Murder at Makapu'u: Surfing Detective Mystery Series

By Chip Hughes

In Murder at Makapu‘u Kai Cooke investigates the fatal sea-cliff plunge of philanthropist Beatrice Ho, whose unattended death looks suspiciously attended. Kai flies to Moloka‘i to check on the alibis of her second husband, the PI’s former client Dr. Gordon Grimes. When those alibis raise questions Grimes’ stepdaughter confronts him and they face off on the cliff from which he claims his wife jumped. Did Grimes push her?  Kai is not so sure.  Then he finds a final piece of evidence that appears to clinch the case.  Not the case he expected. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chip Hughes
• Release date: Aug 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386462330

Chip Hughes

Chip Hughes earned a Ph.D. in English at Indiana University and taught American literature, film, writing, and popular fiction for nearly three decades at the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa.  His non-fiction publications include two books and numerous essays on John Steinbeck. An active member of the Private Eye Writers of America, Chip launched the Surfing Detective mystery series with Murder on Moloka‘i (2004) and Wipeout! (2007), published by Island Heritage.  The series is now published exclusively by Slate Ridge Press, whose volumes include Kula (2011), Murder at Volcano House (2014), Hanging Ten in Paris Trilogy (2017), and reissues of the first two novels. Chip and his wife split their time between homes in Hawai‘i and upstate New York. 

Book preview

Critical Acclaim for Surfing Detective Series

Chip Hughes has captured the semi-hardboiled vernacular of the classic gumshoe novel, and given us an authentic Hawai‘i, believable surfing scenes, good pidgin, and realistic local characters.  Like a session in smooth blue water. Ka Palapala Po’okela Excellence in Literature Award

Murder on Moloka‘i:  Hughes’s pastiche of hard-boiled noir and the zen goofiness of surfing bliss is effortless and entertaining. Honolulu Star-Bulletin

Wipeout!:  "Just right for the flight to the islands. Hughes's prose flows easily, slipping into Hawaiian pidgin when needed. His series remind[s] readers of a charming new Magnum, PI." Library Journal

Kula: Zips right along . . . pacing is first-rate . . . dialogue is snappy . . . strikes a nice balance between the Hawaii of today and the film noir memes of yesterday. Honolulu Star-Advertiser

Murder at Volcano House: "Glides along at a satisfying clip. The landscape and characters are consistently colorful.  Hughes effectively uses the native Hawaiian language throughout and provides vivid descriptions of the legendary island scenery.  Entertaining Hawaiian whodunit." Kirkus Review

MURDER AT MAKAPU‘U

A Surfing Detective Novella

Chip Hughes

SLATE RIDGE PRESS

Other Surfing Detective books by Chip Hughes

MURDER ON MOLOKA‘I

WIPEOUT! & HANGING TEN IN PARIS

KULA

MURDER AT VOLCANO HOUSE

SURFING DETECTIVE DOUBLE FEATURE

VOLS. 1 & 2

SLATE RIDGE PRESS

P.O. Box 1886

Kailua, HI 96734

[e-mail]

© Chip Hughes 2017 All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part in any form or by any means without prior written permission from Slate Ridge Press

Publisher’s note: Another Problem in Paris is the second of three linked cases from the Hanging Ten in Paris Trilogy.  The three cases may be read separately or together as one longer narrative in three parts.  The trilogy begins with Hanging Ten in Paris and ends with Murder at Makapu‘u.

Cover design:  John Michener, Mediaspring

Cover photo:  Austin Reed Clouse

Acknowledgments

Many thanks once again to my wife Charlene for reading and commenting on some many Surfing Detective drafts and for being my partner on life’s many journeys. To Stu Hilt, the generous, humble, and brilliant Honolulu private detective who has guided me through every Surfing Detective mystery, this one included. And to Deborah L. Ross, Laurie Tomchak, and Nathan Avallone for providing invaluable editorial advice.  Special thanks to Lorna Hershinow for her superb copy-editing and for resetting the moral compass of both the PI and his creator. And to Cinda Inman for her eagle-eye proofreading. Finally, mahalo to Miriam Fuchs and Alan Holzman, without whom these Surfing Detective mysteries would not have been written. 

^*^*^*^*^*^

The cliffs of Makapu'u soar over the southern tip of O'ahu, sheer and craggy and brooding. Visitors hike the popular Makapu'u Lighthouse Trail to see the beacon and the panoramic views of the distant islands of Moloka'i and Maui and Lana'i.  But not everyone comes for the views or comes home to tell of them.

Tumbling down, bouncing off rocks and spinning like a ragdoll, a body plunges from the cliffs into the roiling surf far below.  A little avalanche of pebbles and shards follows.  Floating face down—lifeless—the fallen one, living and breathing only moments before, now resembles a mere speck on the deep blue sea.

one

Monday, April 8.  My phone’s alarm wakes me at six.  Why do I have to rise this early to catch a ten o'clock flight? 

I'm not in Honolulu.  I'm in Paris.  And I’ve been warned that traffic from the Left Bank to Charles de Gaulle Airport on Monday  morning can be horrendous. 

My last day in Paris and my only sightseeing will consist of a gridlocked expressway.

I shower, dress, pack my bag, and wait by the curb on Rue des Écoles for the taxi I ordered last night.  Amber beams in the east signal the rising sun.  It’s almost warm—even at this hour. Not like the early April chill I’ve just endured.  Figures, since I’m leaving today.

I gaze across the street at the iron gates of the Collège de France, just a stone's throw from the Sorbonne.  I know my way around the Latin Quarter now, after wandering lost more than once. The aroma of coffee and baking bread from the nearby boulangerie fills the morning air. I resist.  Good thing—because the taxi pulls in front of the college at six-thirty sharp, pointed in the direction of Rue du Cardinal Lemoine where I'm to pick up Marie Ho. 

When I step into street with my bag a black Mercedes screeches toward the curb and almost hits me. This happens too fast to make out the driver or the license plate.  I can’t tell if it’s just a random careless Parisian motorist or someone trying to hit me. 

The Mercedes roars away.  I slink across the street, slip into the taxi, and almost ask the driver, Did you see that?  I’m sure he did, but he probably wouldn’t understand me anyway. 

On the short ride to Rue du Cardinal Lemoine I try to uncoil and consider what just happened.  The job I completed here only yesterday—I hesitate to call it a case—involved my flying from Honolulu to Paris at the behest of Paradise College and Marie Ho’s stepfather to deliver an envelope to her.  But Marie, and her boyfriend Pierre, didn’t want to be found.  So I walked Paris neighborhoods searching for them, all the while being followed by a grey Citroën.  Not a black Mercedes. 

That doesn't stop me from wondering.  For when I finally found Marie and delivered the envelope, Pierre was run down that night by, I suspect, the same Citroën. The next morning Marie told me she had discarded the envelope unopened.  Hmmm.

This is the second problem in Paris I’ve worked on for the college. Both involved Marie. The first concerned the death of her classmate Ryan Song found hanging over her photo.  Ryan was, until Pierre, Marie’s boyfriend.  She has bad luck with boyfriends. They keep turning up dead in Paris.

The taxi veers right onto Rue Monge, skirts the belatedly blossoming chestnuts in Square Paul Langevin and then heads up Rue de Cardinal