Dying for a Daiquiri (13 page)

“Walea,” I yelled, hoping to catch them before they disappeared.

She dropped her garment bag and stared at me as if I was a ghostly apparition.

Did Walea or Henry push me overboard? If so, they’d be better off facing a ghost than the wrath of Laurel McKay.

“You’re alive,” Walea cried out.

“You seem surprised.” I wrapped the blanket tighter around my shoulders as my eyes shifted from Walea to her husband. Henry set his ukulele case on the dock, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Despite his calm demeanor, his hand trembled as he shoved the lighter back in his shirt pocket.

“You should go back to your hotel. You could catch cold.” Walea picked up her oversized tote and nudged Henry with her elbow. He grabbed his instrument, and the couple headed toward the parking lot conversing in hushed tones. Was it my sashimi scent that sent them away? Or the surprise of seeing me alive again?

It was too bad my son wasn’t here. His selective bionic hearing would come in handy since my own ears felt plugged with salt water. Someone screeched my name, and I turned back to the boat.

Amanda raced down the gangway and threw her arms around me. “We were so worried,” she trilled. Evidently someone who studies marine life isn’t put off by someone who smells like it.

I later learned that Rafe had heard a splash and thought he saw someone in the water, but by then the boat had moved on. He went below to see if any passengers were missing and it dawned on Amanda that I was nowhere around. When they couldn’t locate me, Steve realized I must have fallen overboard and called 911. He’d immediately turned the boat around to search for me.

Amanda gave me one more hug then took off. The rescue team again offered to drive me to the hospital but I declined. I’ve never met a hospital that didn’t have a predilection for sticking pointed objects into their patients. After coming within inches of turning into a shark shish-ka-bob, the last thing I needed was to have a gaggle of nurses and doctors poking and prodding at my waterlogged body.

I heard someone calling my name and turned to see Stan scurrying toward us. I smiled at my friend as he rushed across the dock toward Steve and me. I’d forgotten that he’d offered to pick me up since his dance lesson was scheduled to end about the time the
Sea Jinx
docked.

Stan halted a few feet away, his nose twitching as if he’d discovered a bushel of overripe bananas. “You look like something the cat dragged in.”

“You’re close. But it’s more like something the boat dragged in. I fell overboard.”

“OMG. Sweetie, you could have drowned.”

Yeah, I could have been annihilated in a variety of ways.

“She had a close call,” Steve said. “But Laurel’s a real trooper.” He grabbed my hand as the three of us headed toward the parking lot. Stan discreetly walked ahead. Although it would have been more subtle if he hadn’t been humming, “Can You Feel the Love Tonight.”

All I could concentrate on was returning to the hotel to a hot bath and a cup of hot tea. And my mommy. No matter how old you are, or how many children you’ve birthed, there’s nothing like having your own mother pamper you after a bad day.

Especially if your day involved someone possibly trying to kill you.

Steve apparently had his own ideas of how to perk up a waterlogged woman. As we reached the ticket building, he pulled me into the shadows. I immediately tensed, but my tension disappeared when he planted a sweet kiss on my lips. My blanket fell to the ground as Steve wrapped muscular arms around me and drew me close. With the blanket no longer draped around me, Steve’s hard-as-a-rock body nestled against my wet, covered-with-a thin tablecloth curves.

The
Sea Jinx
captain definitely knew how to make a woman perk up.

* * *

With Steve’s heated good-bye kiss coursing through every vibrating nerve in my body, my brain shifted into overdrive on the ride home. I leaned back in the passenger seat and contemplated the surprise kiss as well as my near-death experience.

Since Stan doesn’t agree with the philosophy that silence is golden, he interrupted my reverie the minute we reached the highway.

He turned to face me. “Okay, give.”

“Hey, watch the road.” Why do so many drivers feel the need to make eye contact with their passengers when they converse? Hadn’t Stan noticed all the flowers in front of memorials lining both sides of the Queen Kaahumanu Highway?

He pulled his gaze back to the road. “So what exactly happened? I want to know everything. Right up to that smooch Steve planted on you.”

Can’t put much past my pal.

I relayed the events of the evening beginning with my conversations with both Walea and Timmy and ending with my sudden dunking and subsequent rescue.

Stan shuddered. “Gosh, you are one lucky woman.”

“Or one unlucky woman,” I muttered.

“Are you certain someone pushed you?”

“I can’t be one hundred percent positive.” I tried to remember what happened on the boat before I landed in the water, but all I could recall was my harrowing time floundering in the ocean.

“Did anyone act suspicious when you reappeared?” Stan asked, shifting into investigative mode.

I thought about it. “Walea looked startled to see me, but she was below deck with Amanda and the passengers when it happened, so she couldn’t have pushed me. Henry seemed nervous when I turned up. I have no idea where he was when I went overboard. And Timmy bolted the second we made eye contact.”

Stan’s head swiveled ninety degrees as he stared at me.

“Eyes on the road,” I said.

He returned his gaze to the highway, which thankfully wasn’t as busy as it normally is. “What do you mean Timmy ran away?” he asked.

“After I climbed up on the dock, I noticed Timmy walking away with the passengers. When I called out his name he took off. That’s when Steve and the rescue guys spotted me. They raced over and asked a zillion questions. When you showed up, I forgot to mention Timmy’s weird behavior to Steve.”

“You need to tell the police. First, Timmy threatened Keiki a few days before her death. Then he warned you to back off. Minutes later you were fighting for your life.”

“Yeah.” I shivered remembering my brief terrifying stint in the ocean. “But Henry could have pushed me in as well. Shoot, one of the tourists might have come upstairs in search of a cocktail refill, accidentally bumped into me and been afraid to admit it.”

“Speaking of Henry and Walea, you haven’t asked me about my dance lesson,” Stan said.

No, I’d been too caught up reminiscing how I’d almost died an hour earlier.

“So how was it? You still have your hair and limbs so I gather sword and fire dancing weren’t on the agenda.”

“Ha ha. Wait until you see what I can do with a fire baton.”

Oh, dear. I could only imagine, but I held my tongue. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Hey, it wasn’t just fun and games. Don’t forget I was operating undercover.”

I wasn’t certain how my slightly-built fair-haired friend could run a covert ops among the huge Samoan dancers, but I went along with his delusional detecting daydreams.

“Learn anything helpful?”

He nodded but kept his eyes front and center. “Just call me Magnum PI. I told the guys what a tough vacation this had been for our group, what with Keiki’s death and Regan’s arrest. It didn’t take long for me to learn that her former boyfriend took it hard when Keiki dumped him.”

“I discovered her boyfriend was Timmy’s brother,” I said. “He seemed really angry toward Keiki. Thinks his brother committed suicide because of her. That his death wasn’t an accident.”

“According to the troupe, Joey was a terrific dancer. He and Keiki started dating a few years ago. They performed together quite a bit when they were a pair.”

“Did she date any of the other guys in the troupe?”

“Not that they mentioned, but she could have. These guys are buff-o! When they get oiled up…” Stan paused. “Oh, well, a guy can dream, can’t he?”

“Never stop dreaming,” I replied, ever the optimist. Someday Stan would find his Mr. Right. “Did anyone mention any other potential suspects?”

“Supposedly Keiki told Joey she was now seeing an older man. A guy who could provide her with the lifestyle she felt she deserved. Joey was so upset he told his pals he followed Keiki’s car a couple of times, wanting to find out who’d replaced him.”

“Joey followed Keiki?” Could he have been the possible stalker Keiki had mentioned to Steve? “Did Joey see who she was meeting?”

Stan nodded.

“Wonderful. You did some great investigating. Was it anyone we might know?”

Stan’s hands clenched on the steering wheel, but he kept his eyes on the road as he shared the new information.

“Your brother.”

Stan delivered my bedraggled body directly to my hotel room, where my mother ministered to my every need. Nothing tops a warm bath and room service, consisting of a cheeseburger, onion rings and chocolate cheesecake, to assist in a near-drowning recovery process. You couldn’t ask for more, although even after I devoured the food on all three plates, I still tasted the lingering kiss Steve and I had shared.

When I awoke the next morning, my muscles felt stiff and sore. Black, blue and purple spots speckled my body like a Jackson Pollock painting.

After the previous night’s experience, it was nice to receive some positive news for a change. Dave called to tell us the police were releasing Regan. He had no idea if they needed more evidence to pursue a case against her or if the detectives uncovered another suspect. I was thrilled she would be free.

I had almost as many questions bouncing around my overactive brain as I had black-and-blue marks on my body. Questions for both Regan and my brother. Especially after Stan’s revelation about Joey spying Dave and Keiki together on several occasions. Did those encounters have anything to do with her murder? Just because Joey spotted Dave and Keiki at locations outside of the restaurant didn’t automatically make Dave the mystery man she was dating.

Tonight I would get Dave alone, no matter what it took, and find out the true relationship between him and the dancer. And hopefully find out more about Keiki’s stepsister and brother-in-law. Someone was hiding something, and I had the bruises from last night’s deep-sea plunge to show for it.

Regan and Dave arrived at the hotel minutes before we departed for the spa. Liz took one look at Regan’s wan make-up free face and dispirited demeanor, and insisted she join us. Regan protested at first but I talked her into it. This could be the perfect opportunity to have some alone time with my sister-in-law.

As a spa owner, Liz had negotiated a discount on treatments for all the girls. And Stan.

Liz had signed me up for a seaweed wrap. She claimed the sea kelp that covered me from my forehead to my toes, would remove all the toxins from my body. Considering how much alcohol, chocolate-covered macadamia nuts and onion rings I’d consumed on this trip, my body could officially be classified as a toxic waste site.

Although the dark green mixture didn’t smell horrible, the seaweed paste reminded me of last night’s involuntary swim. It would have been nice if someone had warned me in advance that the staff member responsible for coating every inch of my curves would
not
be a female.

There I was, practically naked as a pelican, tiny strips of thin paper barely covering my lady parts, when Paoli, the young Hawaiian masseur walked into the room.

He flashed me a grin and told me to relax.

Ninety-nine percent of my body lay exposed and he wanted me to relax?

I gritted my teeth and once Paoli slathered my body with the seaweed mixture and cocooned me in a light wrap, I finally did relax. For a minute. He turned on some New Age music and left me alone with my thoughts.

There is nothing like a dark room, soothing music and no distractions to send my brain zooming in every direction. Even though the police had released Regan, she could still end up spending the rest of her life behind bars. I needed to learn what kind of evidence they had on her, and anything else she knew about Keiki’s relationship with my brother.

What better time than now when she couldn’t escape my slimy clutches?

I sat up and immediately felt woozy so I waited for my head to clear. Paoli had wrapped me tighter than a taquito. With some difficulty, I finally eased my left arm out first, followed by my right. Then I peeled the sticky wrap off my even stickier body. My pristine white terry cloth spa robe hung from a hook on the wall.

Seconds later, I sneaked out of my room, semi-camouflaged in my seaweed-spotted robe, flip-flops, towel turban, and glasses. The door squeaked but none of the spa staff loitered in the hallway. I sensed they would frown on clients disappearing mid-treatment.

My next dilemma––which closed door led to my sister-in-law?

Poking my head inside each room didn’t seem like the best option. The last thing I wanted to do was walk in on a naked stranger. Or worse––a naked Stan. I’d hate to get Liz in hot water with the hotel when she had gone to so much trouble to provide a relaxing afternoon for everyone.

A clear plastic holder outside of each treatment room held a small piece of paper that listed the present occupant’s name and schedule of appointments. I crept along the hallway peering inside the holders until I ran across Regan’s name. I pushed open the door and slipped inside.

Regan lay on her stomach, her head resting on her hands, her long hair knotted on top of her head. Large black stones decorated her slender back. Liz must have signed Regan up for the hot lava rock massage, thinking it would provide the relaxation she needed after spending two days in the local jail. I imagined it would take more than a massage and some overheated stones to erase the memory of that experience.

I tiptoed inside and bumped my knee into a large tray stand. The magnifying mirror resting on the top tier teetered on the edge, but righted itself without crashing and leaving me with another seven years of bad luck.