Killer Confections8 Delectable Mysteries(26)

I didn’t want to seem like a control freak, but surely the two guys had a better plan than getting drunk tonight. Someone needed to spring Regan from the joint.

Dave gulped his drink in two seconds then reached for the half-empty bottle of vodka. I grabbed it first and raised it over my head.

“What is the matter with the two of you?” I glared at both men, equally annoyed with my brother and his best friend. “Drowning your sorrows isn’t going to solve anything.”

Steve slid off the bar stool with athletic grace and gestured for me to take his place. “Your brother is having a tough time dealing with this situation. You’ll be happy to know I’m only drinking Sprite.”

My brother spun around on his stool. “Laurel, stop being such a pill. Steve and me––” Dave burped. “We have a plan.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of plan? I hope it doesn’t involve breaking Regan out of jail.”

He shook his head from side to side and frowned. “You are always so negative. Steve and I have it covered. All we gotta do is find the killer ourselves.”

He snatched the bottle out of my grasp. “Now how hard can that be?”





Chapter 18





We spent the next half hour trying to sober up my brother who continued to insist the local police were only interested in getting the murder off their books.

Brian responded to Dave’s assertions. “I don’t think you realize the importance of working within the system.”

“Based on the stories my sister has shared,” Dave said, “that method hasn’t worked so well for her in the past.”

Brian’s face colored as Liz and I traded glances. I had no reason to doubt the competency of the Hawaii Police. Except for the fact that they’d arrested my sister-in-law, which led me to sincerely doubt their investigative prowess.

I also doubted that given my brother’s current condition, that he should be cooking in a kitchen full of sharp pointed objects. We locked up the lounge and trooped down the street to the Kona Inn Restaurant, a terrific dining spot located at the Kona Inn Shopping Center. The young hostess showed the six of us to a corner table overlooking a velvety green lawn that marched up to the ocean.

We decided brainstorming would be better without booze so we skipped the tropical drinks and ordered dinner. My nostrils flared as the scent of batter-fried Maui onion rings wafted over from the table next to us. Three succulent orders of onion rings later, we were deep into discussing what we knew so far.

“Someone needs to ask the obvious question,” said Brian. “What kind of evidence do the police have implicating Regan?”

Dave drooped in his chair. His initial alcohol-enhanced excitement about helping his wife seemed to have dissipated. “Yesterday, when I was waiting for Regan to finish with the cops, I overhead two officers discuss a bandage Regan wore above her wrist.”

My mother looked puzzled. “Since when is a bandage proof someone is a murderer?”

“A scratch or other injury could indicate the suspect fought with the victim,” Brian replied. “Regan mentioned they tested her DNA yesterday so they must have noticed something suspicious.”

Brian twisted in his seat to address Dave. “Did you see or hear Regan go out that evening?”

Dave’s right eye twitched as he replied. “Nope, didn’t hear a thing.”

Aha! I knew that twitch. My poker-playing teenage daughter had taught me how to read facial expressions and body language. That twitch was a sure “tell” whenever my brother lied. I remembered many a Monopoly game when he claimed to have lost all of his money. Several twitches later, pastel-colored paper bills mysteriously appeared in his shoes and shorts.

So Dave was lying. But about what?

My mother had managed to live in a twitch-free zone for the last forty-two years so she rarely found fault with her eldest child. It was up to me to get to the bottom of this mess.

“Did Regan mention anything about meeting with Keiki after the reception?” I asked Dave.

He shook his head with nary a twitch. Therefore, as far as my brother knew, Regan had not met up with the dancer.

“Will you be able to get her released?” Stan asked.

“According to the attorney Steve found for me, the police can keep Regan under arrest for forty-eight hours before they must decide if there’s sufficient evidence to have her arraigned. If the Prosecuting Attorney decides to proceed, the bail could be a million dollars or more. The restaurant and our condo unit are our only collateral. There’s no way we have a million dollars in equity.”

“Your wife is worth far more than a million dollars.” My mother raised her voice as she addressed her only son. “Let me know what you need. I’m sure Robert would agree to help.”