Tag: Beaches

The Black Thumb

When a violent death disrupts the monthly meeting of the Pua Kala Garden society, Professor Molly Barda has no intention of playing amateur detective. But Molly’s not just a witness–the victim is Molly’s house guest and grad-school frenemy. And Molly quickly finds to her dismay that her interest in the murder of the stylish and self-centered Melanie Polewski is more than just…academic.

Excerpt

At first, I had been glad to hear from Melanie Polewski. I hadn’t seen her since we had both graduated with our doctorates from one of the top ten literature and creative writing programs in the country. I don’t mean to brag. I’m putting it here as a warning to anyone thinking about getting a degree in literature and creative writing. My dissertation advisor had been devastated when I told him I had accepted a position in the Mahina State College of Commerce. I had pointed out the last full-time English department job I’d applied for had over a thousand applicants, and after a year of fruitless job-hunting, I needed to start earning a living wage. I was lucky to get this job, even if it was just “teaching a room full of slack-jawed baseball caps how to pad their resumes,” as my advisor put it.
Melanie had been less fortunate than I. She had floated around after graduation doing freelance editing and, rumor had it, working for one of those villainous websites with a name like wedoyourhomework-dot-com. Using me as a reference, Melanie had managed to land a one-year visiting professorship in the Mahina State English department, and was staying with me until she could find a place of her own.
“You were right,” she whispered. “This is a nice house. Hey, I could buy it, and rent it to you. And then I could stay over whenever.”
She nudged me as she stood up. “Maybe I could take care of Donnie when you’re too tired. Oh, come on, I’m just kidding. Now where did you say the bathroom was?”
I watched her stride back to the house on long, tanned legs, her tawny hair shimmering in the hot sun. This was going to be a long year, I thought.
I had little to contribute to the Garden Society’s discussion of rose-arranging, so I sat and listened, enjoying the lovely garden. We were invisible from the main road, tucked away amidst fragrant roses and well-tended palms and ground cover sprouting vivid green patches on the black lava rock.
There was no scream of anguish. The impact of soft flesh landing on the hard lava made no sound, at least nothing loud enough to be heard over the roar of the river below us. It took the assembled members of the Pua Kala Garden Society a few long seconds to register a young woman lying face-down on the lava in front of us. We sat frozen in place, staring at the earthly remains of Melanie Polewski.

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The Cursed Canoe

Professor Molly Barda investigates a mysterious paddling accident, and realizes it isn’t just business majors who cheat to get what they want. Whether it’s moving up in the college rankings, getting a seat in the big canoe race, or just looking out for themselves, some people will do whatever it takes-including murder.

Excerpt

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emma do a double-take at the wine shop.

“Actually,” Emma waved her hand to get my attention, “don’t call back. Let him wait. You don’t want to look too eager. You know he’s there and you have his room number, right? I have a plan.”

“A plan? Why does there have to be a plan? What are you talking about?”

“You don’t want to grow old alone, do you? Here’s what you do. You know what kind of wine Donnie likes?”

“I think so.”

“Go in there and pick something out you know he loves. We’ll get checked in, you go shower and clean up, and bring the bottle of wine to his room. Let nature take its course.”

Emma took my arm and moved me toward the door of the wine shop.

“I don’t know, Emma—”

“It’ll be perfect. It’s exactly like the story of Ruth and Boaz.”

“I don’t think Ruth stopped by Boaz’s hotel room with a bottle of Vino Nobile di Montepulciano.”

“No, but she waited until he was asleep, and climbed under the covers with him.”

“What?” I protested. “No, she didn’t! I mean, not the way you’re making it sound.”

“Oh yes she did, Molly. She let him know she was interested. She didn’t leave any doubt. She got cleaned up, put on some nice perfume, and snuck into where Boaz was sleeping. And her mother in law was the one who put her up to it.”

A woman inside the wine shop stepped out from behind the counter and beckoned us inside. We smiled at her and entered the narrow space. It was stacked floor to ceiling with bottles.

“What do you know about Ruth and Boaz?” I whispered to Emma. “You’re Buddhist!”

I scanned the shelves for something reasonably priced that I could buy for myself. They didn’t offer much in my preferred price range, and certainly nothing that came in a box.

“So?” she whispered back. “Aren’t you the one who said an educated person should know about the world’s different belief systems?”

“When did I say that?”

“At our last General Education Committee meeting.”

“Oh. Maybe you’re right. I guess it sounds like something I might say.”

“You did say it. In fact, Molly, what do you know about Buddhism?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re an educated person. Tell me something you know about Buddhism.”

“Buddhism? Uh, well, there’s Nirvana, and you have a…”

I knew there was some kind of wheel. Wheel of fortune? That couldn’t be right.

“Oh, this is childish, Emma. It’s not a competition. Come on, help me pick out the wine.”