Mayhem on the Orchid Isle (Maui Mayhem Cozy Mystery Book 3) Read online

  Mayhem on the Orchid Isle

  Maui Mayhem Cozy Mystery

  Aysia Amery

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

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  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

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  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. Aloha!

  Acknowledgments

  This story was another entry in the Inanna’s Circle writing challenge (Game #2) where this time 15 authors dived in.

  Once again we had a set of mystery box ingredients in the form of snippets, scenes, and character profiles that we had to incorporate into our stories. You can read more about it in the preface of the Inanna’s Circle: Flight of Imagination anthology listed on my Amazon Author Page.

  Thanks go out to Kat Lind and her amazing team at SIL Creative Chaos for sponsoring the game and their SCARE analysis, along with the eight beta readers (who were anonymous to us) for providing valuable feedback to help our stories shine.

  Chapter 1

  “So we’re invited to a ranch in Waipio Valley?” Jemma asked as we packed up a few culinary tools. “That’s on the Big Island, right?”

  “Yup. Sounds fun, huh?” I replied.

  The ranch was to supply us with everything we needed, including the groceries. But what I would never do was use somebody else’s cutlery.

  My chef’s knives were as personal to me as a customized katana was to a samurai warrior. If this ranch had dull knives, it would be like slicing paper-thin morsels of meat or fish with a letter opener. No way would that happen. It’s not only a pain in the okole but doggone dangerous too.

  “I’ve only been to the Big Island once, so I’m looking forward to it. Too bad Reese can’t go,” said Jemma.

  “Yeah, he would’ve enjoyed it since they’ve included us in the activities even though we’re there for work. We’ll get to go on a horseback riding tour through the valley.”

  “That is so cool, Ginger.” No sooner did Jemma say that when a naughty glint gleamed her eye. “Oh, and I’ll be giving Reese the full details of the exciting excursion when we get back. I’ll have him drooling and wishing he hadn’t missed it.”

  “You are truly evil, you know that?” I laughed, shaking my head at her naughtiness.

  “Is there any other way to live?” Jemma smiled like the Wicked Queen did when she’d given Snow White the poisoned apple.

  “Okay, we best get the menu planned so I can let them know what ingredients to buy,” I told her.

  “How many are we preparing for?”

  “Eight guests and two employees.”

  “So with us, that’ll make twelve?”

  “I’m so glad you can count.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. I should roll my eyes at her. She’s the one who asked the silly question.

  Jemma jumped as though a dart pricked her.

  “I have to get riding gear,” she said.

  “Jemma, you’re not gonna be galloping around the Ponderosa like Hoss. You can just wear jeans and walking shoes. They only recommend long pants and covered footwear. No chaps or spurs required.” I smiled.

  “Hey, you can be Hoss. I’m Little Joe. Michael Landon was cuter.”

  I shook my head.

  “Can’t I at least buy a cowgirl hat? Don’t you think I’ll look so cool in one?” I knew she was playing me as she always did.

  “Why not get a sombrero and poncho while you’re at it and make like Clint Eastwood. That’ll be even cooler, no?” I played her right back.

  “Too bad I gave up smoking. I could roll my own tobacco and strike a match on my boot.” Her wide-eyed enthusiasm had me wondering if she was serious. Nah, she couldn’t be.

  “I think giving up the emphysema or lung cancer was the better choice,” I said, half-joking and half-serious. I could empathize with anyone trying to quit that habit. It wasn’t easy.

  “Okay, so let’s get this menu wrapped up so I can go shopping.” I swear her smile went past her ears.

  If that woman showed up packing more than an overnighter, I was gonna throw her under the airplane. Helping her haul around a truckload of luggage wasn’t in my plans. For just a weekend stay? Forget that.

  Jemma better be kidding about the shopping. Sigh.

  * * *

  I’ve been to the Big Island a few times. Certainly more than Jemma has. But that didn’t happen until I was in my thirties. Funny how we can live all our lives somewhere and take things for granted.

  Out of the other visitable Hawaiian Islands, my toes have never wiggled in the sands of Molokai yet. One day Blaine and I will have to do that trip unless a gig takes me there.

  “How long is the drive from Hilo to Waipio Valley?” Jemma asked as the clouds still blanketed the view below us.

  “About an hour and a half.”

  “I hope they’ve got a comfortable, air-conditioned car,” she said.

  A flight attendant held out a trash bag, and Jemma threw her empty juice cup into it.

  “I suppose hitting the resort shops are out.”

  “This isn’t a vacation, Jemma.”

  Jemma preferred shopping to sightseeing. Me? I’d choose gallivanting through the rural areas where the landscape took my breath away any day.

  The splendor of the lush green valleys and cliffs overlooking bays with black sand beaches taunted by the cerulean ocean kissing their shores, sometimes with rolling white-foamed peaks and at other times with tender caresses—yes, that was what got my adrenalin pumping and my spirits to soar high.

  I did love indulging at foodie cafes and restaurants though, so there’s that. But driving along the Hamakua Coast with the wind messing up my hair, gasping at the grandeur of nature’s magnificence, was fine by me.

  Once the plane punched through the clouds, my eyes cast upon the desert landscape below. It always amazed me how vast and barren the Big Island was. There was more land than could ever be developed.

  My gaze followed the blackened tar-looking paths of the past lava flows as they snaked their way from the volcano to the sea.

  The historical flows ranged from 1851 to 1984. And as of today, the Kilauea Volcano has erupted continuously since 1983. Blaine and I will have to make that trek one day to witness the lava flowing into the ocean. What a sight that must be.

  After the plane touched down, and having retrieved my knives from baggage, Jemma and I headed out to the curbside.

  A man in khaki cargo shorts and a coffee-colored t-shirt held a sign with my name on it. He looked in his late twenties. His smiling white teeth
greeted us, and he introduced himself as Evan.

  Taking hold of our bags, he led us to where he had parked his black Jeep Cherokee. We hopped in and were on our way.

  To make a long journey short (since the non-stop drive from Hilo wasn’t exactly filled with adventure), the road into Waipio Valley was a single-lane 45-degree angle of harrowing steepness. Only a 4x4 could make this trip, and in low gear, I might add.

  Once we reached the bottom, Evan drove us through wet unpaved roads, and even over a running stream. It was quite an experience; one for which I was glad to be a passenger rather than the driver.

  “Oh my god. I need a Dramamine,” Jemma said as she white-knuckled the handle strap above her door and wobbled to and fro. With Jemma’s full-figured G-sized boobs, she also jiggled.

  I had to laugh. I wondered what riding a horse would do to her.

  Other than the rocky ride, the scenery was stunning! Enormous cliffs, thousands of feet high, majestically bookended the beach bay below. I inhaled the raw greenness that scented the air like freshly cut grass after a rain. I loved that smell.

  “We’re here,” Evan said as the engine’s rumble quieted to a purr. A few crackles and hisses managed to escape before the car drifted into its slumber.

  I couldn’t wait to stretch my legs after that long ride.

  As I exited the vehicle, I regarded the two-story plantation-style ranch house that stood before us like an aging actress on stage for hours under sweltering spotlights. It seemed to have good bones though. The architecture brought to mind the home in that 70s television series The Waltons.

  “Ainalani Ranch,” I said aloud yet to myself as I read the welcoming sign above the front porch. In Hawaiian, aina was ‘land,’ and lani meant ‘heavenly.’

  I heard a whinny.

  Unless Jemma had nasal congestion, I figured the horses were close-by.

  My eyes veered left to the stables, and sure enough, sleek, muscular-legged creatures from shiny black to dark and light brown chocolate to albino white came into view. They were gorgeous.

  As Evan grabbed our bags, I noticed there weren’t any other vehicles. Either Evan or another hand chauffeured the guests here as they did us, or perhaps the others hadn’t arrived yet.

  I wondered what would happen in case of an emergency. Just like me to go there right now.

  I checked my cell phone.

  Dang. No service.

  “Jemma, does your cell phone show a connection?”

  She pulled hers from her purse. “Nope.”

  Great. I hated not having cell phone service. We’ve become so dependent on it for everything—emergencies being one of them. They must have a landline here, so we’d have to use that if we needed to.

  Evan led us up the porch steps into the house.

  Inside, it was cozy. At least there’d be warmth from a fireplace should the night air chill. Two sofas sat across from each other with a koa coffee table between them. A few recliners nestled here and there. Pictures of paniolos (Hawaiian cowboys) on horseback deco’d the walls.

  “Aloha,” a woman’s voice greeted us.

  I turned to look in her direction. She smiled.

  “Hi,” I said. “Are you Kat?”

  “Yes. You must be Ginger?” She looked at Jemma. “And you’re...”

  “This is my assistant Jemma.”

  Jemma gave Kat her friendly smile but no flash of teeth.

  “You’re the first to arrive. The guests will be here in the next few hours. That’ll give you time to get settled and prepare what you need for tonight’s dinner.”

  “Yes, it’ll be great if we could freshen up,” I said. “But we’ll have everything ready on time for tonight.”

  “I have no doubt about your capabilities.”

  I smiled my thanks.

  “Evan will show you to your quarters. You’ll be sharing a room closer to where I’m rooming. It’s separate from the guests.”

  I guess the client considered us workers after all. I was fine with that. As long as they didn’t put us in the stables.

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  “When you’re ready, I’ll show you where the kitchen is, and you can make sure we got all the ingredients you asked for. We double-checked the list so you should be good to go.”

  Kat sounded like an organized, ‘in control,’ and capable person.

  I decided to avoid touching people this gig because I didn’t want to see any past lives on this trip. The flashes always took a bit out of me. Since my touch had to be for more than a few seconds, at least I could control it to some extent.

  Seeing people’s past lives was a kick most of the time. Getting a glimpse of who they were in another life led to knowing a little bit about them in this life. Their past life usually had a trait similarity or connection.

  “Thanks, Evan,” I said as he dropped our bags to the floor next to our beds.

  He gave me a nod and left.

  “What do you think of this place?” Jemma asked as we hung our clothes in the closet and tucked our undies and jeans into drawers.

  “It’s kinda cool. I’ve never stayed at a ranch before, so it’ll be a fun experience.”

  “Me too.” Then she looked at me as though she’d lost her puppy.

  “What?” I asked, wondering why the change in mood.

  “Did you bring a blow dryer?”

  “For crying out loud, Jemma, we’re not at a luxury resort. We’re out on a ranch with smelly horses and manure scattered everywhere. Nobody is gonna care about your perfect hair.” Even though I admonished her, I cracked up inside. “You always look good anyway, so stop worrying.”

  “So I take it that’s a no?”

  Gah! Too late to trade her in for Reese. Sigh.

  Chapter 2

  Out back of the kitchen, Kat took us to a small carport-like area. Crates and baskets set on two long wooden tables refuged an abundance of freshly picked fruits, vegetables, herbs and home-baked bread. I thought we might be in an Iron Chef challenge. There were enough ingredients here fit for a wedding banquet.

  I opened the outdoor fridge to find the seafood and meats I had requested. Everything seemed as though it had been caught or butchered that morning. What they brought here amazed me.

  “Is everything to your liking?” Kat asked. She had to know by my smiling face that it was.

  “Yes, more than you know,” I said. If only my vendors back home gave me this kind of service. Not always did they provide the freshest batch.

  “Good. I’m happy to hear that.” Kat seemed pleased with herself. She should be if she spearheaded this spread.

  “I’ll gather the guests in the dining area at six o’clock for dinner service. Will that be enough time for you?” she asked.

  “Yes, I got your schedule, and we’ll have everything good to go.”

  “Great. If you need anything, either Evan or I will be around, so just let us know.”

  “Are there only two of you running this entire ranch?” I would be surprised if that were the case.

  “Yes. We take care of everything here.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot of work for only two to handle.”

  “We manage quite well, actually. We’ve been doing this for a long time, so it’s like second nature to us.”

  I could relate to that. Doing something over and over and for most of your life becomes robotic after a while.

  Of course for me, creating new dishes wasn’t as monotonous as a daily routine. I preferred that anyway. Wouldn’t want boredom to consume me.

  “I’ve gotta get ready for the guests, so I’ll leave you to your task.” And with that, she went back into the house.

  “Holy spread,” Jemma said. “Can we use all this food?”

  “I’m sure some of it will be for the guests to snack on as is. There’s way more fruit and veggies here than we need for our dishes.”

  “Yeah. With twelve people, everyone will pack the fruit away by the end of this weekend.”


  “I’m sure you’re right,” I said, my eyes still panning over the feast fest.

  I took the menu out of my pocket. As I unfolded it, I said, “Okay, Jemma, you ready to roll?”

  “Well, I’m not here to bale hay, so I guess so,” she answered.

  I shined her a smile. “Let’s get to it then.”

  * * *

  All the guests had arrived, and at six o’clock on the dot we had everything ready to go.

  The dining room table seated twelve people. It wasn’t anything fancy, and was rather plain actually, but fit well with the ranch-style setting.

  Kat and Evan didn’t join their guests and instead helped us with refilling water and pouring wine.

  Every guest on this table seemed between forty and sixty. One or two might’ve been in their early sixties, but it was hard to tell. The military-looking guy with the crew cut and the woman with the long, straight black hair looked the youngest of the bunch.

  While we served the pupus, the guests started in on conversation.

  “I presume everyone here got an invitation like I did,” said the man with graying temples and a round-tipped nose. “Are you all here for the lottery of this prime piece of property?”

  “Yes, I got the same invitation,” the younger woman said.

  Others affirmed with a ‘yes’ or an unspoken nod.

  “Looks like we’re all here for the same reason,” the beefy crew-cut guy chimed in. Oh my, he seemed to have a case of the red eye. He had brilliant blue eyes, but the bloodshot one stood out like Rudolph’s nose.

  “Is the owner going to join us at some point?” the jovial man whose smile seemed painted on his face asked. He directed his question at Kat who stood across the table refilling a glass.

  Hmm, he scraped the tobiko (fish roe) off his sushi.

  “No, the owner won’t be here. They’ve given me instructions for this weekend,” Kat replied, holding the pitcher of water with one hand while sliding her other hand underneath it.

  “Why wouldn’t the owner be here for such an important transaction?” the gray-templed man asked.

  “They couldn’t attend for health reasons,” Kat said.

  “Are they dying?” That came from a woman with short brown hair that curled around her ears.