“No problem. I know how easy it is to lose track of things when you’re in a hurry.” I hand over the fabric with a smile that I hope says friendly resort manager rather than amateur detective conducting unauthorized interrogation. “You certainly seemed to know your way around chocolate tempering in there. You had a very impressive technique.”
Ruby appears at my elbow with the stealth of a busybody who’s perfected the art of eavesdropping while pretending to scrape chocolate off her muumuu. Lani hovers nearby, cleaning cocoa powder from her hair but clearly positioning herself to catch every word of our conversation.
“Oh, chocolate is just a hobby,” Giselle says, though her casual tone doesn’t quite match the way her hands tighten around the sarong. “I enjoy experimenting with dessert cocktails, so I like to understand the ingredients. I’m a pastry chef by trade. But like I said, chocolate is just a hobby—my favorite hobby.”
“It sounds like the best hobby,” I say as we share a quick laugh. “Well, aloha and welcome to paradise. Have you been to Hawaii before?”
“It’s my first time,” she says quickly. “But I do my research before traveling. I like to be prepared, and I just knew I had to see this place.” She looks at the facility around us with wide-eyed wonder.
The gray tabby with white paws materializes, followed by his orange companion, who settles beside a display of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts as if it were looking to store up on the sweet treats for winter.
“It was such a terrible thing that happened last night,” I say with a touch of sympathy because I’ve learned that murder makes an excellent ice breaker. “I can’t believe something like that happened right there at our little resort.”
Giselle’s perfectly composed expression shifts slightly. “Oui, very shocking. Poor Coraline. She was...” She pauses, I’m guessing to edit her thoughts. “She was very passionate about her work.”
“That she was. Although judging by the tension earlier in the evening. I was starting to think you two had some kind of disagreement?” I ask, doing my best impression of innocent curiosity, as if I definitely didn’t witness a slapping incident that could be heard by marine life.
She cringes a little. “I guess you could say we had a small professional difference of opinion,” I can’t help but note that her voice takes on the careful tone of a person who’s rehearsed this explanation. “She felt my dessert cocktail approach was too... how do you say...unconventional. The slap was completely uncalled for.” She takes a moment to glare at the chocolate mess before us. “I know you saw it. Everyone did. The woman humiliated me.”
It was probably just me who saw it, but I don’t bother denying the fact.
“There was another woman arguing with Coraline, too,” I continue. “Did you see her? She was wearing a colorful, flowing maxi dress, a wide-brimmed hat, and she had on oversized sunglasses even though it was evening?”
“Sunglasses at night?” Giselle’s eyebrows rise with what appears to be genuine confusion. “Non, I did not notice her. But then, I was rather upset after...” She touches her cheek wherethe slap had landed. “I’m not accustomed to being assaulted in public, or private, for that matter.”
“Any idea who that might have been? Someone local, maybe? A business associate?”
“I really could not say,” Giselle says as she ponders it for a moment. “Though if anyone would know, it would be Breezy. That man seemed to know everyone at the party. Very social,très charmant. Perhaps too helpful, if you know what I mean.” The way she says “too helpful” makes it sound like a character flaw rather than a virtue.
She frowns at the crowd like she knows all too well. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he’s hit on her a time or two. Breezy might be a looker, but so is Giselle.
“Too helpful how?” Lani asks, unable to resist joining the conversation while still pretending to clean chocolate from her wooden spoon.
“He appeared so quickly when Coraline and I had our disagreement,” Giselle says, her tone suggesting this timing was suspicious rather than chivalrous. “Almost like he was watching, waiting for the right moment to play the hero. The man obviously wants to land in my bed.”
Knew it.
“Maybe he was just being a decent human being,” Ruby offers, though her voice carries the skepticism of a woman who’s learned that decent human beings are often an endangered species.
“Perhaps,” Giselle agrees, but her smile tells me that she thinks otherwise. “Or perhaps he knows more about what happened last night than he is willing to share. Including who that mysterious woman might have been.”
The tour guide steps over, smiling apologetically.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she says, “but we’re getting ready to close for cleanup. If you could take your conversation outside, we’d appreciate it.”
“Of course,” I say, realizing our interrogation location is being revoked due to our inability to consume chocolate without wearing half of it.
“I should go,” Giselle says, seizing the opportunity to escape, or at least it feels that way. “Mahalo again for returning my sarong.”
She hurries toward the parking lot with a speed that signals she’s either very eager to leave or very late for another chocolate-making appointment.
“Well,” Ruby says, surveying the chocolate disaster area that was once a respectable tourist attraction, “that was educational.”
“Very,” Lani agrees, tucking her wooden spoon back into her apron. “Did you notice how quickly she pointed suspicion toward Breezy? That’s a classic deflection technique if ever there was one.”
“Looks like she really didn’t see anything,” I say, watching Giselle’s rental car vanish around the bend as if she were about to flee the country.
A factory worker clears her throat pointedly, and we realize we’re still standing in the middle of what looks like the aftermath of a chocolate nuclear explosion.
