Read Maui Widow Waltz (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) for Free Online Page B

morning.”
    He paused and looked over his right
shoulder at the assembly of uniformed men standing behind him as if giving them
an opportunity to step up and disagree with his facts. No one so much as twitched
a cheek muscle.
    “Commander Roman of the Coast
Guard’s Search and Rescue team will now present the latest information on the
rescue and recovery effort.”
    He nodded toward a puppy-faced guy
in dress whites who looked much too young to even be in the Coast Guard, let
alone hold the rank of commander. Commander Roman stepped forward and pulled
himself up to his full height in an attempt to reach the microphones. He missed
the mark by a good three inches. He fiddled with the center mic, pulling it
down toward his chin while the sound popped and squealed.
    “Since when did the Coast Guard
start recruiting munchkins?” Farrah said, peering at the screen. “That dude
looks about twelve years old.”
    I nodded in agreement.
    “Good afternoon. I’m Commander
Roman of the Coast Guard’s Search and Rescue Squad based here at Pearl Harbor,”
he said in a deep voice that added at least a decade to his appearance. “Our
report today concerns the finding of debris in the waters of Au’au Channel—the
strait between the islands of Maui and Molokai. At fourteen hundred hours
yesterday afternoon, a Hawaiian-style shirt and rubber thong sandal were
located at sea approximately one-quarter mile from where Mr. Sander’s boat
beached at Kapalua. An acquaintance identified the items as matching similar
clothing worn by the victim at the time of his disappearance. This evidence,
coupled with a weeklong land and sea operation which has failed to locate Mr.
Sanders, has prompted us to halt the rescue and recovery effort until further
notice.” He paused.  “At this time, we’ll take questions from the media.”
    Dozens of reporters’ hands shot up
while some just shouted out questions. After a few minutes of mostly pointless
back and forth, with the Coast Guard saying, “We have no knowledge,” or “We
can’t discuss that at this time,” Farrah turned the sound down.
    “He’s a goner,” she said, looking
up to check the round curved mirror used to spot shoplifters.
    I shook my head.“An aloha shirt and a rubbah slippa ? That’s not evidence. I’ll bet the next guy who
walks through your door will be wearing those same things.”
    The bell on the door jingled and a
bare-chested surfer wearing board shorts held up only by the grace of his
protruding hipbones burst in. He was barefoot.
    I glanced at the No shirt, No
shoes, No problem sign above the door.
    “Okay, well maybe not here in
Pa’ia,” I said. “But in Lahaina, every haole tourist on Front Street is
decked out in either a red dirt tee-shirt or an aloha shirt. And
everybody wears rubbah slippas to go on a boat.”
    “Pali, I know you’ve got a lot
riding on doing this dudette’s wedding. But let’s face it. This thing’s got
only two ways to go: One, he became shark chum the night he disappeared—which
means they’ll never find as much as a tooth—or, two, before long totally wasted
body parts will start washing up on the beach. Either way, this wedding is pau —over.”
    “I can only deal with what I know.
And right now, what I know is I have just five days to pull off a big bucks
wedding.”
    “Exactly.”
    “And your point is…?”
     “C’mon, Pali, think about it.
Why does she want this fake wedding anyway?” Farrah reached over and snapped
off the TV. “Answer? And here’s a big hint: everybody says this guy owns a
multi-million dollar tech company. No doubt he’s loaded. Your girl wants that
M-R-S in front of her name before they get around to issuing the death
certificate. The grieving widow is always first in line when they divvy up the
goods.”
    “Whoa,” I said. “What’s happened to
you? I figured you’d be firing up the incense and extolling the virtues of
undying love.”
    “I don’t extol for shameless