Unknown Victim

by Kay Hadashi

  “That’s what the coroner said.”

  “He’s sure the pattern of the injury matched that of the shape of the edge of the counter?” she asked.

  “Excellent match. There’s also a match to something else in the bar, and right next to where his body was found.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The billy club he mentioned to you. That was one thing that transmitted loud and clear while you were sitting at the bar with your double whisky. Apparently, he showed it to you?”

  “Yeah. He called it his persuader. He kept it somewhere out of sight below the counter. He took it out, slapped his hand a few times, made a threatening face, before putting it away again. It seemed like he had easy access to it.”

  “You never saw exactly where he kept it?” Kona asked.

  Gina shook her head. “I couldn’t see his side of the bar.”

  “My problem is that the size and shape of the billy club is also a perfect match for the injury pattern on the back of his head.”

  “What other evidence is there? Any transfer of hair or skin cells on either the club or the counter?”

  “That’s my other big problem. The club had been wiped clean, with no hairs at all. Nor were there any fingerprints, as in none at all.”

  “What about on the counter?”

  “Also wiped clean. But the bartender I talked to explained that away as the counter being wiped down frequently during every shift, and again at the end of the night.”

  “That was Harry Tanizawa?” she asked.

  “Right. He looked pretty shaken up about it, too.”

  “Did you take him in and sit him down in an interrogation room? Because I bet he knows more about this than he’s letting on.”

  “I spent two hours with him this morning, and got a big, fat nothing. Honestly, I felt like he was in the dark. He had a pretty good idea girls were using his bar to meet johns and turn tricks in the parking lot, but never knew Chuck was behind it.”

  “Dope of the Year Award.” Gina swung her finger around the side of her head. “How could someone not see that going on?”

  “Because he didn’t want to. Chuck manipulated his way onto evening shift, leaving Harry to open the place in the morning whenever Hughes wasn’t around. When Harry worked in the evenings, Chuck kept him busy with the blender making fancy drinks. He never had the chance to see anything.”

  “Jeesh. It’s Harry’s bar, not Chuck’s.”

  “Not much of a businessman, if you ask me,” Kona said.

  “You have other ideas about the perp, right? You think Candy went back and gave him a whack with the billy club?”

  “We both heard her threaten to cut you and over nothing, and she threatened him in front of witnesses, one of whom was you.”

  Gina shook her head. “She was pissed about something, more than just about one of the other girls getting pushed around. Otherwise, she threatened him with a knife, not a club. If she did go back, why would she look for a club instead of using her knife? That doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “Me either. But I’ve got two dead pimps, plus a dead bartender, and a pissed off prostitute that knew all of them.”

  “Two pissed off prostitutes.”

  “How so?”

  “Clara is my informant.”

  “What could she possibly know about them?” he asked.

  “She worked for Danny, at least until he got her pregnant. She was his last girl before he shut down his stable. All his other girls had gone to Chuck, and that’s when the trouble really started.”

  Detective Kona was writing quickly now. “How?”

  “According to Clara, after all his other girls left him, Danny ran out of money and started living at Kapalama Park. She was taking him cheese sandwiches, maybe the only food he was getting for months.”

  “That’s taking her word for it.”

  “Think about it, Detective. The cheese sandwiches she makes here are on white bread, with mustard on one side and mayo on the other, and only Velveeta. Isn’t that exactly what the coroner found in Danny’s stomach?”

  He flipped through his notepad to find something. “Yep. Yellow cheese on white with mayo and mustard. That’s what my mother made for me as a kid. It sounds like Clara had some genuine affection for him.”

  “So did the other girls,” Gina said. “Clara said something about even after they were earning more money working for Chuck, the other girls hated him.”

  “Because?”

  “Chuck was generally mean and nasty to his corral from the sound of it.”

  Kona sighed with exasperation when he looked up at the sky. “That means Candy isn’t the only angry prostitute that was pissed at Chuck.”

  “Actually, I know of a third pissed off hooker.”

  “Criminy,” he said, flipping to a fresh page on his yellow pad. “You have a name to give me, or just a description?”

  “Both. Remember my new friend, Holly? She probably works for Chuck. Or did, anyway.”

  “I’d still like to have a long chat in an interrogation room with her. Has she contacted you since the other night?”

  “No, but I know how you can find her,” Gina said.

  “I’m waiting, Miss Santoro.”

  “Talk to Harry. They’re dating. Or at least last weekend they were.”

  Detective Kona wrote quickly in his special shorthand. “Candy, Clara, and Holly. Anyone else?”

  “Not that I know of, but Holly might have a new name by now, and a new hair color. From what I heard, she changes both rather whimsically.” Gina wiped more sweat from her face and neck. “It could’ve been any of them that went back in the middle of the night.”

  “Who was the girl he was pushing around in the hallway, the one that drew Candy into the fight?”

  “Just a very pretty girl with a seductive way about her.”

  “No idea of her name?” he asked.

  Gina looked off into the distance to avoid answering.

  “Miss Santoro, are you withholding something?”

  She looked at him with narrowed eyes, but didn’t give up a name.

  “You know her name, don’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You knew her previous to last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “From?”

  “This is difficult, Detective.”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “I don’t want unnecessary trouble for someone. These girls have enough trouble just turning tricks. They don’t need to be accused of murder, just because someone offed their pimp.”

  Detective Kona looked off in the direction of where Gina’s crew was working. “Is it someone in your crew?”

  She chuckled. “Definitely not.”

  “Did you somehow meet her in the bar on one of your visits there?” he asked.

  Gina shook her head. “I met her at the Tanizawa house last Sunday.”

  “Was she with someone?”

  “Harry.”

  “Harry as in Harry Tanizawa?” he asked.

  “It was Holly that Chuck was pushing around last night, the one that started the fight between him and Candy.” Gina already felt regret for ratting on a woman that didn’t have the arm strength to club someone to death with a single swing. “Look, I don’t want to make trouble for them, okay? They’re my employers, and for the most part, good people.”

  “I want to get this straight,” Kona said. “Holly was in the bar last night, the one Harry owns, dressed like a hooker and got smacked around by a known pimp named Chuck, who by the way is now dead?”

  “Right.”

  “And Holly is in some way involved in a personal relationship with Harry?”

  “They sure looked chummy on Sunday.”

  “Curiouser and curiouser,” Kona said while taking a few more notes. “Interesting how she’s turning tricks in Harry’s bar in the evenings when he’s not around, and being friendly with him on weekends.”

  “Do you think he know
s about that?” Gina asked.

  He shook his head. “I doubt it.”

  “Maybe I’m trying to be protective of those girls in Chuck’s stable, but I’m wondering if he might’ve just spilled some ice on the floor and slipped on that?”

  “I asked Harry about ice in the bin, and he said they emptied and drained it every night, and either he or the other morning bartender filled it again in the morning. Some sort of health code.”

  “Maybe he spilled ice when he emptied it, and slipped later?” she asked.

  “The floor was dry, no puddles anywhere in the bar area in the morning. According to Harry, the floor would still be wet in the morning after nights when it rained. Humidity, I guess. Not enough time to evaporate.”

  “According to Harry? He doesn’t know his girlfriend is turning tricks behind his back, in his own bar. What good is he as a witness?”

  Gina’s crew had quit for the day and were slowly leaving, each of them waving goodbye to her. Before she could get in Flor’s car, Detective went to Clara and pulled her aside.

  “Just a few questions about something. I can give her a ride home later,” he told Flor.

  Florinda tried to argue from the passenger seat, but Flor put the window up and drove off. To Gina’s eye, it looked like a spat started before they were even on the bridge.

  The three of them went back to the house to sit in the shade and have something cold to drink. Gina decided to sit on the side of the table with Clara.

  “Clara, I’m Police Detective Michael Kona. I’m sure you’ve seen me here at the house in the last few days?”

  “What do you want me for? I didn’t do nothing.”

  “I know you didn’t. I’m just trying to fill in some blanks with an investigation. Do you mind helping me?”

  Clara looked at Gina for a second, who nodded back to her. “I guess it’s okay.”

  “I won’t beat around the bush. Miss Santoro has told me about how you used to work for Danny. He was the man that was found on her front porch last week, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You recognized him as Danny? You got a good enough view at him?”

  Clara took a lock of her hair and wound an old curl around her finger. “Yeah, it was him.”

  “Do you know his last name?”

  “Nobody knows anybody’s last name in that business. We hardly know each other’s real name. We all used each other’s street name.”

  “What was your street name?” he asked.

  “Do I have to tell you?”

  “Why wouldn’t you want to? You don’t do that for a living anymore, right?”

  “No, but it was a stupid name.”

  “Okay, enough of that,” Kona said, turning to a fresh sheet on his pad. “For the record, did you kill Danny?”

  “What? No!” Clara ripped off what sounded like verbally abusive language aimed at Kona in Filipino. She didn’t stop until Gina patted her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. No, I didn’t kill him.”

  “Do you know who did?”

  “Someone at the park?”

  “At Kapalama Park? You can verify he was living there recently?”

  She nodded. “For the last couple of months.”

  “And you’ve been taking him cheese sandwiches?” he asked.

  “I wish it could’ve been more. He didn’t deserve to live that way. He wasn’t a bad guy. He just wasn’t any good at being a businessman.”

  “Just to verify, he’s the father of your baby?”

  Clara nodded. “He came to Flor’s house one day when they were at work. He’d just quit being a pimp. He was still healthy and strong then. He was pretty good looking, before he got sick.” She looked at both Gina and Kona with pleading eyes. “Please don’t tell Flor or Florinda about him. They don’t know nothing about the father.”

  “I don’t have any reason to,” Detective Kona said. “But you’re sure neither of them knows?”

  “You think Flor might’ve killed Danny?”

  “He’s your brother-in-law, right? And Florinda is your sister?”

  Clara started a new tirade in Filipino, then switched back to English. “Are you accusing my sister of something?”

  “Wouldn’t it seem reasonable that an older sister would defend her little sister in a situation like this?” he asked. His tone was a little too smug for Gina’s tastes.

  “Detective Kona, I’m an older sister to a younger sister, and I can assure you that no matter what happened to her, or how pissed I was about it, I wouldn’t resort to murder. I seriously doubt Florinda would, either.”

  “Why not?”

  “We both have too much to lose to do something as stupid as kill someone.” Gina crossed her arms. “Anyway, there are better ways of getting back at a man than killing him.”

  Kona set his attention on Clara again. “Almost done, Miss. Other than someone at the park, who else might’ve been mad enough at Danny to want him dead? Any of the other girls that worked for him?”

  “We all liked him. He was pretty nice to us, not so demanding, you know? I can’t think of any of them that wanted to kill him.”

  “Anybody else come to mind?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to think about it.”

  “We found a bottle cap for Tuyo beer in his pocket, a Filipino brand. Was that his favorite brand of beer?”

  She shook her head again. “He didn’t drink beer, at least not that I ever saw. Or anything else. Sure, he hung around that bar, but he’d drink sodas or whatever. He didn’t want us drinking booze, either.”

  “Why not? Too expensive?”

  “He had to pay for our drinks, and soda cost him the same as booze. He just didn’t want any of us drunk. He really was protective of his girls.”

  Detective Kona took a black and photo from his notepad and showed it to Clara. Gina recognized it as the one that had been in Danny’s wallet the day she found him. She watched Clara’s face for a reaction.

  “Do these people look familiar to you?”

  Clara looked for a full minute. “You think she’s his wife?”

  “I don’t know who they are.”

  She handed the picture back. “Either do I.”

  He made her look again. “Is the little girl in the picture you?”

  “Why should I be in a picture?”

  “Is the lady holding the girl’s hand your mother?” he asked.

  “I told you…” She tossed the snapshot down on the table. “…I don’t know them.”

  That wrapped up Detective Kona’s interview of Clara, who excused herself to the bathroom.

  “Any ideas of who killed Danny?” Gina asked, once they were alone.

  “I have footprints all over the scene, but no shoes that match them. I have fingerprints with no matches in the system. I have a dead man’s fingerprints, but have no match in the system. I have a bottle cap to beer that the dead man apparently didn’t drink. I have a photograph of people nobody knows. I have a knife with blood on it that doesn’t match anyone’s DNA in the database. And I have a troop of hookers that are more familiar with quantum physics than they were with their daddy. What I don’t have is suspects in three death, and all three of those deaths revolve one specific bar, and at least tow of them have been classified as murder.”

  “What about Chuck? Your money is on someone using the billy club on him?” Gina asked.

  “That’s what makes sense to me. No prints at all on the bat, and we know he’d handled it only a few hours before when she displayed it to you. I can’t imagine why he would clean the bat along with the rest of the bar at the end of the shift. It wasn’t used for food service, just on the occasion when he needed to persuade someone to behave themself.”

  Gina handed him a glass of lemonade. “Well, Detective, I’m glad these are your cases and not mine.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Gina didn’t hear from Detective Kona for the rest of the week, and that was just fine wi
th her. As far as she was concerned, Chuck as at least responsible for Danny’s death, if not the one who plunged the ice pick into his liver. It took more guesswork to decide on Chuck’s killer. Maybe it was Candy, or one of his other prostitutes exacting revenge for him being mean to them. Maybe even Clara had gone there late that night and given him a whack, for no other reason than taking the father of her baby away from her. Or Flor or Florinda. That was something Gina didn’t want to consider, since Clara was beginning to relax around her and the house, and cheering up a little. It seemed like the entire crew was moving on from the nerves of death, and settling into a work rhythm.

  Eventually, working together, Felix and Kenzo got the last of the wall paneling put up in the house. Next came coats of paint, and while Felix decided on which room to start with, Kenzo checked the weather for the next few days, planning on dry days for painting. Since the house was still none of her concern, Gina let them bicker over wall paint while she replaced blisters for callouses on her hands.

  After getting the umpteenth lecture from her mother about going to church, at least to meet a few more people, Gina went to early Mass Sunday morning. After that, she planned on making an extra-large kettle of summer minestrone, with the ulterior motive of taking half of it to Mr. Tanizawa as a surprise. With the way he had talked about it the time she met him, it seemed to bring a good memory to his tired soul. She’d spent most of the church service daydreaming about how to make that day’s version of the soup.

  She was just getting everything mentally assembled when she drove over the little bridge to home. Now that she’d been there for a few weeks, and had even received a snail mail letter from her mother delivered to the doorstep, she was beginning to feel like the old house was home. Even her estate project was starting to feel like a chosen profession, rather than just having a lawn-mowing job. Everything was beginning to fall into place.

  Then she saw Detective Kona’s sedan parked at the side of the house. He’d already seen her come in, or she would’ve backed around and left again.

  “Detective Kona, what’s taken you so long to come back? It’s been five whole days since you’ve been here.”