Chapter 1 #3
Lani snorts, and it’s all I can do to keep from doing the same. Instead, I turn my attention back where it belongs.
“It’s always good to see you, Detective,” I give a sly wink as I play it coy.
Even though we’ve played tonsil hockey a time or two, I have no intention of flaunting that fact in front of my ex or his entourage of bodacious, beautiful women.
Again, it does beg the question, exactly how much money did Erwin fall into that I don’t know about?
Koa gives a sly wink my way in return, and suddenly Erwin is growling like a dog.
The good detective growls back without hesitation.
Koa and I clearly have a thing going. Erwin sees it. Of course, he sees it. The blind bats flying overhead can see it. And if it makes Erwin upset? Well, all the better.
“So,” Erwin says, his voice taking on that passive-aggressive edge I remember from every argument about whose turn it was to take out the trash, “how long have you two known each other?”
“We met shortly after I arrived,” I reply.
Like the second I got off the plane. There might have been a tussle over luggage, but I leave that part out.
“And you’ve worked together on murder investigations?” Erwin looks more than mildly alarmed, as he should be.
Lani nods. “That’s generally what happens when dead bodies show up at her resort, so yes.”
Erwin makes a sound somewhere between a cough and a growl.
Candy gasps beside Erwin, her ring light wobbling slightly as she takes in Koa from head to toe.
“Oh my gosh, you’re a real detective?” She and her boobs practically lunge at poor Koa.
“That’s so—” She fans herself with her free hand.
“Erwin, babe, you didn’t tell me Hawaiian law enforcement was so photogenic. ”
Erwin straightens. “What my fiancée means is that I didn’t realize local law enforcement would be a part of wedding planning. But then again, there’s a lot about this week I didn’t anticipate.”
Candy expels a guttural sound as she wiggles her beach balls at Koa. “What I mean is, my followers would absolutely die to see island authority figures in some of my content. You have amazing bone structure. In fact, your entire body is very camera-friendly.”
Erwin turns colors that threaten to land him toes up in the morgue.
And me without my camera.
“I do love me a good detective.” Halea abandons Erwin’s side and immediately glides toward Koa as if gravity suddenly shifted in his direction.
Darn it. Why did I have to turn him onto her sites?
The woman is a passion bomb waiting to happen.
“How wonderful to meet one of Kauai’s finest!
I’m Halea Palani, and I have to say, island law enforcement is much more attractive than I expected. ”
I shoot her a look for stating the obvious.
She somehow manages to position herself so that her impressive cleavage is at an optimal viewing angle while maintaining eye contact. It’s a skill that should probably be studied by physicists, and well, me.
I shoot Erwin a look, too, for not only surrounding himself with the most beautiful women he could find, but with the most amply endowed.
Koa’s expression doesn’t change, but I catch a slight tightening around his eyes that suggests he’s categorizing Halea under potential professional headache. Or at least, I’m hoping. Although that’s not saying much, considering that’s the exact category he files me under.
“Ma’am,” he says politely to the woman. “Enjoy your stay on the island.”
“Oh, I plan to,” she replies with a smile that could melt steel—and peel the pants off a lesser man. “Perhaps you could show me some of the more... intimate local spots? I’m always interested in cultural immersion, and I would love a private tour.”
I clear my throat without meaning to. Okay, fine, I meant to, but it was either that or tossing her to the chickens.
Private tour? I’m pretty sure she’s not talking about museums.
Ugh. If that woman gets to second base with him before I do, I’ll officially retire from the dating scene and become a cat lady. The resort cats are already halfway trained.
I catch Spam eyeing me from the windowsill.
Another car arrives—this time an airport shuttle van that looks like it’s seen better decades. The door slides open with a mechanical wheeze, and out steps a woman who makes the phrase force of nature seem like an understatement.
I gasp so hard, I think I just inhaled an entire swarm of mosquitoes. Because just like that, a nuke has dropped in front of us, and as it stands, Coconut Cove Paradise Resort just turned into ground zero.
Big Bertha Julep is seventy-something years of floral polyester and orthopedic shoe authority.
Her short steel-gray hair is set in a permanent wave that could survive a category five hurricane, and she’s carrying a purse large enough to conceal a small tank.
She surveys the resort grounds with a critical eye usually reserved for crime scenes.
And well, since the resort has been a crime scene a time or two, I’d say her radar was pretty much on target.
“Well, well, well,” she sneers at the chickens, the roosters, and the cats, “this is certainly... rustic.”
“Mother!” Erwin hurries over to help her with her suitcase, which appears to weigh approximately as much as a compact car. “How was the flight?”
“Turbulent. Like everything else in this family.” Her gaze lands on me with an accusatory look. “Hello, Justine. I see you’re still managing things. Or is it mismanaging that you’re doing?”
There’s enough subtext in that sentence to write a dissertation—and write a murder mystery, too. I’m sensing a theme. Speaking of which, where’s the Grim Reaper when you really need him?
I jest.
Mostly.
“Hello, Bertha.” I manage to keep my voice level. “Welcome to the Coconut Cove Paradise Resort.”
“Hmm.” She takes in the transformed pool area, the tropical flowers, the tiki torches, and the general organized chaos of wedding preparation just beyond the lobby doors.
“I suppose it’s an improvement from when you and Erwin were married.
At least now there’s some effort being made toward proper event planning. ”
Ruby scoffs at the thought.
“The accommodations are adequate, I trust?” Bertha continues, her tone suggesting that adequate would be a minor miracle.
“Your suite is ready,” I confirm. “I can show you—”
“Oh my goodness, are you the mother of the groom?” Candy appears beside us, ring light in hand, the bright white circle already trained on her face.
“This is perfect! I absolutely have to get some content with three generations of strong women! Bertha, Sphynx, and me—it’s like a beautiful story of family evolution! ”
First, I’m not shocked she hasn’t met Bertha yet. Heck, she’s hardly met Erwin yet. Second, how exactly is this a generational picture? And third, Sphynx, really? Although I must admit, it’s a slight improvement from Jinx.
Bertha’s expression suggests she’s witnessing the decline of Western civilization in real time. That’s because she is. “I hardly think—” she begins.
“The lighting is absolutely perfect right now,” Candy continues, already positioning her glowing instrument of terror. “Sphynx, could you stand over here? Bertha, get right beside her! This is going to be such a heartwarming shot!”
“I’d rather not—” I start. “I actually don’t qualify for a generational—”
“Oh, come on!” Candy interrupts with a tidal wave of positivity. “It’s all about celebrating family bonds and new beginnings. My followers love emotional content!”
Alana appears at Candy’s shoulder. “I think we should focus on content that centers around your narrative. Including the ex-wife might send confusing messaging about relationship dynamics.”
I mouth a silent thank you to the woman even though she doesn’t bother to look my way.
The trade winds have picked up, making the tiki torch flames dance and causing Halea’s hair to flow as if she’s in a slow-motion music video.
She’s somehow positioned herself so that Detective Koa is directly in her line of sight—and the sight of her cleavage—while she adjusts her dress in ways that seem entirely unnecessary.
If her boobs fall out of that glorified scarf she’s wearing, this picture is going to be fit for another type of content entirely.
Not that she was in the shot, but I have a feeling with Candy this will be inevitable.
“I think everyone needs to take a breath,” Lani announces, her practical voice cutting through the chaos. “And maybe some iced tea. It’s too hot for this much drama.”
“Drama?” Alana’s tone could slice glass. “I’m simply ensuring professional standards for a luxury event. Some of us understand that successful content creation requires strategic thinking.”
“Some of us understand that we’re in Hawaii,” Ruby replies, “not a sound stage in Los Angeles.”
“Ohio,” Candy corrects. “That’s the nice thing about the internet. You can be a content queen from your mattress.”
For a second, I envy her. Calling herself a queen and admitting your mattress is your throne is honestly life goals stuff for me.
Pineapple, the cute yellow kitty, chooses this moment to yawn and relocate to a shadier spot, as tired of human nonsense as the rest of us should be. And yet Spam purrs from his perch, relishing the drama at hand. Something tells me this is going to be the best week of his orange life.
And the worst week of mine.
Alana looks my way. “We’ll need fewer palm trees.
We can’t risk a palm frond falling in our footage.
” She takes a look around at the resort with its tiki this, and rattan that, and the totem pole that’s sticking its tongue out at her, and she scowls.
“Please tone down the cultural elements, would you?”
“The cultural elements aren’t negotiable,” I find myself saying. “This is Hawaii. The resort respects that.”
Alana’s smile has all the warmth of a January morning in Alaska. “How quaint. I’m sure we can find ways to honor your questionable commitment to authenticity while creating content that appeals to a broader, more sophisticated audience.”
The way she says sophisticated makes it sound like a weapon.
Koa clears his throat. “I think I’ll conduct that security check and get out of your way. Let me know if you need anything, Jinx.”
“Jinx?” Erwin huffs as he turns my way. “On a first-name basis with the detective so soon?”
Koa raises a brow my way, and his eyes enlarge just enough to let me know he’s questioning my past, and wondering how many bodies I’ve stumbled upon prior to our homicidal meet and greet.
“Actually,” Halea purrs, latching onto Koa’s arm, “I’d love to discuss island safety protocols. Perhaps over dinner? I’m very interested in how you handle handcuffs.”
He fights back either a smile or a grimace. “I’m not sure we’ll have time. Have a good evening.” He nods to our small, yet oddball group.
He heads toward the beach, and Halea watches him go with an appreciation usually reserved for fine art or expensive wine. She would so be right on both accounts.
“Wow, is he gorgeous,” she murmurs. “I do love a man in uniform. Even when he’s not wearing one. And heaven knows I’d much rather see him without a stitch of anything on.”
A hostile growl rips from my throat, and both Lani and Ruby hold me back.
A rooster crows, and an entire row of chickens strut by, demanding front row seats to the bloodbath that will inevitably ensue.
“Is everyone ready to see their accommodations?” I ask, mostly because if I don’t redirect these lunatics, somebody is going to end up in the koi pond, and it might be me.
“Absolutely!” Candy raises her ring light again. “I want to document the entire Hawaiian resort experience! This is going to be such an amazing week of content!”
Bertha picks up her suitcase-sized purse and follows the group toward the main building. As she passes me, she leans in close enough for me to smell her talcum powder and passive aggression.
“I do hope you can manage to get through the week without any of your usual complications, dear.” She continues walking, leaving me with the distinct feeling that if complications do arise, she’ll make sure everyone knows exactly who to blame.
The roosters start crowing again, the trade winds carry the scent of approaching evening rain, and somewhere in the distance, I can hear the waves hitting the shore with a rhythm that usually means a storm is coming.
Is it bad that I hope it’s a hurricane?
Seven days until the unholy deed is done, which means far too many hours of managing my ex-husband’s destination wedding, his passive-aggressive mother, his artificial fiancée, her cultural-appropriation-expert business partner, and a wedding planner who could seduce a statue.
What could possibly go wrong?
Everything.
Have I mentioned murder?