Something's Rotten in Paradise (Maui Mayhem Cozy Mystery Book 1) Read online

  “Seriously?”

  That is too funny.

  “Seriously. I had to explain that the two balls on the sides were flared nostrils, and the tip was like Karl Malden’s. I once saw an old movie with him in it, and I couldn’t get my focus off his nose. Now, even till today, everywhere I go my eyes zoom in on noses, looking for those peculiar ones. There are a lot of funny noses out there, but I haven’t yet found one quite like Karl’s.”

  Jemma was a crack-up.

  “I didn’t realize you had a nose fetish.”

  Her shoulders shrugged.

  “Are you turned on by it? Because if you are, now THAT is kinky,” Reese chimed in.

  “NO!” she said with the vehemence of a prudish woman told to strip. If Jemma were standing next to Reese, she probably would’ve smacked him one. “My kinks are not about noses. Trust me on that. In fact, that whole expelling scene was rather traumatic. I really thought they were going to kick me out of school.”

  “Seems school didn’t do you no good anyways, so I doubt it would’ve been a big deal.” Reese snickered. Oh man, he was going to get it now.

  “Uh, I was gonna ask you to leave me some of this delicious food you’re making, for my dinner tonight, but after envisioning Jemma’s description of her artwork, I think I’ve lost that feeling.” Blaine probably said that with the intention to deflect the brawl that might’ve ensued between my assistants.

  My hubby frowned. His expression was as adorable as an attention-seeking puppy. Blaine had that boyish charm that I always loved about him. If Jemma and Reese weren’t in the room, I’d throw him to the ground and...and...okay, enough of that fantasy.

  “Jemma, don’t ever try to paint nude portraits. I would hate to imagine how you’d depict an actual penis.”

  Reese, you’d better stay your distance when Jemma’s got that knife in her hand.

  “I might have gotten better, you know. Wanna be the model?”

  “I’d rather be a eunuch.”

  I nearly choked on my spit. “Reese, ever since I told you about your past life, you’ve been pretty freaking obsessed about it.”

  “Well, it traumatized me. Especially after you mentioned that you believe we have something to learn from our past lives, and maybe need to resolve an issue in our later lives. That totally freaked me out. I DO NOT ever want to be castrated! I love my puppies.” He actually put his hands over his fly as if to protect his jewels.

  “I hear you, buddy,” Blaine said in support. “No guy can say the ‘c’ word and not shudder.”

  “Okay, I don’t even know how we got onto this subject, but let’s get back to work before I have to offer beans and wieners for dinner.”

  “Wieners.” Reese shook his head with a ‘tsk, tsk.’ “Your mind isn’t pure, Ginger.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud, Reese. I wasn’t thinking like that. You’ve gotta get past your dick. Seriously.”

  Inside I was cracking up. I probably should never have told Reese about that particular past life. But I honestly didn’t think he’d freak out that way. Oh well, can’t undo it now. On second thought, maybe I should crack him over the head with a rolling pin and pray for amnesia.

  I’ve gotta stop thinking these thoughts.

  “Okay, I’m off. Have fun, ladies and gent. I’ll leave you to do your dirty work. Leave me a little something, will ya, sweetie?”

  “How fast you forget your aversions.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. I was glad though that Jemma’s picture painting wore off on him. “I was going to leave you some, anyway. You know I always take care of my man.”

  My babe kissed me lightly on the lips. Nothing juicy; we had an audience. Blaine was pretty conservative that way. We both were. Behind closed doors we got frisky all right, but in public, even among just friends, we didn’t display affection past a G-rating. And a good thing too, because I didn’t need any more ‘kinky’ comments from the Peanut Gallery.

  Blaine gave me a love pat on the butt before he left. Okay, strike the G-rating and make that PG. But I swear that was as far as we went.

  “I gotta find me a man like that,” Jemma said as she chopped celery.

  Reese creamed the butter. “If I were gay, I’d say the same.”

  The chopping block went silent. “You mean you aren’t gay?”

  Reese gave her the stink eye. “Shut up, Jemma.”

  My vivacious redheaded friend shot me a sassy wink and resumed her task.

  I smiled and shook my head.

  Yup, that’s my crew.

  * * *

  For some reason, things took a little longer than expected. It didn’t help that the heavy cream I wanted to use for the sauce went sour, causing me an emergency run to the store. It must’ve been in a contaminated batch because I had just bought it a couple of days ago.

  Sigh. We were probably going to be late. My stomach turned at the thought. I was a fanatic when it came to being punctual; it was a pet peeve of mine. I called Jemma and Aku anal, but I was probably the most anal-retentive of us all.

  Anyway, after we packed everything inside the back of my minivan, I turned the key. The engine gurgled, then purred, ending in a wimpy sputter. Blaine told me to turn this puppy in for a new one. Yes, it was getting on in years, just like the rest of us, but I thought it had a decent amount of mileage in it to hang on to. Obviously I was wrong. It was on its last legs after all.

  Okay, one more time. C’mon, girl, don’t do this to me now.

  As if she heard me and didn’t want to disappoint, the engine caught instantly this time with a beautiful rumble.

  “Thank god!” I cried. My foot slammed on the pedal, spinning the wheels, launching us like a cannonball out of the driveway.

  “Whoa! Hang on to your seats!” Reese cried out. I glanced in the rearview mirror to check on him. His hands were outstretched and grasping in every direction for dear life.

  “Sorry!”

  Yes, I’m told I’m an aggressive driver. Funny, when in the driver’s seat, I feel so ‘in control’ that I can’t figure out why my passengers end up sweating profusely, white-knuckling the dashboard, and stomping on invisible brakes.

  Jemma’s the opposite. A slug travels faster than she drives. But I can’t blame her for her lack of confidence in the motor vehicle department. During her freshman year in college, an accident she caused nearly did her in.

  She spent months in the hospital with her leg hoisted up in traction, and according to her, it was far from lady-like. It took a while, but after rehab she didn’t even limp. But the scars she suffered most from weren’t visible. That incident left a traumatizing mark in her psyche that she couldn’t erase, nor shake.

  But honestly, my passengers were exaggerating. I really wasn’t as bad as all that. I swear.

  Reese met my reflected eyes. “Just hope the food isn’t chop suey now.”

  “You gotta get a new minivan, Ginger,” Jemma said, her eyes sympathetic, as though telling me to pull the plug on a dying friend.

  “I know, I know. After this gig. I promise.”

  Well, that settled it. Even my friends knew I had to put my poor girl to sleep. They’ve traveled enough times in this baby to sense her waning heart. Oh well, nothing lasts forever.

  We made good time from Kihei to Maalaea. With no traffic and my ‘good’ driving, it took a little under ten minutes.

  When we got to the harbor, the catamaran was already waiting for us. Two crewmen helped bring our containers of stuff on board.

  Maalaea can get fairly windy at times, and today was no exception. My long black hair whipped around my face like a swarm of bees, so I gathered it together and twisted it to one side, holding it within a hand. I made my way to a foam-cushioned seat, with Jemma next to me and Reese sitting opposite. As soon as we were nestled in, the catamaran set sail.

  As we made our way to the island of Lanai, we caught sight of spinner dolphins frolicking in the waves. My jaw always dropped no matter how many times I saw these ocean wonders.
Humpbacks were more prevalent to catch sight of during the season, so it was a real treat to witness the acrobatic antics of these amazing creatures. I could watch them for hours.

  Jemma and Reese took out their cells and snapped photos. There was no slowing this catamaran down for touristy endeavors, though, so we left the entertainment behind us pretty quickly.

  When we finally touched ground on the shores of Lanai, we were taken to the Duboit home up on Palawai Ridge. The homes up here were going for four million. With breathtaking ocean views overlooking Hulopoe Bay and Sweetheart Rock, it would seem like heaven to live here.

  We were greeted by a stoutly middle-aged housekeeper who led us to the kitchen area. Our containers and overnight bags were brought in by the help.

  “Some people have just way too much money,” Reese said.

  “Well, you make a damn good income with your timeshare gig, and if you stopped gambling it away, you might be able to do something more productive with it. Invest it or something,” Jemma scolded.

  “Gambling is a profession like any other,” was his rebuttal. “I’d make that my full-time job if I could.”

  “Oh, is that right?” My spirited assistant wasn’t about to let her sparring partner off the hook. “Well, my advice would be to pick a new profession because you really suck at it, Reese. When was the last time you left Vegas in the black?”

  Reese played poker and shot craps. He had a friend who worked at a casino in Vegas, who gave him comp rooms on every visit. The cost of the room was minuscule compared to what Reese lost at the tables. Making him feel important by giving him a free room and a few comped meals ensured he gambled away his money there. What a racket.

  I wasn’t about to get in the middle of this debate, and busied myself with my tasks. But my ears tuned into their conversation like a submarine’s sonar.

  I felt for Reese, and I’m sure he knew Jemma was right, but he was addicted. Curing him of that addiction wasn’t going to be easy. As Jemma said, if he invested what he made selling timeshare into real estate, or at least something with a better chance of a return, then he could one day be as wealthy as the Duboits.

  When he didn’t answer her, Jemma added, “If you’re going to gamble, why don’t you try your hand at blackjack? You might have a better chance at winning, especially if you follow a system of rules. Those rules tell you when to hit, when to stand, when to double down, and split. There are at least better odds in that game since it can be pretty mechanical if you follow the rule system diligently.”

  Reese raised his eyelids so high, you could see the whites of his eyeballs completely around his dark brown irises. He stopped spooning out the tobiko (fish roe) and stared at Jemma.

  “Since when do you know so much about blackjack? For someone who admonishes me about gambling, you sure know your way around a card game.”

  Oops, she was outed. No matter how long you’ve known a person, there were always juicy little tidbits about them that snuck up and bit you in the okole (butt).

  “Yeah, okay, I studied it a while back when I was a Vegas addict too. I don’t go anymore. I got that out of my system. Plus, once you start counting cards and they’re on to you, you’re banned from the casinos,” Jemma said as she set pupu plates out on the kitchen island, ready for us to prop sushi and garnish.

  “You got banned?” Reese reveled in that like the picked-on kid watching the bully being pulled by the ear to the principal’s office.

  “It isn’t illegal to count cards. The casinos don’t like it though.”

  Just then, a buxom middle-aged woman with shoulder-length curly blonde hair sauntered into the kitchen. This must be Fiona.

  “Hello. I hope you’re finding everything all right.”

  “We’ll finish this conversation later,” Reese said in a whispered breath as he moved behind Jemma.

  “Yes, everything is great,” I answered, stepping out from behind the island to where my client stood. I wiped my hands on my apron and stuck one out to her. “I’m Ginger, and this is Jemma, and Reese.”

  “I’m Fiona. Welcome to my home.”

  A vision of a warrior woman speaking Greek among five ships flashed me like a camera bulb in the eyeballs.

  I let go of her hand, and the connection broke.

  Fiona seemed nice enough; not stuffy or condescending. We meet all kinds in this business. Most are easy to work with, but we’ve catered a few affairs where by the end of the event, you wanna strangle them.

  “When would you like us to start service?” I asked.

  “Well, my guests should be arriving at around 5:00, so how does 5:30 sound?”

  “Sounds fine. We’ll have everything ready by then.”

  “Thank you. If you need anything, you can text message my housekeeper Sheila.” She handed me a small piece of paper with a number on it. “Well, I better get dressed, so I’ll leave you to it.”

  I thanked her, then she turned and left.

  I addressed my quirky crew. “Okay, guys, you can discuss your gambling habits later. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Chapter 3

  Fiona’s staff had the dining table all set, and we had our serving station ready to roll. It was 4:55, and now we waited for the guests to arrive. We could hear some commotion in the other room, so it was only a matter of time before they would be entering the dining area.

  Since we had a little time, I walked over to the panoramic glass wall of windows to take in the spectacular view overlooking the ocean. As though back-floating on a tranquil sea, an overwhelming peacefulness swept over me as my eyes drank in the expansive cerulean blue waters below and beyond. White clouds, soft and unforeboding, cotton-candied the baby blue sky.

  Like a familiar scent that took you back to a certain place in time that you loved, this view made me long for the day Blaine and I retired to build our dream home in Kula. The views there equaled this.

  I let out a sigh.

  In February, the sun set around 6:15 – 6:30 p.m. so it would be a while still before we witnessed that beautiful sight.

  Jemma and Reese joined me. No one said a word. We just took this time to enjoy the moment.

  Suddenly, I felt a presence beside me, and not that of a warm body. I knew immediately what it meant.

  I looked to my right, and there was Maile, her small body garbed in a sleeveless pink and yellow flowered dress with two pockets in front above the hem. It was what I last saw her in. Her dark brown hair, wispy and soft, draped down past her shoulders to the middle of her back. Her pink slippers each had a tiny flower that embellished the rubber between her toes.

  Although I was glad to see her, goosebumps prickled my skin while gazing at her apparition. I knew what her appearance here signified.

  Something was about to happen at this dinner party.

  Mom came to me at various times, but not in the way that Maile did. It was as if my sister warned me when a tragedy was about to happen or had happened in the past. I was hoping it was the latter tonight because we were going to be stuck on this island until tomorrow.

  Maile held out her hand, and before I could reach out to her, her vision slowly faded, then vanished.

  The voices in the other room became louder and clearer, which meant within moments, the dining room would be filled with Fiona’s guests.

  We shuffled back to our station just in time to see the first two people as they entered. I tried to dismiss Maile’s visit from my thoughts, but I had to admit, it bothered me.

  “Wow, Mm-mom, you went and cc-catered tonight’s dinner? Yoo-oou didn’t tell us that. Ww-what’s the occasion?” stuttered the blond young man. He looked to be in his early twenties.

  “Well, darling, I have some important news to disclose, so I wanted to make this evening something special.”

  “There are seven places set. Who are the two others? They’re late.” She must be the daughter. Looked a lot like her mother except a younger version. Pretty girl, but by the way she carried herself and the ton
e of her comment, she seemed a bit spoiled and demanding.

  “They’ll be here soon enough,” Fiona replied.

  The salt-and-pepper-haired man had to be Fiona’s husband. He sat at the head of the table, while Fiona sat at the other end. The two kids were on opposite sides: the typical way a family sat down to dinner. There was one other female, a brunette, but she didn’t seem like a daughter.

  “So, Regina, just how did you meet my brother? He’s not one who attracts girls. Even though they know he’s got a rich family, they get irritated listening to him talk. Vogel said you’ve been going out for about a month now. Doesn’t he irritate you?”

  Holy cow. Talk about having no tact.

  Before I could hear what the girl’s response was, the butler came over to me. “Madam said to wait until her last two guests arrived before serving.”

  I nodded and said, “Okay.”

  He then picked up a bottle of red wine and was about to pour Fiona’s glass when the daughter spoke.

  “Don’t serve that. I brought something better. There are two bottles in a gift bag I left on the table in the foyer.”

  When the butler left, she addressed her family. “This orange wine I brought is from Australia. It’s simply delish. It’ll pair better with whatever your caterers have prepared.”

  “You know how your mom loves her reds,” the dad said.

  “Mom, you have to spread your wings a little. Try it and see how you like it. If you don’t, then go ahead and drink your boring reds.” Young Blondie was a little bossy. I sure hoped I didn’t sound like her. Now Jemma’s comment about my bossiness had got me wondering.

  “Little Miss Hoity-Toity is a work of art, isn’t she?” Reese said this under his breath so only I could hear.

  “Your type?” I asked, amused.

  His jaw dropped, and he looked at me with a blank stare. “Not even. I’m insulted that you would think me so shallow, just cuz she’s hot.”