A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I agree, a good chapter of fluff should never be underestimated. And on that note, a little more fluff and a little more mystery ...

Chapter 15

It was six o'clock and the sun was setting. The crowd on the beach was feeling no pain due in large part to the free and plentiful drinks.

Bess and Nancy had made a trip around the appetizer table and now stood with their plates, munching bite sized treats. Frank and Joe were on either side of the women. They all enjoyed the incredible view. Crashing waves soothed their senses and eased away the daily concerns. A salty, humid breeze drifted around them.

While Nancy and Bess ate their appetizers and the guys sipped their drinks, Bess pointed out who was who at the luau.

She held her appetizer plate in one hand and pointed discreetly with the other. "Over there, next to the bar, that's the construction crew and painters and the three new guards."

Nancy and the Hardys took note of the construction crew, three buff Hawaiians, who appeared to be having the time of their lives. They'd hit the appetizer table more times than Joe had. The Hawaiians and guards had buddied up with the painters, perhaps because the painters were three young, attractive women dressed in short skirts and tank tops. The luau's festive mood had acted as an aphrodisiac for this group of young people and their uninhibited laughter filled the air. Slender, tanned shoulders unabashedly brushed against muscular ones. Amorous smiles and the hint of unspoken promises were exchanged. Yes, this group was definitely getting to know one another and enjoying every minute of it.

Off to the other side was an older, sedate group of guests. The stood with backs ramrod straight and heads held high. The appeared every bit as pompous as they were. Holding their long-stemmed glasses just so, they nodded politely and chatted quietly in a dignified manner that smacked of pretension. No bursts of laughter from this group.

Bess said, "That's the set designers, runway consultants, hair and make-up artists, and fabric coordinators."

Frank almost choked on his drink. "Fabric coordinators? What the heck kind of job is that?" His face scrunched and his mouth twisted. That couldn't be an actual job, could it?

"Yes, Frank," Bess said as if correcting a small child. "Fashion shows use fabric coordinators. It's their job to determine what fabrics work best on which model and what shoes, hair accessories, and jewelry will be worn with which fabrics."

"Well, that makes sense .. I guess. I hadn't thought of all that." Frank gave Bess a sideways glance. He would just have to take her word for it.

Inwardly, Bess glowed. It wasn't often someone knew more than Frank Hardy. Of course, this was fashion, her domain, but still, she felt a surge of pride.

Bess continued pointing out people. Frank tuned her out and counted the guests. Thirty-six people in all. Twelve at each dining table.

Bess paused her monologue and took a bite of an appetizer.

Frank jutted his chin at three married couples sitting at one of the dining tables quietly talking and enjoying their drinks.

"That's John Mansville," Frank said, "I interviewed him today." Frank also recalled Mansville's startled reaction when Diana Collins' murder was mentioned. Her very name had sparked an abrupt change in Mansville's attitude.

Frank wondered if Walter had found out anything about Diana Collins or her murder. Frank stifled the impulse to grab his cell phone and call the Hardy Detective Agency. No, Walter would phone if he'd found out anything, especially something important.

Frank's mind came back to the present in time to hear Bess identify the two couples seated on either side of Kate and John Mansville.

"The couple on the left is Parker and Paula James. Paula's fashion line is mainly handbags, scarves, hats, shoes, and gloves. In other words, accessories."

Frank couldn't make out Parker or Paula's features from this distance and the fading sunlight didn't help.

"On the right is Chase and Barbara Westin," Bess said.

The tapping of a microphone got everyone's attention. Conversations stopped and heads turned in the direction of the sound. A Hawaiian woman dressed in a creamy white dress stood behind a podium set up on a small, raised platform. She wore a colorful lei around her neck.

She adjusted the mic, flashed a bright smile, and said, "Aloha!"

The crowd responded with an enthusiastic, "Aloha!"

The construction workers, painters, and guards thrust their drinks in the air to demonstrate their enthusiam.

"Good evening, everyone. I'm Malika the Activities Director for the hotel and I'd like to extend a Hawaiian welcome to everyone. Tonight's luau is given by Mr. Lance Airedale, an distinguished and honored guest of the hotel. Mr. Airedale will be joining us shortly. But first, I want to tell you about the wonderful evening we have planned for you. Mr. Airedale will say a few words and then our very own Hilton Hula Dancers and band will dazzle you with a special performance. Audience participation is encouraged! After that you'll be treated to a traditional Hawaiian luau. Our chefs have included classic island dishes and a few American favorites. Our Samoan Fire Dancers will finish the evening off and you don't want to miss them. They're fabulous!"

The construction workers and guards shouted, "Awesome!"

Malika's smile was indulgent. "I'd like to ask everyone to please find their seats so we can begin the evening's festivities. Name cards are on the tables."

Guests obediently headed for tables. As Bess, Nancy, Frank and Joe approached their table the three married couples rose to greet them.

Kate Mansville came forward with an excited smile. Her husband trailed behind her. She took Nancy's arm, patted it, and in a conspiratorial tone said, "Nancy, you simply must introduce me to the handsome man on your arm."

Nancy's cheeks grew hot and a happy, contented smile curled the corners of her lips. "Kate Mansville, this is Frank Hardy. Frank, Kate Mansville."

Frank extended a hand. It was immediately engulfed by Kate's blanket soft hands. "So, nice to meet you. Are you helping Nancy with the investigation? She said there were three of you working on it."

"Yes, I am. My brother, Joe, is also on the case."

Kate patted Frank's hand and released it. "Well, I feel so much better knowing Nancy has two strong, handsome men working with her."

John Mansville stepped forward, his steel-blue eyes twinkling. He adjusted his wire-rim glasses and said, "So, this is Nancy Drew. I've heard all about you." He offered Nancy a hand and she shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Kate can't stop talking about you. You've definitely impressed her and that's not easy to do."

The Westins and Jameses joined the group. Handshakes, greetings, and names were exchanged, but before pleasantries could be shared, Malika tapped the microphone again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you'll please take your seats, we're ready to begin."

Joe pulled out Bess' chair. As she eased into her seat she caught sight of Melinda and Mr. Airedale making their way to the podium. Malika was waiting for them.

"Thanks, Joe," Bess said.

"My pleasure." Joe lowered himself into the chair next to hers. He leaned over and whispered, "By the way, you look gorgeous tonight. I meant to tell you earlier, just didn't get a chance."

Bess smiled at him. "You certainly make it hard to resist that Hardy charm," she teased.

"Yeah, I got all the charm. Frank got … um, I don't know what Frank got." He laughed and Bess did, too.

"Seriously though," Bess said as her laughter faded, "I think he got Nancy."

Joe followed the tilt of Bess' head and her gaze. Frank and Nancy. They were seated across the table from Bess and Joe. Joe watched as Frank leaned over and whispered something in Nancy's ear. She blushed and a smile bloomed on her face. A smile of affection.

Joe turned to Bess. "It sure looks that way. About time in my opinion."

"Amen. I'll drink to that." Bess lifted her drink.

Joe touched his glass to Bess'. "To Frank and Nancy."

# # # #

Mr. Airedale stood at the podium, Melinda by his side. He appeared thinner. The colorful Hawaiian shirt he wore hung from his shoulders.

"Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming." He paused and gathered his strength. He could do this. He would do this for Gwen. When he lifted his head, a gleam of hope shone in his eyes. "This evening is my personal thank you to each and every one of you for all the hard work you've put into getting this fashion show ready.

"Some of you are good friends of mine and have been with me for years. I can honestly tell you that your concern and support the last day has meant more to me than you'll ever know. Thank you.

"Others of you are new friends. Some of you are here for this show, and this show only, but please don't doubt your importance. Without dedicated workers like you Airedale Fashions would not be the success it is today. I learned early in my career that the best way to ensure quality products and productions was to keep my employees happy. Unhappy employees make mistakes and when that happens, I have to work harder. Early in my career, I found myself working late into the night trying to correct mistakes. I soon realized what a waste of time that was. Time is precious, folks. Time is the one thing none of us can afford to waste."

Lance Airedale paused to let those words sink in. Those words were especially poignant. "So, in closing, I'd like to thank you again for giving Airedale Fashions, and me, your time and energy. It's greatly appreciated. Each and every one of you is greatly appreciated. Please, enjoy the evening."

The crowd clapped. John Mansville rose and others followed his example. Lance Airedale received a heartfelt standing ovation. He nodded his appreciation and held up a hand to halt the applause. No one stopped clapping. So, Lance took Melinda's arm and they made their way to their table. Lance pulled out Melinda's chair and only after he sat did the applause stop.

"Thank you," Lance Airedale called out to the crowd.

Malika introduced the Hula dancers and directed everyone's attention to an area outlined by Tiki torches and ground lighting. This was the 'stage' for tonight's performances.

Six pretty, Hawaiian women with long dark hair were poised and ready to go. They were barefooted and wore grass skirts and bikini tops. They had leis around their necks, on their wrists and ankles, and on top of their heads. Three young men in cloth skirts and shorts were the band. Two men had ukuleles and the third was set up behind a drum set. Several guests turned their chairs for a better view.

A Hawaiian song and dance soon relaxed everyone. When the dance finished, one dancer stepped forward and introduced herself. "Good evening, I'm Keke. Our next performance is an island favorite called, Little Brown Gal. As we dance I'll explain the hand and body movements. Please, watch carefully."

The dancers performed slowly as Keke explained each movement. When the performance ended, Keke told the audience, "Every dance tells a story. This time, I invite you to join the dancers and me as we show you each movement again."

Melinda, who loved to dance, looked around the table. "Ladies, should we give it a try?"

The wives' club members had attended a Hula dance demonstration that morning and were eager to practice what they'd learned. Kate, Paula James, and Barbara Westin were quickly on their feet and following Melinda.

Nancy looked at Bess and arched an eyebrow. Bess smiled and got up. Neither woman wanted to be left out of the fun. They happily joined the group of women forming round the dancers.

Kate was swaying her hips and showing off the moves she'd learned that morning. Nancy admired the older woman's graceful, fluid movements.

"This is how you do it. Isn't it, Paula?" Kate said laughing. "Knowing me, I'm probably doing it all wrong!"

The three female painters, their inhibitions long gone due to a generous amount of alcohol, came sashaying over. "Can we join in?"

A thrilled Kate answered for the group, "By all means. The more the merrier!"

The next twenty minutes proved to be rip-roaring fun, not only for Nancy, Bess, and the women, but for the audience as well. The women made plenty of missteps, especially the painters who were none too steady on their feet. Throughout the dance, there were the inevitable bumps and stumbles among the women. These mishaps provided plenty of good-natured jokes and laughs, not only between the women, but from the audience as well.

Several of the women tried to get their husbands to join them. The painters had felt certain the Hawaiian construction crew would be game, but turned them down flat. Only Joe was brave enough to join the women and only after much coaxing and pleading by Bess.

Joe, always up for a little fun, and not one to take himself too seriously, didn't disappoint. His uncoordinated moves and antics set-off a new wave of laughter among the women and the audience.

By the time the Hula dancers said good night, and the ladies and Joe returned to their seats, everyone was in high spirits and thoroughly enjoying the evening.

A fine sheen of sweat glistened on Nancy's forehead when she slid into place between Frank and Chase Westin.

"That was fun," she said told Frank. She grabbed her paper napkin and dabbed her forehead. "Hula dancing is great exercise." She looked at Joe and wiggled her nose. "Especially the way Joe dances."

Frank grinned. "Yeah, he had us all in stitches."

Joe wiped his forehead with his napkin. "It was fun and I did get a good work out. You should try it sometime Frank." Joe knew full well Frank would never in a million years do such a thing. Frank was far too self-conscious and reserved.

Inwardly, Frank cringed. His brother was right, Frank could never completely let himself go. There were times, like tonight, when Frank envied Joe's ability to do just that – let loose and have fun. He had watched Joe move from lady to lady. He'd made each woman feel special. It hadn't mattered that he was making a fool of himself in the process. Joe was content with the knowledge he was bringing joy and laughter to others. And he'd brought plenty of that, to the women and the audience.

Frank patted Joe on the shoulder. "You're a better man than me, bro. You were great out there tonight."

Joe stared at his brother in stunned amazement. He'd expected a witty comeback, a sarcastic remark, not praise. Sometimes, he couldn't figure Frank out. "Uh, thanks," Joe muttered.

Nancy leaned her head on Frank's shoulder and whispered, "Sunset straight ahead. We almost missed it."

The tip of the sun was rapidly sinking into the ocean. Streaks of purple, pink, and orange filled the sky.

"One night before we leave," Frank whispered, "we're going to sit on the beach and watch the sunset from start to finish."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes, that's a promise."

# # # #

During the buffet style dinner Nancy sized up the wives' husbands. She'd interviewed Paula James and Barbara Westin that afternoon and had been curious about their husbands. Were they as outgoing and fun-loving as their wives? Did they possess the same drive and ambition? Did any of the husbands participate in their wife's business?

Chase Westin was seated on Nancy's right. His wife, Barbara, was particularly driven. Like Kate Mansville, Barbara had talked more about her fashion line than about Gwen.

Nancy studied Chase Westin as she ate. She sensed he was doing the same to her. She took a bite of swordfish and sighed as it melted in her mouth.

"How's the fish? I almost got it myself." Chase Westin stared at Nancy. His light brown eyes had an 'I'm only talking to you' expression that she found disconcerting and a little unnerving.

"Delicious. Very flavorful. I wish I could identify the spices, but sadly, I'm no cook. I can barely boil water."

Chase gave her a polite chuckle and smile. Nancy thought him good looking. He had the build of a male model, lean and athletic.

"How's your entrée?" Nancy asked.

"Excellent." He speared a forkful of sirloin strips. "I've found the food here, at the hotel, to be outstanding. How 'bout you?"

"Yes. The food has been excellent. No complaints."

The conversation stayed on neutral topics and, between bites of food and conversation, Nancy assessed Chase. He was younger than the other two husbands. No gray hair and only a few wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.

A roguish smile played upon Chase Westin's mouth. "So, Miss Drew. How's the case going? Any suspects yet?"

Nancy did not like the way he ogled her with heightened intensity. "I'm not at liberty to discuss the case." She tried to sound casual and authoritative.

She couldn't read the expression that flashed across Chase Westin's face, but he never stopped smiling. Was it a smile of indulgence? Nancy wondered if he thought her too young, too inexperienced to handle this case?

Nancy excused herself saying she wanted to refill her plate. She headed to the buffet table scolding herself. She'd initially hoped to work Gwen into the conversation. The desire had been to get Chase's reaction or insights.

What had she been thinking? It didn't seem right to bring up Gwen in this environment, a party. A place where people were having a wonderful time, enjoying good food, drinks, and the company of others.

Grief suddenly hit Nancy, sharp and hard. Gwen should have been here tonight enjoying this evening with her husband. Gwen should have been seated next to Lance Airedale, not Melinda.

"Nancy." It was the short, stocky Paula James on the arm of her husband. "Nancy, we haven't had a chance to talk to you this evening even though we're sitting at the same table. This is my husband, Parker."

Paula and Parker's sudden appearance jolted Nancy back to the present. "Nice to see you again, Paula, and nice to meet you, Mr. James."

"Call me Parker. Paula tells me you're trying to find out more about Gwen's past."

"Yes, I am." Nancy's eyes widened with hope. "Do you know something?"

Parker shrugged. "I haven't a clue what that woman did before she married Lance." Parker saw the dejected expression on Nancy's face. "Sorry, did I get your hopes up?"

"Yes, you did. Forgive me, I'm always in detective mode, looking for … hoping for clues."

"Geez, I'm real sorry about that. I only knew of Gwen through my wife. I can't remember ever talking to her alone." He gave a sad, unconcerned shrug then smiled, more a leer really, and said, "Even detectives need a night off. And what a night it is." He nodded at the full moon and beach. "That's one romantic setting." There was a suggestive gleam in his eyes.

Nancy did not like that gleam or the way his eyes traveled the full length of her body.

Paula ran a hand along her husband's arm. "It is romantic, dear."

Nancy saw the subtle displeasure on Parker James' face. She felt he was not in love with his wife, but he played the part well.

Parker and Paula James were a couple that didn't quite fit. They were polar opposites. Parker was extraordinarily handsome and aware of it, so much so that Nancy had the impression he wasn't above using his looks to suit his needs and get what he wanted. His dark brown hair was sprinkled with gray. The gray lent him an air of respectability. His rugged physique indicated he was into fitness.

Poor Paula. She was ten pounds overweight and trying to hide her age beneath a layer of make-up. Nancy wondered what twist of fate had brought these two together.

Paula looked up at her husband and Nancy saw a deep desire to loved and appreciated in Paula's eyes. "I need a little exercise after all that delicious food. Let's take a stroll before the fire dancers start, darling."

Parker's smile was tolerant.

"I'm trying to lose a few pounds, but this hotel food isn't helping," Paula told Nancy. "Coffee and dessert will be served after the fire dancers and I love sweets. I can't resist them, although I'm trying."

Parker's eyes went cold and Nancy saw the start of a sneer. Nancy sensed he was not excited about a moonlit stroll with his wife.

But when he turned to his wife, his face had transformed. He was a loving husband. "Yes, darling. A quick romantic stroll would be nice." He kissed his wife on the cheek and they walked away.

Nancy was left standing by the buffet table lost in her thoughts. Those eyes, she thought and shivered. Deception and hidden agendas had lurked in the depths of Parker James' eyes.

Frank stepped up behind Nancy and she gasped.

"Nan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"No, it's okay. I was just thinking."

"About them?" Frank jerked his chin in the direction of the Jameses.

"Yes, about them." Nancy moved toward the buffet table. "I was actually doing a little detective work."

Frank reached for a plate. "I like the sound of that."

"I've been trying to get a feel for the husbands tonight. I can't say that I trust either Chase Westin or Parker James. Parker claims he never spoke to Gwen. Chase wanted to know if we had any suspects in the case." Nancy selected fruit and put it on her plate. "My instincts say Parker James and Chase Westin are both phony. John Mansville's the only one I like. He seems sweet."

"Ha!" Frank laughed then lowered his voice. "And I don't trust him."

"Really? Why?" Nancy was taken aback.

"I can't put my finger on exactly what it is, but he rubbed me the wrong way. He got a little too defensive when I mentioned Diana Collins. I think there's something there and I intend to find out what it is."

"Wow." It was Nancy's turn to laugh. "We don't trust anybody. I wonder what that says about us?"

"That we're good detectives." Frank gave her a wink and a grin.

With their plates full, they headed back to their table to enjoy the rest of the luau.

# # # #

Rosita's eyes fluttered open. The blackest night she'd ever seen greeted her. She searched the darkness, looking for shapes, outlines, or specs of light. Nothing. Nothing at all. She closed her eyes, opened them again, and blinked. It made no difference. Open or shut, everything was dark. Not just dark, but a solid field of black.

A terrifying thought pricked the back of her mind. Blind. Was she blind? But how? And when did this happen?

She barely had time to absorb this possibility when new terror struck. Where was she and how did she get here? She struggled to remember. Searched her memory. Try as she might, she couldn't remember a thing.

Panic seized her, squeezed her chest like an iron fist and restricted the flow of air. She gasped and sucked in a mouthful of stale air. Other sensations surfaced. Her head throbbed and her body hurt. She tried to move, but her body wouldn't respond. She commanded her fingers to move, but nothing happened.

Move! she pleaded. Move! Just one finger!

No response. She tried a foot .. an arm, a leg, a toe. All met with the same frightening result. Nothing. Why couldn't she move her body?

Help! Help me! No sound came from her parched throat. She wanted to cry, she tried, but even tears eluded her.

Heaving, struggling for air, she lay in a crumpled heap on a hard surface. She didn't like it here, wherever here was. It was cold, dark, and scary. She'd fought so hard to wake, to gain consciousness, but in the end it had only brought terror and pain, not the relief she'd sought. Willingly, Rosita slipped back into the welcome calm of unconsciousness.