Maui Widow Waltz (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) by JoAnn Bassett

antics were beyond cute—they’d veered into adorable
territory. She chucked him under the chin, and with a wink, silently promised
to show him her own version of adorable as soon as they were alone.
    “I’m Pali Moon. I’m coordinating
Lisa Marie and…” I balked at providing a groom’s name. “…uh, I’m coordinating
your daughter’s wedding. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Prescott.”
    “Call me Marv. And this here’s
Tina.” He gestured toward stepmom who dipped a slight curtsy, accompanied by
another giggle. I wondered if the giggling was habitual or simply the result of
a long alcohol-fueled flight over the Pacific.  
    “This whole thing with Brad really
screws the pooch, doesn’t it?” said Marv.
    He didn’t look like he expected an
answer, so I didn’t give one.
     “You think he’s a goner?” he
continued.
    Lisa Marie was clearly within
earshot.
    “I only know what you know, sir,” I
said. “The Coast Guard believes he may have fallen out of the boat.”
    “Hey, no ‘sir’ stuff with me. So,
if he went in the drink he’s most likely in the belly of a whale, right? You
know, like Jonah.” He grinned as if expecting me to high five him for his
clever biblical reference.
    For a moment, I considered pointing
out that whales found in Hawaiian waters are herbivores and wouldn’t be the least
bit interested in human flesh, but decided against it. I stole a look at Lisa
Marie to see if she’d overheard. Her stricken face signaled she had.
    “Daddy, please don’t talk like
that.” Her tone was pleading. “Brad’s okay. I know he’ll be back in time for
the wedding.”
    “You could be right, sweetheart,
but I’m somewhat of an expert on what they call ‘the law of the jungle.’ My
money’s on your boy sleeping with the fishes—or most likely feeding the
fishes.”
    Lisa Marie visibly sagged, but
didn’t say anything. I was amazed at Marv’s cavalier attitude, especially if
he’d played a role in Brad’s death.
    Marv grabbed Tina’s arm and steered
her outside toward an over-loaded luggage cart waiting by the door. Everyone
else followed.
    On eyeing the small mountain of
suitcases, I leaned in to Lisa Marie and whispered, “How long are your dad and
stepmom planning to stay?”
    “Just until Friday morning. Daddy’s
got an early tee time at Pebble Beach on Saturday.”
    Just five days. Ever since Kevin’s
tip-off meeting that morning, I’d been nervous about meeting Marv Prescott. But
in the flesh I found him—and Tina—oddly fascinating. And, aside from the
missing groom, the wedding was proceeding without a hitch. Sucking up to Marv
for a few days seemed perfectly doable.
    At about noon the entourage piled
into two highly polished black Mercedes and headed for Olu’olu. I followed them
out of the parking lot. Driving up Baldwin toward Hali’imaile I remembered what
waited for me at home:  multiple loads of laundry, a sticky kitchen floor,
and a lawn that had ‘vacant house’ written all over it. I sagged. I’m not a
lazy person, but living in overdrive for nearly a week had sapped my energy. I
added a quick nap to the list. 
    I started to turn into my driveway
but two vehicles blocked my way—a late model red Ram pick-up and a dark green
Jeep Grand Cherokee. The garage door was open and Steve’s Jetta was parked
inside. So much for getting chores done, it looked like we had company. But
who? Maybe it was appraisers or potential buyers sniffing around now that word
of the foreclosure was making the rounds. I did a three-point turn and parked
across the street.  
    I’d made it about halfway up the
porch steps when raucous laughter erupted from the living room. Two pair of
black leather shoes were lined up to the right of the door along with Steve’s
flipflops. The shoes were the heavy lace-up kind working men wear. Were Steve
and Hatch inside yukking it up with the vultures circling the kill? It was all
I could do to force a smile as I stepped inside.
    “Hey,