Lurking Below the Surface: A Pari Malik Mystery, #5

By Van Argan

Her dreams were stolen in the tide pool where she took her last breath…

 

Unfortunate accident or foul play? Either way, a luxury singles tour ends in tragedy for a woman who'd come to Oahu for a fresh start.

 

The other tourists say Vanessa was secretive or desperate for excitement. She must have been alone when she snuck out to the treacherous tide pool in the moonlight. But when objects mysteriously wash ashore, including a luminous bracelet made of rare shells, it becomes clearer that her death was no accident.

 

It's up to private investigator Pari Malik to uncover the truth. She'll dig up clandestine relationships, concealed motives, and hidden agendas. It's a race against time to solve the perplexing mystery before an unknown killer strikes again or gets away with murder.

 

The intriguing characters and thrilling mystery of Lurking Below The Surface will keep you guessing until the very end. It is the fifth novel in the Pari Malik Mystery Series and it can be read as a stand-alone book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Van Argan
• Release date: Dec 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393184294

Book preview

Chapter 1

The streaks of orange , magenta, apricot, and violet entwined on the horizon and ignited Vanessa Wright’s imagination as twilight faded to dusk. 

She balanced the lightweight paddle over the cockpit, perpendicular to the kayak, and removed her helmet, liberating her wavy blond hair to float in the ocean breeze.  The sky, ablaze, seemed like a dome, and the magnificent sunset, though violent, suggested enormous intrigue. 

Suddenly, as clearly as she could see the fiery clouds above enveloping her, Vanessa glimpsed what her new life would look like.  There it was, for a split second, emblazoned in her mind in the form of both images and feelings.  Barefoot mornings on the sand.  New friends and lovers, mingling with her on garden terraces and in beachside cafes.  Working in a sunny living room, facing the ocean through vast windows, wearing only patterned challis robes adorned with palm fronds and monstera leaves as she typed on her computer.  Island hikes to mountain waterfalls.  Breezy nights under vibrant stars. 

The tropical lifestyle of her dreams was her destiny, Vanessa thought.  Finally, it was coming within reach.  She was getting so close now to putting the final pieces together.

It’s not that Vanessa disliked the Midwest.  She knew being a high school teacher was a noble and important profession.  But recent months had convinced Vanessa that she had a different calling for the next stage in her life.  Not one that was better, in comparative terms, but just a calling that had a grand purpose intended specifically for her.

Vanessa inhaled exhilarating breaths and chills surged through her body as she understood she had just witnessed a personal vision.

The changing shapes in the skies, however, led to more epiphanies.  Stray observations — from recent things she’d perceived of the other participants on the singles tour, including careless glances and words, and contradictory body language — congealed into whole forms.  New understandings.

Of course, she decided, weren’t all of these hidden agendas and masks completely obvious, once glimpsed at precise angles? 

Vanessa didn’t gasp.  She didn’t begin judging the others with intense scrutiny.  She, too, had concealed her primary motive for being on the trip.  She, too, had been wearing a mask, of sorts.

Eight of us here, and none of us — not a single one of us — are what we seem or claim to be . . .

The voices of the two men in the kayaks behind her — Dom Fortnum and Shaw Cassidy — interrupted Vanessa’s reverie.  They had caught back up to her in the bay when she’d stopped paddling.  Vanessa had intentionally zoomed ahead of them for some moments of quiet reflection, irritated to some degree by their loud voices and graceless strokes through the water that resulted in unnecessary splashing. 

Concluding their kayaking excursion around Halo Bay, the trio headed for the shore.  They glided toward the twinkling strings of lights that outlined their oceanfront cabins.  As they drew nearer, Vanessa noticed the silhouettes of two women standing in the surf and three individuals huddled together, farther back on the beach.  One of the women’s silhouettes waded deeper into the water as the kayakers rolled in on the waves and approached her.

Charging out in her tiny bikini, up to her bare thighs in the bay, the woman pointed the nearly-empty wine glass in her hand at Vanessa, and declared, You stole my ride!

Utter confusion spread across Vanessa’s face, contorting her peaceful expression into wide-eyed alarm.  Tiffany, is that you? Vanessa asked, recognizing the voice and short hair outlined in the evening silhouette.

Don’t play dumb with me, you bitch.

Tiffany Kim maneuvered directly in front of Vanessa’s kayak.  Vanessa thrashed her paddle back into the water, attempting to steer it away from her.  But Tiffany continued moving forward and Vanessa’s effort failed.  Her kayak rammed into Tiffany’s hip, causing her to stagger and drop her wine glass into the sea.

I tried to avoid hitting you, Vanessa said.

Tiffany recovered her footing, leaned forward and down, and slapped Vanessa’s cheek with her open palm.  Before Vanessa registered what had happened, Tiffany struck her again, this time striking Vanessa’s temple with her hand knotted into a fist. 

Vanessa raised her arms up to protect her head and face, but the blows kept coming.  Stop, Tiffany!  Please!

While the other kayakers struggled to get out of their watercraft to end the attack, the three individuals sitting on the beach raced into the water.  But Burgundy Thorpe, the other woman who had been standing in the surf, got to Tiffany first.  Burgundy grabbed her from behind, wrapping her arms around Tiffany’s waist, and yanked her sideways, away from Vanessa.  But Tiffany landed one final hit, on Vanessa’s forearm, and grabbed her delicate bracelet.  Vanessa pulled her arm back to protect the bracelet’s petite and rare shells, but they burst apart and scattered into the bay. 

Vanessa screamed and buried her face in her hands.  Dom, I’m so sorry!  Dom had purchased shell bracelets as gifts for her and the three other women on this leg of the singles tour. 

Dom told Vanessa he’d replace her bracelet, but she declined his offer.  By the time the group was completely ashore, Vanessa’s face was swelling and the physical stings were amplifying.  Tiffany was led away to her own cabin, while Burgundy guided Vanessa to the cabin they shared, with assistance from one of the men who helped with ice and aspirin.  Vanessa reclined in a lounge chair under the covered porch as they tended to her.  They wanted to call the police and urged Vanessa to press charges for assault and battery, but Vanessa refused. 

No police, Vanessa insisted.  Tell the others, too.  I forbid anyone from escalating this incident any further.

Burgundy reluctantly agreed, but reminded Vanessa she could change her mind and file a police report at any time.

As the night air further cooled, Vanessa remained on the covered porch and pulled the blanket over her legs up toward her chin.  Separately, throughout the evening, individuals from the tour group came by to comfort her.

It didn’t take long for Vanessa to forget about the pain. 

Earlier, serene on Halo Bay, she’d seen the future.  Her ambitious dreams and her brilliant destiny were on the cusp of fruition.  And Vanessa had seen more, too.  She’d figured out everyone’s secrets.

Do I detour my plans, she asked herself, or do I stampede directly ahead? 

Is it the right time for an escapade, a confrontation, or a warning?

Chapter 2

Nearing the end of her jog in Kapiolani Pari, south of the Honolulu Zoo, Pari Malik marveled at the emerald hues of the grass and the intricacies of the aerial roots extending from the banyan trees as the sun rose behind the Diamond Head volcanic crater.  She felt good that she was improving as a runner, breaking through fatigue and pain barriers with greater ease, and meeting new friends who were also devoted to self care. 

After stretching out her tired limbs and saying her goodbyes, Pari freed her long brown hair from a ponytail as she walked to her car.  She retrieved her cell phone from her locked glove compartment and noticed a missed call from, according to her screen, Damon Hoshino, Twelve Dimensions Travels.  Pari chugged a few gulps of water from her canteen and returned the call.

I apologize for phoning you so early, Damon said.  Did I wake you?

Nope, I’ve been up for hours, Pari answered.  I joined a running club and just finished three miles with the group.

I can’t tell you how glad I am to reach you right away.

You sound a little rattled.  Another company theft?  Months earlier Damon had hired Pari’s security firm to catch an embezzler working in Twelve Dimensions Travels’s Honolulu headquarters.

Worse than that, unfortunately.

Business or personal?  Pari and Damon had become friends years earlier when they worked together at a historic nature preserve on the northern coast of Oahu.  Pari had coordinated the security for the special business retreats and other events Damon periodically hosted at the preserve.

Business — and it’s quite urgent, Damon answered.  Any chance we can meet this morning, as soon as possible?

I’ve got to change out of athletic clothes and then I’m free.  Where do you want to meet?

What I desperately need your help with concerns a woman’s death.  I no longer believe it was an accident.  So, I’ll meet you anywhere, but I think it’s best if you come directly here, Damon said, on the east coast of the island, at Halo Bay.

Text me the address.  Once I’m in my car I’ll call you back to get the details while I’m driving your way.

FLUSTERED WITH CONCERNS Damon would miss giving her important details, Pari calmly took control of the phone conversation by peppering him with the most pertinent questions.  She started by asking a series of questions for the facts about the woman’s death and then let him speak without interruption.

The dead body of Vanessa Wright, one of the Twelve Dimensions Travels customers vacationing on the island, had been found the previous morning near the outer rim of Halo Bay, in one of the infamous tide pools below the cliffs.  The cavernous lava rock was popular with visitors, especially those seeking thrills or shocking pictures for their social media accounts.  But accidental drowning deaths were common, due to surging waves that filled the bowl-like hollows, then flushed back outward from the rock with unexpected force.  Through the years the government had taken numerous steps to block public access, from erecting warning signs to blocking off the hiking trail reaching the natural pools, but determined visitors still risked their lives and jumped inside.

Damon thought Vanessa, a high school journalism teacher, was an unlikely candidate to tempt fate in the tide pools, especially in the middle of the night.  But according to the others on the luxury singles tour, Vanessa snuck out of her cabin, alone, and hiked there without telling anyone she was leaving.  The police and emergency services had been called to the scene immediately upon the discovery of her body.  Based on the comments and questions from the officers, Damon had every indication they were treating Vanessa’s death only as an accidental drowning.

Pari arrived at the small enclave for the Halo Bay beach cabins and Damon was there, pacing back and forth, among the parking spaces.  Like her, Damon was of mixed ethnicity — European American and South Asian for Pari, Hawaiian and Japanese for Damon — with dark features and honey-colored skin.  He briefly hugged her when she stepped out of her car, expressed his gratitude that she was able to join him on such short notice, and then asked her not to speak about anything until they were out of listening range of the cabins.  A central walkway made of paving stones bisected the four cabins, two on each side, and led to a common area with an outdoor shower and storage shed for life vests, snorkeling equipment, and other vacation supplies.  A short distance further brought them to the beach access gate.  Damon relayed the gate code to Pari as he entered it, which she memorized without needing to write it down, and they walked to the left, toward the point where the flat terrain gradually transformed from beach to steep ocean cliffs. 

This was Pari’s first visit to Halo Bay.  She had heard about the shallow water, the opportunities for snorkeling, and the ring-shaped vista so popular in island photographs.  The sheen of the water ranged from turquoise to light green to pale aquamarine, in sharp contrast to the dark blue sea visible in the distance through the narrow gap where the land encircling the bay didn’t close into a full ring.  When they reached the dirt trail to ascend the land behind the cliffs, passed a six foot-high warning sign with a skull and crossbones, and jumped over a series of barriers blocking the path, Damon began speaking again.

I couldn’t risk our guests hearing us talk and forming their own conclusions, he said to Pari.  The very last thing I need — or the company needs — is hysteria and speculation about a possible homicide.  Rumors can rage like wildfire into full-blown crises nowadays within minutes.

Who found Vanessa’s body yesterday morning? Pari asked.

Jacques.  One of our other guests.  There were eight of them, now there’s seven.  Jacques’s a sculptor.  He said he wandered to the tide pools for artistic inspiration.

Did he see something on Vanessa’s body that led him to believe there might’ve been foul play involved?

No.  He said her body had been repeatedly tossed and banged against the rocks.  She was almost unrecognizable.

Did you see her before the police and other authorities arrived?

I didn’t.  They came as soon as Jacques called in the emergency.

Pari and Damon crossed yet another barrier on the trail and walked the final five hundred feet that descended from the cliffs to the tide pools.  Entry was only possible through a narrow fissure, a ravine, that resembled a cove.  Damon pointed at the largest of the hollow caverns, indicating that was where Vanessa had perished.  Pari watched as the sea crashed inside — through numerous tunnels naturally carved out of the lava rock by the force of the ocean, filling the bowls — then emptied with suction-like motions from the retreating riptides.

Pari shivered for an instant and shook her head.  Why would anyone, Damon, whether day or night, ever submit themselves to such peril?

That’s the question, he answered.  But people do.  They’ve done it throughout history on the island and taken their chances.  Keep in mind two things.  One, it’s less dangerous, supposedly, during periods of low tide.  Two, most thrill-seekers survive it, but every year, like clockwork, there are several fatalities here.

Vanessa sought thrills like this?

I don’t know.  There’s not much I can share with you about her, except for what she had included on her travel forms.  Even after what I located this morning, I didn’t want to ask the other guests questions and alert their suspicions.

Pari moved away from the tide pools and turned toward Damon.  And what did you find that makes you doubt Vanessa’s death was accidental?

A bracelet, Damon said.  I’ll show it to you when we get back to the parking area.  It’s in my car.

Vanessa’s bracelet?

Apparently not.  The other guests said Vanessa’s shell bracelet was destroyed a few hours before her death, during an altercation with another guest.

Hmm.  So I take it this is a woman’s bracelet?

Yes, a rather expensive one.  One of our male guests bought each of the four women on the tour bracelets with rare shells collected from the island of Niihau the day of the tragedy.

I’m familiar with them, but I haven’t owned one, Pari said.  Jacques found it here?

No, that’s why I’m worried this was no accident.  I myself found the bracelet washed up on the shore, not far from the access gate to the cabin enclave.  It was intact, not broken, and unblemished.  When I asked the three other women if they had lost a bracelet, can you imagine their answers?

No one claimed it?

Well, I didn’t reveal which one I found, in case that proved to be significant later.  Essentially, though, you’re right.  The three women claimed they no longer had their bracelets.  A guest named Heather said she gave her bracelet to Vanessa.  The other two — Burgundy and Tiffany — said their bracelets went missing yesterday.

Uh oh.

Yes.  I called this into the police already, but the person I spoke with wasn’t at all convinced that there was any tie between Vanessa’s accident and an unmarked bracelet found on the beach so far away.  I was told to secure the bracelet in a safe place in case an officer decided to follow up.

Damon, you seem to have no doubt that there’s a connection.

"I know these beaches.  I’ve lived in Oahu my whole life, mostly near the coasts, and I know what gets washed up on shores and what doesn’t.  It may not necessarily mean murder — which is why I’ve got to hire you to figure this whole thing out — but the dilemma with the bracelets means there’s more