Dying for a Daiquiri Read online

  I smiled at her. “Dave told us you had to meet with your boss today. I’m glad you made it back for the reception.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here earlier,” Regan said. “Koffee Land is hosting a reality show in ten days. The owners, Ritz and Pilar Naygrew, had a ton of stuff to go over with me.”

  “That sounds exciting,” I said, as visions of Hollywood stars danced in my head.

  My sister-in-law rubbed her palms over her eyes. “It’s far more annoying than exciting at this point. But Ritz is my boss. When he says jump, I leap as high as he sets the bar.”

  A fruity drink magically appeared in front of Regan. I could never keep these tropical concoctions straight, but this one was about the size of a Honda Civic.

  Regan thanked the waitress. “Mahalo, Walea.”

  “You’re welcome,” said the server. “You missed a terrific show tonight.”

  Regan nodded towards Dave and Keiki. “I think I arrived just in time to see the ‘show’.” She picked up her glass and inhaled the cocktail as if it were fruit juice sans the alcohol.

  Walea gnawed on her lower lip. I leaned forward wondering how she would respond to Regan’s remark.

  “Can I get you anything, Laurel?” Walea evidently decided to keep mum on the subject of my brother and her sister.

  When I declined her offer, she sashayed away, making me wonder if island parents taught their toddlers to wiggle their hips as soon as they learned to crawl.

  Dave finally noticed Regan’s arrival. He broke off his conversation with Keiki, walked across the stage and down the steps, arriving at our table. He sat next to his wife and aimed a kiss at her cheek. He missed as she rebuffed him and turned to face me.

  “How was the ceremony, Laurel?” Regan asked. “Was Liz happy with the location?”

  “That small stone church you recommended was beautiful,” I said. “I can’t imagine a more perfect way for them to begin their life together than getting married in paradise.” My eyes veered to the happy couple who were having their picture taken against the backdrop of the lava rock setting.

  Regan twisted her gold wedding band as her solemn eyes met mine. “Paradise can be rife with pitfalls.” She picked up her drink, seemingly intent on chugging the remainder.

  Dave dropped his arm around his wife’s shoulders, but she shrugged him off.

  “Sweetie,” he said, “you know you can’t handle alcohol.” He attempted to remove Regan’s glass. Their hands collided and the fruity concoction crashed to the floor. A red puddle oozed down the bamboo planking. It pooled under the slender, bare feet of Keiki, who was helping Walea clear the tables.

  Keiki shot a look at Regan that I was unable to decipher, but she remained silent as she picked up the shards of glass. The youngest musician rushed to help her, but Dave brushed him aside and began to assist the dancer himself.

  Regan muttered something under her breath, grabbed her straw tote and stood, her slight frame swaying slightly.

  “Are you okay?” I asked as I followed her away from the table.

  “I think I’ve had too little to eat and too much to drink.” Regan’s eyes welled with tears. “It’s been a grueling week, and I’d better go home before I say anything foolish to my husband.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  She shrugged. “You can try knocking some sense into your brother.”

  I pointed at a grove of palm trees to the side of the open-air restaurant. “We’re a hard-headed family. Could take a coconut, or two, to do the trick.”

  Her lips curled up in a weak smile. I was pleased my attempt at levity lightened her mood somewhat. I still found it difficult to accept anything was going on between Dave and the gorgeous dancer, but I wasn’t averse to stepping in and finding out.

  It had been a few decades since this pigtailed tomboy tormented her big brother, but I felt confident I hadn’t lost my touch.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Nothing beats sleeping in and enjoying a leisurely morning in a tropical setting. The bride’s interpretation of leisure, however, differed dramatically from mine. My definition does not include embarking on an early morning snorkel sail after a night of dining, drinking and general carousing. My head felt like a troupe of Tahitian dancers and drummers had moved in overnight. The proportion of rum to fruit juice in those mango daiquiris I’d swilled must be higher than I’d realized.

  I shoved a pillow over my face as the cloying sound of “Tiny Bubbles” blasted from the radio. I rolled over to turn off the alarm when someone silenced it for me.

  “Good morning, dear. Rise and shine.”

  Ugh. It was bad enough sharing a room with my mother. Listening to her perky greeting was even more annoying than Don Ho’s bubbly wake-up call. My stomach roiled as I eased myself against the padded gold brocade headboard. “Why don’t you go ahead without me? I don’t think I’m up for a boat ride this morning.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “Liz will be crushed if you don’t join us. I’ve already ordered breakfast from room service. Nothing like some hearty oatmeal to keep you regular.”

  I closed my eyes trying to decide at what age my mother would no longer be interested in facilitating my digestive system. I opened them and squinted at the woman in question. She was dressed in a pair of sea-foam capris and a floral shirt that accented her short feathery blonde hair. With silver sandals, a sea-green tote and matching visor, she looked ready to star in an AARP advertisement to vacation in Hawaii.

  The odds of winning the lottery were higher than of me getting out of our morning excursion.

  I pushed my rumpled but extremely soft sheets aside and stumbled into the capacious marble bathroom. The oversized Jacuzzi tub beckoned but, with only a half hour to spare, I quickly showered, did my make-up and finished the bowl of heart-healthy oatmeal, made slightly less nutritious with heaping tablespoons of brown sugar and golden raisins added to the contents.

  By seven-thirty, Mother and I were standing in front of the elevator, along with a family of six, the kids ranging in age from eight to toddler. I wished my children could have joined me on this trip, but my daughter, Jenna, a high school junior who dreamt of becoming an astronaut, hadn’t wanted to miss her SAT study classes. Ben, my seven-year-old, couldn’t afford to miss his second-grade classes either. Although my son hadn’t been officially diagnosed with ADHD, he possessed “attention discovery disorder.” Everything outside the classroom seemed far more interesting than what was happening on the pages of his textbooks.

  I pictured Ben giggling with his best friend, Kristy, already almost twice his size. The young girl would top my five foot four and a quarter by fourth grade. Kristy took after her six-foot-three father, Detective Tom Hunter, my on-again off-again boyfriend. I sighed as I pictured Tom’s broad shoulders and thick chestnut hair, which occasionally grew past regulation length when he was too busy hunting down murderers to squeeze in a haircut.

  Unfortunately, in the six weeks that we’d been seeing each other again, our dates were as infrequent as his visits to Super Haircuts. I’d hoped that a week together in a tropical setting would heat up our relationship, but Tom cancelled two days before we were scheduled to leave, ostensibly to hover over his latest crime scene.

  Why couldn’t I find a boyfriend who preferred to hover over me?

  Maybe his official duties weren’t the real problem. Perhaps he wasn’t interested in me. I was beginning to think it was time to move on. The elevator’s ping coincided with the plummeting of my heart at the thought of Tom and me breaking up.

  We hadn’t even had a chance to ping together!

  Mother’s cell rang as we stepped out of the elevator into the enormous open-air lobby of the Regal Kona Resort. It didn’t take a detective to detect the call was from her new husband. Her rose-infused cheeks and giggles reinforced my deduction. Liz and Brian strolled toward us, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists. They wore matching blue-flowered shirts and smiles.

  Li
z’s wake-up call had obviously been more arousing than mine.

  I was surrounded by people talking and thinking about sex. Enough to make a person gag. Speaking of which, Stan approached dressed in fluorescent floral attire, wearing a straw hat large enough to provide shade for a family of four.

  “Nice chapeau,” I remarked.

  He grinned. “Got it on clearance for fifty percent off. Can you believe it?”

  Sure could. But if the wind died down, his hat would make an excellent fan. And if the engine quit, we could use the hat to propel the boat.

  Brian went to claim his rental car from the valet while the rest of us stopped at a grass-roofed kiosk for four Kona coffees to go. My cell rang just as I finished doctoring my coffee. My heart sang, hoping the call was from Tom.

  I dug in my purse and grabbed the phone. Once I identified the caller, I told my heart to dial it back a notch.

  “Hey, Dave,” I said. “Are you on your way to the boat?” I picked up the steaming cup and sipped.

  “No, I can’t go with you guys. I have to meet the police.”

  My cup missed my lips, but not my navy T-shirt. I asked my brother to hold while I blotted a half cup of coffee from my chest.

  “Why are you meeting with the police?” I asked, fearful of his answer.

  “A body was found on the rocks below the restaurant. They need access inside.”

  My stomach clenched at the image of someone lying on the lava rocks far below the building. “How awful. Did they give you any details?”

  “No. I assume the tide carried the person there, but I can’t imagine who would go swimming in that area. The current is far too dangerous.” Dave’s voice cracked as he said, “I only hope it isn’t anyone I know.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Dave’s news bummed everyone out, but realistically we realized there wasn’t anything our group could do to help him. I knew it would be a trying experience whether Dave personally knew the victim or not. I hoped for my brother’s sake that the answer was “not.”

  Thirty minutes later, we arrived at the Kailua pier. Brian easily located the parking lot recommended for seafaring tourists. We grabbed our assorted beach gear and headed for the boat. Foreign-speaking passengers from the enormous cruise ship anchored in the bay wandered around wearing confused expressions. Several companies offered morning boating expeditions, so the pier was awash in aloha-shirted, fanny-pack-wearing tourists.

  The strangely pleasant scent of fish and seaweed reminded me of childhood vacations along the California coast. Eventually we located our boat, the Sea Jinx. The name of our vessel didn’t enthrall me, but I was pleased it appeared to be immaculate and roomy.

  A young woman dressed in a royal-blue polo shirt and form-fitting white shorts, and with a mane of blonde curls secured by a scarf, greeted the passengers. “I’m Amanda, your hostess and marine life specialist,” the petite woman announced in an annoyingly perky voice. “Welcome to the Sea Jinx. Is this your first time sailing with us?”

  Everyone replied in the affirmative as we followed her up the gangway.

  “You’re all going to have a great time. Let me give you the grand tour.” She showed us where the “heads,” aka potties to us landlubbers, were located. Then she bounced up the stairs, assuming we’d bounce along behind her.

  Amanda must have noticed my red-rimmed, hung-over eyes because she pointed me in the direction of the coffee. A variety of juices and pastries were also set on the bar.

  “After a successful snorkel expedition,” she said, beaming a 100 watt smile at us, “we’ll all celebrate with a Mai Tai.”

  I was afraid to ask her definition of “successful.” Did that mean no one on board ended up as shark bait?

  We followed Amanda’s instructions to store our gear under bench seats that ran down the center of the main deck. Mother and I sat next to each other on the blue-padded cushions. I immediately proceeded to lather myself with a 15 SPF sunscreen.

  Liz plopped down on the slick white non-cushioned seat across from us “You’re going to need something stronger than that,” she said. As the owner of a full-service spa in El Dorado Hills, she was dedicated to protecting her peaches-and-cream English complexion.

  Liz pulled a large tube from her red-striped bag and handed it to me.

  “A sunscreen with 120 SPF?” I twisted the cap open. “If I put this on, I’ll return home paler than when I left.”

  “You’ll thank me in forty years.”

  I squeezed the tube. The sunscreen had the viscosity and stickiness of Elmer’s Glue and an unusual scent. Lavender combined with skunk. The ointment would definitely repel any men from attacking me. I wasn’t confident it would have the same effect on marine life.

  Despite my teasing Liz, I had no desire for my fair skin to turn lobster red. I tried to pull my T-shirt over my head so I could spread the lotion across my neck and shoulders, but it caught on the strap of my bathing suit. For a brief moment, I worried about a wardrobe malfunction. Good thing only my mother and Liz were in the immediate vicinity.

  As I struggled to slide the narrow neck of my tee shirt over my unruly copper curls, my swimsuit strap was prodded back in place.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said.

  “Any time,” responded a voice at least two octaves below my mother’s soprano.

  In under a millisecond, I ripped the cotton tee over my head. I found myself staring into a pair of cobalt-blue eyes that reflected even bluer than the surrounding ocean. Eyes filled with amusement. The crinkles around the man’s eyes indicated laughing came naturally. He was tall, trim and tan, and I had a feeling he was the captain of the Sea Jinx.

  I had one additional clue. A captain’s hat perched on his thick, sun-streaked blond hair.

  He proffered his hand. “I’m Steve Bohannon. You must be Dave’s sister. You look like him, except for the beard. And you’re, um…” His gaze briefly dropped to my chest, which I could feel turning the same shade of red as my cheeks.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “Dave said you’re hot. I mean, you know all the hot spots, that is, the hot spots to snorkel…” I looked around for something to do besides babble like an idiot. I grabbed the pink container of suntan lotion and squeezed hard.

  White goop shot out of the tube, splattering across the zipper of his shorts. I reached out to wipe off the mess then realized my hand was barely an inch from Steve’s crotch. What would Emily Post do?

  Emily wasn’t available, but Stan miraculously appeared with a beach towel in hand. I grabbed the towel and handed it to Steve. He wiped off his shorts and grinned. “There’s never a lack of adventure on a boat.”

  Liz introduced herself and asked if he was ready to leave.

  “It looks like all the passengers are on board. We’ll be underway in a few minutes.”

  “We know Dave won’t make it, but I haven’t seen Regan yet,” I said.

  “Sorry, that’s what I came out here to tell you when you got me a little distracted.” Steve’s smile proved the combination of white teeth against a dark tan could be equally distracting. “Regan texted she’s been delayed so we’ll have to go ahead without her.”

  “Did she mention why?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Just said she’d see you later. Trust me. I’ll make sure you have a great time. Don’t forget I’m the guy who knows all the ‘hot’ spots.”

  * * *

  An hour later, I discovered there’s hot, and there’s steaming hot.

  The sun’s morning rays were hot, but with Captain Steve by my side, the sizzle level climbed so high I worried one of us might spontaneously combust.

  I never realized how sexy it could be to have a handsome man help me don swim fins. The Hawaiian version of Cinderella. It almost made me forget Detective What’s His Name.

  Shame on me. Here I had a boyfriend back home, one who was always there for me.

  Sort of. The widowed detective not only had a young daughter to rear, but he’d recently been promo
ted to head of the homicide division for the El Dorado County Sheriff’s Department. Between solving crimes and an occasional Snack Dad moment, there seemed to be little time left for me. I could count our dates in the past two months on one hand and still have a couple of digits left over.

  The man kneeling at my feet interrupted my musings. “How does that feel?”

  Was Steve referring to the gigantic rubber flippers scraping against my oversized bunions, or the touch of his large hand resting gently on my right calf?

  “Fine. Thanks for the help.” I stood and wobbled in my webbed footwear.

  Steve put his arm around my waist and steadied me. “Hey, Dave’s my best friend. I promised I’d make you and your mom my priority.”

  Steve grabbed my hand and we crossed to the starboard side of the vessel where a ladder hung over the side, dipping into the clear blue water of Kealakekua Bay, a popular dive spot. The white twenty-seven-foot obelisk erected on shore to honor Captain Cook glimmered in the distance. This spot was chosen to honor the sea captain because it was where the natives killed him once they realized he wasn’t really a god.

  Tough crowd!

  I watched Liz step carefully on the ladder, her fins jutting out at an angle. Brian patiently treaded water near the bottom rung. His bride clambered down the ladder with such dexterity one would think she’d been a duck in a former life. They kissed briefly, donned their gear and swam away from the boat, hand in hand. How nice to have someone waiting to explore the underwater magic together.

  I must have looked worried because Steve hurried to reassure me. “You’ll be fine out there. Timmy and Rafe will keep an eye out for everyone in your group.”

  Timmy, a young man with longish dark hair, gave me a curt nod then moved to the back of the boat.