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Apparently, Ransom has a helicopter in mind.
The next thing I know, we’ve whisked away from the island, and just as we rise into the sky, a smaller island comes into view—and within moments we’ve landed at another airport.
“Welcome to Molokai,” Ransom says over the beating of the blades as he shuttles us off into yet another waiting rental car.
Molokai is one of the two smaller islands just west of Maui. All I know about them is that Molokai is the more populated of the two, and far less touristy than Maui. I hear the residents would like to keep it that way as well, can’t say I blame them. And rumor has it, Lanai, the smaller of the two, offers breathtaking snorkeling.
“Going on a date with you is a lot like dating James Bond,” I tell him as we hit the highway.
Ransom chuckles. “I can promise you, there won’t be any bad guys after us while we’re here. You’re safe with me.”
“I always feel safe with you,” I say, and I mean every word.
Ransom drives us to what looks like a forest that offers peekaboo views of the vast Pacific.
“Last stop, Papohaku Beach. Three miles of sandy shoreline with distant views of Diamond Head.”
“You’re kidding,” I say. “As in Diamond Head Crater on Oahu?”
“That’s the one.”
“This I’ve got to see.”
Ransom leads us down a sandy trail that cuts through the sweeping canopy of trees, and sure enough, miles of shoreline stretch in either direction. Out on the horizon, I see the cutout of a landscape that leaps into the air and flattens out and I gasp at the sight. Views of Diamond Head Crater, indeed.
I shake my head in disbelief as I take in this vast stretch of land—vacant land as it were.
“Ransom, there’s nobody here,” I marvel. “We have this entire place to ourselves.”
“That’s why it’s one of my favorite beaches,” he says, wrapping an arm around me as we walk along the warm sand until we land our beach blanket down and indulge in the culinary fare we picked up in Maui.
We indulge in burgers and sushi rolls alike, sipping on the ice-cold drinks we picked up before we left.
“This is the good life,” I say, falling onto my stomach next to him as we watch the waves roll in.
“This is, indeed. How do you like life on the ship?”
“Are you kidding? Room service twice a day, not to mention having my towels morph into everything from elephants to swans? Sweeping views of the South Pacific anytime I want, and don’t get me started on the food. I more than approve. Did you know I had a hankering for something to eat last night just north of midnight and I had room service bring me a snack?”
He arches a brow. There’s a smile twitching on his lips, but he’s too stubborn to give it. “And what was the snack?”
“That snack was a grilled quesadilla filled with melted Monterey jack cheese and a side of fresh guacamole to go along with it. And don’t think I didn’t satisfy my sweet tooth. I couldn’t help it. The siren song of that New York cheesecake was too difficult to ignore. Plus, they had fresh blueberries, and nothing reminds me of Maine like fresh blueberries.”
“I can’t fault you for it. Every now and again, I get a hankering for home myself.”
“Isn’t that something that we’re both from Maine? The captain, too.”
“It is something.” He frowns at the mention of Wes. “I had room service last night as well,” he confesses. “A couple of Wagyu burgers and a side of chocolate cake with caramel sauce. We have more in common with every passing day.” He needles me with those daring blue eyes. “Do you have something you’d like to confess to me, Detective Troublefield?”
Now it’s me making a face. “All right, so I spoke with Nadine Dixon yesterday. She said that Travis Weatherly and Julia were dating. He cheated on her, and well, to exact revenge, she outed the affair he had with a staffer—the very reason he lost his job.”
“And revenge could have very well been his motive,” he admits. “But I implore you to leave that to me to tease out.”
“Duly noted, Detective,” I say. “A little birdie told me that the coroner found cobra venom in Julia’s system.”
His chest expands as he looks my way. “Why do I get the feeling that bird brain’s name is Cockburn?”
I wince because a part of me really didn’t want to rat out Wes.
