A Killing in Kula (Maui Mayhem Cozy Mystery Book 2) Read online

  A Killing in Kula

  Maui Mayhem Cozy Mystery

  Aysia Amery

  ::

  Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved. Reproduction of any kind is strictly prohibited unless written permission granted by the author.

  ::

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons or situations is purely coincidental. A few places will be actual locations (some restaurants, resorts, parks, etc.), while others will be totally fictitious.

  :: Table of Contents ::

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  More from Aysia

  :: Author’s Note ::

  Many Hawaii-born locals speak in what we call ‘pidgin.’ I’ve used it minimally, if at all, but there will be some local lingo.

  In some places, I’ve also included descriptions of words in parentheses (instead of creating a glossary) so that you’re not taken out of the story to have to look it up. For example: pupu (appetizer).

  I hope you get a little flavor of the islands through my stories. Some restaurants mentioned are ones my husband and I enjoy, so hopefully these tidbits may prove useful in case you visit the islands and want to check them out. Aloha!

  :: Chapter 1 ::

  “What are you up to today, hon?” Blaine moseyed over to where thin slices of bacon sizzled and foamed, crisping to where the fat would crunch and then melt in the mouth—just the way he liked it.

  Warm lips kissed my cheek. Soon after, Blaine’s head lowered toward the skillet. With eyes closed and his nostrils flared, he inhaled a soulful breath.

  “Ahhhh,” he said as the savory aroma pervaded his senses. From his facial expression, you’d think he’d floated off to heaven.

  At that same moment, a scent stimulated my own senses. Yet it wasn’t that of the smoky pork. It was his musky aftershave that set my body to tingle and sent those titillating endorphins to run amok. Mmm, I could eat him right now instead of breakfast.

  “Well, I thought I’d go up to Kula and visit one of the protea farms. It seems a nice day for a drive upcountry.”

  My hubby looked at me as though I’d been caught in the cookie jar and denied snagging one, while evidence of melted chocolate chips and crumbs smeared my face. “Yeah, uh-huh. You just going for a visit, eh?”

  “What?” I didn’t know why he didn’t believe me. Well, okay, maybe I did.

  “You can’t fool me, Ginger. I’ve been married to you long enough to know when you’re up to something.” If he dared laugh, I’d bonk him one. “I know why you’re going up there. You’re going to Min’s Protea Farm, aren’t you?”

  My innocent wide-eyed stare struck him in the eyeballs. “Whatever do you mean, sweetheart?” A burst of laughter wanted to escape me. Okay, maybe he needed to bonk me one. Yeah, he was on to me, and I shouldn’t be surprised. He knew me so well. What can I say? For seventeen years he’s been a prisoner to my whims and wifely ways. Ha-ha.

  “So, you think there was some mischief to cause that Min guy’s death?” he asked, assuming that had to be the reason I’d be going up there. Hey, maybe I wanted to check out their protea, for gosh sakes. But alas, his assumptions were right of course.

  Besides my catering biz, sleuthing got me salivating. I think I watched too many Columbo episodes back in the day. But it was my favorite detective show! I must say, though, the first episode threw me for a loop. I thought, why the heck did they show us the murderer? How could we guess if we already knew what happened and who’d done it?

  Well, after getting over my initial disappointment, as the story progressed, oh my ukulele, it hooked me like mahimahi on a fishing pole! If you’ve seen the series, you know what I’m talking about.

  “Possibly. Just gonna see if I can get ahold of his ghost to make sure it wasn’t anything other than natural causes. Lord knows how many people get away with murder these days.”

  Seeing dead people sure had advantages with helping solve crimes. Together with the ghosts of the victims and my sister, Maile, who was also a ghost, I’ve helped my detective friend Pako solve some hard cases. He and his department wouldn’t have nailed the perps without knowing things only the ghosts would know. It sucked when a ghost didn’t see his/her killer, and in those cases Pako and I would have to use our astute sleuthing abilities to bring the perps to justice.

  Helping to do that gave me a sense of accomplishment, especially knowing that my gift was being put to good use. But what also made my spirit soar was assisting the ghosts to move on from limbo-land. I couldn’t imagine being stuck in a place where you couldn’t leave or where you had nothing to do all day and night except roam and roam. You couldn’t touch anything or talk to anyone. I’d be climbing the walls if I were a ghost.

  If only I could do the same for my sister. Help her move on, that is. But she hasn’t been able to give me enough clues to help solve her own murder. I can’t be 100% sure that’s what happened, but something niggles at me telling me it was.

  Having been with her, yet blacking out and not remembering anything that happened, eats away at me like a worm nibbling small mouthfuls by mouthfuls away at an apple. Lately, after all these years, I’ve been getting glimpses of that day but not enough to do much with it. There are no adequate puzzle pieces to form any distinct picture I can make sense of.

  “Well, be careful. You taking Jemma with you?” Blaine set plates and utensils for us on the uncluttered end of the kitchen island. We normally ate breakfast here and had dinner in the dining room.

  “No. Since we all needed a break, I didn’t schedule any catering gigs for this weekend, so she’s not coming in today for the preps.”

  “Don’t you have a wedding cake to make?”

  “I do, but I don’t need her or Reese for that. Since last week was crazy busy and they made enough money already off this month’s cakes and gigs, I figured they’d prefer this week off. They both said they did, so that was that.”

  “It boggles my mind how much you make off those things. I can’t believe people spend thousands of dollars on a freaking cake.” Blaine shook his head.

  “You’d be surprised. Wealthy people have no qualms about spending money on their special occasion. Weddings especially. They want it to be the most perfect day and talked about among their peers with awe and admiration. To have the most amazing cuisine and confections are important. The wedding cake is almost as important as their rings.” I exaggerated of course, but just slightly.

  “I doubt for the groom,” my babe, who was about to get a spatula whacked on the head, said with a snicker.

  Yes, Blaine wanted to hop on a plane and say the ‘I dos’ without all the fuss—in Vegas. Vegas! How cliché is that?

  I, on the other hand, wanted the whole big wedding shindig. Heck, it’s supposed to be the most important day of your life, aside from giving birth to your kids, that is, which I’ll never get to experience.

  As you probably guessed, I won that debate. Although, it really wasn’t something we argued about. He simply asked me if I had to have a traditional wedding, and because he knew I really wanted one, he relented quite easily.

  Blaine strove to make me happy. I
couldn’t ask for a better hubby than that. I just hoped I succeeded at making him happy too.

  And I’ll have you know, his pockets didn’t pay for the expenses, so the devil didn’t have dibs on his soul. If that would’ve been the case, then I would’ve done it his way because I’d never want a big wedding at his expense. Basically, the monetary gifts paid for everything, which had leftovers for our honeymoon too.

  Coming from a family where both my parents had more than a handful of siblings, my clan of uncles, aunts, cousins and their kids probably exceeded the population of some small rural towns.

  I had to smile when recalling Blaine’s voice whispering in my ear, saying he thought the line congratulating us was never going to end, not to mention having to go through it all over again at the end of the night when our guests were leaving.

  We had a little over 400 people attend our wedding, and 300 of them were just my relatives alone. To this day, that event was a blur to Blaine. He says all he remembers is shaking hands or hugging people for hours on end. Too funny.

  “I admit that most of the time it’s the bride who is most concerned about the wedding plans. Most women are sentimental about those things. You guys just want it to be over.” I chuckled knowing that’s exactly how he felt about it.

  “All I wanted was you, babe. I didn’t need any frills to go with you.”

  “The wedding celebration isn’t only for the bride and groom, you know. It’s also for family and friends to be able to celebrate the special occasion with you.” Okay, not sure he was buying that. “I do have to say, my heart went out to you, having to meet my entire clan in one fell swoop. It can be overwhelming, I know.”

  After high school, I had moved to California to attend a reputable culinary school there. Blaine lived in the same apartment complex I was renting, and bumping into each other in the elevator one too many times began to grow on us.

  After a while, we moved our rendezvous from that cramped space to more exciting locations. It didn’t take long before our romantic thoughts and racing heartbeats gave attention solely for each other.

  Once I got my Associate Degree and gave a year of my life to a restaurant I wanted to throw my knives at, Blaine asked if I was homesick. He could tell I was. He said he’d find a job there to be with me.

  Unfortunately, there weren’t any openings for an electrical engineer on Maui, but a firm on Oahu hired him. After a year, they opened a Maui office, so Blaine asked to be transferred, and I got to come home.

  “I still can’t remember everybody’s names at family get-togethers. I feel bad about that, but unless they wear nametags, I’m hopeless.”

  “No wonder you stay so close to my side. I almost feel like you’re my Siamese twin.”

  Blaine would whisper in my ear a ‘Who’s that?’ when names escaped him.

  “Well, I’ve gotten a lot better now than back when we were first married. It’s mostly only your cousins’ kids and their kids that I have trouble with.”

  More than half of my relatives lived on Oahu since my mom’s side were from there, so we didn’t see that side but once a year, if that. Even less now since my mom died.

  Most of my dad’s side lived on Maui, although some of my cousins couldn’t take the boredom and transplanted themselves to Oahu or the mainland. They preferred the lifestyle of a more happenin’ place where shops stayed open later than a kid’s curfew, and you were able to dine at a different restaurant every week instead of cycling through the same ones over and over, month after month.

  Being stuck on an island can be limiting. You can’t just hop in your car and visit a neighboring island or state, but...

  Maui was a wonderful place where if you enjoyed riding the waves on your surfboard; paddling your arms off in your kayak or canoe; exploring exotic tropical fish and the fascinating ecosystem of the coral reef in your snorkeling or scuba gear; going fishing for either dinner or sport; traversing the hiking trails that adventured you through bamboo forests, native trees and plants, ending at waterfalls cascading into sacred pools; views from the slopes of Haleakala or Iao Valley that took your breath away; lying on the beach, soaking up the sun; tending to your garden filled with flowers that perfumed the air with scents as sweet as a newborn baby—you’d then love it here.

  Anyway, I digress.

  So, can’t blame the hubby for not remembering names of relatives he didn’t see but on holidays or special occasions.

  “Join the club. Even I can’t remember many of those. Some of my cousins, and now their kids, pop babies out like bunnies. It’s hard keeping up with all the new additions to the clan.” I gave my hubby a smile. “You’re excused, sweetie.”

  “Whew,” he said, exaggerating a sigh, “thanks.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

  After we wolfed down our breakfast, Blaine headed off to work, while I got ready for my excursion to Min’s Protea Farm—to hopefully talk to a ghost.

  :: Chapter 2 ::

  I’ve always loved the drive upcountry. In Kula, the air’s cooler by about ten degrees than that of Kihei, where Blaine and I lived. In fact, Kula can get downright chilly at times, especially at night. Most of the homes up here I would think have fireplaces. Residents would freeze their butts off, otherwise.

  When we retire, Blaine and I will probably buy a few acres and build the home of our dreams up here. We’d be in heaven, snuggled up on the lanai as the crisp air awakened our senses, sipping hot cocoa or green tea lattes while our eyes drank in the breathtaking views of the lush green mountains and cerulean blue ocean. And during sunrises and sunsets, vibrant orange to purple hues would paint the sky like an artist’s palette.

  This would be the life, yes siree.

  From Kihei, it took around half an hour to arrive at Min’s Protea Farm. The small kiosk for wholesale customers was open. After but a few days of grieving, seemed the family conducted business as usual. That wasn’t anything uncommon; they had bills to pay.

  The Mins didn’t sell directly to the public, so their farm never swarmed with tourists or customers wanting to buy just a few cut flowers. But they let anyone tour the grounds if they wanted to. Open hours were between 10:00 a.m. – 3:00 p.m. on weekdays. Weekends and holidays they’d close.

  Instead of stopping by the kiosk, I walked around the grounds, trying to blend in with the shrubs as much as possible. I didn’t want anybody to see me conversing to the air like an insane person should Tony Min’s ghost show up.

  As I walked along the rows of bulbous protea bushes strewn across the plantation, I whispered, “Mr. Min, are you here?” with a hard breath.

  Nothing.

  I’ve encountered ghosts who only showed up where they died, while others weren’t so limited. Maile was the latter. Her apparition materialized wherever I went. I have wondered if my being with her at the time of her death might’ve caused that anomaly or if any ghost could do that yet chose not to.

  Mom’s ghost only appeared at my parents’ home. I’ve never seen her anywhere else. Even though she died in the hospital, her ghosting place was always at the house.

  If a person who died had no ghost, then my theory was that they had either moved on to a resting place where they couldn’t be seen from our dimension or their next reincarnation had their soul. Yeah, not everyone would believe in these crazy things, but I did, because not only could I see ghosts but also past lives. Yup, that was another ‘gift’—or ‘curse,’ depending on how one chose to look at it—that came packaged with the coma.

  But like I said, these were just theories because how the heck could I know where someone’s spirit went if they weren’t in limbo? I have only talked with limbo-land dwellers, so those who had moved on directly were out of my jurisdiction, so to speak.

  If Tony Min’s spirit wasn’t at rest, then I sure hoped he wasn’t only going to be available where he died. This would be a futile effort then, since I had no idea where that would be. The news said he was found on the grounds among the protea bushes
, but with the size of this place that could be like looking for a four-leaf clover in a field of them.

  Just as I was about to call out his name again, Tony Min’s ghost appeared. Hallelujah!

  He had that look on his face all the ghosts did when I summoned them.

  “Hello, Mr. Min, I’m Ginger. I know you’re surprised that I can see you, but that happened after I awoke from a coma when I was a kid.”

  He squinted his eyes as though regarding me as some kind of crook about to steal his loot.

  “The reason I’m here talking with you is because I just wanted to make sure that your death wasn’t caused by something other than natural causes. My hope is to help your spirit move on in case you’re in limbo due to being in a state of unrest.”

  His eyes now opened wide, interested in what I spoke. That’s a good sign. I just might be on to something then.

  “Do you feel that your death might not have been by natural causes?”

  His mouth moved in an effort to speak, as was typical when a ghost first tried to communicate with me. They didn’t realize that vocalizing words wasn’t an option.

  “Sorry, Mr. Min, but I can’t hear you. I can only see you, so you’ll have to communicate through pantomime, or point to things, or answer by moving your head with ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”

  This was always frustrating to both the ghosts and me, especially since they normally weren’t deaf when alive, so sign language was out—not that I knew how to sign other than learning how to finger out the alphabets.

  He bit his lip and frowned. It seemed he wasn’t fond of the options he had. I couldn’t blame him.

  “My question can be answered with a yes or no, so just nod or shake your head.”

  He probably needed to express more than just that, but we’ll tackle that later. For now, I just wanted to know if he thought he was murdered.

  He shrugged.

  “You don’t know if you died of natural causes or if somebody might have killed you?”

  He shook his head.

  Okay, wait, that answer could mean two things. I have to rephrase things better.