Chapter 19
I’m still standing on the lava rocks, phone in hand, my heart hammering against my ribs as everything cracks open at once like a coconut hit at exactly the right angle.
The luau music drifts over the waves. Ukuleles and laughter and the sizzle of food on the grills infiltrate my senses.
The air smells like Kalua pork and plumeria, sweet and savory mixing with the salt spray from the ocean.
Tiki torches flicker across the sand, and the sky has deepened from pink to purple to almost black as the stars begin to punch through like pinholes in velvet.
I shoot a text to Koa.
Jinx: I think I know who the killer is.
Three dots appear immediately.
Koa: Where are you?
Jinx: By the lava rocks.
Koa: Stay there. I’m on my way.
The sound of men’s laughter comes from the opposite end of the cove as familiar voices carry over the crashing waves, and I see the exact men I’m looking to accuse. I mean, talk to. Definitely just talk to.
“Come on,” I say to Spam as if he’s my partner in crime-busting. And, right about now, he’s the only show in town.
Spam, ace detective. Possible accomplice. Definitely better at his job than I am.
He meows once, which I’m choosing to interpret as obviously, let’s go confront a killer together. But most likely he said take me to the poke.
Considering he’s helped me out significantly a time or two, or three, when it comes to confronting killers, this furry little beast is worth his weight in tuna.
We make our way down the beach, where Gary, Cam, and Tom are standing in a cluster near the water’s edge, all three wearing matching Hawaiian shirts in hibiscus prints in various shades of blue and green, each sporting kukui nut necklaces, the glossy brown shells glittering in the moonlight like they’re dressed for a celebration rather than a confrontation with an amateur sleuth who’s figured out a dark secret or two—or three.
Their jovial conversation stops cold once they spot me coming, and they offer a cheerful wave, each holding a cocktail that looks tropical and delicious.
“Jinx!” Cam calls out with his politician’s smile. “Great event! The turnout is incredible.”
Nothing says innocent like complimenting the woman about to accuse you of murder.
“We can’t thank you enough for hosting,” Gary adds, adjusting his glasses. “Even though tragedy struck, you’ve really pulled this together beautifully.”
“Accidents happen,” Tom says, taking a sip of his mai tai.
“Well, it was a tragedy,” I say slowly, stopping a few feet away from them. Spam sits at my feet with his tail twitching—probably wondering where the tuna is. “But it wasn’t exactly an accident, was it?”
The three men exchange glances.
“I have to say,” I continue, “you three are pretty special husbands. You really would do anything for your wives.”
They nod, looking pleased with themselves.
“We try,” Cam says modestly.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Tom adds with a chuckle.
“Oh, but I think I do,” I say, examining each of them carefully. “You’d do anything for your wives. But you’d do anything for yourselves as well.”
Their jovial expressions start to crack around the edges.
“Tom,” I say, turning to him with the confidence of a woman who just spent twenty minutes scrolling through news archives.
“There are three articles linking your law firm to organized crime defense work in New England. Three cases where key evidence went missing before trial. The prosecutors never say your name out loud, but everyone knows. And Debbie Lee knew.”
Tom’s jaw tightens until I can see the muscle jumping along his temple. He doesn’t say a word, which is exactly what a lawyer says when he’s been caught.
“Gary.” I shift my focus, and Gary’s hand stills around his glass.
“Federal insurance fraud investigation. 2022. Two of your former office staff filed whistleblower complaints. The Bangor Daily News covered the settlement when it broke—half a million dollars, no admission of wrongdoing, and a three-month suspension of your medical license. But you and I both know nobody pays half a million dollars to clear up a misunderstanding.”
Gary adjusts his glasses with a hand that’s not quite steady. “Now, listen here—”
“I’m not finished.” I turn to the mayor.
“Cam. Your three biggest campaign donors all own land that got rezoned for resort development right after your re-election. It’s all in the public records.
Maine’s campaign finance database. The county zoning board minutes.
It’s all sitting right there for anyone who knows what to look for. ”
Cam’s smile finally drops, and what’s underneath it is colder than anything I’ve ever seen on a tropical island.
“Three of you,” I say. “Three careers built on lies. Three marriages about to detonate on national television. Three men with everything to lose if Debbie Lee opened her mouth one more time.” A thought hits me.
“Wait a minute.” I take a step closer, my brain firing on all cylinders now.
“Tom and Gary, you were sleeping with Debbie Lee, weren’t you? ”
The two guilty parties exchange a look that tells me everything I need to know.
“You thought you could control her through her body,” I say, the pieces falling into place faster now. “But she blackmailed you instead. She took control of you. All three of you. She had your careers in her hands. Your reputations, your futures, everything. And she was squeezing.”
I gasp as another piece slides into place. “Cam. You too? She was sleeping with all three of you, wasn’t she?”
Cam’s jaw tightens, and that’s all the confirmation I need.
“The three of you were so very easy for her to nail down. And I do mean that in the most literal way.”
“This is ridiculous,” Gary says, but he’s sweating, and it’s not just from the humidity.
“Bubbles pointed me in the right direction,” I continue.
“And the rest was sitting right there on my phone. Tom, your firm and the missing evidence. Gary, your federal investigation. Cam, your developer donors and rezoning windfalls.” I tick them off on my fingers.
“She had all of you by the macadamia nuts. So you decided to remove the problem.”
“We didn’t—” Tom starts.
“Yes, you did.” My voice is steady now, certain. “Which one of you killed her?”
The three of them exchange a look. A long, loaded silence that speaks volumes.
I gasp. “You were all in on it!”
A beat of silence goes by, and even the ocean seems to have silenced its rage against the shore long enough to listen in.
“That’s right.” Tom sheds his friendly demeanor like a snake shedding skin as a dark smile spreads across his face. “We were all in on it.”
“What are you doing?” Cam snaps, his politician’s mask shattering like glass. “I thought we were taking this to the grave?”
“We are,” Gary growls, his mild-mannered doctor persona evaporating. “But it just so happens this little lady is going to get to the cemetery first.”
He lunges at me.
Spam yowls and launches himself at Gary’s leg with his claws extended, his teeth bared as he hisses, attacking with the fury of a cat who takes his crime-busting partnership very seriously.
“Jinx!” Koa’s voice thunders from the other end of the cove.
I’m about to shout back when Gary’s hand clamps over my mouth, his other arm wrapping around my waist as he lifts me off the ground.
“They’ll think she drowned,” Gary snarls, dragging me toward the water.
“And we’ll make sure she does,” Cam says with a resigned sigh as he follows suit.
I kick and claw, but Gary has at least eighty pounds on me and medical knowledge about how to restrain struggling patients.
Spam is still attached to his leg, yowling and scratching, and suddenly there are more cats.
Coconut, Pineapple, Mango, the gray tabby I think I’ll call Mochi because she’s soft, squishy, and irresistible.
They appear from nowhere and launch themselves at the three men like a furry, feral SWAT team with zero training.
Tom grabs me from Gary and hoists me into the air just as a wave crashes over his midsection. He bucks from the impact, and I use the momentum to knee him hard in the groin.
Three years of yoga and one well-aimed knee. Worth every minute of downward dog.
He doubles over with a wheeze, and I tumble from his arms, scrambling through the shallow water and wet sand, dodging between them like I’m playing the world’s deadliest game of Marco Polo.
Footfalls thunder across the beach as Koa runs toward us with his gun drawn, his face a mask of controlled fury.
“Everybody freeze!” he shouts.
I run as fast as my legs will carry me, but Gary catches my ankle and sends me crashing to the sand. I wriggle free and try my best to crawl behind Koa as I gasp for breath.
“They all did it!” I shout with sand in my hair and saltwater in my mouth. “They confessed! Lock ‘em up forever!”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Tom snarls, and the three of them lunge at us together.
Koa fires three clean shots into the air.
The entire island seems to quake. The gunshots echo off the lava rocks and the sheer green mountains, silencing the luau music and the laughter and every sound except the waves and the ringing in my ears.
Within seconds, the rest of Kauai’s finest pour onto the beach like a wave of badges and boots, surrounding the three men with weapons drawn and shouting commands that carry over the surf.
The Spice Girls come running from the direction of the luau, their husbands’ names cracking from their lips like prayers gone wrong.
Cozy clamps a hand over her mouth. Doreen sinks to her knees.
Bubbles just stands there, her tote bag clutched to her chest, watching the moment she must have known was coming.
Spam pads across the wet sand and curls into my lap like he’s done a hard day’s work and earned every bite of fish he’s about to be offered.
It’s over.
It’s over for everybody.