Ukulele Deadly Read online

  Opening the door, I feel around inside for a switch and turn the lights on.

  This guy must be related to Detective Ray. Huge towers of papers reach from the floor to the ceiling and cover a table. Four filing cabinets stand with their drawers half open. It looks like someone's been rifling through, looking for something.

  Pulling the door shut, I scan the room. Where should I start? There's a door in the back, and I race over and pull it open a crack. It leads to a shared hallway between the other five offices. One door to the outside sits in the middle. There are bathrooms at either end of the hall.

  I close the door very quietly and turn the deadbolt lock. It wouldn't stop anyone like Titus if he had a key, but the noise would give me a heads-up.

  The problem is, where to begin? It would take hours to go through all this stuff. On the table on my right is a basket filled with keys. Would it be easier to come back in the middle of the night?

  I'm running out of time. If I stay much longer, Smoot might come looking for me. Grabbing a handful of keys, I race to the door and try them, one by one. The last key fits and turns the lock. I shove it into my pocket and head back to the main door.

  "Sorry about that," I say brightly. "What did I miss?"

  Binny stands, holding about thirty brochures. "A lot to think about. Mr. Smoot has so many plans. I think we should take them home and look them over."

  "Yes…yes, it is a lot of information." Smoot gives us a smile that indicates he doesn't want to be smiling.

  "We will call you in a couple of days to come back in and go over the details," I say.

  "Great! That will be fine." Smoot nods vigorously. "It was very nice meeting you, Barbara and Mary."

  Once outside, we step over to the next office, which is empty, and Binny shoves the stack of brochures into her purse.

  "That was awful." She groans.

  I hold up the key. "But very rewarding."

  Binny smiles. "Anything else?"

  "I'll tell you later. Let's hit the other insurance place."

  Aloha Lagoon Insurance is at the other end of the strip mall, completely opposite Smoot's operation. We glance into the empty offices and the mailing place, which is smack dab in the middle.

  A bell tinkles as we walk into the last office. If Smoot's place is minimalist, this place is professional, with comfy furniture, rich wood filing cabinets, and tasteful artwork on the walls. Classical music fills the air, and I smell what seems to be a turkey roasting.

  "Hello!" A tall, handsome Asian man steps forward, wearing a tailored suit and a genuine smile. "Ben Tashumi. Welcome to Aloha Lagoon Insurance!"

  His handshake is warm and firm, and a cloud of cologne settles around us. This is more like it. No wonder Alvin Smoot was so sensitive. Clearly Ben Tashumi has his act together.

  "Please!" The man ushers us to what may be the most comfortable chairs in existence. He hands each of us a bottle of artesian water.

  "Thank you." Binny gives him her megawatt smile. "I'm Barbara Suki, and this is my friend, Mary Jones."

  Mr. Tashumi sits at his desk and takes out a very expensive-looking pen. "How can I help you?"

  "My recently widowed mother has just moved here from Oahu, so I'm looking for a family plan." I parrot Binny's earlier story.

  "Thank you for giving me a chance to tell you about what we can offer," Tashumi says smoothly.

  "You must pardon me," Binny says. "But we were just at your competitor's…"

  "Alvin Smoot?" Tashumi's face darkens. "That man is a con artist. You must not listen to anything he said. I'm sure his office is just a front for illegal activity."

  Are these guys reading from the same script?

  Tashumi's demeanor is sucking us in. He doesn't sweat or scream. This outfit looks totally legit. Smoot is quickly becoming our number one suspect.

  I listen as this man gives me the rundown on policies. My head spins, and the key in my pocket seems to be red hot.

  "Excuse me, Mr. Tashumi?" Binny gets to her feet. "Would you mind if I used your restroom?" She doesn't overexplain or say she isn't feeling well. Somehow Binny knows she doesn't have to give that much information.

  "Of course!" Tashumi stands and ushers her to a door in the back that's similar to the one at Island Insurance. He sits back down at his desk and launches back into his pitch.

  My heart is pounding. Is this how Binny felt when I'd disappeared? The key in my pocket feels like it's screaming to make its presence known.

  "As you can see," Tashumi is saying, "there are a number of plans that would work for you. I'd recommend you take a look at these two…" He spreads the brochures in front of me.

  Where is Binny? I wasn't gone this long, was I? I pictured her going out into the back hall and getting kidnapped by Titus Allen. Or Terry Flynn. Or Alvin Smoot.

  My list of suspects is getting long.

  "Do you think Miss Suki is alright?" Ben Tashumi's eyes shine with genuine concern.

  "I'm sure she's fine," I lie. "Let's give her a few more minutes."

  "Maybe I should go back and see?" The insurance agent gets to his feet and buttons the first button on his jacket.

  I jump to my feet, knocking my knee on the desk. Waves of pain course through me, but I paste on a smile. "No, I'll go. She's using the ladies' room, after all."

  But Tashumi is already halfway to the door, with me hot on his heels.

  "There's just so much to consider!" I say as loudly as I could without sounding suspicious. "I mean, it's just me and Mom."

  Hopefully, Binny will hear me and come back through the door. But nothing happens.

  Tashumi's hand is on the doorknob, and I'm about to pretend to faint, when my best friend pops through the door.

  "I'm so sorry!" She pouts. "There was another woman in there, so it took a long time."

  "Certainly not a problem, Miss Suki," Tashumi soothes.

  We return to the desk, where Tashumi finishes his sales pitch, but I don't hear a word. I'm dying to know what Binny has found. She was gone so long I half expect her to say she found Big Foot. Somehow I control myself.

  "Thank you, Mr. Tashumi!" Binny stands and offers her hand. I follow suit. "You've given us a lot to think about!"

  That's a strange thing to say, but I follow Binny out the door. We get to the car and retrieve the uke case.

  "Anything?" I whisper, even though we are the only people in the parking lot.

  "Later," she responds.

  Mail Your Stuff looks like a typical mailing place. There's a wall of PO boxes, a shelf with envelopes and boxes of every size, and a harried-looking young woman hastily wrapping a giant plastic flamingo.

  "Yes?" she asks without looking at us.

  "I need to ship something," I say.

  The woman says nothing, just keeps trying to wrestle the flamingo into a box that looks a little too small. I look down at the uke case. Do I really want to send it back? Granted, it's under warranty, which is why I'm sending it to Texas. The case broke when Mom backed over it with the car. Fortunately, it was empty.

  Binny looks at me and wiggles her eyebrows before wandering off to check out the store. I remain at the counter and look to the back door. Same as the others. All of the office suites must have the same layout.

  The young woman behind the counter is a mess. Wild, tangled hair has come loose from her ponytail, and there are smudges on her face. A name tag says Rose. She looks to be nineteen or twenty at least.

  She gives up and shoves the still unpacked mess aside. "What are you sending?" she asks with a weary voice.

  I hand her the case, and her face brightens. "Oh good! This will be easy. I tell you, that flamingo is going in that box if I have to cut it in half."

  It takes a lot of willpower not to grab my case back.

  "How long has this place been here?" I ask instead. "Must be new—I didn't even know this strip mall was here."

  Rose doesn't look at me because she's holding a few boxes up to see which one will fit my
case. "Yeah. Just a month, really. It's dead here. I guess the boss thought with the resort and all, people would want to send souvenirs home so they wouldn't take up room in their suitcases. But business is slow."

  "Well…" My mind races as I think of something to say. "I ship a lot of stuff back and forth to the mainland. I work at the resort, so this is really convenient for me."

  But Rose is now vigorously wrapping the uke case in bubble wrap. She appears to be strangling it, but what can I do?

  "I think that makes a lot of sense." Binny joins us at the counter. "Tourists are always buying big items and then can't figure out how to get them home without making their bags heavier."

  "That's what the boss thought too," Rose says with a grunt as she uses a tape gun on the box. I hand her the address, and she pulls out a huge sharpie and writes on the box.

  I don't want to use the bathroom strategy again, and I don't think Rose would let us anyway. Do we need to, I wonder? This place looks like the real thing.

  "Who's the owner?" Binny asks. She doesn't smile. Probably because she knows it won't work on this girl. She won't even look up.

  "Mr. Smith." Rose turns to the register and rings me up. "I don't know him, really."

  I pay the woman and have to admit, the price is right. Nothing about this place looks suspicious.

  "Are they going to lease the other two offices?" Binny asks.

  Rose shrugs.

  "Have you met Mr. Smoot and Mr. Tashumi?" I ask. I might be pushing it. Rose isn't exactly chatty.

  The woman rolls her eyes. "I've met them. Couple of jerks if you ask me."

  Binny leans casually on the counter. "Why's that?"

  Now Rose looks at us as if seeing us for the first time. She seems annoyed. "They think they should get a discount because they're in the same building. The boss said no, so they don't use us."

  Her eyes are fully on ours now. We won't get any further here.

  "Well, thanks!" I pick up my receipt and head to the door.

  Binny doesn't speak until we are both in the car. I stare at the building. In the front windows of each office, Mr. Smoot, Mr. Tashumi, and Rose are staring right back at me. I pull out of the parking lot and drive away.

  Binny suggests we have a drink. I pull into a small but homey bar near the beach on the other side of town. We order a couple of mai tais.

  "That was too weird," I say after a long gulp.

  Binny nods. "You should've seen the back room at Tashumi's!"

  "And Smoot's place too. I didn't see anything though. There wasn't enough time. But I did get this." I pull out my key.

  Binny grins. "I guess we're going back there then." She pulls a similar key out of her pocket.

  I can't help but laugh. "I guess if the resort ever closes, we can become burglars."

  Binny's smile turns to a frown as she looks at the door.

  Ben Tashumi and Alvin Smoot have entered together and are talking amiably. Binny and I shrink back into the shadows as the two men sit at the same table and begin talking quietly.

  "Now that's something I didn't see coming," I say as I look for an exit.

  Walking to the front door would put us in full view of the men. And while that wouldn't be too strange since we aren't doing anything wrong, the alarm bells are going off in my head.

  "There!" Binny points to a sliding glass door a few feet away.

  "They'll see us," I whisper.

  Tashumi and Smoot are still locked in deep discussion, but they're facing us. If we so much as stand up, they'll see us. We have to distract them somehow.

  "What would they do if they saw us?" Binny asks.

  "They both told us to avoid the other one," I answer. "If they see us seeing them, they'll know their cover story of hating each other is blown."

  Binny nods. "And we'd have to say hello."

  A waitress steps up to the men, and they turn to talk to her. I'm sure the door is hanging off its hinges in the wake of our flight.

  Binny and I agree to meet up with the boys tomorrow, and I head to my car. Investigating, stealing, and lying have wiped me out, and I need to go to bed, even though it's early yet. I should check in with Mom anyway.

  As I drive, I try to sort my thoughts. There have been two murders, each set up to implicate me. First, Fake Ed is poisoned and dies in front of me. Then I'm seen leaning over Allison's dead body at the luau. She presumably died of blowfish poison from a blow dart. Well, that's until we have the coroner's report.

  Who kills someone with blowfish poison? It doesn't necessarily frame me. I have no access to something like that. I don't even know what part of the blowfish it comes from, inside or out. Pulling into my driveway, I decide that I'm going to look it up. Might as well, since hundreds of people think I'm an expert in such things.

  Mom is asleep in her bedroom. Well, at least she's here where I can keep an eye on her. I carefully close the door and tiptoe to the breakfast bar, laptop under my arm.

  So that's what a blowfish is. It's one of those balloon-type fish that swell up. Also called a pufferfish or fugu. It says that the liver is the most toxic and the tastiest part of the fish. Now, who was the ill-fated person who figured that out? I guess it's fortunate that he managed to tell people how delicious it was before he died.

  Wait a minute. This can't be right. I search another website. And another. But I find the same thing every time. Blowfish poison can take hours to kill you.

  Allison died within a few minutes of talking to me. It's possible that she wasn't killed by this type of poison, although she might have been poisoned earlier. And she's in a freezer downtown, so it won't be known until the other medical examiner shows up.

  So what killed her and how?

  Don't killers usually use the same method for killing their victims? So maybe there are two killers—killers who aren't me but seem to want to pin this on me. Why? It doesn't make any sense.

  I lean back and rub my eyes. If he believes I'm the killer, why hasn't Detective Ray arrested me? Is he unsure too? And if so, how long is this investigation going to take? At the pace he works, it could be years.

  Closing my laptop, I jump off the stool and head to bed. Tomorrow I'll try to make inroads on this investigation. Maybe my new lawyer knows something. I haven't heard from her in a while. I'll definitely call her. Until then, I have to get through a wedding with snakes.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The next morning, I wake to another lovely day in paradise. Mom is nowhere to be found, but there's a note that says she went shopping with a new friend. I can't help but wonder who her new friend might be. There's a chance I know her. Aloha Lagoon is pretty small.

  Clearing my head, I take a shower and slip into the dress I wore when Allison was killed. Whether it tells these weirdos that I killed the singer or not, I'm a professional and will do what the contract entails. Besides, these people had to put up with Mary Lou—so going the extra distance might be appreciated.

  For a moment I think of wearing something else. But considering that there was a huge audience at that show, and possible pictures taken with cell phones of me hovering sinisterly over Allison's corpse, these guys would probably know.

  I run a brush through my hair and slip into black ballet flats. Grabbing my keys, I fling open the door to find Detective Ray, his fist in midair, as if I'd interrupted him from knocking.

  "Oh! Detective!" I squeak. "I'm just about to head out to a gig. I have to play at a wedding at the Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel and…"

  He holds up one finger to stop me, and I shut up.

  "Just a couple of questions, then you can go, Miss Johnson."

  Glancing at my watch, I realize I can spare a minute or two. I step back into the German foyer and invite him in. Ray looks around and nods. He's probably thinking Of course. This is how a murderer decorates.

  I close the door behind him but don't usher him into any other room. He can ask his questions here.

  "I suppose you realize your video has over one
million hits on the YouTube." He looks smugly satisfied—as if to indicate that he's hip with the youngsters. He knows what the YouTube is.

  I shake my head, mostly at the fact that he calls it "the YouTube." Mom does that. Why do older people do that? "I don't have any videos online. What are you talking about?"

  The man stands there, blinking at me. If he's expecting a confession, he's going home empty-handed.

  "The video of the murder, of course." The detective notices my dress. "I guess we should confiscate that dress as evidence."

  "Um…I'm kind of wearing it right now…" I stammer. Then it hits me. "Wait! Did you say there's a video of the murder? How can there be a video of the murder if I didn't kill Allison?"

  I'm starting to get a little light-headed, and I stumble backward, dropping my ukulele case on the floor. The room is spinning, and I double over, hands on my knees to keep my balance. Ray gently guides me by the elbow to the living room and makes me sit. In seconds, he's there with a glass of water, which I chug gratefully.

  That was very nice of him. Maybe he doesn't really think I'm the killer. You don't get a glass of water for a killer, do you?

  "Are you alright?" Ray asks. He's still standing over me. I think, but am not sure, that there's a barely noticeable look of concern.

  After a few deep breaths, the dizziness passes, and I nod. "I'm okay. Sorry about that. You kind of caught me off guard there."

  Ray sits down and stares at me for a moment. "You know what? I'm not so sure you killed Allison."

  "Really?" I ask. "That's good, because I didn't! And I have no idea how there's a video…"

  "It wasn't of you killing Miss Tarawa. It was of you with the body. Some guest at the resort must've taken it on a camera phone and uploaded it."

  I glare at him. "Then why did you imply that it was?"

  He shrugs. "I wanted to see how you reacted."

  I try to ignore the bubbling rage and get to my feet and urge him to the door. Picking up my ukulele case, I look him in the eye.

  "I'm sorry. But I really have to go."

  Ray nods. I think it's all he's capable of doing. "Fine. But I still need that dress. Right now."