Veils and Vengeance Read online

  “I will.” I tried to appear like that was a possibility and gave him a weak smile.

  After he left, I squeezed the card and noticed the red and brown sand falling from my fingertips. A few minutes later, the officers finished up their questions with the Connellys and Jon hurried to my side. “How are you holding up?”

  “I don’t know. I’m trying to relax.” The calm I sought had eluded me. It was work just to swallow the shudders from my frightened sobs earlier.

  “Why don’t we get you someplace where you can rest?” Jon held out his hand and helped me up.

  Kyle and Malia had gathered all of our stuff along with the snorkeling gear. Malia gave me a hug. “I’m sorry, Adri. You did great, though.”

  Everyone looked out to the reef where several men were diving. A small crowd had gathered on the other end of the beach to gawk and the officers held them back.

  “Come on, we don’t need to stay to see this.” Heather took Neil’s hand. He appeared to be torn for a moment, but then he glanced at me and nodded.

  “She’s right, guys. That officer said we’re free to go.” He turned to Heather. “It’s a good thing, since he didn’t seem too happy that we had touched the body.”

  “I was checking for a pulse,” Heather replied.

  “I still don’t understand why you guys bothered checking,” Jon said. “It was obvious she was dead.”

  “She could have had a tank and been stuck down there,” Neil said. “We needed to make sure.”

  “I wonder who she was. The poor girl,” Heather murmured.

  With one glance back at the ocean, I turned and followed Jon to the road. I had been so excited to see the waves and colorful fish, but now all I could think about was the woman with green eyes and how there was something I should remember, but I couldn’t.

  Chapter 3

  WATERMELON SALAD

  6 cups mixed field greens

  1/2 cup thinly-sliced red onion

  1/2 cup carrot curls (or shreds)

  1/4 cup diced, toasted macadamia nuts

  1/2 cup crumbled Gorgonzola cheese

  1/2 cup per serving seedless watermelon, cubed

  Raspberry Vinaigrette

  1/4 cup seedless raspberry jam

  1/4 cup strawberry purée (fresh or frozen)

  1/4 cup apple cider vinegar

  1/4 cup balsamic vinegar

  1-1/4 cups salad oil (olive oil or vegetable)

  salt and pepper to taste

  In a small bowl, whisk all ingredients. Set aside. Yield: 2 -1/4 cups.

  Toss greens in large bowl with just enough raspberry vinaigrette to coat the greens.

  Divide greens into liberal portions on 4 plates. Garnish greens with remaining ingredients. Serve chilled.

  Courtesy of www.mashedpotatoesandcrafts.com

  It was almost four o’clock by the time we reached the resort in Poipu. The entryway of the Grand Hyatt exuded elegance with a rectangular chandelier that must have been the size of two large dining tables put together. The spacious area invited natural light for extra illumination, and as I walked through the courtyard, the heat warmed my skin.

  Malia had chosen the resort for her wedding activities and reception because it was close to the Connelly’s beach house in Koloa. The actual marriage would take place on the beach outside the hotel in a secluded area.

  The heady scent of plumeria welcomed me as I entered my room. Jon had given Malia and me each a lei at the airport, and the maid had draped mine over the lamp near my bed. I leaned closer and breathed in the scent. Then I remembered my camera. I took the lei and positioned it on the desk so that I could take several photos of the beautiful flowers to post on my blog.

  I busied myself with that task, struggling to keep my thoughts from dipping back into the ocean where I’d found the woman. After taking several pictures, I decided that the only relief I would find from the haunting images was to work on final wedding details. Grabbing a notebook and my planner, I left my room and headed for the front of the hotel.

  I approached the line of concierge desks. “Hi, I’m Adrielle Pyper—the wedding planner for the Connelly/Wright wedding. I’d like to go over a few things.”

  “Oh, what an exciting time. We love weddings.” A young woman straightened her chair and looked up at me. “Who have you been working with?”

  “Chelsea has been my main contact. Is she in today?” I glanced at the four other concierges, wondering which one might be Chelsea. One of the reasons Malia had selected the hotel was because they had plenty of expert staff who made it possible to do most of the planning from the mainland.

  “As a matter of fact, she is right there.” The young woman pointed at the end of the concierge desk to another young woman with dark hair plaited in neat corn rows that went halfway down her back.

  “Thank you.” I walked a few paces over, admiring her hair and wondering how much upkeep it took.

  “Chelsea? I’m Adrielle Pyper, the wedding planner from Sun Valley, Idaho.”

  Chelsea popped out of her chair and held out her hand. “Adri, it’s wonderful to meet you in person.” She shook my hand vigorously.

  “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you too.”

  “I bet you’re busy—it’s crunch time now.” Chelsea tapped her watch and grinned.

  “Malia and Kyle are counting down the days. All the major planning has been done, but there are a few housekeeping items I needed to follow up on.”

  “I jotted down a few things from the last time we talked. Let me get to my notes.” Chelsea sat down and motioned for me to follow. I slid into the cushioned chair and placed my planning binder on her desk.

  “Okay, here it is. Malia Wright and Kyle Connelly.” She tapped the end of her pen on her cheek.

  “As arranged,” I started, “the wedding party will all be attending the luau on Saturday night. I want to make sure there are enough leis for the guests. We had planned for thirty-five, but I think we need forty-two.” I let my hand hover over that item in my planner, waiting to check it off.

  Chelsea flipped through her book and then studied her computer screen. “Hmm, just a minute.” The clicking sound increased as she opened new documents and shuffled through papers. I noticed her dark skin looked flushed, and she swallowed several times. Finally she turned to me. “I’m sorry, but there’s been a mistake. If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and practically ran toward the front desk.

  Reminding myself to take deep breaths, I attempted to rein in my worries. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be that bad. After a few minutes of running crazy scenarios through my mind, I flipped to a new page in my planner and double-checked the list of things I needed to do tomorrow.

  Ten minutes later, Chelsea approached. I stood and clutched my planner tightly to my side.

  “Ms. Pyper, it seems that we’ve run into a little trouble.”

  I dragged my palms along my shorts, and reminded myself that it couldn’t be anything serious. Lorea had assisted me in going over final arrangements with Malia just before we left Idaho. But then I noticed the way Chelsea’s hand trembled as she flipped absently through her notebook again.

  “One of the other concierges who worked here for only two weeks scheduled an event the same day as your private luau.”

  “What? But that’s impossible. We’ve had this scheduled for over six months.”

  She cleared her throat. “It looks like their luau was scheduled three weeks ago.”

  I lifted my eyebrows. “And I don’t see the problem.”

  “We need your help.” Chelsea leaned forward and lowered her voice. “We’ll work with you, but we can’t cancel the other booking.”

  “But I’ve had this planned for six months. Thirty people are flying over from the mainland to attend the wedding.”

  “Which is why we’re going to do everything to make sure you’re happy.” She removed an invisible piece of lint from her waistline. “Please, will y
ou sit down with me for a moment and see if we can get this worked out?”

  My blood pressure was rising, and heat flushed my neck. “Everything has been worked out. As I said, we reserved rooms and times over six months ago.”

  “Believe me, if there was any way we could cancel the other booking, we would, but it just isn’t possible.” Chelsea hesitated and looked me in the eye. “We’re prepared to upgrade your rooms and provide you with added amenities and upgraded service for your events.”

  “Why is this other client more important than my bride and groom? We’ve already paid very good money for the deposits.” I was having trouble keeping the frustration out of my voice. I liked Chelsea. On one level, I knew this wasn’t her fault, but she was the one who could help me fix it.

  She looked down at her feet and spoke softly. “They aren’t more important. We will look at each and every reservation and see where either party can budge.”

  “So you’re not going to tell me who they are?” I slumped down into the chair.

  Chelsea sat across from me and toggled her mouse. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, you’ve been saying that a lot,” I snapped. I rubbed my forehead and tried to readjust my thinking. It sounded like there was no way out of the problem, so I needed to figure a way around it.

  “We’ve come up with a few ideas and some extras we’d like to add to help smooth this over,” Chelsea offered.

  “I don’t need extras. I need to know why my booking is suffering because of someone else’s error.”

  “Here’s a list of alternate times for your wedding luau. Could you at least consider if any of them might work?” Chelsea handed me a paper with times circled in red.

  Every part of me wanted to rip the paper to shreds and throw it back in her face, but my training reminded me that this scenario wasn’t her fault. I took a few steadying breaths and tried to switch my viewpoint.

  Malia had wanted a sunset wedding with a luau afterwards, but now it looked as if that was no longer an option on Saturday night. There were offered times earlier in the day on Saturday and also Friday and Sunday night, but none of those would work. Some guests wouldn’t arrive until Friday and others were leaving Sunday night. Malia and Kyle were planning to fly to Maui Sunday morning for the rest of their honeymoon.

  The words blurred before me. I was too exhausted to figure it out, but still I kept trying to think of an alternative. I would have to break the news to Malia—the thought made me want to cry. I wondered if we could switch venues, but at this late date, it was doubtful anything could be secured. Then I thought of something.

  “We have a contract—you have to honor our arrangements.”

  Chelsea nodded. “Of course, it’s our every intention—”

  “No.” I held up my hand. “Let me finish. We will be having a luau on Saturday night as planned. There are no other alternatives for my wedding party. You will have to hold two luaus on that night or find a way to combine the two parties, yet keep some elements separate.”

  Her face looked splotchy with heat patches popping up on her cheeks, nose, and chin.

  “The grounds here are large enough that you could extend the other luau farther down, closer to the beach front. I’m confident in your abilities. I’ll stop by first thing in the morning to see the new sketches for the layout you’ve drawn up and work out seating arrangements.”

  “But, Ms. Pyper. Please.” Chelsea addressed me formally, but I noticed the tremor in her voice.

  I stood. “And thank you for making certain that I’m happy with my choice of wedding venues.” I walked away as she continued to sputter.

  They would figure it out. That long line of concierge tables might be running madly, but they could do it. I was reminded again that it wasn’t the resort’s fault, but I knew they would make it right. I wasn’t going to worry about it any longer.

  Thankful that the Connellys hadn’t planned anything else for the evening, I retired to my room. The restaurants didn’t appeal to me, but ordering room service in my pajamas did. My cell phone buzzed just as I pulled the elastic from my hair. It was Malia.

  “This is Adri.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  I swallowed and thought about the double-booking fiasco, then realized she was asking me how I fared after finding the body. With a shudder I answered, “Ready to forget this whole day.”

  “That’s what I thought. It’s really not fair—this is our first official day here.” Malia said. “I’m not ending it like this. Will you meet us for dinner?”

  “No, you and Kyle go on ahead. You don’t want me there. I was about to call room service and change into my pajamas.”

  “Uh-uh, you’re coming to dinner with us—all of us. Everyone is upset about what happened, so Neil and Heather wanted us to go out. Jon is especially worried about you.”

  My stomach flipped when she mentioned Jon, and I chided myself. “I appreciate it Malia, but you go on ahead.”

  “Adri, I’m not taking no for an answer. Jon is on his way to pick you up. Neil pulled some major strings, and we’re meeting at the Beach House Restaurant. It’s famous because as you dine, you can look out and see the sun setting over the ocean. Get ready, ’cause you don’t want to miss this!”

  She hung up before I could protest again. I groaned and fell back on my bed. I was tired, but I accepted that I didn’t have much choice in the matter since I was the employee in the situation. If I called Malia back and begged, she might relent, but it was best to humor her happy demeanor.

  Already half-undressed, I looked longingly at my cotton pajamas, then turned to my closet and pulled on the hot-pink maxi dress I’d purchased just for this trip. It was fitted around the bust-line and then fell to just above the floor in a silky, soft polyester that would look nice for the restaurant and keep me cool at the same time.

  My hair was unruly and the humidity had doubled the amount of blonde curls I usually dealt with. Back home in the dry desert air, I sported an ugly wave, but I had to admit the curls induced by humidity made me feel pretty. I grabbed a silver headband and slipped it into place. My hand had just closed around my tube of mascara when a staccato knocking sounded on the door. Malia hadn’t been joking when she said Jon was on his way.

  What to do? I wanted to touch up my makeup, but I needed to find my sandals too. I thought about hollering “just a minute,” but I didn’t want to leave him standing awkwardly in the hall. Leaning close to the mirror, I swiped on my mascara and then hurried to the door.

  When I pulled it open, Jon stepped back. “Wow, you look amazing.”

  Tingling warmth swept up the back of my neck, and I forgot what I was going to say.

  Jon held out his hand. “Are you ready?”

  I stared at him. His sun-bleached hair still held the tousled look, and he sported cargo shorts and a white and blue-striped button-up shirt. The top two buttons were undone, and he wore a simple white seashell necklace that was indicative of all things Hawaiian—it looked nice against his golden skin. I stood there staring until my brain registered that he’d asked me if I was ready. “Um—yeah.”

  “You sure?” He glanced down at my feet and winked.

  My face went up a few degrees in heat. “Give me one minute.” I turned to re-enter my room. The door clicked shut—he would have to stand in the hall while I got a handle on myself.

  Fanning my face, I grabbed my sandals and slipped them on, checked my reflection in the mirror, and commanded myself to act natural. It wasn’t the time to go gaga over Jon Connelly or anyone for that matter. I squared my shoulders and opened the door.

  Jon was all smiles. “Ready now?”

  I allowed myself to relax. “Yes, thanks for waiting. Malia didn’t give me too much of a heads up.”

  “She didn’t want to give you an opportunity to bomb out.” He chuckled. “She told me to make sure I didn’t leave the hotel without you.”

  After working with someone as closely as we had for the
past six months, it was safe to say Malia knew me well. I thought of my assistant, Lorea, and how she was always encouraging me to step outside my comfort zone. I missed her, and wished again that she could have come along. Malia had offered to fly her out too, but Lorea’s sister was getting married the same day as Malia and Kyle. There was no way around it, so Lorea had stayed in Idaho, citing that the Zubiondo family gatherings were better than any beachside luau.

  I glanced at Jon as we exited the hotel. “Thanks for coming to get me. I’ll be honest—I didn’t want to come.”

  “But it’ll be good for you.” He touched my elbow, guiding me toward a silver convertible. “Here’s our ride.”

  He opened my door with a flourish and I slid onto the leather seats. “Is this a rental?”

  “It’s mine.” Jon beamed. “For now. I leased it—cheaper than renting all the time. The restaurant is only about five miles away. Hope your hair doesn’t mind driving with the top down.”

  “No, my hair doesn’t mind,” I replied. “And neither do I.”

  “Did I mention that you are smokin’ hot?”

  My cheeks flushed even as I told myself not to take him seriously. Jon was just flattering me. “Thanks, I think.”

  “Really, you were turning every head on our way out of the hotel.”

  “Maybe they were looking at you—surfer boy.”

  He grinned. “I’m not that great at surfing—more swimming, scuba, snorkeling.”

  “It’d be fun to try surfing, but I like swimming.” I almost said snorkeling, but then remembered why we were going to this impromptu dinner and swallowed instead.

  Jon seemed to notice the shift in the conversation too, because he started pointing out different trees: a flowering bush in full bloom with dark pink flowers trailing over glossy green leaves, another tree with a vine of purple flowers twisted around the trunk. “Nothing like driving off into the sunset to set the mood for the evening, eh?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You should have been a comedian.”

  “Not trying to be funny. It really is a nice evening, and here we are.” He pulled up to the Beach House Restaurant and helped me from the car. “I’ll show you why people like to come here.”