Birds in Paradise
Authors: Dorothy McFalls
| Birds in Paradise |
| Dorothy McFalls |
| Barking Dog Press (2011) |
A street-savvy P.I. with a big heart. A missing sister. And a hunky detective who is nothing but trouble. Things are about to heat up in Honolulu! (short novella-length cozy mystery)
Dear Reader,
Pete and Kyra's story was inspired by a trip to Hawai'i where I witnessed firsthand the various definitions of paradise. In Waikiki, great wealth and great poverty mingle together like vines in a banyan tree.
My visit to the islands of Hawai'i captured both my imagination and my heart. The spirit and pride of the people living on the side of those silent volcanoes in the middle of the Pacific Ocean are examples of what's right in this world. I look forward to returning there soon and continuing Pete and Kyra's adventures.
One of the joys I find in writing is the challenge of bringing to the reader new places and new experiences. In my new mystery series, I set my sights on Washington, D.C. and the White House. Travel with Casey Calhoun as she embarks on a new chapter in her life, uprooting from all she knows in Charleston, SC to accept the coveted position as White House gardener in my May 2011 release, FLOWERBED OF STATE, April 2012 release, THE SCARLET PEPPER, and April 2013 release, OAK AND DAGGER.
While in Washington, Casey digs up plots that have nothing to do with gardening and everything to do with murder. Casey must untangle the web of lies in this latest intrigue before she ends up permanently planted in a flowerbed of her own making.
BIRDS IN PARADISE
(AN ALOHA PETE MYSTERY)
By
DOROTHY MCFALLS
(writing as: Dorothy St. James)
Visit Dorothy St. James at:
http://www.facebook.com/dorothy.stjames
Published by Barking Dog Press
Kindle Edition
“Birds in Paradise”
All rights reserved
Copyright © February 2011 by Dorothy McFalls
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Kindle.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction of utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, not known or hereafter invested, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.
Cover art designed by Dorothy McFalls using artwork from Shutterstock, R_lion_O
I RUBBED MY EYES NOT
quite believing what I was seeing. What in the world was Aloha Pete doing up there? Up on the stage? With the hula dancers? And under a starry sky in the palm-tree lounge of a touristy hotel, at that?
Not that I minded seeing him dressed in a scanty leather loincloth and swinging around a wooden spear. Because, I didn’t. In fact, after seeing Pete’s darkly tanned chest I forgot all about the man with the white hat who had followed me into the hotel bar. Transfixed, I sank into the closest wicker chair, my gaze locked on the small wooden stage where three men—counting Pete—and four women were dancing.
I’d never seen Pete with his shoulder length silky black hair loose from the leather strap he wore. But oh, it was loose and beautiful now. And my heart couldn’t help but pound in concert with the primitive moves of the dance. The bounce-thrust-bounce of his hips in time to the deep thrumming of the drums.
A passing waiter placed a mai tai on the table in front of me. I gave him a grateful smile and then took a long sip of the sweet drink.
Okay, okay. I know what you’re thinking. But only if backed into a corner would I admit it out loud. I’ve had an elephant-sized crush on Pete from the first moment we met. He was a uniformed cop back then, and I was a fledgling pickpocket. Luckily for me, he had a soft spot for young women down on their luck. Instead of arresting me—like the honest cop he was—he gave me a handful of cash and put me in contact with his aunt, a dark leathery-faced woman everyone calls Mamma Jo. She manages one of the original low-rise hotels in Waikiki. In lieu of rent, she lets me clean the rooms.
Through her and the company she keeps, I fell into my current career. Private investigations. Who knew an ivy-league-dropout, beach-bum-failure would have a knack for solving crimes? I certainly didn’t.
Five years later, Pete has graduated from officer pounding the beat to respected detective for the Honolulu PD, and I’ve built a reputation as an effective private detective. Sometimes we find ourselves working the same cases.
It makes Pete grumble and swear in his native Hawaiian.
And still, I have that elephant-sized crush on him.
But nothing is going to happen.
It isn’t as if he even likes me.
Heck, I saved his life. Took a bullet in the shoulder to keep it from landing square in his chest just a few months ago. And what thanks did I get? A scowl. Oh, and he threatened to toss my butt in jail.
With that in mind, I knew I was wasting my time when the drums stopped beating. But my heart didn’t listen. It continued to pound. The lights came up and a line of tourists rushed the stage to have their pictures taken with the dancers. A hotel photographer with an instant camera was selling copies for ten dollars. It was an investment I was only too willing to make.
I hurried over to the stage and jumped into the line. I knew Pete wouldn’t recognize me right away. Thanks to my disguise I looked like any other tourist. A silky flower-print dress that didn’t quite reach my knees and a large straw hat with a matching band hid my blond hair and most of my face.
At the hotel, I blended quite well.
He gave me an empty smile, tossed his arm over my shoulder, and posed for the camera.
“A-lo-ha—” I flipped up the rim of my floppy hat so he could see my smiling face. “—Pete.”
His arm stiffened. “Kyra? What the hell are you doing here?”
Though I’m a firm believer in the truth—I swear, I am—I couldn’t help but remember Pete’s dire warning that if he found out I was back in the private detective business, and working without a license, he’d haul me down to the station and lock me away. Forever.
“Having a girl’s night out with some friends.” The lie came easily enough. I gave a nod toward a group of women who were giggling and a little more than halfway toward being plastered. “And you?” I lowered my voice. “Don’t tell me that you’re working undercover.”
His arm stiffened a bit more. “I’m doing a favor for my cousin. He has the flu and couldn’t find anyone to fill in for him.”
“I’m impressed.” I stepped aside so he could pose for a picture with a giggling teenage girl. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off Pete’s invitingly naked chest or wipe the goofy grin from my lips. “Really impressed.”
“Go home, Kyra.” He turned toward me and away from his flock of adoring fans. His scowl was back. “And forget that you saw any of this, okay?”
Out the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the man who’d been following me. He was heading across the bar and toward the beach.
“Sure,” I said, and gave into the urge to lay my hand flat on Pete’s smooth chest. “No problem.”
After a breathless moment I jumped off the stage, paid the cameraman for the picture of the all-too-serious Detective Pete in his native garb, and hurried after the other mystery man in my life. This was no time to play games, not with my heart, anyhow. Whether I had a license or not, I still had a job to do and a mountain of bills to pay.
“S-SHE’S BEEN-BEEN MISSING
for nearly a week!” Anna Hartfield, a young woman with bleached blond hair and a perky little nose, collapsed into one of my office/living room/hotel bedroom chairs, and started weeping.
I handed her a tissue. “And this has never happened before?” I asked her, using my gentle, new-client voice.
She looked up at me, her eyes wide and somewhat confused. She dabbed her damp nose. “B-before?”
“Has your sister, Tina, ever run off before?” After a long silence I added, “With a man?”
Anna shook her head vigorously. “I told her it was a bad idea, but we weren’t making enough money with our waitressing jobs to cover the rent. Everything is so expensive out here on the islands. I told her that we should just go back to Iowa. But she wouldn’t listen. And now she’s gone.”
My stomach twisted. “What was your sister doing?”
“She—” Anna looked up at me suddenly, her eyes filled with terror. “She’s not like the others. She was just trying to make things work for us here. It was just until we found something better.”
“You need to tell me,” I urged her. “What was Tina doing?”
Anna continued to shake her head as pearly tears dripped down her cheeks.
“Was she dealing drugs? Robbery?” I swallowed hard and hoped it wasn’t what I feared it might be. “Prostitution?”
“She said she’d just do it a few times,” Anna sobbed. “She said she’d be careful and only get involved with rich tourists. I begged her not to go, but she went out anyhow and never came home.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. Two young, pretty girls had already gone missing in the past few weeks while peddling their trade. I’d poked around—strictly out of curiosity—after the second girl had disappeared. The next day my mysterious shadow man had entered my life. Hell yeah, I thought it was too much of a coincidence. Tug on the right chains and all sorts of creatures show up. But other than my new shadow, I was coming up empty-handed.
Like the other missing girls, Anna looked to be about eighteen. Her sister was a year older. They were both too young, too innocent to be sliding down that dark path. I know...I could have easily ended up there myself.
Five years ago, picking tourists pockets was barely getting me enough money for food. I was getting close to being desperate enough to agree to trade my body for a dry, safe place to live. Sleeping on the grass in a park loses its luster pretty fast, even in paradise.
My heart ached for the two sisters. I reached out and gave Anna’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll see what I can do to find her.”
“I-I can’t pay you,” Anna stumbled over her words. “At least, not yet. But I don’t know what else to do. The police, they don’t seem concerned.”
I’m sure the police were concerned, but in a case like this one there wasn’t too much they could do other than wait for a body to show up.
I, on the other hand, could devote all my time to focus on this one case. Not getting paid for it would hurt. But there was no way I was going to turn Anna away.
“Have you called your parents yet?” I asked softly. “You should let them know what’s going on.”
She agreed to call her parents only after I promised to talk with them and assure them that I would do everything possible to find their daughter.
That evening I hit the streets with my butt squeezed into a black spandex skirt that, and I’m not kidding you, I’d bought thinking it was a headband. My generous upper parts were barely covered by an electric blue halter-top, and I’d gobbed on enough makeup that I when I passed Mamma Jo in the hallway on the way out, she introduced herself as if I was a new guest.
Gad, I was uncomfortable parading down the street in my rubber flip-flops while fighting the urge to tug at my skirt. Rule number one to undercover work: blend. On the glitzy sidewalks of Waikiki in front the high-priced storefronts of Channel and Versace, where I liked to conduct my PI business, this outfit stuck out like a sunburned Midwesterner. Unfortunately, where I was headed I would look conservative.