Chapter 1
“This mango daiquiri is to die for.” I popped a juicy red maraschino cherry into my mouth, lifted my tropical drink and toasted the bride.
Liz’s hazel eyes sparkled brighter than the diamond-studded wedding band placed on her left hand three hours earlier. She tapped her creamy pina colada, encased in a coconut shell, against my fruity concoction.
“Here’s to a marriage made in heaven.” I glanced at the fiery sun hovering above the white-tipped waves, ready for its nightly dip into the ocean. “Or in Hawaii, which is practically the same thing.”
“You can’t top this romantic scenery, Laurel,” she replied, “plus there are…”
“No dead bodies,” we said in unison.
Liz and I both laughed. I was grateful my British friend’s Valentine’s Day ceremony had gone off without a hitch, since her original wedding plans found me waltzing with a killer and narrowly escaping a frigid death in the depths of Lake Tahoe.
I breathed a sigh of relief. My best friend was officially Mrs. Brian Daley. All it took was flying 2,468 miles from Sacramento to the Big Island of Hawaii to make it happen.
Liz smoothed the skirt of her strapless white gown and lifted a perfectly waxed blonde eyebrow. “Maybe you and Tom will be the next to tie the knot.”
I stared at the horizon wondering how likely it was that Detective Tom Hunter and I would walk down the aisle any time soon. “I don’t see any weddings in my future. Tom and I spent more time together when I was a murder suspect than we do now that we’re––” I set my glass on the table to make air quotes for emphasis, ––“‘dating.’ At the rate our relationship is progressing, we’ll need a church with extra-wide aisles to accommodate our matching set of his-and-her walkers.”
“Such a pity he cancelled his trip.”
“According to Tom, his latest homicide case takes precedence over a Hawaiian vacation.” I shrugged and sipped my drink. “It seems the only way to woo my cop is with a corpse.”
“Nice image, Laurel.” Liz wrinkled her nose. “So maybe Tom won’t turn out to be your Mr. Right. Don’t forget I dated over fifty guys before I found the perfect man.”
My best friend wasn’t kidding. While I’d embarked on a sensible banking career after college, Liz had traveled to exotic locales, seduced by the glamour of foreign countries. Not to mention foreign men, of all shapes, sizes and nationalities. Her dating memoir should be entitled Fifty Shades of Romance.
My brief, almost deadly experience with a matchmaking agency would send most women to a nunnery.
Liz shifted her gaze to her groom who’d replaced his tuxedo with a red-flowered shirt and khaki cargo shorts. Brian had almost completed the metamorphosis from El Dorado County Assistant District Attorney to tourist. Someone just needed to tell him to dump the loafers he’d paired with black socks.
Brian’s height made the stocky man chatting next to him look even shorter.
“Your brother and Brian seem to be getting along.” Liz blew a kiss at her handsome, fashion-challenged husband. Her new husband and my brother stood at the bar taking turns doing shots, both acting a couple of decades younger than their early forties.
“It’s nice to see Dave enjoying himself,” I said. “He’s looked so stressed the last two days. I swear his hairline’s receded another inch since we arrived.” I watched my bearded, balding older brother toss back another shot of an alcoholic concoction whose color bore a strong resemblance to Ty-D-Bol.
Yuck.
I peeked at my watch, wondering where my sister-in-law was. “Dave better not get drunk. Regan won’t be happy.”
“I still can’t believe Regan missed our wedding ceremony,” Liz said. “I’ve only met her the one time, but considering we held the reception at Daiquiri Dave’s, you’d think she would make it a priority.”
My gaze scanned the interior of the restaurant my brother and his wife had opened three years ago. They’d purchased a decrepit local Tiki bar, situated on massive lava rock formations twenty feet above the ocean, and transformed it into one of Kailua-Kona’s most popular dining spots. Hard work and an oceanfront setting, combined with twenty varieties of colorful fruit-flavored daiquiris, had paid off.
“Dave mentioned Regan’s been putting in long hours at her accounting job, but I don’t understand why working at a coffee plantation would be so demanding.” I folded and unfolded the tiny lilac paper umbrella that came with my tropical drink. “This is Hawaii, after all. Headquarters for hanging loose.”