Deadly in High Heels (8 page)

"Not
that
night?" I asked jumping on the wording. "Had she snuck out before?"

"No," Arkansas started, then that lip got sucked back into her mouth again.

"Look, I'm not one of the pageant directors," I told her, trying to ease her concern. "You don't need to worry about me telling anyone or getting the other girls in trouble."

"Well," she said, "there was that one night. It was when we first got here. I did hear somebody out in the hall. After curfew. I heard a door opening and then closing. And then footsteps in the hallway. I guess they were leading to the elevator."

"But you didn't see who went out?"

Arkansas shook her head again. "No, sorry. I honestly didn't really think anything of it. I thought maybe one of the girls was having trouble with her room and had to go back down to the front desk or something."

"In that case you would have heard them coming right back, wouldn't you?"

Arkansas nodded. "I guess. But I didn't. For like an hour."

I raised an eyebrow.

"I have kind of insomnia," she admitted. "Sometimes I have a really hard time sleeping. That night the sound of the door opening woke me up. I tried to get back to sleep for about an hour before I finally took a sleeping pill. It was just starting to kick in when I heard a door click shut again. I'm assuming it was the girl coming back."

My turn to chew on my lip. So one of the girls had disappeared for an hour. Had it been Jennifer? And if so, where had she gone? Had she been meeting someone on the beach that night too? The same someone who'd ultimately killed her?

"What about the night that Jennifer died?" I asked. "Did you hear anyone else leaving?"

She shook her head. "No, not that night. I had trouble sleeping that night too, so I took a sleeping pill early. I was out like a light."

"So I guess you wouldn't have known it if, say, your roommate had slept through the night or not?"

"Whitney? Well, I don't know. I mean I guess she…" She trailed off, her eyes suddenly going big. "Oh my gosh, you don't think Whitney could have had anything to do with Jennifer's death, do you?"

"Do you?" I asked

"No way." Arkansas' head swung back and forth again. If she wasn't careful that sucker was gonna twist right off of her shoulders. "Look, Whitney is driven, I'll give you that. But she is a total professional. You should see her stuff in our room. It's completely tidy, all lined up with, like, military precision in her makeup drawer. There's no way Whitney would do anything like this."

"Okay," I said reassuring her. However I noted Arkansas had just admitted she hadn't known Whitney more than a few days.

I spent the rest of the afternoon fitting other various girls for their shoes and trying to make up for all of the time lost the day before. Getting ready for a live production like this was hectic enough, but doing it a day behind schedule was beyond hectic. Laforge ordered boxed dinners in for everyone involved, and by 10 o'clock that night I was ready to drop and was seeing high heels even when I closed my eyes. Laforge finally called it a night, sending everyone off to their rooms with a promise that we would be heading out at a bright and early 6 AM the next morning for an on-location shoot at Iolani Palace, which would air during the televised pageant's opening credits.

I groaned, wondering why someone hadn't taken
him
out instead.

I trudged up to my room, changed into a pair of capri-pant sleepers and a hot pink tank top, and pulled up Ramirez's cell number on my phone.

Two rings and he picked up. Considering the time difference, he must have been waiting up for my call. A thought that filled me with warm fuzzies.

"Hey, babe," he answered.

The tension in my shoulders immediately eased at the familiar sound of his voice.

"Hey, yourself."

"How's my favorite girl doing?" he asked.

I couldn't help smiling. "Good. But busy."

"With…?" I could hear the suspicion loud and clear.

"You don't trust me, do you?" I asked.

Ramirez chuckled on the other end. "Honey, I'm not that naïve."

If I hadn't been lying to him I might've felt insulted. As it was, I felt more warm fuzzies that he knew me so well. And loved me anyway.

"Laforge has us working double time," I said, being 100% truthful now. "We lost a lot of time yesterday, so we worked straight through dinner."

"Geez, how long does it take to put some shoes on?"

My turn to laugh. "Oh, honey, you know as much about designing shoes as I do about the Stanley Cup."

"I'm impressed," Ramirez said. "You can name a cup."

"I'm learning," I said, stifling a yawn.

"Am I boring you?" Ramirez asked.

"Sorry, it's just been a long day," I said.

"I understand. Hey, get some sleep, babe. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Kiss Livvie and Max for me?"

"Will do," Ramirez promised. "Love you. Miss you." And then he blew kisses into the phone. Very not-alpha cop. Very endearing. I couldn't help the smile taking over my face and wishing just a tiny bit that I wasn't here in paradise but back home in his arms…which, in truth, was its own kind of paradise.

"Miss you, too," I said as I hung up.

I set my phone on the nightstand beside the bed. I leaned over and turned off the lights and was just snuggling into my pillow thinking warm happy thoughts about my husband when I heard it.

A noise out in the hallway. The tell-tale sound of a large, fireproof, hotel room door opening.

My eyes popped open, and I glanced at my bedside clock. Just past midnight. I quickly ran to the door of my own room and opened it a crack, peeking out. I was just in time to see the elevator doors closing on a woman in black slingback flats and a little black dress.

I paused just long enough to grab flip-flops and a sweatshirt, shoving my room key and phone into the pockets, before I slipped of out of my room after her.

This time I was going to catch that beauty queen in the act.

I ran to the elevators and stabbed the down button. There were three separate sets of elevator doors. I'd seen the girl go down in the center one. I stood nervously tapping my foot in my last minute flip-flops as I willed the doors in carriages number one and three to open. Finally number one did, and I ran inside pushing the L for the lobby. I crossed my fingers hoping that nobody on the floors below me needed a ride down. It was going to be a miracle if I could catch up with the woman in the little black dress in the lobby as it was. If I had to stop for three or four flights of tourists, I was sunk.

Luckily the gods of following queens were with me as my elevator shot straight to the bottom floor, opening off the lobby with a subdued
bing
. I jumped out of the carriage, my eyes whipping back and forth for any sign of the LBD. Unfortunately at this time of night, the lobby was far from empty, as vacationers arriving after their red-eye flights mingled with guests dressed to the nines went for a night on the town. I was sorely out of place in my pajamas and clutched my sweatshirt closer around my middle, hoping no one associated with the pageant saw me.

I was just about to give up when I saw a woman dressed almost as out of place as I was. It was the little black dress and black slingbacks I'd seen disappearing. However she also had a large black hat, black sunglasses, and a pale gray scarf that was tied over her head. As far as disguises went it was excellent. I could tell she was female, but which one of our female competitors I'd be hard-pressed to come up with. She quickly strode out of the hotel doors, down the paved pathway toward the Lost Aloha bar. I ran after her, doing a stop-start-stop-start thing as I ducked behind a palm, then behind a rather portly man heading toward the doors, and again behind a luggage rack once I got outside. I wasn't sure I was doing a great job of surveillance. If LBD woman turned around she had a pretty good chance of spotting me. Fortunately for me she seemed to have a one-track mind, and she made purposeful strides forward. But instead of continuing on her path toward the Lost Aloha, she veered left off the path and toward the beach.

I have to say I was pretty darn impressed with her ability to walk on the sand in her slingbacks. I saw now why she opted for flats even though they completely clashed with the outfit. Luckily my flip-flops did the job as well. I waited until she was a few paces ahead of me, and then I followed as closely as I could, trying to keep to the lush tropical plants bordering the beach rather than the wide open sand dunes. She went several yards down, and the farther she got from the resort, the harder it was to see her. There was just the tiniest sliver of moon in the sky, providing precious little light. I could still see the lights of the tiki bar and the resort in the distance, but they did little to illuminate LBD Woman.

Thankfully, they also did little to illuminate me as I crept along the bushes, praying that I didn't encounter any local animals nesting there. Did they have rats in Hawaii?

Luckily before we got completely away from civilization, LBD Woman abruptly stopped. It took my eyes a few moments of adjusting to the darkness before I realized why.

There was another figure on the beach.

I crept a little closer, trying to distinguish if this one was male or female. Unfortunately they stood with their backs toward me, facing the ocean, so I had zero chance of seeing faces. I could just barely make out voices over the roar of the tide. The woman in the dress's voice was high and almost frantic. The other was deep and low. If I had to guess, I'd say the second figure was male.

I hoped the sound of the ocean also masked any rustling sounds I made as I crept closer, ducking down behind the foliage, straining to hear any part of their conversation.

"That was our deal," I heard the female voice say.

I couldn't quite make out the man's response, but his words came quickly in a sort of growl. Whatever he said, he wasn't happy

"Don't think I won't do it," the woman threatened, her voice louder this time.

"You can do whatever the hell you want. But you'd better keep your mouth shut."

I raised an eyebrow. Now this was getting interesting. A particularly large wave crashing on the beach swallowed the first part of the woman's response, but I caught the tail end.

"…again with Jennifer."

My ears perked up. Whoever they were, they were talking about the dead girl. Suddenly I wondered if I was looking at Jennifer's killer…Or killers? I tried to lean in a little bit closer and caught part of the man's response.

"No one better know about this."

"What they know is up to you, but I can promise you this," the woman said. Unfortunately the rest of her statement was again swallowed by a wave coming up on the shore.

Dammit. I had to get a little bit closer. Just getting snippets of their conversation, my imagination running wild to fill in the blanks. I took a step closer toward the couple…

And heard the sound of Madonna's "Vogue."

I quickly stuck my hand in my pocket and fumbled around for the off button on my phone.

"What was that?" the woman asked, whipping around.

I dove into a naupaka bush, making myself as small as possible. Hoping they thought I was a rat. (Oh, God, let there be no real rats in this bush!)

"What was what?" the man shouted back

"I heard something. I heard Madonna music."

"Probably just some kids back at the resort."

"Look, I have to go," the woman told him. Then I heard rustling, which I presumed was her walking away. As much as I was dying to know her identity I didn't dare pop up from my hiding place now. I waited a three-count, and then I peeked my head over the bushes to make sure they were both gone.

The beach was empty.

I slowly untangled myself from the naupaka then sprinted back to the resort. My only hope of finding out the identity of the mysterious couple was to get back up to our floor before my missing queen could reach her room. I ran around the back of the hotel, through the poolside entrance instead of the front. I practically slammed into the bank of elevators, timing on my side as they were just opening to let off a group of men in duck shirts. I jumped in, hit the button for the twelfth floor, and did an antsy foot-to-foot dance as I watched the numbers of the floors light up.

We finally hit the twelfth, and the elevator doors slid open.

Just as a door down the hall slammed shut.

I quickly moved toward it. Room 614. And since one of its occupants was currently deceased, I knew exactly who had been sneaking out of it tonight.

Desi, Miss New Mexico, was the woman in the little black dress.

*

I slipped back into my room, my mind reeling with new theories. Had Desi killed Jennifer? And, if so, who was the man she'd been meeting on the beach? If Desi had wanted Jennifer dead, it seemed like it would've been a lot easier to kill her in the privacy of their shared room than to lure her outside. Or, for that matter, to walk downstairs with her under the guise of friendship. And how did the mystery man on the beach fit into it?

I took my sweatshirt off as I got back into bed, pulling my phone out of my pocket as I did. I looked down at the readout to see who the offending caller had been who had almost blown my cover.

Mom.

She'd not only called, but sent a text when she hadn't been able to get through. I swiped my finger across the screen to see her message.

Cleverly ornery, will salve you, juju classing fort Cummings

What the…? I shook my head. I was too exhausted to try to decipher what Mom's auto text was trying to say. Whatever it was, I was sure she'd call me about it in the morning.

*

The next day started way too early. The late-night excursion onto the beach coupled with Laforge's 6 AM call-time had me doing a zombie impression. Somehow I stumbled downstairs to the Tropical Tryst and downed about a gallon of coffee before finding my way to the front of the hotel where we were to meet before being bussed to our location shoot.

Sitting outside of the hotel lobby doors at the curb were two large luxury tour buses. Beside them stood a line of beauty queens, each toting a rolling suitcase that I knew contained their arsenal of makeup, hair products, and emergency changes of clothing. At the head of the line stood Laforge, a tablet in his hands, his fingers gliding over the screen in rapid succession as he checked contestants in.

He was dressed in another pair of skintight pants (I was beginning to wonder if he had stock in them), though today he had chosen a bright yellow color that reminded me of SpongeBob. He'd paired them with a silk, polo style shirt in bright red with turquoise hibiscus flowers in a large, retina-burning print. He was again wearing his signature oversized sunglasses, and today he was adorned in a straw panama hat in a sparkling white that matched his white loafers sans socks. I would say this for him: at least he wouldn't be easy to lose on our field trip.

I could see the judges already seated on one bus and Marco standing in the line, sucking down the last of his coffee from a paper cup. I quickly joined him.

"Good God, doll, what happened to you?" he asked when he spied me.

"Good morning to you, too, Marco." I paused. "Is it that bad?"

"Honey those bags under your eyes are definitely over the airline weight limit."

"I had a long night."

I filled Marco in on what I'd seen last night and Desi's late-night escapades on the beach.

By the time I was done Marco's face was stuck in a perpetual shut-the-front-door expression of disbelief, and we were at the front of the line, stepping onto the bus.

"Who do you think she was meeting?" he whispered, his eye shooting around the bus's occupants as if the answer lay there.

Which, honestly, it very well could.

"I don't know," I whispered back, doing the same as my eyes settled on Desi's brunette head. She was seated halfway down the bus next to Miss Delaware. "But as soon as I have a chance to get Desi alone, I intend to find out."

"Excuse me," Laforge said as he approached us, tablet in hand. "Are you planning to accompany us on this official pageant personnel excursion?" He gave Marco a pointed look, starting at the top of his spiked pink hair and slowly moving down his frame to take in today's outfit. He had on a pair of hot pink booty shorts in a cropped length normally only seen on MTV. Above that he was wearing one of the Hawaiian printed shirts he'd picked up on our shopping excursion earlier, a pink and baby blue printed top that was tight enough to have been painted on him. (If I had to guess, I'd say it had been made for 10-year-old girls.) The entire outfit ended in a pair of vintage 1980s hot pink jellies, which encased his pink painted toenails.

"Are you saying I shouldn't?" Marco asked putting his hands on his hips. His eyes narrowed at Laforge.

"I'm just saying that you are not on my list." And the tone in his voice didn't sound the least bit upset about it.

"Ah, Marco is actually my assistant," I said quickly jumping in before Marco could respond.

While I couldn't actually see Laforge's eyes behind his oversized sunglasses, I could almost feel them narrowing in his posture. "I'm sorry, but the pageant does not have it in its budget to pay for an assistant for you, Maddie."

I shook my head. "No need to pay for him. He's a volunteer assistant."

Laforge looked from Marco to me and back again. Luckily he had a bus full of giggling, easily distracted beauty queens and an airtight shooting schedule to keep, and finally he nodded. "Fine," he huffed then turned on his heel and walked off the bus doing a final check of his tablet.

I grabbed Marco by the arm and pulled him into two empty seats near the back of the bus.

"I bet it was Laforge on the beach last night," Marco grumbled.

I turned on him. "Why would you say that?"

Marco shrugged. "Well doesn't he look a little worse for the wear this morning? I mean, did you see that hideous outfit? Talk about loud."

Considering Marco's clothes were practically screaming, I wasn't sure I should comment on that.

*

The Iolani Palace was once the home to the United States' only royalty, King Kalakaua. Now a national historic landmark, it played host to tourists from around the world who visited the restored first and second floors, each decorated in colorful themes, took in the collections of historical Hawaiian artifacts, and strolled the lush landscaping of the grounds. Probably the most not-to-be-missed part of the palace, at least according to the travel website Marco pulled up on his phone as we rode into downtown Honolulu, was the famous statue of King Kamehameha I, erected just in front of the palace. As our buses pulled up, I could see a camera crew had set up on the grounds near the outdoor Coronation Pavilion, a large domed structure sporting ornate Roman columns and official crests.

We quickly filed out of the buses amidst Laforge barking orders, and the queens wasted no time in pulling out their powder compacts, lipstick, and hairspray, putting their last-minute touches on before going on camera. Dana and the other judges were ushered over to a trio of seats under a large tree in the shade to watch the proceedings. Boom microphones, bright lights, large white reflectors, and a slew of cameras descended on the Coronation Pavilion.