A commotion near the main building catches our attention. Someone’s shouting, and it sounds like Melanie’s voice reaching frequencies that could shatter glass and summon a pod of dolphins.
“What now?” May mutters, glancing over her shoulder.
“Probably just another resort malfunction,” I say, but something about the tone makes my skin prickle with unease.
“Anyway, Savannah can probably verify that I left my water bottle there, too,” May goes on. “I mean, she knew I was in her class that afternoon,” May says, oblivious to the growing chaos behind us. “And just FYI, I really like Savannah. She was the only person who was genuinely nice to me when I first got here. She didn’t judge me, didn’t pry into my past, just welcomed me as if I belonged.”
“That was very nice of her.”
“It was. Especially considering she probably knew I was trouble from day one. That woman sees everything, knows everyone’s business before they know it themselves. But she kept my secrets, you know? Even when Nolan was threatening to expose me, Savannah never said a word to anyone about what she’d figured out.”
The shouting gets louder, and I can see people starting to move toward the commotion. But something about what May just said makes me freeze.
“And she never said anything to anyone?”
“Never. Not a word. Even when those rumors started going around about me—and trust me, on an island this small, rumors spread faster than wildfire—Savannah never confirmed or denied anything. Even when Nolan was being particularly nasty, using those whispers against me, she just kept saying everyone deserves a second chance to build the life they want, that paradise is supposed to be about new beginnings.”
The pieces in my brain start rearranging themselves like a puzzle that’s been assembled wrong from the beginning. Savannah knowing May’s secrets. Savannah protecting her. Icertainly know that isn’t true. It was Savannah herself who told me all the dirty details about May’s dicey identity.
Savannah is looking a bit two-faced right about now.
Savannah, with her extensive knowledge of plants and their properties…
“May,” I say slowly. “When you went back to the garden that night, was Savannah there?”
“Of course, she was. She’s always there late, tending to something or planning the next day’s work. That woman lives and breathes that garden.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Just for a minute. She was pretty agitated about something. She kept muttering about people who don’t understand the value of growing things, people who want to destroy what takes years to build.”
I gasp just hearing it. “Do you think she was talking about Nolan?”
“I don’t know, but she did say that some problems solve themselves if you’re patient enough.” May shrugs, missing the ominous undertones of that statement. “If she was talking about him, maybe she figured he’d get bored and move on to some other project?”
The ukuleles continue their gentle melody across the beach, and guests are still enjoying the feast under the twinkling lights. The evening is perfect,magicaleven, exactly what the resort needed.
May takes another bite of her malasada and heads back toward the other guests, satisfied that our conversation is over and she’s successfully defended herself.
But I stand frozen by the dessert table, my brain finally processing what I should have seen from the beginning.
I turn and look out at the water’s edge, where a silhouette stands against the moonlit waves, calm and still, while the party continues behind us.
I have a feeling I know exactly who killed Nolan Nakamura and why.
CHAPTER 23
The night air wraps around me like warm silk, thick with the scent of plumeria and the sound of the pineapple express rustling through palm fronds as if whispering.
Tiki torches flicker along the beach, their flames dancing in rhythm with Loco’s and Shaka’s ukuleles, while our guests feast on Lani’s magical spread under a canopy of stars so bright they look like someone scattered diamonds across black velvet just to show off.
It should be perfect. It is perfect. Except for the fact that I’m standing on the beach in a coconut shell bikini, realizing that all my suspicions about the killer are about to be confirmed, and I have no idea how to handle confronting a murderer who’s spent the last week being genuinely kind to me.
The silhouette by the water’s edge moves slightly, and I catch a glimpse of silver-streaked hair and the gentle posture of a woman who spends her days nurturing growing things.Someone who’s been here all evening, helping serve food, complementing our hula performance, playing the role of beloved community member as if she’s been perfecting that performance for years.
Savannah Cross, beloved community garden coordinator. Savannah Cross, who knew everyone’s secrets and protected those she cared about. Savannah Cross, who had more knowledge about plant toxicity than anyone else on the island.
Savannah Cross, who loved that garden enough to kill anyone who threatened to destroy it.
