by Larry Darter
“I’d love that,” I said. “But, I really need to get started on a new case. I’m keen to have drinks later though if you want to meet up.”
“Great,” Jackie said. “I’ll call you when I get back from Maui and we’ll pick a place. Hey, we could have dinner too. You could tell me all about the new case.”
“Ahkay, sounds good,” I said. “I better go wash my face before I take off.”
I went to the restroom and splashed my face with cold water. Looking in the mirror, my eyes were puffier and redder than they’d been when I woke up this morning. I was happy I wasn’t wearing mascara or I’d really have looked a sight.
On my way out, I said goodbye to Jackie. Getting on the motorbike, I made the decision to start with a visit to Kahu Security and Patrol. Starting there would allow me to get background on the security officer who had responded to the alarm at Makana Antiques and Treasures the morning Tiger Ying went missing. I hoped I could also get the officer’s address since it seemed he worked the overnight shift. It would be easier to interview him at his home. Also, going to the security company would give me the chance to interview Salina Clark, Camargo’s former lover. Getting all that done on my first day should speed the investigation along.
I started the motorbike and left John Rodgers Field on the way to the Kahu Security and Patrol office on Waialae Avenue.
While I had to look into it, I wasn’t sure I bought Camargo’s theory that a bent security guard had stolen Tiger Ying. It was difficult to imagine a security guard having any reason to know how valuable the artifact was, much less the knowledge of how to find someone to sell it to. As Camargo had pointed out, Tiger Ying wasn’t something you took to the local pawn shop.
I suspected that Camargo simply didn’t wish to believe anyone she had a personal relationship with and trusted was capable of stealing from her. For her, it was likely much easier to imagine that the security officer, someone she didn’t know, had taken the artifact. I would have taken the bent security officer theory more seriously had the missing property been cash, or something easily convertible to cash like jewelry. A security officer stealing a rare artifact of interest to only private investors or museums seemed too improbable.
Arriving at Kahu Security and Patrol, I left the motorbike in the car park, and went inside. I identified myself to the receptionist and asked to speak with a member of the management team. She made a call. After hanging up the receptionist told me someone would be out to talk with me in a few moments. I sat down on a chair in the small reception area and picked up a company brochure from a table. Kahu Security and Patrol was a full-service company. They sold commercial alarm systems, provided alarm monitoring services, and offered on-site security guards as well as roving patrols for clients who needed those services.
After less than five minutes, a young woman wearing a beige business suit came to the reception area. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties. She was only a few inches shorter in height than me, was fair skinned, had light brown hair, and green eyes. She also had a prominent mole on her right cheek.
“Ms. O’Sullivan?” the woman said.
I stood up and offered my hand. “Yes, I’d appreciate a few minutes of your time,” I said.
The woman shook my hand. “I’m Katarina Stewart, customer relations,” she said. “The receptionist told me you’re a private investigator. If you will come back to my office, I’ll be happy to try to help. If I can’t, I’ll know better who might assist you once I learn more about the reason for your visit.”
“Thank you,” I said. I followed Stewart into the corridor she had appeared from. After passing several offices, we arrived at hers. She invited me in and asked me to sit.
“What’s this about?” Stewart said.
“I’m investigating the theft of a valuable item taken from my client’s shop, Makana Antiques and Treasures,” I said. “Your company provides her business security services. There was an alarm at her shop the morning the item went missing. I’m told one of your company’s security officers responded to the alarm along with the Honolulu police. I also understand your company later determined the alarm was a false activation. When my client arrived at the shop a few hours later that morning, she found her shop locked up and secure. But, a few minutes later she discovered that the valuable item was missing.”
“I see,” Stewart said. “What specific information did you need from us?”
“I’d like the name of the security officer who responded to the alarm,” I said. “I’d also appreciate it if you could help organize an opportunity for me to interview the officer.”
“Why do you need the information and why do you wish to speak to the officer?” Stewart said.
“He was on the premises on the morning the item went missing, and had access to a key to the building, and the alarm code,” I said.
“Surely you aren’t suggesting an employee of Kahu Security and Patrol took the item,” Stewart said.
“I’m not suggesting any such thing,” I said. “I’m investigating a theft. While I don’t suspect the officer of wrongdoing, I still have to eliminate him as a suspect because of the reasons I mentioned.”
“I’m uncertain I’ll be able to grant your requests,” Stewart said. “I must speak with my supervisor about it. Would you care to wait here a few minutes?”
“Absolutely,” I said. Stewart excused herself and left the office. By the clock on her office wall, seventeen minutes passed before she returned and sat down behind her desk.
“Since you aren’t with the police, and because of privacy concerns the company cannot divulge the name of our officer to you without first getting his permission,” Stewart said. “It would also be up to the officer whether or not to speak with you.”
“I see,” I said. “Is it possible you could call him at home to see whether he will cooperate with my inquiry?”
“Not in this case,” Stewart said. “The officer in question did not report for his shift last night and hasn’t called to explain his absence. Numerous calls to his residence have gone unanswered. He hasn’t responded to any of the messages left asking him to contact his supervisor. My supervisor attempted to contact him again a few moments ago, but there was still no answer.”
“That seems a bit sus that your officer has gone missing right after a theft occurred at the business owned by one of your customers,” I said. “Especially since he was on the premises the morning the theft occurred.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t comment on that,” Stewart said. “We assume your client has made a police report. My supervisor says the circumstances you outlined seem to be a police matter. Perhaps the police will get to the bottom of it.”
“I guess that’s it then,” I said.
“Yes, if there is nothing else I’ll escort you out,” Stewart said.
“There is one thing more,” I said. “Would it be possible for me to speak with Salina Clark while I’m here?”
“Our sales account manager? Why?"
“She is an acquaintance of my client,” I said. “I’d like to ask her a few questions.”
“Salina isn’t here at the moment,” Stewart said. “She is out on sales calls. She doesn't spend much time in the office.”
“I see,” I said. “Then I’ll try to contact her later.”
Stewart nodded, “I’ll show you out.”
I followed her back to the reception area. We said goodbye, and I went back out to the motorbike. It seemed I may have been too quick to dismiss Camargo’s theory considering the missing security officer. Perhaps he had known more about Tiger Ying than I’d given him credit for. Maybe he had taken it and had done a runner. Also, I hadn’t considered Salina Clark might be an outside salesperson. I thought it might be easier to get her address from Brandi Camargo and call on Clark at her flat.
Before leaving the car park, I checked the time. It was getting close to lunchtime, but I wanted to make another stop before having lunch.
Four
Mike Young was the police officer I’d dated. He had taken it hard when our relationship had ended. I knew I had hurt him though I hadn’t meant to. Not to mention, a crim had stabbed Mike and almost killed him because of a case I’d been working on a short time before we stopped dating. The few times I’d seen Mike since the breakup, he had been quite cold toward me. To be fair, he had no reason to do me a favor. But, I needed the name of the security guard.
Inside the lobby, I gave my name to a uniformed officer at the desk and asked to speak with Mike. About ten minutes later, the lift doors opened and Mike stepped out. He walked over to where I was standing.
“Hello T. J.,” he said.
“Hey, Mike, how’s it going?” I said.
“It’s going,” Mike said. “What are you doing here?” His manner was as frosty as an ice block, the same as he’d been the last several times we’d spoken. He didn’t seem happy to see me. I couldn’t blame him.
“I’m looking for a guy who works as a security officer at Kahu Security and Patrol,” I said. “I need to have a word with him about a case I’m working. I visited with a member of the team at the security company, but she refused to identify him or help organize a meeting with him. It’s important I talk to him. I know I have no right to ask you for a favor, but I’d appreciate it if you would help me out.”
Mike looked at me for several moments without speaking. He took a deep breath and exhaled. “What is it you expect me to do?” he said. “I can’t get involved in your private investigation. If you’re asking me to call the company and get the information for you I can’t.”
“No, I’d not ask you to do that,” I said. “The security officer responded to a burglar alarm at my client’s business around two in the morning, Tuesday last. He opened the shop for the Honolulu police officers dispatched there. I’m only asking you to check the call record for that time and date. I’m hoping the police officers who responded to the alarm entered the security guard’s name in the record.”
Mike nodded. “Where was the alarm?” he said.
“Makana Antiques and Treasures on Queen Street,” I said.
“Wait here,” Mike said. He walked over to the desk and spoke to the same uniformed officer I’d spoken to earlier. The officer nodded and typed on the computer in front of him. He reached behind him and pulled a sheet of paper off a printer and handed it to Mike. Mike studied the paper for a few moments, then walked back over. “Lee Tran,” Mike said. I wrote the name down in the small notebook I carried.
“Thanks for that, Mike,” I said. “I appreciate it. I’m headed to lunch from here. Happy to buy you lunch for helping me if you’re up for it.”
Mike wadded the sheet of paper into a ball. “No thanks,” he said. “I already have lunch plans.”
“Ahkay, no worries,” I said. “Thanks again. See you, Mike.”
“Sure, see you around,” Mike said. He turned and walked back to the lift. I walked out of the station. I felt sad about how things had turned out with Mike and I. He was such an amazing guy. I’d not meant to hurt him, but I had. It also hurt a bit he had behaved so coldly. I teared up again and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. For fuck’s sake. I was having such a shit day.
After seeing Mike, I lost interest in eating lunch. Instead, I rode back to my office. It would have been easy for Mike to have gotten Lee Tran’s address using the police department’s computer system. But, I hadn’t wanted to press my luck asking him for another favor. I subscribed to an online service that allowed me to access license records from the state department of transportation. I could do the records search and find the address using the computer at my office.
After accessing the service on the computer I found records for three individuals named Lee Tran. One was only seventeen which was too young for an armed security guard. Another was eighty-six years old which I assumed was too old. The third was a twenty-nine-year-old man. I was confident he was the Lee Tran I was looking for. The record showed he lived on Keeaumoku Street. The address included a flat number.
After locking up the office, I got back on the Kawasaki and rode to Tran’s flat. The complex where he lived was comprised of three four-story buildings with taupe-colored stucco exteriors and flat roofs. There were cement steps at one end of the buildings with black-painted decorative steel handrailings that accessed the floors above ground level. The flats were numbered sequentially from left to right.
It took only a few minutes to locate Tran’s building. His flat was on the third floor. I walked up the stairs onto the cement footpath with metal railings that matched the handrailings on the stairs. I found the flat and knocked on the white steel door. When I didn’t get a response, I knocked again. There was again no response. After a few moments I tried the doorknob and found it locked.
After descending the stairs I went in search of the property management office. Finding it, near the center of the complex, I went inside. An attractive young Hawaiian woman was sitting at a desk when I walked in. She wore a print tropical floral shift.
The woman looked up from the paperwork on her desk and smiled. “May I help you?” she said. I smiled back. In my experience people often seemed to take a perverse pleasure in refusing to cooperate with private detectives. Possibly because they knew they didn’t have to, so they didn’t. Using a ruse often yielded better results than honesty in situations like the one I faced at the moment.
“I’m T. J. O’Sullivan,” I said. “A colleague of mine lives here. He hasn’t shown up for work and isn’t answering his phone. We’re all very concerned about him. I knocked on his door, but there was no response. Could you possibly let me into his flat to check on him? It is so unlike him to miss work without calling.”
The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry ma’am, we aren’t allowed to do that for anyone but the police.”
I nodded as if I understood completely. “I suspected as much,” I said. “Might I rely on you to be discrete about something?”
The woman looked at me for a moment. “Discrete about what?”
“My colleague, Lee Tran, has been very depressed of late. We work together at Kahu Security and Patrol as armed security officers. Since Lee has been so depressed, has access to a gun, and hasn’t shown up for work, we’re all terrified that he might have... well, I’m sure you might imagine why we’re all frightfully worried might have happened.”
“Oh my God,” the woman said. It seemed the spectre of blood and brain matter splashed on the walls of one of her flats I'd conjured had got her attention. She stood quickly. “What apartment?” she said. I told her the flat number. The woman hurried to a gray metal lock box on the wall behind the desk. She opened it with a key, searched for a moment, and retrieved a brass-colored door key from a hook inside the box. Calling out to someone in a back office she said, “Lily, I have to go out for a moment to check an apartment.” The unseen woman replied, “Okay, Mona.”
I followed Mona back to the building I’d come from minutes earlier. We took the stairs to the third floor and walked to Tran’s flat. Mona knocked several times calling out each time, “Mr. Tran, it’s Mona from the office.” There was no response from inside. Her hand shaking, Mona inserted the key she had brought along and opened the door.
While I had fabricated the story, I felt a bit relieved that no foul stench had billowed out when Mona opened the door. We stepped inside a small lounge. There was a tiny dining area and kitchen to the left. There was an open doorway off the dining area I supposed entered a bedroom and perhaps an en-suite bathroom since there were no other doors. We looked around the corner of a wall into the kitchen. No corpse was on the floor there.
We cautiously walked through the open door into the bedroom. Tran wasn’t in the room and the bed
looked unslept in. There was a chair to the left of the bed. A light grey uniform with a red Kahu Security and Patrol patch on the sleeve of the uniform shirt was draped over the chair. There was a black leather gun belt with holster laying on the chair seat. The holster was empty. A door next to the chair which by the process of elimination had to lead to the bathroom was closed.
With trepidation Mona went to the door. She knocked and called out, “Mr. Tran, it’s Mona from the office. Are you okay?” When there was no reply, Mona put her shaking fingers on the doorknob, turned it, and slowly pushed open the door. She reached inside and found the light switch. The bathroom was empty. Mona put both hands on her chest and exhaled noisily. The poor woman must have been holding her breath from the time she opened the bathroom door until she found the room unoccupied. “Oh, my God, I was frightened to death we’d find him in here,” she said.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m so relieved we haven’t discovered Lee dead in his flat. But, now I’m even more puzzled by his unexplained absence from work.”
“Did you notice his car in the parking lot?” Mona said.
“No, I didn’t even think to look,” I said. Of course, I had no clue what kind of car Lee Tran owned.
“We’ll check for it on the way back to the office,” Mona said. “All our tenants have assigned parking spaces.”
I nodded. We went out of the flat. Mona re-locked the door, and we went downstairs. I followed her along the ground floor cement foot path, noticing for the first time the black numerals that coincided with the flat numbers painted on the surface of the yellow stripped parking stalls. We found Tran’s parking space. There was a white older model Kia Rio parked in the space. The car had a Kahu Security and Patrol employee parking sticker affixed to the lower lefthand corner of the front windscreen.