“I’m a detective, ma’am.”
“I thought so,” she said, nodding. “I thought I recognized you. I may be getting old but I still have my eyesight.”
And high-powered binoculars, I thought. I brought out the pictures of Wayne’s car, and of Wayne and Derek. “I don’t know much about cars,” she said. “I suppose it could have been this one. But I couldn’t be sure.”
She was even less help with the photos of Wayne and Derek. “I’m sorry, I didn’t really see their faces, just their general build. Without seeing them in person, I couldn’t really tell.” She looked at me somewhat eagerly. “Do you want me to come down to your station for a lineup?”
“We probably will, ma’am,” I said. “But we have more information to gather. We’ll be in touch with you.” We thanked Mrs. Ianello for the tea and stood up. It was a good start, I thought, and it placed Derek and Wayne at the scene. It wasn’t enough to make the case, but it was the first step.
No one else was home until we came to Mrs. Yamanaka, who was busy with twin girls, two years old. Her house was a dramatic change from Mrs. Ianello’s, very spare and Japanese, paper-thin shoji-screens and low cushions on the floor. Terri and I slipped off our shoes at the front door and stepped down into a sunken living room.
Terri thankfully sat on the floor and played with the twins so that Mrs. Yamanaka could concentrate on my questions. She was a Nisei, first generation American, and she periodically threw Japanese comments at the little girls as they played.
She always shopped on Thursdays, she said, because that was the day her mother could come and stay with the babies. “Do you remember anything unusual when you came home?” I asked. “Strange cars in the neighborhood, strangers walking around?”
“This is a quiet area. Sometimes we get tourists looking for a way to the beach. But usually not.” She thought. “I remember I had bought ice cream,” she said, “And I was afraid it was going to melt, because it was such a hot day. So I was hurrying to get home, and just when I got here there was a car going so slowly in front of me I nearly hit it. I was annoyed. I almost blew my horn, but I only had a block to go and I was afraid they would go even slower.”
“Did you see the car stop anywhere?”
She shook her head. “As soon as I got home I started carrying in the groceries. And you know, the twins, they make a fuss, so I couldn’t pay attention to anything else.”
“You’ve been very helpful,” I said, only telling a small lie. She had indeed corroborated Mrs. Ianello’s story, which was important.
No one else in the neighborhood had seen anything. It was eleven-thirty by then, and I had to hurry to meet Lui at noon downtown. “Danny will be disappointed he missed you again,” Terri said.
“You tell him we’ll have another picnic. Soon.”
I had to drive hell-for-leather to make it into downtown in time. My brother, the big executive, values his time, and refuses to wait more than five minutes for anyone. Anyone, that is, with the exception of his wife and our mother. Once, about six years ago, our parents were supposed to take him out to dinner to celebrate his promotion to assistant station manager. Our father got tied up on a project, and our parents were about twenty minutes late to meet him. He’d already left and gone on to something else. Between his mother and his wife, I think he got blistered enough to burn off a complete layer of skin. So he’s a little more patient with them.
I’ve seen Lui at the office. He’s totally in control, and people literally cower when he yells. He can reduce a secretary or a cameraman to tears or inarticulate rage and then turn on his heel like nothing has happened. Yet his wife Liliha rules their home. To a great degree, Haoa’s wife Tatiana is the same way. It made me wonder, as I dodged and darted through downtown traffic, if I would break the pattern. Would I end up with a man like my mother, who would control my life? Or would I choose a man like my father, who would be content to sit back and hand me the reins?
Or, and here was a revolutionary suggestion, maybe I could find a partner. Somebody who’d share the duties of the drive through life with me. Unfortunately, I didn’t think it was really a matter of conscious choice. We don’t have much control over who attracts us. The rules of attraction, it seems, are stacked against individual choice. So I could be attracted to Tim, to Gunter and to Wayne Gallagher at the same time, for different reasons, and though I could fight against those attractions I couldn’t, fundamentally, do anything to change them.
I made it. Lui and I approached the coffee shop from different directions at just the same time. From a slight distance, I could watch him as he came up to me. He’s the shortest of the three of us, the one with the most pronounced Asian features. For this, I think, he was always our maternal grandfather’s favorite.
Our mother’s father lived out beyond Pearl City in an old shack, and refused to move even when my father could have built him a new house. He was crotchety and strong-willed, and Haoa and I were always a little frightened of him. Lui, as the first grandson, had a different relationship. They would get together and talk in low tones, and in his mutual rejection of us was the only unity I knew with Haoa as a child.
Lui was also an impeccable dresser. Very Brooks Brothers, always perfectly pressed. I didn’t think I’d seen him wear an aloha shirt since his teens. He even wore ties on the weekends, because, as he said, you never know who you might meet and the impression you might need to make.
I knew the impression I would make. I was wearing cargo shorts with big pockets and a purple polo shirt, with black and brown deck shoes and no socks. Usually Lui stopped a few feet away from me and shook his head in disdain at my appearance. Today, though, he surprised me by coming right up to me and hugging me.
I hugged him back. It was strange. He and Haoa were so different from each other, and from me, and yet they were my brothers, and I loved them deeply and fiercely, with a love I only recognized in surprise.
We ordered bentos, Japanese-style box lunches, and chatted about his family, then sat down to eat. “So what can I do for you?” Lui asked. “You need money?”
I shook my head. “A lawyer, then? Somebody to represent you?”
“I don’t need a lawyer, and I don’t need any money. I do need something, though.”
I told him what I thought had happened to Evan Gonsalves. “I need a confession out of this. I’m going to try and get one out of Wayne Gallagher tomorrow night. But I need a wire, and I can’t go to the police because I’m suspended, and I’m supposed to stay out of this case, and besides, Lieutenant Yumuri would never believe me.”
“We might have some of the equipment at the station.”
“Here’s the list Harry gave me,” I said. “He can put it all together.”
Lui looked at the list. I expected he’d have to pass it on to one of his technicians, but he said, “We have this, and this, and this, three of these, I can get you the wire, okay. We have all of this. But where are you going to put it? You’ll need some kind of panel truck.” Before I could speak he said, “I can’t lend you one of the station’s trucks. They’re too visible.” He thought for a minute. “You can use one of Haoa’s trucks. I’ll call him and work it out.”
“Haoa may not want to get into this. He doesn’t exactly approve of what’s going on with me at the moment.”
“Haoa will do what I tell him to do,” Lui said. I looked at him. “He’s your brother, too, Kimo. He’ll want to help you.”
“If you say so.”
“Give me Harry’s phone number. I’ll call him when I have everything together.”
I gave him Harry’s phone and cell numbers and then said, “I appreciate this, Lui. I don’t quite know how it happened, but all of a sudden I’m dragging more and more people into my problems.”
“We’re your family,” he said. “That’s what we’re here for.”
Reaching Out
When I walked up the alley behind the Rod and Reel Club, I saw Wayne’s black Jeep Cherokee parked in front of th
e door. Arleen was sitting at her desk, talking to her mother. In Japanese, she said, “The policeman is back, the cute one.”
In Japanese, I said, “Tell your mother I said hello,” and she turned red.
“You never said you could speak Japanese!” she said, in English.
“You never asked.”
“Mom, I gotta go. I’ll call you later,” she said into the phone. She looked up again. “So how can I help you, detective?”
“I’m here to see Derek. But first I wanted to ask you a couple of questions, really just follow-up.”
“Okay.”
“You may know, we’ve got a handle on the man we think killed Mr. Pang,” I said. “Last Thursday, he killed himself.”
“I heard. My mother called in the afternoon to say she saw it on TV.”
“I’ll bet Derek was happy we found the guy.”
“He wasn’t even here. He was in Thursday morning, and then your partner came by, and, like, right after he left Derek left, too, and he didn’t come back all day.” She made a sour face. “He and Wayne are just like Mr. Pang. They come and go and they never tell me if they’re coming back or not. I’m accustomed to it, but I guess I thought things were going to change.”
Wayne came out of the manager’s office then. “I thought I heard your voice. What brings you to our lovely office?”
“I’m here to see Derek.”
Arleen stood up. “I’m just running out to get Brandon,” she said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She grabbed her pocketbook and walked out, leaving me alone with Wayne in the reception area. The door to Tommy’s office was closed; I assumed Derek was in there.
Wayne stepped up behind me. He put his hand on my ass and I jumped. “You like that?” he whispered wetly into my ear.
I didn’t say anything, but I did push back a little against his hand. Then the door to Tommy’s office opened, and Wayne faded away behind me.
“Come in,” Derek said. I walked into his office and took the seat he motioned to. “Is this about my father?”
“In a way. Did your father ever tell you how it was he came to Hawai’i?”
“I fail to see how this is related to his murder.”
“It’s not,” I said. “This is personal. About him and about you.”
He looked confused but decided to go along. “I was born in Hong Kong, but we moved here when I was about three. Later on, when I asked my father, he said someone he knew in China had arranged it all for us.”
“Did you ever meet that person, the one who arranged things for you?”
“Once. An old man, Mr. Chin. I think I told you, he’s the only one of my father’s business associates I ever met.”
“Actually he was more than your father’s business associate,” I said. “He’s your grandfather.”
“My what? My father was an orphan, raised by distant cousins. He had no close relatives.”
“I can only tell you what I’ve been told,” I said. “Chin Suk is an old friend of my family. He approached me because he knew I had met you, through investigating your father’s death.” I paused, to let that part sink in. “According to Uncle Chin—at least, that’s what I call him—your father was born to a woman he’d had an affair with. He left the town before your father was born, and made his way to Hawai’i. He was a young man and the fact that he’d left a child behind didn’t much matter to him. As he got older, though, his attitude changed. He had a son here who died, and that’s when he tracked your father down and brought him and your family here.”
“Why didn’t he get in touch with me sooner? Why wait so long?”
“I believe he was actually in contact with your father, at least occasionally. Your mother may be able to verify that, but maybe not. Now that your father is dead, Uncle Chin would like to continue the relationship with you.”
“And you’re the matchmaker?” he asked.
I nodded. “Like I said, he’s an old friend of my family, probably my father’s best friend. He was embarrassed to come see you himself.”
“He ought to be.” Derek thought for a minute. “This old man, is he rich? Powerful?”
“I haven’t seen his bankbook. But he seems to live well.”
“Other children?”
“None.”
He stroked his chin. “So I might stand to inherit something.”
I stood up. “I can see I read you wrong. I thought maybe the loss of your father might motivate you to seek a connection with somebody else, with your grandfather. Uncle Chin is a good man, and I don’t want to see him hurt.”
“Hold on, hold on,” Derek said petulantly. “How can you deny an old man’s wish to know his grandson? We Chinese value family highly, you know. Why don’t you give me his phone number and I’ll give him a call?”
I thought that was probably the first time Derek Pang had used “we” and “Chinese” in the same sentence. “I’ll tell him about our meeting and he can decide if he wants to contact you,” I said. “And anyway, you know his name, you’ve met him before. If you really want to talk to him you can track him down.”
I turned and walked out, bumping right into Wayne Gallagher in the reception area. His hand immediately reached for my crotch, and I felt myself stiffen in his grasp. “I know what you like,” Wayne whispered into my ear.
I smiled at him and managed to pull away. “See you soon, Detective,” he called as I walked back toward the front door.
As I walked back to my apartment, I wondered what I’d expected. I’d already decided Derek was a shit and that he might have murdered Evan Gonsalves; why did I think he’d react differently to news of Uncle Chin?
By the time I got home it was almost four and I decided to go surfing for a while. After all, I might as well take advantage of this enforced leisure time, with pay. After my suspension hearing, I might be just another washed-up cop looking for security work. Maybe I’d stop by the Rod and Reel and see Gunter, see if they needed extra guards at the condo where he worked. There might be fringe benefits, if we worked the same shift.
It was overcast and blustery, but still warm. The palm trees along Kalakaua Avenue bent in the wind, and thick clouds clustered over the tops of the rocky Ko‘olau Mountains. A piece of newspaper rolled over and over down the brick pavement, past the games tables, where two elderly Chinese men huddled over a game of chess. The beach was sparsely populated, just the occasional tourist on hotel towels, struggling to get a tan before going back to the mainland.
I took my big board with me and dragged it out into the surf past the orange lifeguard station, where there were flags posted warning against the heavy wind. The surf was cresting at four to six feet, high for Waikiki, and I plunged into the water with enthusiasm. At least, I thought, as I ducked and paddled my way through the breakers, I was getting some good surfing in, at the North Shore, at Makapu’u Point, and now here.
I forgot everything that waited for me back on shore and concentrated on the waves, and it was, as always, a magnificent release. Every time I thought of Wayne Gallagher’s hand on my butt, or Derek’s greediness, or all the dead or the living people I’d hurt, I willed myself into focusing on the surf.
The rough water gave me a beating, knocking me down over and over, but the struggle was exhilarating. By the time I was finished I ached in a dozen places, but they were good aches, the result of pushing myself to my limits. I finally gave up and dragged my board through the surf and up over the sand. As I was waiting for the light to change so I could cross Kalakaua, I looked Ewa and saw Akoni coming towards me.
“Hey, brah,” I said as he approached. “Am I allowed to talk to you in public?”
“It’s okay. I’m on a mission from Yumuri. You free for happy hour?”
“Give me a chance to shower and change,” I said. “What’s up?”
“I’ll tell you at the Canoe Club, all right?”
“Sure.” He turned back to the station and I crossed Kalakaua. I wondered what was up, but couldn’t figure it
out. I took a quick shower and pulled on a pair of jeans and a polo shirt, and walked over to the Canoe Club, where I found Akoni at the bar, sipping slowly on a draft beer.
I stepped up next to him, ordered a draft for myself, and said, “So what’s up?”
He nodded toward the outdoor patio. “We’ll get a table.”
“Not at happy hour,” I said, as the bartender slid my beer across the bar and I dropped a couple of singles on the wood. “Look around.”
Inside the bar was crowded, but outside you could hardly move. We struggled through the crowd on the porch, and went down the stairs to the beach level. Businessmen in aloha shirts talked in small clusters, some smoking cigarettes, a few with fat cigars. Yuppies in polo shirts cracked wise with each other and made eyes at their female counterparts, sizing up opportunities for later in the evening. Small clusters of office friends sat at the tables comparing war stories or gossiping about absent coworkers.
Akoni led the way down toward the beach, and the farther we got from the lights and music the less crowded it was. Finally we found a sheltered spot and pulled two lounge chairs together. “So what gives?” I asked as we sat down.
“We had a meeting today,” he said. “Preliminary for your hearing. Me, Yumuri, Hiram Lin, and your girlfriend from the Prosecuting Attorney’s office.”
“I’m not sure she’s exactly my girlfriend anymore.”
“We went over every line in the file on Tommy Pang’s murder and Evan Gonsalves’s suicide,” he said. Akoni smiled at me. “They didn’t find a single thing wrong beyond your first mistake.”
“Not calling the body in under my shield number?”
He nodded. “And even Yumuri had to concede that wasn’t a big deal.”
“So?”
“So the ADA wouldn’t accept it. She kept saying there had to be something else in the file we could hang you on.”
“I haven’t treated her very well,” I said. “I should have called her from the very start and told her what was going on. But I wasn’t sure myself for a long time.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one who called the media on you. Just something she said. She mixed it up pretty good with old Hiram, too. I was surprised to see the guy had a backbone. He told her it was his mission to root out bad cops. You believe that, his mission? But he also said it was his mission to protect the good ones. And as far as he could see, you were a good one.”
Mahu Box Set Page 27