Aloha Betrayed

Manhattans & Murder

Rum & Razors

Brandy & Bullets

Martinis & Mayhem

A Deadly Judgment

A Palette for Murder

The Highland Fling Murders

Murder on the
QE2

Murder in Moscow

A Little Yuletide Murder

Murder at the Powderhorn Ranch

Knock ’Em Dead

Gin & Daggers

Trick or Treachery

Blood on the Vine

Murder in a Minor Key

Provence—To Die For

You Bet Your Life

Majoring in Murder

Destination Murder

Dying to Retire

A Vote for Murder

The Maine Mutiny

Margaritas & Murder

A Question of Murder

Coffee, Tea, or Murder?

Three Strikes and You’re Dead

Panning for Murder

Murder on Parade

A Slaying in Savannah

Madison Avenue Shoot

A Fatal Feast

Nashville Noir

The Queen’s Jewels

Skating on Thin Ice

The Fine Art of Murder

Trouble at High Tide

Domestic Malice

Prescription for Murder

Close-up on Murder

Aloha Betrayed

A
Murder, She Wrote
Mystery

A Novel by Jessica Fletcher & Donald Bain

Based on the Universal Television series created by Peter S. Fischer, Richard Levinson & William Link

AN OBSIDIAN MYSTERY

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street,

New York, New York 10014

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penguin.com

A Penguin Random House Company

First published by Obsidian, an imprint of New American Library,

a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC

Copyright © 2014 Universal City Studios Productions LLLP.
Murder, She Wrote
is a trademark and copyright of Universal Studios. Licensed by NBCUniversal Television Consumer Products Group 2014.

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

OBSIDIAN and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:

Fletcher, Jessica.

Aloha betrayed: a Murder, she wrote mystery: a novel/by Jessica Fletcher, Donald Bain.

pages cm

“Based on the Universal Television series created by Peter S. Fischer, Richard Levinson & William Link.”

ISBN 978-0-698-13727-1

1. Fletcher, Jessica—Fiction. 2. Women novelists—Fiction. I. Bain, Donald, author. II. Murder, she wrote (Television program) III. Title.

PS3552.A376A68 2014

813'.54—dc23 2013043479

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Many people graciously provided us with insight into the unique and lovely Hawaiian island of Maui while we were researching
Aloha Betrayed
,
and we’re grateful to all of them. Becoming conversant in the Hawaiian language wasn’t easy; thank you to those who patiently guided us through it.

Officer Edith Quintero, the community relations officer for the Maui Police Department, gave us considerable time and shared her expertise about how the Maui PD operates. If we’ve taken some liberties with her information, we apologize in advance.

Bill Countryman, cluster general manager of the stunning Wailea Beach Marriott Resort and Spa, not only manages a first-rate resort on Maui; he went out of his way to make our research trip there fruitful and pleasant. Thank you, Bill. And thanks to Bill’s delightful assistant, Keo.

John Finnegan, former New York City detective, now working loss prevention at the Wailea Beach Marriott Resort and Spa, introduced us to the legendary Mike Casicas, former Maui detective, who inspired us to create Mike Kane and who shared a wealth of information about his policing experience on Maui. As both detectives pointed out, there are virtually no murders on the island—although now that Jessica has visited, a dead body is sure to turn up.

And a final shout-out to all the warm and wonderful people we met while on Maui. We thank them all and ask their forbearance for any errors. Just a note: We have taken artistic liberties with parts of Maui geography for the sake of the story, but we promise the island truly is a paradise, and we departed immersed in the “aloha spirit.”

Aloha
—Hawaiian Greeting That Can Mean “Hello”

“L
ook at the enemy
.
It looks beautiful, doesn’t it? But it, like the shiny red apple handed to Snow White, is poisonous. Touch the sap and it will burn you. Ingest it and its cardiac glycosides will impede your heart function. Breathe in the powdery fumes of the dry, dead vine and it will induce a violent cough. Yet some gardeners still insist on planting
Cryptostegia grandiflora
as an ornamental.”

Mala Kapule tapped a key on her laptop and the image of the flower projected on the wall disappeared. “So this is your assignment for the weekend. Take your camera, your cell phone, your tablet, and look into your neighbors’ yards. Don’t tell them I said to.”

I laughed along with the rest of class.

“You’re looking for
Cryptostegia grandiflora
, also known as the Malay rubber vine. Look for pink buds and white flowers with a pink throat. Look for the glossy leaves set opposite each other on the stem. But do not touch it! Just fill out the report for the Maui Invasive Species Committee, the same as you did for the Madagascan ragwort or fireweed. See the handout for more instructions.”

A buzzer sounded and Mala’s students gathered their papers and filed out of the room. One tall young man lingered near her desk, perhaps hoping for a moment of private attention. He stooped over so that his head was closer to hers.

“Not now, Dale,” I heard her say. “We can discuss it on Monday.”

Dale scowled at her. “You’re always putting me off.”

“Perhaps you should think about why that is,” his young professor replied, stuffing her briefcase with the extra handouts left on her desk. “Now, please excuse me.”

She aimed a wide smile in my direction and came forward with her right arm extended. “Mrs. Fletcher, I’d know you anywhere. What a surprise to see you here. I heard you were coming, but I didn’t expect you to slip into the back of my classroom.” She pumped my hand.

“I hope I didn’t disturb the lesson,” I said, returning her smile.

“Not at all. How is Dr. Hazlitt? Charming as ever?”

“He would blush to hear you say that,” I replied.

Mala chuckled. “Uncle Barrett said that Seth Hazlitt was the crabbiest fellow in their class at medical school, but also the best diagnostician.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I said, “about being a superb diagnostician. But Seth really isn’t crabby. He just doesn’t suffer fools easily.”

“Uncle Barrett was the same way.”

“I was sorry to hear about your uncle,” I said.

Mala’s expression turned wistful. “He was a marvelous man. I think I disappointed him in choosing botany over medicine, but he always graciously included me when he boasted about the
scientists
in the family.”

“As well he should. I understand that you’re in line for chair of the department.”

“That was Uncle Barrett’s idea, not mine.” Mala walked with me down the hallway of the one-story building. “It’s never going to happen. Even forgetting my political views—which they won’t—there’s a lot of competition in the college’s horticultural department. The landscaping specialists have an edge. My specialty, invasive species, doesn’t have the snob appeal of aquaponics and xeriscaping.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said through a laugh, “but you’re speaking a different language.”

“Aquaponics is a fancy term for a kind of agriculture that grows fish and plants in the same pond, and xeriscaping is simply landscaping with drought-resistant plants,” she said, pulling a pair of sunglasses from her handbag and putting them on. “The climate on Maui is variable depending upon where you are on the island. It’s a challenge for landscapers to match plants to the conditions, which gives them a chance to show off.”

“But such variety must be rewarding for botanists, too.” We pushed through the doors to the outside, where I also donned sunglasses.

“There’s certainly a lot to keep us busy,” she replied. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee? They’re featuring Kona at the café today.”

“I’d love it.”

I had arrived in Hawaii the day before, a guest of the Maui Police Department, to teach a class on community involvement in criminal investigations. My co-teacher was a retired Maui detective and local legend. Since it is the rare government that will pay for a mystery writer’s opinion, my expenses had been defrayed by a foundation dedicated to bringing in speakers “to broaden the vision of police recruits and encourage the application of creative thinking to solving crime.” At least that’s what the invitation letter had stated as its goal.

I was hesitant at first, not certain what I could contribute to the education of future police officers since the field had changed so drastically with the integration of technology into forensics. Besides, it had been a good many years since I’d taught criminology in Manhattan. But Seth Hazlitt, my dear friend and Cabot Cove’s favorite physician, had convinced me to accept.

“Anyone wants to give me a free trip to Hawaii, I’d be a fool not to take it,” he’d said with the lack of subtlety for which he’s renowned.

Since I was between books, and with the added incentive of Seth’s insistence that I look up his medical school buddy, I had accepted the challenge to conduct a class on community involvement in police investigations. Unfortunately, Barrett Kapule, Mala’s uncle and Seth’s old friend, had died the month before my arrival, and Seth had asked me to deliver a condolence letter he’d written to the family. I hadn’t done it yet, wanting to wait for the appropriate time.

Mala and I entered the bustling campus café and found an unoccupied table. She insisted on getting the coffee and I gratefully accepted. The ten-and-a-half-hour trip to Honolulu from New York’s John F. Kennedy Airport was catching up to me, not counting the travel time it had taken me to get to New York from my home in Cabot Cove, Maine, on one end of the trip and the connecting flight to Maui from the Hawaiian capital on the other. Although I’d slept well the night I arrived, my body wasn’t certain what time zone it was in, nor was my brain.

“Is this your first trip to Hawaii?” Mala asked when she’d returned to our table carrying a tray with two mugs.

“Ooh, that smells wonderful,” I said, taking one of them. “I’ve been to Hawaii a couple of times, but not in recent years. The last time, I was returning to the States from a book tour in Japan and stopped off in Honolulu for a vacation. This time, it’s a working trip, but I’m looking forward to exploring the island between classes. May I count on you for suggestions of special places to see?”

Mala laughed. “Try to stop me. There are so many beautiful and interesting things to see here. Do you have a car?”

I smiled at her over the rim of my mug. “I’m afraid I don’t drive.”

“Really?”

“I’ve never gotten around to it, which never fails to amuse my friends back home. I do have a pilot’s license, though, but that won’t do me much good.”

“Not driving may prove a little tricky, but I’m sure we can fix you up with some form of transportation. I have a cousin who drives a cab.”

“I can ride a bike,” I said. “In fact, I biked over here from the resort where I’m staying.”

She looked me up and down.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to offend you.”

“How can you offend me?”

“There is a famous bike excursion, but it’s not for the faint of heart.”

“I’m listening.”

“Tour companies host a sunrise trip up the Haleakala volcano and offer bicycles to those brave enough to ride down. It’s pretty harrowing biking on those twisting roads. Think you might be up for that?”

I took a sip of the aromatic coffee and stifled a yawn. “Not today or tomorrow,” I said with a wink, “but maybe later in the week.”

Mala’s silvery laugh had several students turning to see to whom it belonged.

She was a beautiful woman with thick black hair pulled back into a low ponytail and deep brown eyes that tilted up when she smiled, which was often. I estimated her to be in her mid-thirties, but with her smooth skin and delicate build, she could have passed for a student instead of a teacher. It was her manner, however, that gave her age away. She held herself confidently and ignored the appreciative glances sent her way. She assumed that people were interested in her because of what she had to say rather than her looks, which only enhanced her attraction. To be fair to her admirers, perhaps it was a little bit of both.

Seth had shown me some of Barrett’s e-mail messages to him extolling Mala’s intelligence and the contributions she made, not only to the college but also to the community, through her activism on the ecological front. While she’d rattled a few commercial cages—nurseries that insisted on selling plants she considered a threat to the native vegetation—her latest project, and the one that raised the most controversy, was her opposition to a new telescope being built atop Haleakala.

With the University of Hawaii firmly in the “pro” column for the telescope, Mala had offended the powers that be by siding with a group of Hawaiians who argued that the construction not only jeopardized the ecological balance of the mountain, but also threatened to have a devastating impact on the dormant volcano, a
wahi pana
, or sacred site, a cultural touchstone for the Hawaiian people. Mala’s contrary stance notwithstanding, her uncle Barrett was certain the university would recognize and reward her brilliance.

“Speaking of Haleakala,” I said, “is that controversial telescope project still going forward?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I have a meeting next week on what our next steps should be. What do you know about it?”

“Not very much, only what your uncle Barrett passed along to Seth Hazlitt.”

“Are you interested? Maybe you’d like to join us,” she said eagerly. “We can always use an extra voice, especially one as articulate as yours.”

“It’s nice of you to say, but I don’t see what help I could provide, not being knowledgeable about the topic or its history. You certainly wouldn’t want this voice to say the wrong thing.”

“No, I wouldn’t. But somehow I don’t think you would expound about a subject you don’t know. You’re not opposed to the idea of learning more about it, are you?”

“No, of course not. I’m always interested in new things.”

“I hope you won’t be sorry you said that,” Mala said, laughing as she pulled her briefcase back into her lap. “I get furious e-mails from people who object to what I’m doing. Next thing you know, there’ll be death threats.”

“Oh, my, is it as bad as that?”

“I’m afraid so. It’s an emotional issue.” She opened a side pocket and withdrew a large envelope containing a sheaf of papers. “This is your basic course in Haleakala’s Science City.” She handed me the envelope. “If nothing else, it should help you get to sleep at night.”

“I don’t think getting to sleep is going to be a problem,” I said. “Staying awake is another matter altogether.”

“When you’re well rested,” Mala said, “I’ll give you a list of things you might like to do while you’re here, other than tag along with me to meetings. You certainly want to attend a luau.”

“I’m going to one tonight.”

“In Wailea?”

“I believe so.”

“Wonderful! Another cousin is one of the dancers. Perhaps I’ll see you there. It depends on the outcome of my next meeting.” She looked at her watch.

“Am I holding you up?”

“Not at all. I have a little time yet, but if I get there early, I may be able to sneak in ahead of the appointment before mine. My competition for the department chair wants to meet with me.” She made a face. “Dreadful man. It should be interesting.”

We left the café and walked back toward the horticulture building.

“Where will you be teaching?” Mala asked.

“The college has given us a classroom in one of the buildings near the police station,” I replied. “We start tomorrow. I stopped there today to introduce myself to the other instructor who’ll be teaching with me.”

“Oh, and who is that?”

“Detective Mike Kane. When I told him I was going to look for your class, he said he’d heard great things about you. Do you know his name?”

“Of course,” Mala said with a grin. “It’s a small island. Everyone knows everyone.”

“How is that possible? There must be more than a hundred thousand people living here, not counting the tourists.”

“I think it’s closer to a hundred fifty thousand now,” she said. “And maybe saying everyone knows everyone is a bit of an exaggeration. We don’t know the seasonal workers, of course. Not many of the kids who come to work in hotels and restaurants stay long enough or interact with the locals enough to become familiar. And I couldn’t say we know all the retirees who’ve decided to live out the rest of their lives on our golf courses. But for those of us whose families have been here for generations, we all know or at least know
of
each other.”

“Detective Kane is a Native Hawaiian?”

“We don’t use the word ‘native.’ His father was, or at least has Hawaiian in his background, but Mike is also a
kahuna
, a big shot. I don’t know how many times he’s been written up in the local paper. But I thought he was retired.”

“He’s retired from the police department,” I said. “Now he works in hotel security, but he calls it something else.”

“Loss prevention,” she said, chuckling and shaking her head. “The hotels in the islands don’t want you to think there’s any crime here, so they renamed their security offices. It’s still the place you go to report if anything’s missing.”

“Yes, that’s the term. But I understand he also consults for the police department.”

“I’m sure he does. He’s famous. Probably every young police officer with a puzzling case shows up on his doorstep looking for advice.”

“Well, now they’ll get a chance to pick his brain in a formal setting,” I said. “I’m looking forward to what I can learn from him as well.”

“And he must be thrilled to have a famous writer to work with.”

We had stopped outside an impressive concrete and steel building with a turquoise roof, on top of which were solar panels and small white wind turbines rotating in the breeze. A sign outside said
‘IKE LE‘A
, which I later learned means “to see clearly.”