Free Choreographed Crime (Miss Demeanor 3) by Jackie Marilla

Chapter One

    Maile Kuhiwinui tilted her head back as she watched the construction workers hoist the Miss Demeanor Private Detective Agency sign into place. A few of the business owners from Pioneer Square gathered around and clapped as soon as the workmen secured the sign. They shook hands with the women and welcomed them to the business community. June from the art studio next door passed a tray of champagne to Maile and her new partners—River, Shay, and Cassie.
    The bubbles from the champagne tickled her nose. She’d rather have a beer—a microbrew from Hawai’i would be nice right about now, but Maile knew better than to drink beer during work hours. It was just her nerves. She loved Seattle and her new partners, but after five months it still didn’t feel like home.
    River pointed to the entrance door. “Shall we?”
    “If we’re going to be ready for our grand opening tomorrow, we better get started.” Shay rubbed her palms together.
    Cassie looped her arm through Shay’s and followed River into their ground level office space.
    Maile froze. This was what she’d yearned for, wasn’t it? A chance to be her own boss and investigate cases rather than staying in what seemed like a dead end job on the police force in Hilo, Hawai’i.
    She’d been so excited to vacation in Seattle five months ago with the three women she’d originally met in a chat room called Lady Cops. It was River’s idea to start the agency, and with help from River’s Uncle Mike they were able to scrape together the funds.
    Now, it seemed like a rash decision. She missed her ‘ohana , especially her Auntie Lei, surfing at Honoli’i, and good Hawaiian food. At thirty-three, she sure as hell didn’t want to admit to her new friends that she felt homesick. She shook her head and rolled her shoulders.
    River poked her head out the door. “Are you coming?”
    “Yeah. Just admiring our sign.”

    Three weeks later, Maile arrived at the office just in time for the Monday morning meeting. She still didn’t understand how her partners left the apartment building in Capitol Hill after she did and arrived ahead of her. Her hands still felt clammy from clutching the wheel. Merging onto the interstate in the tangle of traffic made her heart race. The Big Island had no interstates, so she had zero experience driving on them.
    She pulled up a chair in the conference room and reached for a croissant.
    Cory, the administrative assistant, scampered into the room with a cardboard tray of five Starbucks Venti size coffee cups. Maile loved the cappuccinos, but she wanted more for breakfast than a fancy piece of bread and a cup of coffee. She craved the flavors of kalua pork loco moco with its white rice topped with salty shredded pork and a fried egg smothered in brown gravy. Just the thought of one made her mouth water. She’d tried several of the so-called Hawaiian restaurants, but no one made kalua pork loco like Hilo’s Café 100.
    Cassie nudged her. “Are you awake?”
    “Yeah. Sorry.”
    Cory set up her iPad and Maile’s stomach clenched. By now she knew the routine—everyone took turns and talked about their cases and asked for assistance when needed. She might as well just stuff her mouth full of pastry. She didn’t have anything to share again this week.
    River said she made progress on her case and would be out of the office all day for the next two days to follow up on her interviews. Shay said she’d also made progress on her case. Cassie said since her case was the newest one, she didn’t have much to report yet.
    As they discussed the three cases, Maile slunk lower into her chair. The longer they talked, the more Maile squirmed. She wondered if she’d ever get her first case as a private investigator. So far, she’d only done research on where to find Hawaiian food.
    Her partners all took their cups of coffee and headed out the door. Maile looked at Cory. “I guess it’s just you and me again.”
    Cory flipped her blue hair