Wave of Death

by Charlie Vogel

  “Cream and sugar?”

  “No, black. Wait a minute, miss. I have a coffee pot in the office. I’ll make some.”

  “That’ll take too long. I’ll run next door and bring back a couple of cups. By the way, call me Jenny, not ‘Miss,’ And you are Pencils, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s what everyone calls me. How did you know?”

  “The girls back in Fleet Operations mentioned you. You used to date Jane Panterri, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, over a year ago. Jane still works there?”

  “Yup, and she’s the same Old Jane. Excuse me, Sir,” she addressed Mister Holcomb. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I watched her slender hips communicate as she drifted out the door, then I turned to the Lieutenant. He looked very busy pulling things from his briefcase. Watching him place a legal pad in his desk, I cleared my throat and asked, “How did she get transferred here?”

  Looking over the lid of his case, he responded, “Didn’t you hear her say she requested it? Why? Is there a problem?”

  “She worked for the Admiral. Why would she want to work here?”

  He shrugged then placed pencils and pens into a lacquered cylinder. I turned my back to him as he centered the pencil holder on his desk. Inspecting my uniform at the wall mirror near the door, I watched his reflection in the glass. He stared in my direction, obviously thinking over my question. Suddenly he said, “Why in hell does it matter? Maybe she wanted a change. Maybe she found out we were desperate. We have a Yeoman to do the paperwork. What does it matter who we get?”

  Picking up my white hat, I responded, “Yes, Sir, you’re right. Now that we have that someone to do the all-important pencil pushing, I’m out of here. Like I said, I’ll be at Lo’s Restaurant talking to a Lihua Liyi.”

  “Not looking like that, Pencils. At the briefing, Captain Baker suggested we do our field work in civilian clothes. You do have some, don’t you?”

  “Yes, at the base recreation building. I rent a locker there. But I don’t understand Captain Baker’s reasoning.”

  “Something about not involving the Navy while working ashore in a civilian environment.” He waved his hand. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Whatever you do off base, the Admiral will back you up. How about a car?”

  I frowned at his comment about the Admiral that I knew wasn’t the case, but answered, “I have a car in storage.”

  “It might be better to use it instead of using a government vehicle. You’ll get reimbursed on the gas at ten cents a mile.”

  I took the square knot out of the neckerchief and tied it again for the final time. When I opened the door, the tidy little WAVE blocked my exit, a cup of coffee in each hand.

  Smiling, she said, “Why, thanks, Pencils. How did you know I was here?”

  “I didn’t. I’m leaving.”

  “Oh. You don’t even have time for coffee?”

  “Not now. I have work to do.”

  “Exactly. You should know you can’t leave until I get your signature on a few things.”

  She placed one white ceramic mug on my desk and set the other in front of Mister Holcomb. I kicked the door closed with my foot. The glass rattled.

  “Pull it out. I’m in a hurry.”

  She blinked and looked over at Mister Holcomb. Her voice took on a sharp edge. “I need your signature to show you’re authorized to sign by direction of your division officer, Mister Holcomb. I need you to sign a form to have a facsimile made. That way you won’t have to be in the office any longer than necessary signing mounds of paper-work.”

  Leaning over her desk, deliberately taking the pen from her, and deep-breathing her scent, I said, “I didn’t catch your first name.”

  “You weren’t listening then. I said it’s Jenny,” she purred.

  Damn! Every part of me came to attention. I would have to force myself to keep my mind on a working relationship, instead of a sexual one. I concluded I had endured too many long nights at sea. “Jenny. That’s right. Ah, tell me why you volunteered to be transferred here. You know this office is temporary.”

  “My enlistment is up in three months and my replacement arrived last week. I couldn’t see both of us working out of one desk, so I came here.”

  “Have you ever worked as a legal Yeoman?”

  “Pencils, when you work for the Admiral, you touch on everything. And I’ve worked for him for the past two years.”

  Looking down into her face, my gaze slid over her smooth, clean skin. She didn’t wear much make-up. Her eyes stared into my mine. Right that instant I wanted to kiss her and she would have let me.

  Clearing my throat, I lowered my voice to give it a manly sound, “I have a package on my desk. Do you mind getting it sent to the FBI lab?”

  Her softness shifted into military formality. “Certainly and what priority?”

  Trying to nonchalantly cover my mid-section with my white hat, I said, “Oh . . . ah, later. I-I mean ‘Urgent.’ The feds want to test it today.”

  She slid the signed forms into a messenger’s envelope. “And what time will you be back?”

  I studied my watch until it came into focus. “Sixteen hundred hours. Do, ah, you want to meet me at the mess hall when I return?”

  “Sorry, not today. I have dinner already defrosting. Maybe some other time.”

  “You live off base?”

  “Yes, a short ways from here, in Pearl City. I share an apartment with someone.”

  Tossing the pen on her desk, I asked, “And I suppose you’re dating?”

  She slid her chair back on its rollers then pulled down her skirt hem as she stood. “I hope that information has nothing to do with my job here. And if it doesn’t, I don’t believe it would be any of your business.”

  Noticing the faint blush creeping up her slender neck to her cheeks, I attempted to correct myself, “I’m just curious. Since we’ll be like a family for the next few months, I thought it would be important to know you. How would that offend you?”

  She took the envelope with the vial from my desk and turned to me. “I thought you were going to ask me for a date.” She raised a hand. “Don’t say anything until I’m finished. I want you to know, I do not go out with sailors. I’ve been a WAVE for almost four years. I was hurt once and will never let it happen again. As a short-timer, I’m even more careful.”

  From across the room, I could see moisture filling the corners of her eyes. I looked to Mister Holcomb, but he hid behind the lid of his briefcase, obviously working to ignore our exchange. I made an about face and opened the door before offering, “I’ll call in two hours and let you know my status.”

  * * *

  I took a taxi from CenPacFleet Detachment to Pearl’s Recreation Hall, where I changed into my favorite light polo shirt, shorts, and comfortable old sandals. Noticing the cramped space in my locker, I packed everything in a bag to take to the barracks. After paying the monthly locker fee at the front counter, I walked the three blocks to the storage garage.

  Parked at the far end, my 1954 Kaiser-Darrin had collected a layer of dust. I slid the key into the ignition. The six cylinder, F-head engine roared to life on the fourth try. I allowed the oil to fully pump from the pan before stepping down on the clutch pedal. The supercharged Roadster had not been started in three months. I didn’t want to burn up the engine.

  The engine sounded sluggish. I needed to get it checked. The amp gauge indicated the battery could be bad. I knew the risk of having a car in storage for long periods of time, but I had bought the car for seven hundred dollars. A Navy Captain sold it when he received orders state-side. He didn’t want to spend money to ship the extra weight. This same car would cost well over three thousand dollars at a dealership. I loved it.

  Turning from the base onto the two lane Highway 90, I stepped down on the gas. There really wasn’t anyplace to burn the cobwebs out. The speed limit on the island had been set at forty-five. The civilian cops always hid in a sugar cane field a few miles from the base wa
iting for speeders, especially of the military variety.

  Thirty minutes later, I turned onto Hotel street and crept behind traffic through the maze of pedestrians. On each side of the narrow street, bars and hotels blocked the view of the distant mountains. When I spotted Lo’s Restaurant sign less than a block away, I turned onto Nuuanu Street to find a place to park.

  Fried, greasy fish and Chinese vegetables gave my nose something to think about as I pushed open the saloon doors. I found an empty table in the rear corner and took a paper napkin to wipe off the chair’s seat. The oil cloth felt sticky against my lower arms. A plump Chinese waiter in a filthy apron and no shirt placed a one-page menu in front of me. Without looking, I asked for fried won tons.

  While waiting, I surveyed the dining area. Uniformed sailors occupied most of the two dozen tables. Not one Chinese girl in sight.

  A plastic basket lined with paper napkins and filled with dark brown, slightly burnt dumplings appeared in front of me. Looking up, I smiled into the shirtless waiter’s small, skin-tight eyes. “Do you know Lihua Liyi?”

  His expression didn’t change. “No.”

  “Aren’t there any girls working here?”

  “At night, some girls come in. I don’t know names.”

  Taking the receipt and leaving the basket untouched, I stepped to the cash register. A scrawny Oriental man with large glasses hiding his face took my two dollars and handed me fifty cents. As I motioned for him to keep it, my gaze caught on the several rows of dog-tags pinned to the wall behind him.

  The next to the last tag read “LT(JG) Lawrence Barnes.”

  The now smiling man placed the change into his shirt pocket. I stopped him from walking away with “Sir! Tell me about the dog-tags you have pinned on the wall.”

  He squinted then shrugged. “Our regular customers put them there.”

  “Do you know Mister Barnes?” I pointed to the tag.

  He didn’t look. “No.”

  “See that one. That’s his tag on the wall.”

  He shrugged. “Most of those men come at night. Dark. I don’t see them.”

  “Ah, so this is a hot spot at night? What do you have going then?”

  Watching me more carefully, he shrugged again. “We just serve food.”

  * * *

  Stepping into the brilliant sun light on the sidewalk, I took an elbow in the stomach from a passerby. Blinded, I mumbled “Excuse me.”

  My hand shading my eyes, I continued on. Half a block further, in front of a theater advertising a skin flick, I heard my name called.

  “Pencils!”

  “Yeah, Teddy! What brings you here?”

  “I could ask you the same. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you on Hotel Street. I thought you spent liberty at Waikiki.”

  “I don’t get here too much, that’s for sure. How’re things back in the office?”

  “Since you and the XO transferred, everything turned to shit. Mister Benson, the Supply Officer, is now the temporary XO. Shit! Just why in hell did you leave?”

  “It’s a long story and not a pleasant one. Tell me something, Teddy, why is Lo’s Restaurant such a popular place at night?”

  “Most of the sailors are under age to drink. They can get a drink there and it’s a good place to meet girls at night.”

  “Do you go there?”

  “I did once when I first got transferred to the ship.”

  “So, what would Mister Barnes find there that was so attractive?”

  Chapter 9

  The tour bus in front of me finally turned off the narrow street, allowing me to increase speed. Since my plans were to be back on Hotel Street around 2100 hours, I elected to have a tall glass of Scotch and soda instead of returning to the office. The company of a beautiful woman made my choice of early liberty more desirable.

  After I arrived within Waikiki’s district, I parked the Kaiser in front of Fort Derussy’s Enlisted Men’s Club. Letting the engine idle, I asked Teddy, “What’s here that attracts sailors?”

  “Cheap beer and it’s right on the beach.”

  “You must be desperate if you have to travel twenty miles from one military base to another just to have a beer on a sandy beach.”

  He looked at me like I was crazy. “I don’t come just for the beer. It’s a cheap place to rent surf boards. Of course, it helps that I can get drunk on a couple of dollars . . . if I want to.”

  “Before you go, Teddy, tell me more about Lo’s Restaurant. I can’t believe it could be a pickup place for women. What do they have there at night that’s different, that gets the women to come in for a pickup?”

  “Shit, Pencils. You never heard about the strip joint? Just get there about ten tonight and follow the crowd.”

  “Yeah, but there are strip joints up and down that street. Why would Barnes be interested in cheap trash?”

  “Well, I know he met this girl there. He always came in around eleven and they would leave after a couple of drinks.”

  “Drinks? I thought you said underage sailors go there.”

  “Pencils, you gotta get out more. The underage guys go there because the cops ain’t supposed to know about. The booze and the stripping is behind closed doors in the back room.”

  “I’m not exactly innocent, Teddy, just careful. The girl Barnes was seeing. Do you know her name?”

  “I think she uses Vicky, but that’s not her real name.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Ah, Pencils, none of those girls use their real names. Would you, if you were a whore?” I gave him a threatening look and he shook his head in disgust. “Well, I’ve seen this girl on the streets calls herself Waha or something like that. But in the strip joint, she wears a tag that says Vicky.”

  “She strips at Lo’s?”

  “You’re driving me nuts here, Pencils! She’s a hooker, like the other girls who go there. She plays with you while you’re watching the show to get you turned on. If you got the money, she’ll take you to a hotel room next door. For crying out loud, man! Go see for yourself! Live a little!”

  “I might,” I said as Teddy got out. No sense in telling him I had every intention of checking out Lo’s operation.

  I continued down Kalakaua Avenue towards the Barefoot Bar. Once there, I would repeat the ritual I had followed since meeting Donna. The ship arrived, I rushed to the bar, we had a few drinks, we made love at her place, then I returned to the ship and thought about getting to sea as soon as possible. However, this time I would not return to the ship after our love making. I would head to Lo’s Restaurant.

  I screeched to a stop as three teen-aged jaywalkers ran in front of me. Apparently, they had just gotten off a bus across the street and could not wait to splash in the ocean. My eyes followed the bouncing butts in the skimpy bikinis as they hopped and skipped from the burning pavement to the beach’s hot sand.

  Moving a few yards, I again stopped, this time behind a bus letting off passengers. My mind returned to what Teddy had said about the greasy spoon. He made it sound like the sole purpose of the place was to remove the virginity from every boot sailor in the Pacific Fleet.

  I decided not to ask Teddy about Barnes’s dog-tag on the wall. I didn’t want him to know too much of what I was doing. One thought nagged at me. Why would a commissioned officer hang around cheap whores? And what brought Barnes to that dump in the first place? After I continued for another half block, I stopped at a red light and watched another half-dozen well filled bikinis flock toward the four foot surfs. My mind leaped from Lo’s Restaurant to sex on a beach blanket until I heard honking. The light had turned. The Roadster lurched forward.

  Parking in a shaded area, I hurried across the lot to a breeze-way leading into the large, open-air portion of the Barefoot Bar. Although the hotel had been built over the top of the lounge providing shaded relief from the beach, the sun shone through the open space at the south side of the building. I took a stool at the circle-bar in the center of the establishment.
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br />   Nursing my Scotch and soda, I checked the swim wear on each of the young ladies casually conversing over their drinks. How did they pack so much skin inside so little cloth? The place had been loaded with charming females since my arrival. A hand written sign above the bar explained their presence, advertising “Ladies Happy Hour.” It said nothing about the few happy gawking males in the room, but we didn’t care. A dozen more state-side beauties shook the hot sand from their feet as they escaped the burning sun and hugged their towels and beach bags. More ladies and happier males.

  Across the counter, the bartender stopped in front of me. “Haven’t seen you for a couple weeks, Pencils. Your ship just pull in?”

  “Not too long ago, Bud. Has Donna been in?”

  “No.” He busily wiped glasses, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Thought she would’ve told you. She went to the main-land last week to take a job in San Francisco.”

  My fingers nervously tapped the rim of my drink glass. The shock of her not being there and the possibility of never seeing her again dug an empty pit deep inside my gut. I only half listened to Bud, nodding my head a few times to give him the impression I cared what he said. After several dirty jokes and my weak responses, he pushed his bar-rag along the lacquered surface toward a pretty blonde not wearing much below the chin.

  Donna’s compact, shapely body flashed into my mind. Over the past year, I never thought too much about her until after the ship tied up. I knew I didn’t love her. It had always been a physical affair between us. I had the same feelings for her that I had for Jane at CenPacFleet. Loneliness settled over me as I swallowed more of my drink. My thoughts switched to the new Third Class Yeoman back in my office. Something seemed different about her. Her elegant neck and kewpie-doll face filled my mind. I tried to compare it to Donna’s. Stunned, I realized I couldn’t pick Donna’s face out of a line-up of naked women.

  The ice rested against my teeth as I drained the glass. Someone called my name. I turned on the stool. “Hi, Rex. You’re late.”

  “For what?” He looked around, then did a double-take at his surroundings. “Wow!”