Mahu Vice

by Neil S. Plakcy

  I unlocked the door and slid under the tape. The apartment had a lingering smell of death, but I lit a couple of sticks of incense. It didn’t look like anyone had been there since the medical examiner’s office had taken away Norma’s body.

  “Everything looks fine,” I said, when I got back to the Wrangler. “I think we should leave the crime scene tape up, though. Makes the place look uninhabited.”

  “I’d better get some food,” Treasure said. “I hope Norma had cable.”

  We took her to the Foodland on Ala Moana and stocked her fridge. On our way back, Ray called Julie and arranged for her to pick him up at Norma’s. I parked across the street, checked the area one more time, and then we got out of the Wrangler, Ray and I carrying her bags of groceries like loyal vassals. At least she was pulling her own rolling suitcase.

  Ray saw Julie sitting in their car, and he waved. Just then Treasure tripped and sprawled to the ground. Her suitcase fell over and the zipper burst, and her clothing started spilling out. She began to cry.

  Julie got out of the car and hurried over. I’d met her a couple of times, when I was picking up or dropping off Ray. She was Italian, with dark, curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing a polo shirt and shorts. “Can I help you?” she said, kneeling down to Treasure. “I’m Julie, Ray’s wife.”

  Treasure let Julie stand her up, and then Ray held her while Julie stuffed the lacy lingerie back into the suitcase. Between the three of us, we got Treasure, her clothes, and her groceries up to Norma Ching’s apartment.

  Julie went into the bedroom and stripped the bed, making it up with new sheets and waving around the incense smoke. Treasure sat on the living room sofa like a lost child as I made tea and helped Ray put away the groceries. Ray saw me looking at my watch and said, “Why don’t you head out? Julie and I will stay with Treasure for a while.”

  “Thanks. I’m beat.” I walked out to the hallway where there were no signs of life, not even the nosy woman who’d been Norma’s friend. It was about ten thirty and I was due to meet Sergei at eleven. It had been a long day, and the last thing I wanted to do was spend the next couple of hours with Sergei cruising the bars, hoping one or both of us would get lucky.

  But I’d promised, and there was always the chance that we’d end up together. Our first romp had been a lot of fun, and though I was tired, my dick stiffened at the thought of a second round—especially when I remembered those pictures of him on MenSayHi.

  When I walked into the Rod and Reel Club, Sergei was already at the bar making conversation with Fred, the bartender. Fred’s handsome but brainless, a sexy dude with a buff chest, a diamond stud in his left ear, and enough charm to pave the length of the Kamehameha Highway. I felt jealous, wondering if Sergei would go home with Fred rather than with me at the end of the evening.

  But Sergei was glad to see me, enveloping me in a big bear hug, kissing me on the lips, and squeezing my butt. I felt a second wind and ordered a Longboard Lager. When it arrived, Sergei and I went outside to the patio.

  The moon moved in and out behind clouds above us. The ground light was too strong to see any stars, but the music wasn’t loud and I could smell plumeria blossoms from a tourist’s lei behind me. I started to relax.

  “How’s life in Honolulu treating you?” I asked.

  “Way different from Anchorage, I’ll tell you that. I don’t think I’ve stopped sweating since I got off the plane.”

  “Haoa working you too hard?”

  He shrugged. “I do the payroll, and I interview and hire guys. That’s the toughest part. Americans don’t want to work that hard for that money. So most of the guys these days are from someplace else. Chinese, Okinawan, Filipino, Malay, Samoan. I could run a Pacific branch of the UN if I wanted.”

  He took a swig of his beer and leaned forward. “I shouldn’t tell you this, you being a cop, but sometimes you have to look the other way when a guy doesn’t have the right paperwork. I mean, you have no idea what the government wants these days. Some guys, they just don’t have the stuff.”

  “You think they might be illegal?”

  “I don’t ask, I don’t tell.”

  I’d always thought my brothers were scrupulously honest—but who among us can pass every test? I’d lied to my family for years about my sexual orientation. Lui had sent TV reporters to chase me when I came out, making a news story out of my life. Even Haoa had reacted badly, beating up Tatiana’s friend Tico when he went on a gay-bashing spree with some of his workmen because he couldn’t deal with the fact that his little brother was a mahu.

  For the next couple of hours, Sergei and I drank, played some pool, and danced. I kept thinking about Mike, though, and when a big Samoan guy asked Sergei to dance, and they locked lips on the dance floor, I was happy to turn Sergei over to him.

  MAJOR CONVERSATIONAL SHIFTS

  Saturday morning I slept in, letting my body recover from the stress of the week. I wasn’t sure what to do with the knowledge that Sergei might be hiring illegals to work for Haoa’s landscaping firm. Should I just keep quiet? Tell my father and let him decide what to do? If I told Haoa, he’d explode; Tatiana would have to mediate. Maybe I should just go to her? It was too confusing.

  Around noon I drove out to Diamond Head and caught a few waves, stretching my body and clearing my head. On the way back, I rolled up the flaps on the Wrangler, turned the CD player up on some classic Bruddah Iz, and chilled out. It was the weekend, after all. I’d worry about what to do about Sergei on Monday.

  Since Mike and I were meeting Terri and her new boyfriend for dinner out in Hawai’i Kai, it made the most sense for him to pick me up. It was a cool night, with a stiff breeze blowing in off the ocean, and I waited outside for him wearing a navy sports jacket over khaki slacks and a light-blue oxford cloth button-down shirt.

  It was the way I’d dressed as a teenager for formal occasions, and I guess it stuck with me. “You look nice,” Mike said, when I slid into the front seat of his truck.

  There was something so déjà vu about the experience—almost by reflex I leaned across the seat and kissed his cheek, saying, “You do, too.”

  He still smelled the same, a lemon aftershave with tones of sandalwood. He must have shaved just before leaving his house, because his face was smooth. I remembered the texture of his cheek when he had a five o’clock shadow, the slight roughness that always reminded me I was kissing a man.

  Mike was wearing a blue-and-white striped shirt and black pants, and I loved the way his short sleeves took hold of his upper arms and showcased his biceps.

  “What have you been up to?” I asked. “Any progress on the shopping center investigation?”

  “I had another case, took up most of the week. This twenty-eight-year-old guy was dumped by his girlfriend because of his drinking problem, so he poured gasoline on the furniture on her lanai and set it on fire. But he didn’t realize that the wooden furniture with foam cushions would burn so fast. The stuff caught while he was standing out there yelling for her, and he ended up with third-degree burns.”

  “Bummer.”

  “It made me think about love and liquor. How when things go bad I turn to alcohol, just like this guy did. And I need to be aware of that.” He turned onto Diamond Head Road and said, “Why did you invite me tonight?”

  It was lame to say I didn’t know why. So I thought about it, and I said, “Remember when I came to your house last Sunday?”

  “It was memorable,” Mike said dryly. “Your ears must have been burning that night when my dad and I had a conversation about you.”

  “I’m not his favorite person.” I looked over at Mike. “Does he think I’m the one who made you gay?”

  Mike laughed. “You mean are you the seducer who converted his innocent little boy into a cocksucker? No, he said to me one day that he knew I was gay back in high school.”

  “So what’s he hate me for? Does he think I turned you into a drunk?”

  “Ouch.”

  “Sorry.�
��

  “Do you think we’re ever going to be able to have a conversation without one of us hurting the other?” he asked.

  “Man, your brain is just popping neurons like crazy,” I said. “I’m having trouble keeping up here. The answer to your first question is the answer to your second question.”

  “Now who’s being obscure?”

  We got onto the Kalaniana’ole Highway for the last part of the drive out to Hawai’i Kai. The mountains loomed up beside us, trapping us between them and the sea. “What I mean is that a month ago, if somebody had asked me if I still had feelings for you I would have denied it like crazy,” I said. “And then I saw you at the fire, and I realized that was a total lie.”

  I looked over at him. “When you challenged me at your house and I said that I still loved you, that was the truth. I’m not sure I love you enough to start dating again and work through all your shit, but I can’t deny there’s still something between us.” I took a deep breath. “And that’s why I asked you to come to dinner. Because I want to either get you out of my system, or get you back in my life.”

  “My dad hates you because he thinks you broke my heart, and he thinks it’s because of you that drinking became a problem for me again,” Mike said, as he pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. “And both of those things are true.”

  He got out of the truck then, forestalling any further discussion, and we saw Terri and a tall, handsome guy approaching us. Mike shrugged into a sports jacket and plastered a smile on his face.

  Terri handled the introductions. Levi Hirsch seemed like a nice guy, and there was definite chemistry between him and Terri. The four of us walked into the restaurant, where a slack key piece by Hapa was playing. The ceiling arched above us in imitation of an old Hawaiian halau, or meeting house, and the furniture was all dark wood with a floral print of hibiscus and red ginger on the cushions.

  We sat at a table on the terrace overlooking the dark ocean, making small talk. When the waiter came by, Levi said, “Why don’t we share a bottle of wine. White all right with everyone?”

  I looked over at Mike, who said, “Fine with me.” Levi surveyed the wine list, ordering a bottle of Alto Adige Sauvignon, which, according to its description, was an Italian white that was racy, with distinctive flavors of melon, grapefruit, and grass followed by spicy green peppers and gooseberry notes. I would have preferred a beer, but I went along with the crowd.

  Dinner was delicious and convivial. I couldn’t help noticing every time Mike sipped his wine, though he only had one glass and refused a refill. “No, it’s great,” he told Levi. “But I’m driving.”

  “Got to be careful when you’ve got a cop in the car with you,” Levi said.

  “I’m always careful around Kimo,” Mike said with the hint of a smile.

  Terri insisted on paying for dinner, which was a relief for me after getting myself into debt for the Wrangler. Back in Mike’s truck, I said, “That was fun. I’m glad you came.”

  “I can drink, you know.”

  Man, I wished I could anticipate some of his mind jumps. “I thought you were going to AA meetings.”

  “I am. But I don’t think I’m an alcoholic.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t look at me that way. I have a problem with alcohol. When I have emotional issues, I get drunk. I know that. I’m seeing a psychologist.”

  “Really?”

  “EAP program. I went into it voluntarily. Nobody in the department knows.”

  The full moon hung over the ocean as we drove down the Kalaniana’ole Highway. The night had gotten cooler, and I had the window rolled down just a couple of inches. The flat, straight road was a contrast to my mood; I felt like we should have been driving up the Pali Highway, with its twists and turns instead.

  “I can’t start to date you again until I work things out,” Mike said. “Man, I want to. I want to kiss you so much. But my shrink says I need to take things slow. That if we start up again, and then you dump me, I’ll end up in trouble again.” He turned to look at me, and I thought I saw tears glinting off his cheeks in the moonlight. “I can’t risk that yet.”

  “You’re not the only one with problems,” I said quietly. “I don’t want to pick up with you again just because I think it’ll make me feel better.” I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “But I do want to see you again. Do you think you can do that?”

  He looked over at me and smiled. “I can do that.”

  We sat there in silence for a while. As we turned back into Waikiki, full of neon and tourist traffic, he said, “I did learn one thing about our case. The fires at the lingerie store in Chinatown, the massage parlor in Waikele, and the acupuncture clinic all showed evidence of accelerants. It isn’t much, but it does show that they were all arsons, and there was nothing to indicate that a different guy was involved.”

  “We’ve got the girl staying in Chinatown. I think she knows more than she’s telling us, but she’s got to get good and scared before she’s going to break down.”

  “Keep me in the loop.”

  When he pulled up in front of my apartment, I leaned over to kiss his cheek again, but he turned his face so that our lips met. My pulse quickened as I reached my arm around his back and pulled him close. We kissed, my lips remembering the familiar texture of his, my cheek against his, my nose inhaling that scent of lemon and sandalwood. My dick hardened and I wanted nothing more than to drag Mike upstairs, strip him down, and fuck him until we were both senseless, until all that existed was the physical and spiritual connection between us.

  But we both knew we couldn’t do that. “Like a couple of horny teenagers in a truck,” Mike said. “Gotta love something that makes you feel like seventeen again.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t making out with sexy men in cars when I was seventeen.”

  “Neither was I. Think of all we missed.”

  “Think of all we have to look forward to,” I said.

  “Yeah. Blue balls all the way home.”

  I laughed. “You’re a goof. Drive carefully, and don’t think of me again until you’re home in bed, naked.”

  “If you don’t get out of my truck right now…”

  “I’m getting.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek one last time, then scrambled out of the truck. I climbed the outside staircase to my apartment and watched the taillights of his truck until he reached Ala Wai Boulevard and turned.

  THE GANSU POSTER

  Sunday I went over to see Treasure Chen and make sure she was okay. She was antsy, cooped up in Norma’s apartment. “It’s creepy here,” she said. “I can’t sleep in the bed. It’s like her spirit is still there. And the police tape outside? Don’t get me started.”

  I assured her we were making progress on the case, even though I didn’t feel that way. “You’re safe here. Think of it like Norma’s spirit is protecting you.”

  She laughed harshly. “For real? If Norma’s spirit is here she’s trying to figure out how to get me killed, too.” She rubbed her arms. “I got all chicken skin,” she said. “You’ve got to get me out of here.”

  “Give me another couple of days. Meanwhile, nobody is going to look for you here.”

  “That’s true. This shithole reminds me too much of where I grew up.”

  I sat down at the kitchen table and motioned her to join me. “How’d you recruit the people to work for you?” I asked. “That boy, Jingtao—it didn’t seem like he spoke English at all. He answer some kind of ad?”

  “Mr. Hu had somebody who recruited them in China, some back-ass place where there was no work. Promised them the Golden Land, come to America.”

  “Who did the visas? You?”

  “You really don’t know?” she asked.

  “Wouldn’t ask if I did.”

  “There were no visas. I mean, I guess they had tourist visas to get into the U.S., but whoever it was in China did all that.”

  “You mean those girls, and the boy, they were illegal
?”

  She laughed and smoothed back her hair. “Come on, detective. It’s prostitution. That’s the illegal part.”

  “What did you do when their visas were up? Send them back?”

  “You’re not listening. Mr. Hu picked them up at the airport and brought them to the clinic. They’d work, they’d get a little money, they’d give most of it to Mr. Hu to pay for their airfare, their apartment, everything. Sometimes Mr. Hu would sell a girl on to somebody else, especially if she got sick or lost her looks. The boys didn’t last long. Usually they didn’t like what they were doing, and they complained a lot.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “That boy, Jingtao, he was the worst. He wouldn’t do anything. Then he ran away. What a pain in the ass.” She laughed. “I guess I made a joke, huh? Pain in the ass?”

  “Yeah, funny,” I said, remembering the pain Lucas had given me.

  Before I left, I made sure she was locked in safely. “Ray or I will call you tomorrow,” I said, standing in the doorway of the apartment. “If anything happens, you have both our cell phone numbers.”

  “Just get me out of here fast,” she said. “I have a limited shelf life, you know. If I’m not going to work for Mr. Hu anymore I’ve got to find a new gig.”

  “I’ll introduce you to the guys in Vice. Maybe they can give you a lead.”

  “Big comedian.” She made a shooing motion and I stepped out in the hall, then she locked and bolted the door behind me.

  I thought about calling Mike to see if he wanted to hang out, but knew that was a bad idea. Instead I went surfing, then to bed early. Ray was already at his desk when I got to the station the next morning. “Hey, I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you,” he said.

  “I never like the sound of that. Give me the good news first.”

  “Over the weekend, Julie and I bought another car, a Toyota Highlander.”