Free Ms America and the Offing on Oahu (Beauty Queen Mysteries No. 1) by Diana Dempsey

don’t really need a box, either. “Naturally I’d be happy to pay for it.”
    “Well …” She eyes me. “You’re the one who won the pageant, right? I saw your picture in the paper this morning.”
    “Really?” I’m liking this winning thing. “I’ll have to look for a copy.”
    “Tell me your room number and I’ll get you a few copies.” She smiles at me. “And while we usually send people to the mailboxes place around the corner, I’ll give the mail room a call for you.”
    “Thank you so much.” I feel kind of guilty as she picks up the phone. She wouldn’t provide this perk if she knew what I intend to do with it.
    I glance around. This would not be a good time for Detective Jenkins to put in a return appearance. But there’s no sign of her. Only the usual assortment of happy-looking travelers, pasty ones fresh from the airport with welcome leis around their necks, and sunburned ones without.
    A bit later the concierge hangs up. She smiles at me again. “Someone from the mail room is on his way up with a box and some tape for you.”
    “Terrific. Thank you again.” Darn. I wait, my mind working. Then a middle-aged Hawaiian man shows up carrying what I claim I need. I take it and engage him in conversation as I lead him back the way he came. “When I’m done packaging everything, why don’t I bring it down to the mail room?”
    “Oh, no, leave it with the concierge and I’ll come get it.”
    “No, really, that’s all right.” I lean close and whisper to him. “I don’t want to bother her with this again. They’re always so busy at the concierge desk.”
    “I understand but we don’t like guests going down into that part of the hotel.”
    “The basement?”
    He laughs. “It’s not our best feature.”
    “I don’t mind.” We’re at the staff elevator now. In fact, it’s just arriving. I step inside. I see I’ve sort of boxed him in—ha ha. He looks a bit reluctant but gets in, too. “This isn’t so bad,” I say as the doors open onto the basement floor. It’s what you’d expect, with beige walls, fluorescent lights, linoleum floors, and mysterious pipes suspended from the ceiling. Down here the air conditioning can’t quite combat the warmth and humidity. I hear the hum of mysterious generators, and the rumble of industrial laundry equipment.
    We turn one corner and at the end of the next corridor is the mail room, identified by a sign. The gray metal door is open.
    That makes me happy, and so does the fact that I spy numerous mailing boxes that appear ready to ship. My guide turns to me. “I guess it’d be okay if you brought your box back down here when it’s ready to go. If nobody’s here when you come back, just leave it in the hallway. I’m never gone long. ‘Course you can always leave it with the concierge, too, and she’ll call me to come get it.”
    I nod. It occurs to me that I really should ship something home so all this doesn’t seem suspicious. “Your shift must start pretty early in the morning.”
    “Six to three,” he says cheerfully.
    “That’s early. Well, thank you. I’ll be back.”
    “Aloha,” he calls as I retrace my steps.
    I feel bad again. I hope this nice man doesn’t get into trouble from what I’m about to do. I hope I don’t, either.
    I flip-flop my way back to the elevator, where I press the UP button. I then remove my flip flops, whose slapping sound is pretty loud, and dart around the next corner. The elevator comes and goes with me still on the basement level plastered against a wall.
    I’m barely breathing. How am I going to explain this if somebody sees me? The elevator’s right around the corner but somehow I couldn’t find it? Sadly, many people would believe that of a beauty queen.
    I put my new shipping tape in my beach bag along with my flip flops, and set it on the floor next to the collapsed shipping box. I’ll need my hands free.
    It seems to take forever but eventually I hear footsteps coming from the