Chapter 18
In less than five minutes, I watch as the tourists finish their conversation with Giselle and wander off toward the fire dancers who just showed up to light up the night, leaving my mark standing alone by the dessert table with a plate piled dangerously high with desserts.
Perfect timing.
My feet carry me over, and I quickly grab a small plate of my own and scoop up a few pieces of haupia pudding as if I’m just another guest working my way through the buffet.
Haupia is the consistency of Jell-O, but think coconut pudding.
It’s traditionally made in sheet pans and cut into cubes to be enjoyed by the masses.
It’s actually one of my favorite sweet treats since coming to the island.
“This stuff is dangerous,” I say, gesturing to the coconut pudding as I sidle up next to her. “I’ve had three pieces already, and I’m seriously considering a fourth and a fifth and an eleventh.”
“Oh, Jinx.” Giselle gives a little laugh, and even then, her French accent seems to come through. “It’s the coconut milk. Very rich, very decadent. In Paris, we would never serve something so indulgent without at least pretending to feel guilty about it.”
“The nice thing about Hawaii is nobody pretends to feel guilty about anything involving coconut.” I sample the haupia, letting a comfortable silence settle between us. Mmm. The haupia is perfection. “How are you enjoying the luau? Better than the mai tai competition, I hope.”
Her smile tightens just slightly. “Much better. It’s far less dramatic.”
“That’s one word for it.” I pause, watching a rooster investigate the area under the buffet table with intense focus. “Poor Coraline. I really wish she could have been here to enjoy it. I know you two had some history—food industry connections, professional circles, that kind of thing?”
“We’d crossed paths at events,” Giselle says carefully, her attention suddenly very focused on arranging the desserts on her plate. “The culinary world is smaller than people think.”
“I bet. Especially at her level—she must have tried everything, been everywhere.” I keep my tone light and conversational. “I heard she was actually a pretty serious food critic before the TV show. Really knowledgeable about technique, classical training, that sort of thing.”
Something flickers across Giselle’s face, and I wonder if it’s tension or worry.
“She had very strong opinions regarding just about everything,” Giselle says, her accent thickening slightly. “Very strong opinions about authenticity, about giving proper credit for culinary innovations.”
“She sounds like she was a very intense person.” I take another bite of the cool haupia, letting the silence stretch and appreciating the creamy coconut melting in my mouth.
“It must have been nerve-wracking having her judge the competition. Someone with that kind of expertise, that attention to detail...”
Giselle sets down her plate, and I notice her hands are not quite steady.
“She was very thorough,” Giselle says quietly. “Almost relentless in her pursuit of authenticity.”
“I’ve been hearing some interesting things,” I say, keeping my voice casual but watching her face carefully. “About your cookbook, actually. Those signature recipes—the rose and cardamom opera cake, the lavender honey tart, the pistachio mille-feuille.”
The color drains from her face faster than water from our resort’s questionable plumbing system.
“What about them?” Her voice comes out tight.
“People are saying they’re remarkably similar to another chef’s work. A French pastry chef named Marguerite Beaumont.” I pause. “Who died three years ago. Right around the time your cookbook came out. I guess those were also her signature recipes.”
Giselle’s perfectly manicured hand trembles as she reaches for her drink. “I don’t know what you’re implying—”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m asking directly.” I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “Coraline recognized those recipes, didn’t she? She confronted you about it at the competition. That’s what your very public argument was really about.”
“You don’t understand—” Giselle starts, but I cut her off.
“I understand that she was planning to expose you. That she threatened to destroy your career, your reputation, everything you’d built.” I keep my voice level and controlled. “You have quite the following. She was going to upend everything. That’s a pretty powerful motive for murder, Giselle.”
“Recipes can be very similar.” Her eyes spear mine with a not-so veiled threat.
“Yes, but these were so very specific. And it wasn’t so much the recipes themselves, it was the implications. You’ve built up quite a fanbase for yourself. Your fans trust you. To lose their trust could cost you everything.”
“I didn’t kill her!” The words burst out of her, sharp and panicked.
Giselle takes a breath, then straightens her shoulders. The fear shifts into something harder. Anger.
“Yes, I used Marguerite’s recipes. Yes, Coraline figured it out. And yes, she tried to blackmail me over it.” Her accent remains thick, but there’s steel underneath it now. “She demanded money—a lot of money—to keep quiet.”
“So, you killed her instead of paying?”
“I didn’t have to pay her.” Giselle’s voice turns cold. “Because I’d already reached an agreement with Marguerite’s estate months ago. I paid them for the rights to use and adapt her recipes. Legally. Properly. The whole thing was settled with signed agreements and everything.”
I blink. “You had permission?”
“I told Coraline this. I showed her the paperwork, the signed agreements, everything.” Giselle’s hands clench. “And you know what she did? She slapped me. Right across the face. Said I was lying, that I had forged the documents, said she’d ruin me anyway just because she could.”
“But she couldn’t actually ruin you if you had legal documentation.”
“Exactly. The woman had nothing on me. She was just angry that her big exposé fell apart.” Giselle picks up her plate again, her composure returning.
“I didn’t need to kill her. I just needed to wait for her to embarrass herself when the truth came out, and she looked like a fool for accusing me without doing proper research.
And a part of me wishes it did.” She smooths her dress with one hand.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have cocktails to sample.
I plan on enjoying tonight’s festivities. ”
Giselle stalks off toward the competition area, leaving me standing by the dessert table with the sinking realization that I just accused the wrong person of murder.
The real killer is still out there, perhaps even walking around this luau with a mai tai in hand, congratulating themselves on how perfectly everything went.
But killers always make mistakes. They think they’re smarter than everyone else, that they’ve covered all their tracks, that they’re untouchable.
And that’s exactly when they get sloppy.
I’m left wondering who really had the most to lose when Coraline Starling arrived on our little slice of paradise with her camera crew and her talent for uncovering people’s secrets.
Maybe she knew too much about someone’s operation.
Maybe she discovered a deep, dark secret that would destroy everything they had worked to build.
Something that would make murder seem like the only solution to keep their world from collapsing entirely.
I scan the luau crowd, watching tourists dance and laugh while a trio of shirtless fire spinners create arcs of flame against the darkening sky.
My gaze lands on Breezy behind one of the tiki bars, his shaggy sandy blond hair catching the torchlight as he pours drinks with that easy charm that makes people forget to ask important questions.
Something niggles at the back of my mind. Something Mabel said. Or was it something I noticed myself?
I pull out my phone, my fingers moving quickly across the screen. A few searches, a couple of clicks, and then—
I gasp.
My eyes snap back up to Breezy, who’s laughing with a customer, mixing a mai tai with a magical flair, looking exactly like a successful local businessman who’s got everything under control. Except he doesn’t.
And that’s when I see it. Hiding in plain sight beneath his table, and I gasp.
I have a sneaking suspicion I know who the killer is and exactly why they thought they needed to send Coraline Starling to the great Mai Tai Mix-Off in the sky.