Maui Widow Waltz (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) Read Online Free

was
as closed as a pro poker player wearing mirrored sunglasses. He was tall and
powerfully built, with Calvin Klein model good looks, and dark wavy hair gelled
to perfection. He appeared a bit older than Lisa Marie, maybe late twenties or
early-thirties. He wore a pale blue Nike golf shirt and crisply-pressed khakis.
Clamped to his left wrist was a gaudy gold Rolex.  
    I usually size up men relative to
their martial arts potential, and this guy looked like a black belt waiting to
happen. My stomach did a little bump and grind, and I had to bite back the
audible swoon I’d have made if it had been me and Farrah checking out surfers
at the beach. After all, Kevin was a client—sort of. As I ordered my libido
back to its hole, I decided if Brad Sanders ever did show up I might allow
myself the opportunity to reassess the Kevin situation.
    Having reined in my lust, it dawned
on me that Kevin’s looks were not only hot, but puzzling. The photo of Brad Sanders
they’d run on TV showed a pale, fleshy-necked guy wearing a rumpled dress shirt
with a button-down collar. He sported a shopping mall haircut, a geek goatee,
and funky wire-rimmed glasses. The photo was a portrait shot, so it didn’t show
his wristwatch or his physique, but judging from what I couldsee I
imagined a black plastic Casio and a belly paunch. Physically and sartorially,
the contrast between Kevin and Brad was day and night.
    I offered the couple a seat on the
sofa in the front office while I stayed in back to pour the coffee and prepare
the fitting room for Lisa Marie’s try-on session. I sniffed the cream,
determined it free of deadly pathogens, and placed the carton on the tray along
with three brimming Hilo Hattie mugs. I slipped through the bead curtain
beaming like Martha Stewart presenting a flaming dessert, but neither of them
looked up. While we cranked up our caffeine quotient, we made idle chatter
about the ongoing crummy weather. No one mentioned the search for Brad.
    There was a lull in the
conversation and Lisa Marie turned to me. “Are there any castles on Maui?”
    “Castles?”
    “Yeah, you know. Fairytale castles,
with turnips and molts.”
    “Turrets and moats?”
    “Yeah. And a drawstring bridge and
all that.”
    “A drawbridge?”
    “Yeah. Why do you keep repeating
everything? Just answer me. Is there a castle over here or not?”
    “Not that I know of. Why do you
ask?”
    “Well, I was looking through my
celebrity wedding scrapbook and my very, very, very favorite wedding was
Tom and Katie’s. You know, at night, in that castle in Italy? Little Suri was
so adorable as flower girl.”
    “Ah, yes. That wedding was pretty
spectacular. But Bill Gates chose Hawaii. In the daytime, by the ocean—just
like yours is going to be.”
    “Who’s Bill Gates?” said Lisa
Marie.
    “Actually,” Kevin chimed in,
“Gates’ wedding was on the island of Lana’i, not Maui. And it was on a golf
course overlooking the ocean, not on the beach.”
    Score one for Mr. GQ.
    “You’re right. It was on Lana’i at
Manele Bay. But in any case, it wasn’t in a castle.” I turned to Lisa Marie.
“Bill Gates is the richest man in America.”
    “He’s rich because he’s an astute
businessman and a software genius,” Kevin said in a voice that let me know he
felt I’d slighted Gates by merely focusing on his wealth.  
    “Brad’s a software genius.
Everybody says so.” Lisa Marie said this in a voice so small I thought it might
have come from inside my own head.
    A few moments of tight silence
followed.
    “And I’m going to be a software
genius’ wife!” she said, perking up as if she’d been hit with a defibrillator.
“Okay. Enough of this sitting around, I want to see some wedding dresses.”
    As I led them back into the fitting
room, Kevin’s eyes flicked across the four gowns I’d displayed for Lisa Marie’s
inspection. He frowned as he turned over the first price tag.
    “Five thousand bucks? You must