Burned

1

“T his is going to be the snowstorm of the century,” the action reporter, Brad Dayton, cried with a certain hysterical glee. Clad in bright yellow foul weather gear, he was standing on the side of the New Jersey Turnpike. Cars were inching by, sliding and spinning, as a gusty wind blew wet snow in every direction. The flakes seemed to target the reporter’s face and the lens of the television camera. The sky was thick with gray clouds, and the whole Northeast was hunkering down for an unexpected blizzard.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he cried as he blinked to avoid the pelting precipitation. “Stay home. And forget the airports. They’re closed, and it looks like they won’t reopen for several days.”

Regan Reilly stared at the television in her cozy Los Angeles office in an ancient building on Hollywood Boulevard. “I can’t believe it,” she said aloud. “I should have flown out yesterday.”

“Be careful out there, Brad,” urged the cable news anchor in the climate-controlled studio. “Try to stay dry.”

“I will,” Brad shouted over the shrill wind. He started to say something else, but the sound was knocked out. The news director cut quickly to a weatherman standing in front of a map with lots of ominous arrows pointing in all directions.

“What have you got for us, Larry?” the smiling blond anchor-woman asked.

“Snow coming from all directions,” Larry explained urgently as his hands made circles around the map. “Snow, snow, and more snow. I hope you all have lots of canned goods at home because this storm is going to stay with us for the next several days, and it is packing a wallop!”

Regan looked out the window. It was a typically sunny day in Los Angeles. Her suitcase was packed for New York. Recently engaged, Regan was a thirty-one-year-old private investigator based in Los Angeles. Her honey, Jack “no relation” Reilly, was the head of the major case squad in New York City. They were to wed in May, and she had been planning to fly out for the weekend to see Jack and her parents, Luke and Nora, who lived in Summit, New Jersey.

Regan and her mother were supposed to meet with a wedding coordinator on Saturday to review all the plans for the big day-menu, flowers, limos, photographer, the list went on and on. On Saturday night she and her parents and Jack had arranged to hear a band they were considering for the reception. Regan had been looking forward to a fun night out. The snowstorm would have precluded those plans, but if Regan had gotten to New York yesterday, she could have had a cozy weekend with Jack. It was the second week in January, and she hadn’t seen him for ten days. And what’s more romantic than being together during a snowstorm?

She felt lonely and frustrated, and the sight of the shining sun she found irritating. I don’t want to be here, she thought. I want to be in New York.

The phone rang.

“Regan Reilly,” she answered without much enthusiasm.

“Aloha, Regan. It’s your maid of honor calling from Hawaii.”

Kit Callan was Regan’s best friend. They’d met in college on a junior year abroad program in England. Kit lived in Hartford and sold insurance. Her other job was the hunt for Mr. Right. So far she was having better luck peddling her policies.

“Aloha, Kit.” Regan smiled and immediately felt better just hearing her best friend’s voice. She knew that Kit had gone to Hawaii for an insurance convention. “How’s your trip going?”

“I’m stuck here.”

“Not many people would complain that they were stuck in Hawaii.”

“The convention ended Tuesday. I took an extra day to relax, and now I can’t get home. My travel agent says you can’t get anywhere near the East Coast.”

“Tell me about it. I was supposed to go to New York today to see Jack. And my mother and I were going to meet with the wedding planner.”

“Promise me you’ll go easy on me with the bridesmaids’ dresses.”

“I was actually thinking of plaid pantsuits,” Regan quipped.

“I’ve got an idea. Come out here, and we’ll pick up some grass skirts.”

Regan laughed. “Now there’s an idea. People always want their weddings to be different.”

“So you’re coming then?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Get out here, Regan! How many chances will we have to be together like this again? Once you get hitched, that’ll be it. You’ll never want to leave him, and I don’t blame you.”

“I’m keeping my office in Los Angeles,” Regan protested. “At least for a while.”

“That’s different. You know what I mean. This is a perfect opportunity for us to have a fun girls’ weekend before your wedding. What else are you going to do for the next few days? Watch the weather reports? Come out here to Waikiki. I’ll have a tropical drink waiting for you. I have a room on the second floor with two big beds and a balcony overlooking the ocean. You can almost dip your toes into the sand from here. As a matter of fact, I’m sitting on the balcony right now waiting for room service to deliver my breakfast.”

“Be careful. With the sound of the waves crashing, you might not hear them knock,” Regan muttered as she looked around the office that had been her home away from home for several years. The antique desk she’d found at a flea market, the black-and-white-tiled floor, the coffeepot in its place of honor atop a filing cabinet were all so familiar. But now they didn’t feel welcoming. She had cleared the decks for a weekend away and felt the need to get out and go somewhere. It was true that she hadn’t seen Kit much in the year since she’d met Jack.

“Where are you staying?” Regan asked.

“The Waikiki Waters Playground and Resort.”

“That’s a mouthful.”

“You should see this place. It was just renovated, so everything is brand-new and beautiful. There are restaurants, shops, two spas, five pools, and several towers of rooms. We’re in the best tower right on the water. And there’s a gala charity ball this Saturday night. They’re auctioning off a shell lei that belonged to a princess from the royal family. They’re calling it the ‘Be a Princess’ Ball. So come on out. We’ll both be princesses.” Kit paused. “What’s going on down there?” she said softly, more to herself than Regan.

“What are you talking about?” Regan asked.

Kit didn’t seem to hear her. “I don’t believe it,” she said with alarm.

Regan’s grip tightened on the phone. “Kit, what’s going on?”

“People are suddenly running down to the water’s edge. I think a body just washed ashore!”

“Are you kidding?”

“A woman just tore out of the water screaming her head off. It looks like she came across the body when she was out for a swim.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Regan, you’re not going to let me stay by myself here this weekend, are you?” Kit inquired meekly. “This place could be dangerous.”

“I’ll call the airlines.”

2

N ora Regan Reilly looked up at the snow falling on the skylight of her third-floor tower office at home in New Jersey. Normally a little snow would contribute to the cozy setting where she wrote her mystery novels. But the blizzard was causing havoc in her life and, it seemed, everyone else’s in the tri-state area.

“Regan, I’m so sorry you won’t be in New York this weekend.”

“Me, too, Mom.” Regan was in the bedroom of her Hollywood Hills apartment packing a suitcase with summer clothes.

“ Hawaii doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It will be good to spend time with Kit. Things have been so busy, I know I’d never take a weekend like this otherwise.”

“Your father has a big funeral scheduled for tomorrow. I don’t know how it can possibly happen. They say the roads will be treacherous. Most of the relatives are from out of town. They’re staying at a hotel nearby.”

“Who died?” Regan’s question was not an uncommon one at the Reillys’ dinner table. Her father, Luke, was a funeral director. And with her mother, Nora, being a suspense writer, there was a lot of talk about crime and death around the house. The Waltons they were not. Regan was an only child, and as a result she had been privy to more adult conversations than most kids growing up. It seemed to be common with only children, Regan had long ago decided. Jack was one of six kids. She loved that. Soon they’d have the best of both worlds.

“Ernest Nelson. He just turned a hundred and had been a championship skier. He lived in an assisted-living facility in town, and his family is scattered all over. His wife just died last year.”

“He was one hundred years old?”

“He celebrated his hundredth birthday in a very grand style two weeks ago. The family threw him a big party. Now they’re all back to bury him. And there are a lot of them. He has eight children who all have numerous grandchildren. I think they’re going to be here for a while.”

“He sounds like the type who wanted to reach that milestone before he gave up. Somehow the weather seems fitting for his funeral.”

“That’s what they’re all saying, Regan.” Nora paused. “Have you told Jack your plans?”

“Of course. We’re both disappointed that I’m not in New York for the storm, but I’ll be there next weekend.”

“How long will you stay in Hawaii?” Nora asked as she sipped steaming tea from the Imus in the Morning mug she was given the last time she was on his radio show.

“Just until Monday morning.”

“Do you and Kit have any big plans out there?”

Regan dropped a red one-piece bathing suit into her suitcase. With her pale skin she wasn’t a sun worshipper, but she did enjoy taking a dip and then sitting under an umbrella. She had inherited her black Irish looks from her father. Raven-haired, blue-eyed, and fair-skinned, she was five feet seven inches tall. Luke was six-foot-five and his hair was “long since silver,” as he liked to call it. Her mother was a petite blond and had a more patrician look. “We’ll sit on the beach, maybe do some sightseeing. I think Kit has her eye on a guy who lives in Waikiki.”

“She does?”

“Well, she mentioned something about a few people she met who have retired young out there or gone to start second careers. One of them sounds interesting.”

“Kit’s probably happy she can’t get home then.”

“I think you’re right, Mom. She only admitted it to me when I called her back with my flight information. But as she said, a long-distance relationship takes on new meaning when you’re talking about Connecticut to Hawaii.”

Nora laughed. “I’m sure you two will have fun. Be careful in the water. Those currents out there can get pretty strong.”

She has that Irish intuition, Regan marveled. Or was it her motherly radar? Regan was not going to mention that a body had washed ashore in front of Kit’s hotel room, but her mother probably had a sense of something. When Regan had called Kit back, Kit was down on the beach. The body had been identified as Dorinda Dawes, a woman in her forties who was an employee of the Waikiki Waters. She had started there three months ago and was the hotel’s roving photographer and reporter, in charge of their newsletter. Kit had met her at one of the bars at the hotel where Dorinda was taking pictures of the guests.

When she washed ashore, Dorinda wasn’t wearing a bathing suit. She was wearing a tropical print dress and had a shell lei around her neck. Which meant she wasn’t out for a casual swim.

No, Regan had decided. No sense mentioning it to her mother. Let Nora think she was going to have a relaxing weekend at a peaceful Hawaiian resort. Who knows? Maybe things would turn out that way after all.

But knowing her pal Kit, she somehow doubted it. Kit could find trouble at a church picnic. And once again it looked as if she had. Sometimes Regan thought that’s why they were such good friends. In their own ways, they both had an affinity for the hazardous side of life.

“We’ll be careful,” Regan assured her mother.

“Stick together. Especially when you’re swimming.”

“We will.” Regan hung up, zipped up her suitcase, and glanced at the picture of her and Jack on the dresser. It had been taken moments after they got engaged in a hot air balloon. Regan couldn’t believe how lucky she was to have found her soul mate. They’d met when her father had been kidnapped and Jack was on the case. Now Luke always joked that he never knew he had such good matchmaking skills-after all, Regan and Jack got to know each other while he was tied up on a boat with his chauffeur. But they were terrific together and had so much in common, especially their senses of humor. What they both did for a living also made them kindred spirits, and they often discussed their cases with each other. She had dubbed him “Mr. Feedback.” At the end of every conversation he always told her he loved her and to be careful!

“I will, Jack,” she said now to the picture. “I want to live to wear my wedding dress.” But somehow as Regan spoke the words aloud, they seemed to get caught in her throat. Brushing off the odd feeling of uneasiness that came over her, Regan pulled the suitcase off the bed and headed out the door. Here I go on my bachelorette weekend, she thought. How bad can it be?

3

A s Regan’s plane made its descent into Honolulu, she peered out the window and smiled at the sight of the red neon letters on top of the airport tower-A-L-O-H-A.

“Aloha,” she murmured.

When she got off the plane, a rush of warm fragrant air hit her. She immediately pulled out her cell phone and called Jack. It was late in the evening in New York.

“Aloha, baby,” Jack answered.

Regan smiled again. “Aloha. I just arrived. The sky is bright blue. I can spot a row of palm trees swaying in the breeze, a pagoda in a garden below, and I really wish you were with me.”

“Me, too.”

“What’s happening in New York?”

“The snow is coming down fast and furious. I had a couple of drinks with the guys after work. People are out on the streets having a great time, throwing snowballs and pulling kids on sleds. Someone already built a snowman that is standing guard outside my building. But he doesn’t have much to do. Crime goes down during snowstorms.”

Regan felt a pang in her heart. “I can’t believe I’m missing all that,” she said wistfully.

“I can’t believe you are, either.”

Regan pictured Jack’s spacious homey apartment that was so Jack with its handsome leather couches and beautiful Persian rugs. He had told Regan he wanted to make his place more than just a bachelor pad because he never knew when he’d meet the right girl. “I was afraid it might never happen,” he admitted. “But with you this is finally the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Maybe there will be another snowstorm next weekend,” Regan joked. “I’ll just be sure to arrive ahead of it.”

“Regan, have a good time with Kit. There will be other snowstorms, I promise. And believe me, a lot of people in this city would give anything to trade places with you right now. Not everyone thinks this is fun.”

By now Regan was at the baggage claim. People were in shorts and sleeveless shirts. It was late afternoon, and there was a laid-back, peaceful feeling in the air.

“I’ll be fine,” Regan said. “Kit met some people out here who we’ll hook up with. There’s even a guy she likes.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh is right. But this one sounds promising. He worked on Wall Street and retired to Hawaii at age thirty-five.”

“Maybe I should run a check on him,” Jack suggested. He laughed, but there was a note of seriousness in his voice. “He sounds too good to be true.” Jack was fond of Kit and felt protective of her. A couple of the guys Kit had gotten involved with since Jack had been on the scene had been real lulus. He wanted to make sure whoever she dated was on the level.

“It won’t be long before I learn his name and hear every detail of his life that Kit knows already. I’ll fill you in. If you find something out about him that’s not so great, she’ll want to be told. She learned her lesson from that last loser she went out with.”

“She sure did,” Jack agreed.

They were referring to a guy Kit had several dates with who failed to mention that he was getting married and moving to Hong Kong.

“Hey, Regan,” Jack continued. “I have a buddy out there in the Honolulu police force. I’ll give him a call and let him know you’re there. Maybe he’ll have some suggestions about what to do or where to go.”

“That’s great. What’s his name?” Regan asked as she pulled her suitcase off the carousel. She was always amazed at how connected Jack was. He knew people everywhere. And everyone respected him.

“Mike Darnell. I got to know him when some of the guys and I used to go there on vacation.”

“I’m about to grab a cab to the hotel,” Regan said as she wheeled her luggage outside.

“Don’t have too good of a time.”

“How could I? You’re not here.”

“I love you, Regan.”

“I love you, too, Jack.”

“Be careful, Regan.”

“I will.”

The cabdriver tossed Regan’s suitcase into the trunk. Regan got in the back, and they sped off for the Waikiki Waters. So much for being careful, Regan thought as the taxi driver dodged in and out of traffic on the congested highway. Regan found it odd that the road was called Interstate H1. Where were the other states?

Six thousand miles away Jack hung up and looked around his apartment. “This place is so lonesome without her,” he said aloud. But he cheered himself with the thought that she’d be there with him in one week. So what was that nagging feeling that came over him? He tried to shrug it off. He was a worrier when it came to Regan. And now he had a particularly good reason. Whenever she was with Kit, something odd always happened.

Jack stood and walked over to the window. The snow was piling up quickly. He walked across the room to his desk, got out his address book, and dialed his friend in the Honolulu Police Department. But the conversation only made him feel worse. Regan hadn’t told him anything about the drowning of a hotel employee at the Waikiki Waters. There was no way Kit wouldn’t have mentioned it to her. Regan knows me too well, he thought.

“Mike, would you do me a favor and give Regan a call?”

“Of course, Jack. I’ve got to run into a meeting. I’ll talk to you later.”

Standing by his window, Jack watched the snow coming down on the darkened street. I’ll feel so much better when she’s Mrs. Reilly, he thought. He turned, went into his room, and lay on the bed.

Back in Waikiki, people couldn’t stop talking about the death of Dorinda Dawes.

4

K it stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her medium-sized frame. It was five-thirty, and she’d just come up from a late afternoon swim in one of the many pools at the Waikiki Waters Playground and Resort. After the morning’s excitement a lot of guests at the hotel, including Kit, had the jitters about taking a dip in the ocean. The pool had been overflowing with swimmers.

Regan should be here soon, Kit thought happily. It was a miracle that she’d been able to get a reservation. She’d gotten one of the last seats on an afternoon flight from Los Angeles. Hundreds of Californians had decided to head for Hawaii when they couldn’t travel east.

There had been a lot of buzz at the Waikiki Waters about Dorinda Dawes. It seemed she had caused quite a stir in the three months that she’d worked at the hotel. The Christmas newsletter was more gossipy than most people liked, and she had run around taking pictures of tourists who didn’t necessarily want to be in the paper. “You loved her or hated her,” Kit heard more than once in the last few hours.

Kit bent over and towel-dried her shoulder-length blond hair. Straightening up, she ran a comb through it and then flicked on the little television set next to the sink. I’d love to have a TV in my bathroom at home, she thought as she applied a dab of styling cream to her golden locks.

The local news came on, and a female reporter was standing on the beach outside Kit’s hotel room.

“The body of forty-eight-year-old Dorinda Dawes, a recently hired employee here at the Waikiki Waters, washed ashore this morning. The police believe it was an accidental drowning. She was seen leaving a party here at the hotel last night at about eleven o’clock. Dawes was alone, and employees say she liked to take the beach path back to her apartment building, which was almost a mile away, but she often stopped to spend some quiet time out on the jetty. Police suspect that she slipped and fell into the water. The currents here can be very strong, and there was a strong undertow last night.

“What is puzzling detectives is that she was wearing a lei around her neck made of old shells that are more valuable than pearls. Sources say it is a historic lei that was stolen from the Seashell Museum more than thirty years ago and is a match to the lei that belonged to Princess Kaiulani, a member of the Hawaiian royal family who died tragically in 1899 when she was only twenty-three. She was caught in a rainstorm while horseback riding on the Big Island and contracted a cold which lingered until her death. Princess Kaiulani’s lei will be auctioned off at the ‘Be a Princess’ Ball here at the hotel on Saturday night. The lei around Dorinda’s neck belonged to Princess Kaiulani’s aunt, Queen Liliuokalani, who was queen for only two years when she was forced to abdicate and the monarchy was dissolved. No one at the hotel recalls ever seeing Dorinda wear this royal lei, and everyone we’ve spoken with says she was not wearing it at the hotel last night. Descendants of the royal family donated both leis to the Seashell Museum when it opened. Both leis were stolen in the robbery, but the princess’s lei was quickly recovered. So the question is, how did Dorinda Dawes, who has lived in Hawaii only since October, get hold of the queen’s lei that has been missing all these years?”

Regan will be all over this, Kit thought.

The phone on the wall rang. That’s another thing I’d like to have at home, Kit thought. A phone in the bathroom. She sighed and answered.

“Kit?”

“Yes.” Kit’s heart quickened at the sound of the masculine voice. Was it who she thought it was?

“It’s Steve.”

Kit’s eyes brightened. How could they not? Steve Yardley was about as eligible as a guy could get. A handsome thirty-five-year-old retiree from Wall Street who moved to Hawaii when he got sick of the urban rat race. He wasn’t looking for a second career like so many others who made the move. He thought he might eventually do some consulting, but he had plenty of money and was enjoying this chilling-out period in his life. He’d only been in Hawaii six months. Long enough, though, to buy a house in an exclusive development in the hills east of Waikiki with a stunning view of the ocean. Kit smiled as she chirped, “Hi, Steve. What’s going on?”

“I’m sitting here enjoying my view of Diamond Head from my lanai, and I thought you would make it even better.”

I could faint, Kit thought as she looked at herself in the mirror. She was glad to see that the little bit of color she’d allowed herself to acquire looked good. She also silently thanked God for the snowstorm that was crippling the eastern United States. “You do, do you?” she said and immediately wished she’d thought of a wittier response.

“Yes, I do. I’m so glad you had to stay this weekend. Why were you headed back so soon anyway?”

“It’s my grandmother’s eighty-fifth birthday. We were going to have a big party on Saturday,” Kit answered, thinking that he had already asked her this question last night when they’d met at one of the hotel bars. A lot of people who couldn’t fly out had crowded in, and there was a real party atmosphere, with drinks flowing freely.

“My grandmother is eighty-five, too,” Steve said incredulously. “It sounds as if we have a lot in common.”

Is this guy for real? Kit wondered.

“And she’s dying for me to settle down,” he added with a laugh.

“That we definitely have in common,” Kit added with a wry note in her voice. “And now my best friend is getting married, which is really getting Granny worked up. As a matter of fact, Regan will be arriving soon.”

“Really?”

“No, Reilly.”

“What?”

Kit laughed. “Her name is Regan Reilly. She’s a private investigator in Los Angeles. She’s certainly going to be interested in what’s going on here at the Waikiki Waters. Did you hear that the woman who was taking pictures in the bar last night drowned in front of the hotel and was wearing a stolen lei? Regan will be all over that. She can’t help herself when it comes to investigations.”

“I just saw it on the news.” Steve coughed. “Excuse me.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes. Anyway, would you and your friend Regan Reilly like to come over for a sunset drink? I’ll come and fetch the fetching lasses, and later I’ll take you both to dinner.”

Kit paused. For the briefest of moments. She and Regan were planning to catch up tonight, but they’d have plenty of time for that. Regan would understand. Heck, she was already engaged. To turn down a chance to get to know Steve, who was handsome, eligible, and rich, was not making the best use of her time. She thought of her granny’s face and practically blurted, “Why don’t you come get us in an hour?”

“I’ll be there,” he answered and hung up the phone.

5

W ill Brown, the manager of the Waikiki Waters, was in a sweat. His job was to keep the resort running smoothly, keep the guests happy, and now, since the renovation, add new and exciting features to life at the upscale vacation spot. It had been his idea to hire someone like Dorinda Dawes to liven things up. Well, she certainly managed to do that, he thought as he sat in his office just steps away from the sprawling front desk. He could have had a big office in a suite overlooking the water, but that was not for him. Will liked to keep his finger on the pulse of the whole operation, which for him was where guests checked in and out. Most people were happy, but he didn’t need to put his ear to the wall to hear the complaints-some valid, some bogus.

“I found mold growing under the bed. It looked like my kid’s science experiment,” one woman had charged. “I think I should get a discount.”

What was she doing under the bed? Will wondered.

“I ordered a soft-boiled egg two days in a row. Both times my egg came out hard-boiled,” another had cried. “I go on vacation to enjoy myself. I hate the smell of hard-boiled eggs! I just can’t win.”

Will was thirty-five and had been raised in a small town in the Midwest. When he was in kindergarten, his parents took a trip to Hawaii. For all the talk and planning, it seemed as if they were going to Oz. They brought him back a Hawaiian print bathing suit that he treasured and brought in to show-and-tell at school. He wore it for a couple of seasons until the seams burst at a pool party. Will’s dream had been to visit Hawaii, and after torturing his parents for years, they finally took him and his sister to paradise when he graduated from grade school. With the warm ocean breezes, the fragrant flowers, the swaying palm trees, and the beautiful sandy beaches, he was hooked. He returned after college graduation, took a job as a bellboy at the Waikiki Waters, and worked his way up to manager of the hotel.

He never, ever wanted to leave.

But now his job could be in jeopardy. He had pushed for the renovation, which was expensive and could take years to recoup. He had brought in Dorinda Dawes, and she turned out to be a troublemaker. And then she drowned at the hotel. Not very good for PR. He had to make things better. But how?

One thing that had to go well was the “Be a Princess” Ball on Saturday night. The gala event would bring a lot of attention to the hotel, and it had to be the right kind. It was the hotel’s first big black-tie affair since the renovation. Five hundred people were expected, and they’d gone all out with the food, flowers, and decorations. Convincing the Seashell Museum to auction the royal lei was a real coup. If the event bombed, the buck stopped on Will’s desk.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. A decent-looking guy, he had reddish hair that had been thinning of late, and pale blue eyes. He always had a ready smile, but sometimes it appeared a little too forced. That was probably a result of spending so many years in the service industry. You had to smile no matter how much people complained.

The coffee cup on his desk was half full. He took a sip and swallowed hard. It was cold. He’d been drinking it all day. With all the guests calling and the news reporters and the police, he hadn’t eaten a thing. Everyone was asking about the stolen royal lei around Dorinda’s neck that had once belonged to the last queen of Hawaii. Nervously he kept drinking the now bitter brew-which only made things worse.

Will was relieved that the police ruled the drowning an accident, but he didn’t believe it. Dorinda Dawes had gotten under too many people’s skin. But what could he do? Was it better to leave well enough alone and hope the whole incident blew over quickly?

He couldn’t do that. Something was going on at the hotel. There had been too many problems lately. Misplaced luggage. Purses gone missing. Toilets overflowing, not due to the call of nature. Guests getting sick after eating but not enough of them to cause too much of a stir. And now this: the death of Dorinda. Will felt a knot in his stomach.

He wanted to get to the bottom of things, but he didn’t quite know how. The hotel hired consultants to call in and make reservations and then rate the clerks on their efficiency and friendliness. The consulting company also sent people in to act as guests and rate the overall service. The resort had a security staff, but Will felt he needed to find a professional investigator who could snoop around without everyone knowing and find out the dirt. Find out the dirt on everyone except him. Will grabbed the coffee cup and drained it.

He stood and stretched his arms up in the air. He needed to move. He went over to the sliding glass door that looked out on a little secluded grassy area outside his office. Feeling restless, he turned and walked out of his office, past his secretary’s desk, and out to the reception area where he spotted the pretty blond girl he had helped yesterday. Her name was Kit. She was supposed to check out, but her flight was canceled because of the storm in the East. All of the rooms were booked, but he had managed to move things around so she could keep hers. She was nice and sweet and seemed to be the type of client they liked to have at the Waikiki Waters. A front desk clerk was handing her a room key.

“Will,” Kit called to him.

He put on his best smile and walked over. The open-air lobby was bustling. People were checking in and out, taxi doors were slamming, bellboys were loading up their carts. The air was filled with excitement and possibility.

Kit was standing with an attractive dark-haired woman who had a suitcase at her side.

“Regan,” Kit said. “This is Will, and he’s the manager of the hotel. He was so nice to me yesterday. He let me keep my room when they were all booked up. Wait till you see it. It’s great.”

Will extended his hand. “Will Brown. Pleased to meet you.”

“Regan Reilly. Thanks for taking care of my friend,” she said and smiled.

“We do our best.” Almost by rote he added, “And where are you from, Regan?”

“She’s a private investigator in Los Angeles,” Kit announced proudly.

“Kit!” Regan protested.

“I just know that she’s going to be interested in the story of that lei Dorinda Dawes was wearing when she died.”

Will felt the blood rise in his face. “May I buy you two ladies a drink?” he offered.

“Thanks, but a friend is picking us up in a few minutes. Can we get a rain check on that?” Kit asked.

“Of course,” he answered. “Perhaps tomorrow.”

“We’ll be here.” Kit smiled. “Now we’re just going to drop Regan’s suitcase in the room.”

As they walked off, he could hear Regan Reilly ask, “What’s the story with the lei?”

Will hurried back to his office, his heart racing. A computer whiz, thanks to all the organizing he had to do at the hotel, he quickly looked up Regan Reilly on the Internet. She was a well respected detective who was the daughter of the mystery novelist Nora Regan Reilly. Will had seen guests reading Nora’s books by the pool. Maybe Regan could do some work for him. Thank God he’d been nice to Kit and extended her room. Goes to show. Be nice and it’ll often pay off. One hand washes the other and all that.

Will thought about going home but decided to hang around. What would he do if he went back to his empty house anyway? Watch the TV reports about Dorinda Dawes? No way. I’ll stay here until they get back. Hopefully it won’t be too late. Then I’ll buy them a drink and see if I can get Regan Reilly on the case.

6

“I can’t believe she was wearing an antique royal lei that belonged to the queen and was stolen thirty years ago!” Regan said to Kit as she wheeled her suitcase into the room that had two double beds covered with pale green and white floral quilts. Sand-colored carpeting and dressers and a sliding glass door that opened onto the balcony with the water view gave an immediate feeling that one had stepped into a zone of calm and relaxation. Just like the travel brochures promised.

Instinctively Regan walked over to the door and slid it open. She stepped out, leaned against the rail, and stared at the vast turquoise ocean. A warm tropical breeze fluttered around her, the sun was gently sinking into the West, and the sky had a beautiful pink cast. It all seemed so peaceful. People were meandering along the beach, palm fronds swayed gently below the balcony, and the reporters covering the Dorinda Dawes drowning were gone.

Kit came up behind her. “It’s a perfect time for a piña colada.”

Regan smiled. “I suppose it is.”

“Steve will be here in a few minutes. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I’m a little tired from the flight, so it’s good to keep moving. I want to meet this guy.”

“He thinks we have a lot in common,”

“Like what?”

“We both have grandmothers who are eighty-five.”

“It’s a start.”

“You’ve got to start somewhere,” Kit laughed.

“True enough.” Regan turned and looked back at the beach. “It’s hard to believe that Dorinda Dawes was probably walking this beach last night. When did you meet her?”

“Monday night at the bar. A bunch of us from my company were there after our last seminar. She was taking pictures. She sat down with us for a few minutes, asked a lot of questions, then moved on to the next table. You could tell she was the type who tried to get people to say things they’d regret.”

“Really?”

“Nobody in our group took the bait. She was a lot nicer to the men than she was to the women.”

“One of those, huh?”

Kit smiled. “One of those.”

“Was she taking notes?”

“No. She was just acting like the life of the party. And she asked everyone to speak their names into the camera after she took their picture.”

“Was she wearing a lei?”

“No. But she had a big orchid in her hair.”

“So where did she get the lei she was wearing when she died? And who stole it thirty years ago?”

Kit shook her head and looked at her best friend. “I knew it would get to you, Reilly.”

“You’re right. It does. You know, drowning is the most difficult form of death to diagnose. It could be murder, suicide, or an accident.”

“The police believe it was an accident. She used to walk home on the beach every night. Well, Steve will be here soon,” Kit noted, hinting that Regan should get moving.

“I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes,” Regan promised. She could tell that Kit was excited about this guy and didn’t want to keep him waiting. When you find out your grandmothers are the same age, the sky’s the limit, Regan thought with a smile.

Twenty minutes later they were standing in the reception area when Steve pulled up in his big, expensive Land Cruiser. Kit waved enthusiastically and hurried to open the front door. Regan hopped in the back and breathed in the new-car smell. Steve turned around and extended his hand to Regan.

“Hello there, Regan Reilly.”

“Hello, Steve,” Regan said, having no idea of his last name. He certainly is cute, she thought. He looks like that clean-cut Wall Street I-deserve-to-be-rich kind of guy. He had on a baseball cap, khaki shorts, and a short-sleeved shirt. He was tanned, with brown hair and brown eyes. On the seat next to him Kit was glowing. They should be in an ad for something that makes you happy, Regan thought.

“Welcome to Hawaii,” he said as he turned to face front. With style he pulled out of the driveway and onto the road filled with hotels, shops, and tourists that led through the heart of Waikiki. He turned up the volume of the CD player, a little too loud for Regan’s taste. It precluded much chance for getting-to-know-you conversation. People were out in force, many wearing shorts and flip-flops and floral leis around their necks. It was a beautiful night. Soon they passed a large park where locals were barbecuing and playing guitars and ukeleles. The ocean glistened just beyond the picnic tables. They passed more hotels and then Diamond Head -the famous volcanic crater where Santana once gave a concert.

Steve’s cell phone rang-a loud, jarring noise obviously designed to be heard over the stereo. He looked at the caller ID. “I’ll let it go to Voice Mail,” he said.

Interesting, Regan thought.

When they got to Steve’s house, which was in an exclusive neighborhood up in the hills not too far from Diamond Head, several people were already there. “A few of my friends dropped by,” he told them when they walked into the house where loud music was also playing. “I thought we’d make it a party.”

7

T he Mixed Bag Tour group came from a little town in the Pacific Northwest where it had rained 89 percent of the time over the last one hundred years. Hudville, nicknamed by the residents Mudville, could get a little depressing. So a club was formed twenty years ago called Praise the Rain. Twice a month members got together and sang and danced and bobbed for apples in buckets of rainwater. They played songs about rain and raindrops and rainbows, and did rain dances just for fun. It was a pleasant release from the leaky basements, waterlogged lawns, and soggy shoes that they dealt with on a daily basis.

“Into every life a little rain must fall,” was their motto. “Or maybe a lot.”

“But we have the best complexions in the world,” the women cried.

In other words, they did their best to cope. But when an elderly member, Sal Hawkins, got up at a meeting three years ago and announced that he knew his days were numbered and that he was leaving a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow to the group, there was reason for cheer. Sal planned to leave the group money to go on trips to Hawaii. “Those who go to Hawaii must bring back sunshine in their hearts for the rest of you,” he said. “I want my money to make the people of Hudville smile after I die.”

Five people would be chosen by lottery every three months, and they would be led by Gert and Ev Thompson, sixty-something identical twins who owned the general store in town where they sold lots of umbrellas. Lucky for Gert and Ev they lived next door to Sal and always gave him rides to the Praise the Rain meetings. They also baked him casseroles and cakes just to be nice. He appointed the twins as leaders of the tour group, and as soon as Sal kicked the rain bucket, they arranged for the first trip to Hawaii. He was barely in his grave when their bags were packed and they were on their way. On that first trip Gert and Ev dubbed the group the Lucky Seven.

They’d had eight trips now. Membership in the Praise the Rain Club had increased tenfold since the lottery for the trips started. But everyone was glad because it made the meetings more interesting, and it brought the town together. On the lottery nights every member was in attendance. With all the excitement over whose name got picked, you’d think they were giving away tickets to heaven.

Gert and Ev loved being in charge of the Lucky Seven trips. They were now the most relaxed people in Hudville. But some of the townsfolk quietly griped, “Who wouldn’t be relaxed if you went on a free vacation to paradise every three months?”

The Waikiki Waters Playground and Resort was their choice of hotel. Every three months the twins booked four rooms and stayed for a week. Sometimes the group did things together; sometimes members broke off and went on their own. Every morning those who had risen early took a walk on the beach. They had been taking that group walk when Dorinda Dawes’s body had washed up. It had been upsetting. Gert and Ev quickly herded everyone off to the breakfast buffet so they’d feel better. “Don’t forget,” Gert advised, “we must keep a positive attitude about everything. We must bring sunshine back to Hudville.”

Now the Lucky Seven were sitting around one of the pools under the hau trees as they did most nights. Cocktails in hand, they talked about their day as the sun slowly sank over the horizon and the sky filled with streaks of red and blue and gold. There was one couple and three singles who ranged in age from their twenties to their sixties. To have called the group eclectic would have been an under-statement.

Gert, clad in her favorite flowered muumuu, held up her mai tai punch, which naturally had a floating umbrella bobbing happily among the ice cubes. “First we must have our nightly toast to our deceased benefactor, Mr. Sal Hawkins.”

“Here’s to Sal,” they all agreed, and clinked glasses.

Ned, the hotel’s tour guide/physical trainer, had joined them for cocktails. He had worked at the hotel for three months and spent his days swimming, surfing, jogging, and doing push-ups in the gym with any hotel guests who cared to join him. His boss, Will Brown, had hired him to be a roving Jack La Lanne who lived at the hotel, moving in and out of whatever room was available. Will had told him to pay special attention to the Praise the Rain group. They were steady customers, and the hotel liked to keep them happy. So happy that they saved the group the cost of a room by having Ned bunk in with the only single man on the trip.

“How can I help but pay attention to them?” Ned had joked to Will. “This guy is sleeping three feet from me!”

In his forties, Ned was physically fit and attractive, with a bald head and dark brown eyes. He always had a five o’clock shadow by lunchtime. His thick dark hair had had a tendency to frizz. When he had separated from his wife the previous year, he’d decided to shave it off and start over with a new look. He hadn’t yet found a woman to his liking but was always on the prowl. I don’t have anyone to calm me down, he often thought. I need that. But she has to be athletic. He sipped his scotch, then turned to Gert. “Why don’t we go up to the surfing beach tomorrow? I’ll get one of the hotel vans. We can rent surfboards.”

The beaches up north on the island of Oahu were some of the best surfing beaches in the world. The waves were twenty-five feet high in the winter months, and the scenery was gorgeous. The mountains in the background were an inspiring sight for the surfers hanging ten as they steered their boards toward the beach.

Ev snorted, “Are you out of your mind?” She and Gert were both hefty-sized women who only shed their muumuus for a quick dunk in the pool. They loved their dunks and found them most refreshing. Very occasionally in the evenings they went to the water’s edge and flung off their muumuus for a dip in the ocean. They were modest and didn’t like walking around on the beach in their bathing suits in the light of day.

Ev had opted for blond hair at this stage of life, and Gert decided on red. Otherwise their round, pleasant faces framed by oversized glasses looked strikingly similar.

“We can bring a picnic lunch. I’m sure some of the others would like to try surfing, wouldn’t they?” Ned looked around the group hopefully.

Artie, the thirty-nine-year-old masseur who believed his hands were healers and was Ned’s unlikely roommate, replied, “I was thinking that I’d like to swim with the dolphins. I hear there’s a great place on the Big Island where they really communicate with humans.” Artie was fair and blond and usually quiet. He’d moved to Hudville from sunny Arizona because he figured with all the rain there must be a lot of aching bodies in town that could use a massage. He claimed that he could reduce the size of swollen feet by placing his hands over them and drawing out the negative energy. So far most Hudville residents had continued to ease their swollen feet by putting them up on a hassock while watching television. It was a lot cheaper.

“I would absolutely adore the idea of surfing, I would just adore it!” Frances cried. Francie was an exuberant fiftyish woman who never divulged her age and believed she was the most talented, gorgeous, insightful woman on the planet. Self-confidence was not something she lacked. She had curly black hair, a pretty enough face, and after a mostly unsuccessful acting career, she’d moved to Hudville to teach drama at the high school. Francie always wore heels, even on the beach, and plenty of jewelry. Every day she went out and bought herself a new lei.

“Francie, I can’t picture you on a surfboard,” Gert said practically as she fished out the sliced orange in her drink and bit into it.

Francie placed her hand on her chest and smiled. “I’ll have you know that when I was sixteen I surfed in my hometown of San Diego. I got on the board and was exhilarated!” She now threw her arms up in the air. Her bracelets jangled and slid till they were halted by her elbows.

“Well, that’s one taker,” Ned said. He looked over at the Wiltons, a couple in their late fifties who were writing a chapter in a book on the joys of an exciting relationship. Only problem was they were dull as dishwater. How could they not have writer’s block? Ned wondered. “Bob and Betsy, what do you say? Want to go up to the surfing beach?”

They stared back at him. The Wiltons were both thin and expressionless. Everything about them was nondescript. If you walked away from them, you couldn’t remember what they looked like. They just kind of blended in.

“I’m sorry, Ned, but we’re working on our chapter, and we need to be alone,” Bob informed him.

Gert and Ev both rolled their eyes. The Wiltons were clearly not the best people to bring sunshine back to Hudville. They were downright drippy.

The last group member, Joy, was twenty-one and had no interest in hanging out as part of the Lucky Seven. Winning the trip had thrilled her, but she really wanted to go off and find people her own age. She’d rather go surfing with the lifeguards she’d met. Sharing a room with Francie was driving her crazy. “I have, like, plans for tomorrow,” she said meekly as she licked the salt on her margarita glass.

Ned looked disgusted. Because he was a most athletic tour guide, he liked people to do things as a team. “What about the good of the group?” he asked.

Gert put her foot down. “Ned, we appreciate your spending time with us, but the Praise the Rain group is free to do what they want. We come together in the mornings and the evenings and share occasional activities. That’s it. We don’t want to get on one another’s nerves.”

“Ned, I’m going with you!” Francie exulted.

“Doesn’t anyone want to go to the Big Island to swim with the dolphins?” Artie asked mournfully.

“Our budget doesn’t cover trips to the Big Island,” Ev noted somewhat sternly. “And Gert and I can’t go on a surfing expedition tomorrow.”

“Why not?” Betsy asked, her expression belying no curiosity whatsoever.

“We are conducting a private survey of the hotels and services in the area. See what we can do better for the next trip. See how we can save money.”

“You’re just doing that to drive Will crazy,” Ned half-joked. “You know you’re not going to get a better deal than what he gives you here.”

Ev shrugged and smiled a Mona Lisa smile at him, then pulled the straw of her drink close to her lips.

“Come on, Artie, why don’t you join us?” Ned asked. “We can swim with the dolphins here in Oahu on Saturday.”

Artie slowly rubbed his hand back and forth. “All right, Ned. But we’d better get life preservers. I hear that surf is treacherous. I can’t bear the sight of another dead body in the water.”

Francie was the only one who laughed.

8

S tanding out on the deck of Steve’s house, Regan was awestruck by the panoramic view. Oahu’s most famous landmark, the magnificent Diamond Head crater, could be seen in the distance. On the plane Regan had read that the volcano had risen from the sea half a million years ago and earned its name when British seamen mistook its calcite crystals for diamonds. Those poor guys, Regan thought. Talk about getting bummed out after months at sea! But diamonds or not, the volcanic crater was a sight to behold. It stood proud and majestic as it watched over Waikiki and an endless stretch of sea. Glints of light from the setting sun were bouncing off the water below.

It looks like a postcard, Regan thought, taking a seat in one of Steve’s comfortably padded outdoor chairs. The music was blaring, but there weren’t as many people as Regan might have guessed when she first walked into the brand-new house with its gleaming blond wood floors and floor-to-ceiling windows. The walls were white, and the furniture was pale wood, simple but expensive. The state-of-the-art kitchen opened onto the living room/dining room area, and the deck ran the length of the whole room.

Five of Steve’s friends were seated on the deck. A painter and his wife, who crafted Hawaiian dolls, two guys who were Steve’s fraternity brothers from college and had just looked him up, and a woman who minded a house on the Big Island for a businessman from Chicago who was almost never there.

To Regan she immediately seemed like a phony.

“I just love to party,” she exclaimed, tossing back her mane of long dirty blond hair. “But it’s so cool having this house in the wilderness to yourself. I love to sit up there and reread the classics.”

“I’m sorry,” Regan said. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Jasmine.”

Of course, Regan thought. She didn’t expect it to be a run-of-the-mill kind of name. Inwardly, Regan smiled, remembering her Catholic grammar school where most students had been named after saints. Regan hadn’t even met people with unusual names until she got to college. “How did you get the job?” Regan asked Jasmine.

“I was a corporate lawyer in New York City and couldn’t stand all the pressure. So I came to Hawaii for a vacation and met my boss. When I complained about my work, he offered me the job. At first I was like, I can’t do that, then I said, Oh, yes, I can. I’ve met so many wonderful and interesting people. It can be a little bit lonelier over on the Big Island. It’s so vast, and there aren’t as many people. But I come over to Oahu all the time. Steve is such a doll. He lets me stay in his guest room whenever I want.”

Regan could see Kit’s face out of the corner of her eye. Her look was less than thrilled.

“I met Jazzy when I first got here,” Steve chimed in quickly. “She’s great for introducing people around. She’s been a real friend.”

One of those, Regan thought. Nothing more annoying for a woman interested in a guy than the girl who is his really good pal.

“Jazzy” threw her head back and laughed appreciatively as she curled her tanned legs under her. “Before you know it, Steve, you’ll know everyone in this town…”

Regan didn’t dare look at Kit.

“…because the thing is it becomes a small town very fast. Almost everyone in Hawaii lives on Oahu. They call it ‘the gathering place,’ and let me tell you, it certainly is. It’s getting more and more exciting all the time. And after you’re here for a while, you hear all the gossip. You just can’t help it.” She laughed again and winked at Steve. “My boss actually wants to buy a house in this area. I tell you, I would love that!”

What about rereading the classics? Regan wondered. “Jasmine,” she began. She just couldn’t bring herself to call her Jazzy. “Did you know the woman who drowned today at the Waikiki Waters Resort, Dorinda Dawes? She was writing a newsletter for the hotel.”

The former corporate lawyer wrinkled her button nose at Regan. Jazzy was petite, tanned, attractive, wore little makeup, and looked as if she could pick up a tennis racket or swim twenty laps at any moment. The type who was born for country club living. “Who didn’t know Dorinda Dawes? She butted into everyone’s business and got on a lot of people’s nerves.”

And may she rest in peace, Regan thought. “Really? How so?”

“The newsletter wasn’t so bad because the hotel had to approve it. But in the last issue that covered all the Christmas parties, she printed the worst possible pictures of the women. And she was planning to produce her own gossip sheet called ‘Oh! Oh! Oahu!’ Everyone was bracing for that. Word got out that Will, the hotel manager, rejected the first newsletter she wrote. And he edited all the others. She was saving those ‘edits’ for her gossip sheet. People were afraid that she’d make them look like jerks. But she managed to get into parties all over town. She wanted to become the queen of gossip in Hawaii. Now she’s the subject of gossip herself. What was she doing with Liliuokalani’s royal lei? Did you hear it matches the one that’s being auctioned off at the ‘Be a Princess’ Ball? The one that belonged to poor Princess Kaiulani?”

“Yes. Kit told me,” Regan answered.

“I’m putting together the gift bags for the ball. No one on the committee can believe that she was here three months and managed to get her hands on that stolen lei. Only Dorinda. I tell you, she worked fast. She was out to make a name for herself one way or another. I think she was getting desperate. She’d been trying for years.”

“How do you know?”

“I met her several times in New York City.”

“You did?”

“Yes. Dorinda was on the scene there for a long time. She had a lot of different jobs and then started a gossipy newsletter on the Internet. But it didn’t fly. Then she got a job as a columnist at an Upper East Side newspaper that folded. Last summer she read an ad placed by a woman in Hawaii who needed an apartment in New York for six months. So they traded places. Dorinda wanted to settle here. The few times I talked to her, I got the feeling she thought it was her last shot at making a name for herself. Not that she came out and said that. But I’ve got to give her credit. She managed to get a job at the Waikiki Waters quickly. It didn’t pay much, but it didn’t take up too much of her time and it gave her access to a lot of people and parties.”

Kit put her glass down. “Dorinda was having a swell time the other night when we saw her at the Towers bar. I think what she loved having access to was the men. And I think she’d had a few drinks.”

“She enjoyed her wine,” Jazzy sniffed, “which could be why she drowned.”

“Can I refresh anyone’s drink?” Steve asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.

“Mine!” Jazzy said. “Add lots of club soda! Hurry! You don’t want to miss the sunset!”

Regan took a sip of her drink. It seemed that wherever one went, it turned into Peyton Place pretty quickly. Gossip mills are everywhere. So are people like Jazzy. There’s no escaping them.

Steve’s two male friends, Paul and Mark, walked back inside to grab a couple more beers. They seemed like nice guys, Regan thought. So did Steve. Whether he was a good prospect for Kit was another story, and she didn’t have much time to find out.

Together they watched the sunset, oohing and aahing as the colors changed in the sky. Everyone was telling Steve how lucky he was to live in such a glorious spot. When the last bit of the blazing red and orange constellation slipped under the horizon, the painter and his dollmaker wife stood. “Thanks, Steve,” he said. “We’re on our way. Tomorrow we’re getting up early and flying to Maui for a crafts fair. Hopefully we’ll have a good day selling our paintings and dolls.” She was a native Hawaiian, and he called himself an aging hippie who came to Hawaii twenty-five years ago to find himself. He wore his blond hair pulled back in a ponytail while her black shiny hair cascaded down her back.

The remaining six piled into Steve’s car and headed into town to Duke’s Restaurant and Barefoot Bar, the restaurant named in honor of Duke Kahanamoku, Hawaii’s most famous citizen and the “father of international surfing.” Duke won worldwide fame as a swimmer, appeared in over twenty-eight Hollywood movies, and in later life became Hawaii’s ambassador of goodwill and aloha. Decades after his death he was still considered the greatest athlete in the history of the Hawaiian Islands. He had never seen snow and was quoted as saying, “I am only happy when I am swimming like a fish.” A large statue of Duke, his arms outstretched as if he were saying, “Aloha,” stands on Waikiki Beach. Every day dozens of leis are placed around his neck by adoring tourists. Steve had pointed out the flower-covered statue as they drove to his house.

The bar was packed, but they managed to get a table in the open air. Jasmine seemed to know more than her fair share of people, which didn’t surprise Regan in the least. A woman at the bar stopped Steve, put her hand on his arm, and started talking to him. To Regan he looked annoyed and seemed impatient with her. He quickly broke free and sat down with the group, and they ordered drinks and burgers. Regan was feeling pretty tired. It was Thursday night, a little after nine, which meant it was eleven in Los Angeles and two in the morning in New York. A television over the bar showed a clip of the snowstorm in the East. I’ll be there with Jack next week, Regan thought longingly. She was glad that Kit looked happy but wasn’t really thrilled at the prospect of spending all weekend with this group. And somehow she figured it was going to turn out that way. There was talk of a dinner party tomorrow night at Steve’s house. I’m sure “dinner party” is a pretty loose term with him, she thought.

Regan glanced over at Paul and Mark who were blatantly checking out the babes at the bar. I guess I shouldn’t feel insulted, she mused. This ring on my finger doesn’t exactly go unnoticed. Jasmine was leaning over and talking to people at the next table, and Steve was whispering something in Kit’s ear.

With all the noise it took a few minutes for Regan to realize that her cell phone was ringing. Regan fumbled in her purse for it. Who would be calling me at this hour? she thought nervously. Everyone at home should be asleep.

“Hello,” she answered when she finally retrieved it.

“Regan?”

“Yes.”

“This is Jack’s friend Mike Darnell. I’m a detective with the Honolulu Police Department. He asked me to give you a call.”

“Oh, hi, Mike,” Regan said with a smile. “That’s nice of you.”

“I’ve been working late, but I was thinking of heading over to a place called Duke’s. I thought you and your friend might like to meet me there.”

“I’m at Duke’s now.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Would I kid you?”

“I don’t know. If you’re engaged to Jack Reilly, you’re capable of anything.”

Regan laughed. “We’re with a group of people. Come join us. We’re to the left of the bar on the outside. There are six of us, but there could be more by the time you get here.”

“I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Regan hung up the phone as Jasmine inquired, “Who was that?”

“A friend of my fiancé’s who’s a detective in the Honolulu Police Department. He’s coming by for a drink.”

“Oh,” she said dismissively.

Am I imagining things, Regan wondered, or does Jazzy look nervous?

9

N ora Regan Reilly woke with a start. The wind was howling outside, and she heard a thump against the side of the house. The clock on the nightstand glowed 2:15. Beside her, Luke was sleeping peacefully. He can sleep through anything, Nora thought with a slight smile.

Thump. Thump.

Nora got up and reached for the bathrobe she kept on the satin-covered bench at the foot of the bed. She and Luke liked to keep their bedroom cold, and on this night that was no challenge. She wrapped the robe around her, walked to the big picture window, and pulled aside the curtain. She was just in time to see a huge branch from one of the trees in their backyard snap off and go crashing to the ground. Chunks of icy snow broke apart as they scattered on the sea of white below. That was Regan’s favorite tree when she was a little girl, Nora remembered.

She could hear Luke’s gentle breathing across the room. No sense waking him, she thought as she peered out at the yard. There was nothing he could do about it now. And tomorrow will be a tough day. There’s no way they can have a funeral in this weather-the roads are impassable. All those relatives of the elderly skier will be stuck at the hotel, and they’ll be looking to Luke for answers about the storm. As if he can change the weather.

Nora crept back into bed as the wind whistled outside. I hope things in Hawaii are calmer than they are here, she thought. She lay huddled under the blankets, her thoughts jumping from one topic to the next. She wished Regan was in New York this weekend. It would have been so much fun to go and hear the wedding band with her and Jack and find out for themselves if they were as good as everyone swore they were. Hopefully we’ll do it next weekend, she mused. She tossed and turned a bit and finally fell back asleep.

Then she started to dream. She dreamed they were at Regan and Jack’s wedding and a band was playing, but they were very loud and out of tune. The music sounded screechy and discordant. Nora kept telling them to stop, but they wouldn’t listen. She was so thankful when she woke and realized it was just a bad dream. The hissing of the wind had incorporated itself into her unconscious as she slept.

What’s wrong with me? she wondered. Well, for one thing, Regan hadn’t called her when she arrived in Hawaii. She’s a grown-up, Nora reminded herself, and doesn’t have to call home all the time. But she usually checked in when she was traveling. Nora felt jittery, and the fact that the branch snapped off Regan’s favorite tree made her a little sad. Once again Nora slipped out of bed, grabbed her robe, and stuffed her feet into a pair of slippers. Quietly she opened the bedroom door and padded down the hallway.

Downstairs she turned on the kettle and picked up the phone. It’s not that late in Hawaii, she thought. I’ll give Regan a quick call on her cell phone.

It was still six of them crowded around the table at Duke’s. When Mike Darnell arrived, Jasmine floated off to talk to a group at the bar. Mike had just ordered a beer when Regan’s cell phone rang again.

“Mom,” she said with alarm when she heard her mother’s voice. “What are you doing up at this hour? Is everything all right?” Regan covered her free ear with her hand so she could hear over the noise of the crowd.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Nora replied. “And I just wanted to make sure you got there okay. With the weather we’re having, it’s hard to imagine that it’s nice anywhere in the world.”

“We’re sitting outside a restaurant looking out at the ocean and the palm trees. It’s a beautiful night,” Regan assured her. “A friend of Jack’s just joined us. He’s a detective in the Honolulu Police Department.”

Somehow that made Nora feel better. Why do I worry so much? she wondered. The kettle started to whistle, a loud shriek that Luke said was designed to wake the dead.

“Are you making tea?” Regan asked.

“Decaf.”

“I can’t believe that kettle can be heard so clearly six thousand miles away.”

“Dad would say you don’t even need a phone for that.”

Regan laughed. “Well, we’re fine. Why don’t you try to get some sleep? You’ll be exhausted tomorrow.”

“It won’t matter. I’m certainly not going anywhere.”

“Don’t let Dad shovel the driveway.”

“I won’t. Greg Driscoll was here today three times with his plow, and he’ll be back in the morning. He probably shouldn’t bother. The snow’s just going to keep piling up.” Nora poured the tea, turned away from the stove, and gasped. “Luke!”

“Dad’s up?”

“When I left the bed, he was dead to the world.”

“You know he can always tell when you’re gone from the bed for more than five minutes.”

“What are you doing up?” Luke whispered to Nora as he rubbed his eyes.

“A loud noise woke me up, and then a branch snapped off the big tree in the back,” Nora explained as Regan listened at the other end.

“The big tree?” Luke and Regan asked at the same time.

“The big tree,” Nora confirmed.

“My favorite tree!” Regan noted. “Mom, remember you wrote the story about the tree that hit a house and then the family ran into a string of bad luck?”

“I forgot about that story. It was so long ago. Thanks a lot for reminding me.”

“Well, don’t worry. The tree didn’t hit the house. I’ve got to go. This place is so noisy, it’s hard to hear.”

“Give a call over the weekend.”

“Okay.”

Regan hung up and reached for her wineglass. “Sorry, Mike,” she apologized to the tall and attractive man with brown hair and dark skin who was sitting next to her.

“That was your mom?” Mike asked.

“Yes, they’re having quite a storm back east.”

“That’s what Jack told me. By the way, he invited me to your wedding. You’d better be careful. I just might show up.”

Regan smiled. “We’d love it.”

“I should tell you that when Jack called me, I happened to mention there was a drowning at your hotel today.”

Regan grimaced. “Oh, you did?”

“Yes. He sounded surprised.”

“I purposely didn’t tell him,” Regan admitted. “What’s the story on that?”

“We believe it was an accident.”

“Really? Why?”

Mike shrugged. “There are no signs of a struggle on her body. She doesn’t have any known enemies, from what we can gather. Her credit history is good. She didn’t have a lot of money, but she paid her bills. We were told she walked home along the beach and liked to stop and sit on the jetty. They’re doing toxicology tests, but people have said she’d had a couple of drinks. She probably just slipped and fell into the water. Those jetties can get incredibly slippery, and there’s a strong undertow out there.”

“What about her family?” Regan asked.

“The only immediate family is a cousin. The hotel had his number, and we were able to reach him. He was naturally upset but said they weren’t close. I guess you heard about the stolen lei around her neck. Our big question is where she got it.”

“I heard all about it. How was it so quickly identified?”

“It has a very unusual arrangement of shells and different shades of coral stones that is really distinct. One of the guys who brought the body in today had been to the Seashell Museum last weekend with friends who were visiting from the mainland. He had seen the other royal lei on display and knew that its mate had been stolen. He put two and two together.”

“What are you going to do with the lei?”

“We gave it back to the owner of the museum. He’s so happy, he’s out of his mind. They’re auctioning off the matching lei this weekend at the ball at the Waikiki Waters to raise money for the museum.”

“I heard. I wonder if he’ll have them auction off this one as well.”

“I don’t know.”

“So the pair of leis are back together again after having been separated for thirty years.”

“That’s right. They’d been together in the museum for over fifty years, separated for thirty, and now they’re reunited. It’s quite a story.”

“But Dorinda Dawes arrived in Hawaii only three months ago. Does anyone have any idea where she might have gotten that lei?”

“She probably didn’t even know what she had. And she probably didn’t steal it. Apparently she claimed that she had never been to Hawaii before three months ago, and she was a teenager when it was stolen.”

“That girl over there”-Regan pointed to Jasmine who was posing at the bar-“knew Dorinda Dawes in New York.”

“I’ve noticed her in here before,” Mike said. “Something tells me she’s a real player.”

10

B ack at the Waikiki Waters, Will Brown kept himself busy with paperwork all night. He called Kit and Regan’s room a number of times to see if they were back yet. No luck. He wandered out to the reception area for about the twelfth time when he saw them get out of a Land Cruiser.

“Hello,” he said as he ran to greet them.

“Hi, Will,” Kit called out. “You’re burning the midnight oil.”

“No rest for the weary,” he joked. “As you know, it’s been quite a day around here. I’d love to buy you two a drink.”

“Actually,” Regan began, “I’m a little tired.”

Will lowered his voice. “I need to speak to you about a professional matter.”

Noticing how anxious Will looked, Regan acquiesced. “Maybe a quick one,” she said and looked at Kit who nodded in agreement.

“Thatta girls!” Will boomed too forcefully.

This guy is definitely on edge, Regan decided.

Will led them to an airy and spacious outdoor bar that was situated between two of the largest towers. Lilting Hawaiian music was being piped in through speakers hidden in the palm trees and hibiscus plants surrounding the tables and chairs. Everyone must be resting up for another day of sitting on the beach, Regan thought as she glanced around the nearly empty lounge.

“Here we go.” Will indicated a table that was off to the side, under a large palm tree lit with small white lights. A waiter, upon seeing the big boss, hurried over.

Regan and Kit ordered glasses of wine while Will decided on a vodka and tonic.

“Coming right up,” the waiter announced cheerily and hurried off.

“Thank you, girls, for joining me.” Will looked around cautiously to make sure no one was within earshot.

Kit looked at Regan and raised her eyebrows as if to say, “What gives?”

Regan shrugged.

After making sure the place was secure from eavesdroppers, Will cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair, which only made his anxiety worse. It somehow felt thinner than it did an hour ago. Maybe I am tearing my hair out, he thought. “Regan, Kit…” he began. “The Waikiki Waters Playground and Resort is a very reputable hotel. We just did a big and expensive renovation. We have many repeat customers every year. We pride ourselves on our service and our accommodations-”

“What’s wrong?” Regan asked quickly. May as well make him get to the point, she thought.

“Right.” Will nodded as beads of perspiration rolled down his forehead. He cleared his throat. “I feel there are people out there who are intent on ruining the good name of this hotel. There have been lots of little things going wrong. Maybe it’s some of the employees. And the drowning today of Dorinda Dawes…I just don’t think it was an accident.”

Regan leaned forward. “What makes you say that?”

“I saw her before she left, and she said she was going straight home.”

“Did you tell the police that?”

“Yes. But they knew she often walked along the beach to get home. They said she could have decided to stick her toes in the water. It was pretty warm last night.”

“But you don’t believe it?”

“No.”

“Regan,” he continued, “I know you have a great reputation as an investigator.”

“You do?”

“I looked you up on the Internet.”

“Oh.”

“I was wondering if I could hire you to spend the next couple of days talking to people around here. See if you pick up on anything unusual. Lately we’ve had more than our share of petty thefts. We’ve had tubes of suntan lotion dropped into the public toilets, which caused several floods. Several people got sick at the salad bar, which is unusual because we’re very careful about our restaurants. We pride ourselves on the quality of our food. Now Dorinda’s drowning. It’ll be all over the local papers tomorrow. I’ve already had calls from stringers for national papers-all because of that royal lei around her neck and the coincidence that it matches the lei that will be auctioned off at our ball Saturday night. That ball has to be a success!” Will picked up his glass and took a large sip of his drink.

Regan waited. She knew he had a lot more to say.

“I hired Dorinda to work here. I know she got on people’s nerves, and now I feel somehow responsible for her death. If she hadn’t been working here, she would have been someplace else last night. And if there is a murderer at the Waikiki Waters, who’s to say he or she won’t strike again? There’s something going on around here, and I would be grateful if you could help me out. Maybe her killer is in one of those rooms right now.” Will gestured to the towers in the distance.

Wow, Regan thought. He might be overreacting, but who knows? “I understand your concern,” she assured him quietly as the waiter approached and served them their drinks.

“Can I get you anything else, Mr. Brown?”

“Thank you, but no.”

The waiter tapped his tray with his fingers and retreated to the bar.

Regan took a sip of her wine. “If there is someone who is responsible for Dorinda Dawes’s death, that person might have had nothing to do with her personally. Her death may have been a random act of violence. It may be related to the stolen lei. I’d love to help you out, Will, but I’m only going to be here until Monday.”

“That’s okay. I’d just like to get your read on things. And you’ll be here for the ball. Who knows what someone might pull that night? We have a security staff, but I’d like to have someone around who isn’t obviously checking things out for the hotel. I don’t know what else to do. You can probably get people to talk. Just play the nosey tourist-or whatever it is you do. Maybe Dorinda did accidentally drown. I don’t know. But did you ever get the feeling that there’s something that’s not quite right but you can’t quite put your finger on it?”

“Sure,” Regan replied.

“Sometimes when you’re the boss, people don’t want to tell you things. You, I bet, will get people to talk. I just don’t know who to trust anymore.” Will took another swig of his drink. “I’ll be frank with you, Regan. I’m also afraid I’ll lose my job. This all happened on my watch, and the big boys are not happy at all. Dorinda Dawes made herself known around town, not always in the best way, and they feel her life and death reflect badly on the hotel. And on me in particular because I hired her.”

Kit looked at Regan with a raised eyebrow.

He knows more than he’s telling me, Regan thought. “Do you live at the hotel?” she asked him.

“No. My wife, Kim, and I have a little house up the coast. It’s about forty-five minutes away.”

“Your wife?” Regan tried to keep the surprise out of her voice. He wasn’t wearing a wedding band, nor did he have the aura of a married person. Whatever that aura was.

“Yes. We’ve been married for two years. We visited her mother in northern California for Christmas. She stayed on for a few extra weeks with our son. They’ll be back tomorrow night.”

This is getting more interesting, Regan thought. Did he have a personal interest in Dorinda Dawes? Maybe he’s afraid his name will come up in an investigation, and he wants me to help prove he’s not involved.

Kit had listened throughout. Regan had noticed that Kit also seemed surprised when Will said he was married. But Will did seem genuinely anguished. He has a wife and child to support, and he has a good job. If he loses it, he could be out of luck. Regan knew it wasn’t easy to find another job like his in Hawaii. There were too many people who wanted to fill those “executive” spots and live in paradise.

Regan was interested in pursuing the case, but she had come out here to be with Kit. As if Kit could read her mind, she said, “Regan, I know you want to do this. I don’t mind. As long as we can spend some time together.”

“Ain’t love grand?” Regan asked.

Kit laughed. “Yes, it does help that Steve suggested he come over and join us at the beach tomorrow.”

“Lucky for both of us.” Regan turned to Will. “All right. I’ll help you out. But right now I need to get some sleep. I’m still on Los Angeles time. Should I meet you in your office tomorrow morning?”

Will looked as if some of the weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you, Regan. I’ll pay you whatever your rate is. And your next trip here is on me.”

“Fine,” Regan agreed quickly. “Nine o’clock okay?”

“Perfect. Just tell them at the front desk that you have an appointment with me. They won’t question it.”

“Good enough. I’ll be there at nine.”

Will pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow as Don Ho’s famous song “Tiny Bubbles” floated through the air.

11

“Y ou take me to the safest places,” Regan teased Kit as they headed back to their room.

“Leave it to me,” Kit muttered. “But it is a little scary to think that there could be someone at the hotel who murdered Dorinda Dawes.”

“Let’s take a quick walk on the beach,” Regan suggested.

“I thought you were tired.”

“I am. But now my mind is focusing on this case. I want to see what it’s like out here at night.”

They walked past the Grand Pool where a hula show was performed every few nights and stepped out onto the sand. The Pacific Ocean lay before them. The waves lapped gently at the shore. Palm trees swayed softly in the breeze. The moonlight reflected on the water, and the lights from the Waikiki Waters and hotels down the strip made for a beach that was not too dark at all.

Kit followed Regan out to the water’s edge. Regan kicked off her sandals and walked into the water until it covered her ankles. She then turned left and started walking, staying close to the shore. Kit did the same. The beach curved around, and they hit a dark cove that couldn’t be seen from the hotel. Just beyond it was the jetty that Regan figured must have been where Dorinda would stop and sit on her way home.

A couple was sitting there on the rocks in the cove, kissing. They pulled away from each other when they felt the presence of Regan and Kit.

Kit watched in amazement as Regan said, “Excuse me. Could I have a word with you?’

“I just proposed to my girlfriend on a moonlit beach, and you gotta interrupt?” the guy asked Regan incredulously.

“I guess you weren’t here last night then?” Regan prodded.

“It was too cloudy last night. I always wanted it to be a moonlit night, so I waited. Tonight there’s moonlight, so I proposed.”

“I assume she said yes,” Regan quipped.

“I did,” the girl cried happily. She held out her hand to Regan and displayed a diamond ring.

Regan stepped toward them and leaned down. “It’s beautiful,” Regan said sincerely. “I just got engaged, too.”

“Let me see your ring,” the girl enthused.

Regan held out her left hand.

“Wow! Yours is gorgeous, too!”

“Thanks.”

“Where did your boyfriend propose?” the guy asked. He seemed to be thawing.

“In a hot air balloon.”

“That must have been real special,” the girl cried. “A hot air balloon!”

The guy frowned. “I should have thought of that.”

“No, sweetie. A moonlit beach is perfect.” She leaned in for a little kiss. He gave her two.

“Were you by chance out here at all last night?” Regan asked.

“No. I walked out to see if the setting was right to get engaged, but it was too cloudy. So we went dancing.”

“What time was that?”

“Just after ten.”

“Did you notice if there were many people on the beach?”

“I didn’t see too many people. People wander out from the pool area sometimes, but the pool closes at ten. The outdoor bar is open late. We had drinks there the other night and saw a few people stroll out to the beach and take a quick look at the ocean before they went to bed. But most of them are on the beach all day, so they’ve seen enough. You know what I mean?”

“You didn’t see anyone swimming?”

He shook his head. “No. You’d be crazy to swim at night. There are riptides and strong currents around here. You get sucked under, and nobody’s around to help. We stuck our feet in here and felt the swirling.”

“We did, too,” Regan told him.

“You trying to figure out how that lady drowned?”

Before Regan could answer, he continued, “I find that a lot of people take a walk on the beach at night when they’re very upset.”

“Jason!” the girl protested.

“It’s true, Carla.” He turned to Regan. “I woke up at three in the morning last night, and she’s gone. I was a wreck. Where is she? I got dressed, and she walks in the door. She told me she couldn’t sleep and went for a walk on the beach. At three in the morning! I said it would have been nice to leave me a note. Now she tells me she was upset because she was sure I was going to propose last night and didn’t. It was our anniversary yesterday. Ya know, the day we met. Ten years ago.”

Ten years, Regan thought. I’m glad Jack didn’t take that long.

“She transferred to my school in the middle of the seventh grade.”

“My father’s job required a lot of moves,” Carla explained. “But I didn’t walk far on the beach. It felt a little scary. I figured if he was never going to propose, then so be it. There are other fish in the sea.”

“Thanks a lot, honey.”

She hit his arm playfully. “You know what I mean.”

“Did you see anyone out here at that hour?” Regan asked.

“Not a soul! That’s why it was scary. I ended up running back. And to think that body washed up just a few hours later. Oh, my God!”

Her fiancé pulled her close. “Don’t leave me like that again.”

“I won’t.” They started to kiss again.

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Regan said quickly. “But if you recall seeing anything even a little bit odd last night, could you let me know? Anything at all, even if it seems insignificant, might be important. The hotel just wants to ensure the safety of the guests. You can never be too careful.” She gave them her name, room number, and cell phone number.

“Sure,” the girl said. “I can’t think of anything now. I’m kind of too excited. But if I think of something, I’ll give you a call. My name is Carla. We’re in the Coconut Tower.”

“Thanks, Carla.”

Regan and Kit walked back to their room. Kit flopped on her bed. “You’re amazing. Only you could interrupt a couple in a clinch who just got engaged and end up being their pal.”

“I don’t know whether I’m their pal or not,” Regan replied, “but if they call me with anything that might help explain what happened to Dorinda Dawes, then they’ll be my pals. And something tells me that when the excitement of their engagement dies down just a little, she’ll want to talk. Believe me, I’ll be hearing from her.”

12

N ed and Artie were in their room. It was decent-sized but small for two adults, particularly two adults who didn’t want to spend much time together during the day, never mind those vulnerable hours at night. Artie liked to play tapes of his mystical healing as he drifted off to sleep, which drove Ned crazy. Ned always had the television turned to the sports channel, which drove Artie nuts.

Roommates.com would never have paired them up, but the twins had snapped up the opportunity to save money, so Artie was stuck. He couldn’t complain too much since the trip was free, and as Gert and Ev pointed out, everyone shared a room and you should only be in the room to sleep when you’re in a beautiful place like Hawaii.

Ned loved his job at the Waikiki Waters. Because they’d given him a room, he was on call almost all the time, but he didn’t mind. His personality was such that he needed to be on the go continually. His colleagues thought he was intense. Some called him crazed.

It was now midnight, and Ned was doing a set of one hundred sit-ups. Artie was in bed, with his earphones plugged into his CD player. The light was on. Artie had his eyes shut tight, with the sheet over his head. Finally he pulled the earphones out of his ears.

“Ned, could we please turn out the light? I need my rest.”

“I’ve got to finish my sit-ups,” Ned said, breathing heavily.

“I thought it wasn’t good to exercise right before you went to bed,” Artie whined.

“It relaxes me.”

“Last night you took a swim in the pool. Why don’t you do that again?”

“Why don’t you take a walk on the beach, Artie? You’ve been doing that every night. But you didn’t tonight. Something tells me you need it.”

“I like to think things through at the end of the day when I walk on the beach, but tonight I’m tired.”

“What do you think about?” Ned asked as he kept count of his sit-ups.

“Like whether I should move on from Hudville.”

“Move out of Hudville?”

“Yeah. Too much rain and not enough people willing to pony up the money for a massage. I’m thinking of moving to Sweden. I hear people like massages there.”

Ned rolled his eyes. “They must have plenty of masseurs. Maybe you should move to Hawaii. That’s what I did. I moved here when I separated from my wife last year, and I feel much better.”

“I don’t know,” Artie said as he clenched and unclenched his hands. “I feel restless. I feel as if there are new things out there that I should be doing.”

“Those relaxation tapes aren’t helping you much,” Ned noted.

“Don’t make fun of my tapes.”

“I’m not. Why don’t we go for a run?”

“Now?”

“Why not? You have too much tension built up inside. Run it off, and you’ll sleep like a baby.”

“I’ll sleep like a baby right now if we just turned out the light.”

“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred. Done!” Ned jumped up from the floor. “I’ll take a quick shower, then lights out.”

I can’t take it, Artie thought. I just can’t take it. Down the hall, the Wiltons were lying in bed. They were discussing their chapter of the book on how to keep a relationship exciting.

Bob thought Betsy got a little too jealous at times. He liked to kid around with the ladies. No harm intended. But Betsy didn’t like it one bit. That brought excitement to their relationship, but it wasn’t the right kind. Some couples liked to fight so they could have fun making up. Not Betsy Wilton.

“Now, for instance,” Bob said as he folded his hands across his chest, “when that lady who drowned was taking pictures of us last night and I told her how good she smelled, you gave me the evil eye. Then you left in a huff and went back to the room.”

“The reason you knew how good she smelled was because you put your arm around her and gave her a big hug. Just because she took our picture. That wasn’t necessary.”

Bob considered this. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.”

“I guess it doesn’t.”

“She’s dead.”

“That she is.”

“I came back to the room, and you were fast asleep.”

“I took a little piece of a sleeping pill.”

“No wonder you were out like a light.” Bob smiled mischievously. “You know, Dorinda Dawes was wearing a shell lei when she died. I think they’re sexy. I’ll see if I can buy you one tomorrow. Good night, dear.”

“Good night,” Betsy said as she stared up at the ceiling. Writing about bringing out the excitement in a relationship is bringing out the worst in him, she thought. It’s getting downright scary.

Two single women sharing a room when they were thirty years apart in age presented challenges all its own. But thankfully Francie and Joy were both slobs. On that score they were a match made in heaven. The bathroom counter was littered with makeup, creams, suntan lotions, and hair care products of every variety. Towels and clothes were piled in heaps everywhere.

They probably could have been good friends if Joy were a little older. But Joy was still sowing her wild oats and had no interest in anyone who was north of twenty-five. It was nearly three in the morning when she tiptoed into the room. She had managed to hook up with a group of young people who worked at the hotel. They had gone to Duke’s and then partied on a stretch of beach in front of the restaurant. Zeke, the lifeguard she had a crush on, was there, and he’d spent the night talking to her. He didn’t walk her back to her room because the staff wasn’t supposed to socialize with the hotel guests, but he’d told her to meet him the next night at the bar at the Sheraton Moana. Joy was thrilled. It would make her day with the Mixed Bag Tour group bearable.

Joy tried to be quiet as she slipped into the bathroom and undressed. She picked the T-shirt she slept in off the floor and pulled it over her head. Too tired to take off her makeup, she did manage to give her teeth the once-over with a tattered toothbrush.

Holding her breath, she turned out the bathroom light and slowly opened the door. Five seconds later she was under the covers. That’s a relief, she thought as she felt herself relax. Across the table, Francie’s voice rang out: “How was your night? You must tell me all about it!”

Oh, my God, Joy thought. I can’t cope!

Gert and Ev had a suite with a sitting room and a bedroom that was larger than all the others in the group. That’s because they were in charge. They tried to book the same rooms for every trip, but of course it wasn’t always possible. But they always managed to get rooms next to one another with adjoining terraces overlooking the water. Sometimes the Lucky Seven stood out on their terraces and chatted back and forth. There was no escaping each other.

Having lived together all their lives, Gert and Ev were as in synch as two people could be. They possessed a sixth sense often shared by twins. They still wore the same clothes, used the same products, and now shared many of the same aches and pains. Ev had more of an edge than Gert. She didn’t always take to the people they had to drag on the trips.

“Those Wiltons are so annoying,” she called to Gert from the bathroom as she was flossing her teeth.

“No sunshine from them,” Gert agreed.

“I’m glad we have the day off tomorrow. We’ll have our own fun.”

“I can’t wait.”

Ev threw the floss in the trash, washed her hands again, rinsed her mouth, and went in and flopped on her bed. “Do you think we’ll find us some good deals tomorrow?”

Gert smiled at her twin. “You betcha. We’ll make ourselves some real good deals.”

The twins high-fived each other, said a prayer for their deceased parents, an extra-special prayer for Sal Hawkins, and went to sleep.