Killer Confections8 Delectable Mysteries(14)

“Hey!” He jumped back out of reach, the surprise of his wife’s attack evident in his expression. The imprint of her palm stood out against his cheek.

Steve pulled Regan aside. She briefly struggled before bursting into tears. He led her away, quietly rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe her.

“Dave, what on earth is going on with the two of you?” Mother asked.

“Just some issues we haven’t resolved. It doesn’t concern you in any way.”

“But––” She stopped as Dave covered her lips with his fingertips.

“Don’t worry about it.” He glanced toward his wife. Regan seemed to have calmed as she conversed with Steve. “Why don’t you and Laurel get us some seats so we can all sit together tonight? Dinner will be served soon and you don’t want to miss the show.”

I felt torn between interrogating my brother about his marital issues and keeping my mother distracted. I grabbed Mother’s arm and dragged her in the direction of the tables and chairs set up for the luau. In the seating area, she assumed typical Barbara Bradford form, scoping out the table with the best view of the performers. That meant our group would sit by the stage. I hoped Regan would keep any further accusations to herself, at least during the performance. Even though she’d indicated concerns about a possible relationship between Keiki and Dave last night, her violent outburst stunned me. Could my sister-in-law have anger management issues, causing my brother to seek other, more serene arms?

Liz, Brian and Stan interrupted my musings, tropical drinks in hand and orchid leis around their necks.

“Isn’t this fabulous?” Liz lifted her lei and sniffed in the sweet scent of the delicate purple blossoms. “Hawaii is absolutely heaven. I can’t think of a more relaxing place to be.”

Considering Keiki’s death, and my brother and sister-in-law’s domestic issues, on a scale of one to ten, Hawaii so far only qualified for a two when it came to relaxation. But I agreed the scenery was spectacular. The golden foothills outside Sacramento where I live are beautiful, but nothing compares to a brilliant orange ball of fire slowly sinking into frothy white waves. Palm fronds waving in the breeze, framed its descent.

My backyard scenery also didn’t include half-naked men dressed solely in loin cloths, running across my lawn lighting tiki torches, although that was a heck of an idea. The eerie sound of a blown conch shell broke my reverie. I gazed in the direction of something even more delectable than the bronzed young men.

Food!

The aroma of roasted pig teased my senses as we approached the buffet. Aloha-shirted servers ladled out concoctions that smelled great but looked unfamiliar until I reached the end of the line. My favorite dinner staple––mac’n’cheez. I had a feeling this breadcrumb-topped delight might surpass the blue-and-yellow-boxed recipe I specialized in making.

With my plate piled high with kalua pork, curries, lomi-lomi salmon, sweet potatoes, and a minuscule portion of the purplish poi, I returned to our table, empty with the exception of one person. My sister-in-law.

Regan slumped in the folding chair, her chin resting on her tapered fingers, her face blotchy. Remnants of mascara clumped in the shape of a tiny spider indicated she’d been crying.

I set my plate on the red-flowered tablecloth and reached into my shoulder bag for a tissue. I gently wiped the black smudge off her cheek. Tears welled in her eyes.

“Mahalo, thank you, for your kindness. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never hit anyone in my life.” Tiny rivulets of water rolled down her pale cheeks. “Now I’ve probably lost my husband forever.”

I dug in my purse for another tissue. “It’s totally understandable. You’ve been working hard and now this horrible accident has occurred.”

I pondered the wisdom of bringing up any romantic involvement between my brother and the dancer, but it was time to learn why Regan suspected the worst of her husband.

“Forgive me for prying, but do you honestly think Dave and Keiki were having an affair? It’s so hard for me to believe he would do something like that.”

Her dark eyes drilled into mine. “If you had spent any time with Keiki, you’d know what I was talking about. She used every inch of her perfect body to get what she wanted.”

“But why would she want Dave?” I love my brother, but the guy isn’t Brad Pitt, either in looks or bank account.

Regan shrugged. “I’m not sure. Supposedly, Keiki had a challenging childhood. Walea is actually her stepsister. I think there were issues with her own father when she was growing up so maybe she was looking for a father figure.”