by Kay Hadashi
“I don’t know what that means. How about Zippy’s?”
“Sounds good.”
The sun set as they drove back to town. Maile felt the lingering effects of two glasses of wine in her legs while walking from the parking garage up the stairs to the restaurant entrance. Detective Ota was already there waiting with menus when they were seated with him. Ignoring her recently adopted athlete’s diet, she ordered the Loco Moco plate, something heavy in calories.
“Where’re you going to put all that?” Ota asked when their meals arrived.
“Whatever doesn’t fit in this dress is going home with me. Is this what cops…police officers do after a stakeout? Get a meal and talk about what didn’t happen?”
“We debrief and analyze what we’ve learned, but yes, that’s about it. You didn’t get much?” Ota asked.
“I was able to look around the house, and inside the boat. I never saw the Swenberg Box.”
“Our primary objective was to…”
“Yes, I know, dig deep into Oscar’s mind for evidence, and then pry a confession out of him.”
“Were you able to meet him?” Ota asked.
“I talked with him for a few minutes on his yacht.”
“You were able to talk to him? About what?”
“I thought that’s what you wanted?”
“Well, yes, but we’ve never been able to get an audience with him.”
“How long have you been trying? Because his brother’s body was just found yesterday morning.”
“We’ve been trying to get someone in his social orbit ever since the first brother died. How were you able to so quickly?”
“I think it was the dress. Or maybe some of this spillage around the bodice. Or maybe giggling like a school girl while waving my little silk scarf around.”
“Probably the dress,” Ota said.
“I can’t believe my mother sewed this.” Maile looked up from her plate of food, wondering what his reaction might be. It was exactly what she thought. She adjusted the fit to reduce spillage anyway. “When you’re done examining my dress, my face is up here, Detective.”
“What did he have to say? I mean, what did the two of you talk about?”
“Mostly about his yacht. I got the idea that a man’s yacht is a Freudian structure related to something missing in his life. Otherwise, nothing terribly personal. Even when I asked if he had a family, he seemed reluctant to talk about it. He did admit to having two brothers, though, and he made it sound as though they were still alive, but he hadn’t seen them in a long time. That’s when he insinuated that I was an investigative reporter sent there to get some dirt on him.”
Ota and Brock shared glances.
“How did you start talking about family matters? That’s tough to tap into on a first meeting.”
“Something about where I was from, and a made-up story about having no family here. He said pretty much the same thing, and we teased each other about being orphans. I was just getting to the point where I could bring up his brothers when Honey Glazed Ham showed up and started acting all jealous.”
“Who?” Ota asked. As always, he was the first one at the table to finish eating and pushed his plate away.
“Honey Thrust,” Brock said.
“Real name, Laurie Long, proud graduate of Central Honolulu High School, and budding…” Maile cleared her throat for emphasis. “…porn star.”
“How do you know that?”
“She was bragging about being cast in a triple-X movie that’s supposed to start filming in LA next month.”
“That much we already know. How’d you know her real name?”
“Doing a little deductive investigating of my own. I thought she looked familiar, and when I looked at some of her older pictures online, I recognized her as a junior classmate. She graduated the year after I did.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Positive. When I met her, she was barely able to take her eyes off my face. She was this close to recognizing me.”
“Do you think she would if you met again?”
“Maybe. Are you sending me back? Because it might be safer if I met Oscar alone.”
“I don’t know how we can do that,” Ota said.
Maile reached into the form-fitting bodice of her dress for something and put it in the middle of the table for them to see. “This is the business card Oscar gave me. Maybe I can give him a call?”
“People hand out business cards all the time. I doubt his office secretary would put through a call from a stranger.”
She turned the card over. “He gave me his private number.”
“That dress really did work miracles.” Ota reached for the card but stopped before picking it up. “May I?”
“As long as that’s all you get grabby for.”
Ota picked it up and read both sides, even taking a quick sniff of it. “Smells like perfume.”
“Yes, mine. How’s your wife, by the way?”
“She’s fine. At one of her clubs today.”
He and Brock took pictures of both sides of the card before giving it back to Maile.
Both of the phones of Ota and Brock rang at the same time with text messages. Maile glanced at Brock’s to see the message. It looked automated.
All available officer assistance—Hawaii Kai.
“What’s that mean?” Maile asked.
“Emergency call from officers at a scene, needing back-up from anyone available.” Brock looked at Ota, who was already tossing down money of the table for their meals. “You’re going? I thought you were off-duty today?”
“Not for an assistance call.” Ota fled without saying another word.
“I need to get there, also,” Brock said. He got another text, this one with the address of the scene. “Are you able to get home?”
“I always have my bus pass. I might go see a movie at the mall across the street. There’s a new Pixar movie that…” She watched as he also fled the restaurant, leaving her alone. “I guess this dress isn’t so miraculous after all.”
Maile had a few minutes to wait before the next showing of the movie, so she took a lap around the mall. Once she was seated in the small theater, the lights went down and previews started. The theater was only half-full, leaving her with open seats around her. Just as the second preview was starting, someone sat next to her. Annoyed at the intrusion into her little world, she scooted over in her seat to get a little space. She had something of a surprise when she saw who it was.
“Brock? What are you doing here?” she whispered. “I thought there was some big scene you were going to?”
“It was at the Swenberg place.”
“What happened? Honey Mustard Salad Dressing have a wardrobe malfunction and needed the police to put her back together again?” She felt the back of her seat get kicked.
“A couple neighbors tried crashing the party, and the bouncers bounced them a little too hard. That’s when a fight broke out,” Brock whispered. “Ota and I decided that since I’d just been there as a guest, it would be better if I didn’t show up a second time as police.”
“I guess that would tip him off that he was being investigated.” she whispered, as the movie credits started. “Glad I left before that started.”
The back of Maile’s seat was kicked even harder. “Hey, you want to keep it down?”
She turned around to glare at the guy kicking her seatback. “Yeah, brah, just as soon as you stop kicking my seat.”
Brock turned around to look at the man. “Everything’s fine. Let’s just watch the movie.”
A piece of popcorn flew over Maile’s head and somehow landed inside her bodice, a perfect swish shot. She took it out. “Seriously?”
Brock turned completely around in his seat, even leaning forward toward the man. “Not going to happen again, right?”
“Or what?”
Brock got out his credential wallet and flashed his shield. “HPD. You want to go outside and discuss what, or stay
and watch the movie?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever, cop.”
The opening scene of the movie with the credits was just finishing when Brock settled in again. That’s when another piece of popcorn flew, bouncing off Maile’s shoulder and tumbling down her chest to her lap.
“Hey, cop. When you arrest a hooker, you’re supposed to take her to jail, not on a date to the movies.”
“Alright, that’s it,” Maile said, pushing past Brock to go to the aisle. She went to the next row back, grabbed the man’s bag of popcorn and dumped it into his lap, and then pointed for him to leave. “Out to the lobby, right now.”
“Dude, you better do as she says. She can get mean,” Brock told the guy. He stayed in his seat while she and the man went to the lobby. Two minutes later, she came back alone. “What happened?”
“He’s fine, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Where’d he go? Do I need to go check on him?” Brock asked.
“The last I saw, he was headed to the men’s room in a hurry. Did I miss anything?”
“Not much. I think you had more fun out there than we have in here,” he whispered.
“This isn’t a date, is it?” Maile asked after a few minutes. “Because I’m still officially married.”
“Not to me, it isn’t.”
“Why’d you come back here? You could’ve gone home.”
“I wanted to make sure you got home okay, you know, dressed like that.”
“I’ve been riding buses all my life. I know how to handle jerks like that, on the bus and in a movie theater.” She nudged him with her elbow. “I look like a hooker in this?”
“You look like you’re dressed for a party in Hawaii Kai.”
“Considering how all the other women there were dressed, I must look like a hooker.”
***
Instead of taking the bus, Maile accepted a ride home from Brock after the movie.
“You’re not going to tell me what happened with the guy in the theater lobby?” he asked as he drove.
“That’s really bothering you, isn’t it?”
“The guy was being a jerk, you hauled him to the lobby, and he never returned. Of course I’m curious.”
“It was nothing illegal, if that’s what you’re worried about. I simply convinced him his stock with women would go up if he were to watch the action film instead of the animated one.”
“That does it for women?” he asked.
“No, but the idea worked on an idiot like him. What happens next with Oscar Swenberg?”
“That’s up to Detective Ota. But before you get involved with the investigation any further than you already are, let him figure out what to do. He might ask for your help again in some small way, he might not. Just wait for him to figure it out, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Maile, please tell me you understand and agree to that.”
“Yes, I agree, okay? I’d rather not hang out with Honey Ham Hocks, or her friends, anyway.”
“What do you have against her?” Brock asked.
“From what I remember of Laurie Long, she belonged to the Young Bimbos of Honolulu Club, even back in high school.” She turned her face away to look out the window, and muttered, “Not to mention being a charter member of the Penicillin Club.”
“Okay, she had a rep, even back then. So what? None of the others girls did?”
“It went beyond having a rep. The word was that she graduated from high school on her back, if you know what I mean.”
“Not the only teenager to do that,” he said.
“It wasn’t with boys, or even to earn money. It was for grades.”
“She got together with the teachers for good grades?”
“Just to pass her classes. She was in every class she could manage taking from a male teacher. There was no secret about that, or how she got a passing grade. But behind her GPA was an even juicier rumor.”
“Seems juicy enough. Didn’t anybody ever go to the principal about that?”
“You mean Mister Jones? Rumor had it he was a part of the setup. It was kind of a racket, I guess. There were about a dozen girls that were all doing it.”
“That’s a new one. A school principal running a prostitution ring at his own school, using students as hookers and the teachers as johns.”
“Pretty diabolical, huh?” she said.
“Despicable is a better word. You said something about an even juicier rumor involving the teachers?” Brock asked.
“Yeah. A big part of the racket was blackmail. These girls would go mattress surfing with the teacher once or twice, maybe snap a selfie inside the teacher’s house while wearing almost nothing, and then blackmail the teacher with it. That’s when the gravy train of afternoon delights ended.”
“I can’t believe none of the teachers did anything about it. Surely those girls’ reputations would’ve got around to all the teachers.”
“Report it to who? The principal? Anyway, would you admit to it? That would be the end of their career in teaching, and maybe even bring criminal charges. Teachers can’t sleep with underage girls, right?”
“Sure can’t. Even if it led to blackmail, they’d be in hot water.”
“It was a perfect scheme. And Honey Yogurt was right in the middle of it. One last rumor was that she even got on the senior cheerleading squad using the same scheme. I was gone by then, but you hear things about your old school, especially about people like her.”
Brock parked in front of Maile’s building. “Wouldn’t the cheerleader coach be a woman?”
“Miss Dunstead. She wasn’t much older than us. There were rumors about her, also.”
“Rumors as in…”
“She liked hanging around the showers in the girls’ locker room.”
“That right there is grounds for criminal investigation.”
“Don’t let your moral bank account get overdrawn over it. Central High isn’t exactly the wholesome place parents think it is. On Friday evenings, they cheer on the football team, and when they win a game, players point their fingers toward Heaven, cheerleaders bounce their pompoms, and parents write booster checks. Think any of them care about their little geniuses?’
“You were one of those cheerleaders, Maile.”
“Sure was. That’s why I know how bad the problem was back then. Somehow, I was able to get out of there with some sense of moral integrity.” She looked him in the face. “That means I didn’t participate.”
“What about the pompoms?”
“Late bloomer.” She patted his thigh. “Anyway, thanks for the good time today, even if it wasn’t a date.”
“When exactly will your divorce be final?” he asked.
“It’s signed and filed. I’m just waiting on the final paperwork to be sent to me by my lawyer. I’m told that could take anywhere from weeks to months. Is there a hurry?”
“No, but I was wondering if you’re seeing anyone else?”
“Besides you for fake dates on yachts? Just Detective Ota at Chop Suey City, but don’t tell his wife that. I don’t want trouble.”
Chapter Nine
Maile had an all-day, around the island tour on Monday, something she hated because it was hard to keep up interesting chatter for several hours. Half the guests would doze off even before they stopped for lunch, and there were long stretches of highway where there was nothing to talk about. She had resorted to making up ‘island legends’ just to fill the time. By the time they got to the tail end of the tour, most guests didn’t want to get out of the van to look at a blowhole or tide pools.
When Lopaka got them back to the Manoa Tours office, Maile recognized the sedan that was parked there.
Lopaka did too. “Why is Ota here?”
Sensing trouble, Maile stayed on the bus. “I don’t know. I helped them with something yesterday, but there wasn’t any trouble. I don’t know why he’s here.”
Still on the bus, they watched as Detective Ota left the office,
glance at the tour van, get in his car, and leave.
“He knows this is the van we use,” Maile said. “If he wanted to talk to us, he would’ve come over here, right?”
“That’s what I figure. Think it has something to do with what happened on Diamond Head Saturday morning?”
With the A/C off, the van was getting hot. But she sensed bigger trouble was cooking right then. Maile wiped her face and neck with a hanky. “I hope not.”
“Go check with Thomas. He’ll know.”
“What’re you gonna do while I’m in there?” she asked.
“Hide in here!”
“What is it with you and Ota, anyway?”
“Long story.” Thomas, their boss and owner of the little company, came out of the office door and waved for one of them to come in. “Better get in there. Thomas wants to see you.”
“Thanks, brah, for stickin’ me with it.”
“Hey, I’m just the driver. I’m not the one finding all the dead bodies lately.”
Maile took her bag with all the things she might need on a tour: first aid kit, camera, sunscreen, spare Manoa Tours hats, bathroom tissue, motion sickness pills, chewing gum, sheets of paper and crayons for kids. The A/C was turned off in the office when she went in, and the expression on Thomas’s face was somewhere between misery and rage.
“What’d Ota want?” she asked. She decided not to sit down in case she needed to leave in a hurry.
“There’s trouble with Robbie.”
“Heartbreaking,” she said. “But my trouble with him doesn’t include Ota or the police.”
“Bigger trouble than you getting a divorce.”
“Legal trouble?”
“No, duh. That’s why Ota was here. There’s a police investigation going on with Robbie’s tavern.”
Maile couldn’t have been happier, that her very soon to be ex-husband was in hot water with the police. She was getting nothing out of the divorce, no alimony or support of any kind. In fact, she’d been thinking she had been lucky he never asked her for anything. Still, she had to force herself not to grin. “I thought we’re supposed to call it a pub?”
“It doesn’t matter what it’s called!”
“Okay, what are they investigating?” she asked. “Were there health code violations?”