Too Hot Four Hula: 4 (The Tiki Goddess Mystery Series) by Jill Marie Landis Page A

mother who’d obviously only been in the pool from her neck down. Her face was covered with an inch of foundation, and her hair was perfectly styled.
    “What’s that, Mom?” he asked.
    The woman looked at Pat. “I think it’s a woman.” She reconsidered and said, “Maybe it’s a man.”
    “No, Mom, that.” The kid pointed at the boom box.
    “It’s from the olden days. It plays CDs. Looks like it’s a radio, too.”
    The little boy stared up at Pat. “Why don’t ’cha got an iPod?”
    “How old are you, kid?” Pat asked the little boy.
    “Eight.”
    “If you wanna live to see nine you’d better get movin’.” Pat reached into the black duffle again and pulled out an empty plastic jug labeled TIPS. She handed it to a newlywed couple at a nearby table and said, “Hold this.”
    A short blond woman in navy and white striped nautical resort wear tapped Pat on the shoulder and thrust a bar menu at her.
    “Aloha, Pat! I’ve so enjoyed you on Trouble in Paradise . May I please have your autograph?” the woman said.
    Pat turned three shades of red and barked, “Hold your horses, lady. We’ll be selling T-shirts later, too.”
    “Hit it,” Kiki said.
    Pat hit the play button, and “Little Grass Shack” came booming out of the portable.
    The Maidens started dancing, making hitchhiking motions over their right shoulders as lyrics about going back to little grass shacks floated on the trade wind breeze.
    As Kiki danced she scanned the crowd. Most of the patrons at the tables were smiling, but not all. A couple of locals got up and left. She spotted the manager as he stepped out from behind the bar and edged his way closer to where Pat hovered beside the boom box. He didn’t look happy. In fact, he looked down right pissed.
    When the song ended, he said something to Pat that Kiki couldn’t hear. Pat stopped the CD, looked over at her, shrugged, and folded her arms.
    Kiki left the lineup and walked over to Pat and the manager.
    “Is there a problem?” she asked.
    “He said I had to stop the music.” Pat turned a mean-eyed squint on the manager. He appeared intent on ignoring her.
    “Why?” Kiki batted her false lashes and tried smiling.
    “No dancing out here. It’s not allowed.”
    “But we’re the Hula Maidens. We always dance.” Kiki waved her hand toward where the others had been lined up, expecting them to still be there smiling and looking professional.
    Instead, Suzi and Trish had broken rank and were signing napkins. Precious was stuck on the tabletop. Kiki watched her get on her hands and knees and ass up, she climbed down.
    Lillian stared around bewildered, patting her ratted pink hair into place. Flora had already retreated to her table. She made loud sucking sounds through her Mai Tai straw. Little Estelle was still parked beside the burly young black men. They’d given up trying to ignore her. She was squeezing one of their meaty biceps.
    The manager hadn’t caved. “I don’t care who you are. No dancing out here. We don’t have a cabaret license for this area.”
    “You don’t need a cabaret license for a hula show. Hula is considered a cultural experience for the tourists.”
    The young man looked stumped for a second. More tourists wielding cameras had gathered and were now taking photos and videos. People on the beach were walking up to see what was going on. As the crowd swelled, the waiters and waitresses weren’t able to navigate around the tables.
    “Ready?” Pat’s finger was poised over the boom box.
    “Wait just a minute now.” The manager’s frustration had escalated. His plastic smile was gone. He shoved his hand through his hair.
    “Mau kau kau!” Kiki shouted the call to attention.
    “A’i!” the Maidens shouted back. They all snapped to and bustled over to line up again. Precious climbed back onto the table top.
    Pat hit the button, and Don Ho’s recording of “Pearly Shells” started.
    “Ooh!” The crowd cheered and applauded as soon as they