Read Online Choreographed Crime (Miss Demeanor 3) by Jackie Marilla - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jackie Marilla
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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.
Chapter Two
Maile returned to the office and bragged to Cory about the fabulous food truck she’d discovered. “Made my day. Maybe my week.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so into food.” Cory fiddled with her hoop earrings.
“What can I say? I love good local Hawaiian grub. You can’t imagine how delicious it was.”
“Are we still talking about food?”
Maile raised her eyebrows. “We were, but now that you mention it, it wouldn’t bother me to get to know Lama better.”
“First name basis already?”
“You bet.”
Maile walked back to her desk and started to research driving routes from the food truck to her apartment and where to locate microbrews from Hawai’i. She’d need beer with her poke .
Ten minutes before closing time, Maile heard someone in the reception area. She saw a stout woman with light brown skin and dark circles under her eyes in front of Cory’s desk, a newspaper clutched to her chest.
“Please. I need to speak with an investigator.”
Cory asked the woman for her name.
“Mrs. Fernandez-Garcia. My son was murdered.”
Maile walked to the woman. “I’m Maile Kuhiwinui, private investigator. Shall we go to the conference room and talk?”
Maile led the woman to the conference room and placed a bottle of water in front of her before she sat down with her iPad.
The woman pushed the newspaper in front of Maile. “The police say he committed suicide.” She shook her head back and forth. “He would never do that. It’s a sin.”
“Let’s start at the beginning, Mrs. Fernandez-Garcia.”
The woman started to wring her hands and suck in her lips. Finally, she spoke, “My son danced with the Seattle Ballet and someone… someone…”
Maile handed her a box of tissues. “Take your time.”
“Someone murdered him.”
“Why do you suspect murder?”
“He would never take his own life. We are
“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.
Chapter Two
Maile returned to the office and bragged to Cory about the fabulous food truck she’d discovered. “Made my day. Maybe my week.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so into food.” Cory fiddled with her hoop earrings.
“What can I say? I love good local Hawaiian grub. You can’t imagine how delicious it was.”
“Are we still talking about food?”
Maile raised her eyebrows. “We were, but now that you mention it, it wouldn’t bother me to get to know Lama better.”
“First name basis already?”
“You bet.”
Maile walked back to her desk and started to research driving routes from the food truck to her apartment and where to locate microbrews from Hawai’i. She’d need beer with her poke .
Ten minutes before closing time, Maile heard someone in the reception area. She saw a stout woman with light brown skin and dark circles under her eyes in front of Cory’s desk, a newspaper clutched to her chest.
“Please. I need to speak with an investigator.”
Cory asked the woman for her name.
“Mrs. Fernandez-Garcia. My son was murdered.”
Maile walked to the woman. “I’m Maile Kuhiwinui, private investigator. Shall we go to the conference room and talk?”
Maile led the woman to the conference room and placed a bottle of water in front of her before she sat down with her iPad.
The woman pushed the newspaper in front of Maile. “The police say he committed suicide.” She shook her head back and forth. “He would never do that. It’s a sin.”
“Let’s start at the beginning, Mrs. Fernandez-Garcia.”
The woman started to wring her hands and suck in her lips. Finally, she spoke, “My son danced with the Seattle Ballet and someone… someone…”
Maile handed her a box of tissues. “Take your time.”
“Someone murdered him.”
“Why do you suspect murder?”
“He would never take his own life. We are
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