Too Hot Four Hula: 4 (The Tiki Goddess Mystery Series) (19 page)

“If I was younger I’d be tempted to go after him myself.” Flora hiked up her bra straps.

“I don’t think so. I think they know something about the Booze Bible, but they haven’t found it yet. The competition really heats up tomorrow. Louie will be sunk without it,” Kiki said.

“Is there anything we can do?” Precious fluffed the wide ruffle around the top of her muumuu.

“We’ve tracked down murderers before,” Big Estelle said. “Seems like we ought to be able to find a three-ring binder.”

“We can’t do anything until we have something to go on. Then you bet your sweet
okole
we’ll snap into action,” Kiki assured them.

The Maidens nodded in unison. Kiki waved to Trish, who quickly said goodbye to a Japanese photographer and came walking over toting her camera gear.

“What’s up?” she said.

“Em’s keeping a secret,” Precious filled her in. “They haven’t found the Booze Bible.”

“Uh, oh,” Trish said.

“Em asked if we could put that rent-a-monkey back in its cage for Louie,” Kiki told them.

“Dead or alive?” Big Estelle snorted.

“Us or the monkey?” Precious doubled over laughing.

“This is no laughing matter. I have the scars to prove it.” Kiki flashed her scabby bald spot at anyone who would look.

She glanced over at the Kamakanis. Em was right. The wooden calabash was full of money. The musicians owed her. She motioned for the girls to follow as she headed toward Bryron.

By now there were at least forty people gathered around them on the grass at the entrance to Hilton Hawaiian Village. The bright orange double decker Waikiki Trolley had just pulled up on the corner. Spotting a crowd, disembarking passengers hurried over to see what was going on. When the crowd around them suddenly doubled in size, Kiki knew they had better get moving before the hotel management came out and got on her case again.

“Dance for us, Hula Maidens!” a woman shouted. “We came all the way from Illinois hopin’ to see you dance.”

Kiki sighed. “Gotta keep the fans happy,” she told the others. “Line up, girls. We’ll do one more number.”

Lillian, Precious, Big Estelle, Flora, and Trish lined up on the grass. They left a spot in the middle open for Kiki.

“What you wanna dance?” Byron asked Kiki.

She scanned the crowd. “How about ‘Lovely Hula Hands’?” Then she called out to the gathering, “We’ll dance if you’ll sing along!”

Everyone cheered. The Kamakanis started strumming. The Maidens started dancing. The tourists sang.

Halfway through the song, Kiki spotted two Hilton security officers on bicycles circling the edge of the crowd. Byron noticed too and picked up the tempo. By the time the officers negotiated their way through the ring of tourists, the musicians hadn’t wasted any time folding up their beach chairs and closing their coolers.

“You folks are going to have to take this show somewhere else.” The youngest of the two security guards was smiling as he added, “We don’t want any trouble, auntie.”

“No worries,” Kiki said. “We don’t either. We’re outta here.”

Byron picked up the calabash. It was full to the brim with five, tens, and twenties. Loose change clanked in the bottom of the wooden bowl.

“Pretty good tips,” Bryon said.

“Stick with us.” Kiki smiled and gave him a wink. “By the way, we’ve got real treat for you gentlemen. Have you ever seen a Capuchin monkey up close?”

28

EM AND ROLAND negotiated sidewalks jammed with tourists, a smattering of locals weaving their way through the throng, and solicitors handing out flyers for various businesses and time-share freebies. Visitors hurried along, intent on seeing, doing, and buying everything paradise had to offer.

They reached the Moana where bellmen and valets in cream-colored uniforms extended greetings of aloha to guests pouring out of cars, taxis, and limos beneath a towering porte-cochere supported by stark white Ionic columns.

“I can’t go in there. I’m underdressed.” Em glanced down at her white capris and black tank top, her woven purse and rubber Locals slaps, and balked. She wished she’d at least put on a sundress.

“It’s a hotel. You’ll see everything inside, believe me.”

Skeptical, she watched another limo unload. “These people are all dressed up.”

“Mainlanders. They just got here,” he said. “Let’s go.”

She felt his hand riding the small of her back, urging her on as they walked up the sidewalk to the front steps. When Em saw the hotel’s front lanai lined with rocking chairs she wanted nothing more than to sit down, watch the world go by, and forget about what happened to Phillip, at least for a few minutes.

They stepped inside the classically Hawaiian interior of the lobby with its polished
koa
wood tables, plush Oriental carpets, and two long rows of Ionic columns. There was a view from the front doors straight through to the courtyard and the sun glittering on the ocean beyond.

Roland pointed out a family of six decked out in swimwear as they trooped through the lobby. The kids toted towels and sand toys. The mother was in a lace beach cover-up that didn’t cover enough.

“Told you anything goes.”

Em relaxed a little and watched the beachgoers walk past another Japanese wedding party. The bride, groom, attendants, and family headed through the lobby and disappeared down a long hallway.

“See Felicity anywhere?” Roland asked.

Reminded of their mission, Em looked around as they slowly walked out to the courtyard.

“I don’t see her.”

“What does she look like?”

“In her late twenties, a little taller than me, porcelain skin, no sun damage, blond hair, pert nose, enhanced lips,
very
perky breasts. She’ll be wearing upscale resort wear and sandals that cost more than you make in a week.”

“Got it.”

More rocking chairs were lined up on the wide back lanai overlooking the courtyard, pool, and the ocean. Most of them were occupied.

“Wow, this is amazing.” Em didn’t know how else to describe the view or the huge banyan tree that shaded the entire courtyard.

A host standing near the entrance to the Beach House restaurant overheard.

“Hey, bra,” he greeted Roland one local to another. Roland nodded.

The host told Em, “That banyan tree was planted in 1825. Robert Louis Stevenson did a lot of writing under there.”

“No kidding?” Em gazed up at the wide canopy of leaves and branches, the dappled sunlight streaming through. She thanked the host for the information, and when she and Roland walked by the massive trunk of the tree formed of rooted vines, she paused to touch it.

“I can’t remember what he wrote,” Roland said. He wasn’t focused on the tree. He was scanning the poolside lounge chairs.

“Felicity won’t be in the sun,” Em told him. “Her lips might melt.”

He turned his attention on her, and Em forgot what she’d been talking about.

“So what did Stevenson write?” he prompted.

“
Treasure Island
,” she said. “I think
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
, too.”

“Saw the movie. Come on, I’m starving.”

They found an empty table at the Beach Bar which was next to a low retaining wall that held back the sand. As they sat down, Em heard the call of a conch shell and turned to watch one of the crew of a huge yellow surf-riding catamaran blow the shell again. He waved swimmers away from the craft as it drifted toward the beach to offload and pick up more tourists.

While Em people watched, Roland scanned the menu. When their waitress arrived he ordered a
loco moco
and iced tea and handed Em a menu.

“You really are starving,” she said.

“Those breakfast muffins wore off hours ago.”

An hour ago she didn’t think she’d ever have an appetite again. Looking over the menu she quickly decided on an arugula and papaya salad with orange ginger dressing and iced tea. She kept the menu to study the tropical drink offerings.

“Beach Bar,” Em said. “They sure put a lot of imagination into the name.”

“No matter what they call it, folks probably just say let’s meet at the beach bar anyway.”

“You’re right.”

She scanned the tropical beverages and found it typical. The hotels and resorts tried to outdo each when other naming drinks and dishes. The “Vanilla Refresh,” “Hawaiian Sun,” “Day at the Beach,” and a host of other cocktails were all variations of liquor, fruit juices, and an occasional splash of coconut.

“These drinks don’t hold a candle to Louie’s. Most of his were inspired by actual events in his life. There’s a legend to go with every drink he ever created.” She closed the menu and pushed it away. “It’s all recorded in the Booze Bible.”

“There’s a chance we’ll still find it.”

The waitress delivered ice teas and assured them their orders were on the way.

“You really think we’ll get it back?”

“For your uncle’s sake I sure hope so.”

He leaned back and focused on the guests walking on the hotel lanai. Em figured they had as much chance of finding the notebook as spotting Felicity. She turned her gaze to the ocean and the backdrop of Diamond Head.

The gently rolling waves never stopped. Staring at them was so relaxing that eventually her breathing slowed, and a sense of tranquility washed over her. She could never dismiss the horrible truth of what had happened to Phillip, but sitting there beneath the ancient tree watching the surf and listening to its steady rhythm, she was reminded of the order of things. Just as the surf constantly rolls in and out, life goes on.

The waitress arrived with their orders. Em stared at Roland’s
loco moco
: a side of ground beef molded into a patty nestled on a mound of rice and topped with grilled Maui sweet onions, a poached egg, and then the whole mountain was smothered in red wine gravy. She could tell Roland couldn’t wait to dig in but was politely waiting for her, so she took a bite of her salad.

“You should have just ordered a heart attack on a plate,” Em said.

“When she comes back I’ll ask if they keep a defibrillator under the bar.”

“So do you have a plan?” Em pushed her salad around.

“Other than the defibrillator? We get good health coverage.”

She rolled her eyes. “I meant a plan to solve the murder. If the HPD can’t find Felicity, what makes you think you can? What are you going to do?”

“Talk to someone at reception, make sure she really is still registered here. She may have checked out by now.”

“They’ll tell you that?”

“If I flash my badge at the manager.”

“If she’s a woman, all you have to flash is your smile.”

“Mahalo.” He flashed it at her.

“It still works.” Suddenly she was melting from more than the heat.

“Just testing.”

He focused on his lunch, and when he was through he signaled for the check. Em had at least finished eating all the papaya out of the salad.

They headed for the reception area at the far end of the lobby near the elevators. Check in was at three. Since it was nearly that time, guests were queuing up. There were tourists and locals alike lined up. The Moana was a
kama’aina
favorite.

Roland asked to see the reception manager. A clerk picked up a phone, and a minute later a door opened in the wall behind the reception clerks, and a young Japanese American woman stepped out.

Roland flashed his badge and asked to speak to her in private. Em followed them into an office hidden near the reception desk. He told the young woman he needed to know if Felicity Duncan and Phillip Johnson were still registered as guests and took out his pocket-sized spiral notepad.

The manager turned to her computer screen, clicked a few buttons, and then said, “Yes.” Then she paused, studied the screen before she went on. “They had a suite together until yesterday. Mr. Johnson’s credit card was refused when the daily fee was automatically charged. We asked him to come down and put a valid card on file at ten a.m.”

“You spoke to him at ten yesterday?” Roland glanced over at Em.

It was around ten when Phillip delivered the extortion letter to the Hilton front desk.

The manager squinted at the screen. “Actually, we texted him then. He wasn’t in his room.”

“When did he come in with a valid card?”

“He didn’t. Ms. Duncan settled up his charges and said he was checking out, but she stayed on.”

“When was that?” Roland’s pen was poised over his notepad.

She glanced at the computer. “That afternoon. The change was made at four thirty. Ms. Duncan is still here as far as I know.”

Em wanted to ask Roland why the HPD didn’t know that, but not in front of the manager.

“Is there a pending check out date?” he asked.

“Day after tomorrow. Would you like to leave her a message?”

“No thanks. We’ll get in touch with her.” Roland thanked the clerk.

When they came back around the reception desk one of the bellmen greeting incoming guests walked up to Em and slipped a purple orchid lei around her neck.

“Aloha and welcome to the Moana,” he said.

“Oh, I’m not a guest.” Em started to take the lei off.

“No worries. Keep it.” He smiled.

She thanked him and caught up with Roland, who was waiting a few feet away near the concierge desk. They walked along a few more steps.

“What now?” she asked.

“We’ll hang out here in the lobby for a while if that’s okay.” He picked up a copy of the
Honolulu Star-Advertiser
. “Watch for Ms. Duncan to walk in.”