I glance at the clock, and it’s after nine. Exhaustion weighs on me like lead. I can’t stand or keep my eyes open. Jackson helps me crawl into bed and turns the lights off. Then he gets into bed behind me.
He spoons me close, and I whisper, “Please don’t ever let me go.”
I feel him kiss the back of my head. “Good night, my love.”
Chapter 43
Corrine
I slept most of Sunday, and by Monday, the first guests have begun to arrive for the poker tournament. People are staggering their arrivals all week, and despite all that’s happened, I’m excited to have everyone at the estate. I don’t want anything to derail this event we’ve spent weeks putting together.
We spend the next few days doing final preparations, though Leilani doesn’t let me do much. She keeps insisting I take the time I need to recover. It’ll be embarrassing to have to explain to everyone why I look so bad during the tournament weekend, but thankfully, Leilani has given me an old Hawaiian remedy. It’s warm and wrapped in a banana leaf when she brings it to me—twice a day like clockwork. It doesn’t smell the greatest, but it has brought the swelling down.
Even that can’t do much about the wound and stitches, but I temper the green bruises with makeup. As the end of the week approaches, I’m looking better.
By Friday afternoon, everyone has arrived. I’ve been relieved of all duties. Leilani and Gillian have the weekend under control, and I’m just supposed to play hostess and enjoy myself. And that’s my plan.
As our guests wander from the pool deck to the living room, drinking mai tais and enjoying soft Don Ho music piped in over the speakers, we take in the sunset. A professional photographer takes pictures, and there are Hawaiian arts and crafts, which everyone seems to get into. Jackson makes me a puka shell anklet and makes a big deal about putting it on.
“Get a room,” someone yells, and the crowd laughs.
The gamblers congregate and talk. “Have any of you talked to the police officers from Las Vegas?” Nate asks.
There are nods all around, and it looks like everyone has.
“I got into an argument with Cecelia that morning, so I guess I’m high on the list of suspects,” Jackson says.
“Me, too.” Landon says. “I guess there was one of my fingerprints in her room, but I was never in the room, so I’m not sure how it got there.”
“Mine, too,” Mia says. “I hadn’t been in her suite, so I’m at a loss on how it got there.”
“They said that to me, too,” Mason adds. “Though Caroline and I were in there that weekend, so it made sense.”
“I think I’m the number-one suspect,” Nate says.
Everyone looks at him, confused.
“How can that be?” Caroline asks.
“I was her husband.” He shrugs. “They said she’d talked to a divorce lawyer.”
“There is no way that’s true,” Caroline says. “She glowed when she talked about you just hours before she went missing.”
“It sounds like they were fishing,” Jim says. “My team is working on this. We’ve looked at all of you, and there’s nothing there. We’re looking at what she was doing the last few weeks, and there are some pretty big holes we can’t account for.”
“I’m not comfortable with them lying to all of you,” Walker Clifton says. He’s the US attorney for Northern California. “Jim, maybe someone from my team should talk to you about what you have, and we can work together. I adored Cecelia, and I want an answer.”
“I would be eternally grateful if you got involved,” Nate says.
Drinks are passed, and as we prepare for dinner, musicians and dancers appear and perform dances from various Hawaiian and Polynesian islands. One of the male entertainers climbs a coconut tree and showers us with flower petals, blowing a conch shell to announce our luau dinner.
As we take our seats at long rows of picnic tables, the estate staff and their families join us. We’re treated to a fantastic opening where Leilani works with the entertainers to show off her kalua pork cooking in the underground oven. Everyone is stunned to see how she does this the traditional way.
“I was hoping she made it in a crockpot,” I lament, and everyone laughs.
Our emcee for the night leads us through a traditional Hawaiian prayer, followed by a full luau meal of kalua pork, lomi salmon, and various other dishes. When they place the poi on the table, Leilani says, “This is first-rate paste, Mr. Graham. Try it; you’ll like it.”
The table laughs.
After dinner, there is a traditional Hawaiian revue. I lean back in Jackson’s arms, and he holds me tight. He kisses the side of my head and whispers, “I love you.”
Everyone eventually dances, and it’s after midnight when the party finally breaks up. Everyone agrees that the poker games will start on the lanai at one o’clock tomorrow afternoon.
Housekeepers will spend the remainder of the night cleaning, and tomorrow morning Leilani tells us there will be a breakfast buffet beginning at seven.
***
The next afternoon, the poker games have been set up on the lanai, overlooking the pool deck and the ocean. They’ll start with two tables of six players.
Gillian announces the rules. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s great to see you all again. We’re playing Texas Hold’em. The buy-in is five million, and all bids start at fifty grand. As a reminder, day one allows only poker chip bets. We have two tables today and will go until we have six players left for a game tomorrow. We have cocktail servers here to
