Dying for a Daiquiri (15 page)

“Nice try. Now please stay out of trouble.”

Yeah, yeah. Heard that refrain before. “It would be a lot easier if …,” the phone clicked and I found myself talking to the dial tone, “you were here with me.”

Liz had arranged the perfect distraction for our group tonight. One of the largest hotels on the island boasted not only seven restaurants, but guests could travel via electric boat over the resort’s extensive waterways. The Grand Canal–Hawaiian style.

Once the five of us arrived at the hotel, I perked up. If Ben were here, my son would have described the resort as ginormous. Four different pools offered swim-up bars, cave-like grottos, waterfalls and meandering streams. Dolphins chased each other around a large pond, every now and then leaping into the air and thrilling the hotel guests.

We strolled down long open-air corridors lined with multi-million-dollar paintings, beautiful vases from various Chinese dynasties and an array of ancient statues. I lagged behind the others, stopping to read the commentary on a bronze statue representing the Hindu goddess Kali, a twenty-four-armed wonder. I eyed my glossy coral-tipped digits and calculated what a manicure would cost the multiple-armed goddess.

My hand was quickly swallowed by a much larger, stronger hand.

I glanced up to see that Steve had joined us. He flashed his body-tingling smile and tilted his head at Kali. “Ever wish you had an extra couple dozen hands and arms?”

My mind raced as I analyzed the benefits of owning so many appendages. The negatives far surpassed the positives so I shook my head. “Two arms and two legs are more than sufficient for someone as uncoordinated as I am.”

Steve squeezed my hand. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Laurel. You have a lot going for you––you’re attractive, smart and fun. That’s why I like hanging out with you.”

Responding to compliments is not my forte so I switched directions. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a sunset sail?”

“When they predicted another storm tonight, we cancelled the trip. I didn’t want to worry about anyone else falling overboard.”

Or anyone else being
pushed.

“I’m keeping an eye on you tonight. There are too many bodies of water on the hotel grounds for someone with your propensity for falling in.” Steve winked, but I sensed an undercurrent of concern. Maybe last night’s kiss was more than just relief his best friend’s sister hadn’t drowned on his watch.

After my irritating phone conversation with Tom, it was nice to have an appreciative male by my side.

“How do you like life on the island?” I asked. “Was it difficult to adapt from your previous career?”

“Not really. I grew up near the Finger Lakes area in upstate New York so I spent my high school summers crewing for some of the locals. Owning a boat seemed natural once I relocated here. Unfortunately, big boats don’t come cheap. Plus, I moved here at the peak of the market. Tourism dropped dramatically after 2008, and it still hasn’t fully recovered. I love what I’m doing, but it’s definitely been a financial struggle.”

I smiled sympathetically. My own California residence was still underwater figuratively although not literally. In Hawaii, which was prone to tsunamis, hurricanes and earthquakes, either version was conceivable.

We caught up to the others at the boat stop. Shortly after, our boat glided on its rails down to a Japanese restaurant known for its fabulous sushi creations. We waited ten minutes for Dave and Regan to show up then decided to go ahead without them. The speed and dexterity with which the chef sliced and diced with his perfectly honed blades was impressive, but I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side.

Despite the tranquil atmosphere in the restaurant, I sensed the topic of Keiki’s murder was never far from anyone’s thoughts. Once the chef departed to show off at another table, my mother moved it front and center.

“Steve, my daughter almost drowned after getting pushed off your boat last night. Who do you think did it?”

Mother’s questions were even more pointed than the sushi chef’s knives.

Steve gazed at me with concern. “I can’t believe someone intentionally shoved Laurel off the boat but,––”

“I’m fairly certain I was pushed,” I said.

“You don’t think the wind combined with the choppy waves could have sent you overboard?”

“No, I don’t.” Why was it so hard for Steve to believe someone pushed me?

Stan, ever the peacemaker, must have noticed my curt tone. “Let’s assume for the purpose of this discussion that someone pushed Laurel over the railing. Who are the potential suspects?”

“Good point,” added Brian. “How many crew members were there?”

“My usual crew was on board. You met Rafe and Timmy on our snorkeling expedition. Amanda’s our marine expert. We normally have a bartender, but he was sidelined by a car accident, which was why Laurel got drafted to serve drinks. Walea danced and her husband, Henry, and another young guy, Rick, provided the music.”

“Okay, that makes six potentials. What about your passengers? Any possibilities?” Brian asked.

Steve shrugged. “Laurel would have a better idea about that. Did you tick anyone off?”

Excuse me
? I could feel my eyebrows draw together as I shot Steve a look.

“Sorry.” He smiled and rested his hand on mine. “That didn’t come out right. Were there any ornery passengers? Anyone drunk enough to accidentally push you off?”

I nibbled my lower lip as I attempted to picture members of the sailing party from the previous evening.

“A guy from Australia got sort of belligerent when I stopped serving drinks.”

“You know how those Aussies can be,” Steve responded, seeming relieved to point a finger at someone other than his trusted crew.

I wasn’t all that familiar with Aussies other than Hugh Jackman. That adorable Hugh could push me into Moby Dick’s mouth, and I’d still have a major crush on him.

“Walea and Amanda were below deck with the passengers,” I said, “but I have no idea where Rafe and Rick were when I fell overboard. Or Henry. He seemed shaken up when he and Walea saw me at the pier afterward. I suppose the most obvious person is Timmy. He ran away when I called out to him. And when I went below to talk to him earlier that evening, I found him holding some parcels in his hand. He quickly stowed them in a locker.”

“Okay, that’s a clue with a capital C,” Stan said. “He could be smuggling something and was worried you noticed.”

Brian cocked his head. “Aren’t there a lot of issues with drugs being smuggled in and out of the islands, Steve?”

Steve nodded. “It’s a problem, that’s for sure. I hate to think one of my crew is involved in something like that though.”

“Didn’t you say Timmy had a record?” I asked.

“A lot of these kids have something negative in their past. Usually something dumb when they were juveniles. That doesn’t elevate him to drug dealer.”

“I don’t know,” Stan said. “I kind of like him for our killer.”

“Me too,” said Dave, as he and Regan joined our group.

Mother jumped up to hug her eldest and his wife. It was nice to see them together although their body language wouldn’t convince Dr. Phil or anyone else that they were a loving couple.

“So who did you all decide was the killer?” Dave asked. He started to put his arm around Regan then hesitated as if gauging her reaction. It was nice to see her lean in rather than push him away. Maybe this horrible situation would bring them closer.

“Yes, what’s our next step, Madame Detective?” Stan’s grin quickly switched directions into a frown as he stared over my shoulder.

“I think you can leave the next step to us,” said a familiar voice.

I twisted in my seat and met the intense gaze of Detective Lee standing next to a smirking O’Grady. “What brings you here, Detective? Would you care to sample some sushi?”

“No, we’ll leave the sushi for you. We have an arrest to make.”

“It’s about time the police realized Regan didn’t murder Keiki,” Mother said. “Are you here to apologize?”

Detective Lee looked confused for a second, but that didn’t stop him from pulling a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket.

Uh oh. This couldn’t be good.

Regan closed her eyes and lifted her arms, prepared for the worst. The detective surprised us and instead asked my brother to stand. The litany began, “Dave Bingham, you have the right to remain silent….”

Lee had barely begun reciting Miranda rights when Mother shrieked in his ear.

“Stop. He didn’t do it,” she screamed. “I killed Keiki.”

Between Mom claiming to be the killer, Regan crying over Dave’s arrest and Stan’s attempts to secure dozens of takeout boxes for the remains of our dinner, the atmosphere in the Japanese restaurant quickly changed from softly subdued to caterwauling chaos.

Dave remained quiet as Lee cuffed him. He whispered in Steve’s ear then attempted to quiet down our mother.

“Mom, it’s okay, we’ll sort it out at the police station. Settle down.”

I’d never seen my mother so agitated. Not even when five of her escrows all contingent upon one another fell apart. And what was the deal with her claim she was the killer?

She began pounding her fist against Lee’s chest. He calmly placed his hands on her shoulders and said, “Mrs. Bingham, please settle down or I’ll have to arrest you for assault and battery against a police officer.”

She held out both arms. “Take me. I’m ready. Just leave my son alone.”

Good grief. My mother had been watching too many crime shows. Or drunk too much sake.

I grabbed her arm and dragged her away. “Mom, pull yourself together. Let me find out what’s going on.” I plopped her down on a cement bench outside the restaurant and went back into the fray. Briefly. The manager of the restaurant shooed our group toward the door. As far as I knew, they hadn’t given us a bill for our dinner, so peace and tranquility must be more of a priority than profit.

Brian left us to speak with Detective Lee while Detective O’Grady walked ahead with Dave. Even with his arms cuffed behind him, my brother held his head high.

Brian returned to our group, and Regan questioned him. “What did he tell you?”

He shrugged. “Not much. Some new evidence came up that implicated Dave although I have no idea what it is. You need to contact your attorney and have him meet with Dave at the police station tomorrow.”

“What about me?” she asked. “Am I free now?”

Her question surprised me. I would have thought Regan would be more concerned with her husband’s situation, but maybe she needed clarification.

“I guess you’re free, but I’ve never seen a situation where one spouse is arrested for murder and then the other spouse is taken in a few days later.”

Regan perched on a bench, her contemplative expression looking like she was miles away. Or maybe just wishing she was. Tiki torches burning against the backdrop of a purple, pink and orange sky made the setting a natural for romance. But not for a wife who had just seen her husband hauled off by the police.

Regan finally declared she felt too shook up to drive so Steve offered to take her home. One of us could pick up Dave’s car from the hotel the following day.

The occupants of our rental car remained silent as we drove back to our own hotel. My mother’s bizarre reaction to Dave’s arrest had me worried. I could swear from the minute Lee placed the cuffs on Dave’s wrists, her hair had whitened a shade or two. I wished I could beam her husband over from California, not only to provide moral support, but also to give us some professional advice.

Mother and I entered our hotel room. She walked to her bed and flopped down on top of the covers. Directly on the hotel bedspread! Where prior room residents had lain and done who knows what. My mother must be truly upset if she wasn’t worried about catching any
hootchy-kootchy cooties
.

“Mom, do you want me to get you an aspirin? Maybe a cup of tea?” She hadn’t uttered a word since her restaurant outburst. It was the longest my mother had remained silent since she delivered me into the world.

She continued to lie on the bed, eyes closed, arms crossed over her chest.

“Please talk to me. I’m sure the police have made a dreadful mistake,” I said. “It’s not like they’re used to investigating murders on this island. Why don’t you call Robert and see what he recommends?”

She turned her head to the right, undoubtedly to check the time in California. The clock verified it was well after midnight back home.

“It’s too late to call him now.” She blew out a deep sigh. “I feel like such a failure.”

“You? You’re one of the most successful women I know.”

“Successful in real estate. But I’m beginning to think my parenting skills were lacking. First you were a murder suspect, and now Dave’s been arrested. Where did I go wrong?”

I walked over to the bed and kissed her forehead. “This has nothing to do with your parenting. You are a wonderful mother. I still don’t know how you managed to do it all. Let’s concentrate on the facts and see what we can do to solve Keiki’s murder. It’s become obvious the police aren’t going to do a proper job.”

“Your brother has always been kind of bull-headed. But I’m certain he’s not capable of murder.”

“You admit Dave can be a tad strong-willed?” Her statement was almost as surprising as Dave’s arrest.

She smiled. “I know your brother isn’t perfect. I may be a mother, but I have two eyes and ears.”

Hmmm. How many of Dave’s past escapades was my mother aware of? And now that she was sharing, how many of mine? I’d worry about that later. My brother was our top priority for now.

“Why did you tell Detective Lee you killed Keiki?”

She sat up and placed her palms on her cheeks. She looked almost as puzzled as I felt. “I have no idea. Maternal instinct clicking in, I guess.”

“I can understand maternal instinct, but what if Dave turns out to be the killer. How far would you go to protect your son?”