Choreographed Crime (Miss Demeanor 3)

Choreographed Crime

Miss Demeanor Series

Book 3

Jackie Marilla

Excerpt from Choreographed Crime

Lama whipped up a Spam loco moco.  The smell of the rich brown gravy drew Maile into the kitchenette.  “Thanks for showing me the skyline.  It reminds me I live in a beautiful place.  It’s not Hawai’i, but Seattle has its own charm.”

He turned from the stove and looked at her as if he adored her.  On impulse, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him until her lips ached.

When he released her, she helped herself to a beer.

“I thought you didn’t want to drink and drive.” Lama looked over his shoulder as he stirred the gravy.

“Who’s driving?” Maile smiled and raised her eyebrows.

Choreographed Crime

A Books to Go Now Publication

Copyright © Jackie Marilla 2015

Books to Go Now

Cover Design by Romance Novel Covers Now

Also published on Smashwords

For information on the cover illustration and design, contact [email protected]

First eBook Edition - October 2015

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

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Dedication

Mahalo nui loa to my dear friends, Randi Hoefing and Karla Nekola, for your unconditional love and support.  I can’t imagine my world without you.

Look for Jackie Marilla’s other titles

Only on Valentine’s Day

Love Those Hula Hips

Lesson Plan for Love, Story 2, The Pancake Club

The Pancake Club Anthology

Always on Christmas

Christmas in the Sun Anthology

Unleashed Love, Book One, Sheltered Love

Chapter One

Maile Kuhiwinui tilted her head back as she watched the construction workers hoist the Miss Demeanor Private Detective Agency sign into place. A few of the business owners from Pioneer Square gathered around and clapped as soon as the workmen secured the sign. They shook hands with the women and welcomed them to the business community. June from the art studio next door passed a tray of champagne to Maile and her new partners—River, Shay, and Cassie.

The bubbles from the champagne tickled her nose. She’d rather have a beer—a microbrew from Hawai’i would be nice right about now, but Maile knew better than to drink beer during work hours. It was just her nerves. She loved Seattle and her new partners, but after five months it still didn’t feel like home.

River pointed to the entrance door. “Shall we?”

“If we’re going to be ready for our grand opening tomorrow, we better get started.” Shay rubbed her palms together.

Cassie looped her arm through Shay’s and followed River into their ground level office space.

Maile froze. This was what she’d yearned for, wasn’t it? A chance to be her own boss and investigate cases rather than staying in what seemed like a dead end job on the police force in Hilo, Hawai’i.

She’d been so excited to vacation in Seattle five months ago with the three women she’d originally met in a chat room called Lady Cops. It was River’s idea to start the agency, and with help from River’s Uncle Mike they were able to scrape together the funds.

Now, it seemed like a rash decision. She missed her
‘ohana
, especially her Auntie Lei, surfing at Honoli’i, and good Hawaiian food. At thirty-three, she sure as hell didn’t want to admit to her new friends that she felt homesick. She shook her head and rolled her shoulders.

River poked her head out the door. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah. Just admiring our sign.”

Three weeks later, Maile arrived at the office just in time for the Monday morning meeting. She still didn’t understand how her partners left the apartment building in Capitol Hill after she did and arrived ahead of her. Her hands still felt clammy from clutching the wheel. Merging onto the interstate in the tangle of traffic made her heart race. The Big Island had no interstates, so she had zero experience driving on them.

She pulled up a chair in the conference room and reached for a croissant.

Cory, the administrative assistant, scampered into the room with a cardboard tray of five Starbucks Venti size coffee cups. Maile loved the cappuccinos, but she wanted more for breakfast than a fancy piece of bread and a cup of coffee. She craved the flavors of kalua pork
loco moco
with its white rice topped with salty shredded pork and a fried egg smothered in brown gravy. Just the thought of one made her mouth water. She’d tried several of the so-called Hawaiian restaurants, but no one made
kalua
pork
loco
like Hilo’s Café 100.

Cassie nudged her. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Cory set up her iPad and Maile’s stomach clenched. By now she knew the routine—everyone took turns and talked about their cases and asked for assistance when needed. She might as well just stuff her mouth full of pastry. She didn’t have anything to share again this week.

River said she made progress on her case and would be out of the office all day for the next two days to follow up on her interviews. Shay said she’d also made progress on her case. Cassie said since her case was the newest one, she didn’t have much to report yet.

As they discussed the three cases, Maile slunk lower into her chair. The longer they talked, the more Maile squirmed. She wondered if she’d ever get her first case as a private investigator. So far, she’d only done research on where to find Hawaiian food.

Her partners all took their cups of coffee and headed out the door. Maile looked at Cory. “I guess it’s just you and me again.”

Cory flipped her blue hair behind her ear. “Scrabble or Cribbage?”

Four hours later, Maile stared at her laptop screen and checked off the Hawaiian restaurants she’d already tried. She discounted the ones that served Korean Barbecue, Filipino or Asian cuisine. She wanted Hawaiian fare—salty, shredded pork, sticky white rice and a fried egg covered in rich brown gravy. She chose her destination and entered the address in her cell phone.

In the reception area, Maile grabbed her rain jacket from the coat rack. “I’m going for lunch, Cory. Do you want me to bring you back anything?”

“Hawaiian food?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll pass. I’ll go get something when you get back in the office.”

Maile walked out the front door and headed for her Jeep. She loved her four-wheel drive vehicle and needed it on the Big Island to get to some of the best beaches. She ran her hand over the license plates. She knew the state of Washington expected people to transfer their registrations in a timely manner, but she didn’t feel ready to give up the rainbow splashed across her Hawai’i plates.

The address for the food truck was near the Seattle Center. Maile followed the auditory directions perfectly until she came to the intersection at First Avenue and Denny Way and couldn’t get into her turn lane. She drove around the block to get in the correct lane only to find there were no free parking spots near the Happy Hawaiian food truck. After going around the block four times, she gave up and paid for parking in a lot five blocks from the truck.

Maile grabbed her purse and tugged on her rain jacket. As she walked toward the food truck, rain started to dampen her hair.
This better be worth it
, she thought.

She ducked under the awning and read the chalkboard menu while she waited in line behind a group of three. It was a good sign that the guy in the truck looked Hawaiian.

“Howzit?” the guy asked her when she got up to the counter.

Maile stared at the man who sported a bright yellow shirt decorated with red hibiscus flowers. He wore a baseball cap backwards over his head and slouched over the service counter. It looked like he probably bumped his head all the time on the ceiling of his truck.

“I’m good. I’d like the
kalua
pork
loco
, extra gravy.”

The guy stared at her for a moment. “You from Hawai’i?”

Maile nodded. “The Big Island.”

“Shoots! Me too. Kona side?” He bobbed his head.

“Hilo born and raised.”

“The rainy side.”

“Yeah.” Maile screwed up her mouth.

“I’m Kalama Haleamau. Nickname’s Lama.”

“Maile Kuhiwinui. Nice to meet you, Lama.”

“I’ll get your
loco
. On the house this time.”

“
Mahalo
.”

Lama turned his back to fix her food. Maile noticed his shiny black hair pulled into a ponytail that trailed half way down his back.

He handed her a Styrofoam food box. Heat from the food permeated the container and warmed her hands while the aroma warmed her heart.

Maile took the box and plastic fork to the one and only picnic table. At least it was under a portable shelter. She licked her lips and dove her fork into the layers of pork, egg, rice and gravy. Her taste buds came alive with the first bite.

She glanced over at the food truck and gave Lama a thumbs-up. He gestured to her with the familiar shaka sign and a big grin.

****

Lama tried not to stare at the
wahine
from the Big Island. He turned his back to the counter and started to chop green onion for
ahi poke
. The fresh tuna was already cubed and marinating in soy sauce, sesame oil, macadamia nuts, crushed red peppers and sesame seeds. Lama added the onion and gently tossed it into the mixture. He’d love to offer some of his specialty to Maile, but it took two hours to marinate.

As soon as he covered the bowl and stashed it in the refrigerator, he glanced out at her.
Portuguese-Hawaiian
, he thought.
And no ring
.

Edward, one of Lama’s best customers, approached the truck. “Aloha,” Lama greeted him. “So sorry to hear about Floriano. Why would he…?

“Take his own life? We are as baffled as you, my friend.”

“Please give my aloha to everyone, especially Clarissa.”

“Yes. Clarissa. She’s devastated. You can only imagine what it’s like to lose your partner in ballet. We started practice with the understudy today. Black Swan opens in six weeks.”

“Do you think I should call her? Stop by?”

“I think not. I’ll give her your regards. And some of your miso soup. She hasn’t eaten for days. Your soup is the only food she’s interested in.”

Lama nodded. “One miso soup coming up.”

Edward handed Lama a ten and waited for his change. He stuffed one dollar in the tip jar while he waited.

Lama ladled miso soup into a Styrofoam bowl. The aroma of miso reminded him of Clarissa. She only ordered the soup and it’s the only thing he’d ever seen her eat. He didn’t know how she survived—she weighed barely a hundred and ten pounds. The one time he’d made love to her, he thought he’d crush her. He still cared for her, but the break up had been his idea. They weren’t cut from the same cloth. He considered himself a simple guy who loved to cook and Clarissa a ballet diva all refined and artsy and fragile. He hadn’t seen her since they broke up a month ago.

He stepped out of the food truck and carried the bag to Edward.

“See you soon.” Edward waved over his shoulder.

Lama roamed over to the picnic table and sat down with Maile.

She took her last bite and closed her eyes. “I think I love you.”

Lama grinned.

“I better get back to work.” Maile stood up and patted her belly.

“Just to let you know, I have a fresh batch of
ahi poke
in the fridge. Should be ready by three o’clock.”

“Three o’clock, huh?”

“I could save you some. Best in the city.” Lama rubbed his chin.

“Are you still open at five-thirty?”

“Not usually, but I’ll wait if I know you’re coming.”

“See you later, then.”

Lama watched Maile walk away. She had the body of a surfer and loved his cooking.
Just my type
, he thought.