“It’s a business trip. Business is business is business. Deals, deals, deals. That’s why I have my house in Hawaii, so I can get away from it all and design my Hawaiian clothing.”

“I know, Claude, I know.”

“You know, I know, we know. As we speak it becomes apparent to me that you have not yet read this morning’s papers.”

“What do you mean?”

“I spoke to Aaron. He’s at the house. He told me that there’s an article today about the dead woman that focuses on the royal shell lei around her neck. I hope this doesn’t mean that people will get disturbed and not want to wear my clothes with the same beautiful shell lei design.”

“That won’t happen, Claude,” Jazzy assured him. “The chairman of the ‘Be a Princess’ Ball committee called me last night to report that all this attention has helped ticket sales.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“What else are you putting in the gift bags?” he asked in a grumpy tone.

“A bunch of junk so that your items will be the big treat.”

“What kind of junk?”

“A key ring with a miniature plastic palm tree, pineapple soap that smells like ammonia, and a small bag of macadamia nuts that will have people running to the dentist. Believe me, your Hawaiian shirts and muumuus will stand out.”

“Good. That’s good. Because you know, Jazzy, I think that’s where my true genius lies.”

“I agree, Claude. I am doing my best to make sure everyone in Hawaii takes notice of Claude’s Clothes. The shell lei you drew for the fabric is so beautiful, so intricate.”

“Well, how many days did I go to that Seashell Museum to study the royal lei they’re auctioning off? How many? You think that idiot Jimmy would have trusted me with the lei. I could have taken it home and done an even better replication. But no.”

“After the robbery all those years ago, I guess he was afraid to let it go.”

“He’s not a good businessman.”

“I don’t think many people would accuse him of that.”

“I should say not. If I showed up at a meeting with bare feet, I don’t think people would want to do business with me.”

“Claude,” Jazzy began in her most comforting tone, “the ‘Be a Princess’ Ball will be a huge success for us. You will get the attention you deserve.”

“I hope so. I’m flying in tonight. Will you be there to pick me up at the airport?”

“Of course.”

“Did you get me a room at the Waikiki Waters for the weekend? I want to be there and make sure my clothes are in those bags.”

“I booked you a suite.”

“What would I do without you?” Claude wondered aloud.

“I don’t know,” Jazzy answered.

After she hung up the phone, Jazzy went upstairs where Steve was reading the sports section of the paper and sipping coffee.

“Where are the guys?” she asked as she helped herself to a cup of delicious Kona coffee.

“They went out to the beach.”

“You didn’t go?”

“No. I’m going to spend the day with Kit at the hotel.”

“That’s where I’m heading. Can I grab a ride with you?”

“Sure. I have to be there at lunchtime.”

“Perfect. We can all have lunch together,” Jazzy said breezily.

Steve looked up from the paper. “That should work.” At least I hope it will, he thought. He liked Kit and was hoping that they could spend some time alone today. Her friend Regan was around but didn’t seem like the type to get in the way. Not like Jazzy.

“So,” Jazzy cooed as she took her first sip of coffee. “You seem to like this Kit. Maybe you should bid for the princess lei for her.”

“I don’t know.” Steve handed her the paper with the article about Dorinda Dawes. “These leis must have a curse on them. What is it they say about lava from the Big Island? If you take a piece of it home with you, you’re in for trouble. Something tells me it’s the same story with the two royal leis. They originally belonged to a queen who was forced to abdicate her throne and a princess who died young. Who would want them?”

“Well, don’t spread that word around,” Jazzy replied a little testily. “Claude will have a fit. He wants everyone to love those leis. It’s the signature of his fabric.”

“And we don’t want to upset Claude,” Steve muttered with a tinge of sarcasm.

“No.” Jazzy laughed. “We certainly don’t.”

R egan and Kit hoisted themselves onto two of the stools at the hotel’s outdoor bar and ordered lemonade. Fliers for the hotel’s hula classes were piled on the bar. Kit had her wet hair pulled back and smelled of suntan lotion.

“It was fun out there, Regan. I wish you had been with me.”

“It sounds like fun. I’ll go for a swim later in the afternoon. Who were you with?”

“I went for a walk on the beach and ended up talking to some people who were going out for a quick sail on the hotel catamaran. They invited me, and I thought why not? Everyone is so friendly around here.”

“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to talk to strangers?” Regan said with a laugh.

“If I didn’t talk to strangers, my social life would be the pits.” Kit looked around, then lowered her voice. “But there are two strangers over there whom I’d be wary of talking to. That couple is staring at us.”

Regan glanced over at the middle-aged man and woman a few seats down from them. He was graying and thin. She was, too. In an odd way they looked alike-like couples who had been together for years. It also helped that they both had on black oversized sunglasses and matching hats in a jungle camouflage print. Where in the world did they get those? Regan wondered. The woman caught Regan’s eye and raised her glass.

“Cheers,” she toasted.

“Cheers,” Regan responded in kind.

“Where are you gals from?” the man asked.

“Los Angeles and Connecticut,” Regan answered. “And you?”

“A place where it rains a lot.” The man laughed.

That might explain the hats, Regan mused.

“Are you gals having fun?” the man continued.

I hate being called a “gal,” Regan thought. But she smiled gamely and said, “How can you not have a good time here? What’s not to like?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “We’re with a tour group. Sometimes the others get on my nerves. We’re spending a lot of time alone.” She took a gulp from the martini glass in front of her.

That’s strong stuff for this time of day, Regan thought. And under this hot sun.

The woman put down her martini glass. “I’m Betsy, and this is my husband, Bob.”

Regan noticed that ever so briefly Bob looked at Betsy with an annoyed expression. What’s that about? she wondered. “I’m Regan, and this is my friend Kit.”

Regan could tell that Kit had no interest in talking to these people. Her mind was on Steve. She couldn’t blame her. And these two looked as if they wanted to chat.

“What do you do for a living?” Bob asked Regan.

Here we go, Regan thought. The question she didn’t always feel comfortable answering. And now that she was on the job, she definitely didn’t want to tell the truth. “Consulting,” she answered. It sounded vague, and people usually didn’t pry. It was often a term used by someone who was out of a job. “And you?”

“We’re writing about how to keep the excitement in your relationship,” Bob boasted.

I guess it’s by wearing matching hats, Regan decided. “Oh,” she answered. “How interesting.”

“You must be in a relationship,” Betsy said. “I can see you’re wearing a beautiful engagement ring. Where is your fiancé?”

They’re jewel thieves, Regan thought wryly. She knew the game plan of couples who cozy up to people at bars, ply them with liquor, and then rip them off. “My fiancé is in New York,” Regan answered then changed the subject: “Are you going to the Princess Ball?”

“Those tickets are expensive,” Bob noted. “I kind of doubt it. The leaders of our tour group are cheapskates. We’re on an all-expenses-paid vacation, and the ball isn’t part of the package.”