Chapter 4
Ascream erupts from my throat, so loud and strong, it could be heard by tourists in Honolulu.
It’s the kind of shriek that sends seabirds fleeing for the next island and makes the roosters run for cover.
Even Spam, the one-eared orange menace, bolts from his perch by the pool like his tail is on fire.
I scramble backward from Alana’s body as if she’s suddenly developed the ability to critique my hosting skills from beyond the grave.
Another spontaneous cry of terror rips from my throat and echoes off the water right back at me, which only makes me scream that much harder. Night has fallen and so has another body at the Coconut Cove Paradise Resort.
Koa appears so fast, I’m pretty sure he teleported. Either that, or he was lurking behind a hibiscus bush waiting for me to trip over another corpse, which honestly wouldn’t surprise me at this point.
“I told you to behave yourself,” he says, landing on his knees and checking the woman for a pulse before offering a grim look my way. He pulls out his phone while surveying the scene with professional calm despite the fact that his chest is heaving. “What did you do?”
“Technically, I didn’t do anything,” I pant, still on my hands and knees in the sand. “I just tripped over evidence.”
“I can see that.” He reaches over and picks up my hand. “Jinx, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m just a little shook up.”
“You’re doing better than her, then,” he says as he dials for backup.
“This is Detective Hale. I need a full forensics team at Coconut Cove Paradise Resort. We have a homicide.” He pauses, listening to the response.
“No, it’s not the same woman who found the last body.
Well, actually, it is, but—” He quickly rattles off a quick synopsis of the scene to whoever is on the other end before tapping his phone and burying it in his pocket.
“Do you have some kind of supernatural ability to find dead bodies, or is this just impressively bad luck?”
“I prefer to think of it as having a talent for uncovering the truth.” I wince. “Very dramatically and with a dead body or two for emphasis.”
He squints down at the maile lei wrapped around Alana’s neck like a deadly necklace, the waxy green leaves and thin vines—usually a symbol of respect and honor—twisted into an elaborate noose. “Strangled with a lei. The killer either has a sick sense of irony or really poor cultural understanding.”
“Given that she spent the evening explaining how traditional Hawaiian elements were too ethnic for modern audiences, I’d say the irony is intentional.” Or not, but for some reason it felt necessary to point that out.
Koa looks up at me with one brow raised. “That’s disturbingly perceptive.”
“I’ve had practice. Dead people tend to be very educational about motives—especially after practically causing a scene with ten different people not even an hour ago.”
He frowns at me. “We’ll talk.”
Flip-flops slap against sand as Ruby and Lani run across the beach, then skid to a halt when they spot Alana’s corpse.
“Oh, Jinx,” Ruby gasps, “you killed the wrong person!”
Lani nods vigorously. “We were all rooting for you to throttle your ex-husband, not his business manager!”
“I didn’t throttle anyone!” I protest, struggling to stand as I brush the sand off my knees. “I just tripped over her.”
“Well, that’s disappointing,” Ruby says, adjusting her hibiscus-print caftan. “Although I suppose strangling Erwin would have been too obvious.”
“Drowning would have been my choice,” I say.
“But it would have been bad for business,” Lani adds. “Dead grooms don’t pay their bills.”
Koa pauses his investigation to stare at us. “Are you three seriously discussing murder methods at an active crime scene?”
“Yes,” we say in unison.
Police sirens wail in the distance, growing closer with supernatural speed. Within minutes, the beach is swarming with officers carrying evidence kits and wearing expressions that suggest they were prepared for this exact scenario.
“They got here awfully fast,” I’m loath to point out. “Were they lurking on the sidelines waiting for someone to die?”
“We may have been strategically positioned around the resort tonight,” Koa admits.
“You expected this?”
“Let’s just say when you combine alcohol, family drama, and people with questionable ethics—we like to be prepared.”
Ruby snorts. “Smart man. You’ve clearly met Jinx’s ex-husband, Erwin.”
He nods. “And I’ve clearly met Jinx.”
I gasp at the insinuation.
Like a demon summoned by the mention of his name, Erwin appears through the palm trees, swaying slightly and clutching a half-empty cocktail.
Candy trails behind him, still carrying her ring light like a technological security blanket, her platinum hair catching the police strobes in a way that’s most likely giving her ideas about new content opportunities.
Erwin takes one look at the crime scene tape and immediately zeroes in on me with laser-focused accusation. “Jinx, what did you do now? Did you stage this to ruin our wedding?”
The silence that follows is so heavy that even the waves seem to pause mid-crash.
“Yes, Erwin,” I say with an exaggerated patience usually reserved for explaining basic concepts to houseplants. “I personally murdered Alana to inconvenience your destination wedding. Because clearly, everything revolves around you and your profound impact on the universe.”
“This is just like you,” he continues, immune to sarcasm. “You can’t stand to see me happy, just because—”
“Wait, baby,” Candy interrupts, finally noticing the body sprawled in the sand. “Is that actually a dead person? Is that really Alana? Should I be filming this? This has the potential to go viral!”
She raises her phone with that silly ring light of hers blazing like the sun, and I watch Koa’s jaw tick with restraint, calculating whether arresting the bride-to-be for disturbing a crime scene would generate too much paperwork.
“Ma’am, please step back,” he says with an admirable level of control, but a wise person might also detect the threat layered in there, too.
Erwin takes a step closer.
I said a wise person.
“But the lighting is just perfect right now! The way the moonlight dances on her cheeks… She always did have the very best shimmer face oil on hand. She really knows how to spotlight her best features.” Candy adjusts the angle of her phone for maximum dramatic effect.
“This could be amazing for my reels—think of it now—love conquers tragedy! The human-interest metrics would be incredible!”
Human interest metrics? And yet she sounds about as warm as a robot.
I gape at her. “Your business manager is dead, and you’re worried about engagement rates?”
She lifts her chin in defiance. “Alana would have wanted me to turn this into positive brand messaging,” she hisses my way. “She was very dedicated to my platform growth. This is exactly the kind of raw content that builds a genuine connection with followers.”
A rooster chooses this moment to crow from somewhere behind the crime scene, offering his commentary on the homicidal shenanigans afoot.
Two cats—Pineapple and what looks like a new orange tabby with two intact ears—slink through the police officers’ legs like a couple of furry investigators conducting their own examination of the evidence.
“Even the wildlife thinks this is ridiculous,” Ruby mutters.
The crowd of wedding guests and police officers parts to reveal Bertha stomping this way with her trademark scowl and handbag big enough to hide a body. She surveys the scene with a look of disdain—her go-to expression.
And oddly, I can’t help but note that Bertha doesn’t look shocked, or stunned, or even slightly horrified. She doesn’t gasp, or ask what happened, or express any of the normal human reactions that stumbling across a murder scene might require.
Figures. She’s either playing dumb or a stone-cold killer. Honestly, in this case, two things can be true.
Bertha stands in complete silence, staring down at Alana’s body with an expression that can only be described as satisfied, as a tiny smile plays at the corners of her mouth.
She adjusts her purse, and I swear I catch a glimpse of something that might be maile leaves sticking out from the top.
Okay, fine, it’s probably just my overactive imagination, and the fact that I may have fantasized a time or two putting Bertha away behind bars.
Don’t judge. Some people really do belong in cages.
Okay, so that was harsh too, but I’m running off mai tai fumes and am officially suspect number one in a homicide investigation.
As much as Koa might believe I’m innocent, I’m the one who conveniently discovered the body.
That puts me right at the top of the list. Trust me, I know the drill.
“Well,” Bertha finally says, breaking the silence. “I suppose that solves one problem.”
Everyone turns her way. Even the cats stop their investigation to give her their full attention.
“What?” she continues defensively. “The woman was insufferable. At least now we won’t have to listen to her lecture us about cultural messaging anymore.”
I’ll admit there’s that, but I wouldn’t dare say it out loud.
“Bertha,” I say just above a whisper, “this might not be the time.”
“I call it like I see it, Jinx. Some people improve the world by leaving it.”
A collective gasp circles the crowd.
Before anyone can unpack that disturbing philosophy, Della appears through the palm fronds like a sparkly apparition.
“Oh, my goodness!” she cries while pressing a hand to her chest. “This is exactly like the song I was performing tonight! It’s like life imitating art!
The universe always speaks through creative expression.
” She nods vigorously as if she’s in the homicidal know.
And it makes me wonder if she is indeed in the know—because she caused the scene to play out in the first place.
“The universe needs better communication skills,” Ruby deadpans.
“Far less lethal ones,” I add.