Through May 17th, you can get Can You Hula Like Hilo Hattie? for a mere 99 cents. Cousin Reynalda, who loves all things sales, says it’s a steal and “go for it”.
It’s JJ today, the one who narrates our exciting adventures—or mis-adventures as we sometimes laughingly call them—as the novice private eyes of the Triple Threat Investigation Agency.
Hula’s our first paying case. Rey, Linda and I have to find out what an elderly millionaire’s pretty, young wife is up to. He thinks it’s an affair. Unfortunately, before we can discover her secret, she’s found floating in the Pacific.
Rey drew another long breath. “How long has she been gone?”
I checked. “Twelve minutes, give or take.”
“Carmie’s colder,” I murmured, unable to quash the morbid desire to peer down. Contusions and scratches were visible on flesh not concealed by a raspberry tank top, currant-red shorts, white gym socks and adidas Stella McCartney runners. Bruises discolored her long neck and face, and a mammoth bump overlaid half her forehead. “I wonder what she was thinking the last few moments.”
“You mean, did she see her life flash before her eyes?” Once again she regarded Carmie. “Did she know her killer? Did she scream if she didn’t? Did she fight?”
“And if there was no killer, did she realize she was plunging to her death when she lost footing?”
“Two summers ago, Lynne, a social contact who got a few good commercial gigs—and stole two of mine—had been hit by one of those ice-cream trucks with the clown face and annoying ringa-ringa-ling. She swore when she went down she saw Jim Morrison dressed in white leather leaning against tall gates made of diamonds and rubies, and waving her over. On the other side of the glittering gates was a river of champagne winding through fields of Little Debbie Jelly Creme Pies and Swiss Rolls.”
I shifted and stared, my expression not unlike Dorothy, the Golden Girls Bea Arthur character, would present one of her roommates when they said something utterly absurd.
Rey looked affronted. “I’m just telling you what she told me.”
Sighting something from the corner of my eye, I glanced upward. “The first responders are here.”
Before you know it, we’re finding more bodies, getting in the way of ornery drug dealers and p’o’d gang members—and they in ours! It becomes increasingly more complicated if not complex as we track clues . . . never mind becomes precarious when we ask questions people would prefer we didn’t ask.
Perhaps you’d like to check us out? We’d be very appreciative if you did.