03 - Three Odd Balls (11 page)

A grunt from beyond pulled her out of her reverie. Delta opened her eyes as the creature before her yanked another grisly bone from the fire. She wrinkled her nose and backed away into the jungle from whence she came.

As she blinked at the gathering gloom, the urgency of her situation dawned on her. She was hopelessly lost. Her stomach growled, reminding her she was also hopelessly hungry. The dinner Auntie Eleanor had mentioned hours earlier had long ago come and gone.

Delta raised her sapphire eyes skyward, past the trees that towered overhead, and glimpsed the emerging stars. A wave of panic seized her when she realized she would have to spend the night in the jungle, for it would be impossible to find her way back to her Auntie’s estate at this hour. Whatever that hour might be, exactly.

Reminding herself she was a brave and daring adventuress, afraid of nothing, and willing to endure any hardship or discomfort, Delta set off in search of a safe place to sleep. Why, in a jungle as lush as this, surely she could find a suitable spot? Preferably surrounded by fruit trees. Some running water would also be most welcome. A brook of some sort, from which she might refill her empty canteen.

A twig snapped in the distance, and Urquit Snodgrass snapped to attention. He looked up from the remains of his supper, and his beady yellow eyes darted back and forth into the brush behind his treasure trove. That was no monkey, he said to himself, and stood up to investigate.

***

Mother tut-tutted at the computer screen as she read my morning’s work over her morning coffee. “Oh dear,” she said. “I do believe Delta’s in more danger than even a daring adventuress such as she is prepared for.”

“Completely and totally!” Louise agreed. She looked up from reading over Tessie’s shoulder and informed me I am brilliant. “I’m loving it, Babe! Delta is in serious peril, isn’t she? Urquit Snodgrass is about to nab her!”

“Not quite yet.” I reluctantly tore my eyes from my pancakes with coconut syrup to enlighten my audience that the loathsome Mr. Snodgrass would not actually kidnap Delta until the following day.

I blinked at the garden fountain gurgling near the edge of the patio. “Delta will happen upon a most idyllic and refreshing pool of clear blue waters the morning following her arduous night in the jungle. Of course, she’ll strip down naked to bathe and revive herself and—”

“And let me guess.” Wilson looked up from his own pancakes. “Just as this Snotgrass guy is about to grab her, some stupid hunk with a huge—”

I kicked him under the table and tilted my head toward my mother. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Just as Snotgrass is about to nab her, the hero guy will rescue her, right?”

“No, Wilson,” Mother corrected. “First of all, his name is Snodgrass, not Snotgrass. And the nasty villain must first succeed in kidnapping Delta. Otherwise, our hero Skylar Staggs can’t very well rescue her from serious distress. Isn’t that right, Jessie?”

I was about to agree, but got distracted by some serious distress of my own—The Hoochie Coochie Brothers had begun tuning their ukuleles over in Song of the Sea bungalow, perfectly disturbing the serenity of our morning meal. I glanced across the garden and whimpered only slightly as the pajama-clad duo stepped out onto their porch, ukuleles in hand. They smiled and waved, and sat down to serenade us.

Mother clapped in glee. “They have a gig tonight,” she informed us. “Is that the word? Gig?”

“You mean, someone is actually going to pay them to play?” I asked.

“Mm-hmm. For Holiday Hula at Halo. Evidently an act called the Smiley Sisters was scheduled for the luau, but they had to cancel. So Hal and Cal were asked to fill in.”

“A luau?” Louise squealed. “That sounds beyond fantastical! Where is it? Let’s go!”

Mother waved a hand. “Don’t worry,” she said as I began to worry. “It’s just down the beach, and I promised the Coochie boys we would all be there.” She smiled brightly. “I’ve never been to a luau before!”

“Me neither!” Louise said. “Not a real one in Hawaii anyway. Won’t this be fantastically fun?” She turned to me for confirmation, and I enquired as to whether she had been tippling on a batch of early-morning pink drinks.

“Poor Hal and Cal were upset to learn that one of the Smiley Sisters has taken so ill,” Mother explained. “But the show must go on.”

“Must, must, must!” Louise agreed.

“The Holiday Hula could well be their big break,” Tessie continued relentlessly. “I imagine they’ll be practicing all day. They’ll want to do their very best, won’t they?”

I might have whimpered, but Wilson reminded me we’d be gone much of the day. “We’re renting a car and exploring the island,” he told the luau enthusiasts. “You ladies care to join us?”

Mother and Louise blinked at each other. “No, thank you,” they said in unison, and Louise mumbled something about having some work to catch up on.

“Edits,” she said. “Roslynn Mayweather sent me her latest manuscript right before I left New York. The Sultan’s Secret—isn’t that a fantastical title?” She pointed toward the swimming pool pavilion. “I’ll be reading by the pool most of the day. What about you, Tessie?”

Mother yawned dramatically. “I think I’ll take a nice long nap on my porch this morning. Surfing yesterday just about tuckered me out. And I’ll want to be well-rested for today’s lesson, won’t I?

“Three o’clock sharp,” Chris called from the edge of the patio. “You geezers are gonna catch some waves if it kills me.” He pulled up a chair and sat down between my mother and his father. “Nice shirt, Dad.”

While the rest of us frowned at Wilson’s latest purchase, this one boasting an assortment of poodles in strange yet eye-opening colors, Chris hailed the waitress and ordered three eggs over easy and half a dozen pancakes with coconut syrup.

Faye, the morning waitress who was considerably older than anyone else on the staff, shook her head at me. “I have a son about his age, too. And just as thin. The kid eats like a horse.”

Chris was quick to point out he is not my son. “Oh, and can I have a few strips of bacon with that, Faye?”

“Baby, you can have anything you want,” she said as she watched him finish what was left in his father’s coffee cup.

“Why’s the coffee so good here?” he asked her.

“Kona,” several of us answered. Faye promised to bring back a fresh pot and left for the kitchen.

“The coconut syrup is rad stuff, too,” Chris informed us. “I can’t believe you guys missed Buster’s pancakes yesterday.”

Personally, I couldn’t believe Chris had actually managed to eat breakfast the day before. But apparently he had bonded with Faye over a plate of pancakes while we geezers had been sleeping in and recovering from our harrowing night of murder and mayhem.

“What’s the plan for today?” he asked and immediately delved on into his own itinerary. “I’m renting some snorkeling equipment from Folly Rentals first thing. After that I think I’ll try windsurfing. A guy down the beach said he’d show me how. Then I need to teach you guys to surf.” He turned to his father. “And afterwards we can hike up Maka Koa Trail and find that cave we missed yesterday. You game?”

While my mother, Louise, and I muttered something about our own rather sedate plans, Wilson studied his son. “You’re avoiding Vega,” he said, and Chris almost fell off his chair.

Wilson waited patiently for his son to get re-settled. In the meantime, Faye returned with fresh coffee and refilled our cups. He continued to wait patiently until she was out of earshot.

“Vega,” he repeated in case anyone had lost their train of thought. “He talked to you yesterday, without my knowing. Am I right?”

“Maybe.” Chris stirred his coffee, even though he took his black, like his father.

“When, where, and about what?” Wilson persisted.

Chris dropped the spoon. “He tracked me down last night at Cabana Bananas. It’s where Emi works. I was keeping her company, okay?”

“And Vega just happened to show up?”

“It was no big deal.”

Wilson raised an eyebrow. “You’re not that stupid.”

“No, he isn’t,” my mother agreed. “Chris, honey, you should tell your father what Captain Vega said. You know, what we discussed last night?”

“Mother!” I exclaimed. “Do not tell me you two were in bed together again?”

“It wasn’t like that!” the culprits said in unison.

Chris went back to stirring his coffee. “Vega says I had a motive to kill Davy,” he mumbled.

“What!?” several of us asked.

“Because Emi dated him,”

“What!?” we said.

“But it was a long time ago, okay? Last summer, even.” He turned to his father. “Emi has no idea how he found out, but Vega knew all about it. The guy’s delusional, Dad. He kept insisting I’m jealous or something.”

Wilson tried some deep breathing exercises as his son continued, “I kept saying I only just met Emi. And Emi kept saying she never even liked Davy. He was too old. She only went out with him twice. She was trying to get his Pele’s Melees recipe. Her boss promised her a bonus if she could get the recipe.”

“Did she?” I asked.

“Did she what?”

“Get the recipe,” Louise said. “Because if she did, Ki needs it. Desperately!”

“That’s Buster’s brother, right?” Chris asked. “Vega kept lecturing me about how hard he works around here.”

I rolled my eyes. “The only thing Ki Okolo works hard at is insulting the guests.”

“I know what I heard, Jessie. Believe it or not, Captain Vega had my full attention.”

Louise let out an exasperated sigh. “Sooo? Did Emi get the pink drink recipe, or did she not?”

“Not. Davy wouldn’t give it to her, since she wouldn’t give him—” Chris looked at my mother—“something else.” He turned to his father. “But there’s no way I was jealous of the guy. I hardly knew him, right?”

“Vega agree with your assessment?” Wilson asked.

Chris blinked twice. “No,” he said quietly, and Wilson groaned.

“Come on, Dad.” Rye Junior tried looking cheerful. “Vega won’t really arrest me. I didn’t do it. Cops don’t put innocent people in prison for murder, right? Only the guilty, right? I mean think about—” He stopped short, and for some reason his gaze fell on me. “Think about it,” he repeated, and his father groaned again.

***

I do believe we were all thinking about it, searching the depths of our coffee cups, when Faye returned. “You folks worried about Vega?” she asked, and all heads snapped upward.

She seemed not to notice, however, since she was too busy juggling the various components of Chris’s breakfast. “I had Buster crisp up the bacon just like you asked yesterday,” she said as she put down a large plate overflowing with food. “And here’s some extra coconut syrup for those pancakes.” She set down a small pitcher, a bowl of butter patties, and lastly, an empty coffee cup.

Her hands free, she placed them on her hips and looked at each of us in turn. “Well?” she said.

Wilson was the first to catch on. He jumped up to offer her a chair, and by the time she sat down, the rest of us had figured it out also. I poured coffee into the empty cup, and after asking Faye about the specifics, Louise added cream and sugar.

Chris glanced up from his eggs. “What’s going on?”

“You’re eating your breakfast, and I’m talking to your papa.” Faye took a sip of her coffee and turned to Wilson. “Well?” she said.

He tilted his head toward Chris. “Vega’s after him.”

“I know that. Everyone knows that. We also know you’re an ex-cop.”

“Off-duty cop,” Wilson corrected.

“But I imagine you’re interested in the outcome here?”

He nodded, and they both looked at Chris, who had just remembered about the extra syrup. Wilson rolled his eyes and returned to Faye. “I take it you knew Davy?”

“Baby, everyone on Halo Beach knew Davy Atwell. His Pele’s Melees were legendary. And he was a ladies’ man. And he was an Atwell.”

“That significant?” Wilson asked, and Faye rubbed her index finger and thumb together.

“Davy Atwell was the sole beneficiary of the Atwell family fortune,” she informed us.

Louise sat forward. “How about you?”

“Do I look an heiress to you?”

“I think Louise meant, did you date Davy?” I said. “You say he was a ladies’ man?”

Faye scowled. “Do I look like Davy’s type? He was little young for me, don’t you think?”

“Never stopped Jessie,” Chris managed between bites.

“Can we get back to the murder?” Wilson asked.

A fine idea, but a particularly sour chord at the Song of the Sea distracted our attention. The Hoochie Coochies were attempting a rather unusual interpretation of “The Little Drummer Boy.”

“Don’t you need a drum for that one?” Faye asked.

“Davy,” Wilson reminded her.

“Liked the ladies and vice versa. Word is he wooed many a girl with those pink drinks.”

Chris actually looked up from his pancakes. “What girls.”

“Tourists mostly.”

“What about his co-workers?” Wilson asked. “Rachel Tate?”

Faye hesitated before answering. “That’s what Rachel was hoping, but I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “But I imagine Davy had no problem mixing business with pleasure.”

“What about Bethany?” Wilson asked. “Anything there?”

“Between her and Davy?” Faye shook her head. “Bethany’s way too smart. And she’s way too busy for that kind of thing.”

“She does seem to work hard,” I suggested.

“Baby, you don’t know the half of it. That girl’s the reason this place is still in business. She helped the Okolo brothers hire a whole new staff after everyone quit.”

“They quit when the grandfather died, right?” Wilson asked.

“Everyone but Davy did. That’s when Buster hired Rachel, and Ki hired Bethany. And Bethany hired everyone else—the cook, the maids, me.” Faye smiled. “She’s one smart cookie.”

I asked why everyone had quit when Buster and Ki took over, but Faye claimed not to know. “I’m one of the new people, remember.”

“Take a wild guess,” Wilson tried.

“Well,” she said and gazed at the gurgling fountain. “Pono Okolo was a great guy by all accounts. But just look at his grandsons. Ki’s a grouch. And Buster?” She shifted focus toward The Big House and lowered her voice. “He’s nice enough, but maybe not so bright.”