Killer Confections8 Delectable Mysteries(52)

“Good luck, dear.” Mother patted the young woman on the arm.

Amanda smiled a thanks and scurried away to join the others. Mother and I chuckled as we left the pavilion.

“Ah, youth, the stars are aligned,” I said, “therefore it is my fate––”

“To meet my mate,” Stan sang out. “Hey, she’s a cute kid. I hope this show works out for her. Everyone deserves to meet their Mr. Right.”

My lower lip trembled, and I sensed a lone tear rolling down my cheek. Everyone does deserve to meet Ms. or Mr. Right. But once the initial romance wears off, how do you keep a relationship going strong? The unhealthy relationship of my brother and his wife saddened me, as did the memory of my own broken marriage. How could the joining of two people in love lead to so much disappointment? And tears.

And as I was discovering on this island––betrayal!





Chapter 36





We continued on the path that led uphill away from the pavilion toward the vista point. After a short walk, we reached the crest. Two men conversed at the base of a tall tower.

“What a spectacular view,” Mother said.

She wasn’t kidding. A lush green valley surrounded us, the undulating hills covered with tall Ohia and Koa trees, abundant ferns and an occasional zip-line tower. In the distance, the ocean sparkled as if diamonds were dancing on the crests of the waves.

We strolled over to check out the view from the tower, which was at least forty feet tall.

“This isn’t operational yet,” the shorter man announced. He wore a large diamond stud in one ear and sported dragon tattoos on each of his muscular arms. He and his arms looked vaguely familiar, but since many young men on the island had tattoos, I doubted his was the only fire-breathing arm in Hawaii.

“We were just admiring the scenery,” I said. “Will the zip-line be running soon?”

“We’re testing it today,” said the other worker. “It needs to be ready by Monday for the reality show. After that, it will open to the public. You should try it sometime.”

I looked at the belts, hooks and pulleys intended to haul a person a thousand-plus feet to the next tower with a mere two-hundred-foot drop over the valley below.

“That small contraption can hold me?” Both men laughed at my skeptical tone.

“Yes, miss,” replied the older, heavy-set man. “Trust me. If it can hold us, it can hold you.”

Stan moved closer to the tower. “Oh, you can ride tandem on this zip-line. That’s a nice feature.”

“The TV show needed to have two people go at the same time, and our boss thought that would be an added attraction. Sometimes people feel more comfortable if they’re zipping next to a friend.”

“Can more than one person ride together on the same line?” I asked.

He nodded. “Sure, you and your mom could ride together as long as your combined weight didn’t exceed 270 lbs.”

Mother glanced at me then shook her head slowly. Was she implying I’d eaten one malasada too many for her to feel comfortable flying through the air with me?

“I’ve always wanted to try zip-lining,” Stan said. “How safe is it? Someone mentioned there was an accident here not long ago.”

The men shared a look. The young tattooed fellow was about to speak when the older man laid a hand on his shoulder. “That accident had nothing to do with the safety of these lines. We’re about to take a ride to the next tower now. Stick around and watch.”

The workers climbed four sets of stairs to reach the platform at the top of the tower where a third man waited. Even from this distance, I recognized Henry, their boss, glowering at us as usual.

We watched as they hooked themselves into the harnesses and tested the clamps from the upper line. Henry gave them a thumbs-up, and they took off. They waved back at us as they flew down the line. The smaller, wiry one leaned backward and spread his colorfully inked arms out wide, displaying the familiar “hang loose” Shaka sign so popular in the islands.

“That looks like fun.” Stan’s gaze followed the men’s swift ride across the canyon.

That depends on your definition of “fun.” I’d personally prefer to pull my upper lip over my forehead than go zipping through the air.

“Regan must have an update on Dave by now,” said Mother, all business. “If not, then it’s high time we drive to the detention center and find out what’s going on ourselves.”

We strolled past the pavilion, which was filled with more estrogen per foot than most men would want to handle. That Jacques Cointreau must be one hearty dude.

I couldn’t imagine competing for a guy on national television. It was hard enough dating someone without having millions of viewers watching your every move.