Killer Confections8 Delectable Mysteries(17)

“Hanging in there, Dave?”

He nodded but remained silent.

“I spoke to Walea after the show.”

That got his attention. “What did she say?”

“Um, she kind of cursed you.”

“What?” He rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Laurel. Don’t tell me you believe that Hawaiian mumbo jumbo.”

Not really. Although that mini-monsoon had erupted within seconds of that scary guy yelling at me. Just thinking about his threat made goose bumps or what the locals call “chicken skin,” appear on both arms.

“Walea was with a nasty fella. About your height, dark hair, with lots of acne scars on his face. He played the ukulele at the luau tonight.”

“That’s Henry Gonzalez, Walea’s husband,” he replied. “Not the most cheerful guy on the island, but he’s an excellent musician.” Dave rocked back and forth on his heels. “I should stop by their house. See if there’s anything I can do to help.”

I rested my hand on his freckled forearm. “I’m not sure they’re in the mood for company from you or anyone in our family. Walea sounded like she blames you for Keiki’s death.”

Dave rapidly blinked away the water that had started to pool in his eyes. “What if they’re right and the ropes weren’t secured properly? Maybe it really is my fault she’s gone.”

“No point worrying yourself sick until you find out if it was an accident or not. Did the police say when you can open up again?”

“They said they’d be done tomorrow, but I’m not sure I can handle reopening the restaurant after what happened.” He rubbed the corner of his right eye. “It won’t be the same without her anyway.”

Her? I was about to grill Dave further when Mother joined us. Darn. Any revelations would have to wait. Mother’s arm wrapped snugly around Regan, who looked prepared to bolt the second her mother-in-law loosened her firm grip.

“Dave, your wife and I were discussing our expedition tomorrow.” Mother placed a special emphasis on Regan’s marital status. Subtlety was not Mom’s middle name.

“I heard you’re all driving to the volcano in the morning then Regan’s taking you on the coffee tour,” he said.

Regan shook her head. “We’ll have to delay the plantation tour until the next day. I’m meeting with a Detective Lee tomorrow afternoon at the police station.”

Dave’s eyebrows jumped an inch. “Why are they talking to you?”

It might be time for Dave to stop watching cooking shows and start catching Law and Order reruns.

“Regan is co-owner of the restaurant,” I said. “They’re probably going to interview all your staff. Most likely they’ve already spoken to Walea and she’s…” My voice dropped off as I realized interviewing Walea and her family wouldn’t make the authorities more sympathetic to our family.

“It’s not like I have anything useful to share.” Regan narrowed her eyes at her husband. “I took a sleeping pill last night so a troop of dancers could have paraded through our condo without waking me up. Should I have heard anything?”

Dave’s face paled and his left eye twitched, but he shook his head.

“I’m sure you two have much to discuss.” Mother released her hold on Regan and gently pushed her toward her husband. “Go home and get a good night’s rest. Brian can drive us to the volcano tomorrow. You can take us on the tour of Koffee Land the next day.”

Regan appeared hesitant. I didn’t envy her position but Mother was right. It was time for Regan and Dave to sit down and discuss Keiki. And their marriage.

Dave placed his hand on the small of his wife’s back. As the couple receded into the distance, I noted the gap between them increased.

Liz, Brian and Stan joined my mother and me.

“We can’t do the coffee tour until Tuesday,” Mother said. “So why don’t we visit the black sand beach at Punalu’u and the volcano tomorrow?”

“Great idea,” Stan said. “That beach is loaded with honu, huge green sea turtles. I’d love to get a photo of them sunning themselves.”

“We can also squeeze in a stop at the Punalu’u Bake Shop,” Liz added. “I’ve been dying to sample their malasadas.”

“What are malasadas?” I asked.

“Very sweet, light and airy pastries. Similar to doughnuts but better. Full of custard or fruit. Some are even stuffed with chocolate cream.”

Forget the giant turtles and the volcano.

Liz had me at the chocolate cream-filled doughnuts.





Chapter 12





By eight o’clock, we’d all gathered in the lobby. Despite Mother’s objections, I skipped my heart-and-colon-healthy oatmeal breakfast. My daily calories were reserved for delicious fried carbs. The sugar-filled pastries might sweeten the grumpy mood brought on by two voicemails I’d just played back.