Beachboy Murder Read online

  She turned to leave but stopped only a few steps away and turned back. "Did you know that the night I spoke to Val?"

  That brought my head up. "No," I said. "You spoke to him?"

  "I didn't say anything earlier because I was afraid they'd think I killed him."

  Which they did anyway, Miss Mele, at least for a while.

  "He talked to me about the way he left. He was sorry he hurt me. I don't want people to still hate him. He wasn't such a bad guy after all. He came all the way back here just to tell me how all these years he'd regretted what happened."

  It didn't seem like the time to mention Chelsea's contribution to Val's coming back to the island, so I didn't. "If I see Hector or hear from him, I'll be sure to tell him you want to see him."

  "Yes." She blushed and smiled, and it made her look pretty. "I do want to see Hector."

  I couldn't wait to tell Rick about this. He was already convinced Hector and Mele were a match made in conspiracy heaven. This would nail it for him.

  After she left, Ace stopped in and worked with Koma for about an hour, shifting bookings around and going so far as to share some of them with rival helicopter touring companies so that Rick could take a couple of weeks off to get his legs back under him. If he had no symptoms of concussion after that time, the hospital doctors promised he'd be cleared to fly again. I'd decided two weeks of nursing Rick Dawson back to health would be any woman's dream job.

  Toward that end, Janet had lived up to being the generous spirit she was known to be and extended her stay at the resort to cover for me at the travel agency, taking what she'd referred to as, "…well-deserved time away from the big city." Since she was the woman who'd trained me years ago, there was no doubt that she could do my job every bit as well as I could—heck, maybe better.

  "You're the best," I'd told her when she'd made the offer.

  "Ah, it's kind of selfish. I'm pretty happy to stay a while longer and see what happens with that hotshot chopper pilot."

  "Chopper pilot?"

  "Ace." She'd gotten a sort of dreamy, faraway look in her eyes. "I think I might be falling for that guy. He makes me laugh, and he makes me think, and he makes me sigh."

  Janet had also taken me aside and talked to me about my buying her little two-story rust-colored house where I'd been living since I moved to the island. Janet admitted she'd been wanting to sell both it and her slick Chicago condo.

  "Don't laugh, Gabs, but there's this lovely old Queen Anne on Winchester Avenue. It's been fully restored and rehabbed. Six bedrooms."

  "Six bedrooms?"

  "I was thinking about maybe—"

  "Oh, Jan. Innkeeper? B&B?"

  She sort of laughed and nodded.

  "I think it's brilliant." I hugged her. "Let's talk about me buying your house later."

  While Janet was still there, Detective Ray came by to—"…bring you up to date on the Markson case."

  I was stunned. What did he have up his sleeve? The Detective Ray Kahoalani I was getting to know would never share information about one of his cases without wanting something in return.

  "Chicago P.D. is putting together extradition to get Hershel Goldberg, alias Harvey Goldson, alias Sheldon Goldman in their custody where they can dig into his backroom gambling operations. We're seeking a murder indictment on his wife."

  Janet shook her head. "I can't believe I work for people like that."

  "Jan," I said. "The rest of the group seem like pretty nice people."

  "Yes," she agreed. "I suppose you're right. Maybe those two bad apples haven't had a chance to spoil the whole barrel." She turned to Detective Ray. "But why did she do it? Why did she kill him?"

  Detective Ray shrugged. "She said she was going to leave Hershel, and when she saw Val here on the island, she got it in her head that maybe he'd run off with her."

  "But he was here to hook up with Chelsea Westport." I was getting confused, too many cast members in this drama.

  Detective Ray shrugged. "I don't know anything about that except what Miz Belinski here told me. But Sarah said that night she saw him leave the resort with Janet here. She followed them. She saw him talk to Mele and even waited until Ona whacked him with her cane and left him in the grass. Then Sarah approached him with her plan for them to run off together.

  "That wasn't what the beachboy had in mind. But he did want something from her. Money. Said he was tired of being at the beck and call of women like her and wanted to make a new start. He threatened to expose some blackmail scam she was involved in if she didn't pay him off."

  "Blackmail to not tell about blackmail?" It boggled my mind.

  "In the end she paid him off all right. Permanently. When Markson walked away, she stabbed him with her shoe heel. Aimi Yoshida, the coroner, said Sarah must have hit him just right. Hard luck."

  "For them both," I said.

  Detective Ray wrapped it up by asking about Rick, and before he left, I finally found out why he'd come and made this peace offering.

  "I don't suppose you know where I should go to look for that little stray hound hanging around your neighborhood?"

  "Five-O?" I was immediately suspicious. "We take care of that little guy. You don't need to have him rounded up by animal control, Detective."

  Detective Ray looked sheepish. "That wasn't what I had in mind. I had to put down a little dog of my own a few months ago. I thought maybe, you know, since Five-O seems to need a forever place to hang his collar, I might see if he'd like my place." He shrugged. "I mean a dog named Five-O? A police detective? Fate, right?"

  Well, who would've thought it. The detective had a heart.

  I told him the best places to look for the little beagle and what brand of snacks to buy to lure him. Detective Ray actually thanked me before leaving.

  By the time Detective Ray and Janet had left and I'd given a pep talk to Lana and Koma about how they were going to love having Janet around for the next two weeks, it was time for me to leave for the hospital.

  I picked Rick up and drove him to my place in Brute the Awesome Shuttle.

  "Princess, I can't tell you how happy it makes me to get the heck outta that place. Man, they wake you up in the middle of the night there to give you sleeping pills."

  When we arrived at my place, Hercules came running to greet us and wound himself around Rick's ankles all the way from the kitchen to the living room. Then he bounded upstairs ahead of us and supervised while I settled Rick into my bed, fluffing pillows and tucking the sheets around him, pretending I actually knew a thing or two about what I was doing.

  "How are you feeling?" I asked for about the umpteenth time.

  "Not so bad, Princess." He paused, then, "And how are you feeling? I hear you took a couple of good thumps last night."

  "No big deal," I said. Truth was, I was pretty sore, but bruises get well faster than concussions. "You're the invalid, Dawson. You sure you're okay?"

  "I am. How could I not be, seeing as how I have the best-looking nurse in the world?"

  I raised an index finger at him. "Hold that thought," I said and went into the bathroom to change clothes.

  When I came out again, I wore the outfit I'd purchased that morning at the mall at a shop called Fantasies R Us. I'd bought it to prove the seriousness of my commitment to see that Rick made a full recovery. It was, of course, a nurse's uniform. I did have to say it was cut a bit lower in the top and rode quite a bit higher at the bottom than most nurses' uniforms. And I really didn't think the white thigh-high lace stockings were exactly regulation issue.

  But Rick didn't seem to mind. He didn't seem to mind at all. He reached up and pulled me down beside him.

  I wagged a finger at him. "You have to promise to behave yourself," I said. "Nurse LeClair has strict orders from the doctor that you need to take it easy for the next several days."

  "Nurse LeClair." He tasted the words and seemed to like them. "Nurse LeClair, I thought you knew. When it comes to you, I'll take it just about any way I can get it
, easy or otherwise."

  The grin on his face—that face I admittedly loved—was so wide and so pleased, it made me wonder if I'd missed my calling. Maybe I should have pursued a career in the medical field instead of the travel industry.

  * * *

  Hawaiian Language

  (a crash course in how to put together all those syllables)

  The current Hawaiian alphabet consists of thirteen letters: five vowels (Aa, Ee, Ii, Oo, Uu) and eight consonants (Hh, Kk, Ll, Mm, Nn, Pp, Ww, ‘okina). The 'okina is a glottal stop between two vowel sounds. The best example to English speakers is "Uh-oh." It's that break between the two vowel sounds. It looks somewhat like an accent, and is important in the Hawaiian language because it can change the meaning of a word. For instance, ko'u is mine, while kou is yours.

  Alphabetical order differs from the normal Latin order—vowels come first, then the consonants.

  In the Hawaiian language, every vowel is pronounced—so Waipoo, which looks like two syllables, is really four syllables (possibly slurred together, but still pronounced). There are no silent letters in the Hawaiian language.

  a sounds like [ah] as in above.

  e sounds like [eh] as in bet.

  i sounds like [ee] as in bee.

  o sounds like [oh] as in obey.

  u sounds like [oo] as in rule.

  ALOHA, for now.

  * * * * *

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  ALOHA LAGOON BOOKS

  Ukulele Murder

  Murder on the Aloha Express

  Deadly Wipeout

  Deadly Bubbles in the Wine

  Mele Kalikimaka Murder

  Death of the Big Kahuna

  Ukulele Deadly

  Bikinis and Bloodshed

  Death of the Kona Man

  Lethal Tide

  Beachboy Murder

  Handbags & Homicide

  * * * * *

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  USA Today bestselling authors Sally J. Smith and Jean Steffens, are partners in crime—crime writing, that is. They live in Scottsdale, Arizona, awesome for eight months out of the year, an inferno the other four. They write bloody murder, flirty romance, and wicked humor all in one package. When their heads aren't together over a manuscript, you'll probably find them at a movie or play, a hockey game or the mall, or at one of the hundreds of places to find a great meal in the Valley of the Sun.

  To learn more about Sally J. Smith & Jean Steffens, visit them online at: http://www.smithandsteffens.com/

  * * * * *

  BOOKS BY SALLY J. SMITH & JEAN STEFFENS

  Aloha Lagoon Mysteries:

  Murder on the Aloha Express

  Beachboy Murder

  Danger Cove Pet Sitter Mysteries:

  Passion, Poison & Puppy Dogs

  Divas, Diamonds & Death

  Mystic Isle Mysteries:

  Mystic Mayhem

  Mystic Mojo (short story in the Killer Beach Reads collection)

  Mystic Mistletoe Murder

  Mystic Mischief

  Mystic Wedding Belle Blues (short story in the Pushing Up Daisies collection)

  Mystic Deception

  * * * * *

  SNEAK PEEK

  of the next Aloha Lagoon Mystery

  HANDBAGS & HOMICIDE

  a Kaley Kalua Aloha Lagoon Mystery

  by

  ANNE MARIE STODDARD

  CHAPTER ONE

  "I'm getting married!" my friend from Atlanta, Emma Ross, gushed. She let out a squeal so loud that I almost had to pull the phone away from my ear. "Kaley, isn't it so exciting?"

  When Emma had sent me a "9-1-1" text message five minutes earlier, I'd bolted off the sales floor of the Happy Hula Dress Boutique, the clothing shop I managed at the Aloha Lagoon Resort, without a moment's hesitation. I had hurried into the office that I shared with my Aunt Rikki, worried that something horrible had happened to my dear friend. A break-up, a lost job—or maybe a really bad spray tan. I certainly hadn't expected this.

  "That's great, Em," I said, wincing at the shrillness of her voice. "Congratulations." I quickly crossed the office and pulled the door closed, hoping that my friend's ecstatic squealing hadn't been heard from the sales floor. Then I returned to the desk and sank into the cushioned chair. "When's the wedding?" I asked, my own voice coming out a half-octave higher than usual. While I was happy for Emma, the engagement seemed rather sudden. She had only been dating Atlanta Falcons' star defensive end, Dante Becker, for just over four months.

  "Well…" Emma's tone was a little reluctant now. "That's part of the reason I'm calling. Obviously, I wanted to tell you right after Dante popped the question." There was a pause, and she sighed with contentment. I pictured my petite brunette friend on the other end of the line, marveling at a massive diamond on her left ring finger. "Anyway," she continued, "we didn't want to wait until next year, and with football season right around the corner, Dante's about to be busy twenty-four-seven. You know how it is."

  "Yeah." I pursed my lips. I did know. Until recently I'd been a football wife myself. My ex-husband, Bryan Colfax, was Dante's teammate. We'd actually been the ones to introduce the newly engaged couple. Of course, that was before my NFL star hubby had cheated on me with three of the team's new cheerleaders (one of which happened to be Dante's cousin)—all at the same time. We'd divorced nearly two months ago, and the last I'd heard, Bryan was dating one of those home-wrecking pompom shakers. Good riddance. I scowled at the memory.

  "So, anyway, we're going to do it a week from next Tuesday," Emma blurted, bringing my attention back to her.

  I nearly dropped the phone. "For real?" Today was Thursday, which put the ceremony less than two weeks away. It was also currently the middle of July. The team's preseason would start in mid-August, and the guys were already training daily. "Em, that's not enough time to plan a wedding. How are you going to book a venue within that kind of window? What about a dress? And a honeymoon? Can Dante even manage to take off around the team's practice schedule?"

  "Oh, don't worry. We've got it all handled," my friend replied smoothly. "We're getting married on a Tuesday morning so that Dante's schedule isn't interrupted. We're just having a small ceremony with family and close friends. Besides, Dante is still recovering from his knee surgery last month, so he's been spending most of practice on the bench. It's not like he'll miss much. We'll be taking a late honeymoon to Fiji—we just have to wait to see how the Falcons do postseason before we book the trip. Plus I pulled some strings with my yoga instructor's girlfriend, who works at that exclusive boutique in Buckhead, Bella's Bridal. I have an appointment tomorrow to try on dresses." She sighed again. " I wish you could go with me."

  "Me too." I felt a pang of sorrow. I missed Emma so much. I wanted to be there for every step leading up to her big day, but I was across the continent in Hawaii, and it was such short notice. "Are you sure you're not rushing into this?" I asked gently. "Why not wait until the postseason? That would give you more time to plan, and maybe I could come visit and help you—"

  "We're in love," Emma interrupted, sounding defensive. "We don't wanna wait until the postseason." She sniffed. "I thought you'd be happy for me."

  "Oh, sweetie." I smacked my palm to my forehead. I hadn't meant to upset her. "Of course I am."

  "Good," Emma said, the perkiness returning to her voice. "Because I want you to be my maid of honor."

  "Really?" It was my turn to squeal with excitement. "Em, I'd love to!" About two seconds later, the rational side of my brain caught up, and my pleasure was replaced by panic. Emma wanted me to help her plan a wedding that was just twelve days away. I chewed my lip, thinking of my barren ban
k account. Even if I worked on my days off for the next couple of weeks, the round-trip flight from Kauai to Atlanta would nearly drain my savings.

  As if she'd read my mind, Emma piped up. "I was hoping you'd say yes—because Dante and I want to pay for your plane ticket back to Atlanta. How does first class sound?"

  My jaw dropped open. "Em, that's such a generous offer," I breathed. "But you don't have to do that." I'd find a way to pay for a ticket myself. Maybe I could ask Aunt Rikki for an advance on my next paycheck.

  "I know we don't have to, but we insist," she said. "And don't you dare start talking about paying us back. We want you to be there, and this is the least we can do. You did set us up, after all. We owe you."

  "Girl, you don't owe me a thing. But seriously, thank you," I added softly, feeling a rush of gratitude.

  "That reminds me," Emma said. "I wanted to find out who you're bringing for a plus one. Still seeing that hottie you told me about? If you'll send me his info, I'll book his flight, too. What was his name again?"

  "Noa." I felt my insides warm at the thought of my childhood best bud—and, as of a few weeks ago, more than just a friend—Noa Kahele. "I'll talk to him about it tonight at dinner, though I'm sure he'll insist on paying for himself." Noa ran his own freelance business as a website and graphic designer. He was really good at his job, and business had been booming lately. Though he didn't need the supplemental income, he worked part-time as a lifeguard at the Aloha Lagoon Resort. Noa was usually stationed at the guest swimming pool right across the courtyard from Happy Hula, which meant I got the occasional glimpse of him in action through the shop's display window. I wasn't embarrassed to admit that it was the highlight of my shift on those days. He was usually shirtless when he worked at the pool, and the man rocked a nice set of abs.