“With the hit-and-run.”
“What the hell, you’re gonna be dead in about fifteen seconds. Screw it. With the hit-and-run.”
A drunk in a trench coat and wool cap staggered in our direction. He’d probably get picked up for vagrancy before someone helped me. In his left hand he held a paper bag, which would contain his bottle and sustenance for the night. I muttered, “You have a witness.”
I could see the rage build in Stone’s face as he glanced sideways. He yelled, “Get the hell out of here, scumbag! You’re coming with me, asshole.”
He pulled me closer—I felt my feet leaving the ground. I realized how strong Stone was and felt my own weakness in comparison. For what seemed like the hundredth time, my brain screamed, “Where’s Alexander?” I also realized how foolish I’d been to think for a moment that I could manipulate this maniac.
“Look, maybe we can work something out.”
“Too late. You’re gonna be on MySpace real soon. Real soon.”
Stone shoved me away and reached into his jacket pocket. The drunk staggered closer. Stone barked at him, “Beat it!” He pulled out the gun and aimed at my head. “Think you’re funny, asshole?” He released the safety. “Go to hell!”
The drunk grabbed Stone’s arm with one hand and thrust upwards. I damn near peed my pants as a blast from Stone’s gun shattered the urban calm. Panic erupted. People screamed. I dropped my box. Everyone else ran for cover. The paper bag in the drunk’s other hand ripped as the drunk drove a six-inch blade into Stone’s stomach.
Stone gurgled, “What the—”
From behind me, I heard a woman scream, “No! You son-of-a-bitch!” It was Harris. She stood just twenty feet away, Meyer in tow.
Stone’s voice died in his throat as the bag reddened with fresh blood.
The drunk said, “That’s for Molly.”
I grabbed the briefcase as it slowly slipped from Stone’s fingers.
The drunk thrust upwards again. He said, “And that’s for Bob.”
Simultaneously, two cops yelled, “HPD, drop the weapon!”
From what seemed like out of nowhere, police cars and cops emerged. In my panic, I dropped the briefcase. I’d survived Stone and Harris, and now I might get shot for grabbing a leather bag?
Finally, Harris would get what she deserved. I turned to give her a self-satisfied smile, but she was gone. And Meyer’s body lay on the ground.
Everywhere, cops had their guns drawn. Stone’s weapon was at his feet. The drunk released the lifeless body and let it crumple next to the gun, which he kicked toward the police. He raised both hands, and I clearly saw the face of Stone’s killer, Dadrian Daniels.
Chapter 36
While one of the officers handcuffed Daniels, another checked Stone’s body for a pulse. He glanced up, his jaw set. The officer dealing with Daniels was named Cano; the one with Stone was Routman. Cano advised Daniels of his rights as Routman called for an ambulance. Dark blood spread across the sidewalk, a red trickle of death inching toward the gutter. Bile rose in my throat, but somehow I kept myself under control.
Sirens blared in the distance, gradually growing louder. The officer approached me and introduced himself, then said, “Are you okay?”
I nodded in stunned silence, then pointed at Meyer.
The officer helping Meyer to his feet gave us a thumb’s up. My guy said, “He should be okay.”
“Can I go see him? What happened to Harris?”
“I’m going to need to ask you some questions after we get the scene secured. But you can wait together. Who’s Harris?”
“The woman who kidnapped us. She was with him!” I pointed at Meyer again.
“Can you give me a description?”
“Uh, blonde. And great legs.” I realized how stupid I sounded the moment the words were out of my mouth.
A few seconds later, the officer raised one eyebrow and held back a smile. He must have seen the stupidity I felt reflected in my eyes. “You want to think about that description for a minute, sir?”
I cocked my head in Meyer’s direction. “I’ll wait with my friend.”
When I got to where Meyer stood, we hugged. A manly hug, of course. No wimpy hugs here. I searched for Alexander. Nowhere in sight. Cano escorted Daniels, hands behind his back to a car. Routman held his position until Cano returned with the traditional crime scene tape.
Suddenly, I spotted Alexander. “What happened to you?”
Alexander hugged me, then spoke rapidly. I’d never seen him this animated and wondered if it was because he realized he’d screwed up. “You? Pay for lunch? Magnum, PI burger? Volcano fries? Talk about sending a signal.”
“Hey, I’ve paid before.”
“When the last time you pay for something other than cheap Chinese, yah?”
I grumbled, “It worked.” So, he had gotten the message. Guess he didn’t screw up.
“Yah, it worked. I went to Lulu’s. Harris almost saw me when she walked in with Meyer. You could smell trouble cause they was all stiff and fake-friendly like. The manager’s a friend and he knows lots of cops around here. He called in a favor from an off-duty guy.”
“So why the hell didn’t you do something sooner?”
“Hey, brah, the cops didn’t know what you was up to. They didn’t want to get you killed, yah?” He chuckled, “With what you told me to do, you almost wound up with three Magnum, P.I. burgers from Lulu’s instead of a rescue.”
I groaned.
Alexander interrupted, “I knew there was a problem when you said you’d pay.”
Terrific, being cheap was a bigger clue than my health. What a legacy.
The street had filled with cops and onlookers. Crime scene tape marked off the spot where Stone had died. Tourists snapped photos by the hundreds. The truly anal videotaped the scene. I wondered if someone would try to pitch this to one of the reality crime shows. Even if that didn’t happen, I could just imagine the stories about their vacations.
The onlookers made little pointing gestures and every now and again whispered to each other. The cops all seemed to have an assigned duty and canvassed the crowd for probable witnesses. I recognized a woman’s face in the crowd, the mascara-stained tears on her cheeks forming tracks of anguish. As an officer neared her position, she drifted away.
Routman stopped in front of me. “What’s your name, sir?”
Molly, Daniels' girlfriend, disappeared into the crowd. At least she’d be safe now.
I said, “Wilson McKenna.”
“Mr. McKenna, it appeared as though the victim was threatening you when we showed up. Can you tell me what happened?”
“I’m not sure where to begin, Officer. The bottom line is that Harris, the woman who set this up, was trying to blackmail Mr. Stone about his involvement in drug smuggling. And where the hell is she? You guys didn’t catch her?”
The officer shook his head as he made notes. “And what was your involvement?”
I tried to maintain my composure, but inside I knew where this was going. Alexander’s trip to take Harris into Sacred Falls Park would come out. It was only a matter of time. There was no way around it. “We—Mr. Herschel over there, and me—we’d been kidnapped by Harris. She held Meyer at gunpoint while Daniels watched me. I guess Daniels had his own ideas. He didn’t want the money. I guess he wanted revenge for what Stone had done to his girlfriend—he raped her.”
“Please, Mr. McKenna, just tell me what happened, what you witnessed.”
So, I stuck to what I’d actually seen. When I was done, I slipped and made a comment about Frank Willows.
Routman said, “Again, we’re not looking for conjecture. We’re just trying to figure out what happened here.”
“Oh, so you don’t care if Willows is a crook and involved in a drug smuggling ring.”
Routman’s eyes narrowed. “So you think that Frank Willows, a respectable businessman, is part of a drug ring? Why wasn’t he here?”
“I can’t figure that p
art out. I expected him to be with Stone. Maybe they decided that Stone could handle a couple of old duffers on his own and he took the day off. Damned if I know.”
“And maybe he had nothing to do with the whole thing. He runs a very successful business.”
Obviously, Routman believed what everyone else did about Willows. “I know, City contacts, huge construction deals, big mucky-muck.”
Routman let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m sure one of the detectives will be speaking with Mr. Willows.”
“Remember to check Stone’s MySpace page, there’s a lot there. Some of which will link him to Willows. If you’ve got a piece of paper, I can jot down the address.”
He pulled two business cards from his notepad and handed them to me. “Keep one and put the address on the back of the other.”
I jotted down the information. “He basically confesses to everything online. You guys should really check this out.”
Routman nodded as he listened. “I doubt that we’ll be able to do much with it anyway based on what you described. Besides, Mr. Stone is now dead.”
I handed the card with the info back to Routman and he stuffed it into his notepad.
Routman surveyed the crowd, then motioned for a tall man dressed in jeans and an aloha shirt to approach. Routman said, “Detective, this is Mr. McKenna. He’s stated that the female suspect kidnapped him. She held the friend hostage while the male suspect, an ex-pusher named Dadrian Daniels, watched him. He was supposed to exchange this box, which has drugs in it—”
I said, “Actually, there aren’t any drugs in there. They’re in a safe-deposit box.”
The detective wiped at his brow with a handkerchief. “You put drugs in a safe-deposit box?”
“Um, no, that would have been Bob Shapiro. It was his box.”
Routman had a confused look on his face. “So the drugs that were supposed to be in this box are in a safe-deposit box in a bank?”
“That’s where we found the flash drive, too.”
The detective said, “In the bank?”
“With the drugs. We think that Bob Shapiro put them there for safekeeping. Stone wanted his drugs back, that’s why he was here.”
The detective sniffled. “So, you’re in possession of drugs that belonged to the victim or his killer and you have a flash drive with a video as proof of the drug connection?”
I nodded.
“And what’s on the flash drive?” The detective sniffled again, stifled a sneeze, then began massaging the back of his neck.
“An argument between Bob Shapiro, Stone, and Willows. It shows motive for them wanting to kill Shapiro.”
The detective shook his head. “Who’s Shapiro?”
“A hit-and-run victim from a couple of weeks ago. Stone confessed to his murder before he died.”
Detective Sniffles pulled out his phone and punched a speed dial button. “It’s me. I’m gonna be awhile.” He disconnected and said, “Mr. McKenna, we’re going to need to run through this again. This time, from the top. And, please, don’t leave anything out.”
Chapter 37
I admit it, I was on overload. So many things had happened today that establishing the details for the cops became a real chore. They talked to me, to Meyer and, ultimately, to Alexander. The questions went on and on, the sun began to feel unbearably hot, and even the trades and the onlookers began to feel hostile. Finally, another detective, this one married to another of Alexander’s cousins—imagine that—showed up and vouched for all of us. After what felt like an eternity, we were free to leave.
Alexander, Meyer, and I decided to return to Lulu’s. We grabbed three window seats and listened to the music while they drank beer and I sipped a glass of wine. The breezes drifted through as the sun sank towards the ocean horizon. A live band started playing Hawaiian music and we listened and nursed our second drink until dark.
Under normal circumstances, the waitress would have probably had the manager move us along. But, because Alexander was friends with the manager, they allowed us to take up space. None of us wanted to leave and reenter the real world—where killers and drug dealers proliferated.
At one point, the manager came over and delivered Harris’s camera to our table. We all stared at it, wondering where it had come from.
He pointed at Meyer. “The lady he was with? She dropped this off a few minutes ago. She left a note.”
Alexander reached out, but the manager pulled his hand back. “Sorry, brah. It’s for your friend.” He handed me the note and winked. “Good for you, McKenna. That’s one hot girlfriend you got there.”
I planted my hands on the table and half rose. “Is she still here?”
“No, man, she split soon as she handed that off. Told me to wait maybe ten minutes.” He stared at me, then Alexander. “At least she’s a good tipper.” He held up a twenty, winked, then walked away.
I turned my attention to what he’d handed me. It was a white greeting card envelope with my name printed neatly on the front. The envelope was sealed and on the back, over the flap, there was a hand-drawn heart. I opened the envelope and pulled out the card.
The front of the card was a beautiful sunset with the word “Sorry” embossed in large, flowing letters. The inside had no verse, just a graceful, cursive script that I recognized. I read what Harris had written aloud. “Hi hon, sorry I caused you so much trouble. I took advantage of a wonderful friend. Hugs, Harris. PS Guess I should have stuck to my original plan instead of getting sidetracked by that damn plane.” My voice felt tight, so I cleared my throat. “She, uh, drew a little smiley face after the PS.”
Alexander pulled the card from my hand and read it. “The cops need this. Maybe they can analyze the writing or find a fingerprint.”
I yanked it back. “I’ll hold onto it. I can turn it in tomorrow. But, you can keep the camera for me.”
Throughout all of this, Meyer simply sat and nodded as he gazed out the window.
Given that the camera signified Harris’s power over Meyer and me, I think we were both glad to have Alexander take control. From the safety of our open-air nest, we followed the activities of tourists as they wandered in apparent random patterns. The restaurant had filled now, and people lined up to get in.
The band and the restaurant crowd had nearly reached rock-and-roll-concert level when Alexander said, “We gotta go!”
No sooner had we vacated our table than it was wiped clean and replacement customers seated. The natives were truly restless and wanted food and drink in Waikiki.
Our solemn little procession made its way to Meyer’s car in silence. Alexander must have sensed that I, and probably Meyer, wanted the perceived comfort of an additional warm body. Once we were safely in Meyer’s car, Alexander began to walk away. “I gonna go get my truck. Meet you at your place in a bit.”
“Thanks.” He was no more than a few feet away when I jumped out of the car. “Alexander! I’m sorry about having to tell the cops about Sacred Falls.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “No problem, brah. That detective that’s married to my cousin? That’s Jarod. He says he thinks they can overlook my ‘mistake’ in exchange for my testimony. I would have to do that anyway, so it all work out.”
He turned in the direction of his car and walked away. Meyer drove us to my place. As Meyer parked the car, he said, “Guess I should be getting ready to move back to my own place, huh?”
I remembered to speak loudly, “Yah, but not tonight. It’s already late and you never did finish cleaning up your place. Tomorrow, I can help you out. Maybe we can get Alexander to come over and lend some muscle.”
“Thanks, I’m not ready to go back yet. Tonight was just too familiar.”
“From the hilltop in Korea?”
He nodded. “I killed one of those Koreans with my knife. It was the only way.”
“Officer Routman said that some woman told you to lay on the ground back there. Is that true?”
“It was your friend, Harris. She was
gonna shoot Stone, but that Daniels guy got him first.”
“What? Why would she do that?”
“We talked a lot while we were up in that bar. She promised me she was gonna fix this. All I’m gonna say is that Harris Galvin, or whoever she is, realizes she made some bad choices here. She ain’t gonna cause you no more problems. Besides, she did what I couldn’t.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You remember the sixteen good men I talked about?”
“Yah, the soldiers, Shapiro and Lau. So what?”
“She kept Stone from making it seventeen.”
“Sorry, I don’t follow.”
“You, moron! She kept you from getting yourself killed.”
He considered me a good man? I ranked up there with Shapiro and Roger Lau? My throat went tight with emotion as we exited the car and walked to my apartment. I was so tired that I didn’t notice the door was unlocked until I'd inserted my key. I had the door opened just a crack when I saw a flashlight beam go out. Faint footsteps approached, then stopped. I threw my weight against the door and shoved with everything I had. I felt a hard connection, maybe with the intruder’s head. We heard cursing, then the crash of my TV set as the intruder went down.
“Come with me!” I yanked Meyer’s hand and we rushed down the sidewalk as fast as we could. We climbed the stairs to the roof in hopes that the intruder would escape through the parking lot and give us a glimpse of him from the rooftop. At the top of the stairs, Meyer bent over, his hands on his knees. His breaths came in ragged, raspy spurts. He looked as though he was ready to pass out. I leaned him against the wall, then went to the edge of the roof where I could peer down to the parking lot.
There was no movement in the lighted area, nothing at all. I had a sinking feeling that the intruder wanted more than just some of my stuff. That meant it had to be—
“Don’t move.”
I recognized the voice from the construction office. I whirled to see a shadowy figure pointing a pistol at my chest. I said, “Willows.”
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