anymore and gone to investigate. But by the time they’d made their way to the sand dune, both Don and I were long gone. That's when they’d panicked, rushing back to the luau to tell Ramirez everything. Who, to his credit, hadn't bought the whole powdering our noses thing in the least, and was already outside scouring the parking lot for any sign of us.

  And, unlike my cohorts and I, Ramirez had suspected that the brother was the killer after all. Of course, he’d also had the advantage of having seen Ahlia’s will that afternoon, so he knew that in the event that Ahlia's husband filed for divorce, Tamaheretanero'onuiaatadon stood to inherit everything. The police had been able to track the brother down to a resort employee, so Ramirez had immediately called the police, and they’d begun scouring the resort for any sign of me. Luckily, Don hadn’t been the only one to heard my yelling, and Ramirez had found the storeroom just in time.

  If I had to say one thing for my husband, he had excellent timing.

  Once I'd gotten the all clear from the hospital, I'd been able to go back to the resort, where Dana, Marco and Ramirez had taken turns watching over me for the last two days, trading off on the pampering thing. Which, while not altogether unpleasant, had left little alone time with my husband.