Read 03 - Three Odd Balls for Free Online Page A

closer to Wilson’s sleeping-like-a-baby body. But I still didn’t sleep. Eventually the rains stopped, and I decided it would be rather atmospheric to take a walk around the grounds at—I glanced at the clock on the nightstand—2:15 a.m. I slipped on my flip flops, ignored the fact that I was in my pajamas, and tiptoed down the garden path heading toward the ocean.
    A light was on at Song of the Sea bungalow, where I assumed the Hoochie Coochies had taken up residence. At least they weren’t practicing at that hour. I passed Louise’s darkened bungalow, and the swimming pool. The tiki bar was closed, thank God. If it were still open, I could just imagine my mother, lounging on a deck chair, sipping yet another of her beloved drinks, and devising yet more improbable scenarios for Adelé Nightingale to somehow get down on paper.
    I wandered along, admiring this and that tropical plant or flower. I recognized the bromeliads and gingers, and of course the roses, but failed to identify many of the more exotic species. “Puts my little rooftop garden to shame,” I said to the wind and kept going.
    Indeed, I decided a two a.m. stroll through the garden might become part of my regular routine during my stay at the Wakilulani Gardens. I was thoroughly enjoying the solitude, if not the quiet. Who knew how noisy a tropical wind could be?
    I meandered my way toward the beach. The lights were out in Chris’s bungalow, but a light was on at my mother’s. Tessie’s a night owl, and jetlag or not, ten pink drinks or not, I was not at all surprised she was awake.
    I was deciding if I should disturb her when Mother dashed out onto her porch. Her gaze darted back and forth along the beach until she noticed me standing there in the foreground.
    “There you are, Jessie,” she said in a faltering voice. “I’m glad you’re here, but maybe you should go get Wilson.”
    “Excuse me? It’s the middle of the night, Mother. He’s sound asleep.”
    She sighed. “Well then, maybe we should call the Hawaiian police instead.”
    My face dropped. “Why?” I sang.
    “Because, Honeybunch, there’s a dead man in my bungalow.”

Chapter 5
    “Maybe we should go get Dad,” Chris said, and I almost landed on top of the dead guy.
    I steadied myself on my mother’s threshold and stared aghast. But it was rather difficult to decide what to stare at—the dead guy on the floor, the pool of blood he was lying in, or the bare-chested Christopher Rye, who had stepped forward from the corner of the room.
    I chose Chris’s chest. “What the hell are you doing here?”
    “He’s been stabbed, Jessie. We need to get Dad.”
    I raised my head and found his eyes. “I’m not leaving my mother.”
    He pushed me aside and jogged away into the night.
    I was frowning at the tray of pink drinks on the bed when my mother tiptoed inside.
    “Those are very flattering,” she said quietly and pointed to at my pajamas. “Yellow suits you, Jessie.”
    I told her it’s my favorite color and admired her own baby blue nightgown. And doggedly determined to avoid looking at the dead guy, we continued along this surrealistically odd tangent of conversation until Chris returned with his father.
    I was relieved to see my beau the homicide detective, but Wilson reminded me he was off-duty and out of his jurisdiction. Then he glanced down at the body and started issuing orders.
    “Get out,” he told Mother and me in no uncertain terms. “And don’t touch anything. Jessie, help her down the stairs so she doesn’t have to use the railing. Go stand in the sand. In one spot. Do not wander around.”
    He turned to Chris. “You! Run up to The Big House. Tell whoever’s up there, no one leaves. Buster can guard the parking lot. Tell him to bring the police down here when they arrive.”
    He turned again, and in one step, made it to Tessie’s nightstand. Using the edge of the T-shirt he had thrown on, he picked up the receiver. “Move, people!” he ordered, and