It was late afternoon but the sun was still high in the sky, the beach glittering golden around us. I said, “I understand.” We walked back to my apartment together, and this time we hugged each other, not caring who was around to see.
Monday morning, I didn’t get a chance to tell Akoni any of my suspicions about Evan Gonsalves because he wasn’t at the station. There was a message from him that he’d gone to Honolulu Hale to check out an idea he had.
Around ten, my phone rang, and I thought it was Akoni, but instead it was Lieutenant Yumuri. “I want you and Hapa‘ele in my office now,” he said.
He hung up before I could tell him Akoni wasn’t there, so I went down the hall to his office alone. “Akoni’s at Honolulu Hale doing research,” I said. “Anything I can do for you?”
The lieutenant had a small office at the back of the station, but its size was made up for by its window on the beach. Through the glass I could see sunshine, surf, sand, and hundreds of tourists turning red. I didn’t know if I could ever concentrate on my job if I had that office and that window.
“How close are you to closing that murder case?” he asked. “It’s been almost two weeks. Why haven’t I seen any progress? I thought this was a simple gay-bashing.” He shook his head. “Goddamned faggots. Just what I don’t need on my watch.”
“That was our first direction,” I said. “Because the victim wasn’t gay, because he had tong connections, because he was robbed, we’ve eliminated that as a possibility. But it took us a while. That was just one of the dead ends we ran into.” I explained about the information we’d gotten from other divisions that hadn’t panned out. Then I hesitated. “The victim’s son said he believed his father was paying off a cop,” I finally said. “He says the cop was there that night. Akoni and I have been examining the victim’s background to see if there’s any possible connection to someone on the force.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Yumuri said. “That’s the first thing these people do, they blame the cops.”
“We’ve actually been finding some connections,” I said. I told him about the black tar bust, and a couple of more tenuous connections we’d found in the past.
“And what are you going to do when you find this cop?”
“We found the murder weapon and the lab is checking it for trace evidence,” I said. “We may get a print we can match.” I hesitated again. What the hell, I thought, I’d been covering it up for long enough. “And I actually have some additional evidence we haven’t put on paper yet.” Deep breath.
“I was out late that night, and I was on my way home past the alley when I saw a man drag the body down the alley, from the office door to the street.”
Yumuri laughed. It certainly wasn’t what I expected of him. “Good try. But you’ll never get the DA to believe that.”
“I saw it,” I said. “The man left in a black Jeep Cherokee.” I closed my eyes for a second and saw again the man dragging Tommy Pang’s lifeless body down the alley. I remembered what I had done, and felt the shame again. “I went over to the victim and felt for a pulse, and I was the one who made the call to 911. The coroner lifted my fingerprint from his neck.”
“You could have put that print on his neck during the investigation.”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t present at the scene while the body was still there. By the time I arrived the body had already been taken to the ME’s office. I had no further contact with the victim until I was present at the autopsy, when the fingerprint was lifted from his throat.”
While Yumuri digested what I had to say, I looked around at the walls of his office. I’d never really noticed the pictures there—Yumuri with the mayor, Yumuri in a crowd of officers being blessed by the Archbishop of Honolulu, though he wasn’t Catholic. Every citation he’d ever received had been carefully framed and hung, even the routine commendations for passing a year without discharging his weapon that were sent out by some computer program downtown.
There were three photos of his family on his desk, including one of him, his wife and his sons in ski parkas and goggles. They looked like large insects from a snowy planet in a distant galaxy.
The impact of what I was saying finally hit Yumuri. “Jesus Christ,” he said, and I wondered if that would be considered blasphemy from a non-observant Buddhist. “This is the sloppiest piece of police work I have ever seen in my career. If you’re not lying through your teeth you’re telling me you witnessed a murder and then left the scene?”
“I didn’t see the murder, Lieutenant. All I saw was a man drag something down an alley, which I didn’t discover was a man’s body until after the perp had left the scene. I had to leave the scene to find a phone so I could call 911.”
“I saw the report. That was a citizen call, not a cop. A cop would have given his badge number, and a cop would have returned to secure the scene until backup arrived.”
“I didn’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
I was conscious that my life was falling apart while just a few feet away hundreds of people were enjoying the vacation of a lifetime. “I’d been in a bar for a while,” I said, looking down at the floor. “I didn’t want anyone to know.” I looked up. “I know what I did was wrong. But I want to keep investigating this case. I know we can wrap it up.”
He shook his head. “You know what your trouble is, Kanapa‘aka? You just don’t think half the time. When you think, you’re a good detective. But god damn it, you’ve screwed this one up royally.”
I didn’t say anything. Finally he said, “I want to see you and Hapa‘ele back here before your shift is over.” He looked back down to his desk. “Dismissed.”
It was about two o’clock by then. I didn’t know when Akoni would be back, but I knew he’d check in by four, the end of our shift. I tried to go back to research but I couldn’t keep my mind on the paper in front of me. I hadn’t really spilled my secret yet, just told the lieutenant that I’d been in a bar, but eventually the truth was going to come out. Soon enough I was going to have to confront my homophobic boss, and probably the rest of the world, with the news that I was gay.
Finally the phone rang and I pounced on it. “Kanapa‘aka, Waikīkī station,” I said, hoping it would be Akoni.
Instead it was Thanh Nguyen from the special investigations section, with the results on the police lock. It was indeed the murder weapon; traces of blood and hair on it matched the victim. There were no clear prints, though, only smudges.
I had always assumed that once we found a suspect, my evidence would be added to what we had found. I’d be able to show that I was in the alley, that I’d seen the man drop Tommy’s body and take off in the Cherokee. But talking to Lieutenant Yumuri, I realized how tenuous my evidence would be, because I had made the 911 call anonymously. There was nothing but my fingerprint to prove I’d been in the alley at all.
Then I remembered the giraffe. Would he recognize me again? Would I recognize him? He could place me at the club at the right time, and he’d seen me go out the door.
I wasn’t sure if I felt better or worse. Each thing I had to do to prove my case was taking me one step farther out of the closet. And it assumed I’d be able to find the giraffe and that he could testify correctly.
The phone rang again. This time I answered, “Akoni?”
It was Uncle Chin. “Sorry, Uncle, I was expecting another call. Ní hao ma?” When I was really little Uncle Chin taught me a couple of Chinese phrases, and now they sprang up every time I talked to him.
“I am well. I ask questions about Tommy. Maybe you want come here sometime, find out answers.”
“My shift ends at four. I could come sometime after that.”
“Aunt Mei-Mei very happy you stay for dinner. Maybe your parents come too.”
How could I tell him my world was about to fall apart? “Sure,” I said. “But you and I will talk first.”
“Of course.”
When I hung up the phone rang again almost immediately.
“Thank God,” I said, when I heard Akoni’s voice. “The lieutenant wants to see us both before the end of shift.”
“What’s up?”
I told him. “Shit, Kimo, I told you this was going to happen.”
“I’ll do what I can to keep you out of it.”
“Shit,” he said. “I’m on my way back.”
I shifted some papers around on my desk. I looked up every time the door opened, then looked back down. Two Japanese tourists came in with a complaint and needed a translator. I volunteered, more to pass the time than anything else, but all they really wanted was directions to the Kodak Hula Show.
While I was up, I looked at the little kiosk full of bus schedules by the front door, but couldn’t find one that went anywhere I wanted to go. Then I went back to my desk and stared at a poster announcing Citizen Anti-Crime Week for a while. It was pretty ugly, the HPD shield in a kind of burnt orange with a lot of text around it.
I straightened out a paper clip and then tried to bend it back into its original shape, but it wouldn’t go. I couldn’t get the same smooth curves, no matter how hard I tried. Finally Akoni got back from Honolulu Hale.
“Did you find anything interesting?” I said, as he put his folder down on his desk.
“Tell me again how this happened,” he said. “The lieutenant called you in to ask about our progress.”
I nodded. “I wanted it to sound like we were close to an arrest.” I told Akoni what Yumuri had said. “When I told him I had personal evidence, that I’d seen the guy dragging Tommy Pang’s body down the alley, he laughed.”
“He laughed?”
“Yup. He thought I was lying. I finally convinced him, and he wasn’t happy.”
“Shit,” Akoni said. “All right, let’s get this over with.”
We walked back to the lieutenant’s office, and this time he spoke mostly to Akoni. “Do you think you can wrap this up soon?”
“We’re making progress,” Akoni said.
“Progress!” Yumuri exploded. “Progress is a suspect behind bars! You don’t have shit, do you?” He paused, seemed to struggle to maintain his temper. “You have until Wednesday, end of shift,” Yumuri said. “I want results on this or I’ll have your asses. Is that understood?”
He looked at each of us. “Understood,” Akoni said.
“Understood,” I said.
“You are history,” Akoni said as we walked back to our desks. “Kiss your badge goodbye, sign up for the private security detail at the Ala Moana Mall.”
“Thanks for your support. You find out anything useful downtown?”
He shook his head. “Not a thing. I’m not giving up on the idea that there’s a dirty cop in this somewhere, but I still have my doubts about the son and his friend,” Akoni said. “After all, they’re the ones whose stories conflict.”
“I know. Wayne says they went to that bar by the Aloha Bowl, and Derek says they went up Mount Tantalus and parked.”
“Maybe they did both. Had a couple of beers, then went up the mountain to make out.” He shivered. “Thinking of those two parked together gives me the creeps.”
“Get over it,” I said. “All right, so tonight we check out the bar and see if they were really there.”
“I really don’t want to go to that place. Suppose somebody makes a pass at me? I don’t want anybody blowing in my ear.”
“Hold on a minute.” I picked up the phone and at the same time pulled Tim’s card out of my wallet. “Tim Ryan,” I said, when the receptionist answered. “Hey, Tim, it’s Kimo. Yeah? Good. Listen, I have to go out to a bar by the Aloha Bowl called the Boardwalk tonight, to show some pictures around and check out an alibi.” I listened. “Oh it is, is it? You want to go with me?” I laughed. “I promise. All right, I’ll pick you up around ten.”
“You’re off the hook,” I said when I hung up. “I’ve got a friend to go with me.”
“You’re not wasting any time, are you? That the guy who blew in your ear?”
“He’s a lawyer. I met him at Kuhio Beach Park.”
Akoni held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear about it.”
I gathered my stuff from my desk and packed up. “I’m going to see Uncle Chin now. He said he had some information about Tommy Pang.”
“We’ve got to get this solved,” Akoni said. “Or it’s both our asses.”
“I know,” I said, as I walked out of the station.
DINNER WITH FRIENDS
My parents were already at Uncle Chin’s house by the time I arrived, the four of them sitting out on the lanai chatting, surrounded by birds and flowers. “You know your father built this house,” Uncle Chin said, as I settled into a lounge chair across from him.
“I didn’t know that,” I said. “How long ago?”
“This was my first project on my own,” my father said. “Right after you were born, when I left Amfac and went on my own.” In my memory, my father had always had his own business, but I knew that at some time in the past he had worked for Amfac, one of Hawai‘i’s Big Five companies, as a construction superintendent.
“This was new area back then,” Uncle Chin said. “I bought many pieces land. Sold your father one where your house is.”
They kept on talking about the old days, when they were young men and the world stretched out before them like a treasure chest of riches waiting to be plundered. It was hard for me to concentrate, because I kept thinking about my own future. What would I do if I left the force? I was too old to be a professional surfer by then; I had let that chance pass me by when I fled the North Shore. Like Akoni suggested, I could become a private cop, working security details for fancy condos or Ala Moana Center. I could become a private detective, chasing down errant husbands and bogus slip-and-fall claims.
I looked at my father. He was still a handsome man, graying, distinguished. He had once had many powerful friends and connections, but his friends aged as he did, and consequently the business he had built, which had provided for us all for so many years, was fading away too. Maybe I could work with him, rejuvenate the business, become a minor tycoon like he was.
But would he want me? I’d seen his face when he described Derek Pang as māhū. He didn’t want a gay son any more than Tommy Pang had. “È, Kimo, you gone away somewhere?” my father asked.
I looked up. “Sorry, Dad. It’s been a long day.”
“Time for dinner,” Aunt Mei-Mei said, standing up. “Lokelani and me, we have dinner ready chop chop.”
When the women had left the room, Uncle Chin said, “I ask many people about my son. What he do, who hate him.”
I looked at my father. He said, “I knew Tommy was Chin’s son. I helped him get his papers.”
I guessed my father was willing to stay and listen, so I said to Uncle Chin, “What did you find?”
He picked up a silver harmony ball from the table next to him and rolled it in his palm. “He was hard man, like I tell you, but no one know anyone who kill him. He was smart, my son. Not like his father like that.”
“You’re plenty smart, Chin,” my father said.
Uncle Chin smiled. “Good to have friends, no?” Then his smile faded. “My boy not have many friends. Not many enemies either, but not many friends. Many women, lots of money.”
“What kind of stuff was he doing, Uncle Chin? I know about the legitimate businesses—the bar, the pack and ship, the lingerie shop. But he must have been doing some illicit stuff too. Smuggling? Gambling? Prostitution? Drugs?”
“Hate drugs,” Uncle Chin nearly spit out. I remembered Robert, his death. Uncle Chin had always been adamantly against the drug trade. “Stupid business,” I remembered him telling me once. “Get customers, then kill them. How make life like that?”
“Did Tommy deal in drugs?” I asked gently.
Uncle Chin nodded. “Bad business. I told him many times, stop. Drugs kill his brother, he not care. Truth, I think he resent Robert’s memory, Robert born here, have advantages he no have. Even though I tr
ied make up to him.”
“Was Derek involved in any of Tommy’s businesses?” I asked. “I know about the bar. How about the others?”
“Sounds like,” Uncle Chin said. “Two boys, Derek and friend. They collect money sometimes, carry messages. Like learning business.”
“The drugs, too?”
Uncle Chin shook his head. “No. Tommy said. Derek no in drugs. I make him promise.”
“He gets all the businesses now?” I asked. “Derek?”
Uncle Chin looked disturbed, like he was seeing where I was going. “Wife gets, but Derek runs. You think Derek kill Tommy?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. You think Derek could kill his father?”
“I’m a contract builder,” my father said unexpectedly. “You hire me, I work for you. There are men like that, who kill.”
I wondered again about the relationship between my father and Uncle Chin, how much my father knew about Uncle Chin’s business, how closely he was connected. “Could that be?” I asked Uncle Chin. “Could Derek have hired someone to kill Tommy?”
Uncle Chin looked very sad, very old. “Don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t know.”
Just then my mother came in. “Come for dinner, now,” she said. My father stood and offered his arm to Uncle Chin, who struggled up from his chair. He murmured something to my father, who laughed. I wondered if Harry and I would end that way, still friends, helping each other over the rough places in our lives.
We didn’t talk any more about Tommy Pang. At dinner, Aunt Mei-Mei and my mother kept a light banter going, my father occasionally making jokes. I was happy they could all be together, support each other. Uncle Chin had aged a lot over the last few days, and it surprised me to consider that he must have loved Tommy Pang very much, even though he had called him a hard man. I knew that my father loved me and my brothers very deeply, in a way that often could not even be expressed, and I was sure he would be as crushed as Uncle Chin if one of us were to die.
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