Free Aloha Betrayed by Donald Bain, Jessica Fletcher

half of the older couple from Michigan, Bob and Elaine Lowell, who’d been at my table at the luau. I stood to greet them as they headed toward the catamaran.
    “Hello there,” I said.
    It took a moment before they recognized me.
    “Jessica, right?” Bob said, snapping his fingers. “Now, this is a pleasant surprise, indeed, isn’t it, Elaine?”
    “It’s good seeing you again,” I said. “Are you going out on the sunset cruise?”
    “If we’re not too late,” Elaine replied. “Bob is such a dawdler. Are you on the cruise, too, Jessica?”
    “I’m hoping to be. I just showed up but don’t have a reservation. They’re trying to accommodate me.”
    “Heck, there’s got to be at least one extra space,” Bob said. “Don’t you worry. I’ll make sure that you’re on the cruise. It’d be great to have
two
lovely ladies on my arm.”
    “Oh, Bob!”
    “Please,” I said, “you two get on board and don’t worry about me. I’m sure they’ll take good care of me. Go ahead, now. I’ll catch up with you later.”
    Bitsy had disappeared onto the catamaran. When she returned, she checked in the Lowells and waved for me to join her.
    “The captain said okay,” she announced. “I told him your name and he asked whether you were the famous Jessica Fletcher who writes mystery novels. If you are, he’d like you to be his guest.”
    “That’s very generous of him,” I said, embarrassed. “I do write mysteries, but as for being famous, I don’t know about that . . .”
    A short, wiry man yelled from the deck, “Hey, Bitsy, let’s move it. It’s supposed to be a sunset cruise, not a sunrise trip.”
    “Better get on board,” Bitsy told me, laughing. “Never pays to get the captain mad.”
    I crossed the gangway onto the catamaran and noticed a row of shoes lined up on the deck. One of the young deckhands met me and said, “Rules, ma’am. Shoes and socks off. Safer for you and less wear and tear on the decks.”
    Barefooted, I gingerly made my way along one of the side decks to the front of the vessel, where the other guests had gathered. A young couple took turns photographing each other with a cell phone. Two middle-aged gentlemen leaned on the railing observing activity on other docks that serviced the cove. A couple with a daughter whom I pegged at about twelve years old tried to cajole their child not to pout and to enjoy the evening. The Lowells stood talking to the man who’d called out to Bitsy and whom I assumed was the captain, although he wasn’t dressed like one, no jaunty white hat with a peak or blue blazer with gold bars on the shoulders or sleeves. Instead, he was in the same green and khaki as his crew. He broke away from the Michigan couple and came to me.
    “Mrs. Fletcher?” he said, shaking my hand.
    “Please call me Jessica.”
    “I’m Charlie Reed, owner and captain of the
Maui Ocean Star
. Welcome aboard.”
    “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you so much for agreeing to take me on at the last minute.”
    “You’re very welcome. It’s a pleasure to have you as my guest, Jessica. I read lots of murder mysteries, and yours are some of my favorites. Recognized you right away from your picture on the covers.”
    “I’m flattered,” I said. “This is a magnificent boat, if that’s the proper description.”
    “Thank you. There’s nothing else like it on Maui. I have to admit, it’s my baby. I had a hand in designing every inch and personally sailed her back here to Maui from the California shipyard where she was built.”
    “I’ll look forward to exploring your baby,” I said.
    He laughed. “You do that,” he said pleasantly. “She has quite a lot to show you. I’m honored to have you on board. I’m sure my crew will see to your every need.”
    “Hey, Charlie,” one of the hands called out.
    “Please excuse me now,” he said to me. “We’re about to set sail.”
    Most people moved downstairs to the large covered cabin, in which eight tables were set