Honeymoon in High Heels Page 3

  She nodded, her face appropriately solemn.

  “I understand you were with him last night?” I asked, absently stabbing at a cube of watermelon on my plate. “At the time his wife was killed.”

  She paused, obviously taken a bit aback at the unusual question.

  “I’m a newlywed myself,” I explained, holding up my left ring finer. “I can only imagine what it must be like to lose a spouse.”

  Cathy nodded, her blond bangs bobbing up and down on her forehead. “Yes, we’re all very sympathetic to his situation. I was with him, the poor guy. He was heartbroken after they found her."

  Heartbroken. The same phrase the Cabana Girls had used to describe Temoe. Which brought me to my next question...

  “I understand Temoe was there as well last night?”

  Cathy paused. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no reason,” I said, stabbing at that watermelon again in an effort at nonchalance. “Don mentioned he’d likely be filling in for Aki tonight. I was just curious if I saw him dance there last night as well.”

  “Oh. I see. Well, yes, I believe I did see him at last night’s luau. But he left right after his set.”

  Bingo. So the lover had been at the restaurant, but, unlike the husband, he had no alibi for the time of the murder.

  “Well, I do hope you enjoy the luau tonight," Cathy told me. "And if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more pleasant, please don’t hesitate to ask,” she said, before turning away to visit another table.

  * * *

  After lunch I checked in with Ramirez and left him a voicemail letting him know we had tickets to attend the luau again that evening. I crossed my fingers that he’d be free and was relieved when he texted back: c u there, babe

  I spent the rest of the afternoon doing a little browsing in the local shops down the street from the resort. I picked up souvenirs for my Mom and stepdad - a pucca shell necklace for her and a set of coral cufflinks for him - and a bright, colorful muumuu for my mom’s best friend, Mrs. Rosenblatt. By the time I got back to my room, I had just enough time to shower, change, and do a quick-blow-dry-mouse-hair-spray-finishing-serum thing to tame the tropical frizzies out of my hair before the strains of ukulele music floated in the windows from the luau down the beach. I slipped on a pair of red peep-toe pumps to compliment my red wrap-dress, and made my way down the sunset-colored pathway toward the restaurant again.

  Tonight, the crowd was more sparse than the previous night, word having apparently gotten around about the death at the previous luau. I gave my name to the hostess, who let me know my party was already there, then directed me to a table where Ramirez sat watching a group of drummers on the stage.

  While I could tell he was tired, he wore the day well. The stubble on his cheeks had grown in a little since that morning, giving him a rugged air that was not just for show. His polo shirt was a little winkled, but the jeans and work boots gave it a casual look that fit the wrinkles. He looked up as I approached, and my stomach did that little flip it always did when his eyes hit mine. I wondered if this was just newlywedded bliss or if it would ever wear off. I could see myself twenty years from now still feeling the same little flip.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said, his eyes twinkling at me as he pulled my chair out for me and planted a kiss on my cheek.

  “Hey, yourself. Long time no see.”

  Some of the mischief sank from his eyes. “Sorry about that. I feel awful about leaving you alone.”

  I waved him off. I honestly hadn’t meant to make him feel bad. “No, no, it’s fine. I had a great day. Shopping mostly, which I know you would have hated anyway.”

  “Smart girl,” he agreed.

  “I’m fine,” I said again. “But I’d love to know how your day went.”

  He sighed, taking a sip of the Mai Tai I saw he’d already started without me. “About as you’d expect I guess. We interviewed the husband again, who, was, of course, pretty broken up. And we talked to the aunt. Apparently Ahlia also had a younger brother as well, but we're still trying to locate him."

  “Oh?” I asked, leaning forward. "Who's the brother?"

  “Tamaheretanero'onuiaatadon.”

  “Whoa. That’s a mouthful.”

  Ramirez grinned. “No kidding. Though, as it turns out, Ahlia’s full name is Ahliaamurapoemaamana.”

  “Kinda long to fit on a souvenir coffee mug, no?” I said as a server brought me a drink as well.

  Ramirez grinned again. “Ever practical, aren’t you, Springer?”

  “So did the aunt give you anything useful beside those incredibly long names?” I asked, taking a small sip from of my Mai Tai. I’d learned my lesson and was limiting myself to one this evening.

  Ramirez shrugged. “She said she couldn’t imagine anyone hurting Ahlia. No enemies, no unusual behavior. Though, she did mention something interesting.”

  “Oh?” I asked, leaning just that much closer.

  Ramirez nodded. “Turns out Ahlia was loaded.”

  “How loaded?”

  “A couple mil.”

  “Wow,” I agreed. “I had no idea dancers made that much.”

  “They don’t,” Ramirez explained. “Apparently she and her brother both inherited quite a bit when their father passed away a few years back.”

  “Must be nice,” I mumbled thinking of my own father, who was currently dancing as a showgirl named “Lola” in a Vegas drag club. I as much as I loved him, I had a feeling my inheritance from him would someday include a handful of sparkly garters and a Liza Minnelli record collection. “So, I’m guessing the husband gets Ahlia's millions now?”

  “We’re looking into it,” Ramirez hedged. “But remember, the husband does have an alibi.”

  Right. The pesky alibi. I had to admit, after having talked to Cathy the restaurant manager, it felt like a good one, too. She didn’t strike me as the type to lie to the police for an employee.

  I was just about to tell Ramirez that there might be a second man in Ahlia’s life when the lights dimmed, loud drum music filled the room, and the fire dancers took to the stage.

  I sat back in my rattan chair, sipping at my drink as I tried to figure out which one might be Temoe. Two of the guys were the same as last night, a third unfamiliar to me. All three looked similar - obviously native to the island, broad-chested, tanned, dark-haired. One of the two repeats from last night was clean-shaven while the second wore a small soul-patch just below his lower lip. I watched as they stomped their feet, twirled their batons, and treated the guests to a light show that was far more dangerous and exhilarating that any high tech laser show I'd seen back home. By the end I was clapping right along with everyone else and had almost forgotten the reason for my interest in the dancers.

  Almost.

  As soon as they left the stage and the lights went up, signaling the service of the first course, I quickly excused myself for the ladies room and skittered down the hallway.

  As I’d remembered from the previous night, the ladies’ room was on the right, the door to the outside on the left. I passed by both this time, continuing down the long hallway. I heard voices from the end, both men and women, all raised in excitement. At the end of the hallway sat another doorway, this one open, leading to a room filled with make-up tables and wardrobe racks. Two girls sat at tables, while the three guys I’d just seen perform were in various stages of re-dressing in street clothes.

  I paused a moment outside the room, feeling like an intruder and grasping for any plausible reason I could have for entering the dressing room to speak with Temoe. Luckily, I was saved coming up with one, as the guy with the soul patch, now clad in sweat pants and a plain white T-shirt, hoisted a gym bag onto his shoulder and headed right toward me.

  I jumped back so as not to seem like I was spying. As he passed by me, I took a chance on my fifty-fifty odds. “Temoe?” I asked.

  He paused halfway down the hall, then turned to me with a frown. “Who’s asking?”

  For once,
luck was on my side.

  “Uh, hi. I’m Maddie Springer. I left a message on your phone earlier today?”

  The frown didn’t disappear. “I haven’t checked my messages.”

  “Oh. Well, um, I was wondering if I could talk with you about some possible dance lessons?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t give lessons,” he said, then turned back around and continued walking.

  Crap. My heels clacked along the floor as I ran to catch up with him. “Uh, wow, you dance so well. Are you sure? I mean, we’d be willing to pay you,” I grasped.

  “No thanks,” he grumbled, not breaking his stride.

  I nearly tripped as I caught up to him at the door to the alleyway, warm air rushing at me as he stepped through. “Well, maybe you could recommend-”

  But he didn’t let me finish. Instead, he turned around so abruptly that we were suddenly nose to nose. “I’m off the clock now, got it, lady?” he growled.

  I swallowed hard. While he’d had an impressive physique on stage, he was even more imposing up close. The veins in his thick neck bulged, his shoulders were broad enough to block out any escape on my part, and his height towered menacingly over my own 5' 1 1/2" frame. Suddenly it felt all too plausible that this guy could throttle a woman to death with whatever he had on hand. Instinctively I took one giant step backward.

  “Right. Sure. I get that,” I managed to squeak out.

  He grunted my way, but the veins evened out some. Which I took as a good enough sign to plow ahead.

  “It’s just that, well, Ahlia said you were the best dancer at the resort,” I lied.

  His eyes narrowed instantly. “How did you know Ahlia?”

  “Oh, you know, from around,” I said, waving my hand in a purposely vague manner. “You knew her, too, right?”

  His jaw clenched. “Yeah. So?”

  “I mean, you knew her well,” I pushed. “Rumor has it you were even dating her.”

  There went those veins again, pulsating like angry beacons. “Who told you that?” he demanded.

  I swallowed hard, taking another step backward. “Oh, no one. You know. I heard it around,” I said, using the same vague phrase again.

  “Well it’s none of your damned business how well I knew her, got it?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Got it,” I squeaked again.

  "And leave me the hell alone." He punctuated that last command with another grunt, then spun around and stalked toward the parking lot.

  I let out a breath of air I didn’t realize I’d been holding as he put distance between us. So much for my fantastic interrogation skills.

  But I had learned at least one useful thing this evening. Ahlia’s husband wasn’t the only man at the resort with a temper!

  * * *

  I went back to the table and tried to enjoy the rest of my dinner, all the while my mind on Ahlia and her men. I elected not to mention my encounter to Ramirez, after all. For one, I couldn’t imagine he’d be too happy about my slipping away and sleuthing during dinner. And for another, I honestly didn’t have anything more than rumor to go on that Ahlia actually had been seeing Temoe. Okay, it was a rumor I was inclined to believe, but I knew Ramirez was more of a hard facts sort of guy. And, since my husband didn't exactly have a history of welcoming my sleuthing efforts, I decided to keep this one under wraps until I at least had something concrete to give him.

  I glanced over at Ramirez as the next course arrived. I could tell his mind was elsewhere, too. He hardly even looked at the coconut clad 'ote'a dancers tonight.

  It was dark by the time the luau ended, and Ramirez grabbed my hand, strolling slowly back to the hotel room. The moon was casting a soft glow over the ocean, the surf hitting the shore making a rhythmic sound, and my husband’s hand was warm in mine. Despite our mutual preoccupation during dinner, I felt the murder case slipping away as we walked and hopes of a real honeymoon warming me as I snuggled closer to my husband.

  That is until we hit the lobby of the resort.

  “Maddie!” a familiar voice squealed.

  I froze. Standing at the check-in desk was tall, strawberry blonde, tanned like she’d been here for weeks already.

  Dana.

  And beside her stood Marco, dressed in a pair of hot pink capri pants, a lime green Hawaiian shirt, and over-sized starlet sunglass with little pink crystals along the sides. And beside him stood about fifteen matching pink Louie Vuitton suitcases.

  I blinked. Surely this was mirage of some sort.

  “What the hell is this?” I felt Ramirez whisper in my ear.

  I shrugged. Great question.

  “Dana?” I asked, approaching the luggage explosion. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re he-ere!” she said, grinning from ear to ear, as she sing-songed the word.

  “I can see that,” I said. “What I can’t see is why?”

  “Well, this morning you said you wished I was here.... so I am!” The look in her eyes said she was clearly pleased with her surprise.

  “You know that’s an expression, right? It doesn’t actually mean get on a plane.” I paused, looking to Marco. “And bring friends.”

  But Dana waved me off. “Think nothing of it. We’re glad to help. I have a few days before my next shoot, and Marco had some vacation time from the salon saved up anyway.”

  “And as soon as Dana told me about those fire dancers in loincloths, I knew I had to see Tahiti for myself,” Marco chimed in. “I can’t believe you invited us.”

  Maybe because I hadn’t.

  I felt Ramirez shifting from foot to foot behind me, an explosion brewing. While Ramirez liked Dana well enough, and tolerated Marco well enough, I had a feeling he wasn’t any more enamored with idea of honeymoon tag-alongs than I was. Maybe less, I decided as he leaned in and growled in my ear. “You wouldn’t even let me bring my cell phone, and you bring these two with you?”

  “I didn’t bring them,” I said, vehemently. “They just... showed up.”

  “Uh-huh.” Clearly the distinction was lost on him.

  I turned to the gruesome twosome. “Look, I doubt the resort even has any rooms available on this short notice."

  “Actually,” Don piped up from behind the desk. “We do have one north-facing suite.”

  Great, he picked now to start being helpful.

  “Perfect!” Dana said, clapping her hands.

  “I’m sure it’s very expensive,” I told her. “Last minute rates and all.”

  Don shook his head. “Not really. In fact, I can get you a 10% last minute discount.”

  I shot him a death look.

  “Come on, Maddie,” Marco said, slapping me on the shoulder. “You didn’t think we’d let you investigate a murder in paradise all on your own, did you?”

  “You investigate?” Ramirez asked, narrowing his eyes.

  “Um…” I trailed off, suddenly finding my toes fascinating

  Luckily, Don saved me by jumping in with, “So, do you want the room or not?” he asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “Yes,” Dana shouted.

  “Please,” Marco added.

  “Hmph,” Ramirez grunted.

  I sighed. This was spiraling out of control faster than I could rein it in.

  “Well I guess it's settled then,” Don said, just a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice. Then added, “I’ll have a rollaway brought in,” making the clever deduction that Marco and Dana were not a couple.

  “Oh, I call real bed!” Marco said, raising a hand.

  Ramirez cleared his throat loudly. “Look, I have some work to do anyway,” he said, putting some purposeful distance between himself and the pile of pink luggage. “Why don’t I just meet you at the room later, Maddie.”

  I wanted to scream, “No!” watching my dreams of a romantic hot tub interlude for two quickly slipping away. But before I could protest, Ramirez was halfway across the lobby, and Marco had his slim arm draped around my shoulders.

  “Fabulous! So, lead
us to the Mai Tais, dahling,” he directed.

  What could I do? I led, steering them to the lounge just off the lobby.

  Days of my honeymoon gone: 2. Intimate moments spent in our honeymoon suite showing off my sexy bridal shower lingerie: 0.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “So, fill us in on everything?” Dana demanded as we all settled in with drinks at the grass-covered bar inside the lounge. Yes, I was indulging in another Mai Tai after all. I think I deserved one.

  “Yeah, I want all the gory details. Did you really find her in the alleyway?” Marco asked, wrinkling up his nose in mock disgust.

  I nodded. “I tripped over her.”

  “Ohmigod, how horrible!” he squealed. “Dish, dahling.”

  So, I dished, telling them everything that had happened from finding Ahlia’s body to finding out about her less than cooperative other man.

  “It has to be the husband,” Dana said when I was done, bobbing her head up and down so that her ponytail swished behind her. “Strangulation screams jealousy.”

  “But he’s got an iron-clad alibi,” Marco reminded her. “It’s totally Mr. Other Man.”

  “Not necessarily,” Dana argued. “I mean, the husband could have hired someone to off his wife.”

  I nodded. “Good point.” And one I hadn’t thought of. Maybe having my friends around would prove useful after all. I mean, the faster we got the murder solved, the sooner I could get to that hot tub. Three heads were always better than one, right?”

  “Ooo, or maybe," Marco said, "the husband and the boyfriend are in it together!"

  Okay, three heads were usually better than one.

  “I say we explore the husband possibility a little more," I decided. "I think we should chat with him.”

  “Haven’t the police already done that?” Marco protested.

  I nodded. “But chances are they didn’t ask the same questions we’re going to.”

  “Like. 'Who did you hire to off your wife?'” Dana said.

  I nodded. Exactly.

  Two more drinks later we had devised a strategy for approaching the husband, convinced Marco that there was no way the boyfriend and husband were in cahoots, and agreed to meet the next morning for Operation Suspect Questioning. (Hey, we named it several drinks in. No one was particularly creative at that point.)