Dying for a Daiquiri (18 page)

“Maybe it’s her method of escape. Burying her head in a spreadsheet could be an accountant’s security blanket.”

“Humph.”

The noise level increased as we drew closer to the pavilion. The structure resembled a gazebo on steroids and could easily provide enough room for several hundred attendees. I didn’t see any TV cameras so this must be an informal pre-taping gathering. As we drew closer to the grand pavilion, I noticed a familiar face.

“It’s Amanda, the naturalist from the
Sea Jinx
,” I said to the others. “I wonder what she’s doing here.”

The three of us approached the covered structure.

“Hi, Laurel.” Amanda beamed a wide smile at us. The red hibiscus over her ear matched the short polka-dot sundress she wore. “Are you involved in the show?”

I shook my head. “My sister-in-law works at Koffee Land so we stopped to see her. What about you? How come you’re not out on the
Sea Jinx
today?”

“I’m one of the contestants on
The Bride and the Bachelor
.” She bounced up and down in excitement, her long blonde curls and bosom bouncing in tandem. If they judged the contestants on bounciness, she was a shoe-in.

“Congratulations,” I said. “So what’s the show about?”

Amanda put her hand over her heart. “The girls are all competing for the bachelor, Jacques Andre Cointreau.”

Stan whistled. “Isn’t he the grandson of Philippe Cointreau?”

She smiled, bubbling over with youthful optimism. “Yes, we have so much in common. I think we’re a perfect match.”

“That hunk won the
Survivor, the Amazing Race
, and
Dancing with the Stars
,” Stan said. “He is a fox-trotting, sea-faring survivalist. You go get him, girl.”

She giggled. “I’ll give it my best. I just hope I can measure up to the other contestants.” She glanced around the pavilion, and I followed her gaze.

Talk about island beauty. Every girl in the room was gorgeous and dressed to kill. But Amanda was equally lovely, and I admired the way she used simple native flowers to accessorize. Some of the women glittered more than the showroom at Tiffany.

“We just learned Keiki was a contestant too,” I said. “It’s so tragic what happened to her.”

Amanda shook her head. “I still can’t believe she’s gone. We’ve known each other since high school. It would have been so much fun to be on the show together. I heard the police finally arrested her killer so that’s good.”

“They did not arrest the right man,” Mother shouted, surprising me with her intensity.

Amanda edged away from our group. If the young girl thought my mother was intimidating now, she should try negotiating a contract with the Queen of Centurion Realty.

“The man they arrested is my brother,” I explained to the frightened young woman. “We’re all upset because we know he didn’t do it. We just need to prove it to the police before we leave the island Sunday. That gives us only two more days. Do you have any idea who would want to kill Keiki?”

She shook her curls, her eyes welling with tears. “Poor Keiki. You probably heard what happened to her former boyfriend, Joey?” She looked at us and we all nodded. “Well, his brother, Timmy, hated Keiki. I was on the
Sea Jinx
one night when he threatened her, although I can’t imagine him following through with it.”

“How about any new boyfriends?” Stan asked. “We heard she started dating an older man.”

She pondered our question. “Keiki never mentioned anything to me. Although I did see her with––,” Amanda stopped and eyed the ground. “It was probably nothing.”

“No clue is unimportant when it comes to my son,” Mother said using a gentler tone this time. We didn’t want to frighten the young woman away if she possessed some valuable information.

Amanda toed her sandal in a circular motion in the grass, seemingly reluctant to disclose one of her friend’s possible suitors. A tall woman with a clipboard and a frown called out Amanda’s name, beckoning at her.

“I’ve gotta go,” she said.

“Please tell us what you were going to say,” I pleaded with her. She waved back at the other woman indicating she was on her way.

“Okay, I saw Steve and Keiki together a few times. But it was almost a month ago and probably didn’t mean anything. “She blasted a Crest-white smile at me. “Besides, I think Steve really likes you, Laurel.”

The clipboard-carrying woman called Amanda’s name again, angrily tapping her foot as she glared at our group.

“Sorry,” Amanda said. “I really must go.”

“Good luck, dear.” Mother patted the young woman on the arm.

Amanda smiled a thanks and scurried away to join the others. Mother and I chuckled as we left the pavilion.

“Ah, youth, the stars are aligned,” I said, “therefore it is my fate––”

“To meet my mate,” Stan sang out. “Hey, she’s a cute kid. I hope this show works out for her. Everyone deserves to meet their Mr. Right.”

My lower lip trembled, and I sensed a lone tear rolling down my cheek. Everyone does deserve to meet Ms. or Mr. Right. But once the initial romance wears off, how do you keep a relationship going strong? The unhealthy relationship of my brother and his wife saddened me, as did the memory of my own broken marriage. How could the joining of two people in love lead to so much disappointment? And tears.

And as I was discovering on this island––betrayal!

We continued on the path that led uphill away from the pavilion toward the vista point. After a short walk, we reached the crest. Two men conversed at the base of a tall tower.

“What a spectacular view,” Mother said.

She wasn’t kidding. A lush green valley surrounded us, the undulating hills covered with tall Ohia and Koa trees, abundant ferns and an occasional zip-line tower. In the distance, the ocean sparkled as if diamonds were dancing on the crests of the waves.

We strolled over to check out the view from the tower, which was at least forty feet tall.

“This isn’t operational yet,” the shorter man announced. He wore a large diamond stud in one ear and sported dragon tattoos on each of his muscular arms. He and his arms looked vaguely familiar, but since many young men on the island had tattoos, I doubted his was the only fire-breathing arm in Hawaii.

“We were just admiring the scenery,” I said. “Will the zip-line be running soon?”

“We’re testing it today,” said the other worker. “It needs to be ready by Monday for the reality show. After that, it will open to the public. You should try it sometime.”

I looked at the belts, hooks and pulleys intended to haul a person a thousand-plus feet to the next tower with a mere two-hundred-foot drop over the valley below.

“That small contraption can hold me?” Both men laughed at my skeptical tone.

“Yes, miss,” replied the older, heavy-set man. “Trust me. If it can hold us, it can hold you.”

Stan moved closer to the tower. “Oh, you can ride tandem on this zip-line. That’s a nice feature.”

“The TV show needed to have two people go at the same time, and our boss thought that would be an added attraction. Sometimes people feel more comfortable if they’re zipping next to a friend.”

“Can more than one person ride together on the same line?” I asked.

He nodded. “Sure, you and your mom could ride together as long as your combined weight didn’t exceed 270 lbs.”

Mother glanced at me then shook her head slowly. Was she implying I’d eaten one
malasada
too many for her to feel comfortable flying through the air with me?

“I’ve always wanted to try zip-lining,” Stan said. “How safe is it? Someone mentioned there was an accident here not long ago.”

The men shared a look. The young tattooed fellow was about to speak when the older man laid a hand on his shoulder. “That accident had nothing to do with the safety of these lines. We’re about to take a ride to the next tower now. Stick around and watch.”

The workers climbed four sets of stairs to reach the platform at the top of the tower where a third man waited. Even from this distance, I recognized Henry, their boss, glowering at us as usual.

We watched as they hooked themselves into the harnesses and tested the clamps from the upper line. Henry gave them a thumbs-up, and they took off. They waved back at us as they flew down the line. The smaller, wiry one leaned backward and spread his colorfully inked arms out wide, displaying the familiar “hang loose” Shaka sign so popular in the islands.

“That looks like fun.” Stan’s gaze followed the men’s swift ride across the canyon.

That depends on your definition of “fun.” I’d personally prefer to pull my upper lip over my forehead than go zipping through the air.

“Regan must have an update on Dave by now,” said Mother, all business. “If not, then it’s high time we drive to the detention center and find out what’s going on ourselves.”

We strolled past the pavilion, which was filled with more estrogen per foot than most men would want to handle. That Jacques Cointreau must be one hearty dude.

I couldn’t imagine competing for a guy on national television. It was hard enough dating someone without having millions of viewers watching your every move.

When we arrived at the center, Tiffany was busy ringing up coffee purchases. Mother and Stan needed to visit the restrooms so they headed in that direction. I knew the offices were located in the back of the building, so I decided to find out if Regan had an update yet.

I walked through the closed back door into a short hallway. The first office, dark and empty, was presumably Victor’s. In the next, Regan sat behind a functional modern desk, hands clasped under her chin, peering at rows of tiny numbers on her computer screen. I knocked on her door, and she jumped.

“Laurel, you startled me. What are you doing back here?”

“I wanted to see if you’d heard anything new about Dave.”

“The attorney called a little while ago.” Regan leaned back in her chair and rubbed both eyes.

I sat in the one extra wooden chair in her tiny office. “This has to be so hard on you.”

“It’s a nightmare. In my heart I know Dave didn’t do it, but then sometimes I wonder…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes widened. “I wonder if my husband did kill Keiki.”

I jumped up, put my hands on her desk and leaned over, our chins practically touching. “You can’t be serious. You believe your husband––my brother–– could commit murder? You two really do have a screwed-up marriage.”

Regan shrank back in her chair. “I don’t know what to think about my marriage. I can’t remember the last time Dave confided in me about anything.” She opened a drawer, grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. “And it’s been months since we’ve made love.”

Okay, this was awkward. Why did all of my family members feel obligated to share the details of their sex life, or lack thereof, with me?

Regan cleared her throat. “I better get back to work.”

“Will we see you tonight?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know how late I’ll be working. I’ve taken over some of Victor’s duties during his absence. We’ve had issues with our crops due to the borer beetle invasion, so we don’t have nearly the quantity of beans we thought we’d have for sale. Between Ritz’s spending for all the improvements and less coffee revenue than I anticipated, our bottom line isn’t looking good. I’ll be glad when Victor returns. Maybe he can figure out why there’s such a shortage.”

“That reminds me, Victor and Kiana invited us to Keiki’s memorial service. Are you going?”

Her face paled. “I suppose I have to or Victor will be offended. I’m sure Ritz and Pilar will attend as well. As for Dave…who knows if he’ll still be in jail or…?”

My cell rang. I picked up, hoping the caller would have an answer to Regan’s question.

“Hey, Steve. Do you have any news?”

“I do, but where are you?”

“We’re still at Koffee Land. I’m in Regan’s office right now.”

He paused for a few seconds. “Call me back when Regan isn’t around.”

I glanced at my sister-in-law who was listening intently to my end of the conversation.

“Sure, we’re leaving soon. Thanks for the call.”

Regan interrupted before I clicked to end the conversation. “Does Steve have any news?”

“Not really. He wanted to see how we were doing. I should leave you to your work.”

“Okay, I’ll keep you posted and please do the same if you hear something first.”

I hugged her good-bye then bolted down the hall and out the door leading into the center. Stan and my mother stood by the register chatting with Tiffany. I joined them.

“Do you have any news about Dave?” Mother’s voice cracked slightly and she dropped the bottle of passion fruit jelly she’d been holding. Tiffany caught the jar before the sticky substance could crash and explode all over the counter.

“I’ll update you in the car.” She paid the bill and I scurried out the door, with Stan and Mother on my footsteps. I was anxious to call Steve back and learn why he wanted Regan kept in the dark.

I dialed from the parking lot.

“Is it safe to talk?” Steve asked.

“I’m with Mother and Stan, getting in the car. Why are you acting so mysterious?”

“Try to stay calm and don’t let your mother get freaked out.”

If Steve thought that comment would calm me, he was wrong, because I was the one starting to freak.

“Dave will be released in an hour or so,” he said.

“That’s terrific news. But why can’t Regan…” I could feel my mother’s eyes boring into my head. “Do we need to pick him up?”

“No, I’ll get him. Basically, after talking to the police, Dave doesn’t want to be with Regan.”

Sometimes I’m quick. Sometimes not. “Huh?”

“He’s afraid to be with her. Thinks she really could be Keiki’s killer.”

It was a good thing Stan was at the wheel, because Steve’s remark would have sent me off the road with the convertible wrapped around a huge banyan tree.

“Laurel, are you there?” I could hear Steve yelling. My brain felt as frozen as the hand clutching my cell.