Candy expels a guttural sound as she wiggles her beach balls at Koa. “What I mean is, my followers would absolutely die to see island authority figures in some of my content. You have amazing bone structure. In fact, your entire body is very camera-friendly.”
Erwin turns colors that threaten to land him toes up in the morgue.
And me without my camera.
“I do love me a good detective.” Halea abandons Erwin’sside and immediately glides toward Koa as if gravity suddenly shifted in his direction. Darn it. Why did I have to turn him onto her sites? The woman is a passion bomb waiting to happen. “How wonderful to meet one of Kauai’s finest! I’m Halea Palani, and I have to say, island law enforcement is much more attractive than I expected.”
I shoot her a look for stating the obvious.
She somehow manages to position herself so that her impressive cleavage is at an optimal viewing angle while maintaining eye contact. It’s a skill that should probably be studied by physicists, and well, me.
I shoot Erwin a look, too, for not only surrounding himself with the most beautiful women he could find, but with the most amply endowed.
Koa’s expression doesn’t change, but I catch a slight tightening around his eyes that suggests he’s categorizing Halea under potential professional headache. Or at least, I’m hoping. Although that’s not saying much, considering that’s the exact category he files me under.
“Ma’am,” he says politely to the woman. “Enjoy your stay on the island.”
“Oh, I plan to,” she replies with a smile that could melt steel—and peel the pants off a lesser man. “Perhaps you could show me some of the more...intimatelocal spots? I’m always interested in cultural immersion, and I would love a private tour.”
I clear my throat without meaning to. Okay, fine, I meant to, but it was either that or tossing her to the chickens.
Private tour? I’m pretty sure she’s not talking about museums.
Ugh. If that woman gets to second base with him before I do, I’ll officially retire from the dating scene and become a cat lady. The resort cats are already halfway trained.
I catch Spam eyeing me from the windowsill.
Another car arrives—this time an airport shuttle van that looks like it’s seen better decades. The door slides open with a mechanical wheeze, and out steps a woman who makes the phraseforce of natureseem like an understatement.
I gasp so hard, I think I just inhaled an entire swarm of mosquitoes. Because just like that, a nuke has dropped in front of us, and as it stands, Coconut Cove Paradise Resort just turned into ground zero.
Big Bertha Julep is seventy-something years of floral polyester and orthopedic shoe authority. Her short steel-gray hair is set in a permanent wave that could survive a category five hurricane, and she’s carrying a purse large enough to conceal a small tank. She surveys the resort grounds with a critical eye usually reserved for crime scenes. And well, since the resort has been a crime scene a time or two, I’d say her radar was pretty much on target.
“Well, well, well,” she sneers at the chickens, the roosters, and the cats, “this is certainly... rustic.”
“Mother!” Erwin hurries over to help her with her suitcase, which appears to weigh approximately as much as a compact car. “How was the flight?”
“Turbulent. Like everything else in this family.” Her gazelands on me with an accusatory look. “Hello, Justine. I see you’re stillmanagingthings. Or is it mismanaging that you’re doing?”
There’s enough subtext in that sentence to write a dissertation—and write a murder mystery, too. I’m sensing a theme. Speaking of which, where’s the Grim Reaper when you really need him?
I jest.
Mostly.
“Hello, Bertha.” I manage to keep my voice level. “Welcome to the Coconut Cove Paradise Resort.”
“Hmm.” She takes in the transformed pool area, the tropical flowers, the tiki torches, and the general organized chaos of wedding preparation just beyond the lobby doors. “I suppose it’s an improvement from when you and Erwin were married. At least now there’s some effort being made toward proper event planning.”
Ruby scoffs at the thought.
“The accommodations are adequate, I trust?” Bertha continues, her tone suggesting that adequate would be a minor miracle.
“Your suite is ready,” I confirm. “I can show you?—”
“Oh my goodness, are you the mother of the groom?” Candy appears beside us, ring light in hand, the bright white circle already trained on her face. “This is perfect! I absolutely have to get some content with three generations of strong women! Bertha, Sphynx, and me—it’s like a beautiful story of family evolution!”
First, I’m not shocked she hasn’t met Bertha yet. Heck, she’s hardly metErwinyet. Second, how exactly is this a generational picture? And third, Sphynx, really? Although I must admit, it’s a slight improvement from Jinx.
