Wedding Day Dead: A Murder on Maui Mystery (2 page)

I had my garage sale nightmare about a week after that encounter with the angry neighbor. The only items I decided to take with me to Maui were
my camera, laptop, a box of my favorite books, and one suitcase of clothing. I didn’t bother to pack my winter clothes, and most of my summer clothes were old and needed to be replaced.

About a month after the garage sale, I sold my house. I never met the couple who bought it, but my agent said they were a young military couple who got transferred into the area.

I scheduled my flight back to Maui for the day after my house closing. It was a risky schedule since I knew house closings are often postponed for one reason or another, but I was anxious to get back to the sunshine of Maui and even more anxious to get back to Alana.

The house closing went smoothly, and I was able to keep my scheduled flight. Somehow, the airline forgot to put me in the middle seat of the last row just in front of the bathroom. The flight was oversold as usual, and everyone was fighting for overhead space for their overstuffed carry-on bags.

I saw something on that flight that I didn’t think I’d ever see. One man - let’s call him Man A - walked down the aisle and pulled a large bag behind him. He was clearly frustrated to see there was no space for the bag in the overhead compartments.

He stopped right beside me, reached up into the overhead compartment and removed another person’s bag. He then placed his bag in the compartment and sat down in the aisle seat across from me. He completely left the other person’s bag sitting in the aisle.

That bag belonged to Man B, who happened to be sitting in the aisle seat directly behind Man A. Man B proceeded to yell at Man A for what he had just done. Man A looked at Man B like he was completely crazy. He then accused Man B of being rude and said he couldn’t understand why he was yelling at him. This only proceeded to make Man B even angrier.

Two flight attendants walked by, and neither of them said a word. Like your typical DMV or post office worker, they refused to make eye contact with either guy. I think there’s a theory that if you don’t look at the person or the problem, then you can’t be accused of not doing anything to fix it. Oh, the little mind games we play with ourselves.

I was a bit concerned that if a fight actually broke out, I was going to be stuck right in the middle of it. Sure enough, Man B got out of his seat and
started pointing his finger in Man A’s face. This caused Man A to stand up, and I assumed a fight was inevitable.

One of the flight attendants finally appeared and threatened to kick them both off the plane. She listened to both their stories and decided to check both of their bags through. This thoroughly pissed off Man B. I don’t blame him, but I also understand the flight attendant’s predicament. I managed to stay out of the whole thing. Thank God, she didn’t ask me for my opinion of what happened. Both guys did end up sitting down, and the plane finally pulled back from the gate.

The rest of the flight went by without incident. The couple who sat beside me was going back to Oahu to celebrate their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. They had not been to the islands since their honeymoon. I found them a nice and charming couple, and it was a rare pleasure to spend those cramped hours talking to them. The experience came close to wiping out all of the negative energy I experienced during the boarding process.

We landed in Honolulu. I said goodbye to my new friends and wished them a wonderful anniversary trip. I walked the short distance to my new gate. It was only about an hour before my flight to Maui.

I called Alana to confirm my flight was on time. She was waiting for me in baggage claim at the Kahului airport. She was dressed in business attire, so I assumed she had driven directly from work. As usual, she looked fantastic. Alana is half Hawaiian and half Japanese. Her long black hair perfectly frames her face. Her body is slender and graceful. Her dark eyes are undoubtedly her best feature, at least as far as I’m concerned. She has a way of looking at me that leaves me utterly defenseless. She can get me to do anything in these moments. I hope that she doesn’t realize that vulnerability of mine, but she’s a woman, so I’m sure she is well aware of the power she holds over me. As I walked toward her, I remembered the first time I laid eyes on her. It was during a Halloween parade. She was the Little Mermaid, and I played the role of the captivated and enchanted man.

It had been a couple of months since I saw her last. Although we spoke every day by phone, I was surprised by how much I missed her. I guess that sounds harsh, and I don’t mean it to, but the feeling was a bit overwhelming and a little disconcerting. I had not given myself over to someone so freely in such a long time.

I think as we get older, and we experience the pains and heartbreaks that every relationship has, we instinctively start to hold a part of ourselves back. Maybe it’s a form of self-protection - sort of a feeling that if we hold that small portion back from the other person, then that’s something that can never be hurt. However, it was different with Alana. I held back nothing. I don’t believe it was a conscious decision on my part. It just happened, and I wasn’t even aware that it happened until that moment at the airport. I wasn’t sure if that was ultimately self-destructive on my part or whether I would come to regret it later. I hoped it wasn’t and that I wouldn’t. But no one can predict the future, least of all me.

I kissed Alana hello, and we told it each other how much we missed the other and how great it was to be reunited. Being with her was more than worth the hassle of the garage sale, the house closing, and the long flight back to the island with psychopathic guys fighting over bags.

Alana and I didn’t have to wait long for my belongings to start coming down the baggage ramp. I grabbed one of those airport carts and put my suitcase, box of books, and laptop bag on it. We pushed the cart out to her car and drove to Alana’s favorite sushi restaurant, which was not far from the police station where she worked.

I had my usual rainbow and California rolls, while Alana had the sashimi. We each had a large hot sake, and she was gracious enough not to laugh too hard when I told her my tale of sorrow and pain regarding the garage sale.

After dinner, we drove back to her house, and a few minutes after arriving, we were in her bed. We made love and collapsed on our backs, completely worn out and content. How did I get so lucky?

II

Maui the Dog

A
fter moving to Maui, I started searching for an apartment, but Foxx convinced me to stay with him. He argued there was no reason to rush into finding a place when I really didn’t know the island that well. It was a sound argument, but I thought it was more about Foxx not wanting to be alone. After all, his girlfriend had been murdered, and he had just gotten out of jail. That would shake the strongest of us.

In addition to being company for Foxx, the location of the house added another benefit. Lauren had been quite wealthy from the success of her art, and she had purchased one of the most beautiful homes in Ka’anapali, one of the most exclusive parts of Maui. The home sits on a gorgeous piece of property that overlooks the Pacific Ocean.

I loved spending the morning jumping in the pool and the evening watching the sun set into the water. It’s quite a life, but there’s always a part of me that feels guilty for being here and enjoying the place so much. This house belonged to Lauren. I didn’t know her well at all. I only met her briefly before her life was tragically cut short. I discovered that a lot of people didn’t like her. Many accused her of stealing their ideas and their work, but she was still a human being. She deserved better than what she got.

Lauren’s death caused her already-expensive art to skyrocket in price. She left her fortune to Foxx and all of the sales of her remaining art also went to him. He was set for life, but his time in jail had left him questioning everything about his life and what he wanted out of it. Like me, I don’t think he had a clue what he should do next. He was a retired professional football player with no
need to work ever again. I was an ex-architect with no desire to design anything ever again, and although I wasn’t as wealthy as Foxx, my parents’ hard work and careful financial planning left me wanting for nothing. I guess he and I were both sort of lost when it came to deciding what path we wanted our futures to take, but neither of us seemed in a hurry to figure it out. I realize these are amazing problems to have.

So how did I spend my carefree days? Most of my time I could be found photographing the island and spending as much time as I could, usually at night, with Alana. She worked a lot of hours as a detective, especially for an island as small and slow as Maui, but somehow that made our time together even more valuable. We talked briefly about moving in together, but ultimately decided we didn’t want to rush things. It was kind of silly, though, because we practically lived together anyway. I spent a few nights a week at her house, and she spent at least one or two nights with me at Foxx’s place. Life was good, and even though I didn’t know what direction my life should go, I was content to stay on cruise control and not overthink things.

Just when you think things are going beyond great, the universe comes along and punches you upside your head.

The tale started on a Saturday. I remember this because it was exactly one week from the surprise wedding. I started my day as I usually did by climbing out of bed and making my way out to the swimming pool. I dove in and felt the cool water instantly wake me up. I dried myself off and walked to the kitchen to make myself a breakfast of cereal and soy milk.

I turned on the tiny television on the kitchen counter to listen to the news. I still don’t know why I insist on watching the news. It usually just leaves me depressed, as do many of the commercials and public service announcements. Am I the only one who frantically searches for the TV remote so I can quickly turn the channel every time that Sarah McLachlan commercial for animal adoption comes on? It’s depressing and manipulative, which I realize is completely the point. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, it wore me down after about the tenth time I saw it.

It had been about twenty years since I last owned a dog. I was so devastated by his death that I swore I would never have a dog again. Maybe you think I’m being overly sentimental for getting so upset over the loss of an animal, but
for those of you who have had the pleasure of owning a furry companion, you know the pain I speak of when they pass to the great beyond.

I had been thinking about buying a dog for a few weeks now. Sarah’s latest blatant manipulation of my heartstrings pushed me over the edge, and I decided to spend my morning in search of a hound.

I pointed my car in the direction of the nearest dog pound. Actually, it was Lauren’s BMW Z3 convertible. Foxx offered to sell it to me, and I initially declined. I actually declined several times. I just felt like it was yet another way I was profiting from Lauren’s death. Foxx convinced me, though, that he was going to sell it to someone, and it may as well be me. So I bought the little silver car. I loved driving it even though it was without a doubt the most impractical vehicle on the road.

I drove the several miles to the dog pound and pulled into the parking lot. The building looked like two trailers put together. The walls were paper thin, and I could hear the dogs barking from out in the parking lot. I entered the building and told the attendant of my intentions to adopt a dog. She enthusiastically showed me around as I silently cursed Miss McLachlan. All the dogs had that helpless and pitiful look while they sat in their tiny cages. I wanted to adopt them all but knew that would be insanity. I made my way from cage to cage, and then I saw him. He looked like he weighed about ten pounds. He had a silver face and legs, and a black body and tail.

“What’s this little guy?” I asked.

“He’s one of those new breeds.”

“New breed?”

“He’s a mix between a Maltese and a Yorkie.”

“So he’s a mutt?” I asked.

“You could say that, but the breed is actually called a morkie.”

“How old is he?”

“He’s about a year. His owner moved back to the mainland and couldn’t take him with her.”

How could anyone leave this little guy behind?
I thought.

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“George.”

I cringed. George was the name of a guy I met during Lauren’s murder investigation. He lied to me repeatedly and eventually tried to kill me. The dog’s name would have to change.

“Is he full grown yet?” I asked.

“He may gain another pound or two as he matures.”

I leaned toward the cage.

“Well, little guy, what do you say?”

The dog barked once, and I took that to mean he was cool with going home with me.

I turned to the attendant.

“I’ll take him.”

The attendant sold me a small bag of dog food and gave me George’s vet records. I carried the dog outside and put him down on the ground and hoped he would use the bathroom before I put him in the car. He lifted his leg and peed on the front steps of the dog shelter. Then he kicked his back legs several times, as if to wash the dirt of the shelter off his tiny paws. He took one last look at the building, and then turned and walked toward my car. I’m not sure how he knew which was the right car, but this little guy was already starting to impress me.

I put the dog in the front passenger seat and popped the roof back so he’d enjoy the wind through his fur. Yes, I know. I was spoiling him already.

I drove straight for Alana’s house, anxious to show her my new friend. I usually pull into her driveway, but there was already another car there when I arrived, so I parked on the street. The dog stood up in the seat of the car and balanced himself by placing his front paws on the top of the car door. He looked toward her house, and I wondered if he thought I was taking him to his old home. Poor guy. I assumed he missed his original owner badly.

I picked up the dog and carried him to the front door. I would need to buy a leash soon. I rang the bell and after several long seconds, Alana swung the door open. It was obvious from the sour look on her face that something wasn’t right.