Burned

13

S till on Los Angeles time Regan had awakened early, dressed, and left a note for Kit who was sleeping soundly when she left the room. By 7 A.M. Regan had already gone for a walk on the beach. Not wanting to deal with the big buffet in the main dining room, she went into one of the smaller cafés for breakfast.

It felt good being up so early. The air was fresh, and the beach was quiet and calm. Whenever Regan dragged herself out of bed at the crack of dawn, she told herself she had to do it more often. But her resolve never lasted. Rising with the roosters only worked when she went to sleep early or when her body was on a different time zone from where she happened to be.

In the Pineapple Café, Regan took a seat at the counter. The Waikiki Waters wanted to cater to all types of people, so they had all kinds of restaurants. This particular café felt like a coffee shop in New York except that it had wallpaper depicting pineapple fields. Regan reached for the stack of local newspapers on the counter that were shared by the customers. She pulled over the newspaper on the top of the heap as the waitress approached her.

“Coffee?” she asked and started to pour before Regan responded. I guess she doesn’t get too many negative responses to that question, Regan thought.

“Yes, thanks,” Regan answered unnecessarily as she stared at the front page. There was a picture of a smiling, attractive woman with a big orchid in her hair, identified as Dorinda Dawes, the tragic victim of a drowning accident at the Waikiki Waters.

“Shame, isn’t it?” the waitress remarked.

Regan looked at the woman who appeared to be in her late sixties-quite a bit older than the typical employee at the Waikiki Waters. She had a tight pageboy hairdo, a dark tan, and a wry smile. A pineapple-shaped name tag that said Winnie and about a dozen buttons that dispensed advice on life were pinned to her pink jacket. One of them read “Live every day as if it’s your last. Someday you’ll be right.” How appropriate, Regan thought, then asked, “Did you know Dorinda Dawes?”

“I saw her around a little bit. But you know I only work when the young folks call in sick. Whenever the surf’s up, you can be sure that they all suddenly come down with bad colds. Then they run off to the ocean with their surfboards. That’s why they’re in Hawaii. So the management has us older, more reliable types on call.” She raised her eyebrows. “It gets me out of the house. I must say I like it because I can say no if I feel like it. And sometimes that’s just what I do. I tell them, ‘No way, José.’ ”

“It’s good to be in that position,” Regan noted as she glanced back at the newspaper. “I hear the real mystery is where she got that historic lei.”

“I know it!” The waitress’s eyes snapped. She dropped her voice. “The word is that she was running around the other night taking lots of pictures and asking too many questions. People were getting annoyed. Then she talked about having to go home and get her newsletter done. Next thing you know, her body washes ashore and she’s wearing a lei no one had seen her with.”

“Had she been drinking?” Regan asked.

“How do I know? I wasn’t here. But I’ve seen her in action with a wineglass in one hand and the camera in the other. My friend Tess works here, too, and we were talking about this on the phone last night. Dorinda was always in the middle of every cocktail party they held here. Taking pictures, asking questions. Enough already!” Winnie lowered her voice. “If you want to know the truth, we think she was on the hunt for a guy. Well, why not? She was a nice-looking gal. And some of the men who come to the conferences are mighty handsome. Problem is, most of them are married. But let me tell you, she was some flirt!” Winnie nodded her head for emphasis. “You know what she seemed like to me and Tess? One of those women who love, love, love the men but have no use for women. Did you ever meet one of those?”

Oh, yes, Regan thought. She’s still alive, and her name is Jazzy.

14

A t 9:01 A.M. Regan was seated in the chair in front of Will’s desk. He looked a little weary, she thought. This guy has a lot on his mind. His bright blue and white Hawaiian shirt did not offset the gray pallor of his face.

“Sleep well?” he asked her.

“For several hours. But then I woke early. How about you?”

“Okay. But I’m used to having my wife and son around. I’ll be glad when they get back tonight. I’ll also be glad when this Princess ball is over and done with.”

Regan nodded and pulled the newspaper out of her bag. “Did you see this?” She indicated the front-page article on Dorinda Dawes.

“I read it at six-thirty this morning.”

“I was interested to read that Dorinda Dawes was writing a series of articles about life in Hawaii for a new travel magazine. She was profiling people who had come to Hawaii to start a second career.”

“In the few months she was here she managed to get into a lot of things. She was like dandruff. All over the place. At first I didn’t mind. What we paid her to do the newsletter wasn’t enough to live on. But she also had plans to start her own gossip sheet about goings-on in Waikiki and Honolulu. She told me she really wanted to uncover big stories. That made me nervous. I insisted that she keep the newsletter friendly. It wasn’t easy. Let’s just say it wasn’t in her nature to be nice. But who wants to come to a hotel where they might write snippy things about you? The first newsletter she wrote was all about the celebrities who stay here, but I wouldn’t print it.”

“I heard about that.”

“You did?”

“Yes. From a girl named Jazzy.”

Will rolled his eyes. “More dandruff. She’s trying to get into everything. She’s organizing the gift bags for the ball.”

“She told me that, too. You don’t like her?”

“Jazzy is out for Jazzy. She’s also out for her boss. He’s actually helping to underwrite the ball because he’s trying to kick off a line of Hawaiian-style clothing. He’s donating his Hawaiian shirts and muumuus for the gift bag.”

“She didn’t mention that. Have you seen the clothes?”

“No. But I understand there are sketches of shell leis on them. It goes along with the princess theme.”

“I take it this is an important ball for the hotel.”

Will nodded. “It’s our first big event since the renovation. And it’s a very important ball for the organizations that will benefit from this fund-raiser.”

“What organizations?” Regan asked.

“The Seashell Museum and a group called Aloha Artists. Basically it’s a bunch of people who got together and built a studio for young artists and sculptors and craftsmen who produce native Hawaiian art. They can go to the studio to work and just be with one another. They sometimes have guest artists, and they’re trying to organize more formal classes. That’s why the auction of the royal lei is such a big thing. It shows how important native art is and how good art can be passed down for generations. Now that Liliuokalani’s lei has been found, the board of Aloha Artists is in a frenzy. They want to auction off both leis, although they’re trying to be tasteful about it. After all, one of them was found on a dead woman. And of course they have to convince the owner of the Seashell Museum to hand the lei over for the auction.”

Regan raised her eyebrows. “I thought I’d go over to the Seashell Museum this morning and see if I can talk to someone about when the lei was stolen. Maybe it’ll lead to something. I can’t help but think that lei has something to do with Dorinda’s death. If I can find out where she got the lei, it may provide some clues as to how and why she died.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Will agreed, his voice barely audible.

“In the meantime could you gather together all the newsletters that Dorinda Dawes wrote? I’d love to take a look at them.” Regan looked down at the newspaper. “I’d also like copies of the travel magazine. It says here it’s called Spirits in Paradise.” Regan looked back up at Will. “Do you know whom she interviewed for the pieces she did?”

Will shrugged. “It’s a monthly magazine. She had only one article published so far, in this month’s issue. She was working on another. I think she mentioned something about maybe going over to the Big Island for an interview. I must admit I never read the magazine. Dorinda talked so much, it went in one ear and out the other. But I’ll get the article for you. We have the magazine for our guests in the spas and beauty salons.”

“Thanks. I was wondering, did Dorinda have a locker here?”

“No. Only the employees who wear uniforms have lockers.”

“What time did you last see Dorinda on Wednesday night?

“It was about eleven-thirty. We both worked late. She had been taking pictures at a couple of events at the hotel and as usual went into the bars and restaurants to see who might want their picture taken. She poked her head in my office door and said good-bye. Her camera was still in her hand, and I think she had a bag over her shoulder.”

“And she wasn’t wearing the lei.”

“No, she wasn’t.”

“And her purse hasn’t been recovered.”

“No.”

Regan pushed her chair back and stood. “I’ll take a cab to the museum. I assume you’ll be here when I get back.”

Will looked at her with wide, concerned eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

15

T he Seashell Museum was about a twenty-minute ride from the Waikiki Waters Hotel. Regan looked out the window as the cab drove down the main street of Waikiki, headed in the direction of Diamond Head. It was a beautiful Friday morning. Shoppers were going in and out of the stores, and swimmers were crossing the street, headed for the beach, surfboards and boogie boards in tow. The water looked blue and inviting, the temperature was about eighty degrees, and the sun was shining brightly. Perfect Hawaiian weather.

Regan thought about Dorinda Dawes. People seemed to have definite opinions about her. She certainly must have come on strong. There were a lot of people Regan wanted to talk to about Dorinda, but first she wanted to read the newsletters and take a look at Spirits in Paradise.

At the museum, which was on a hill overlooking the beach, Regan paid the cabdriver and got out. It was a beautiful, somewhat secluded spot. A handful of cars was parked in the lot in front of the museum. The entrance was around back. Regan followed the walkway to the front door, went inside, and was told by a young girl behind the cash register that they didn’t open until ten o’clock. The girl had long shiny black hair adorned with an orchid.

“What I really wanted,” Regan explained as she handed the girl her card, “was to talk to someone about the shell lei that was found on the body of the woman who drowned. I understand it was returned to the museum.”

The girl squinted her eyes at Regan. “You need to talk to Jimmy. He’s a conchologist, and he owns the museum.”

“Conchologist?”

“He’s a person who can tell you everything you ever wanted to know about shells and some stuff you could care less about. He’s down the hill, sitting on the beach. Go talk to him.”

“Maybe I should wait…”

The girl waved her hand at Regan. “Nah. Go ahead.”

“Okay, thanks. What does he look like?”

“He’s big, pretty old, mostly bald, and he’ll be sitting cross-legged.”

Regan smiled. “How do you know he’ll be sitting like that?”

“Because he’s always looking at his feet. He walks so much on the beach that he occasionally gets cut by the shells. He’s fascinated by the marks they leave on his skin.”

“How interesting,” Regan murmured, more to herself, as she went back outside and paused briefly. The view of the Pacific was awesome. She inhaled a breath of fresh fragrant air and headed down the stone steps on the side of the museum to the beach.

There was no missing Jimmy.

He was a big man indeed and was sitting cross-legged on the sand. His eyes were closed, and he was wearing what looked like a toga. The toga reminded Regan of fraternity parties she’d been to in college where people acted rowdy. But Jimmy was the only one at this party, and it certainly wasn’t lively. There was no one else around. He looked like some sort of spiritual guru. His brown skin was deeply tanned, and a slight breeze blew back and forth the little bits of sparse hair that remained on his head. His eyes were closed.

Assuming he was meditating, Regan stopped a few feet behind the lone figure. She was deciding what to do when he opened his eyes and turned to her.

“Howzit. You looking for Jimmy?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Jimmy’s here.”

“Hi, Jimmy,” Regan responded, wondering why people would refer to themselves in the third person. She wanted to add: “Regan Reilly here, too.”

“You like the beach?” Jimmy asked almost accusingly.

“Oh, yes.” Regan gestured toward the ocean with her hands. “Of course with my light skin I can’t take too much sun.”

Jimmy looked at her sternly.

He thinks I’m an idiot, Regan decided. Oh, well. “I’m staying at the Waikiki Waters, and I’ll rent an umbrella so I can enjoy the surf and the sand.”

Jimmy’s eyes finally showed some interest. “Waikiki Waters. A lady drowned there yesterday. She was wearing a very special lei that was stolen from the museum here.” He gestured with his fist toward the building behind them. “What was she doing with my lei?”

“I couldn’t tell you, Jimmy,” Regan answered. “But I understand you’re the one to talk to about the history of the lei.” She took out her ID. “The hotel hired me to look into her death. The police think it was an accidental drowning. The hotel manager isn’t so sure. And the lei complicates matters.”

“You like pineapple juice?”

“I have to say that I don’t drink it very often, but I do enjoy a glass now and then.”

“Good. Let’s go up to my museum. I will show you the lei, and we can talk. I started working here fifty years ago. Now it’s mine. It’s not as big as the Bishop Museum, but we have valuable shells.” He pushed down on the sand with his hands and managed to hoist himself to his feet. He was over six feet tall with a big belly, but his arms looked thick and strong.

Regan followed the large man back up the stone steps and into the museum. It was an old building that smelled of the sand and the sea. Seashells of all shapes and sizes hung on the walls. In front of the register was a cabinet of shell jewelry for sale. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and rings were all on display. The girl at the desk nodded when he walked past her. Regan followed him down the hall. He pointed to his office. “Sit down in there,” he instructed Regan. “Jimmy be right back.”

Regan did as she was told. So much for coming to Hawaii for a load of laughs and fun, she thought. But it was all right. New cases always excited her, and this one was no different. She’d rather be talking to a conchologist than sitting on the beach all day. I guess that’s why God made my skin burn so easily, she reasoned as she took a seat in Jimmy’s little office. A large poster of a shell adorned the wall behind his desk. It reminded Regan of the magnified picture of a dust mite hung in all its glory behind her allergist’s desk. Different strokes for different folks.

Jimmy returned with two glasses of pineapple juice and a shell lei around his neck. Could it be the one that was around Dorinda Dawes’s neck yesterday morning? Regan accepted the drink, and Jimmy clinked her glass. “Aloha,” he toasted.

The fresh juice was tangy and delicious. Regan could almost feel the sugar race through her system. She watched as Jimmy walked around the desk and lowered himself onto the chair.

“Jimmy loves shells,” he began. “I grew up in Hawaii and spent many hours walking on the beach collecting them. I had a problem with my back when I was a child, so I couldn’t surf. But I liked to be on the beach. It made me feel good. If shells cut my feet, I didn’t care. Jellyfish bother me. They sting. Shells don’t hurt anyone. Now I own the Seashell Museum. Jimmy very proud.” Reverently he removed the lei from around his neck. “Thirty years ago this was stolen. I never dreamed I’d get it back. Here, take a look,” he offered Regan. “The police brought it back to me yesterday. I’ve missed it.”

Regan put down her empty glass and took the lei in her hands. It was truly beautiful. The shells were intricate and gorgeous, and the colors running through them ranged from coral to white to beige. Some of them were slightly chipped, but the lei was even more beautiful than many expensive necklaces she had seen.

“Jimmy knows what you’re thinking,” he said. “It’s like fine jewelry. The royal ladies liked them better than pearls.”

“I heard the story that this one was made for Queen Liliuokalani and the other for her niece Princess Kaiulani.”

“They loved these leis!” Jimmy answered vehemently. “They wore them in public all the time. The leis were donated to the Seashell Museum when it was founded in the 1920s. They hung side by side in a glass case until the burglary.”

Regan caressed the shells. “It’s hard to believe this was worn so long ago.”

“Then on a dead body.”

Regan sighed. “On someone who had never been to Hawaii until three months ago. I can’t imagine where she found this lei. Can you tell me what happened when the lei was stolen?”

Jimmy leaned back on his desk chair and looked up in the air. Regan noticed that the pencils in a mug on his desk had shell-shaped erasers. “We didn’t have an alarm system yet. But now we do!” he said with sudden force, then calmed down again. “Someone broke in and smashed the glass cases holding the precious shell leis. The thief also gathered up a lot of our famous seashells and threw them in a bag. A cop on patrol noticed a light coming from the museum and checked it out. The thief jumped in a stolen car and raced into town, the police in hot pursuit. The cops cornered him in an alley downtown, but he managed to escape. He dropped the bag when he climbed over the fence. If you can believe it, they never found him. Everything was recovered except this one lei, the lei that was worn by our last queen.”

“You’re absolutely sure that this is it.”

Once again he looked at Regan sternly. “Jimmy be right back.”

Sometimes he starts a sentence with “I” and sometimes with “Jimmy,” Regan observed. I wonder how he decides when to refer to himself in the third person. Regan stared at the priceless lei in her hands. Where had Dorinda Dawes been when she placed it around her neck? Leis were given in a spirit of hospitality, love, and peace. Regan had read that the memory of having a lei placed on your shoulders should last forever. Forever didn’t turn out to be too long for Dorinda. She must have put the lei around her neck shortly before she died. No one had seen her with it that night. Was it possible that whoever stole the lei years ago knew Dorinda Dawes and had been the one to give it to her?

Jimmy reentered the office. He handed Regan another shell lei. It was uncanny. Shell for shell, they were a perfect match, except for the fact that Liliuokalani’s lei had one small black lava bead.

“Now you believe Jimmy?” he asked.

Regan nodded. “I certainly do.”

He took both leis from Regan and hung them over his beefy index finger. A dark expression came over his face. “If you find the guy who stole this lei, kept it from us for so many years, I will take care of him.” He banged the desk with his free hand. “Makes me so mad.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Regan assured him.

He turned and stared down at Regan. She felt the bottom of his toga brush against her foot. “That lady who died,” he said, disapprovingly, “something tells me she stuck her nose too much in other people’s business.”

“You could be right about that,” Regan noted as she shifted in her seat. “One final thing. I know that Princess Kaiulani’s lei is going to be auctioned off at the Princess Ball tomorrow night.”

“Yes. Half the money goes to Aloha Artists, half goes to Jimmy’s Seashell Museum.”

“That’s wonderful. I understand they’re asking you to auction off this other lei as well.”

“Jimmy hasn’t decided yet. Those special shells have been away a long time. Maybe I should keep them here for a while. I’ve missed the lei so much, my heart broke every day for thirty years.” He paused. “But we could use the money.”

“There’s always that. Will you be at the ball?”

“Of course. Jimmy will sit at a special table. I will wear both leis around my neck. People will see how beautiful they are before the auction starts.”

They could probably use a better-looking model, Regan reflected as she reached for her purse and made motions to leave. “Thank you, Jimmy, I’m sure I’ll see you at the ball.”

“I think I will decide whether to let them auction Queen Liliuokalani’s lei after I see how much Princess Kaiulani’s lei fetches.”

“Makes sense,” Regan muttered.

“Call Jimmy if you need me. I will be of help to you.”

I wouldn’t be surprised, Regan mused. I wouldn’t be surprised at all.

16

T he Mixed Bag Tour group was finishing up their breakfast in the largest restaurant of the Waikiki Waters hotel. It was a busy place, filled with rattan furniture and tropical plants. A large waterfall cascaded down one wall. Tourists were lining up for the buffet of pancakes, eggs, and fresh Hawaiian fruit that tasted much better than the fruit back home. Gert and Ev always managed to secure a large table in the section closest to the open doors that looked out on the ocean. Ned had already gotten up and down a number of times to refill his plate.

“I’ve got to have the energy to surf,” he explained, more to himself than anyone at the table. “Man, am I pumped.” He picked up his spoon and dug into a bowl of oatmeal.

“I hope you all have a lovely day,” Ev said. “We’ll meet back here for sunset cocktails and share our experiences.”

Betsy pursed her lips. “Bob and I won’t discuss our writing, and that’s what we’ll be doing today. What we write is much too personal.”

What are you going to do if that book ever sees the light of day? Ev wondered. Won’t it still be just as personal? I’d love to silence her. She belongs in the rain in Hudville. But Ev just smiled. “That’s all right. We’ll just enjoy being together. I want the three of you who are surfing today to please be careful and return to the safety and comfort of the Waikiki Waters.”

“This place isn’t so safe,” Joy declared as she picked at the dollop of cottage cheese on her plate. She wanted to look good in her bathing suit for Zeke. She had a nice figure but wished she’d gone to the gym more before this trip. She hadn’t had the motivation. Now she did. Too late. Washboard abs were thousands and thousands of crunches down the road. Her curly blond hair was pulled on top of her head, and she was wearing shorts and a little pink top that she’d bought at the one semi-hip store in Hudville. Maybe I’ll go shopping today, she thought. Pick out a new outfit to wear tonight. After I catch a few rays.

“What do you mean it isn’t so safe here?” Gert asked. She and Ev had a practiced schoolmarm tone they used when they wanted to express disapproval to one of their group members. Ev was better at it than Gert.

Joy looked up from her plate and stared at Gert. Sometimes she got the twins mixed up. She thought their matching outfits were a bit much for women their age. Today they didn’t have on their usual muumuus. That was a surprise. They were wearing stretch pants and long-sleeved shirts, which seemed a bit odd. It was eighty degrees, for God’s sake. “Aren’t you hot?” Joy replied.

“Hot?”

“Why don’t you have your muumuus on?”

“When we go in and out of hotels, inspecting them for the good of the future residents of Hudville who make this trip, we don’t want to catch a cold,” Gert explained.

“Air conditioning can be so drafty,” Ev agreed. “And the last thing I need is to get on the plane home with a cold. Makes you feel like your head is going to explode.”

“You’re darn right,” her sister nodded as she bit into a large pastry. Her mouth half full, she realized she hadn’t yet gotten an answer from Joy. “What do you mean this place isn’t so safe?” she asked, holding a napkin in front of her mouth as she spoke with her mouth full. The pastry wasn’t chewed enough to swallow, but Gert couldn’t wait to ask the question.

“I heard things last night.”

“Like what?” the twins asked in unison.

“Like the woman who drowned might have been murdered.”

Gert and Ev both inhaled sharply. “Who says that?” they both asked at once.

The group all had fixed their gazes on Joy. Ned looked up from his oatmeal. Artie, who had been staring out at the water, finally started paying attention. Francie, who had been applying makeup, put her lipstick down on the table with a dramatic flourish. As usual, Bob and Betsy’s expressions didn’t change. Well, maybe Bob’s did a little. Sometimes Joy wondered if they were alive. Now, as the whole group stared at her, she realized she liked the attention. They don’t think I’m such a baby anymore, she told herself proudly. “I’m not at liberty to tell you.”

“Why do they think she might have been murdered?” Ev asked, her expression steely.

“Because the hotel has had some weird stuff going on. Things going wrong. They think there’s a phantom who is pulling pranks, and just maybe this phantom is getting a little more dangerous. There have been a couple of incidents-problems with food, and people who had a few drinks and ended up much more hungover than they should have been. Now maybe the phantom is stepping things up!”

Gert and Ev looked at each other in horror.

“They made me promise not to say anything,” Joy added.

Artie rolled his eyes. Joy annoyed him because she clearly considered him an old person. “Then why did you? That’s bad karma.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Ned protested. “This is a good hotel, and the manager does a great job. Dorinda Dawes drowned. It’s that simple.”

Gert cleared her throat. “It seems to me that rumors and troublemakers abound. They are everywhere. This is a lovely hotel, and we shouldn’t let other people’s idle gossip destroy it. Perhaps people were hungover because they had way too much of a good thing. Ever think of that?”

Joy shook her head. “I heard one lady had a Shirley Temple and threw up all over the place.”

Ned looked at his watch. “ ‘Surf’s up!’ as they say. I’m disappointed to see that only two of the Lucky Seven are coming with me. Next time I hope to do better. Gert and Ev, you shouldn’t be worrying about other hotels. As you say, this is a good place. The renovation made it even better.” He laughed. “After all, I was hired. Will would be disappointed if he thought you were checking out other places and thinking of going elsewhere. You should come up north with us today. It’s a beautiful drive.”

Gert shook her head. “We’re always looking out for the good of the future trip-takers from Hudville. It’s up to us to make sure there are many. The funds are not limitless, you know. Ev and I are worried that many people will be disappointed because they won’t get to come to Hawaii.”

“That’ll be hard for you two,” Francie said as she inspected herself in her compact mirror. “After going on these trips for years, how will you cope when the money is gone?”

“We have inner strength,” Gert replied.

“Inner strength coupled with the fact that some of the other elderly church members are thinking of leaving some of their money to the Mixed Bag Tour group,” Ev added.

“I didn’t know that,” Francie exclaimed. “Who plans to be so generous? Because let me tell you, if they’re in the Praise the Rain group, I haven’t met them.”

“I can’t divulge that information,” Ev replied quietly. “The potential benefactors wish to remain anonymous.”

“That I’ll never understand,” Francie announced as she picked a piece of mascara from under her eyelid. “I just have two questions about them: Are any of them single? And how close to the end are they?”

Ned laughed. “Francie, find someone your own age to pick on.”

Francie snapped her compact shut. “There are no good ones left my age.”

Get me out of here, Joy thought. This is depressing. I’m only twenty-one.

“You know,” Francie continued, “now that I’ve been on this trip and am out of the running to be in the lottery, I’d like to see what the other hotels have to offer because I would like to come back. Maybe I should go with you today,” she suggested to the twins.

“Francie!” Ned protested. “It’s you, me, and Artie together today.”

But he didn’t have to worry about losing one of his charges. Both twins looked as if they’d been hit in the head. Ev reached over and put her hand on Gert’s. “You see, Francie,” she began patiently, “today is what we call our ‘twin time.’ Just the two of us together.”

“It’s almost as if we speak our own language,” Gert added. “No one else understands it.”

“I guess the answer is no,” Francie said.

“That’s right.”

“But don’t you two live together at home?” Francie asked rhetorically. “If that were me and my sister, we’d be on each other’s nerves. Working together at the store, living together, traveling together. Sheesh!”

“We’ve been blessed with a special bond,” Gert said, trying to make it clear. “We’re not just sisters. We’re best buds.”

I’m going to be sick, Joy thought.

“Francie, you’ll have a great time with us,” Ned said. He looked insulted.

Francie, who recovered in no time, smiled flirtatiously. “I know I will.”

They all got up from the table. Bob and Betsy headed back to their room without saying good-bye. Joy headed for the beach as fast as she could. Ned, Artie, and Francie went out front to look for the van that was picking them up. Gert and Ev proclaimed they were going back to their room to brush and floss before heading out, and waved good-bye.

At the elevator bank Gert looked at Ev and winked. When they got up to the door of their room, Ev pulled out her key. “I thought we’d never get out of there,” she said.

“Oh, I know it. We need our privacy today, don’t we, sister?” Gert asked.

“We sure do.”

The door next to them closed, and they both turned with a start. A blond-haired woman they’d seen a few times in the last week nodded hello to them. They had noticed her going out with a dark-haired woman last night. “Hello,” the twins greeted her sweetly.

“Hello,” she answered politely.

Once inside their room, they looked at each other nervously.

“I’ll be relieved when our special project is finished,” Ev admitted.

“You said it. But we’re about to cross the finish line.”

Ev smiled. “And nothing’s going to stop us.”

17

T he couple whom Regan talked to on the beach went to bed very late. When they got back to the room, they drank champagne. Then, when it was a reasonable hour on the East Coast, Carla got on the horn. She couldn’t wait to tell her friends and family the good news about her engagement.

Carla’s mother was greatly relieved. “It’s about time!” she declared in a sleepy voice. “I thought he’d propose on your anniversary. All day yesterday I cried. I didn’t like the idea of you living with him at such a young age and wasting your time. He’s finally doing right by you.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Carla said. “I gotta go.” She then called her sisters and her ten best friends. All of whom screamed with joy. All of whom she asked to be bridesmaids. All of whom said yes and said they’d have been insulted if she hadn’t asked.

Jason was lying on the bed with his eyes closed while she squealed the news over and over again. When the phone was finally free, he called his parents, but they weren’t home. He left them a brief message. “Carla and I got engaged. Talk to you. Bye.”

“Aren’t you going to call your friends?” Carla asked in disbelief.

“Why? I’ll tell them when I get back.”

It was very late when they finally went to sleep.

When they woke just a few hours later, they ordered room service. “I love it,” Carla cooed as she admired her ring. “I love you. I love us. I am soooo happy.”

“I hope the coffee gets here soon,” Jason grumbled as he turned on his side. Two nights in a row he hadn’t gotten anywhere near his full eight hours of rest, which was very important to him. Between the night Carla disappeared and all the phone calls last night, he was way behind on his rack time.

Carla wrapped herself in one of the blue and white cotton robes provided by the hotel and pulled open the sliding glass door to the balcony. She stepped outside, walked to the railing where Jason’s beach towel was draped, and pulled it off. The hotel had specifically asked people not to hang their belongings over the railing. They said it made the place look like a flophouse. They also didn’t want people’s bathing suits and towels getting blown off and landing on other guests’ heads. She sighed deeply. Sometimes Jason was in another world.

Their tower was set back from the beach. From their fourth-floor terrace, they could see people wandering in and out of the shops. Carla spotted the blond-haired woman who had been on the beach with Regan Reilly the night before. Exuberantly, Carla yelled down to her. “Hey!” she called, waving her arms.

Kit looked up, squinting her eyes. “Hi! How are you?”

“Great. I was thinking about what your friend asked me last night-you know, if I noticed anything odd on the beach the other night.”

“Did you think of something?” Kit called.

“No. But it’s on the tip of my tongue-or right off the top of my head, or whatever. I know there was something weird, but I just can’t remember what it was. But tell her I’ll think of it.”

“I’ll tell her.”

“Okay. Have a nice day.”

“You, too.”

Carla went back inside where Jason was slowly starting to come to life. He had decided to make coffee using the little pot on the counter in the bathroom. He ripped open the envelope of coffee granules, and they scattered all over.

“Oh, forget it,” he groaned and lay back down on the bed.

On the desk was a copy of the magazine called Spirits in Paradise. It had a sticker that read: “Please do not remove from the spa.” Carla grabbed the magazine, propped a pillow against the head-board, and made herself comfortable. Skimming through the pages, she came across an article about the Big Island’s version of graffiti. People collected coral shells on the beach and used them to spell out messages on the dark volcanic rocks lining the sides of the highways. Many people used the shells to express their love for each other.

“Cool,” she said aloud.

“What?” Jason asked.

Carla pointed to the picture of the graffiti and explained it to Jason. “Why don’t we go over there today?” she asked excitedly. “We’ll go on the beach, collect the shells, and then write out Jason and Carla forever. And the date. And we’ll take a picture we can show our kids years from now. It’ll be in the collage at our fiftieth anniversary party.”

“We’re not even married yet. I can’t believe you’re thinking about our fiftieth anniversary. I thought you wanted to swim in the big dolphin-shaped pool today.”

“They have gorgeous black beaches on the Big Island. We can go swimming over there. We’re leaving Sunday and won’t get this chance again.”

“We might not get a flight,” Jason said hopefully.

“Let’s call and see. It doesn’t take that long to get there. It says so in this article. And we don’t have to pack a suitcase or anything.”

“How are we going to get around?”

“They say you can rent a car at the airport. Why not? This is a very special occasion in our lives, Jason.”

The doorbell rang. “Coming,” Jason boomed as he jumped up and hurried to the door. While the room service waiter wheeled in a table full of breakfast goodies, Carla picked up the phone and called the airlines.

“A flight at eleven thirty?” she repeated. “You have two seats left? Perfect!” She gave the credit card information and hung up the phone. “Two seats left, Jason. It was meant to be.”

“How come we didn’t think of this before?” Jason asked as he cut up his pancakes.

“Because you took so long to propose, that’s why.”

“The best things to do always come up at the end of a vacation,” Jason muttered. “Things seem like they’d be even better than they really are when you have no time left to do them.”

“Well, we do have time to do this, so hurry up and eat!”

Carla ran into the shower, thinking about the picture they’d take of their names written out in shells. She’d have it blown up and hung over their fireplace. It would mean good luck for them forever. It never occurred to her that this could turn out to be a very bad idea. A very, very bad idea.

18

G ert and Ev were settled in their seats at the front of the small plane that would soon be taking off for Kona on the Big Island.

“Ready to go,” Gert declared as she fastened the seat belt around her.

“That’s right.” Ev stuffed a giant bag under her seat. It contained everything from suntan lotion to notebooks to an extra battery for her cell phone. She also had a couple of disposable cameras.

“We’ll be taking off in a few moments,” the flight attendant announced. “We’re just waiting for two more passengers.”

“Here we are!” a young girl’s voice cried breathlessly. “We made it!” She stepped onto the plane, and a young man followed her. The flight attendant smiled but urged them to take their seats quickly.

“We will,” the girl replied. As she turned to head down the aisle, she spotted Gert and Ev. “Hey there,” she enthused. “Haven’t I seen you two at the Waikiki Waters?”

“Maybe,” Ev said in a tone that did not encourage further discussion-at least to most people.

“Don’t you love it?”

“Ummmmm,” Ev replied.

“This is my fiancé, Jason.”

“Please take your seats,” the flight attendant ordered. “We are striving for an on-time departure.”

“Okay, okay. See you two later.”

When the couple disappeared down the aisle, Gert and Ev looked at each other.

“Don’t worry,” Gert whispered to Ev. “We’ll handle it.”

In the back of the plane, as she pulled her seat belt tight around her, Carla turned to Jason. “I passed those two coming out of the ladies’ clothing store at the hotel when I was going in. I heard the salesgirl say they’re in charge of a tour group. Maybe when we land we can catch up with them and ask them where we should go for lunch. If they lead people on tours, they must know, right, honey?”

“Right. I just want to make sure we return to the airport in time to catch the plane back. We cut this too close.”

“You worry too much.”

“Usually with good reason.” Jason closed his eyes and fell fast asleep.

19

O n the way back to the hotel, Regan’s cell phone rang. It was her mother calling.

“How are things?” Regan asked Nora.

“Still snowy. Our poor deceased skier’s relatives are all at the hotel tearing up the joint. They’ve got cabin fever. The streets are still impassable, so the funeral has been postponed indefinitely. I think the family is spending all their time at the hotel bar having a little reunion. They’re now convinced that old Ernest arranged the weather and is sending a message to them to get out and ski. But none of them are listening.”

“You should put on your snowshoes and go over and take notes. I’m sure you’d get some interesting material for a new book.”

“No doubt I would. It’s a small hotel, and rumor is that they’ve already run out of gin.”

“Nothing like a good snowstorm.” Regan laughed as she gazed through her sunglasses at the clear blue sky.

“What’s going on in sunny Hawaii?” Nora asked.

Regan looked out the window of the cab at the beach in the distance. “Well, Mom, I’m on the job again.”

“What?”

“A hotel employee drowned yesterday. Her body washed ashore early in the morning. The police think it was an accident, but the hotel manager isn’t so sure. And she was wearing a royal shell lei that had been stolen from a museum here over thirty years ago. The manager asked me to check things out.”

“That’s terrible. What did she do at the hotel?”

“She wrote and took pictures for their newsletter. Apparently she wanted to start her own gossip paper. She moved here from New York just a few months ago. She had written for several different publications back there.”

“Oh,” Nora said as she turned up the heat in the kitchen. “What’s her name?”

“Dorinda Dawes.”

“Dorinda Dawes!”

“Yes. Do you know her?”

“Regan, she interviewed me about twenty years ago. I’ll never forget that name. I really got burned by her.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was young and aggressive and had the ability to get you to say things you normally wouldn’t. I guess that’s what a good interviewer does. Up until then I had never talked about the time when Dad and I were on our honeymoon and I got into serious trouble out in the water. We were down in the Caribbean. I was in the ocean and started getting pulled under. I waved to Dad on the beach. He waved back. I waved again. Finally the lifeguard realized I was in trouble. He rushed into the water and saved me. Dad didn’t realize I needed help.”

“He thought you were just being friendly.”

“Regan!”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“For some reason I started telling her the story. It didn’t seem like a big deal. We had been talking for a couple of hours, and this was just before she left the house. It ended up being the headline of her story. ‘MY HUSBAND ALMOST LET ME DROWN,’ LAMENTED FAMED MYSTERY WRITER NORA REGAN REILLY.”

“I don’t remember that,” Regan said.

“You were about ten years old. It was during the summer. I think you were away at camp.”

“The article must have made Dad really upset.”

“Not as upset as I was. All his friends teased him that he was looking for more business. It ended up being a funny story that our friends would tell at cocktail parties, though when it first came out, we weren’t laughing. But, Regan, I find it hard to believe Dorinda drowned. The way she got me to open up about that story was because she admitted to me she was afraid of the water. She said she’d been at the beach right before a hurricane when she was a kid, got knocked over by a big wave, and pulled under. She told me that she hated going in the ocean from that day on, but she loved swimming in pools.”

“She hated going in the ocean?” Regan repeated.

“According to what she told me that day. She said she never told anyone that story because it made her feel weak and vulnerable. The discussion started because she flattered me that a scene in one of my books where someone drowned was so real that it gave her chills.”

“Then Will might be right. This wasn’t an accident.”

“It’s hard to say. She could have been just trying to soften me up to say something stupid, which I did, but she was so convincing. Be careful, Regan. If she wasn’t acting, the Dorinda Dawes I met all those years ago made it clear that she would never even dip her toes in the ocean alone, day or night. I wonder what happened.”

“That’s what I’m working on.”

“And what was she doing with a lei that was stolen even before I met her?”

“I’m working on that, too.”

“Where’s Kit?”

“I think she’s on the beach with the new guy.”

Nora sighed. “I wish you were there with Jack.”

“Believe me, Mom, so do I. I’ll talk to you later.” When Regan hung up the phone, she tried to absorb what her mother had just told her. One thing seemed certain: More than twenty years ago Dorinda was already writing stories that embarrassed people. Had she done that here and antagonized someone who wanted revenge? Regan was anxious to go back and read everything that Dorinda had written since she’d stepped off the plane in Hawaii three months ago.

20

W ill shut the door of his office. He dreaded making the call, but he knew he had no choice. He poured himself another cup of coffee. It had that muddy look that comes from being on the burner so long a lot of the water has literally dried up. But he didn’t care. He could barely taste a thing.

He sat at his desk, pulled the phone closer to him, and buzzed his secretary. “Janet, hold my calls.”

“Whatever.”

Whatever is right, he thought to himself as he dialed his sister’s number in Orlando. Will’s parents had gone there for Christmas and were staying for the month of January, taking side trips to other Florida cities to see their retired friends. He steeled himself for their reaction to what he had to tell them. The last thing he needed was for his parents to give him a hard time.

The owners of the hotel were already on his case. They were warning him that the “Be a Princess” Ball had better be a huge success, critically and financially. They weren’t happy that an employee had drowned and then washed up on their beach. “It’s all image,” they told him. “We want the Waikiki Waters to have a happy, positive image. People come from all over the world to enjoy themselves at our fine establishment. They don’t want to come to a place marred by scandal and overflowing toilets!”

Will swallowed as his sister, Tracy, picked up the phone.

“Tracy, it’s Will,” he began, attempting to sound cheery. He hated having to call his parents at her house. She’d be hanging on to every word of their conversation with him, sticking her nose into his business. She wouldn’t miss one word despite the fact her three kids were screaming in the background.

“Hi, Will,” Tracy answered. “How’s it going out there? Any toilets overflow today?”

“No, Trace,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I need to speak to Mom and Dad.” Some ohana I have, he thought-ohana being the Hawaiian word for family.

“Hello, Will!” his mother chirped as she picked up the extension. “Bingsley!” she yelled to her husband. “Pick up the phone in the bedroom. Will’s on. Are you there, Will?”

“I’m here, Mom.” Will could hear his father’s breathing as he slowly brought the phone to his mouth.

“I’m on, Almetta,” his father grunted. “Hey, big guy. What’s up?”

“Hi, Dad. Trace, would you mind hanging up? I have something to discuss privately with Mom and Dad.” He knew she’d hear about it anyway, but he wanted her off the phone.

The phone clicked in their ears. No more sounds of screaming kids.

“She’s off,” his mother said gaily. “What’s going on, dear?”

“You know that lei you gave me when I moved to Hawaii?”

“My gorgeous shell lei?” his mother asked.

“That would be the one. Where did you get it?”

“Son,” his father said, “you know that we bought it in Hawaii thirty years ago.”

“I know in Hawaii, but where in Hawaii?” Will asked, trying not to sound impatient. “Did you buy it at a store or at a stand on the street?”

“I remember that day very clearly,” his mother declared triumphantly. “Do you remember, Bingsley? We bought the bathing suits for the kids and then we saw that boy at the airport who sold us the lei. You wanted to buy a special present for me, but we hadn’t found anything. Then right before we got on the plane to go home, I spotted that lei the boy was trying to sell! It was so beautiful. I have always loved and treasured it, and I just know it brought me luck. That’s why I gave it to you, Will, so you would have good luck in Hawaii. If you had to move so far away, I wanted you to have something that would remind you of me every day. You promised to always keep it hanging on your living room wall.”

Oh, brother, Will thought. He shook his head and sighed, careful to put his hand over the phone. Once his mother got on a roll, that was it.

“I remember that boy who sold it to us was only a teenager. He had a round baby face, a mop of unruly black hair, and was wearing shorts and sandals. Dear, do you remember he had the longest second toes we had ever seen?”

“I didn’t get a look at them,” Bingsley answered his wife. “I was too busy forking over two hundred bucks for the lei. That was a small fortune in those days, you know.”

“Well, I told you about it many times afterward,” Almetta continued. “I was just so mesmerized by his second toes. They looked as if they had practically been pulled out of their sockets. You know women have operations to shorten their toes now. They get them shaved so they can fit into crazy-shaped designer shoes with pointy toes and spike heels. Isn’t that awful? But let me tell you, that boy was a perfect candidate for that operation.”

Will calculated in his head as his mother babbled on. That kid must be in his mid to late forties now, so conceivably there is someone on this planet pushing fifty who had long second toes and who sold the stolen lei to his parents thirty years ago.

“…I tell you I don’t think they make leis like that anymore,” his mother continued. “It is absolutely magnificent. Now what about it, dear?”

“Why did you call us in Florida to ask us about the lei?” his father asked skeptically.

“Well…I just found out that that lei was stolen from the Seashell Museum thirty years ago. It had belonged to a woman who was queen of Hawaii in the late 1800s. The kid sold you stolen property.”

“I told you I always felt like a queen when I wore that lei!” his mother exclaimed. “Now it must really be worth something. It’s so wonderful we have it in our family! And we came by it honestly!”

“I don’t have it anymore.”

“What?” his mother cried. “What did you do with it? I gave it to you for good luck!”

Some good luck, Will thought. He cleared his throat. “I lent the lei to a woman who worked at the hotel and was in charge of our newsletter. She wanted to photograph the lei and use the picture in the newsletter she was going to write covering the ‘Be a Princess’ Ball we’re having this weekend. I gave it to her the other night right before she left the hotel. The next morning her body washed ashore. She had the lei around her neck. The police identified it as the royal lei stolen from the museum thirty years ago.”

“My word!” his mother cried.

“I haven’t told anybody that it was our lei. I don’t want them to think I had anything to do with the woman’s death. And I don’t want them to think that my parents stole the lei when they were on vacation in Hawaii.”

“Of course we didn’t!” his mother said indignantly. “You should never have let it out of your possession. That was a family heirloom!”

I wish you had never let it out of your possession, Will thought. “I just wanted to let you know what is going on. And to find out where you bought the lei in the first place.”

“Where could that boy at the airport be now?” his mother asked.

“Good question. He’s not a boy anymore. Maybe he’s getting his toes operated on at this very moment. I may need a sworn statement from you both explaining exactly where and when you got the lei.”

“Maybe we should go out there. Bingsley, what do you think?”

“Mom, that’s not necessary.”

Suddenly Tracy’s kids could be heard screaming in the background.

“That’s a great idea,” Bingsley said with abrupt enthusiasm. “I’m logging on to the computer. I’m sure I can find us a bargain flight. Son, we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“That ball sounds like such fun,” his mother cried. “Can you get us tickets?”

Will put his head on his desk. His wife was coming home tonight. They hadn’t seen each other in almost two weeks. Wait till she found out that Almetta and Bingsley were on the way. And why they were coming to Hawaii.

Why me? he thought. Why me?

21

A s Gert and Ev’s flight approached Kona on the Big Island, passengers were craning their necks to look down at the acres and acres of dark, rugged lava stretching endlessly below. It resembled the surface of the moon.

“I can’t believe this is Hawaii,” a woman in the front row complained to the flight attendant seated nearby. “That’s not paradise. It looks like a bunch of burned-out rocks. Where are the pineapples and palm trees, for goodness’ sake?”

“You’ll see them soon,” the flight attendant assured her. “You know, you are about to land on the island that is home to the world’s largest active volcano. That’s why it looks barren. But there are beautiful beaches, huge ranches, waterfalls, and pineapple plantations down there as well. And the Big Island gets bigger all the time.”

“How’s that?’ the woman scowled.

“The volcano’s eruptions have added twenty thousand acres of land to the island since 1983. Part of the airport sits atop a lava flow.”

“Terrific.”

“I promise you, you’ll love it. Soon you’ll want to live here forever.”

Gert turned to Ev and smiled. “There’s always one wet blanket in every bunch.”

“Don’t you know it,” Ev replied. “At least one. We’re stuck with two wet blankets in our group. Did you see the way Bob and Betsy sat there like stones this morning at breakfast? And they’re writing a chapter on exciting relationships! That’s like you and me writing about life as a supermodel.”

Gert laughed, emitting a little snort. “And that Joy is a little troublemaker. That makes three wet blankets. She even had the nerve to ask if we give spending money to the group. She should be lucky she has that little butt of hers in Hawaii. Remember when we were her age?”

“I certainly do. The only time we got out of Hudville was to drive to the State Fair. Whoop-dee-doo.”

“Now we’re making up for it, sister.”

“We are-all because we were sweet and kind to our neighbor.”

“What luck he moved in next door.”

“What luck his wife died.”

The plane swerved from side to side and then bumped across the pavement a few times before it settled into a smooth glide down the runway. The airport was small, and the passengers disembarked down a set of portable stairs and onto the tarmac. Palm trees swayed in the breeze, and the luggage carousel was just steps away. Tour guides greeted groups of arriving passengers with welcome leis. Gert and Ev strode through the crowd and made their way to the curb where a young man in a beat-up all-terrain vehicle was waiting for them.

Carla and Jason hurried to catch up with the twins. “Ladies,” Carla called to them as Gert opened the front door of the Jeep.

Impatiently, Gert turned to the couple. “Yes?” she asked, trying to sound civil.

“I heard you two were in charge of a tour group at the hotel. We wondered if maybe you knew of a good place to have lunch over here. It’s a special day for us. We just got engaged last night.” Carla proudly held our her hand to show off her engagement ring.

Gert briefly glanced at Carla’s hand and was clearly unimpressed. “We don’t know of any lunch places,” Gert answered abruptly without complimenting Carla’s treasure. “We’re visiting friends.”

“Oh, okay,” Carla said dejectedly, stealing a glance at the guy in the front seat. He hardly looked their type. He was young, sweaty, and had on old work clothes. The twins got in, slammed the doors shut, and the Jeep pulled away. “It doesn’t look to me like they’re going to high tea,” she commented, staring at the departing vehicle.

“No, it doesn’t.” Jason took her hand. “Forget them. Let’s go rent a car.”

“Okay,” Carla agreed, silently wondering where the twins had gone. She thought their actions seemed suspicious. Why couldn’t they have asked their friend about a restaurant? It wasn’t every day you got engaged. Something was up with those two not very nice people. They were downright rude for no reason. And worst of all, they didn’t tell her what a gorgeous ring Jason and his mother had so carefully picked out for her. The woman had actually been dismissive of the one piece of jewelry Carla had been waiting for her whole life! What an insult! Carla’s blood started to boil.

And after someone insulted Carla, she wasn’t the type to let it go. Ever. Grudge was her middle name.

22

H e stared at the picture of Dorinda Dawes and read the story of her death. He remembered everything about the night he broke into the museum and stole all those seashells. He had the Queen’s lei around his neck when the cops chased him into the alley. That was almost the end for him. But when Dorinda Dawes wore that lei around her neck, it was the end for her.

Thank God he wasn’t caught that night thirty years ago. It had been close. Why can’t I resist a dare? he asked himself.

Sometimes he wished he’d been born with a larger capacity for coping with boredom. He envied people who were content to do the same thing over and over again.

“Till I’m blue in the face,” as his grandmother used to say. “I cook and clean till I’m blue in the face, and I’m still tickled pink that God gave me two hands.”

Granny was some character, he thought, laughing to himself. He didn’t get to see her that much growing up. He was an army brat. His family was always moving around. It was hard to make friends because his family never stayed in one place. And once kids got a look at his toes, they would torment him. He reacted by causing trouble and developing a tough exterior. He was eight years old when he started to steal kids’ lunchboxes.

His family had spent the year in Hawaii when he was sixteen. What a year. His father was stationed at Fort de Russy, right on the beach in Waikiki. He was enrolled at the local high school but spent most of his time surfing and hanging around the hotel beaches, stealing whatever he could from unsuspecting tourists.

How did the lei that I sold to a couple about to get on an airplane to the mainland end up back here with Dorinda Dawes? he wondered.

I have to see that lei again, he thought. Now that it’s back at the museum, maybe I should return to the scene of the crime. Lucky they didn’t have face recognition software thirty years ago. But I had a pair of panty hose over my head. Maybe they have panty hose recognition software. “Look for the union label,” he hummed as he turned the page of the newspaper.

I would love to hold the lei in my hands, put it around my neck again. Relive those thrilling moments when I outran the cops. Maybe I can steal it a second time. The thought was irresistible. They’re making such a big deal about auctioning off the other royal shell lei at the “Be a Princess” Ball. If this lei disappears again, it’ll really be a story!

He wondered if they had upgraded their security at the Seashell Museum. It wasn’t exactly the Louvre, but they loved their leis.

I’m aching for trouble, he realized. And I’ve been like this since I was a little kid. He remembered the time he’d volunteered to make a milk shake for his sister’s friend. He poured Ivory liquid into the blender. The shake came out so frothy that the girl took a big sip. The look on her face as she went running outside the house and spitting it out in the bushes was priceless. He’d never laughed so hard in his life. And while she was outside, he stole some change from her purse.

The start of my problems, he thought. From that day on he got such a thrill out of stealing and screwing things up for people. Why can’t I just laugh at stupid jokes and movies that the rest of the world thinks are hilarious? I need more than that to keep me excited. I need to always be on the move. It’s why I exercise like a maniac, he told himself as he turned the page of the newspaper.

The van stopped in front of a beautiful surfing beach. Francie tapped him on the shoulder. “Ned! Look at those waves! They’re monstrous!”

He smiled. “I told you.”

“They look so dangerous!” Francie cried. “Are you sure you want to surf there?”

Ned turned to her. “Don’t you see, Francie? That’s what makes it fun.”

23

W hen Regan got back to the hotel, she stopped in Will’s office. Janet, his sturdy-looking secretary, was on the phone. Keeper of the gate, Regan dubbed her. Janet’s glasses were resting at the tip of her nose, and she had that take-charge air of someone who had never experienced a nervous moment in their life. Nor a second of self-doubt. Regan guessed that she was probably in her fifties.

“Is Will here?” Regan asked quietly. Turned out it wasn’t necessary to be discreet.

“No. I think he’s a little stressed. He went out a little while ago,” Janet practically bellowed. “Listen, hon,” she yelled into the phone, “I’ve got to go.” She dropped the phone into the receiver, looked up at Regan, and lowered her voice. “I know Will wants you to look into things around here.”

“He told you?”

“Of course. If you can’t trust your secretary…” Her voice trailed off. Temporarily. “Between what happened to Dorinda and all the problems since the renovation, Will has a full plate, I’m telling you that. The poor guy is a wreck.” She picked a manila envelope off her desk and handed it to Regan. “In there are all the newsletters Dorinda wrote, the magazine article, and the list of problems and complaints since the renovation.”

“Thanks.”

“Excuse me, Janet,” a male’s voice said.

Regan turned. It was a guy in a bellman’s uniform. She smiled at him.

“Is Will around?” the bellman asked politely, with a big smile.

“He’ll be back in a little while,” Janet answered.

“I’ll catch him later then.” He smiled again, waved, and exited the room, reminding Regan of a guy she knew in college who never stopped smiling. You could tell him your house was burning down, but nothing could wipe the grin off his face.

Janet gestured to the departing figure. “Will is Glenn’s mentor. Will also started as a bellman, and for the last year or two he’s been showing that kid the ropes. He thinks the guy will work his way up in this hotel.” She paused. “Regan, you would not believe the morning we’re having. People have been calling like crazy. With all the publicity about the royal lei around Dorinda’s neck and the matching lei being auctioned off, half of Honolulu now wants to come to the ‘Be a Princess’ Ball. We’re squeezing as many tables as we can into the ballroom, but we have to turn people away. Dorinda finally got us some business.”

Regan’s eyebrows raised. “I guess she did.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Janet continued quickly. “I feel bad she died. She was hired when the renovation was finally finished to jazz things up around here with the newsletter. All she did was get on everyone’s nerves. But her death has certainly added spice to the Towers. Now everyone wants a ticket to the ball, and they want the lei that is being auctioned off. They also want to know what’s going to happen to the lei that Dorinda was wearing when she died. If you ask me, people have been watching too many of those crime shows on television.”

“I was just at the Seashell Museum. The owner hasn’t decided whether to auction off the second lei or not.”

“He should,” Janet declared as she fluffed her short red hair with her pencil. “Some sick person would be willing to pay a lot of money for it. At least it’s all going for a good cause.”

“He told me he’ll make the decision at the ball.”

Janet shrugged. “More drama. Who knows? Maybe his big last-minute decision will drum up more excitement that night. I’m sure the auctioneer will milk it for all it’s worth.”

Regan nodded. “He wants to see how much the other lei goes for first.”

“Naturally,” Janet replied in her deadpan voice. “It all comes down to money, doesn’t it, Regan?”

“A lot of things do,” Regan agreed. “Nobody had seen Dorinda with the shell lei before, huh?”

Janet shook her head emphatically. “Nobody. People have been stopping at my desk, which I should rename Grand Central Station, to talk to me about Dorinda. Everyone remembers the floral leis she usually wore that matched the flowers in her hair. She thought she was Carmen Miranda. If you ask me, it got to be a bit much. She was always in costume with the ‘tropical’ outfits she wore. Always had to put on a show. Sometimes I just wanted to tell her to calm down and hang loose-we’re in Hawaii, after all.”

She’s calm now, Regan thought. But I doubt poor Dorinda is resting in peace. It doesn’t seem as if there’s anybody who is too choked up about her passing. “She really hadn’t been here that long,” Regan commented.

“Long enough to make her mark. She started in the middle of October when the renovation was complete and the new Coconut Tower and Ballroom had just opened. Will thought it would be a good idea to start a newsletter for guests. Dorinda applied for the job, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“You said Dorinda got on people’s nerves. Can you give me any examples?”

“Sure. To start, I’ll tell you how she got on my nerves,” Janet pronounced. “Pull up a chair.”

“Yes, thanks,” Regan answered as she obediently grabbed one of the chairs by the door and brought it closer to Janet’s desk. She sat down and fished her notebook out of her purse.

“You going to take notes?” Janet asked.

“If you don’t mind.”

“Be my guest.”

“Thank you. So you were saying…”

“Right. Dorinda. She was a piece of work. Some of the girls who work in the clothing store out there stopped by this morning. Now don’t get me wrong. People are sorry she’s dead. But nobody’s going to miss her too much. For example, she’d breeze in here to see Will and treated me like I was the hired help. I guess I am the hired help, but what the heck was she?”

Regan nodded sympathetically.

“Who knows where she got her attitude?” Janet continued as she shrugged her shoulders. “The girls from the shop were saying that when Dorinda first got here, she acted friendly and asked millions of questions. She got together with them a few times for lunch and drinks. But then she’d break lunch dates at the last minute. And not return phone calls. It was as if she realized they couldn’t do her much good. It seemed to be her pattern with people who worked at the hotel. She plied everyone for gossip and information about life around here and then dropped them when she’d gotten all she could out of them.”

“Do you have any idea about her private life?”

“She was here a lot at night covering the parties and taking pictures. And I know she was always angling to get herself invited to parties and openings around town. I don’t think she had any sort of boyfriend.”

“A waitress in one of the coffee shops told me she was a real flirt.”

“That she was. I saw the way she’d act with Will. She’d breeze past me and then saunter into his office with a big smile. I don’t think he bought into it, but he was stuck. He’d signed a six-month contract with her and wanted to make it work.

“Did Will ever mention anything about firing her?” Regan asked quickly.

“No! But I know Will. He couldn’t have been happy with people’s reaction to Dorinda. He wanted someone to bring people together with the newsletter, not alienate them. I shouldn’t be talking about Will. All I’m saying is yes. Dorinda was a flirt, and she was attractive.”

Interesting, Regan thought. I’ve had the feeling all along that there’s something Will is not telling me. “Did you read the article she wrote for the magazine Spirits in Paradise?”

“No. That reminds me: Now I have to find somebody else to take pictures at the ball.” She jotted down a note on a Post-it on her desk.

Business is business, Regan thought. “Apparently Dorinda walked home every night. Did you know that?”

“Yes. Her apartment is not too far from here, in Waikiki. She took the path along the beach. When it rained, she was always looking for someone to give her a ride. I did once. She barely thanked me. And I live in the opposite direction.”

“I wonder what the story is with her apartment now.”

“Her cousin is on his way here to clean it out.”

“Her cousin is coming here?” Regan repeated.

“Yes. He called after you left before.”

“Where does he live?”

“Venice Beach, California.”

“Oh, really. I live in the Hollywood Hills.”

“Well, he’s flying in today, and Will’s parents will be here in the morning.”

“Will’s parents? He mentioned he was looking forward to his wife coming back this weekend.”

“He was and she is. That’s the problem. She’s been gone since before Christmas, and when she gets back tonight, she’ll hear all this good news. Like her mother-in-law will be arriving in no time flat. Not that Will’s mom isn’t a nice lady but…”

“I understand,” Regan said quickly.

“I’m glad you do because I don’t think Will’s wife will.” Janet laughed. “Poor guy. He has so much going on. He’s got to get through this ball. He’s going to put his parents up in a room here.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Regan said.

“You wouldn’t believe what a good idea it is. Of course that means I’ll be dealing with Mama Brown. And I have to work this weekend at the ball.”

“Things will be busy,” Regan commented.

“They sure will.”

“Janet, did you ever hear that Dorinda was afraid of the ocean?”

“No. But as they said on the news, she did like to sit on the jetty at night. It can be so beautiful and peaceful sitting in the moonlight. I told her more than once to be careful out there by herself. She never listened. She said it calmed her down after a busy day. The currents are strong. Maybe she slipped and fell.”

“Maybe,” Regan agreed as she jotted down a few notes. “Janet, you see a lot of what goes on around here.”

“I hear it, too. I feel like the president of the complaint department.”

“Do you know of anyone who would have wanted to hurt Dorinda?”

“Plenty of people felt like strangling her, but not killing her. I think you know what I mean.”

“I suppose I do. Dorinda started working here just after the renovation was complete, and Will said that the problems around the hotel started soon after that. I know she’s not here to defend herself, but I wonder if she could have had anything to do with the trouble at the hotel.”

“Hard to say,” Janet responded. “We hired a lot of new employees at that time.”

“Could I get a list of those people?”

“Sure. I’ll have that ready for you in a few hours. I really don’t think Dorinda could have been behind the trouble. She would have had to sneak around, and she couldn’t help but make her presence known. When Dorinda was in a room, you knew it. Some of the problems we had originated in the kitchen. Some in the public bathrooms. Some in the guest rooms. Whoever is behind it must have a master key. I suppose Dorinda could have gotten one. It’ll be interesting to see if anything happens now that she’s gone.”

The phone on Janet’s desk rang. She rolled her eyes. “I bet this is about the ball.”

“I’ll get out of your way.” Regan closed her notebook and stood. “I’ll take a look at everything in here.” The manila envelope was in her hands.

“I’ll be in all day. Give me a call or stop by if you need anything.”

“Thanks very much,” Regan said and walked out of the office and into the bustling open-air reception area. A poster for the Princess Ball was propped on an easel next to the concierge desk. SOLD OUT! was written across the top. ACCEPTING NAMES FOR THE WAITING LIST.

Oh, Dorinda, Regan thought. Maybe not the way you wanted, but you certainly have made your mark.

24

B ob and Betsy were in their room sitting together at the desk where their laptop computer was open and running. Handwritten notes were scattered all over the bed. A pot of room service coffee was at their side, and Bob had just proposed a way to do research for their chapter of the relationship book.

“I don’t know,” Betsy hesitated. “It doesn’t seem that exciting to go out in the world and pretend to be Bonnie and Clyde.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Not at all.”

Bob took off his glasses and used the bottom of his T-shirt to give them a good cleaning. It was something he did many times a day, more out of habit than the fact that his glasses were fogged. “I think it would help our marriage.”

Betsy looked aghast. “What’s wrong with our marriage?”

There was a pause. “Nothing,” he muttered. “Nothing that can’t be fixed with a little old-fashioned excitement.”

“By acting like we’re criminals?”

“Yes. If we’re writing a chapter about how to keep a relationship exciting, then we should offer a smorgasbord of ideas to keep the fires burning. Pretending to be devilish is one of the choices.”

“That’s what Halloween is for,” Betsy replied as her face developed a pinched look. She was beginning to think there was something seriously wrong with her husband. Ever since he’d gotten into a chat with that book publisher who wandered into town looking for a couple from Hudville to write a chapter for his book, Bob had started to go nuts. The publisher had traveled the country looking for couples from all different backgrounds to share the ways they kept excitement in their relationship. Bob had leaped at the chance for him and Betsy to represent the rainy states. The only problem was, he was not exciting in the least. Neither was she, but that was his fault. He’d made her boring.

As Betsy looked down and folded her hands, she thought longingly of her college boyfriend Roger. Where was he now? If only they had ended up together. If only he hadn’t met that other girl who got her hooks into him during a semester at sea. Betsy couldn’t go because she got seasick. Roger said he’d go for five months and get in enough cruising for a lifetime. Huh! I should have gone and taken Dramamine, Betsy reflected. Her mother had tried to comfort her by singing “Que Sera Sera,” but it only made things worse. Then she’d heard that Roger and Nautical Nancy had had their reception on a boat.

If I’d married Roger, she mused, I wouldn’t be living in depressing, soggy Hudville. If I were vacationing with Roger in Hawaii, we’d be out on the beach with a mai tai in our hands instead of sitting in the hotel room thinking about ridiculous ways to liven up other people’s lives. Roger and I would have paid for the trip ourselves instead of having to win a lottery to get here. If only…

How had she stood thirty years with boring Bob? It was impossible to believe. He’d had the same menial job for twenty-eight years in a store that sold drain pipes. Business was brisk in Hudville. The book publisher had spotted the store when he was driving through town, and the rest, as they say, was history.

Now Bob put his hand on her thigh. Inwardly she cringed.

“Itsy Bitsy?” he whispered softly, using his nickname for her.

“What?”

“It’s important that we write this chapter.”

“Why?”

“It’ll make our lives more exciting. When the book is published, we’ll travel with the other couples in the book. It could change our lives. But most important, it’s a gift for our children.”

“Our children?” Betsy’s voice went up an octave. “How is it a gift for our children?”

“Our children are wonderful, but they’re a little dull. I don’t know how they got that way. I just don’t understand it. They’ll need this guidebook. They are both married, thank God, but if they don’t liven up, I’m afraid their spouses will leave them.”

He must be on drugs, Betsy thought. That’s the only answer. “Jeffrey and Celeste are wonderful people,” she cried indignantly.

“You never hear a peep out of them.”

“Yes, but they have deep thoughts.”

“Deep thoughts don’t get you anywhere unless you share them.” Bob patted her thigh again. “Now, I was thinking. Little Joy says there are problems going on around the hotel. Why don’t we walk around the hotel today and pretend we’re the criminals? Let’s just see what trouble we might be able to find.”

“Around the hotel?”

“Yes. The hotel is having problems. If we think like criminals, maybe we’ll figure out what’s going on. It’s called role-playing. Who knows? We could end up being heroes. It’s just a little game.”

At this point Betsy felt it was useless to protest. “All right,” she relented. “But only if we start at the bar.”

25

R egan passed the sign for the Princess Ball, with Princess Kaiulani dressed in native garb smiling down on the hotel guests, then went over to the house phone and dialed her room. There was no answer. She then pulled out her cell phone and called Kit’s cell. Kit answered after three rings.

“Regan, I’m out on a boat!”

“Where?”

“In back of the hotel. I met some people after breakfast who were going out for a quick sail. I’ll be back in a little while. Steve is coming over at lunchtime. Let’s meet in the bar by the big pool at noon.”

“Sounds good.”

Regan walked out to the smallest of the Waters’ five pools and took a seat in the shade of a large striped umbrella. Elvis was crooning “Blue Hawaii” from poolside speakers. Regan pulled out the newsletters from the envelope Janet had given her and retrieved the notebook from her purse.

Well, it was clear enough that Dorinda Dawes could make enemies. Regan couldn’t believe that even her mother had an unpleasant experience with her. Regan clicked her pen and started jotting down a few notes.

Dorinda had started working at the hotel in mid October. The problems at the hotel had started around that time. I’m sure Dorinda would have loved to expose the culprit on the front page of the newsletter, Regan thought. She unfolded a sheet of legal paper that was behind the newsletters. It was a handwritten list of the hotel’s problems.

Regan’s eyes scanned the offenses. Leaky pipes. Toilets overflowing caused by foreign objects not meant to be flushed, such as full tubes of suntan lotion. Oversalting of food. Complaints from guests that small convenience items were missing from their rooms: toothpaste, body lotion, the coffeemaker. A faucet turned on in an empty room that caused a flood. Jars of bugs opened and left in guests’ rooms. Complaints from numerous guests that one of their sandals or sneakers went missing from their room.

A thief who steals one shoe. Regan pondered what that meant, if anything. The Waikiki Waters had a phantom who was clearly out to annoy.

How does someone get away with this for three months without being discovered? Regan wondered. Maybe there’s more than one phantom. This could be the work of several people.

A tan young waitress in a short, flowered shift approached Regan. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“An iced tea, please.”

“Certainly.”

Could Dorinda Dawes have stumbled onto something? Regan wondered. Did someone murder her because she found out who was causing trouble at the hotel? It was certainly possible.

The big Princess Ball was tomorrow night. If someone was trying to tarnish the reputation of the hotel, the Princess Ball was a perfect target. With all the press that would be there, as well as more than five hundred people from all over Hawaii, anything negative that happened would be written about, discussed, and rehashed for days.

She picked up the Waikiki Waters newsletter that had been published in early January, the last one Dorinda had worked on. Pictures of parties held at the hotel in the month of December filled the pages. The men looked great, but the pictures of most of the women were very unflattering. Everything from wide-open mouths to messy hair to clothing somehow out of place. One photo in particular caught Regan’s eye. A woman was laughing with her head thrown back. The camera seemed to have been pointed up her nose. She was standing next to Will. Regan read the name below.

It was Kim, Will’s wife.

The newsletter had been printed when Will was on vacation, Regan realized. Dorinda’s photo captions included descriptions like “only twice divorced,” “recently slim,” and “planning marriage number four.” She glanced through the rest of the newsletters, and they all seemed fairly tame-obviously Will’s influence.

Oh, Dorinda, Regan thought. It does seem that you had a talent for striking a nerve-a lot of nerves. But did you get someone upset enough to kill you?

Every instinct told Regan that the answer was yes. But who? And what did the shell lei around Dorinda’s neck signify?

26

J azzy awoke in one of the downstairs guest rooms at Steve’s house. It was ten-thirty. She and Steve had stayed up until nearly four o’clock shooting the breeze. She got out of bed, wrapped herself in a luxurious white terrycloth bathrobe, and went into the spacious marble bathroom that was bigger than many people’s bedrooms.

First she brushed her teeth with the toothbrush she now left in residence at Steve’s house, and then splashed water on her face. “That helps,” she murmured as she patted her face dry with an Egyptian cotton towel. Staring at herself in the mirror, she again analyzed her cute, almost tomboyish reflection. She knew that guys didn’t feel threatened by her and were comfortable having her around. Work it, baby, she told herself.

Her cell phone rang in the bedroom. She hurried over and checked the caller ID. It was her employer, Claude Mott.

“Good morning!” she answered.

“Where are you?” Claude asked. Jazzy could picture Claude with his wispy goatee and head of thinning gray and black hair. He was slight in stature but had been a powerhouse at buying and selling companies. Now he wanted to stretch the left side of his brain by designing Hawaiian shirts, bathing suits, and muumuus. His first line would debut in the gift bags at the “Be a Princess” Ball, the ball that Claude Mott Enterprises had helped to underwrite.

“I’m at Steve’s house. I stayed here last night, and today I’m going over to the Waikiki Waters to do some work on the gift bags. How’s everything in San Francisco?”

“It’s a business trip. Business is business is business. Deals, deals, deals. That’s why I have my house in Hawaii, so I can get away from it all and design my Hawaiian clothing.”

“I know, Claude, I know.”

“You know, I know, we know. As we speak it becomes apparent to me that you have not yet read this morning’s papers.”

“What do you mean?”

“I spoke to Aaron. He’s at the house. He told me that there’s an article today about the dead woman that focuses on the royal shell lei around her neck. I hope this doesn’t mean that people will get disturbed and not want to wear my clothes with the same beautiful shell lei design.”

“That won’t happen, Claude,” Jazzy assured him. “The chairman of the ‘Be a Princess’ Ball committee called me last night to report that all this attention has helped ticket sales.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“What else are you putting in the gift bags?” he asked in a grumpy tone.

“A bunch of junk so that your items will be the big treat.”

“What kind of junk?”

“A key ring with a miniature plastic palm tree, pineapple soap that smells like ammonia, and a small bag of macadamia nuts that will have people running to the dentist. Believe me, your Hawaiian shirts and muumuus will stand out.”

“Good. That’s good. Because you know, Jazzy, I think that’s where my true genius lies.”

“I agree, Claude. I am doing my best to make sure everyone in Hawaii takes notice of Claude’s Clothes. The shell lei you drew for the fabric is so beautiful, so intricate.”

“Well, how many days did I go to that Seashell Museum to study the royal lei they’re auctioning off? How many? You think that idiot Jimmy would have trusted me with the lei. I could have taken it home and done an even better replication. But no.”

“After the robbery all those years ago, I guess he was afraid to let it go.”

“He’s not a good businessman.”

“I don’t think many people would accuse him of that.”

“I should say not. If I showed up at a meeting with bare feet, I don’t think people would want to do business with me.”

“Claude,” Jazzy began in her most comforting tone, “the ‘Be a Princess’ Ball will be a huge success for us. You will get the attention you deserve.”

“I hope so. I’m flying in tonight. Will you be there to pick me up at the airport?”

“Of course.”

“Did you get me a room at the Waikiki Waters for the weekend? I want to be there and make sure my clothes are in those bags.”

“I booked you a suite.”

“What would I do without you?” Claude wondered aloud.

“I don’t know,” Jazzy answered.

After she hung up the phone, Jazzy went upstairs where Steve was reading the sports section of the paper and sipping coffee.

“Where are the guys?” she asked as she helped herself to a cup of delicious Kona coffee.

“They went out to the beach.”

“You didn’t go?”

“No. I’m going to spend the day with Kit at the hotel.”

“That’s where I’m heading. Can I grab a ride with you?”

“Sure. I have to be there at lunchtime.”

“Perfect. We can all have lunch together,” Jazzy said breezily.

Steve looked up from the paper. “That should work.” At least I hope it will, he thought. He liked Kit and was hoping that they could spend some time alone today. Her friend Regan was around but didn’t seem like the type to get in the way. Not like Jazzy.

“So,” Jazzy cooed as she took her first sip of coffee. “You seem to like this Kit. Maybe you should bid for the princess lei for her.”

“I don’t know.” Steve handed her the paper with the article about Dorinda Dawes. “These leis must have a curse on them. What is it they say about lava from the Big Island? If you take a piece of it home with you, you’re in for trouble. Something tells me it’s the same story with the two royal leis. They originally belonged to a queen who was forced to abdicate her throne and a princess who died young. Who would want them?”

“Well, don’t spread that word around,” Jazzy replied a little testily. “Claude will have a fit. He wants everyone to love those leis. It’s the signature of his fabric.”

“And we don’t want to upset Claude,” Steve muttered with a tinge of sarcasm.

“No.” Jazzy laughed. “We certainly don’t.”

27

R egan and Kit hoisted themselves onto two of the stools at the hotel’s outdoor bar and ordered lemonade. Fliers for the hotel’s hula classes were piled on the bar. Kit had her wet hair pulled back and smelled of suntan lotion.

“It was fun out there, Regan. I wish you had been with me.”

“It sounds like fun. I’ll go for a swim later in the afternoon. Who were you with?”

“I went for a walk on the beach and ended up talking to some people who were going out for a quick sail on the hotel catamaran. They invited me, and I thought why not? Everyone is so friendly around here.”

“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to talk to strangers?” Regan said with a laugh.

“If I didn’t talk to strangers, my social life would be the pits.” Kit looked around, then lowered her voice. “But there are two strangers over there whom I’d be wary of talking to. That couple is staring at us.”

Regan glanced over at the middle-aged man and woman a few seats down from them. He was graying and thin. She was, too. In an odd way they looked alike-like couples who had been together for years. It also helped that they both had on black oversized sunglasses and matching hats in a jungle camouflage print. Where in the world did they get those? Regan wondered. The woman caught Regan’s eye and raised her glass.

“Cheers,” she toasted.

“Cheers,” Regan responded in kind.

“Where are you gals from?” the man asked.

“Los Angeles and Connecticut,” Regan answered. “And you?”

“A place where it rains a lot.” The man laughed.

That might explain the hats, Regan mused.

“Are you gals having fun?” the man continued.

I hate being called a “gal,” Regan thought. But she smiled gamely and said, “How can you not have a good time here? What’s not to like?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “We’re with a tour group. Sometimes the others get on my nerves. We’re spending a lot of time alone.” She took a gulp from the martini glass in front of her.

That’s strong stuff for this time of day, Regan thought. And under this hot sun.

The woman put down her martini glass. “I’m Betsy, and this is my husband, Bob.”

Regan noticed that ever so briefly Bob looked at Betsy with an annoyed expression. What’s that about? she wondered. “I’m Regan, and this is my friend Kit.”

Regan could tell that Kit had no interest in talking to these people. Her mind was on Steve. She couldn’t blame her. And these two looked as if they wanted to chat.

“What do you do for a living?” Bob asked Regan.

Here we go, Regan thought. The question she didn’t always feel comfortable answering. And now that she was on the job, she definitely didn’t want to tell the truth. “Consulting,” she answered. It sounded vague, and people usually didn’t pry. It was often a term used by someone who was out of a job. “And you?”

“We’re writing about how to keep the excitement in your relationship,” Bob boasted.

I guess it’s by wearing matching hats, Regan decided. “Oh,” she answered. “How interesting.”

“You must be in a relationship,” Betsy said. “I can see you’re wearing a beautiful engagement ring. Where is your fiancé?”

They’re jewel thieves, Regan thought wryly. She knew the game plan of couples who cozy up to people at bars, ply them with liquor, and then rip them off. “My fiancé is in New York,” Regan answered then changed the subject: “Are you going to the Princess Ball?”

“Those tickets are expensive,” Bob noted. “I kind of doubt it. The leaders of our tour group are cheapskates. We’re on an all-expenses-paid vacation, and the ball isn’t part of the package.”

“Now they’re sold out,” Regan informed them.

“I guess we have no choice then,” Bob said with a laugh.

“They’re accepting names for a waiting list,” Regan offered.

Kit poked Regan in the ribs. “Regan,” Kit whispered. “Steve is coming. Look who’s with him. I don’t believe it.”

Regan turned and spotted Steve and Jazzy walking around the pool and heading toward them. Jazzy started to wave.

“How does she do it?” Regan asked.

“I wish I knew,” Kit answered.

“Remember,” Regan cautioned Kit, “not a word about my checking things out for Will.”

“My lips are sealed,” Kit promised.

Regan turned to Betsy and Bob as she and Kit got up from the bar. “Nice talking to you.”

“Hope to see you gals again,” Bob said with a wave of his martini glass.

“Hi, girls,” Jazzy cooed as she and Steve approached. “I have so much to do today with packing the gift bags for the ball, talking to the manager of the hotel’s secretary to make sure everything is in place, and who knows what else. But Steve invited me to join you for lunch. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Kit answered without much conviction.

They secured an outside table for four that had a large umbrella and was also shaded by a large banyan tree. Kids were splashing in the pool, and the smell of suntan lotion was in the air. The beach spread out endlessly in front of them, and the sun was directly overhead. It was high noon in Hawaii, and people were relaxed and enjoying themselves.

It was hard for Regan to believe that the East Coast was still caught in the grip of a blizzard. People there are hunkering down in their long underwear while we’re sitting here in bathing suits and summer clothes. Jazzy had on a sundress that would work at a cocktail party, and it looked a lot like the dress she was wearing last night. Regan had the feeling that short low-cut flower print dresses were her uniform of choice.

Regan glanced at Steve’s handsome profile. I hope he turns out to be a nice guy, she thought. Though it’s a little suspect that he thinks Jazzy is good company. And he did seem terribly impatient with that girl at the bar last night.

They ordered drinks and sandwiches from a waitress wearing white shorts, a pink top, and a lei made from pink carnations and white plumeria.

“It feels good to sit,” Jazzy announced. “This is going to be a busy day!”

“How did you get involved with the ball?” Regan asked.

“My boss is very charitable. He’s helping to underwrite the ball.”

“How generous of him.”

“And he’s donating Hawaiian shirts and muumuus that he designed for the gift bags.”

“He’s a designer?” Kit asked.

“He’s just getting started with his line of Hawaiian wear.”

“Is he coming to the ball?” Regan asked.

“Of course. I’ve organized a couple of tables for him.”

“Where does he sell his clothes?” Regan asked.

“Well, as I said, he’s just getting started,” Jazzy replied in a tone one might use correcting a child. “He hopes the ball will attract publicity for his line, Claude’s Clothes.” She shrugged. “We’ll see. He’s a very successful man, so if it doesn’t work out, I’m sure he’ll be on to the next venture.”

“Of course he will,” Regan answered, trying not to sound too sarcastic.

Over lunch the conversation was light. Steve admitted he didn’t want to be completely retired and that he was looking for new investments. How about Claude’s Clothes? Regan wanted to ask but refrained. Steve intended to spend half the year in Hawaii and then have a second home somewhere else. He just wasn’t sure where yet.

A nice way to live, Regan thought. But what about Jazzy? Surely she wouldn’t be happy to house-sit forever-not after she had been a lawyer in New York.

When the check came, Regan was relieved. She was eager to get up to the room and make a few phone calls but told the group she was heading to the spa. Steve insisted on paying for lunch, which Jazzy seemed to expect. The group disbanded with Kit and Steve heading down to the beach alone. Jazzy made a beeline for Will’s office. I’ll stay away from there for now, Regan decided. She walked back to the room and spotted Betsy and Bob down the hall. They had just emerged from the employee supply room.

What are those two up to? she wondered.

“Hey, Regan!” Bob called to her. “We’re on this hallway, too. They never seem to give us enough towels no matter how much we complain.” He laughed. “So we took matters into our own hands.” He held up several towels that they’d obviously taken from the unguarded room.

“You can never have enough towels,” Regan agreed as she quickly opened the door to her hotel room and gratefully slipped inside. What a morning, she thought. Now she wanted to call the man Dorinda had interviewed for Spirits in Paradise. Then she’d take a walk around the hotel. She also wanted to find Will and tell him that she’d like to meet Dorinda’s cousin. Who knows what she might find out from him?

Regan sat down on her bed and pulled the cell phone from her purse. “First things first,” she said to herself as she dialed Jack’s number. She hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to him yesterday. This morning he had been in a meeting when she called, and she told him she’d call back later. When he answered the phone, he said, “Finally!”

“Hi!”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t talk this morning. How’s it going out there in paradise?”

“Fine. I’m actually working for a living out here. You know, a lot of people would love to work in Hawaii, and I got a job without trying.”

“What?”

“I know Mike Darnell told you a female employee drowned here at the beach in front of the hotel. The manager thinks she may have been murdered. And strange things have been happening at the hotel. He wants me to see what I can find out.”

“Where’s Kit?”

“On the beach with the new guy.”

“Oh, boy. It sounds as if she doesn’t need you.”

“I’m glad she’s having a good time. And now I’m occupied.”

“Did you speak to Mike about the manager’s suspicions?”

“No. He joined us for drinks last night. I wasn’t hired until Kit and I came back to the hotel and the manager asked if we’d join him for a drink.”

“How did he know you were a private investigator?”

“Kit told him earlier in the evening when we ran into him in the lobby.”

“Kit doesn’t waste time, does she?”

Regan smiled. “Not lately. Anyway, according to Mike the police believe that the woman drowned. There were no signs of struggle. But, get this: the woman was from New York and had interviewed my mother years ago. She turned out to be a piece of goods. She burned my mother with the article she wrote about her.”

“Maybe Nora arranged the hit.”

“Very funny, Jack.” Regan laughed. “I’m telling my mother you said that.”

“She won’t mind. She thinks I’m going to be a wonderful son-in-law.”

“I know she does. According to her, you’re capable of doing no wrong.”

“Your mother has good taste,” Jack pronounced with a laugh. “But seriously, Regan, why does the manager think she was murdered? He must have some good reason.”

“That’s the $64,000 question. All he said was that when she was leaving the other night, she told him she was going straight home.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“There’s got to be more to his story.”

“I know. I think I’m going to have to talk to him again.”

In his office, Jack shook his head. “I guess it’s why I love you, Regan. You do manage to find yourself in these situations more often than not. I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it at least a thousand times more: Be careful, would you please?”

Regan thought of Jimmy standing over her this morning. It was uncomfortably close. Then that weird couple with the camouflage hats admiring her ring. “I’ll be fine, Jack,” she insisted. “Besides, I don’t like to sit in the sun all day. I’ll take a swim later, but this gives me something to do.”

“I’d prefer you with a sunburn.”

Regan laughed. But she had to admit to herself that things at the Waikiki Waters were a little “off.” And probably destined to get worse.

28

E ven though the waves were great and the scenery magnificent-with the mountains serving as a backdrop and the cloudless blue sky, turquoise ocean, and white sand beach-Ned could barely concentrate on his surfing. He had taken Artie to a cove where the waves were smaller than out on the open sea. Ned demonstrated how to paddle out, place your hands on either side of the board, and jump to your feet. They practiced on the sand, and then Artie went out by himself, eager to catch a wave. All Ned could think about was the fact that the lei he had stolen years ago was back at the Seashell Museum. How was it possible? What happened to that couple who bought the lei from him at the airport?

As Ned paddled through the water on top of his board, he thought about the story he’d heard of a kid who threw a bottle in the ocean with a note stuffed inside asking whoever found it to get in contact. How many years did it take before the bottle finally washed ashore? At least twenty years, Ned remembered. Lucky the kid’s parents were still living at the address in the bottle-not like his parents who moved so much they never once finished unpacking their boxes. They schlepped them from house to house to house. When Ned’s dad finally retired and they moved to a condo in Maine, they ended up throwing out most of the stuff they’d carted around for years. It made Ned crazy.

If any of Ned’s old classmates had ever tried to find him, it would have been an impossible task. But that was the way Ned liked it. He didn’t want anyone from his childhood to come knocking at his door. Keep the past in the past, he often thought.

But the lei. When he sold it to the people at the airport, he was sure he would never see it again, and that was fine with him. The couple was on their way to God knows where. He remembered that the wife kept calling the husband by some weird name. What was it again? I can’t possibly expect to remember, he thought, but it was unusual, and it made him laugh at the time. And now the lei was back in Hawaii. Back at the museum. And he was back after having moved away with his family all those years ago. After Ned separated from his wife, he wanted to get as far away from her as possible. So he moved from Pennsylvania to Hawaii. What a coincidence that both he and the shell lei had found their way back to paradise. It must mean something, he thought. I’ve got to see the lei again.

“Hey, Artie,” he yelled, “that’s it!” Ned was amazed to see that Artie actually got up on the board and was riding a wave. He even looked happy. On the shore, Francie was cheering. Ned was relieved that she had opted against surfing. It was difficult enough to teach one person to surf, and after reading that newspaper article, Ned had a lot on his mind. But he was glad Francie was along. She could watch him show off on the board. This is what he craved-attention. People listening to him. People who didn’t think he was a geek.

Artie had on a wet suit, but Ned thought they were for wimps. The Pacific Ocean felt good on his body. All he wore besides his bathing suit were rubber shoes. He told the others that the broken shells in the water could be fierce when you’re trying to get in or out and that he had a bad cut on the bottom of one foot. He did a song and dance about how coral cuts could lead to serious infections. Of course he really wore the shoes to cover up those stupid toes of his.

When he thought about it, he couldn’t believe there was ever a time in his life when he wore sandals. As a matter of fact, he realized, the last time he had worn sandals was in Hawaii all those years ago. First that lady whose husband bought the lei couldn’t take her eyes off his feet. It was as if she was in shock. Later that night he got in a fight at a bar with some drunken freak who made fun of his toes. After that he vowed he’d never let them be exposed again. Tough work for an athlete who loved water sports. Somehow he managed.

I look cool in these seaweed-colored shoes, he thought. It’s all in the attitude. He tried to teach that to the kids he worked with at the hotel-especially the ones with no natural athletic ability. If I didn’t have such a taste for crime, I could have been a really swell guy.

He steadied himself and got up on the board as a wave was coming in. He stood and balanced himself, riding the wave and feeling the thrill. He could feel his endorphins kicking in as his surfboard glided through the water. It was an exhilarating feeling.

But it wasn’t the same high as stealing.

He was laughing when the ride ended, and he and Artie together carried their boards to the shore.

“That was great!” Francie cried. “I should try it again one of these days!”

“I have to admit it was fun,” Artie said as he caught his breath.

“I’m getting hungry. Why don’t we go back and grab a late lunch?” Ned suggested.

“Then we can hit the beach,” Francie suggested.

“Sure,” Ned agreed, but he had no intention of going to the beach again this afternoon. He had business to take care of at the Seashell Museum.

29

O n a black sand beach north of the Kona airport, Jason and Carla walked hand in hand, only letting go of each other to pick up coral shells. They had already filled two shopping bags.

“Will we always be this happy?” Carla asked Jason as they put their shopping bags down, walked to the water’s edge, and let the ocean swirl around their feet.

“Hope so.” He paused. “But the odds are against us.”

Jason laughed as Carla poked him in the ribs. “You’re not very romantic.”

“I was just kidding! And I am romantic. I was waiting for a moonlit night to propose. I should have checked the Farmer’s Almanac, and then I would have known it wasn’t a good idea. My best intentions just got me in trouble.”

Carla kissed him on the cheek. “I still can’t believe I was walking on that beach at the same time Dorinda Dawes was floating around in the water.”

“You gave me a good scare. I wake up at three in the morning, and you’re gone.”

“It was scary on the beach at that hour. Something out there struck me as weird, but I was a little tipsy so I don’t remember what it was. I really want to think of it so I can help that girl Regan.”

“What do you mean weird?” Jason asked.

“Like I saw something strange. Not a murder weapon or anything, but something was out of place.”

“You usually forget nothing, especially what I do wrong.”

Carla laughed. “I know, but we’d been drinking piña coladas by the pool all afternoon and had wine at dinner. And then I grabbed a couple of beers from the mini bar before I went on the beach. I’m surprised you didn’t smell it on my breath.”

“What did you do with the bottles?”

“I threw them into the ocean when I was finished.”

“Litterbug.”

“I made a wish on each one.”

“What did you wish?”

“Well, one wish came true. You finally proposed.”

“What was your second wish?”

“That it doesn’t rain on the big day. Or else my hair will frizz, and I’ll go nuts.”

“Some people say rain brings good luck.”

Carla smiled at him sweetly. “With you I don’t need any more luck. I’m not greedy.”

Jason hugged her. He wouldn’t let himself think too much about the fact that this girl he loved was walking around on the beach when, quite possibly, a murder was being committed-all because it was cloudy and he hadn’t proposed. There’s no question, he thought, that Regan Reilly is asking questions because they don’t think it was a simple drowning. “I think we have enough of these shells to write out the Gettysburg Address,” he finally said. “Let’s get in the car and find a good spot to declare our love for each other to anyone who bothers to read Hawaiian graffiti.”

“Are you kidding? It’s a tourist attraction. Everyone on the highway to and from the airport will read it. And people flying above can look down and see it.”

“Only if you’re flying in a plane six feet off the ground or you happen to own a pair of supersonic spy glasses.” He picked up the shopping bags off the sand. “Let’s go.”

They ambled up to their rental car that was parked on a cliff overlooking the turquoise water and marveled that there was no one else on the beach. The setting was gorgeous, complete with a waterfall and coconut palm trees. Everything was postcard perfect except the dent on the left back door of the car. Tiny traces of yellow paint lingered. The rental agent had presented the damaged vehicle to them without batting an eye. Jason immediately called on his bargaining skills and received a ten percent discount.

“More money to spend on our honeymoon,” Carla had trilled. “You are such a smart businessman.”

The sun was blazing, and inside the car it was hot. Jason turned on the air conditioning which promptly blew even hotter air in their faces. “Come on, baby,” he urged. “Let’s cool down.”

Carla pulled down the visor and inspected herself in the mirror. She was starting to sweat, and her mascara was running. “After we do the shells, let’s go swimming to cool off and then find a place for lunch. My stomach is grumbling.”

“You want to eat now? It’ll take energy to arrange the shells.”

“Good idea.”

They pulled out onto the highway and drove north. On their left the Pacific Ocean stretched out endlessly. On their right were coffee-covered mountain slopes.

“This is awesome,” Carla said. “I read somewhere that the Hawaiian Islands are the most isolated island chain in the world.”

“I read the same magazine. It’s back in the room. It also said that the Big Island is the size of the state of Connecticut. Too bad we don’t have time to drive down to the big volcano.”

“The most active volcano in the world.”

“I know. Like I told you, I read that magazine.”

“When did you read it?”

“When you took two hours to get ready last night.”

“Oh. Well, maybe we should come back to the Big Island on our honeymoon. It’s rural and romantic. There are rain forests to explore, and we can horseback ride, kayak, hike, snorkel, swim…”

“Maybe.”

Carla settled back in her seat. She looked out the window as Jason turned on the radio. A song was ending, and the DJ started to speak: “Well, that was a song for lovers. And for all you lovers out there, have you tried eating at the Shanty Shanty Shack? It’s right on the beach in Kona, and it’s a great place to gaze in each other’s eyes at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Turn off the highway at-.”

“Look!” Carla exclaimed. “It’s a sign for the Shanty Shanty Shack! Make a left two hundred feet ahead. Let’s try it! It was meant to be.”

Jason shrugged. “Why not?” He put on the blinker, and they turned off the highway at the next sign for the restaurant, which had a big arrow pointing toward the beach. They went down a poorly paved narrow road that curved around a grove of banana trees and ended in a little cove with a small parking lot. The restaurant was perched on stilts overlooking the water. It was connected to a sweet, quaint hotel.

“What a discovery! Now this is Hawaii!” Carla exclaimed. “I’d love to stay here. You feel so close to nature!”

“Let’s go inside and check out the food,” Jason said practically.

They got out of the car and stepped onto the restaurant’s rickety wooden deck. The water lapped below. “Smell that salty air!” Carla urged. “It smells not only like salt but flowers, too!”

“I smell it, I smell it. Let’s keep moving. I’m hungry.”

“Oh, look, Jason!” Carla pointed to a treehouse in the distance. In front of it was a big sign with large yellow lettering that read PRIVATE PROPERTY-KEEP OUT! AND I MEAN IT!

“Jason, can you stand it!” Carla laughed. “I’d love to meet whoever lives there.”

“Yeah, well I don’t think they want to meet you.” Jason held open the restaurant door for his fiancée. They stepped inside. The dark wood walls, large vases of tropical plants obviously cut from the lush gardens outside, and sweet cool air immediately soothed customers-not that many people in Hawaii needed soothing, but plenty of tourists who hadn’t yet unwound did. It was already late for lunch, and the restaurant was quiet. There were three people sitting at a corner table.

Carla’s happy-go-lucky mood quickly evaporated. “I knew it!” Carla whispered to Jason. “Look over there! They’re not eating at a friend’s house! Those two rotten ladies lied to us!”

Gert and Ev looked up from their seafood salads. Ev inhaled sharply when she saw the couple they had ditched at the airport. Gert turned to her and calmly put her hand on her sister’s. “I love this hotel. It’s charming, but there aren’t enough activities for our group.”

Ev looked blank, then smiled. They couldn’t have heard what we were talking about, she realized. They just walked in a second ago. “You’re absolutely right, Gert. We’ll never book any rooms here for our group. But they do make a mean seafood salad,” she exclaimed in a loud voice.

For a moment the young man at their table looked at them quizzically, but he had learned not to ask any questions. Boy oh boy would he be glad when this project was over.

30

W hen Regan hung up the phone with Jack, she once again looked quickly through the newsletters. There were ten of them, the last one with all the unflattering pictures and questionable captions published just two weeks ago. Regan couldn’t find anything that would make someone want to murder Dorinda Dawes. Of course some would argue that merely publishing bad pictures could be grounds for murder, especially lousy pictures of Hollywood stars. But there weren’t any stars in the newsletters. If they were staying at the hotel, they would have avoided the camera.

Regan looked again at the picture of Will and his wife, Kim. She was very pretty and had a dark tan, long, straight black hair that almost reached her waist, and large brown eyes. Regan wondered if she was Hawaiian. She also wondered if she had seen this photo yet. Probably not if she’s been away for several weeks. So Kim is coming back to her mother-in-law, an embarrassing photo in the newsletter from her husband’s place of employment, and a husband who’s afraid he may lose his job. Swell. Welcome home, honey.

Regan was anxious to talk to Will, but not while Jazzy was around. She picked up the Spirits in Paradise magazine, which she had only gotten a chance to glance at before lunch. Dorinda had profiled a guy named Boone Kettle, a cowboy from Montana who had moved to Hawaii a year ago. Regan turned to the article. A picture of fifty-two-year-old Boone, handsome and rugged and perched atop a horse, filled the page. He had a job leading horseback riding tours on a cattle ranch on the Big Island.

The piece was several pages long. It talked about how the winters in Montana had gotten on Boone’s nerves. He came to Hawaii on vacation and decided that this was where he wanted to live. It was tough, but he managed to get a job at a cattle ranch and was now celebrating his first anniversary in Hawaii. The worst thing about moving, he said, was leaving his horse. But his nephew brought the animal to live on his farm, and Boone planned to visit Misty at least once a year.

Regan dug out the interisland directory from the drawer of the night table and looked up the number of the ranch where Boone worked. She pulled out her cell phone and made the call, hoping she might catch him in. The girl who answered told Regan to hold on, that he had just gotten back from a ride. “Boooooone!” she screamed. “Booooooone! Phooooooonnnne!”

For a moment Regan held the phone away from her ear, afraid that if Boone didn’t hurry, the girl would scream again. Then she could hear the girl saying, “I have no idea who it is.”

“Aloha, Boone Kettle here,” he said, his voice sounding gruff.

Regan considered how incongruous it sounded for this Montana cowboy to say “aloha.” She brushed that thought aside. “Hello, Boone. My name is Regan Reilly, and I’m doing some work for the Waikiki Waters Resort where Dorinda Dawes worked writing their newsletter-”

“It’s such a dang shame about her,” Boone interrupted. “I couldn’t believe it when I read the story in the paper. But I do think she had a thirst for danger. She was a bronco that needed to be broken.”

“What do you mean?” Regan asked.

“Who did you say you are?” Boone inquired.

“Regan Reilly. I’m a private investigator working for the manager of the Waikiki Waters Resort. I wanted to know if maybe she talked to you about what was going on in her life-”

“I get it. You mean if there was anything she said that would indicate someone might want to off her.”

“Something like that. What makes you think she had a thirst for danger?”

“She told me she felt a little frustrated. When she was hired by the manager, she thought it was to liven things up at the Waikiki Waters. But as it turned out, if you’re writing a newsletter about a hotel and their guests, everything in it has to be hunky-dory. The hotel doesn’t want gossipy things written about it, and the guests don’t want ‘spicy’ tidbits written about them. So Dorinda’s hands were tied, and she was a little bored. She was even a little worried that they might not want to continue the newsletter when her contract was up. I know she was worried about making enough money to live in Oahu. She said she was going to be writing one profile a month for the magazine but was intent on starting her own gossip sheet-something with the word ‘Oahu’ in the title. Truth be told, she hinted that she wanted to get into something a little juicier.”

“Juicier?” Regan prodded.

“Something with a little more bite. She wanted to find out what’s going on behind all the fancy hotels and the private homes. She felt the newsletters were puff pieces. The profile she did of me was good. Did you read it?”

“Yes. It was great.”

“Yup. Good picture, huh?”

“Very good picture, yes. Boone, did you spend much time with Dorinda?”

“She came up here three times. I took her out on a horseback ride. She was a pistol. Whew-ee! She wanted me to take her on the most difficult trails. I obliged. We had fun and then went to dinner.”

“What did she talk about at dinner?”

“You know, I think she was lonely because she never stopped talking about herself. Maybe that’s because we’d been talking about me all day. She told me a little bit about her life back in New York. Oh, I remember one thing she talked about that might be of interest. She said that she was trying to decide who would be the subject of her next profile, and there was a guy who kept bugging her to write about him but she didn’t want to.”

“What did he do?”

“Something with Hawaiian clothing.”

“What about Hawaiian clothing?” Regan asked quickly.

“He was designing them or something. But Dorinda felt he was too much of a capitalist. He had a lot of money, so it wasn’t like he had to succeed at a second career in Hawaii. He never has to work again if he doesn’t want to. So she didn’t think he was a good candidate for the Spirits in Paradise. Neither did the editor of the magazine. But they liked old Boone!”

Regan couldn’t believe it. Could Boone be talking about Jazzy’s boss?

“It sounds like Dorinda opened up to you,” Regan commented.

“I’m a good listener. I guess it’s from all those years sitting around the campfire.”

“Uh-huh.” Regan quickly wound up the conversation. She promised to get up to the ranch for a little “giddyap” when she visited the Big Island, secured Boone’s home and cell numbers, and hung up. She immediately dialed Will’s direct line.

“Is Jazzy there?” she asked.

“No.”

“I’m coming over. I really need to talk to you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Will said wearily. “I really need to talk to you.”

31

J oy had rented a beach chair, slathered on suntan lotion, and parked herself on the sand close to the lifeguard stand, but not too close. Zeke was up there keeping an eye on the masses, and she enjoyed stealing a glance at him every few minutes. She knew that he was checking her out, too, but she pretended to be engrossed in her magazine.

I can’t wait until tonight, she thought. Maybe we’ll really click, and he’ll ask me to move in with him. Then I can get out of Hudville. Now that I’ve won this vacation, there’s nothing left worth staying for in that puddle-ridden boondocks. Since you can’t win this junket twice, I’m never going back to any of those stupid Praise the Rain meetings. Joy couldn’t believe that her parents didn’t mind living there. Her mother believed Hudville was the perfect place to live if you wanted to avoid wrinkled skin. Better than Botox, she always told Joy. Joy had other ideas.

Bob and Betsy, wearing slacks and camouflage hats, walked past Joy down to the water’s edge. Those two are so weird, she thought. Didn’t they say they had to stay in today and write about their exciting relationship?

What a tour group. Joy shook her head. It’s unbelievable. We have almost nothing in common. Gert and Ev leading Artie, Francie, Bob, Betsy, and me. The twins are the only ones who get to go to Hawaii every three months. What a waste. They never take advantage of what Hawaii has to offer. All they do is prance around the hotel in their muumuus and chaperone our meals. Tonight I’ll have dinner with them and then take off. That’s the only way to eat for free. They’ve been such penny-pinchers, encouraging us to lay off the appetizers. They even invited us to their room one night for cheese and crackers and cheap wine so they wouldn’t have to pay for the expensive tropical cocktails that came from the blender. I don’t think that’s what our benefactor had in mind.

And that Francie. She drives me nuts asking about my love life every night. I don’t want to talk about it with her. She’s older than my mother! She confessed to me last night that she had a crush on Ned. Well, at least they’re around the same age.

Joy watched as Betsy and Bob kicked water at each other. Bob looked as if he was really getting into it, almost in a mean way. I hope he falls over backward, Joy thought. She looked up at Zeke who had told her last night that he was a people person. Maybe I should go over and talk to them and let Zeke see that I love people, too. Joy hoisted herself out of the beach chair and, knowing full well that Zeke was watching, did her best sexy strut over to the water. Bob and Betsy had their backs to her, facing the sea. They didn’t realize she was right behind them.

Joy could barely overhear what they were saying. Are they calling each other Bonnie and Clyde? she wondered. These two are definitely from the twilight zone.

“Hi.” Joy announced her presence.

The two of them spun around. “Joy! What are you doing here?”

“I was sitting on the beach and saw you walk down to the water. What are you two doing here? You’re not exactly dressed for the occasion.”

“We’re taking a break from our writing,” Bob explained. “We wanted to get a little fresh air.”

“Too bad you have to work when you’re on vacation,” Joy opined.

You’re not kidding, Betsy thought.

“This book is going to help a lot of people,” Bob told Joy. “You are young and can’t imagine that a relationship could get dull. But believe me, it can. We all need help.”

Joy stole a quick glance at Zeke. He looked awesome. There was no way things would ever get dull with him. She was sure of that.

“Things can really get dull. Dull as dishwater,” Betsy agreed wholeheartedly. “Have you talked to your mother since you’ve been here?”

“Yes.”

“How is she?”

“Fine. She said it’s raining.”

“So what else is new?” Betsy sighed.

“What else is new is right,” Joy echoed. I don’t want to get stuck in Hudville and end up like these two, she thought. Their brains are waterlogged. “Well, I’m going to sit and relax. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Are we having drinks in Gert and Ev’s room?” Bob asked.

“I hope not!” Joy cried.

“We have only a couple of days left. I thought I heard them saying something about using up the wine they bought.”

“That jug was so huge, it’ll never be used up. It’s the least expensive swill you can get. I think they’re cheating us.”

“You do?” Betsy and Bob asked in unison.

“I do. A friend of mine who went on this trip three years ago got spending money and said his group was free to do as they pleased except for breakfast and a few dinners. With us, if you don’t eat with the twins and if you don’t want to pay for your own meals, you starve.”

“Don’t you like eating with the group?” Bob asked, sounding hurt.

“It’s all right. But I wish I had more money to go off and do my own thing. I’m finishing school, so I don’t have extra cash.”

Bob pulled out his wallet, much to Betsy’s horror. He produced three crisp twenty-dollar bills and offered them to Joy. “Go out and have some fun tonight.”

“Nooooo. Thank you, but no.”

“I insist.”

Joy hesitated. Briefly. “Well, okay.” Joy took the twenties, said her thanks, and walked up to the lifeguard stand.

“Hey there,” Zeke greeted her. He was twirling the cord of his whistle around his finger.

“Hey. I’m buying drinks tonight,” she cooed.

“Did that strange guy just give you money?”

“Yeah. He’s from Hudville. He’s an old guy, but he likes to flirt. He gave me cash because our tour directors are so cheap.”

“Someone from the last Hudville group told me that.”

“Who?” Joy asked quickly, afraid it was some girl she didn’t know about.

“A guy I got friendly with when a bunch of us went surfing out here. He mentioned that it was great to win the trip, but the group had nicknamed those two women the Scrimp Sisters.”

“You’re kidding! Why didn’t you tell me that last night?”

“I wasn’t thinking about the Scrimp Sisters last night,” Zeke said softly. “I was only thinking about you. I’ll see you later.” He turned and stared out at the water, his whistle twirling and untwirling around his finger.

Joy walked on air back to her seat. Zeke really really seemed to care. She sat down, lay back, and closed her eyes. She made a decision. She was going to get everyone in the group together for a little powwow. Everyone except Gert and Ev. It wasn’t right if they weren’t getting the trip they deserved. Sal Hawkins had wanted them all to enjoy these trips. He wanted them to bring sunshine back to Hudville. Who can bring back sunshine when you feel as if you just spent a week in budget boot camp?

Joy was taking a workshop at college about being assertive and getting involved in causes. I’ll make this my first cause, she decided. Joy versus the Scrimp Sisters. She couldn’t possibly have guessed how dangerous it could be for anyone to go up against that dynamic duo.

32

“O kay, Will,” Regan began. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“How about at the beginning? You know what they say?”

“No, what?”

“The truth shall set you free.”

“I wish.”

“Give it a shot.”

They were in Will’s office, the door was shut, and Janet had once again been ordered to hold all calls. If possible, Will looked worse than he had a couple of hours ago. He folded his hands as if in prayer. He is about to confess something, Regan thought.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he started to explain. “But things could look suspicious.”

Something made Regan want to cover her ears.

“The night Dorinda Dawes died”-Will hesitated, looked at Regan as though he’d seen a ghost, and continued-“she came into my office just before she left the hotel. It was late because she’d been taking pictures at the parties and restaurants and bars. With the ball coming up, all the talk had been about the lei that was going to be auctioned off. I had told her I had an unusual shell lei at home that my mother and father bought in Hawaii years ago. She asked if she could take a picture of it for the newsletter she’d be writing about the ball. I brought the lei into work and gave it to her, then she left. That’s the last time I saw her alive.”

“The lei she was wearing when she was found dead was yours?” Regan asked in astonishment.

“Indeed.”

“Your parents bought it in Hawaii how many years ago?”

“Thirty.”

“It was stolen thirty years ago.”

“I’m well aware of that now, but I swear I had no idea…” Will stared off into the distance, unable to complete his thought.

“Where did your parents buy it?”

“At the airport from a kid who had long second toes.”

“What?”

“I spoke to my mother on the phone this morning. She said the kid was wearing sandals, and his second toes were much longer than his big toes. It was all she could focus on.”

“A lot of people have unusual feet,” Regan commented. “It’s not the worst affliction in the world. It’s better than having bunions. They’re painful.”

“Yes, but my mother said his were unusually long.”

“That kid, if he’s still alive, is now thirty years older. Couldn’t she remember anything else about him?”

“No. Wherever he is, I’m sure he looks different. But dollars to doughnuts his feet are still identifiable.”

“So that kid may be the one who stole the lei?”

“Yup.” Will sighed heavily. “Don’t you see, Regan? I can’t tell anyone that lei was in my family for the last thirty years. It makes me look bad for a lot of reasons.”

“It sure does.”

“Regan!”

“Sorry, Will. Although it might look suspicious that your parents had a lei that had been stolen from a museum, I’m sure they had no idea the lei was stolen when they bought it.”

“Of course they didn’t! They bought the lei, boarded the plane, and never looked back. My mother wore it at all the big occasions at home. She said it made her feel like a queen.”

“She must have ESP.”

“She’s got something,” Will agreed wearily. “But, Regan, this could all look very bad for me. Dorinda was wearing my lei-a stolen, valuable lei-when she died. That could place me at the scene of the crime.”

“The police believe she accidentally drowned. Whether she was wearing your lei or not, they don’t believe a crime was committed. But, Will, you are the one who wanted me to start investigating. Why? If you’re worried about the finger being pointed at you, why didn’t you just let the whole thing go?”

Will inhaled deeply. “When I handed the lei over to Dorinda, I immediately got a bad feeling. The lei had meant so much to my mother. I realized that it was probably not a good idea. Dorinda told me she was going straight home. I asked her if she could take the picture right away, and I’d pick up the lei on my way home. I still had a bit more work to do.”

“What did she say?”

“That she’d go straight to her apartment. She was going to put the lei on a piece of dark felt on her kitchen table, set up the proper lighting, and take the picture. She suggested we have a glass of wine when I picked it up. I didn’t want any part of that. I knew it wouldn’t look good with my wife away. But I didn’t want to leave the lei with her overnight, and once I had handed it to her, I felt foolish asking for it back. So I said maybe a quick nightcap. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I let her keep the lei overnight.”

Oh, boy, Regan thought.

“Dorinda was a bit of a flirt, and my wife couldn’t stand her.”

“Did your wife see the newsletter with her picture?”

“Not yet. In any case, I drove over to Dorinda’s apartment after work and rang the bell. It was late, and she didn’t answer. I waited in my car and tried to call her a few times, but she didn’t pick up. Finally I went home. The next morning I come to work and her body washes ashore. And she’s wearing that lei around her neck. I gave the lei to her in a special pouch and asked her to please be careful with it. The minute she walked out of here, she must have put the lei around her neck. But, Regan”-Will paused-“Dorinda intended to go straight home. She liked my company and knew I was coming over. She wouldn’t have stopped to sit on the jetty that night. And now I keep thinking that someone might have seen me sitting outside her apartment on the night she died.”

Regan sat there thoughtfully. “From everything I’ve heard about Dorinda, she was impulsive. Maybe she did just decide to go out on the jetty for a few minutes.”

Will shook his head. “I just don’t believe it. Someone must have lured her down to the water.”

“She was wearing the lei. Maybe she decided to show it off to someone on the beach.”

“Could be. But to whom? And did that person intentionally hurt her? Will he or she harm someone else? Regan, I don’t want anyone to find out about my involvement in all this. But I do believe that someone killed Dorinda and should pay for it.”

“You know, Will, in years past, supposedly she burned a lot of people. Even my mother was not happy with an article Dorinda wrote about her years ago. And that last newsletter…”

Will put his head in his hands.

“I heard that some guy who wanted Dorinda to interview him was bugging her. He designs Hawaiian clothing. Do you know if that’s Jazzy’s boss?” Regan asked.

“Yes. Claude Mott. He wants to bring attention to his line of clothing and was pushing to get Dorinda to profile him, but she told me she didn’t want to do it.”

“Jazzy never mentioned this to me when she was telling me what a terrible person Dorinda was.”

“That’s Jazzy for you.”

“I think I’d better have a chat with her. I’d also love to talk to Claude.”

“He’ll be here tonight in one of our best suites.”

“Good. Another thing: I met a couple out at the bar at lunchtime. They’re with a tour group from a place where it rains all the time.”

“Oh, yes. The Praise the Rain Club.”

“What?”

Will filled her in on the history of the club and the tours. “They’ve been coming for three years now.”

“I want to keep an eye on this couple. They’re very strange. I caught them coming out of the supplies closet. The guy insisted they were just grabbing some extra towels. But with what you say has been going on around here, I don’t know.”

“It’s the first time that couple has stayed here. They may be strange, but they probably don’t have anything to do with the troubles we’ve been having. But I’ll be glad when that group is gone for good. The two women in charge have been badgering me to lower their room rates. I already have many times. I’ve decided I’m not making any more deals with them. If they want to come back, they’ll have to pay a fair price. I already give them way too much attention and too many perks, and they’re just not worth it.”

Regan smiled. “Especially if their group members are stealing your towels.”

Will chuckled and rubbed his eyes.

“When are your parents arriving?” Regan asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“And your wife?”

“Tonight, thank God. It’ll give me a little time to help her get used to the idea of their being here. And then the lei…”

Regan stood. “I’m going to see if Jazzy is around. I understand Dorinda’s cousin is coming by later. Could you please call me when he gets here? I’d like to talk to him. Maybe he’ll let me take a look at her apartment. There might be something there that will be helpful…”

“Okay.”

“And don’t worry, Will. You’re doing the right thing. I would love to find that kid who sold the lei to your parents.”

“They’ll be here tomorrow. I’m sure my mother will be happy to describe his toes to you.”

Regan smiled. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“I think I inherited ESP from my mother,” Will said, his face very serious. “I know it sounds crazy, but I have a very strong feeling that the person who killed Dorinda and the thief who stole the lei are among us.”

“I’m doing my best to find them,” Regan said as she walked out the door. The storm of the century in New York City would have been a lot easier to handle than this, she thought.

33

W hen Ned, Artie, and Francie returned to the hotel after their surfing expedition, Ned felt as if he was being propelled by a jet engine toward the Seashell Museum. He was desperate to see the lei that he had worn around his neck ever so briefly thirty years ago. And he wanted the lei to be his. He knew it would give him a feeling of power if he stole it again. He also knew that was kind of pathetic. He hadn’t spent ten years in therapy for nothing, but he didn’t care.

It was three o’clock when the van dropped them off at the hotel.

“Shall we get a bite to eat and then go to the beach?” Francie asked.

“I can’t,” Ned replied quickly.

“But I thought you said you were hungry,” Francie protested.

“I am. But I’m going to take a shower and then check in at my boss’s office. He loves you guys, but he might want me to pay attention to some of the other hotel guests. I’ll have a drink with your group later.”

Francie made a face. “Then maybe I’ll go to the spa and see if I can get a lomi lomi massage and a seaweed wrap.”

“I feel as if I just had a seaweed wrap,” Artie commented. “Getting knocked over by a couple of those waves made me feel like I was one with the ocean.”

“But you liked it, right?” Ned asked.

“I suppose,” Artie agreed begrudgingly.

Back to his friendly old self, Ned thought.

The two of them walked to their room, and Ned jumped in the shower. Artie pulled a bottle of chilled water out of the mini bar and went out on the lanai. They had a nice view of the beach, and it was pleasant to sit and relax as the heat of the day and the strength of the sun started to fade. It was as though the world were mellowing out.

But not in the shower. Ned soaped up as fast as he could, rinsed his muscular body, and turned off the faucet. He grabbed a towel and dried off. Back in the room, he pulled a pair of shorts and a shirt from his drawer and quickly dressed. He slipped his feet into a pair of worn Top-Siders, glancing at the pair of sandals he’d bought on a whim in one of the hotel clothing stores. I should make myself wear those, he thought. Who cares what people think of my toes? But not now. He didn’t want to be conscious of his feet at a time like this, even though it would be fitting. The last time he stole the lei was the last day he ever wore sandals. For a brief moment he considered that wearing the sandals might bring him luck.

But he decided against it.

And what am I thinking wearing these Top-Siders? he mused as he kicked them off. I might have to do some running. He picked a pair of socks out of the drawer, sat down on the bed, and put them on. He slid his feet into his sneakers. I could use the PF Flyers I had when I was a kid, he thought with a smile. He always loved their commercials. Kids could run and fly and help people in danger. Ned always thought of the ways he could get into trouble if he could fly. And I blame that on my childhood. I can’t help it. Always being made fun of doesn’t exactly lay the groundwork for a healthy, well-adjusted adult. But I’ve stayed out of trouble these past few years. Now this lei! The thought of it made him move faster.

He dashed over to the terrace door. “See you later,” he called to Artie.

Artie spun around. “Come down to the beach when you’re free. Francie’s going to join me there after her spa treatment.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ned said and waved his hand. He turned, grabbed a baseball cap and his empty knapsack out of the closet, and hurried out of the room before Artie tried to make any more plans. No two ways about it, Artie was a strange agent. His late-night walks on the beach. His constant flexing and unflexing of his hands. His total lack of savoir faire with women. Ned had seen him in the bar trying to make time with a couple of the ladies. No one was interested. When Dorinda Dawes took his picture, he tried to flirt with her. Even though she was a world-class flirt, she moved on quickly. First Bob had hit on her and then Artie. She must have had some opinion of the Lucky Seven. Poor Dorinda. To think we both started working here at the same time.

Ned walked out of the room and called information from his cell phone for the address of the Seashell Museum. He hadn’t been there in a while. He bought a map in the store that sold newspapers, postcards, and travel guides, and pinpointed its location.

In the front of the hotel he jumped in a cab and gave an address several blocks from the museum. He didn’t want any taxi driver saying he had brought a guy from the Waikiki Waters to the museum. They took off, drove for several miles, and finally stopped along a stretch of lonely road in front of the beach.

“This it?” the driver asked.

“Yes.”

“Nothing much around here.”

“I want to take a quiet walk.”

After fifteen minutes of strolling along the sand, the museum was in sight. His pulse racing, Ned remembered the feeling he’d had thirty years ago. He had been a kid; now he was older, but it made no difference. He felt the same excitement, the same pounding in his heart. But everything was quiet. There was no one on the beach, and the museum was set off on its own. He wandered over, approached the steps to the museum, and noticed that off to the side there was a picnic table. A guy with a toga was sitting there facing the westward-moving sun, his back to the table. It looked as if he was meditating. His eyes were closed and his palms outstretched, facing up. Is that the guy who made such a stink about the robbery thirty years ago? Ned had seen him on TV the day after the theft. He seems to be wearing the same outfit, Ned thought.

As Ned got closer he could see the two historic shell leis lying on the table. He was astonished. There they were, just feet away. Do I dare? he wondered.

Of course. How could I not? So close and yet so far. He could always say he was only taking a look.

Ned crept over as quietly as he could. With his index fingers he picked up the leis just as the meditator opened his eyes, smiled contentedly, and started to turn around. Before he knew what hit him, the large man was shoved violently and fell headfirst onto the pavement.

The pain in the meditator’s head was tremendous, but it was only when he pushed himself to his feet, turned around, and saw that the leis were missing that he began to scream. Jimmy’s ungodly howls could be heard for miles.

34

R egan walked around the hotel and spotted Jazzy sipping coffee and going over papers in the coffee shop where Regan had eaten breakfast. She decided to go in and have a little chat with the queen of the gift bags.

“Mind if I join you?” Regan asked.

Jazzy looked up. She had reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose and was looking very efficient. She tossed back her mane of blond hair and urged Regan to sit down. “Things are a little hectic getting ready for the ball. It’s really going to be exciting.”

Regan nodded and ordered a cup of tea from the waitress who had served her breakfast. “You’re still here?” Regan asked.

“Another kid called in sick,” Winnie noted matter-of-factly. “I guess the surf’s pretty good today. Oh, well. If my feet hold out, I’ll be fine. More money for my eventual retirement.”

Regan smiled and turned to Jazzy. “I understand the ball is sold out.”

“It’s crazy and a little strange. People are intrigued by the auction. All the press about Dorinda and the antique lei has sparked a lot of interest in the whole evening.”

“Here you go, honey.” The waitress placed Regan’s tea on the small table. “Drink it in good health.”

“Thanks.” Regan picked up the metal container of milk and poured in a few drops, added a touch of sugar, and stirred.

“How come you’re not down on the beach?” Jazzy asked. “You’re on vacation. Steve and Kit surely wouldn’t mind having you join them.”

“Oh, I know. Steve seems like a nice guy,” Regan answered evasively.

“He is a nice guy. I’d get a little bored being retired at such a young age, though.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, Regan thought. House-sitting on the Big Island for a rich guy isn’t exactly like being part of the labor force.

As if Jazzy could read her thoughts, she continued, “I know I’m no longer working as a big-city lawyer, but that’s okay. I like working for Claude. It’s much less stressful than being an attorney. And getting his Hawaiian clothing business off the ground is really important to us.”

Regan couldn’t help but wonder what the “us” meant. Maybe that explains why Jazzy hadn’t zoned in on Steve. She certainly is an operator. “This whole Dorinda thing,” Regan said, “is so puzzling. I spoke to someone today who had been interviewed by her years ago and said that Dorinda really burned her.”

“Was that your mother?” Jazzy asked coolly.

“My mother?”

“Your name is Regan Reilly,” Jazzy said quickly. “Her name is Nora Regan Reilly. Even though you have dark hair, you look a lot like her.”

“You’re quite a sleuth, Jazzy.”

“And so are you.”

“Dorinda did interview my mother. She didn’t exactly endear herself to her with the article, but my mother actually felt sorry for her.”

Jazzy waved her hand at Regan. “She had her whole journalist act down pat. I’m telling you, she manipulated people. She was talking about interviewing Claude for the magazine Spirits in Paradise. Then she backed off. Then she thought she might. Then she said that she decided he was too rich, that he didn’t need a second career out here because he had enough money to live no matter what happened. She wanted to focus on go-getters who had the courage to leave their safe jobs on the mainland and try to make it in Hawaii. Please! Claude would have been a wonderful interview subject. He had the courage to try something different. Just because he had been successful, it shouldn’t be held against him. And the last thing Claude needs is to be embarrassed if his business flops. After all, doesn’t everyone just love to see someone fail in a new career when they’ve been so very successful at something else?”

Not everyone, Regan thought. She raised her eyebrows and sipped her tea. Well, I guess she answered my question about her boss-and I do think their relationship runs a little deeper than just business. “Did Dorinda ever meet with Claude?”

“We had a big outdoor party at the house at Christmastime and invited her. This was when she said again that she was going to interview Claude. She was so nosy, it was unbelievable. She was snooping around everywhere.” Jazzy laughed. “Inside and out. She was even wandering through our woods, taking pictures. I put glass marbles in Claude’s medicine cabinet because I’d heard how meddling people can be at parties. Well, wouldn’t you know, it was Dorinda who used the bathroom at the end of the hall in the master bedroom. She opened the cabinet, the marbles went rolling, and they broke all over the bathroom floor. I was nearby and got the broom. She claimed she had a headache and was looking for aspirin.”

It sounds like Dorinda and Jazzy were birds of a feather, Regan thought.

“That’s when I knew she was trouble,” Jazzy continued. “You know how sometimes you just get an instant reaction to a person? And it’s often right?”

“I sure do,” Regan said. And my instant reaction to you was hardly positive. What kind of person puts glass marbles in their medicine cabinet that might potentially mortify one of their guests? The same kind of person who will write lousy things about people.

“I mean, she had a stolen lei around her neck. What does that tell you?” Jazzy asked.

“There could be a lot of explanations for that,” Regan answered quietly.

“Which we probably will never hear. She took that secret to her grave.” Jazzy looked down at her paperwork for a moment, then looked back up at Regan. “You and Kit will be at the ball, right?”

“Yes.”

“I told Steve he should bid on the princess’s lei for Kit. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

“I guess it would.”

“He really seems to like her.” Jazzy leaned in toward Regan as though she were about to divulge a big secret. “Let me tell you something: A lot of the ladies on this island are circling around him,” she whispered. “He is a catch with a capital C. I’m surprised some girl hasn’t nabbed him already. It makes me wonder what he’s waiting for. Whoever lands that big fish is going to be one lucky girl.”

Regan smiled. “And if he lands Kit, he’ll be one lucky guy.”

Jazzy threw back her head, laughed, and waved her hand. “Of course he will. In any case, we’ll all have fun tomorrow night. I can’t wait to see how much money that shell lei brings in at the auction. And if they auction off both-wow! This place will be in a frenzy!”

“I’m sure it’ll be interesting,” Regan agreed, wondering if there would be a moment of silence for Dorinda Dawes. Somehow she doubted it.

35

N ed stuffed the leis in his yellow nylon knapsack and ran as fast as he could from the grounds of the Seashell Museum. Everything happened in a blur. He never expected to see the leis sitting right there on the picnic table, and the second he spotted them, Ned knew there was no time to hesitate. He waved down a taxi and asked to be taken into the heart of Waikiki’s shopping district. He didn’t want anyone to trace him back to the Waikiki Waters, just as on the way out.

Luckily the cabdriver seemed oblivious. He was playing loud music and grunted when Ned gave him his destination. In the back of the car Ned’s pulse was racing. He’d given that guy a shove when he started to turn around. Boy, could he scream. You’d think after meditating it would have taken him a minute or two to get so worked up.

Ned got out of the cab on Kalakaua Avenue at the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center in Waikiki and started to walk. He blended in easily with the Japanese and American tourists who were wandering in and out of the stylish shops. It was now four o’clock, and Ned’s mind was racing. What am I going to do with these leis? he wondered. How can I bring them back to the hotel room? What if Artie sees them? I have to hide them somewhere until Artie and the tour group leave. Then I’ll figure out a permanent spot for them.

Ned ducked into a stationery store and bought a box, sexy gift wrap depicting hula girls in action, adhesive tape, and a small pair of scissors. He went out and walked until he found an alley on a side street, which he ducked into and began to wrap his gift.

“How sweet,” mumbled an old guy who walked by.

“You have no idea,” Ned muttered as he secured the final pieces of tape. He put the box in a shopping bag and picked up his knapsack. He had inadvertently placed it in a damp patch of oil on the ground. The side of it was sticky and black. Ned threw it back on the ground, stood, and headed back to the Waikiki Waters.

As he walked down the crowded street, he regretted that he wouldn’t have a chance to really look at the leis until Artie left. He didn’t dare take them out in the room. He couldn’t wait to examine the delicate shells. I’m sure I can find a buyer who will spend a lot on them, he thought.

The reception area of the Waikiki Waters was abuzz: Guests and hotel personnel were discussing the latest Waikiki news bulletin.

“Ned, did you hear what happened?” one of the bellmen asked him. Glenn was a young guy who had been on the job for a couple of years. He had a slightly Stepfordish look. Behind his back employees called him the “Will wannabe.” He was a favorite of Will’s and was clearly being groomed to move up the hotel ladder.

“No,” Ned answered, holding tightly to his shopping bag.

“The royal leis for the Princess ball were stolen from the Seashell Museum. It’s all over the news. Now there’s nothing to auction off at the ball.”

“You’re kidding!” Ned exclaimed. “Poor Will. I know he’s counting on the ball’s being a big success.”

“He’s not a happy camper,” Glenn admitted and shrugged as he glanced down at Ned’s bag. “Wild wrapping paper.”

“Huh?” Ned looked down. “Oh, yes.”

“What have you got in there?” Glenn asked, still smiling.

“A friend of mine asked me to pick up a gag gift for her for a party she’s going to. I told her I’d leave it at the bell desk. She should be by later today to pick it up. Can you take it for me?”

Glenn stared at Ned with his affable, yet slightly vacant look. “Sure. What’s her name?”

“Donna Legatte.”

“I just love gag gifts. What did you get for her?”

This guy is always so nosy and in the middle of everything, Ned thought with irritation. “Just some crazy toys,” he answered offhandedly. “You know, juvenile stuff. It’s her friend’s bachelorette party, and she didn’t have time to shop.” Ned felt as if he was beginning to babble.

Glenn slapped him on the shoulder and grinned knowingly. “I’ll be sure to take good care of your precious package. It sounds like something you don’t want to lose! Oh, here’s a customer.” He took the bag out of Ned’s hands, hurried over to a taxi that had just pulled in, and opened its back door to usher out two arriving guests who were wearing big floral leis.

“Welcome to the Waikiki Waters!” Glenn said cheerily. “We’re so glad to have you stay with us!”

Ned turned on his heel and started to walk past the reception desk. Did I do the right thing? he wondered. Maybe I should have risked bringing the leis to the room. One of the girls at the desk called out to him. “Ned! Will wants to talk to you.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He went behind the desk and through the door to Will’s office.

Janet was at her post. She looked up and pointed with her thumb. “He’s back there.”

Ned walked through Will’s door. Will waved to Ned to sit down, gestured to a chair, and hung up the phone.

“Ned, we’ve got trouble.”

“I heard the leis were stolen.”

“Even worse. My parents will be here tomorrow.”

Ned laughed, relieved that they weren’t going to be discussing the goodies in the bag that was now mixed in with all the suitcases going in and out of the Waikiki Waters hotel.

Will laughed, too. “I can’t believe I’m even making a joke right now.” It felt good for him to let go of at least some of the tension. All hell was breaking loose now that the leis were missing. But Will liked Ned. He seemed like a guy’s guy. “My parents are arriving tomorrow morning. I know they’ll be tired, but I know they won’t stay in their room and rest. I need to keep them busy, or my mother will drive everyone crazy while we’re trying to set up for the ball. Could you take them out on the beach for a couple of hours? Maybe take them for a sail tomorrow afternoon?”

“Sure, Will. No problem.”

“How’s everything with the Mixed Bag Tour group?”

“Okay. I took a couple of them surfing today. You probably want to know that Gert and Ev said they were going hotel shopping to see if they could find better deals.”

Will waved both his hands in disgust. “Those two have been harping at me for the last year for bigger discounts. I’ve had it with them. I even have you sharing a room so they save money.”

Ned rolled his eyes. “I know.”

“You’re a good sport, Ned. I won’t do that to you again. At this point I say let them go someplace else. When they first came here, they spent money and enjoyed themselves. Now those two women are stingy with their group. I think they’re leaving Monday-not a day too soon.”

“The guy I’m sharing a room with is a very strange agent.”

“That bad, huh?”

“And the couple in the group who are writing a chapter of a book on exciting relationships-they are not to be believed. And so dull! The young girl in the group had a few things to say at breakfast today about what’s going on around the hotel.”

“What?” Will asked quickly.

“She heard this place isn’t safe and there’s a rumor Dorinda Dawes may have been murdered.”

“Those kinds of rumors can hurt us very badly. We have had a few problems around the hotel, but we’re doing our best to make sure they don’t happen again. As for Dorinda, the police believe that she drowned. So…” Will stood.

Ned jumped up. “You seem okay about the stolen leis.”

“Very much to the contrary, Ned. If I got my hands on whoever took them, I think I’d strangle him.”

Ned nodded. “I don’t blame you. But who knows? They might turn up before tomorrow night. I’m looking forward to meeting your parents. Mr. and Mrs. Brown?”

“At this stage they like to be called by their first names. It makes them feel young.”

“What are their names?”

“Bingsley and Almetta. Unforgettable, huh?”

Ned gulped. “You b-bet,” he stammered. “Have they been to Hawaii before?”

“Many times since I’ve lived here. They fell in love with the place thirty years ago when they took their first trip to Oahu. They had such a great time, they’ve been coming back ever since.”

“How wonderful. I’ll do my best to keep them entertained.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you,” Will joked. “My mother is a handful.”

36

L ocal and national newspeople had all gathered at the Seashell Museum to interview Jimmy. He was in the museum lobby, holding an ice pack to his forehead, surrounded by cameras and microphones.

“Jimmy going to kill whoever stole my leis. Kill them!”

“What were you doing sitting outside like that with the leis?” a reporter asked.

“I was thanking God for bringing the queen’s lei back to Jimmy. Then this happens! Now they’re both gone.”

“Do you have any idea who could have crept up behind you and then viciously shoved you to the ground?”

“No. If Jimmy knew, he’d be out looking for him right now. But the miserable thief was strong. It takes a lot to knock Jimmy over.”

“Can you identify him in any way?”

“Jimmy has been concentrating very hard. He saw a flash of yellow.”

“Yellow what?” a reporter from the back of the crowd called.

“Yellow something. When Jimmy was shoved, he thought he saw something yellow fly by his face.”

“That’s all you remember?”

“What do you want from Jimmy? Jimmy could have been killed. It’s something! Cops should figure out what to do!”

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell us, Jimmy?”

Jimmy looked straight into the camera. “Whoever did this will have very bad luck, especially if I get my hands on them. Those royal leis were stolen many years ago from the women who made them right before they were to be given to Queen Liliuokalani and Princess Kaiulani. They found the thief and chased him into the ocean. Yesterday one of those royal leis was found around the neck of the lady who drowned at Waikiki Waters. To whoever took both my leis today, I hope the sea swallows you up! There is a curse on those leis!” He paused. “Jimmy needs an aspirin.”

The reporters closed their notebooks, and the cameras were shut off.

“A flash of yellow,” one of the reporters muttered. “This guy should be easy to find.”

37

J ason and Carla were seated at a table by the window, across the room from the twins. Carla couldn’t help looking over at the older women every two minutes.

“Relax and eat,” Jason told her more than once.

“I can’t. I’m so mad. They thumbed their noses at us and this beautiful ring.” She held out her hand.

“Forget it!”

She tried to eat her ahi burger but didn’t feel hungry. What was it about those two that was different today? She glanced over at them again. They were wearing beige slacks and long-sleeved beige shirts. Carla squinted her eyes and recalled seeing them at the hotel wearing garish muumuus.

A waitress walked by and refilled their water glasses as Carla remained deep in thought.

“Carla,” Jason said, “you’re ignoring me.”

“That’s it!” she whispered to him. “Now I remember what I saw the other night when I took my walk on the beach.”

“What?”

“Those women’s muumuus were hanging over their railing. Their lanai is right on the beach. I remember seeing them and thinking that the hotel doesn’t want people hanging things out to dry like that. It makes the place look like a flophouse. The muumuus were soaking wet!”

“So?”

“So that’s the night Dorinda Dawes drowned. Maybe they killed her. How else does your muumuu get all wet like that?”

“How do you even know who the muumuus belonged to, Carla?”

“They were two big ugly muumuus! I know they were theirs. I was tipsy, but I remember thinking that I had seen them before. One was hot pink and the other purple, and otherwise they were identical. They practically glowed in the dark.”

At the other table the twins called for their check.

“Get our check,” Carla ordered Jason.

“Why? I’m not finished.”

“I want to follow them and see what they’re up to.”

“What?”

“We have to. They could be murderers. It’s our duty.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “You’re crazy,” he muttered as he signaled their waiter. “There’s no law against hanging your muumuu out to dry.”

“No, there isn’t,” Carla agreed. “But I still think they’re no good.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Jason sighed.

They certainly would.

38

R egan wandered down to the beach to look for Kit. She spotted Steve and Kit under a large umbrella near the edge of the ocean.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Regan,” Steve announced as he jumped up. “We have a seat right here with your name on it!”

“Thanks.” Regan plopped down and kicked off her sandals. It felt good to dig her toes into the warm sand. Kit and Steve were in bathing suits, and their hair was wet. It was after four, and already many of the sunbathers had retreated from the beach. Empty beach chairs dotted the sand.

“How’s it going?” Kit asked.

“Fine.”

“You’re not a beach person?” Steve asked.

“I love to swim, but I can’t sit in the sun for very long. No matter what I put on, I get burned.” Regan explained.

Steve laughed. “There are a lot of different ways to get burned.”

“I suppose,” Regan answered. Their eyes met for a second, but he looked away quickly. Funny, Regan thought. All of a sudden he looks older than thirty-five. And last night he seemed much more wholesome. Right now he has the aura of someone who’s been to one too many singles parties-slick and tired.

“Kit tells me your fiancé is head of the major case squad in New York City.”

“Yes, he is.”

“And you’re a private investigator?”

“That’s right.”

Steve smiled. “No one can get away with much when the two of you are around.”

“I can’t wait to see what their kids are like,” Kit said with a grin. “I’m the godmother of your first-right, Regan?”

“I’ll be the godfather,” Steve volunteered.

Kit looked at him with an expression of pure joy.

Oh, Kit, this guy is too smooth, Regan thought. He seems to be the type who promises too much too soon and doesn’t mean a word of it. He had already given Kit the line that he couldn’t believe they had so much in common. And Kit loved it! But Regan silently warned herself not to become one of those women who gets in a good relationship and then loses patience for their single friends’ dating problems. “Let’s see if we’re lucky enough to even have kids,” she answered.

“I want to have a houseful of children,” Steve declared.

And I want to trust you, Steve, Regan thought. Don’t make it so hard. Those classic lines you’re feeding Kit are just too much. Regan had heard them all and much to her regret, had too often believed them. I should say a prayer right now thanking God for Jack. Regan watched as Steve reached over and patted Kit’s knee. Kit smiled and reached out her hand. He clutched it for a moment and then brought it to his lips for a little kiss.

I feel a wave of nausea, Regan thought. This Romeo is getting phonier by the minute. Her cell phone rang. Saved by the bell. She reached for it in her bag and pulled it out. The caller ID had the Hawaii area code.

“Hello.”

“Regan, it’s Janet. We’ve got a problem. The leis were stolen from the museum, and Dorinda’s cousin is on his way from the airport. He should be here in about fifteen minutes.”

Regan stood. “Thank you. I’ll call you right back.” She closed her phone and turned to Kit and Steve. “I have some business to take care of.”

“Dinner at my house tonight,” Steve proclaimed. “We’ll cook up some tuna and mahimahi, with a little Italian bread. It’ll be great. Same group as last night.”

I’d rather stick pins in my eyes, Regan thought. “Sounds wonderful,” she said with a smile. “Kit, I’ll see you back at the room later.”

“I’m going to take off soon and go food shopping,” Steve announced. “If you two don’t mind taking a cab to my place, I’ll of course get you home.”

“Do you need help?” Kit asked.

“No,” Steve answered quickly. When he saw the dejected look on Kit’s face, he added, “you girls have a little time together. My buddies are back at the house. They’ll help me get the dinner ready.”

“I have to get back to this caller,” Regan explained. “Kit, I’ll see you by six at the latest.” She turned and headed toward the hotel. She couldn’t believe that both leis were stolen. Dying to hear how it happened, Regan rushed to Will’s office.

Janet was sitting at her desk, glasses perched on her nose, phone to her ear. A little television was on in the corner of the office. The station was replaying Jimmy’s press conference.

“Can you imagine?” Janet asked.

“No,” Regan answered as she listened to Jimmy threaten the thief. “How could this have happened so fast?”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Janet said when Jimmy was finished. “I think he’s right. There must be some kind of curse on those leis. They’re certainly creating chaos with our ball.”

“Someone just walked up behind Jimmy and stole the leis?” Regan asked.

“Just like that.”

“And the only lead is that the thief may have been wearing or carrying something yellow?”

“That’s all Jimmy remembers.”

“Is Will inside?”

“He’s just finishing up with someone.”

Just then the door to his office opened. “Hi, Regan,” Will said. “Say hello to Ned. He works here at the hotel, helping people get in shape.”

“I could use a little exercise,” Regan joked as she reached out her hand.

Ned shook Regan’s hand firmly, so firmly that she had to resist the impulse to massage her thoroughly squeezed palm. He’s a strong, athletic-looking guy, Regan noticed. I guess he can’t help himself. Though he does seem a little distracted and fidgety.

“Nice to meet you. Talk to you later, Will,” he said and was gone.

“He’s a big help,” Will explained as he shut the door. “I’ve had him spending time with that tour group we were talking about before. He’s been great with them. He has a lot of patience.”

He didn’t strike me as the patient type, Regan thought as she sat in what by now felt like her chair. “Will, what happened to the leis?”

“Janet told you they were stolen.”

“I just saw the press conference. I can’t believe it. What is with those leis? It’s as if they’re taking on a life of their own.”

“And just when my parents are coming to town. With my luck someone will offer to sell them to my mother again.”

“What effect will this have on the ball?”

“It’s hard to say. The fund-raising committee is trying to figure out what else they can auction off that will get people excited. People have already paid for their tickets. We have to make sure they don’t try to cancel.”

“No matter what, you’re getting a lot of publicity.”

“If I live through this weekend, it’ll be a miracle.”

The buzzer on Will’s desk rang. Janet informed him that Dorinda’s cousin had arrived.

“This should be interesting,” Will commented with a raised eyebrow as he got up from his desk and walked over to open the door.

Regan turned and was shocked at the sight of Dorinda’s closest kinfolk. Maybe because he lived in Venice Beach, California, she expected a young muscular skateboarder. But this guy was about seventy and had brownish-red shoe polish hair. He was wearing a loud print shirt, tan pants held up by a white patent leather belt, and white patent leather shoes. His bushy eyebrows and sideburns looked as if he’d made an attempt to match them with the shade of his hair but hadn’t quite succeeded. He was medium height and medium build with a protruding stomach that struck Regan as the steering wheel for his body. But he seemed an affable sort as he put down his carry-on bag on the floor and greeted them.

“So pleased to meet you,” he boomed to Will. “I’m the cousin.”

The cousin? Regan thought. That’s a good one. The cousin of the deceased.

Will introduced himself and Regan.

“Hello, Regan,” he boomed. “I’m telling you traveling these days is getting tougher and tougher. The lines at the airports are just terrible. I need to sit down.”

“Please.” Will quickly indicated the other chair in front of his desk. “Your name is?”

“Oh, yes. Well I’m a Dawes. Dorinda’s father and my father were brothers. Dorinda’s father got married much later in life. They said they never thought Uncle Gaggy would tie the knot, but he finally did. That’s why there was a little bit of an age difference between me and Dorie.”

Uncle Gaggy? Dorie? And I’d say there was more than a little bit of an age difference. Your last name is Dawes. And your first name? Regan wondered.

The cousin sat down and crossed his legs, extending his left leg. The pointy toe of his shoe was inches from Regan’s thigh.

“Can I get you anything?” Will asked.

“I’m telling you I could use a mai tai. But right now I’ll settle for a cup of that coffee you have over there.” He pointed to the pot on a side counter. “Is it that fancy Hawaiian coffee that Dorinda liked? She had champagne tastes I’m telling you.”

Will jumped up and poured a cup. “Dorinda did like this Kona coffee,” he mumbled.

“Thank you,” the cousin said as he stirred his coffee and added three sugars. He cleared his throat. “Now as I was saying, Uncle Gaggy married later in life. Dorinda’s mother was no spring chicken, either. They had one child, Dorinda. Her parents have been dead about ten years. I was an only child as well. But we didn’t grow up together. My parents have passed on and I’m Dorie’s only relative, but she didn’t seem that interested in getting together much. We spoke occasionally.” He paused to take a sip.

My God, Regan thought. I never met Dorinda, but from what I gather she wouldn’t have found you to be her speed. And you were her only relative. I’m sure she wouldn’t have introduced you to her friends because she wanted to project a more chic image. Regan was about to ask him a question when he started talking again.

“That’s good coffee. Hawaii produces good coffee,” he pronounced, then started to laugh and slap his knee. “I still haven’t told you my name. I’m Gus Dawes.”

Regan smiled. “It’s good to finally know your name, Gus.”

“Now I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?” he asked as he wiped his mouth with the paper napkin Will had offered him.

Regan looked at Will and decided to let him answer the question. She didn’t know how much Will wanted to tell Dorinda’s only relative about his suspicions relating to her death. She needn’t have worried.

“Regan is a private investigator who is staying at the hotel. I met her the other day and asked her to look into Dorinda’s death,” Will stated.

Gus uncrossed his leg, much to Regan’s relief, and crossed the other one. At least there’s no one sitting in the direction of his other shoe, she thought. Gus leaned forward and grabbed the sole of his left loafer. “I’m not surprised. With that acid pen of hers, I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of people wanted to kill her!” He chuckled. “Even when she was a kid, she was a brat,” he reminisced. “I remember being at a family party. She had her little camera and was going around taking pictures of people’s behinds.” He started laughing, then coughing, then gained control of himself. “She enjoyed making people look stupid.”

Clearly he’s not grief stricken, Regan decided. Will’s expression, she realized, was one of horror. He’s probably wondering why he ever hired her.

“I think that’s a good idea to check out her death,” Gus continued. “I’ve also been thinking about that lei she had around her neck. She always managed to get herself into trouble.”

“That lei has been stolen again,” Will informed him and gave the details of what he knew.

Gus slapped Will’s desk. “You’re kidding! Well, I’ll tell you.”

“When’s the last time you saw Dorinda?” Regan asked.

“Three or four years ago.”

“You live in California?” Regan asked.

“Yes. I love the sun. It’s wonderful.”

“Do you have any other family?” Regan asked.

“A few distant cousins on my mother’s side, but they’re strange.”

“How long are you planning to stay in Hawaii?” Will asked.

“I figured as long as I’m making the trip and have a place to stay, I may as well make the most of it. I figure about ten days. I want to see the Dole plantation and do some sightseeing. Hey, I hear that a few months back thousands of pounds of bananas were stolen from a farm up north. I hope those thieves acted fast. After a couple of days what are you going to do with them? They start to smell and they attract flies.” His eyes crinkled as he laughed. “I say they should check and see if there’s a cereal convention going on around here. That’s the most likely spot for all those bananas!”

Will smiled trying to be polite. “So you will clear Dorinda’s things out of the apartment when you leave?”

“Oh, yes. I spoke to the woman at her apartment in New York. She has Dorinda’s apartment for a few more months. Then I’ll take a trip to New York and clear things up there. It’s a good thing I love to travel. It’s good to get away. Who knows? Maybe I’ll stay here until Dorie’s lease is up.”

“Gus,” Regan began, “I was wondering if I could go with you to Dorinda’s apartment. I want to see if there’s anything there that might be helpful in figuring out what might have happened…”

“Be my guest,” Gus said. “I was told I could get a set of keys from the superintendent. Do you want to come with me now? Because, let me tell you, once I get in that bed and fall asleep, I’ll be out for twelve hours. But tomorrow I’ll be ready to rock and roll.” He turned to Will. “I see you’re having a big ball tomorrow night. Any chance I could get a ticket? I love to party.”

“I’m sure we could arrange that,” Will said.

“Grand! Let’s go, Regan. I’m dying to get out of these clothes.”

Will looked at Regan and smiled.

“I’m ready,” Regan said, winking at Will. Wait till Jack hears about this, she thought.

39

N ed went back to his room, not quite believing that the people he had sold the lei to thirty years ago could be Will’s parents. How is it possible? he wondered. But how many other people could be called Bingsley and Almetta? It was thirty years ago, and I still remember being surprised by their names. And he remembered how intently Almetta had stared at his feet. Maybe she had forgotten. Not that it mattered. He had no intention of exposing his feet to them even though Will wanted him to take them swimming and boating tomorrow.

When he got to the room, he was grateful that Artie was nowhere in sight. He flipped on the TV. A reporter was talking about the theft of the shell leis.

“In broad daylight a brazen criminal went up and grabbed them off the picnic table outside the Seashell Museum, but not before brutally shoving the owner to the ground…”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Ned protested to the television.

“…The owner did not get a look at his assailant but says he’s sure he saw a flash of some sort of yellow. It’s not a lot to go on, but the police are determined to track down and put the coward who perpetrated this horrendous act behind bars.”

Ned went white. My yellow knapsack. I left it in the alleyway. Did it have anything in it that would identify me? He raced out of the room and, too impatient to wait for the elevator, took the stairs to the main floor two at a time, and once again jumped into a cab. I can’t get caught, he thought. No matter what, I can’t get caught.

40

W ill arranged for a driver from the hotel to take Regan and Gus to Dorinda’s apartment. It was located several blocks from the beach in a two-story pink building with a small parking lot right in front.

“Not exactly glamorous,” Gus declared when the car stopped, “but the price is right.”

This guy is classic, Regan thought. He’s about to enter the apartment where his dead cousin has been living for the past couple of months, and all he’s thinking about is that he can stay for free. The driver offered to help with Gus’s bag, but Gus had a suitcase with wheels and seemed pleased to cart it himself. He rang the super’s bell and identified himself as, once again, the cousin.

The super handed over the keys and shut the door.

“She lived on the second floor,” Gus proclaimed cheerfully.

There was no elevator, so he lifted his suitcase, and Regan followed him up the steps. On the second-floor landing Gus turned and announced, “Here we are!” He unlocked the door to 2B and pushed it open. He reached for the light switch and flicked it on. A small but cozy living room lay in front of them. Straight ahead a round diningroom table was pushed up against a bay window. The table was covered with papers. A desk against the wall was also overflowing with clutter. Photographic equipment was scattered around.

“From the way it looked out front, I expected worse,” Gus declared, “but this place is kind of cute.”

“It is,” Regan agreed, wondering if the bright blue couch was a Bernadette Castro special. A multicolored area rug, two beige over-stuffed chairs, and a coffee table filled with Hawaiian knickknacks filled the room. Framed prints of various sunsets covered the walls. Regan glanced briefly in the bedroom, which was tiny. The bed was made, but some clothes were thrown on a chair. In the bathroom, toiletries filled the shelves. A compact kitchen was located just off the dining area. The place was clean but messy. Dorinda had clearly made her mark.

Gus walked around. “I have to say it is a little depressing to think that Dorinda is dead. Now that I see her things, I wish we’d seen each other a little more.”

“I can understand. I’m sorry.” Regan walked over to the desk and looked at the framed pictures. One was a group shot obviously taken at a party. A beaming Dorinda was gazing up with adoring eyes at a tall guy in a tuxedo. Regan picked it up, inspected it closely, and was shocked to realize that the guy Dorinda was gazing up at was Steve! I can’t believe it, she thought. She looks like she’s in love with him.

“No family photos,” Gus commented as he looked around. “Well, everyone except me is dead, and Dorie was hardly the sentimental type.”

“You don’t mind if I go through a few of the things on her desk?” Regan asked.

“It’s all the same time to me. I’ll bring my suitcase into the bedroom and start to get settled. I’m going to need to lay down soon.”

“I won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” Gus practically ordered in his booming voice. He took out his handkerchief and heartily blew his nose. “I get so stuffed up on planes,” he commented. He waved his handkerchief around and then crammed it back in his pocket.

He must have driven Dorinda nuts, Regan mused. She turned and picked up the photo once again and looked at Steve and Dorinda. He obviously knew Dorinda but hadn’t said much about her. Regan sat down and sorted through the papers that were all over the desktop. There were scribblings on various sheets of paper. Notes to do errands and take pictures. She pulled open the top drawer where she expected to find a jumble of pens and paper clips. Instead there was a lone tan file marked PROSPECTIVE DIRT. Regan’s heart skipped a beat. She opened it. The first thing she saw was a last will and testament of someone named Sal Hawkins.

Who’s that? Regan wondered as she started to read.

“I, Sal Hawkins, being of sound mind and body, do hereby leave all my earthly possessions, including cash and the proceeds from the sale of my house, to the Praise the Rain Club for future trips to Hawaii.”

That’s the group at the hotel, Regan realized as she read on. He’d left two sisters in charge of the money with instructions to lead five others to Hawaii every three months. Sal Hawkins had left an estate valued at $10 million. That should cover a lot of trips to Hawaii, Regan imagined. She looked at the date of the will. It was only four years ago. If he died soon after, there should be money for trips for years to come. But Will had been talking about how cheap the tour organizers were.

Regan found a blank piece of paper and took a few notes. She looked through the rest of the file and almost missed another picture of Steve, this time by himself. She turned the photo over. The caption read, “Retired from WHAT?” Oh, boy, she thought. What’s this all about? He was standing in a bar smiling at the camera. Regan wasn’t sure whether it was a bar at the Waikiki Waters or not. So what’s the prospective dirt on him? A newspaper clipping about Claude Mott Enterprises was also in the file. It was one paragraph long and said that he was attempting to launch a line of leisure clothing. Stapled to the back of the article was a picture of Jazzy.

Well, Regan thought, she really seems to have zoned in on that group. But why? Did Steve spurn her advances? Regan could certainly understand why Dorinda and Jazzy wouldn’t have gotten along; they were too much alike. And what about this tour group?

“How are you doing, Regan? Did you find anything interesting about my cousin?” Gus reentered the room. He was drying his face with a hand towel. “It feels so good to freshen up. I can’t wait to get a swim tomorrow. Now that will really feel good.”

“There are a few things here, Gus. Do you mind if I take this file with me?”

“Go ahead. It looks like it’s going to be some job sorting through Dorinda’s things. I’ll probably give most of it away to whatever Hawaii’s version of Goodwill is.”

“I know you want to rest, so I’ll get out of your way. If you don’t mind, I might give you a call tomorrow.”

“I’d be delighted. And I’ll see you at the ball tomorrow night, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“Marvelous. Shall I call you a cab?”

“I’ll head out and start walking. I could use the exercise. I’m sure I’ll be able to hail one on the street.”

“Be careful out there, Regan. This doesn’t appear to be the best part of town.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Two minutes later Regan was out on the street. She walked toward the beach and decided to take the route to the Waikiki Waters that she had been told Dorinda had taken many times. The route Dorinda was supposedly taking a couple of nights ago, the night she didn’t make it home.

As Regan walked, she wondered at what point Dorinda had steered from this path. When Regan approached the jetty, she stared out at the rocks. A couple, hand in hand, emerged from the base down at the very end, out by the water. They started walking slowly back toward the beach. Oh, Dorinda, Regan thought. Was this where you met your fate? Regan shrugged. I’m afraid it’s something we might never know.

41

“I just got out of a relationship,” Francie declared to Artie as the two of them meandered along the beach. “He always had me on the back burner. I don’t think of myself as back burner material, you know?”

“Sure,” Artie answered absentmindedly. He was thinking about the way Ned had run out of the room today. All of a sudden Ned seemed to have something important on his mind, and it was obviously distracting him.

“I’d really like to meet a guy,” Francie admitted. “And I’m sick of being hit on by men who just want a little fun on the side. If you can believe it, that Bob tried to put the moves on me the other night. Can you stand it? His wife had gone to bed, and he’s writing the chapter in the book about how to keep a relationship exciting. If his wife catches him, it will really be exciting. She’ll throw a vase at his head.”

“He made a pass at you?” Artie asked.

“I’d have to say yes. He said that his wife was really boring and wished he could have a little extra fun in Hawaii.”

“What did you say?”

“Dorinda Dawes came up behind us and snapped our picture. Bob got upset. End of conversation.”

“And now she’s dead.”

Francie stopped in her tracks and grabbed Artie’s arm. “Do you think there’s a connection?”

Artie shrugged. “You never know.”

“The Mixed Bag Tour group would never be the same.”

“Who cares?” Artie answered as he picked up a stone and threw it into the water. “Gert and Ev are nothing but two big cheapskates. It’s hardly fun. Can you believe that I have to share a room with Ned?”

“He seems nice,” Francie said coyly.

“You like him, don’t you?”

“Well, at least he’s the right age. But it doesn’t matter. We’re leaving in a couple of days anyway.”

Joy was approaching them from the opposite direction. She was jogging.

“Here she comes,” Artie grunted. “Little miss lifeguard chaser.”

“She’s just a kid,” Francie said. “I wish I were her age again. Sometimes.”

Huffing and puffing, Joy ran toward them. She finally stopped a few feet from them and struggled to catch her breath. “Gert and Ev called my cell phone,” she said. “They’re not going to make it back for cocktails or dinner.”

“They’re not? How many hotels could they be looking at?” Francie asked.

“I don’t know. They never let me ask questions.” Joy wiped her brow with her hand. “They said the five of us should go to dinner together in any of the restaurants here at the hotel and sign it to their room.”

“Let’s all order caviar and champagne,” Artie suggested, “and then move on to prime rib and lobster.”

“Did you tell Bob and Betsy?” Francie asked.

“I called their room, but there’s no answer. I left them a message.”

“It’s so unlike Gert and Ev not to be here breathing down our necks and watching everything we order,” Artie commented. “Something’s up with them.”

“Let’s make the most of it,” Francie cried gleefully. “We’ll eat, drink, and spend money.”

“When are our fearless leaders going to be back?” Artie asked.

“Later tonight. They plan to be on the morning beach walk tomorrow.”

“You know, it seems that everyone is going to the ball except us,” Francie noted. “I think we should order tickets for the group and charge them to their room, too.”

“They’re sold out,” Joy declared. “I don’t want to go anyway.”

“Well, I do,” Francie said. “They’re going to have hula dancers, two bands, dinner, and dancing. I don’t want to just sit through another boring group dinner. I feel like Cinderella.” She turned to Artie. “What do you think?”

“If I don’t have to pay for it, I’ll go.”

“Well, you don’t,” Francie said with conviction. “I’m sure Sal Hawkins would have wanted us to have some fun. Let’s go to the manager’s office and see if we can order tickets. Joy, you’re sure you don’t want us to get one for you?”

“Positive.”

“What about our exciting couple?” Artie asked.

“Let them fend for themselves. We’ll get tickets for you and me.”

“I can’t wait to see the expressions on Gert and Ev’s faces when they find out you charged expensive tickets to their room,” Joy said mischievously.

“I don’t care,” Francie declared. “Artie, let’s go. Joy, how about if we meet at the pool at seven for cocktails and then we’ll go eat?”

“Fine.”

“Where could Gert and Ev possibly be?” Artie asked as he and Francie headed for the reception area.

Francie laughed. “Maybe they got lucky.”

42

“W hy did you have to follow us?” Ev asked Jason and Carla. “Why? You should have known that that was a very bad idea.”

Jason and Carla were tied up in the basement of Gert and Ev’s newly built, nearly finished home on the Big Island. The smell of sawdust was still in the air. The house was up in the hills, twelve hundred feet above sea level, nestled in a rural wooded section of the island. Gert and Ev planned to move in lock, stock, and barrel by early summer. They figured they’d have lots of privacy on their six-acre lot. The next-door neighbor could only be reached by taking an overgrown path though the woods. But Gert and Ev could stand on their deck and see the Pacific Ocean way off in the distance. They had a large swimming pool and a hot tub for cold mornings in the mountains. It was their dream home purchased with Sal Hawkins’s money that should have been spent on waterlogged Hudville residents.

“You couldn’t mind your own business, could you?” Gert asked. “You followed us out of the restaurant and thought you were being sneaky. Or did you just happen to come up this way? Our long, winding driveway is not exactly a busy thoroughfare.”

“You were so rude to us at the airport,” Carla snapped.

“Since when is being rude a crime?” Ev retorted. “Gert, did you know being rude is a crime?”

“No, sister. I certainly didn’t.”

“Then what crime did you commit?” Carla asked with more bravado than she felt. “Just because we drove up your driveway, you don’t have to hold us against our will. You could have just told us to get lost.”

“You were getting into our business,” Ev declared. “And now you’ve made us miss our flight back to Oahu. We’re not happy about that.”

“I hate missing my dinner,” Gert said as she blew on the pistol she had in her hands. The sight of the pistol was the only reason Jason did as he was told.

“Let us go,” Jason implored. “Let’s just forget we ever ran into you.”

Ev shook her head. “I don’t think so. We know that you’ll go and tell everyone about our hideaway. Right, Gert?”

“Sure enough, sister.”

“Then what are you going to do with us?” Carla asked, practically choking on her words.

“We have to figure that out. But I don’t anticipate a very pleasant outcome for you. Gert and I have a lot to look forward to, and we don’t want anyone to ruin our plans.”

“So do we,” Carla cried. “We just got engaged. I want to get married!”

“Gert can marry you. She’s an online minister.”

“I’d rather die!” Carla spat.

“Maybe you will, my dear,” Ev answered. “Let’s go, sister. We have to see if we can get a later flight back to Oahu. We have to be there first thing in the morning or else our tour group will start to wonder.”

“Are you just going to leave us here?” Jason asked. His hands were tied behind his back, and they ached. Ev had tied them so tightly, his circulation was being cut off.

“We’ll be back to take care of you tomorrow night when it’s dark and no one is around. But first we have to make sure you don’t try to make too much noise.” Ev pulled some torn sheets from a bag on the floor. “Here, sister.” She nodded to Gert.

Quickly the two of them tied gags around Carla and Jason’s mouths.

Gert pointed the gun at the couple. “Don’t try anything funny. You’ll be sorry if you do.” She turned, followed her twin up the steps, and flicked off the light.

43

G lenn the bellman took a quick break shortly after Ned had handed over the shopping bag. He went into a tiny staff lavatory off the package room where they stored all the suitcases, packages, surfboards, and golf clubs that were waiting to be delivered to guests’ rooms. It was a Friday afternoon, large groups of people were checking in, and it was a madhouse. Glenn was sure he could slip away for a couple of minutes and not be noticed since there were several other bellmen on duty.

The bathroom rated high on the gross-out scale. In fact, gas station latrines were more inviting.

But Glenn didn’t care. He’d chosen it because of that. He knew that he’d have more privacy here. Girls wouldn’t come within ten feet of this place, and even the guys preferred to use the decent bathrooms down the hall from the bell station, as opposed to this little box that had somehow escaped the renovation process. It also seemed to have escaped attention from any maid for the last twenty years.

Glenn’s conversation with Ned had sparked his curiosity. Ned had seemed nervous. What exactly was in the box? What kind of toys was he talking about? It looked like a pretty sloppy wrapping job. He was sure that he could take a peek at the box’s contents, reseal it, and leave it for Ned’s friend to pick up.

He locked the door and flicked the seat cover down on the toilet. It landed with a bang. He sat down and pulled the box out of the shopping bag. The hula girls on the wrapping paper were smiling at him, as if they knew what he was up to. Glenn shook the box. It rattled.

A piece of tape had become unstuck, and the wrapping paper that had covered a side of the box spread open. Glenn laughed. “This is too easy.”

Glenn was something of an expert at fishing around people’s bags and packages, and at slithering in and out of rooms at the hotel. He was able to appear and disappear without people taking much notice, and if they did, he could say he was doing something for Will. He had really pulled the wool over Will’s eyes and used it to his great advantage. Will thought that he was Glenn’s mentor. Huh! I could mentor him on a few things, Glenn thought.

Glenn rested the box on his knees. Carefully he pulled another piece of tape off the wrapping paper, trying not to destroy the image of the hula girl. He slid the box out and dropped the paper in the shopping bag. He lifted the top off the box and placed that in the shopping bag as well. He then turned his full attention to the contents of the box. He couldn’t believe his eyes! There were no toys inside. Glenn slowly lifted two exquisite shell leis into the air.

“Oh, my God!” he whispered. “These are the stolen royal leis. I can’t believe what a liar Ned is!” He unhooked his cell phone from his belt and made a call. “You are not going to believe what I have in my hands!” Quickly he recounted his story. Then he listened. “Yes! That’s a wonderful idea. Better than anything we’ve done so far! Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

Glenn turned off his cell phone, returned it to his belt, wrapped up the now empty box, and placed the leis at the bottom of the shopping bag. He returned to the storage room, found another shopping bag, and slipped the leis into it. He scooted out to the garage and placed both bags in the trunk of his Honda. Then he hurried to one of the hotel shops where he knew they sold newspapers, magazines, and cheap shell leis. He purchased two of the leis, went back to his car, put the new leis inside the box, and resealed the wrapping paper. He left the valuable leis in his trunk. Then he returned to the bell station, slid the shopping bag Ned gave him under the counter, and told the captain that it would be picked up by a friend of Ned’s, one of the hotel’s trainers.

Glenn couldn’t wait until his dinner break. It wouldn’t be long. Then he’d get a chance to have a little fun with the royal leis. Let Will try to explain this one, he thought gleefully. Just another day at the Waikiki Waters Playground and Resort.

44

R egan decided to stop on the beach for a few minutes before going back to the room. She sat on the sand, pulled out her cell phone, and called Jack. Quickly she filled him in on what she had found in Dorinda’s apartment, as well as the fact that the leis had been stolen again.

“Stolen again? What’s going on out there, Regan?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. And I’ve got to tell you, this guy Kit has hooked up with seemed iffy, but then to see his picture in Dorinda’s ‘Prospective Dirt’ file is really disturbing. On the back of the photo, Dorinda wrote, ‘Retired from WHAT?’ ”

“What’s his name again?”

“Steve Yardley.”

“I’ll run a check on him. Maybe you should try to get his fingerprints on something.”

“They’re all over Kit.”

“He’s really putting on the moves, huh?”

“I’m afraid so. And Kit is falling for it. Maybe he’s all right, but now I just don’t trust him. We’re invited to his house for dinner tonight. Don’t you think trying to get his fingerprints is a little extreme?”

“Nah. See if you can nab something small with his prints. I’ll ask Mike Darnell to process them. Then I can find out if he has a criminal record. It’s not a big deal to check him out.”

“I feel a little guilty,” Regan admitted. “Kit really likes this guy. He might be just fine, but my gut tells me he isn’t. I may be paranoid but seeing him in Dorinda’s file…”

“You remember what happened with Kit’s last suitor,” Jack reminded her. “He wasn’t a criminal, but he was a liar. You didn’t go with your gut then because Kit’s your friend, and she ended up getting hurt. You obviously won’t tell her your suspicions. If this guy checks out, then all the better. We’ll be relieved, and Kit will never know.”

“Okay. If Steve weren’t in Dorinda’s dirt file, I might let it go, but there he is along with a few of the other suspicious characters around here. Maybe I’ll give Mike a call later and ask him if they have any leads about the leis. That’s not my problem, but Will, the hotel manager, is worried that they have nothing interesting to auction off at the Princess ball. There’s no hook for the event, so to speak.”

“I’ll just be glad when you’re back,” Jack said. “And when we’re on our honeymoon, I’m not going to let you take on any cases.”

“As if.” Regan laughed. “If I can help Will out at least a little bit, I’ll be happy. If the ball is a success, then that will be good for him. And if I can find any leads about how Dorinda ended up in the water the other night, then that’s all to the good. But I don’t see how I can do that and figure out the source of the problems at the hotel in just a couple of days.”

Jack, who always was so calm, reassured her-“Regan, I know that no matter what, you’ll end up helping Will. I’m sure he feels better just having you around. I know I always do.”

“And I feel much better when you’re around.” Regan smiled. “Oh, Jack, you’d get such a kick out of Dorinda’s cousin. He’s a trip. I can’t believe he’s her only living relative. Even though she had a bad rep in a lot of ways, I’m sure one thing she never worried about was embarrassing her family.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“He managed to score a free ticket for the ball tomorrow night.”

“Well, don’t be too much of a princess at that ball. I don’t want some guy sweeping you off into the night.”

“If there’s anything that I’m sure of in this world, it’s that that won’t happen.” When she hung up, Regan looked at her watch. It was 5:15. The beach was peaceful, mellow, and nearly empty. I think I’ll pay a quick visit to Will, she decided. Then it’s off to dinner at Steve’s with Kit.

Somehow she had no appetite.

45

A t 5:15, Glenn went on his dinner break. As he left the lobby area, he saw Will standing and talking to the concierge. They looked as if they were deep in discussion. I’ve got to make this quick, Glenn thought. He quickly headed to his car, took the bag with the leis out of the trunk, and snapped it shut.

He hurried out of the garage and up onto the circular driveway where the cars pulled in and out of the reception area. His destination was Will’s office. He planned to gain access through the sliding glass doors that looked out onto a small garden of lush tropical vegetation. It was an isolated area that you could only get to from the main path where hotel guests strolled to the shops and different towers. The solid brick wall of the ladies’ clothing store was right across the little garden. If I can just slip into that area without being seen, he thought, then I can be in and out fast.

Once on the main path, Glenn ducked into the narrow grassy area that led to Will’s own private little garden. He was sure no one had seen him. He stayed close to the building, and when he reached the door, he hid behind a shrub and took a quick peek into Will’s office. There was no one there. The screen of the sliding glass door was closed. Will inched forward and quickly pulled on it. The screen door slid open easily. Glenn took the leis out of the bag and placed them on the floor so they couldn’t possibly be missed. He then turned and dashed off. When he was in the clear, he called his contact and told them to call the police.

Within minutes, the police received an anonymous tip that the stolen leis from the Seashell Museum were in Will Brown’s office at the Waikiki Waters Playground and Resort.

46

“W ill, there you are,” Regan said as she approached the concierge’s desk.

“Hi, Regan. This is Otis, our concierge. He tells me that people are still looking for tickets to the ball.”

“That’s good news. It’s nice to meet you, Otis.”

Otis had a thin mustache and seemed very efficient. His expression indicated that he was overly pleased with himself. “You, too,” he said to Regan almost dismissively. “Mr. Brown, I am doing my best to accommodate everyone. But a couple of people from the tour group from Hudville are insisting that we find them tickets for the ball. I told them they should have made reservations days ago. I told them I would put them on the waiting list and consult with you.”

“They want to buy tickets?” Will asked. “I’m surprised. They usually don’t want to spend money. Are the twin sisters the ones requesting the tickets?”

“No, sir. A woman and a man from the group were asking,” Otis said primly.

Lighten up, Otis, Regan thought. This is the land of aloha. And this might be the Princess Ball, but we’re not talking Buckingham Palace.

“Were they planning to pay for the tickets themselves?”

“No, sir. They said if we were able to procure tickets, we should charge them to the sisters’ room.”

Will whistled. “That’s a new one. How many tickets do they want?”

“Two. Possibly four.”

“If they’re finally going to start spending money, I’ll have to find them some seats. Tell them they can have the tickets.”

“Very well.”

“I hope that we don’t get too many cancellations for tomorrow night now that the leis are off the menu,” Will said.

“Sir, it appears that the interest in the ball has waxed rather than waned.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Will, could I speak to you in your office?” Regan asked.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

Regan followed him through the reception area, which as usual was bustling. They went behind the desk where people were checking in and entered the inner sanctum.

Janet was at her desk. She handed Will a piece of paper. “The head of the auction committee called. She just got word about the leis being stolen. She wants to know if you have any suggestions about what they can auction off in place of the leis.”

“How about my head on a platter?” Will muttered. He took the paper with the phone number on it and entered his office. He stopped short so fast that Regan almost bumped into him. “Oh, my God!” he exclaimed.

“What?” Regan asked. Quickly she moved aside and looked down. The two beautiful shell leis she had seen just this morning at the Seashell Museum were lying on the floor. The sliding screen door was open.

Will went over and picked them up.

“The royal leis,” Regan said, her voice incredulous.

The color was draining from Will’s face. He looked at Regan in bewilderment. “What am I going to do?”

“We’ll call the police.”

Janet was standing in the doorway. “There’s no need. They’re already here.”

47

T he cab dropped Ned off in front of the old movie theater on Kalakaua Avenue, the main street in Waikiki. By now he was perspiring. It’s just a knapsack, he told himself over and over. Even if there’s something of mine in it that identifies me, that doesn’t mean I stole the leis. The cops don’t even know it was a yellow knapsack. It could have been a guy in a yellow shirt.

He crossed the street, darting around the traffic, and headed straight for the alley where he’d done his gift wrapping. It was narrow and dark, but he could tell immediately that the knapsack was gone. Ned ran down the alley looking for it. Nothing. He checked in a garbage can. It wasn’t there. What could have happened to it? he thought frantically. He was trying to remember if there could have been anything inside it that would identify him. Was there a bank slip? A receipt from the ATM machine? Ned just wasn’t sure.

He emerged from the alley and noticed a vagrant with a hangdog expression sitting on the sidewalk, his butt smack on the middle of Ned’s yellow knapsack. Ned was sure it was his. He could see the oil stains on the side.

“Excuse me, buddy,” Ned said, “but I think you’re sitting on my bag.”

The vagrant ignored him.

“Come on, man,” Ned pleaded as he leaned down and started to pull on one of the straps. It turned out not to be the greatest idea.

The formerly silent vagrant went nuts. “This is mine!” he screamed. “Leave me alone! Help! Police! Hellllpppppp!”

His noisy protests had the intended effect. Passersby started to stop and murmur the way people do when some drama is unfolding. In an instant Ned realized that it was far better to get the heck out of there and risk whatever might be found inside the bag, bank slip or no bank slip. He hightailed it down the block, crossed the street, and did his best to disappear into the Friday night crowds.

That’s the second time today I ran off serenaded by the sounds of someone squawking in my wake, Ned realized. But this was too much of a close call. People had seen him. All I need is to be caught in a tug-of-war over a dirty yellow knapsack with a guy who lives on the street. Then they’d really have cause to lock me up.

Ned’s heart was beating so fast, he decided to walk back to the hotel to calm himself. It wasn’t that far. What have I gotten myself into? he wondered. I’ve got to get that package back from the bell station, he decided. It’s not worth leaving there. I’ll take the chance that Artie isn’t as nosy as I was when I was a kid, going through my mother’s closets and peeking at the wrapped Christmas presents.

When Ned got back to the hotel, there was more excitement. A police car was parked in the driveway, its lights flashing. The first person Ned saw was the ubiquitous Glenn.

“What’s going on?” Ned asked.

“The stolen leis were discovered in Will’s office. An anonymous tipster called the police.”

Ned tried not to flinch. “The stolen leis?”

“That’s right.”

“Will must be happy,” Ned said carefully.

“I don’t know about that. It doesn’t look too good for the hotel that stolen property is found in the manager’s office.”

“Oh, give me a break, Glenn. Will obviously had nothing to do with it.”

“I didn’t say he did.”

Ned’s head was spinning, but he was doing his best not to let his discomfort show. Now he really had to get his box with the hula girl wrapping paper back. “Do you know if my friend came to pick up the package I left for her?”

“If she did, I didn’t see her,” Glenn answered cheerily and efficiently. “But let me go check.” He stepped away while Ned stood in the reception area trying to absorb what was going on. In two seconds flat Glenn was back. “No. Ms. Legatte didn’t pick it up after all. The package is still behind the desk, safe and sound.”

“Great. You know, on second thought, I think I’ll drop it off at her place tonight. Could I have the bag, please?”

“Sure! She sounds like a good friend. You go shopping for her and then deliver the goods to her doorstep.” Glenn waltzed off, retrieved the bag from behind the desk, sauntered back, and slowly handed it over to Ned. “I don’t need a tip,” he joked with a big smile. “We’re both working stiffs at this grand resort.”

“Right, thanks.” Ned took the bag and started to walk back to his room. When he went around the corner and was out of Glenn’s sight, he lifted the box and shook it. He was glad to hear a rattling sound, as if the shell leis were still in there. Is Glenn messing with my head? he wondered. If he is, he’ll be sorry. I can’t wait to open this box. He silently prayed that Artie wouldn’t be in their room. But he had barely put the key in the door and was pushing it open when Artie called out to him.

“Hey, Ned.”

Ned cringed. “Hi, there,” he said as he entered the room.

Artie jumped up from his bed where he’d been lounging. “It’s time to meet the others for drinks. Are you going to join us?”

“Maybe in a few minutes,” Ned replied. He sat down on his bed.

“What have you got in the bag there?” Artie asked, his eyes looking down into the bag.

“A present for my mother,” Ned answered quickly.

“That’s sexy wrapping paper for a mother.”

“My mother has always liked crazy stuff.”

“Not my mother. She’s prim and proper. She’d have me committed if I handed her a present with that paper on it. She prefers paper with rainbows and shooting stars and cutesy teddy bears.”

Ned thought he was going to scream. Instead he shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and wiped his forehead.

“Are you all right?” Artie asked.

“Yes. Why?”

“You seem a little preoccupied.”

“I’m fine,” Ned insisted. “I’ll join you downstairs for drinks in a few minutes. I want to call my mother. She hasn’t been feeling well. That’s why I bought her this crazy present.”

“That’s nice! If she were here, I’d give her a free massage. What crazy present did you get her anyway?”

Ned almost choked. Once you start lying, it truly becomes a tangled web. “I just got her a couple of muumuus and a Hawaiian bathing suit.”

“Where does she live?”

“In Maine.”

Artie laughed. “I can just picture it. Someone walking around in a muumuu on the rocky coast of Maine.”

Ned looked up at him and couldn’t contain a flash of anger. “She goes to Florida in the winter. Women wear muumuus in Florida.”

“I’m sorry, Ned,” Artie apologized. “I was just trying to have some fun. Listen, old Gert and Ev aren’t going to be back until late. Who knows what they’re up to. Maybe they met a couple of guys. Anyway, the five of us are eating on our own and are planning to spend a lot of Sal Hawkins’s money. We’re starting with expensive drinks down by the pool. We’re going to take in the hula show. I hope the girls look as good as they do on your paper there. Come down after you talk to your mother, and give her my best wishes. I hope she feels better soon.” He quickly disappeared out the door.

Ned sat there for what felt like an eternity, sure that Artie would burst back in at any moment. When he was finally satisfied that enough time had passed for Artie to be sipping his first piña colada of the night, Ned went over and bolted the door-just in case. It would be hard to explain if Artie came back and couldn’t get in. But Ned had to take that chance.

He laid the box on the bed and noticed that a tiny piece of the wrapping paper near where it was taped was white. Part of a hula girl’s lei had come off and was stuck to a piece of the tape. How appropriate, Ned thought. Is this an indication that someone was tampering with the box? He pulled off the wrapping and lifted the cover. He gasped. Inside were two shell leis that looked as if they cost about a dollar each.

“Who did this?” Ned exclaimed. “Was it Glenn?” What can I do? he thought frantically. What can I do? Ask him if he took the leis I stole and put them in Will’s office? Maybe he wasn’t the one. Maybe someone followed me today and saw that I handed the bag to the bellman. But how did they get the package? Anything could have happened. And there’s absolutely nothing I can do! Am I being set up?

Ned went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He grabbed a towel and held it up to his skin, closing his eyes as if that would provide a barrier from all his cares and woes. But when he opened his eyes and put down the towel, his reflection in the mirror looked grim. “And I still have to deal with Will’s parents tomorrow,” he reminded himself. “If I get out of this one, I’m going on the straight and narrow. And I have to get out of this one. I have to.” He quickly brushed his teeth and then hurried out the door, craving the relief he’d feel after his first sip of a double scotch.

48

T he first officers at the scene checked out the area outside of Will’s office. Nothing had been dropped in the grass. There didn’t seem to be any visible footprints.

“Do you have any idea who could have done this?” one of them asked Will.

“I wish I did.”

When Mike Darnell walked into the office a few minutes later, he was shocked to see Regan. He smiled at her. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m helping Will out,” Regan answered.

“Well, this is some story. It went out over the police scanner. There are lots of reporters outside who would like to talk to you, Will.”

Will looked weary. “What am I supposed to say?”

“Some people think this whole thing might have been a prank to drum up publicity for tomorrow night’s auction.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I agree. Especially since Jimmy could have been killed today. I just spoke with him. He’s one happy guy, although he has an Excedrin headache. He asked me to keep these leis under lock and key until tomorrow night.”

“Believe me,” Will said, “I don’t want to be responsible for them. Take them with you. Bring them back in an armored car right before the auction. It’ll make my life a whole lot easier.”

“Mike, who called this in?” Regan asked.

“We don’t know. The call was made on one of those temporary cell phones where you buy a certain amount of minutes and then throw them out.”

“So whoever did it is obviously someone who planned in advance and didn’t want his calls traced.”

“That’s right.”

“It just doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this has made sense,” Mike commented. “Hey, Will, how many people around here wore yellow today?”

Will rolled his eyes. “Hundreds.”

The phone on Will’s desk rang. “It must be important if Janet put it through,” he noted as he answered it. It was his wife, Kim, calling from the airplane.

While Will was on the phone, Regan talked quietly to Mike Darnell. “I know that what I’m about to ask you has nothing to do with all this, but Jack told me that if I got something to you with someone’s fingerprints on it, you could-”

“I can. Jack called me after he talked to you. You want to check out this guy your friend is seeing?”

“Yes. It might be silly. But I just have a feeling about him…”

“No problem. If you get me something tomorrow morning, I’ll take care of it right away.” Mike looked over at the screen door. “So whoever deposited these leis in here just opened the door, then ran off. The question is, why would they risk stealing them if they’re just going to hand them over?”

Will had just hung up the phone. “Someone is out to ruin the good name of this resort,” he answered Mike. “I asked Regan to look into it this weekend and see what she could find out. People who say this is a publicity prank don’t realize that this kind of publicity is bad for the hotel. Are we happy that the leis are back and at least one of them will still be auctioned? Yes. But with an employee drowning the other day wearing the lei that was stolen from the museum, and now after it’s stolen again it ends up back here, it all doesn’t look or sound good. People are going to be afraid to set foot in this place. They’re going to think the Waikiki Waters is cursed just like the royal leis.” Will threw up his hands.

Mike looked at him thoughtfully. “I understand.”

“Now I’m really afraid of what might happen at the ball tomorrow night,” Will continued. “If someone goes to all the trouble to fool around with these leis like this, who knows what else they might try.”

“I’ll get some undercover guys to come to the ball to keep an eye on things.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Will said. “I’ll be glad when these leis are gone for good. But until then I have to worry about the security of the hotel guests and my employees.”

Mike turned to Regan. “And you thought you were coming here for a vacation?”

Regan smiled and shrugged.

“I’m heading out,” Mike declared. “Call me if you need me, Regan. Will, do you want to talk to the reporters outside?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Then I’ll make a statement that the leis are back, and we’re investigating.”

When Mike left the room, Will shut the door behind him. He sat back down at his desk and rubbed his eyes. “Regan, you know that guy?”

“He’s a friend of my fiancé’s. I met him when we were out last night.”

“You’re not going to tell him that I was the one who gave Dorinda the lei the night she died, are you?”

“No. That’s client privilege.”

Will sighed. “I have to pick up my wife at the airport. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled by all the news I have to share with her.”

“First I’d like to tell you about what I found at Dorinda’s apartment.”

“Should I cover my ears?”

“It’s not bad for you personally.”

“Miracles will never cease.” Will clenched his hands together and looked up at the ceiling as if in prayer.

“Dorinda had a file, which I have in my bag here. It’s marked ‘Prospective Dirt.’ It contains a few pictures, newspaper articles, and the last will and testament of Sal Hawkins.”

“Sal Hawkins?” Will asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“He left a million dollars to the Praise the Rain Club I told you about. Ned, whom I introduced you to before, took a couple of them surfing today. The tours are run by the two older ladies who are twins. They’re the group Otis was just talking about.”

“Did you say one million dollars?” Regan asked.

“Yes.”

Regan quickly produced the file. She opened it and pulled out the will. “It says here he left ten million dollars.”

“Ten million?” Will was aghast. “To spend on trips to Hawaii?”

“Apparently so.”

“And they’re always poor-mouthing.”

“It sounds as if they might be lying to the people in their group about how much money there is. Those weird people I met at the bar said their tour directors were cheap. Dorinda was certainly onto something with them. How long are they here?”

“Until Monday.”

Next Regan showed him a picture of Steve. “This guy has been making a play for Kit. He’s in this file, which doesn’t bode well. What can you tell me about him?”

“Steve Yardley. He comes around to the bars here sometimes. All I know is that he retired young and supposedly has a fortune.”

“Do you think he’s legit?”

“I don’t know, Regan. He’s one of those guys who gets around town. He seems to be a real ladies’ man. But I’ve noticed him talking to a lot of the businessmen at the bar.”

“There was a group picture on Dorinda’s desk taken at a party. Dorinda was gazing up at him with a big smile.”

“Dorinda gazed up at a lot of men with a big smile. If she had something on him, I don’t know what it could be.”

“Okay. How about our dear friend Jazzy? There’s a small article in here about her boss Claude’s clothing line.”

“He’s always trying to get publicity. The guy is an extremely successful businessman who now wants to be famous. He wants to be in the middle of the action. As far as I know, that’s not a crime.”

“No, it’s not. But Jazzy works for him. Who knows what she’s capable of?”

“I told you. She’s like dandruff. Wait till you see her in action tomorrow night. The guys love her. It’s hard to stomach but I think she’s harmless. Anything else, Regan?”

Regan handed him a couple of clippings about restaurant openings and parties around town. “Do these mean anything to you?”

Will glanced at them and shook his head. “They have no significance to me.” He handed them back.

Regan shut the file. “I have to meet Kit and go to dinner at this guy Steve’s house.” She paused. “One more thing. There was a young couple I spoke to on the beach last night. She had gone for a late-night walk the night Dorinda drowned. She thinks she saw something unusual but couldn’t remember what it was. She said she’d let me know. I haven’t heard from her today, but I’d like to give her a call. Problem is, I didn’t take their number.”

“What are their names?”

“Carla and Jason. They just got engaged last night. The other problem is that I didn’t get their last names, but I know they’re staying in the Coconut Tower.”

“I’ll have someone run a check on the computer. They should be easy to find.”

“Great. Are you going straight home from the airport?”

“Yes. And I’m not coming back until tomorrow. You can always reach me on my cell phone.”

“I hope I won’t have to.”

“No more than me, Regan, no more than me.”

49

“W hat are we going to do with them?” Gert asked Ev. They had taken a taxi to the airport and were waiting for a flight back to Honolulu. The airport was open and breezy and small. In spite of the unexpected development, Gert and Ev sat on a bench enjoying the beautiful evening.

“For one thing, we’ve got to come back tomorrow and get rid of them somehow, ya know?”

“Sure do. But how? We can’t ever let them talk, or else we’ll end up like those ladies in the prison movies.” Gert laughed. “I can’t believe we’ve turned into such bad girls.”

Ev looked at her. “We deserve to have some fun in life. We took care of our parents. We took care of Sal Hawkins. I’ve stepped in too many puddles in Hudville. That life is almost over. Now’s our time, sister. It’s Gert and Ev’s time to have fun.”

“I’m going to cry,” Gert sniffled. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“We’re lucky to have each other. We make a good team.”

“I never thought we’d be partners in crime.”

“Get used to it!” Ev laughed. “I’ve been thinking about those two jerks up in our house. I’m sorry they had to ruin it for themselves, I really am. And now they’re going to cost us more money running back and forth. We’ve got the flight back here tomorrow afternoon. I figure we’ll rent a car with a big trunk. Then when it gets dark we’ll get them in there and drive to the other side of the island. There are lots of places where you can just give someone a good shove and away they go, down the cliffs into the deep blue sea.”

“You’re a genius.”

“No, I’m not, sister. It’s common sense. Luckily our ma taught us all about that.”

“She didn’t teach us how to kill people.”

“There was no one worth killing in Hudville. Given half a chance I bet she could have done it in a heartbeat.”

“I suppose. But how are we going to get back to Honolulu in time for our early morning walk on the beach Sunday? The group is really going to know that something’s up if we’re not there for that.”

“We can tell them we have to go to church, to a special sunrise service that will take all morning. It’ll be our last full day, so we’ll go to the special Sunday brunch with them. And then we can say good riddance to these tour groups.”

“I just thought of something.”

“What, sister?”

“What about that couple’s car? What are we going to do with that?”

“It’s actually kind of perfect. Tomorrow you follow me in their car. We park it by the cliff. Everyone will think the lovers committed suicide for some dumb reason or other.”

“One problem, Ev.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t drive.”

“Sure you can. It’s easy. You just never got your license because you know I like to drive. That’s because I like to be in charge because I’m older.”

“Only by five minutes and twenty-two seconds.”

An announcement came over the loudspeaker that the flight to Honolulu was now boarding. The twins gave each other a quick hug, as they always did before they boarded a flight. When the plane finally took off, they looked down at the Big Island.

“Pretty soon we’ll call it home,” Gert said.

“Home sweet home,” Ev agreed.

Off in the distance, in the basement of Gert and Ev’s dream house, Jason and Carla were frantically trying to loosen the ropes around their hands. Carla was sobbing. Her chest started to heave, and the piece of torn sheet they’d tied around her mouth gagged her.

“Calm down,” Jason pleaded as he attempted to make himself understood through the sheet stuffed in his mouth. “We’ll…make…it,” he said, trying to assure this woman who, he realized now more than ever, was the love of his life. Please, God, he prayed. Let someone find us. He closed his eyes. Regan Reilly came into his mind. She was investigating Dorinda Dawes’s death, which he was now sure was a murder. I can tell you who did it, Regan. Come find us, he prayed, before those two psychos get back.

He was sure they were capable of anything.

50

T here was no denying it. Kit was in deep, deep like. When Regan got back to the room, Kit’s clothing was all over her bed.

“Regan, I can’t decide what to wear. How are things going?”

Regan explained that the leis had been stolen and then found in Will’s office.

“This place is crazy,” Kit commented as she held up yet another silk top before the mirror. “I have to find something to wear to the ball tomorrow night. When I came out here for the conference, I certainly didn’t pack a glittery outfit.”

“There’s a huge shopping center down the street,” Regan reminded her.

“I know. Steve is taking me there tomorrow. He wants to buy me a dress to wear.”

“Are you going to let him?” Regan asked cautiously.

“At first I said no, but he really wants to. You don’t think that’s a good idea?”

“Ahhh,” Regan began. She didn’t want to dampen Kit’s enthusiasm. And maybe Steve was a good guy. “It’s just so fast,” she said.

Kit sat down on her bed. “Regan, I know it sounds crazy, but I think this guy could really be the one.”

“There’s nothing I’d like better than if this worked out,” Regan replied honestly if ambiguously. She didn’t add that she thought that was a long shot.

“Wouldn’t it be great if I got married not too long after you? Then we could have kids at the same time.” Kit started to laugh. “You probably think I have sunstroke.”

Regan smiled. “I don’t think that. But being your friend, my advice is to take it a little bit slower. We both know how relationships that move so quickly have a tendency to crash and burn.”

“Regan, don’t worry. I’m having fun. I think he’s really great. But let’s face it, we’re leaving on Monday. The true test will be after that. It’s a long way to Hartford.”

Her words reassured Regan. “It is, Kit. Have fun this weekend and then see what happens.” But I’m still getting his fingerprints, Regan thought.

“You’re so lucky you found Jack. Of course your father had to get kidnapped for that to happen,” Kit joked.

Regan smiled. “My father considers himself a real matchmaker. He loves to tell everyone that story. I can’t wait until he grabs the microphone at our wedding reception. I’m sure he’ll just happen to mention it again.”

“I don’t think my father would be willing to get kidnapped to help me find a guy, but I’m sure my grandmother would.” Kit started to fold her clothes. “I can’t believe everything that’s happened to those leis. Will is lucky you just happened to be here.”

“I don’t know about that.” Regan frowned. “I just hope I can make a dent in these cases before we leave on Monday.”

“Anything new on the Dorinda front?”

“I went to her apartment with her cousin. It was interesting. There are a few things I’m looking into. I want to talk to that girl we met on the beach last night.”

“You were sure she’d call you,” Kit reminded her.

“She still might, but I don’t want to wait for that. Will is going to find out what room she and her fiancé are in so I can contact them.”

“They’re probably still celebrating their engagement.”

“You may be right. She was pretty excited.”

“I’d be excited, too, after ten years.” Kit paused. “Can you imagine if Steve took ten years to propose? I shudder at the thought.”

“Don’t go there, Kit,” Regan warned.

“I know, I know.”

“By the way, has Steve said anything about Dorinda?”

“No. The other night, at the bar, she whispered something in his ear, and he rolled his eyes. She seemed to be annoying a lot of people.”

Kit looked at her watch.

“I’ll jump in the shower,” Regan said.

A half hour later they were in a cab and on their way to Steve’s.

“You’re carrying a big purse,” Kit commented.

The better to hold something with Steve’s fingerprints, Regan thought. I might need room for a kitchen knife. “You know me,” Regan answered. “I carry my notebook and cell phone in case I have to get back to work. Will is certainly hoping that won’t happen tonight. He’s picking up his wife at the airport and needs a little peace.”

“And you deserve the night off. Regan, this is also your vacation. Let’s just have fun.”

Regan smiled at her best friend. Tonight is anything but a night off, she thought. She patted her buddy’s arm, the buddy who’d been such an important part of her life for the last ten years. “I’m sure it’ll be interesting.”

51

J azzy and Claude were in a stretch limo driving back from the airport. Claude liked to be seen in a certain light, the light that emanated from luxury cars, fine clothing, and upscale surroundings. His home on the Big Island made his heart swell, but as it turned out, that wasn’t enough. He was now trying to find the meaning of life through his Hawaiian clothing line.

As the car glided along the highway, Jazzy poured champagne for Claude and herself. They clinked glasses and sipped the bubbly, content in the knowledge that people who saw their vehicle were probably wondering who the important people riding in the back were. They pushed away the thought that if they rolled down the windows and their identities were revealed, nobody would care.

“Are you tired, Claude?” Jazzy asked solicitously.

“I work very hard, Jazzy. I was stuck on an airplane for hours. Of course I’m tired.”

Jazzy made the appropriate cooing sounds of sympathy. “Well, the ball is going to be a big success for us. I just know it.”

“I think women are going to be thrilled when they put on my muumuus. You know why? Because they’re sexy. Not too many muumuus are sexy. But I know how to design. I know what women want. And the men are going to love my Hawaiian shirts. Any word from GQ?”

“No.”

Claude scowled.

“What I mean is, not yet,” Jazzy hastened to add.

“I can’t believe they’re not interested. It would make a great story about how I, Claude Mott, will make it hip to wear Hawaiian shirts no matter where you live.”

“I know you can do it, Claude.”

“Of course I can. I thank God that those leis have been recovered.”

She clinked his glass. “So do I. It will make everything so much better tomorrow night.”

“I wonder if the discovery of the leis in Will Brown’s office will cause him trouble.”

“It can’t be good. The reports I heard on my way to the airport said the police are investigating and they have no suspects. There’s a private investigator named Regan Reilly staying at the hotel. She’s smart. I have the feeling that she’s working for Will.”

“Her name is Regan Reilly?” he asked with one eyebrow raised.

“Yes.”

“That name sounds familiar.”

“Her mother is a mystery writer named Nora Regan Reilly. She’s well-known.”

“Of course. The woman next to me on the plane was reading one of her books. No wonder it rang a bell.” He sipped his champagne. “So, Jazzy, tomorrow night you will be modeling my sexy muumuu.”

“I’ll go around to every table and make sure they all get a good look. They’ll love it.”

Claude smiled for the first time in about three weeks. “You know, Jazzy, I’ve been studying the history of great designers. They all made their mark in different ways. For me it’s about bringing the lei to the world. Leis are all over my clothing. I think leis should be worn to black-tie events in New York City. I say that everyone should have leis in their wardrobe. They should wear my clothing when they are casually dressed and real leis when they dress up. I think that is my mission in life: leis for everyone.”

Jazzy held up her glass and smiled with satisfaction. “Here’s to leis everywhere.”

They clinked glasses and sipped Dom Perignon as the limo sped toward the Waikiki Waters Resort.

52

D own by the pool, Francie, Artie, and Joy were sipping piña coladas. The hula girls were getting ready to swivel their hips, and the musicians were testing the sound system. Ned approached and took a seat.

“How’s your mother?” Artie asked.

Ned almost said “Huh?” but made a quick recovery. “She’s feeling better. Thanks for asking.”

A waitress came over, and Ned ordered his double scotch. Before she walked away, Bob and Betsy arrived and placed their orders for mai tais.

When the whole group was seated and served and sipping, Joy decided to open up the floor to a discussion of the twins. “You all know that Gert and Ev are being stingy with Sal Hawkins’s money. I say that when we get back to Hudville we ask to see his will and the accounting records.”

Bob’s eyes lit up. “You think they’re like Bonnie and Clyde?”

“What?” Joy asked.

“Bonnie and Clyde.”

“I don’t think they’re going around shooting anybody. But for all we know they could have spent the day shopping at Ala Moana Center with Sal Hawkins’s money and had everything sent back to Hudville. It’s not right. I know someone who went on one of the first trips, and she said it was fantastic. They were taking helicopter rides and sunset cruises and doing fun things that cost bucks. Now, if it cost money to go swimming in the pool, I think those two would point us to the ocean.”

Ned almost choked on the scotch that he was drinking too quickly. “Could they be embezzling funds?” he asked as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “That’s unbelievable. I know they drive a hard bargain with Will.”

“Of course they could!” Francie cried dramatically, waving her arm in the air. “They are denying us our right to enjoy Hawaii to the fullest!”

“At least we scored four tickets for the ball,” Artie announced. “Wait till they get a load of that.”

Glenn the bellman waved from the walkway.

“He’s everywhere,” Joy commented.

Ned’s central nervous system was on red alert. He took another sip of scotch. When he saw Glenn approaching, he wanted to get up and run.

“I hope you all enjoy the hula girls,” Glenn said, smiling broadly. “I know Ned has a fondness for hula girls, right, Ned? You folks should see the wild wrapping paper he had on a present he bought today.”

“I saw that paper. Can you believe he’s giving that package to his mother?” Artie laughed.

“That’s not what he told me!” Glenn smiled.

Ned tried to laugh it off. “Give me a break. The store wrapped the present.” He waved his hand dismissively.

Glenn clapped his hands once. “Well, I’ll be off. Enjoy the show!”

I’m going to kill that guy, Ned thought. He’s playing with my head.

“So,” Joy said, “are we all in this or what?”

“All in what?” Betsy queried.

“Are we all going to go back to Hudville and find out what’s up with the funds?”

Artie didn’t answer. He knew he was moving out of Hudville as soon as possible, and he just didn’t care. This Joy was annoying him. She made him feel old and uninteresting.

“Count us out,” Bob said. “Betsy and I are too busy with our literary pursuits.”

“What about you, Francie?” Joy asked.

“What worries me,” Francie began, “is that Hudville is such a small town. If we start something and the twins are innocent, we’ll look like a bunch of ingrates. Things might get a little awkward.”

“Awkward?” Artie practically snorted. “I wouldn’t want to run into Gert and Ev in a dark alley if I’d stirred up trouble for them.”

“They don’t scare me,” Joy said dismissively as she stirred her drink with a straw. “It’s something to think about.”

“Misuse of funds is very common,” Ned opined. “Power goes to people’s heads, you know? They start to think that they deserve the money.”

“Ned, where did you get your psychology degree?” Francie laughed. “You sound like you understand the criminal mind all too well.”

To Ned’s relief, at that moment the band decided to strike up, as they say. With big smiles the hula girls started to sway their hips, and their fingers fluttered through the air like little fishes. As Ned watched the scantily clad girls, all he could see was the hula girls on the paper that he had so carefully wrapped around the box of antique shell leis.

Who had their hands all over his paper hula girls and took the leis? he wondered. It had to be Glenn, he decided. Who else could it be? But why? How can I get back at him? While staring at the dancing girls he pondered the thought of just leaving town. But then what? He had no place to go.

No, I’m staying, he told himself. Glenn must be up to something, and I intend to find out what it is. He’s not going to beat me at this game.

Because I always play to win.

53

S teve’s party was better than Regan had thought it would be. There were a lot more people there than the night before, and a lively, amiable atmosphere enveloped his home. Hawaiian music was coming from the stereo speakers, the blender was whirring with tropical drinks, and the grill was sizzling with fresh ahi, ono, mahimahi, and hot dogs and hamburgers. Members of Steve’s softball team were there as well as a handful of his neighbors.

Steve couldn’t have been more charming. He was the ultimate host, introducing people, refilling drinks, supervising the dinner, and paying a lot of attention to Kit. Regan and Kit sat at a large table on the deck, eating, socializing, and having a few laughs.

I’ve never seen Kit look so happy, Regan thought guiltily as she kept an eye out for an opportunity to grab something with Steve’s fingerprints. But I’m only doing it for your own good, Kit, Regan mused. Lines from the song “That’s What Friends Are For” ran through her head. And if you’re best friends with a private investigator, there are certain drawbacks that come with the territory.

Regan was happy that Steve seemed to genuinely care about Kit. Maybe I’m wrong, she thought. Maybe Dorinda had him in her dirt file because he spurned her advances. Maybe Steve is what Jazzy proclaimed: “a good catch.”

When Regan and Kit were alone for a moment at the table, Kit turned to her. “Isn’t he great? I can’t wait for Jack to meet him. I bet they will really get along.”

“I hope so,” Regan answered.

“As we’ve always said,” Kit noted with a smile, “we’d better end up with guys who like each other.”

Regan grinned. “That would help.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Steve take a sip and then give a little shake to his beer bottle. Clearly it was empty. He started to go inside.

Now’s my chance, Regan thought. She had purposely chosen to drink the same beer as Steve. She didn’t much like it, and even Kit had commented that she was surprised Regan had a beer. But she’d made a plausible excuse about how it felt good to drink beer in hot weather, nursed it, and now her bottle was empty. Regan leaned down to grab her purse. “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. Be right back.” With the beer bottle in one hand and her purse in the other, she made her way around all the people standing on the deck and into the house where more guests were milling in groups of three or four. She watched as Steve put his empty beer bottle on the kitchen counter and then turned to talk to someone who announced he was leaving.

Regan took a deep breath. She slowly ambled past the counter, put down her bottle, and picked up Steve’s. Two seconds later she was in the hallway heading for the bathroom. She passed the bedroom where Mark and Paul were staying. “Can you believe crazy Stevie has all this? I wish I’d gotten kicked out of college,” Mark joked as he stepped out into the hallway.

Regan slipped into the spacious, luxurious marble bathroom and shut the door behind her. She carefully locked it, then put her purse on the counter. Exhaling a sigh of relief, she pulled a dark plastic bag out of her purse, dropped the beer bottle into it, and then carefully put it back inside. She combed her hair, freshened her lipstick, and figured out a game plan. Any reservations she had about checking out Steve Yardley had vanished.

Back out on the deck, she sat with Kit for a few minutes and then said, “I’m kind of tired. It’s been a long day. If you don’t mind, I’ll call a cab and head back.”

“Regan, are you sure?” Kit asked with a look of concern.

“Yes. Definitely.”

“I feel a little guilty that we’re not spending time alone.”

“Kit, it’s fine. I was working today anyway. You have fun. I’ll see you later.”

Steve came up behind them.

“Regan’s leaving. Can you call her a cab?”

Steve put his arm around Regan, his hand brushing the side of her bag which was still over her shoulder. “Aren’t you having fun?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye. He looked down at Kit. “Doesn’t your friend like me?”

Regan smiled. “It’s jet lag. I’ll go home and get my beauty sleep so I can stay up late at the Princess Ball tomorrow night.”

“We’re going to have a good time at the ball,” Steve predicted. “Kit’s going to be my princess.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss. Standing back up he looked into Regan’s eyes. “And I can’t wait to meet your prince.”

“He can’t wait to meet you, either.” More than you know, Regan thought.

Fifteen minutes later Steve escorted her outside. The cab had just pulled up.

“Have a good night, Regan.” He held the door of the car open for her. “And don’t worry. I’ll take good care of your friend.”

“She’s the best,” Regan said. “See you tomorrow night.”

“Put on your seat belt.”

“I will.”

“You can never be too safe.” He laughed as he pushed the button down to lock the back door of the vehicle.

As the driver pulled away, Regan waved to Steve who stood in the driveway and watched her depart. She then patted her purse, reassuring herself that his beer bottle was still there. Kicked out of college, she thought. Why? What else are you hiding?

54

K im stared at the spot on the living room wall where the shell lei had hung ever since they moved into the house. “Your mother will never cease to amaze me,” she declared. “Only she could get her hands on a royal Hawaiian lei that had been stolen and manage to set these events in motion thirty years ago.”

Will hugged her. “I know.”

Their son, Billy, was asleep down the hall. Will and Kim had enjoyed a quiet dinner. It was now nearly midnight. They were sitting on the couch sipping an after-dinner drink and catching up. He explained everything that had happened, and Kim actually took it quite well.

“I knew Dorinda Dawes didn’t like me. I can’t wait to see the newsletter with my terrible picture. But you were smart to leave it at the office.”

Will looked at his beautiful wife, with her long dark hair and almond-shaped eyes. They’d met five years ago when they’d both been alone on line to buy a movie ticket. On a whim each of them had decided to take in a five o’clock show. They got to talking, sat together, and from that day on they were a couple. Now, every year on the anniversary of the day they met, they always go to a five o’clock movie even if there is nothing they really want to see. He loved her and their son and the life that they shared. He never wanted to jeopardize it. But of course he had-by giving the stupid lei to Dorinda Dawes.

“Do you think your mother is really going to be able to keep her mouth shut tomorrow at the ball? How is she going to keep it a secret that the lei was in your family all this time?”

Will shook his head and rested it on her shoulder. “I don’t know. But she has to.”

“Just wait till she sees the lei, Will!” Kim exclaimed. “When it goes up for auction, she’ll be jumping out of her seat.”

“Jimmy hasn’t decided whether it will be auctioned off or not.”

“But didn’t you say he was going to wear both leis to the ball?”

“That is his plan.”

“Can you imagine when your mother meets him? Wearing HER lei?”

“I don’t want to think about it.” He snuggled closer to her. “My head is spinning with everything that’s going wrong around the hotel.”

“And now Bingsley and Almetta will be checking in.”

“I asked Ned to take care of them tomorrow afternoon. With any luck he’ll tire my mother out. Then we have to get through the ball. I hope someone buys the leis and takes them far, far away from here. Then maybe we can move on from all this trouble.”

“So this Regan Reilly is on the case.”

“Yes. She has to leave Monday, but she has already done a lot. I’m glad she’ll be here for the ball. One of the detectives in town is a friend of her fiancé. He’s sending over undercover cops tomorrow night to keep an eye on things.”

“The ‘Be a Princess’ Ball was supposed to be all about making the night a fairy tale. It’s turned into a nightmare.”

The phone on the table next to the couch rang. Startled, Will leaned over to answer it. “I hope this is nothing bad,” he said under his breath. “Hello.”

“Hi, darling!” Will’s mother cried. “We’re at the airport having a cup of coffee and a cinnamon bun before we board the flight. I can’t believe how early it is! But your father managed to find some crazy airline that flies out at the crack of dawn. I just wanted to say hello and tell you we’ll be there soon!”

“That’s great, Mom.”

“Anything new with our lei?” she chirped.

“They found it today,” Will replied, failing to mention that it was located in his office.

“Oh, my goodness! That lei certainly gets around, doesn’t it, dear?”

“That it does.”

“Don’t worry. It’s our little secret. But will I get to see it?”

“At the ball. They might auction it off.”

“I’ll have to talk to your father. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he bid on it for me? We could have it back in our family where it belongs-unless some millionaire decides to spend a fortune on it.”

That’s all I’d need, Will thought. He looked at the hook on the wall where the lei had been hanging for years. As if his mother had ESP, she said, “You could hang it right back in that lovely little house of yours. It’s too bad you don’t think there’s enough room for us to stay there.”

Will ignored the last remark. “If Dad buys the lei for you, I insist you keep it,” he said, “and I mean insist.”

His mother considered this. “Well, I did feel like a queen when I wore it. Ohhh-they’re calling us to get on the flight. Bye, darling.”

The phone clicked in his ear. Will placed it in its cradle and turned to Kim. “You’ll be happy to know your favorite mother-in-law is on her way.”

As Kim laughed, Will’s stomach started to do somersaults. He was sure they wouldn’t stop until the lei was out of his life forever, one way or the other.