Synopsis |
Reviews |
Excerpt
Forget the grass skirts. Some of the Island's top hula dancers are pushing up daisies.
Everyone at Em Johnson’s famous North Shore Kauai hang-out, The Tiki Goddess Bar, knows that the bar’s irrepressible Hula Maidens take their hula dancing seriously. So when famed hula instructors from a rival dance troop start dropping like over-ripe passion fruit, Em and the Hula Maidens go undercover at the Kukui Nut Festival Hula Competition to uncover the killer. Em is once again up to her okole in danger and mystery, not to mention the seductive challenge of working with hunky detective Roland Sharpe, who moonlights as one of the island’s sexiest fire dancers.
The hula is lively, the luau is smoking, the mai tais are delicious, and a killer is looking to get away with murder in paradise.
Praise for Book One of The Tiki Goddess Mysteries
JILL MARIE LANDIS has written over twenty-five novels, which have earned awards and slots on such national bestseller lists as the USA TODAY Top 50 and the New York Times Best Sellers Plus. She is a seven-time finalist for Romance Writers of America's RITA Award in both Single Title and Contemporary Romance as well as a Golden Heart and RITA Award winner. She's written historical and contemporary romance as well as inspirational historical romance, and she is now penning The Tiki Goddess Mystery Series, which began with MAI TAI ONE ON.
"Fun, charming and full of atmosphere, Mai Tai One On is a delightful beginning to what promises to be a terrific mystery series." -- Susan Mallery, New York Times Bestselling Author
"Fans of Stephanie Plum will enjoy this series, a colorful, entertaining, light and playful read!" -- Allie Bates, NovelSpot
1
Wardrobe Malfunction
"Thanks
to you and your nipple, Lillian, we’ll never dance in this town again.”
Mournful
silence filled the Tiki Goddess Bar on the North Shore of Kauai as Kiki Godwin
pinned Lillian Smith with a cold, hard stare.
As
the self-appointed leader of the aging troop of dancers known as the Hula
Maidens, Kiki had gathered the women for an emergency meeting after their
recent disastrous appearance at the Happy Days Long Term Care Center.
A
recent transplant from Iowa, rhythmically challenged Lillian squirmed on the
sticky seat of the red vinyl banquette. She had the sense not to argue, but when
a telltale tear slipped from behind her black rimmed, rhinestone encrusted
glasses Kiki went in for the kill.
"I’m
afraid you have single handedly ruined us, Lillian.” Kiki shook her head and
let go a long suffering sigh. "There’s nothing else I can say.”
Lil
let out a wail and leapt to her feet. Her hot pink rubber flip flops slapped an
even tattoo against the floor as she ran out of the bar and onto the front
lanai. Unfortunately, her sobs were still audible.
Kiki
kept the troupe of not-so-talented over-the-hill dancers on a tight rein. They
danced for free, but it was still hard for them to get gigs. Audiences expected
lovely young Polynesian dancers, not a bunch of wrinkled old haoles with
underarm bat wings.
If
Lillian’s shocking wardrobe malfunction truly had ruined their already
questionable reputation, they would no doubt be confined to dancing solely at
the Tiki Goddess Bar. No more appearances at pancake breakfasts, shave ice
wagon blessings or the Annual Hanalei Valley Slug Festival. No more invitations
to dance at the occasional private party.
The
four other Maidens attending the emergency meeting watched Lillian’s hasty
departure in subdued silence. The bar didn’t officially open until eleven, so
no one outside the group of dancers was there to witness Lillian’s shame except
Sophie Chin, the twenty-two-year-old bartender.
In
the mid-morning light, the place looked as tired as an old drunk after a night
of heavy binging. The painted plywood floor was scuffed down to bare wood. Foam
padding oozed from the stained upholstered seats of chairs that once graced a
nearby hotel banquet room. Small round cocktail tables were unevenly spaced
along a narrow vinyl banquette beneath the open windows.
Before
the lunch crowd rolled in, Sophie filled the ice bin beneath the bar and then
stocked fruit juices for the tropical concoctions the place was famous for. The
minute Lillian started bawling Sophie dried her hands and tossed down the dish
towel.
"A
little harsh, don’tcha think, Kiki?” She called across the bar.
Kiki
considered Sophie for a moment. Younger by forty years, the girl still had
enough gumption to stand up to her. The kid was nice enough, but she had no
class. Her jet black hair was short, spiked, and sported neon green tips, but
she changed the color on a whim. A row of silver rings pierced her right brow,
and if that wasn’t bad enough, a fairly new and colorful tattoo of an Asian
mermaid was entwined around Sophie’s left wrist and forearm.
Not
to her taste, but Kiki still couldn’t help but be a little jealous. Sophie was
everything Kiki wasn’t anymore: young, healthy, and one heck of a hula dancer.
Born and raised on Oahu, Sophie could claim a stew pot of mixed heritage. She
was what the natives called "local.” All Kiki could claim was that she was a haole,but her heart was Hawaiian.
"You
think that was harsh?” Kiki tried to subdue the girl with a look. It didn’t
work.
"The
poor woman is in tears,” Sophie pointed out.
"That
poor woman is always in tears. I told Lillian how to tie her pareauso that it wouldn’t slip off. Halfway through our tribute to Elvis medley at
the old folks’ home, I looked over, and there she was with her right nipple
sticking out. The left was close to peeping out too. If I hadn’t danced over
and blocked her from view she wouldn’t have noticed until her pareau had
rolled down to her ankles.”
"Kiki?
Oh, Kiki?” Suzi Matamoto, short, Japanese American and an aggressive realtor,
waved her hand.
Kiki
took her time, slowly cocked her left brow and tried to stare Suzi down.
"Whatnow?”
Suzi
cleared her throat. "I’ve always thought we’re kind of old to be wearing
sarongs anyway.”
Kiki
took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She started to count to ten but
only made it to five.
"Actually,
Suzi, I’ve always thought you were a little old to wear your hair down
past your hips. I’m the costume designer,” she reminded them all. "If I
say pareau then that’s what we wear. If I say paper bags, we wear paper
bags. Got it? And stop using the word sarong. It’s pah-ray-oo.”
By
now they should have it in their hard little heads; she was in charge of
costuming. Kiki stared down each of the women gathered around the rickety
cocktail tables and caught the dangerous glimmer of insurrection in their eyes.
"That
may be.” More headstrong than the others, Suzi went on undeterred. "Lillian
doesn’t have anything to hold her par-eh-ooo up with.”
"Nochi chis.” Flora Carillo shook her head and sighed. The hefty Hawaiian
who owned the local trinket shop in the Hanalei Village was seated at the far
end of the banquette. "She get nut’ting up top.”
Another
pitiful wail floated in from the lanai.
"Next
time I’m in town I’ll buy her some double sided tape out of the treasury,” Kiki
said.
Before
the agenda got away from her, Kiki turned to Little Estelle Huntington. The
ninety-two-year-old was perched on her electric Gad-About scooter gumming the
celery stick garnish from her cocktail. Though she didn’t dance anymore, Little
Estelle never missed a chance to accompany her daughter, Big Estelle, to all
Hula Maiden meetings and performances.
"Little
Estelle, go out and tell Lillian to cut the waterworks get back in here,” Kiki
said. "The sound of sniveling floating on the trade winds is driving me crazy.”
Little
Estelle polished off the dregs of a Shark’s Tooth Frenzy, the closest thing to
a Bloody Mary on the four page Goddess drink menu, then revved the battery
powered engine and did a one-eighty on the scooter. She used the empty tables
as a slalom course, weaving her way out to the lanai.
Kiki
noticed Sophie was no longer lining up hurricane glasses but headed around the
open end of the bar. Kiki liked Sophie as well as she liked anyone and was
usually careful not to piss her off—especially since Sophie had voluntarily
coached the Maidens through a particularly complicated new hula for the Annual
Hanalei Slug Festival.
Truth
be told, they could use Sophie as a full time choreographer, but they were all
too stubborn and outspoken. They never had any luck keeping hula teachers
longer than a month. Kiki knew it was best to stay on Sophie’s good side and
ask for help only when it was vital.
Legend
had it Sophie had once danced at the Merrie Monarch Festival, the Olympics of
hula held on the Big Island of Hawaii every spring. Even so, Kiki didn’t
appreciate the young woman running interference for the other Maidens. She’d
hate for there to be rebellion in the ranks, but she doubted the others could
get it together enough for them to put Sophie in charge.
As
if anyone else would ever even attempt to corral such a mixed bag of nuts.
Sophie
handed Suzi a Goddess coaster for her mimosa then picked up Flora’s empty rocks
glass. Kiki was almost convinced the kid was going to stay out of it until
Sophie paused, fingered the front of her neon spiked hair and planted a hand on
her hip.
"Kiki,
I don’t think you need to worry about Lil’s accidental striptease at Happy
Days. The doctors and nurses are used to exposed body parts. Besides, it’s not
as if the patients are going to remember anyway.”
Suzi
looked up from texting long enough to clarify. "They call them guests, not
patients.”
"Guests?”
Big Estelle looked at Suzi. "Why? Because they at their last big luau?”
"Lined
up for that all-expense paid vacation to heaven,” Flora added.
"Guests,”
Suzi said, "as in hotel guests. Or residents.”
"Hotel?
You can check in, but you can’t check out,” Kiki mumbled.
"Unless
you’re my mother,” Big Estelle sighed. Little Estelle had managed to escape the
California retirement home her son left her in, charged a ticket to Kauai and
moved in with her seventy-two-year-old daughter. Big Estelle’s handicap
modified van was scooter accessible. She wasn’t allowed to drive off without
her mother and the Gad-About locked and loaded.
Sophie
might be right, but Kiki still wasn’t convinced they wouldn’t all be ostracized
for indecent exposure. Showing some chi chis in public was one thing,
but not when the chi chis in question were over sixty years old.
"We
can’t afford any more gossip,” she said.
"Too
late for that,” Suzi mumbled.
Just
then, Trish Oakely came strolling in with her camera slung over one shoulder
and a backpack full of photography equipment dangling off the other. As the
official photographer for the Tiki Goddess luau and catered events, Trish was
an unofficial Maiden. Work demanded she miss too many practices for Kiki to
allow her name on the active roster anymore.
Kiki
greeted Trish with the price of being tardy—a cool nod. The others greeted her
with alohas and exchanged air kisses and hugs all down the line. Big Estelle
slid over to make room for Trish on the banquette.
"You’ll
never guess what I just heard.” Trish slipped her camera strap over her head and
carefully set the Nikon on the seat beside her. "Mitchell Chambers died last
night.”
Kiki
had opened her mouth to take up where she left off before Trish’s big news
broadcast. When the announcement registered, Kiki snapped her mouth shut and
choked down a sob that bubbled up from deep inside. The wave of emotion
surprised her as much as Trish’s shocking news.
Hula
was the only thing that ever moved Kiki to tears. Hula was life. She wasn’t
afraid to die, but the thought of never dancing hula again was the most
terrifying thing she could imagine. Pulling herself together, Kiki grabbed her
clip board and pen.
"When’s
the funeral?”
"I’m
not sure. Mitchell just died last night. They found him dead in the taro patch
behind that new Thai restaurant in Hanalei.”
"Yeah,
I hear the food’s terrible.” Flora was digging around in a huge lauhala straw bag. She pulled out a
Gatorade bottle and took a swig and then drew out a ball of yarn. She was
constantly knitting toilet paper covers to sell at island craft fairs, or "crap
fairs” as far as Kiki was concerned.
Flora
was also famous for refilling her plastic Gatorade bottles with emergency
alcohol so she didn’t have to pay for extra drinks at the bar.
"What
happened?” Kiki asked.
"You
know his heart was really bad. Mitchell wasn’t ever in the greatest shape.
Probably a heart attack.” Trish shook her head.
"That’s
an understatement,” Suzi said. "Probably a heart explosion. He must’ve weighed
four hundred pounds.”
Flora’s
knitting needles stilled. "Mitchell was my cousin’s sister’s uncle’s nephew.”
"Great!”
Kiki shot a fist into the air and then scribbled a note on her clipboard. "Call
and tell them we’ll be more than happy to dance at the funeral.”
Lillian
was trying to sidle back into her place without attracting attention. As Little
Estelle rolled in from the lanai, her scooter careened off of one of the carved
tiki barstools.
Little
Estelle squinted at the carved face on the stool.
"Excuse
me, buddy,” she said before she parked next to her daughter’s table. She
signaled Sophie to bring her another Shark’s Tooth Frenzy.
"You
really should slow down, Mother,” Big Estelle warned.
"I
was only in first gear.”
Big
Estelle sighed.
Lillian
was delightfully cowed, but her eyes were red and puffy. She wore a perplexed
look behind her bejeweled glasses as she patted her cotton candy hairdo into
place and then raised her hand.
"What
Lillian?” Kiki figured it was best to let her have her say so that they could
move on. "What’s the matter now?”
Lillian
whispered, "I was just wondering... do people actually dance
hula at funerals?”
Kiki
could almost forgive her. The woman still had Iowa corn silk between her teeth,
which also accounted for the pink tint of her hair.
"Yes,Lillian. People dance at funerals. Do you think I would
have volunteered us if it wasn’t done?”
"Oh.
Sorry.”
"Right.Sorry. Now Flora, will you please call the family and tell them we’ll be
there?”
"Mitchell
was a kumu. He had his own halau...”
"I
know he had his own hula students. I also realize he wasn’t just any kumu,
he was renowned. One of the best teachers in Hawaii. But that doesn’t mean we
can’t dance at the memorial as a sign of respect. Time is of the essence,
though. I want us on that program before it fills up. Plenty of hula halauwill come from all over the islands and probably even the mainland to pay
tribute.”
"Do
you really think they’ll want us?” Suzi asked.
Kiki
thought about it for a moment.
"Flora,
tell them Kimo will donate three trays of his famous miso mahi mahi for
the memorial luau.” Kiki wasn’t above bribes. Her husband Kimo wasn’t only head
chef of the Tiki Goddess, but half Hawaiian, or hapa haole, depending on
who you were talking to. He was as well known for his spectacular pupu
platters, entrees, and island style cuisine as Louie Marshall, owner of the
Tiki Goddess, was for his legendary cocktails.
"Why wouldn’t they want you all to dance?” Little Estelle piped up from the
Gad-About. "Once word gets out that Lillian was flashing her boobs at the Happy
Days Care Center, they’ll all be lining up for the show.”
