Dying for a Daiquiri (11 page)

Then he smiled. “Of course, that was before my best friend’s little sis stumbled into my life.”

I felt my cheeks turning the color of the koi that swam past at that moment. I could swear it winked. Was it just me or did the supersized goldfish also think something fishy was going on?

“Now that the police have confirmed Keiki was murdered, are you going to tell them about Timmy’s comment?”

He frowned. “I’m hesitant to talk to them without discussing it with him first. These local kids have a hard enough time making a living. I don’t want to do anything that would get him in trouble with the authorities. Timmy’s had a tough time this past month dealing with his younger brother’s death.”

“I understand, but I hate to think of Regan sitting in jail if Timmy had anything to do with Keiki’s murder.”

“You know, it could have just been talk. Young guys sometimes think they need to put up a macho front when they’re around their friends.”

“I suppose everyone lets something slip now and then.” I recalled some of the maternal comments I’d made over the years. “I might have threatened my children once or twice with a fate worse than death. Like no TV.”

“See, it could be nothing.” He rubbed his jaw for a minute. “Although that night at the Hula bar, Keiki mentioned a possible stalker. She was positive her car had been tailed a few times.”

Now that was interesting. A potential stalker could be a potential suspect.

“Hey, I have a terrific idea.” Steve’s smile was so infectious the women at the next table seemed to brighten. “Why don’t you join us for the sunset sail tonight? You’re really good at drawing people out. I’m sure you could find a tactful way to question Timmy. He’s not the chattiest guy around, but he would probably respond far better to your questions than to being grilled by his boss.”

I wasn’t convinced of my ability to draw Timmy out, but, with Regan in jail, I would talk to anyone with information about Keiki’s murder. It was the least I could do for my sister-in-law. I pulled out my phone and checked my calendar to see if Liz had made plans for the group that evening.

“Evidently the honeymooners decided to spend a night alone. Should I ask Stan and Mother to join us?”

“We’re fully booked so there won’t be any extra seats for them.” Steve reached out and placed his slightly calloused palm on top of mine. “Besides, once you’re done talking to Timmy, you and I can spend some time together. We’ll finally have an opportunity to get to know each other better, without being surrounded by your family and friends. What do you say?”

The more important question was what would Tom Hunter say? My inner Laurel warned me to stay far away from bronzed sea captains with bewitching blue eyes.

I told her to mind her own business. I had a date to watch the sun set over the Pacific.

* * *

Four hours later, I sat at a different table in the same restaurant with Mother and Stan, discussing my upcoming boating expedition. The tropical koi swam past our table, their colors so vivid and bright, I almost needed sunglasses to reduce the glare.

“So you and the sea captain are hooking up tonight, huh?” Stan wiggled his brows.

“There will be no hooking up.” I scrunched my nose at his comment. “At least for me. I’m only going on board to talk to Timmy from the
Sea Jinx
crew.”

My mother dropped today’s edition of the local newspaper next to my plate. An unflattering photo of Regan stared back at me from the front page. “I think it’s an excellent idea. We need to help free Regan. And soon. This kind of publicity,” she scowled and pointed at the paper, “isn’t going to help their restaurant one bit. She might even lose her job.”

And her freedom, I thought, staring at the black-and-white photo of my sister-in-law.

The article was relatively brief, mentioning only that the Hawaii police had arrested Regan for Keiki’s murder, and that she and my brother owned Daiquiri Dave’s Lounge, where the victim had also worked.

“I think Steve is right, Laurel. You’re easy to talk to, and you never know what you can learn from questioning Timmy,” Mother said. “Plus Steve is a nice guy. Handsome, personable, and he owns his own boat.”

Stan nodded his agreement. “A man with a boat––the ideal man. Well, he would be if he swam in the other direction.”

“So you haven’t met any hunky Hawaiian hotties yet?” I asked him.

“The day is young.” He looked at his watch. “And in five hours I have a lesson with some Samoan dancers.”

“How did you wangle that?”

“Your brother gave me Walea’s number, and I called her. She was a little reticent at first, but I overwhelmed her with my charm and she referred me to these guys.”

“Will she be there?”

“Nah, she and her husband are performing somewhere tonight. She told me I’m a natural though.”

Walea was right on one count. Stan was a natural. But of what, was the question?

“Did she say anything about her sister?” I asked.

He nodded. “She said she was glad the police discovered Keiki’s killer so quickly.”

“Was she surprised about Regan’s arrest?”

He shrugged. “If she was, she didn’t mention it to me. She said she was grateful justice had been served, and her family could go on with their lives.”

“I can sympathize with Walea, and I feel terrible about her loss,” Mother said, “but if we don’t find the killer soon, I’m not sure how my son and daughter-in-law will go on with
their
lives.”

When I arrived at the boat that evening, I learned that Walea was substituting for the
Sea Jinx’s
principal performer, Noelani, who was sick once again. On a positive note, Noelani was overjoyed to learn her twenty-four-hour flu bug was in reality twenty-four-hour morning sickness.

I was thrilled at the opportunity to see Walea. Keiki’s sister might think the killer was behind bars, but I needed to prove otherwise. My empathetic manner would hopefully encourage her to confide in me. Between Walea and Timmy, I could discover some useful facts to help our amateur investigation.

My focus tonight would be 100% on detecting. No distractions whatsoever, not even hunky blue-eyed ones.

Even though I was looking forward to talking with Walea, I should have guessed she wouldn’t be happy to see me. Walea and Henry arrived a few minutes after I did, about fifteen minutes before the passengers were to board. She and her husband sent identical glares in my direction. Fortunately, I was standing next to Amanda. The naturalist’s bubbly personality could coax a smile out of Jaws.

Amanda threw her arms around Walea as she offered condolences. “Honey, how are you doing? I was so sorry to hear about Keiki.”

“
Mahalo
, Amanda. We are still in shock.” Walea practically spat at me as she cried out. “What are you doing here? Hasn’t your family brought enough pain to mine?”

I took a step back. So maybe Walea
wasn’t
in the mood for condolences from me. Amanda took Walea’s arm, guiding her to the other side of the
Sea Jinx
. Henry joined Rick in the bow of the boat where the young musician tuned his guitar. I recognized Rick from Liz’s reception. The young man’s muscular biceps boasted dragon tattoos curling down and around each elbow. As his arm moved up and down so did the dragon’s colorful tail.

Walea and Amanda chatted briefly then Amanda left to welcome the passengers. The dancer walked down the stairs leading to the lower deck, her garment bag and flowered tote in her hands.

I followed her down, figuring this might be my only opportunity to speak with Walea in private before she began her performance.

“Can I help you with anything?” I asked.

Her full lips curled in disgust. “What kind of help can you provide?”

She turned away and began pulling assorted items from her oversized bag.

I moved closer. “You can’t honestly believe Regan killed your sister.”

Walea grabbed a coconut bra out of the enormous tote and flung it at me. I ducked as the hard brown shells narrowly missed my head. The dancer could have doubled as a pitcher for the San Francisco Giants. The bra bounced off a beam then clattered to the floor.

I picked up the apparel-turned-assault weapon, debating if it was safe to return the item to the owner. Since dancing would be somewhat awkward without the upper half of her costume, I reluctantly handed it back to her.

Walea’s passionate outburst was short-lived. Her plump body seemed to droop along with her spirit. She muttered a soft
mahalo.
Tears ran down her plain, sorrowful face.

“I apologize,” she said. “My family’s tragedy is not your problem. I am only mad at myself for talking your brother into hiring Keiki. I thought a steady job and paycheck might keep my little sister out of trouble. But trouble always managed to find her.”

“Beautiful women are frequently magnets for trouble,” I responded. “And for men.”

She nodded in agreement. “Men looked at Keiki like she was their last meal. No matter where we went, they devoured her with their eyes. Once she realized her power over men, especially
haoles
, it turned into a quest for her.”

“A quest for money?” I ventured.

She shrugged, the movement fluffing her mahogany mane around her shoulders. “Money, trinkets, power. Whatever she could squeeze out of them. Sometimes I think Keiki did it for the thrill of the chase. Reel in a big fish, gut him, then drop him back in the ocean.”

“Someone mentioned she was your stepsister?”

“My father met her mother, Kiana, eight years ago when Keiki was fourteen.” Walea gracefully donned her grass skirt then modestly removed her capris. “Kiana worked at the same coffee farm as my father before he moved to Koffee Land. The coconut didn’t fall far from the tree when it came to those two women. Kiana went after my father with no holds barred. He left my mother and in less than a year, he and Kiana married. I had a new stepmother and stepsister.”

“I can sympathize. My ex-husband left me three years ago for one of his clients. It’s tough, especially on the kids.”

“It was horrible. My mother fell into a depression so there was no one to watch over my three little brothers but me.” A flash of anger surfaced and flared in her eyes. “I hated Kiana for taking my father away from us.”

“How did you and Keiki get along?”

“Growing up with three brothers, I always longed for a little sister. All of a sudden, I had one. Whether I wanted her or not.” She laughed, but it was a harsh mirthless sound. “Then I discovered if I hung out with Keiki, there were boys surrounding me. For the first time ever. They might have been her cast-offs, but they were good enough for me.”

Interesting family dynamic. Was Walea’s husband one of Keiki’s so-called “cast offs?”

The man in question suddenly ran down the stairs. He frowned when he noticed us together. In an icy voice, his acne-scarred chin almost touching mine, Henry told me to “Stay away from my wife.”

I stepped back, relieved when Steve called for me from above deck. I darted up the steps to find a very anxious sea captain holding a tablecloth in his hand. Steve and the crew had waited to cast off because both Timmy and the regular bartender were late. Timmy had finally shown up, but the bartender had called to say his car had been rear-ended.

Before I knew it, I was serving drinks and yummy pupus while maneuvering between passengers who jumped from their seats every time Amanda spotted a whale. At the rate she kept pointing out marine mammals, it looked like the humpbacks were enjoying far more romance on
their
Hawaiian vacation than I was on mine.

Steve had talked me into wearing a makeshift sarong. I wasn’t certain the blue-flowered tablecloth that had morphed into a flowing Hawaiian garment was necessary, but it made me feel somewhat exotic.

“All I’m missing is a flower,” I complained to Steve as I pointed to the yellow hibiscus clipped over Amanda’s ear.

Steve smiled and grabbed a tiny orchid from the bar supply. He tucked it behind my ear, apologized for putting me to work, and told me I was the most beautiful woman on board the boat.

I’m such a sucker for a compliment, especially when an azure-eyed Adonis is the one whispering it in my ear.

My previous boating experiences consisted of me sitting on my butt and watching the shoreline. Balancing a tray of drinks on deck was like roller-skating on a surfboard. I assumed I’d eventually acclimate to the boat’s movement, but as the shoreline receded, the choppiness increased. My primary goal was to avoid dumping mai tais or daiquiris on the passengers. So far, I’d limited my spills to my own washable garment.

I’d begun to wonder if I would ever get an opportunity to talk to Timmy when Steve announced the evening’s entertainment would begin.

A reprieve at last. After promising one Australian matey I would return with refills once the show ended, I set my tray on the bar and told Amanda I was going below deck to talk to Timmy.

The boat rocked and I teetered on the stairs, grabbing hold of the railing. I finally spied Timmy in the corner, his dark head bent over a small bench. Noise from the ship’s engine must have muffled my footsteps. When I tapped him on the shoulder, he spun around faster than a whirling dervish on speed.

One muscular arm wrapped around my neck, squeezing off my windpipe. His hot breath burned the hairs on my nape. Choking, I struggled to push his arm away, but I stopped when I felt the prick of something sharp pressed against my tender skin.

My body shook with fear and my trembling became so violent, my sarong threatened to slip from R-rated territory into an X-rated tell-all.

“Sorry. You kine spook me.” Timmy removed his arm from my neck and slipped the Swiss army knife back into his pocket. “Why you not upstairs?”

I gathered a large breath to calm myself down then let it out. Bad idea. Remind me not to wear a garment secured by only one knot the next time I’m assaulted from behind. I snatched the top of my sarong with both hands and hitched it up to its original PG version.