Beachboy Murder Read online

  "They will. Believe me. Those people are thooor-oooough." She drew out thorough, making it sound like two words. "They've done their homework and already know a lot about Gabby's Island Adventures and what they want to do with it once they make the purchase."

  My head jerked around, and something anxious squeezed my insides—alarm? "What do you mean, 'What they want to do with it?'"

  She shrugged. "My bosses aren't in the travel agency business for the travel benefits. From what I know, they're out to make every nickel there is to make. They'll want to expand—maybe a catering company and an accessories outlet for the likes of luggage, clothing, and adventure gear. They'll also want to push other destinations, ones where they're already established with bus tours, cruises, and, you know, things like safaris, outback excursions, and stuff."

  "Oh." I didn't know what else to say. It hadn't occurred to me that the whole direction of Gabby's Island Adventures would shift once my name disappeared from the sign on the door. I said, "I hadn't thought that they'd be making a lot of big changes once they bought it."

  "Gabby, I don't think you've thought about it much in general. And you need to. If things go the way I think they will—"

  We turned toward the hotel entrance then and both stopped dead in our tracks at what we saw and heard.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tight, animated groups of people clustered here and there like patches of crab grass. Hands waving this way and that. Heads shaking. Mouths working feverishly. Conversation buzzed low like a swarm of bees.

  "What's up?" Janet asked.

  "Beats me."

  We walked into the lobby where I could barely hear the soft island music over the din of voices.

  A sloppy sort of squishing sound and a stern male voice came from behind us. "If this happens again, folks, you'll be asked to find other accommodations."

  Janet and I turned around as head of security Jimmy Toki, large and in charge as usual, came striding through the front entrance toward us.

  One of his big hands was hooked loosely around Freddy Lancaster's upper arm. Dolly trailed behind them. Both of the young ecology-minded Lancasters were almost jogging to keep up with Jimmy's long strides.

  It was hard not to notice that both Freddy and Dolly were soaking wet, their matching green T-shirts that read Technology Owes Ecology an Apology, and cargo shorts clinging to them. They were both barefoot and carrying their hiking boots.

  "But, officer," Freddy objected. "That poor thing needs to be freed. It's beautiful here, but it's still a prison."

  Dolly joined in. "That sweet baby is suffering. Couldn't you see how sad he looks? He needs to swim free in the ocean."

  Jimmy stopped walking and folded his arms in obvious frustration. "Look, Mr. Lancaster, Mrs. Lancaster, Harold has lived in that pond his entire life. He's treated like a king around here. The guy couldn't possibly have it any better. If you'd succeeded in setting him 'free in the ocean,' as you put it, he'd probably get eaten alive in just a couple of hours. Here he has no natural predators, and he can go about his turtle business with no worries. It's a pretty sweet life. Now then," Jimmy went on, "do you promise me—both of you—to stay out of the pond from now on?"

  "How can you be so sure Harold's content in his current situation?" Freddy sounded suspicious.

  "We have a sea life vet come in twice a month to check on him. Old Harold is in prime condition, folks." Freddy and Dolly looked at each other a long beat.

  Freddy raised his right hand in a pledge of honor then made an X over his soggy chest with his left. "I swear to stay out of the pond and to leave Harold alone from now on."

  Jimmy turned to Dolly.

  She drew her mouth into a tight line. "You're sure he likes it here?"

  Jimmy nodded. "Positive."

  "Okay then. Ditto. I swear too." But she didn't seem all that happy about it."

  "Good. You can go about your business then," Jimmy said. "I imagine you'll want to go change unless you prefer smelling like pond water."

  Dolly and Freddy slogged their way across the lobby.

  Jimmy walked by us, shaking his head.

  "Good job, Jimmy. You handled that nicely," I said.

  Janet shook her head. "The Lancasters can be a handful."

  As he started to turn away, I called out. "Jimmy?"

  He stopped. "Yeah?"

  I lifted my hand toward all the activity and discussion going on in the lobby. "What's going on? What is all this?"

  "A local boy, prodigal son really, died mysteriously last night. Everyone's talking about it."

  Janet and I looked at each other. Val Markson. Everyone at the resort—maybe everyone on the island knew about the body in my backyard, and it seemed to be all they could talk about.

  It was upsetting, and remembering what happened to my business the last time someone died on my watch, I could only hope no actual connection would be made between what had happened and either me or my business.

  We slowly made our way toward the travel agency where Koma's twin and my only other employee, Lana, leaned against the edge of her desk in hushed conversation with Kaley Kalua, the manager of the Happy Hula Dress Boutique here at Aloha Lagoon Resort.

  Kaley was saying. "I knew him. You remember? He was that dreamy guy,"—she glanced at Lana for corroboration—"one of the Poipu Beachboys? He taught surfing and took people out in the outriggers, right?"

  Lana nodded solemnly, looking up as Janet and I walked in.

  "You're talking about Val Markson too," Janet said.

  Again, Lana nodded. "Yes. He's dead."

  I let out a breath. "Yes, he is. And he died in my yard."

  "Oh, no," Lana's jaw dropped. "Really?"

  "How did you know him?" I directed my question at both Lana and Kaley.

  Kaley shrugged. "Just about everybody on the island knew Val. Well, at least just about every girl on the island."

  Lana added, "When he left to go do that,"—she seemed to be having trouble finding appropriate words—"that other thing, it was all anybody on the island could talk about. A real scandal."

  "Really? And what did you say he was doing back here, Jan?"

  "Like I told the detective. He came back because of Chelsea Westport," Janet said. "At least that's what he'd told me."

  Kaley's big brown eyes widened as Janet spoke. "He came back here for another woman? Oh, geez, poor Mele." She cast a forlorn look at Lana whose expression was every bit as sad.

  "Do you think she knows? They say she never got over him," Lana said.

  "Are you kidding?" Kaley said. "Haven't you been out to the lobby? Everybody's talking about it. Word spreads like wildfire around here."

  Janet commiserated. "Oh, Mele. That poor girl. She must have been devastated."

  I was the only clueless one in the room. "Mele Hale?" So lost and getting more so by the second. "What did Mele have to do with him?"

  "What didn't she have to do with him?" Lana said.

  I lifted my hands, palms up. "If I knew I wouldn't be asking."

  "Gabby," Lana said softly. "Val and Mele were going to be married. Everything was all set. Two people born on the island, him from a long time family of settlers, her from a long time family of native Hawaiians. It was going to be the wedding of the year."

  "What happened?" I asked.

  Lana looked sad. "Val had always been kind of wild. Always wanted more than island life had to offer. None of us, including Auntie Ona, thought he was a good match for my cousin. But Mele was so in love with him."

  Kaley interrupted. "I heard some woman who ran an escort service back on the mainland showed up here and convinced Val he was too cool, too good-looking, too studly to waste himself pulling kids around on surfboards and rubbing suntan oil on old ladies' backs for five-dollar tips. She sold him on a life spent escorting women around to glittering parties and spectacular events."

  Kaley shrugged. "So he left the island. And he left Mele."

  Lana's voice was low, soft. "Bro
ke it off with her and left."

  I said, "Oh, poor Mele."

  Lana shook her head. "Yeah. Mele changed big time after that. It crushed her."

  Janet almost seemed to be speaking to herself. "I bet that was why he came here, to see if there was a way to apologize and explain himself."

  Kaley said, "I'm not sure that at this late stage of the game that would make any difference."

  "Yes," Lana said. "Apology or not, Mele was still made a fool in front of all her family and friends." Her lovely voice had lost its musical overtones and turned grim. "If anyone had a good reason to kill Val Markson, it was my cousin Mele."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Janet gasped. "Wait. Not that shrinking violet we met yesterday." She shrugged. "Guess it's true then."

  We all looked at her and waited for Janet to finish.

  And when she did, it wasn't pretty. "I wonder if she killed him. They say it's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for." She sighed and sat in one of the gorgeous canvas director's chairs I'd had embroidered with the name of the agency. If I sold the business, I wondered if they'd let me keep those chairs. "I feel so bad about Val. No matter what he did years ago, he was a friend of mine. And he'd decided to make amends. I wonder if he somehow had the chance to do it before…" She left it hanging.

  "You said Val was here because of Chelsea Westport." I had to wonder. "Did she want to, uh, date him?"

  Janet just shrugged. "You saw him, what red-blooded woman wouldn't?"

  Kaley nodded. "From what I've heard about Val Markson, he knew a lot about getting to know women."

  Lana said, "Auntie Ona hated him for what he did. Mele used to be fun and lively. But she closed herself off, quit school, quit social activities, and she's so nervous now. Like skittish, you know. Auntie Ona had been training Mele to take over the important role of island storyteller. It was her legacy. But Mele lost interest in everything. It was a long time before she came out of her shell even a little."

  "Ona is so outgoing and fun. I never understood what made Mele so solemn. Now I get it," I said.

  Kaley excused herself to get back to work at the Happy Hula Dress Boutique.

  I looked at the clock on the wall, the one with the big pineapple in the middle that said, Running on Island Time. If they weren't running on island time, a few members of the consortium would be expecting Janet and me momentarily in the Pikake Room where they'd be sitting down with me to go over my financials and quiz me on how things were working out between me and (what I thought of as the perfect location) Aloha Lagoon Resort.

  "Lana, will you be all right until Koma gets back? He shouldn't be long."

  "Of course." She smiled. "I'm on it, Gabby." She went to her desk, sat down, and put on her headset.

  I also went to my desk, took a folder from the top drawer, and then Janet and I headed across the hotel lobby to the wing where the conference rooms were located. I'd called Rachel Wein, the resort's assistant manager, and reserved the Pikake Room, a small private area with a beautiful view onto the resort's courtyard. If everything had been taken care of as I'd requested, there would be Kona coffee, fresh fruit juice, and a couple dozen of Liam and Ellen Bentley's yummy scones brought over from their bakery.

  I had to look at my watch to make sure we weren't running late. We weren't. Janet and I had arrived ten minutes early, but the members of the consortium, all eleven of them were already there. Obviously not running on island time.

  I swallowed hard, suddenly as nervous as a freshman on her first day of college, and the weird part of that was I had absolutely no explanation why.

  * * *

  "How do you think it went?"

  The group meeting was over, and Janet and I were heading over to the Loco Moco for lunch.

  Keanu Church, the café manager, greeted us as we walked in. "Hey, Gabby." He gave us one of his million watt smiles. "Lunch?"

  "Hey, Keanu. How're things with you?"

  "Pretty good, I guess. You hear about what happened to the beachboy?"

  "Val Markson," I said. "Yeah. I didn't know him."

  "It's a shame," he said.

  Keanu led us across the café toward a table by the open breezeway. At one of the tables we walked by, Bobby Pukui and Detective Ray sat with Ona and Mele Hale. The expression on Ona's face was neutral. On the other hand, Mele's face was all screwed up, her nose red and swollen.

  Ona's voice was loud and harsh, and carried all over the café. "A man like that one? It was bound to happen sooner or later. They call it karma, you know. It all comes back."

  Bobby got this funny look on his face. "Sistah, come on. Don't talk like that. The man's dead and gone."

  Ona made a disgusted face at her brother, pushed back from the table, stood and stalked out, the steady rhythm of her cane knocking against the floor warning those less purposeful in front of her that she was on her way. That left Bobby, Detective Ray, and Mele alone at the table.

  I looked up to see Keanu waiting at the side of an empty table. I used my elbow to nudge Janet in the ribs, and when we sat, Keanu handed us menus. But we were both so interested in what was going on over at Detective Ray's table, we didn't even open them.

  Bobby watched as Ona made it to the café entrance before he stood, leaned down to say something beside Ray's ear, then hurried out after Ona. Detective Ray was now alone at the table with Mele, who suddenly wailed and came apart like a pup tent in a hurricane.

  She buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook, and she sobbed and sobbed as if her heart had broken in two. The look of surprise and panic on Detective Ray's face was priceless, or at least that's what I thought until his eyes began to sweep the room and finally came to a rest on me.

  He crooked a finger at me and jerked his head, motioning me to come.

  I looked to my right then left, and my index finger landed on my breastbone, "Me?" I said out loud.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Detective Ray bobbed his head vigorously, so I excused myself to Janet, got up from the table, and walked over.

  Mele was still crying, sobbing into her hands.

  Ray's eyebrows lifted. He mouthed Help as his eyes shifted in Mele's direction.

  Looking from him to Mele and back, I shrugged and gave him a questioning look. What did he want me to do? This was his job, not mine. Weren't cops trained to deal with hysterical women?

  But there was no doubting the panic inscribed on his face, also no doubting the sad state poor Mele was in. My heart went out to her, and that sealed my fate.

  I sat down in the empty chair beside her, put one arm around her, and began to speak softly. "I'm so sorry, Mele. But it'll be all right."

  To my surprise, she leaned over, threw her arms around me, and laid her head on my shoulder, sobbing harder than before. Was this helping her at all? I patted her back—albeit somewhat awkwardly—and shot an irritated look at Detective Ray. I'd never been all that good at being the sympathetic soul, and I couldn't be sure I wasn't making things worse. Finally, Mele's sobs seemed to calm a little. She unclutched me, and I took in a deep breath.

  "Are you feeling better?" I risked a quick look at my aloha blouse, grateful for Mele's inattention to her appearance—no makeup or mascara smears where she'd laid her head.

  "Sorry." She looked down at her lap where the fingers on one hand plucked at the other. Her voice was so soft, I barely heard what she said.

  Before she could say anything else, Detective Ray took over. "Sorry, Miss Hale, but I have a few questions to ask you."

  She shifted her puffy-eyed gaze back to him and sniffled.

  Detective Ray began. "Would it be accurate to say Val Markson, uh, abandoned you?"

  She looked back down at her hands and nodded.

  His tone was accusing. "I imagine that made you angry. I know I'd be angry if that happened to me."

  Mele gulped but didn't answer, didn't even look up.

  Something rather fierce rose up in me. Couldn't he see she had taken the news o
f Val's death so hard she could barely function?

  I opened my mouth to speak but stopped when Detective Ray lifted his hand in my direction, pointing his index finger at me. Really? You call me over here then have the nerve to shush me? What's up with that? Nevertheless, I swallowed the objection I'd been about to make.

  Janet quietly walked up behind Detective Ray who sat waiting with uncharacteristic patience. He said her name only once to prompt an answer to his question. "Mele?"

  Mele sighed, her chin remained lowered, her eyes downcast. "Val and I grew up together. His mother and mine were friends. I think I must have loved him since we were four. We were in Bible school together. When we got out of high school, neither one of us wanted to go off to college and leave the other one."

  I felt fairly certain she was mistaken about Val not wanting to leave but didn't say anything.

  Mele finally lifted her head and looked at Detective Ray. "Val loved me a lot back then, we were planning our wedding. But every time the day got close, he changed it. He finally agreed on a date for the wedding." Her eyes went a little dreamy as she glanced up and looked out the open doors at the beach. "It was going to be so beautiful. I picked out a traditional white dress. My mom insisted the whole thing be island style. She invited everybody from all over."

  Mele began to have more and more trouble speaking. "But just weeks before the wedding, he had me meet him at Lovers' Leap. He said I'd be making a mistake if I married him, that he wasn't ready to settle down, and he didn't want to hurt me." She smiled sadly. "But that hurt worse than anything."

  Detective Ray crossed his arms and studied her, his expression noncommittal. "Just one more question, Mele. Where were you last night between the hours of eleven p.m. and three a.m. when the victim died?"

  Mele sat very still, her only movement the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing seemed to grow more erratic. Her gaze was locked onto Detective Ray's. She didn't answer.

  "Mele?" Again he had to prompt her.

  The silence stretched out awkwardly, and I became aware of the café noises—conversation, dishes rattling, music playing at low volume.