Not an original title, but I never claimed to be a writer/blogger. Hey, it’s Rey today (gawd, I love that—illiteration I think Lindy-Loo calls it). Huh? Ah, okay – alliteration. So-o, it’s Day Two of the 99-cent promos for Can You Hula Like Hilo Hattie and, yeah, it’s a bargain. And a great stocking-stuffer, hint-hint.
JJ, Linda and I are hired to find out what a millionaire’s young wife is up to—as in, maybe she’s having an affair? It’s our first official case and we’re aiming to please! Unfortunately, we’ve barely begun when young wife is found dead. Floating in the Pacific. And not by accident.
As we’re trying to figure out who her killer is—from a long list of possible perps—we go head-to-head with gang members and drug dealers. This case proves to be one crazy, thrilling rollercoaster ride.
Here’s a “tidbit”, as told by Cousin Jilly…
I shrugged. “She has money—lots of it—courtesy of hubby. She’s too health conscious to be into drugs, at least to ingest. Her body would be a temple and all that. Moreover, drug suppliers tend to lean toward the seedy, at least the small players do, and I can’t see her associating with low-lifes. As for big drug-dealing guys and gals, no, I don’t see it.”
“But you had a gut feeling about the shop and it wasn’t because you had a hunch she got a good deal on hand cream and mac nuts. It appears to have paid off.” Linda slipped on her sandals, stood, and stretched. “What do you think this is all about, Jill—I mean, JJ?”
“She’s into something illegal, or at least suspect. We have to go with that because William so much as said that when he asked we find something on her,” I replied.
“And he knows exactly what it is,” Linda proposed. “Those bags could well be that ‘something’. You were brilliant to trick Salv into giving us the ‘same’.”
“Brilliant, maybe,” I said wryly, “but successful remains to be seen.”
Rey put on her slides. “The closed sign just went on. Let’s mosey on over to the entrance.”
“Would you take a couple of photos when Salv exits?” I asked Linda.
“Pics of a guy with bags coming up,” she said cheerily, pulling out a Sony digital camera from a small Hawaiian print knapsack, one of three purchased during a recent shopping excursion. “I’ll hang back a bit.” She glided toward a plumeria tree twenty feet from the main shop door.
A young couple carrying a couple of store bags stepped from the entrance, bid Salv good-night, and strolled to a Toyota Tercel rental. He waved, stepped back in and locked the door, then disappeared, likely to set an alarm and depart from the rear.
Rey and I moved forward and leaned into a waist-high railing that ran along the portico and was comprised of curved black balusters and light oak. The apparent aim was to provide a homey feel, but missed the mark.
“Waiting for me?” Salv gave a quick smile as he stepped from behind.
We jumped, having expected him to appear from the other side.
He chuckled and held up a big Sweet Paradise bag. “As requested. Who’s paying?”
“Carmie Howell had two bags, smart boy,” Rey said flatly.
“Why waste an extra? These babies are expensive.” He offered a toothy smile. Strange, but under the diffused lighting, he appeared to possess fangs. Before I could peer more closely, he closed his mouth.
I flipped my hair in a lame attempt to appear nonchalant. “Is it the same amount for the same stuff?”
He looked me up and down, and then did the same with Rey. “You’re not in the same league as Carmie Howell,” came the casual observation.
Rey squared her shoulders and eyed him up and down in return. “We didn’t luck in with the millionaire crowd, smart boy. So f’g what?”
“Keep trying. You may not have the years anymore,” he smirked, “but the looks are still there.”
Care to find out how we do, nudge, nudge? Please go to:
https://www.amazon.ca/Hula-Hattie-Triple-Threat-Mystery-ebook/dp/B01KEEBNOS
The Writer's Grab-Bag 