by B K Johnson
With a sigh, she broke herself from her reverie, casually rolled over on top of Rod and said, “Thank you, thank you. I really did need that.”
Rod grabbed her head and pulled her mouth to his for another languid kiss. “You don’t ever have to thank me, sweetheart,” he murmured. “The pleasure was absolutely all mine.” Both of them got up and put their clothes back on.
Rod had thoughtfully brought a picnic of Kentucky Fried Chicken, cole slaw and root beer. With their sexual appetites appeased, their hunger for food took precedence. As soon as they finished eating, they cleaned up and washed off, and Rod untied the boat. The rest of their afternoon sped by in a glorious sail, with both of them laughing and telling each other stories of their last few months. Tommy couldn’t remember a happier, freer time. It was idyllic. “This was all the therapy I needed,” she mused. When Rod at last dropped her off at home, Tommy went upstairs and dropped on her bed. She looked at the clock on her nightstand and saw it was only 7 p.m. That was her last conscious thought as she drifted into a most pleasant dream.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Doer was lying low in the Kailua home after the excursion into the Korean Bar. Hordes of Hawaii police scoured Oahu, searching for whoever had so blatantly killed a district attorney in full view of Kiki’s customers. Long, thick black hair, while usually an asset, was likely to be one of the search criteria. So the Doer took to wearing one long Indian-style braid.
It gave the Doer an entirely new look, and looking quite a bit younger would be helpful to the camouflage. Next, off on a shopping spree to indulge in a new wardrobe to go with the new look. Youthful and bright were the top priorities. The Doer actually felt quite a bit freer than usual from demons and enjoyed having nothing pressing to accomplish in the next few months. That’s why the dream was such a surprise.
In sleep, the Doer was transported to the Koolau youth facility, which is where Kekoa was sent to serve a year’s sentence. He had beat up some boys pretty badly, breaking the nose of one and the arm of another. They had called him a mahu, the Hawaiian term for gay, and he took such grave offense that if the school counselor had not pulled him off of the boy with the broken arm, it was argued he would have beat him to death.
At least, that was the argument Larry Young propounded while prosecuting Kekoa in the juvenile court. Maile had hired Julie Olson to defend Kekoa, and sold off her 401k assets in order to pay for the retainer. From all accounts, Julie’s defense of Kekoa, while adequate, lacked truth, at least in the Doer’s mind. Julie had represented to Judge Hisao Yamamoto, who was presiding over the case, that Kekoa actually was gay, and that is why he responded so fiercely. He just wasn’t ready to come out of the closet yet, Julie’d argued. This approach angered the Doer so dramatically that letter after letter was written to anyone who would listen that this son had been slandered.
Tommy was Kekoa’s guardian ad litem, and from all reports, including Kekoa’s to the Court, Tommy was a staunch advocate for him. Kekoa’s greatest praise for Tommy was that she truly listened to him, no matter what he had to say, and didn’t judge him. She just wanted to assure him that he would be represented however he chose, and that he could tell her anything in confidence. That is why, when he confessed somewhat ashamedly to Tommy that he really did think he was gay, and that he had a gay lover, she never breathed a word of it to anyone. She’d smiled at Kekoa and said “It is your life, Sweetheart. You are entitled to live it.”
Only the Doer presumed it was Tommy who backed up Julie’s stamp of homosexuality on Kekoa. After sentence was imposed, Tommy continued to visit Kekoa at the youth facility every week, and to make sure he was being protected as well as could be expected. The youth facility was notoriously old and understaffed, and there were any number of beatings and reports of drug usage. Willi Akau was the guard assigned during the night to Kekoa’s floor, and Tommy found him to be compassionate and diligent in protecting Kekoa.
One evening the facility admitted Leleo Opau as a visitor to Kekoa’s room during regular visiting hours. Leleo headed the hula halau where both the Doer, and later, Kekoa, were featured dancers. Both Leleo and the Doer loved to watch Kekoa dance. He was masculine in every way, from his muscular shoulders and chest and flat stomach, to his strong thighs and calves. His skin was bronze and his facial features were the finest melding of Japanese, Hawaiian and Filipino Leleo had ever seen. He’d started dancing when he was 10 years old, and by the time he was 12, danced parts usually assigned to those 16 and older. He traveled when he was out of school with the halau and his performances were always well received by the ladies attending in whatever country they toured. He flirted shamelessly with them all, young and old. This, more than just a staunch desire that it be true, convinced the Doer that any hint of homosexuality on Kekoa’s part was inaccurate and such a characterization despicable.
Everyone acknowledged that Leleo was gay, but he was very open about it and no one held it against him. He was very careful not to force himself on any man, and was a gentle soul whose passion was dance. His hands, hips, face and feet were fluid and faithful interpreters of Hawaiian music. He had won more awards at the Merry Monarch festival on the Big Island than three of his top competitors together by the time he was 21. Opening his own halau was the dream he realized when he turned 22. Several years later he was training Kekoa to be his lead dancer upon his graduation from high school, and was shocked and appalled when Kekoa was arrested for the brutal assault on two of his classmates. In Leleo’s opinion, it was not at all disparaging to be called a mahu, and he couldn’t understand why Kekoa took such offense. He argued vehemently, but not persuasively, with Kekoa that he had to acknowledge his sexuality.
Within two hours of Leleo’s heated and dramatic conversation with Kekoa, Willi was on his rounds of the facility, and happened to look into Kekoa’s room. The boy was hanging from the steel bar erected over the window. He had torn his sheets from his bed, ripped them into lengths, and knotted them into a noose. Willi ran into the room and cut Kekoa down, dialing for security and the medics on his pager. Although it looked to Willi like Kekoa had been dead for some time, he began performing CPR on Kekoa for several minutes, all in vain.
When the first paramedic arrived, he had to pull Willi from Kekoa’s body, and told him, “Man, it’s just too late. He’s gone, Willi.”
Willi began sobbing and kept repeating, “He’s only 17 years old and he did this on my watch.” The medic administered a sedative to Willi and asked one of the nurses on duty to take him to the library to let him rest awhile.
In the Doer’s nightmare, Kekoa the son was calling out: “Come help me. They think I’m gay and I’m not.” For a deep, primeval reason it made a smile curve around the Doer’s face, while at the same time running breathlessly to Kekoa to protect him from that vile man, Willi Akau. He was stringing Kekoa up on a sheet in his room, trying to make it look like suicide. “He didn’t like Kekoa and has had it in for him for months,” the Doer shouted in the dream, getting there in time to fire a shotgun into Willi’s face, cutting Kekoa down and saving his life. Kekoa held her tight and kept repeating, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, my son,” wept the Doer, stroking his hair.
With a start, the Doer awoke from the nightmare, pathetically aware of the reality. This beautiful and gifted son had been taken 11 years before, through no fault of his own. The Doer had no trouble believing that everyone involved in the prosecution and murder of Kekoa was corrupt and hateful, having missed Kekoa’s death due to being on tour. Only able to come home for two days for his memorial service at the beach, the Doer threw the first lei overboard while others paddled the canoe out to the middle of Lanikai Bay. Maile reverently shook Kekoa’s ashes into the sea.
Still in shock, but committed to the tour, the Doer returned to Australia to complete the tour. After the return to Hawaii, the next few years were spent in a psychiatric facility where they treated a severe and chronic depression. It had resulted in numerous psychotic epis
odes. The Doer’s mood swings were so spiky the doctors thought at first that the diagnosis manic-depressive, and prescribed Lithium. That ended with a trip to the emergency room, and after blood tests showed a substantial excess of Lithium, the erroneous diagnosis was ruled out. The only ones to visit were Maile and Leleo, when he was on the island. The Doer felt no blame, just extreme rage at all of the other people who played a part in Kekoa’s death. This was well-hidden during the visits.
To that end, the Doer began to work on recovery, knowing deep inside the soul that Kekoa would never rest peacefully until he was avenged. The Doer could not even begin to avenge him without knowing the names and faces and locations of all of the perpetrators of his demise. The next few years’ social security disability, received as a result of the underlying psychiatric conditions, was enough income to live at home with Maile and conduct meticulous research. The Doer would cause the life in every one of those faces to dim, having no doubt that they would all meet again in Hell.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tommy awoke feeling fully refreshed from her orgasmic excursion with Rod, and a full good night’s sleep without any nightmares. She showered, threw on her jogging suit and enjoyed a short run. Even though she really didn’t feel like returning to her office on Sunday to pour over her work, she knew she couldn’t put off the Gage case any longer. When she at last sat down at her desk, with a caramel macchiato for company, Tommy was anxious to return phone calls and do some more research. Her first phone call was to Jimmy Cochran, an old friend who’d spent 18 years on the San Francisco Police force.
Jimmy was one of the few officers who knew Tommy from court appearances, and respected her ethics and determination to give her client’s aggressive, but honorable, representation. When she was first charged with the murder of her little girl, he rose to her defense immediately. He knew there was no way that Tommy would have taken the life of her own child. After the investigation was dropped, and Cecilia’s death had been ruled due to SUIDS, Tommy gratefully thanked Jimmy for his unflagging support. Their friendship grew even stronger over the last few years, due to Jimmy’s leaving the police department and going into private security.
Jimmy’s expertise was electronic surveillance. His company had invested a small fortune in only the best equipment, which was undetectable by even the experienced searcher. He often placed bugs in offices and hotels to capture evidence of wrongdoing by employees and/or others. Tommy was reluctant to ask Jimmy to plant a video camera and recorder in the Gage mansion, but Geoffrey had not only given her the green light, he had advanced $2000 for Jimmy to do just that. Geoff gave Tommy the key to his garage and expected Jimmy to place the equipment within the next week to gather indisputable proof of Samantha’s extracurricular activities.
Geoff planned a three-day trip to Los Angeles, and knew that Samantha would not be able to resist taking advantage of his absence to continue her illicit affair. Tommy hated the idea of having to review the tapes after the fact and put a synopsis of them into her report for use in court. She was well aware Geoff’s intent was to discredit Samantha if it came to a divorce and bolster her violation of the prenuptial agreement. This would mean Tommy would have to testify in order to offer the video into evidence. It seemed really sleazy to her, but it was what she had been employed, and requested, to accomplish.
When Jimmy answered his cell on the third ring, his baritone voice resonating over the connection, Tommy conjured up his image. An inch short of 6 feet, lanky and thin, with bright blue eyes, an Irish complexion and gift of the blarney, Jimmy had been a favorite of the media when he was with the SFPD. Now that he was privately employed in a rather clandestine operation, he missed the challenge of fielding reporters’ questions. He was overjoyed to hear from Tommy, and readily agreed to take on the task of entering the Gage home unnoticed and planting the devices. Jimmy was also pretty thrilled about getting $2000 for such an easy job, with no surreptitious breaking and entering required. He didn’t think there was anything sleazy about the task at all, since he voiced his opinion that Samantha was the one who was necessitating the surveillance by her own conduct. His attitude helped bolster Tommy’s decision to take this extreme action, and made her feel quite a bit better about invading Samantha’s privacy. They made arrangements for Jimmy to pick up the key on Monday. Tommy also invited Jimmy to dinner at El Torero for great Mexican cuisine when he completed this job. Jimmy thankfully accepted, being notorious for his ability to eat twice his weight in tacos, refried beans and rice, without any of it showing up on his enviably lean body.
When she concluded her call with Jimmy, Tommy returned all of the other messages on her machine. A few of them were to set appointments with prospective clients. The majority were to update her ongoing clientele on the status of their respective investigations. Most of these cases were background investigations for employers and locating people for service of subpoenas. It was pretty routine and boring work, nothing exciting like cross-examining hostile witnesses at trial, which had been Tommy’s very favorite thing to do when she practiced law. Still, it was the bread and butter of her business, and it was the retainers for these activities that paid the rent and utilities.
Sundays were usually her days to tend to the phone calls, since most people who used her services did not want her to contact them at work, for obvious reasons. Her call to Geoff to assure him that Jimmy was on board was the last call she made. He was thrilled to know that he could look forward to accumulating the proof he would need to confront Samantha upon his return from L.A. Tommy cautioned him about doing this, and suggested instead that he just deliver the goods to his attorney.
The last thing Tommy wanted was for the situation to escalate out of control and into a domestic violence matter. She had seen too many instances of that occurring when parties chose to throw dirt in the faces of their mates. Geoff agreed to follow Tommy’s sound advice, telling her that he really didn’t want to force the divorce issue. He was pretty sure Samantha was just being used, and iterated again to Tommy that he really loved Samantha and didn’t want to seek the end to his marriage.
The business of the day concluded, Tommy called Trish to see what she was up to. Luckily, Trish and Nadine were together and shopping at the Sun Valley mall. They immediately encouraged Tommy to join them. Tommy was not a shopper. She really hated trying on clothes, and wasn’t into just strolling along looking into windows of the various stores. Still, these were her special friends, that is what they wanted to do, and they wanted her to do it with them.
Masking her sigh, Tommy agreed to get in her car and join them at Macy’s in the women’s sports department. Trish was apparently trying on all manner of clothing and Nadine was acting as her consultant. They figured they would be there at least another hour, and Tommy would have no trouble getting there and finding them within that space of time. Tommy knew she should change, but was getting excited at the prospect of joining her besties. So she just grabbed her purse and set out. When she arrived at Macy’s just half an hour later, she found Trish fuming at the cash register.
“What’s going on,” she asked Nadine, who was demurely standing behind Trish.
“Oh, Trish found this adorable swimsuit, and the price was marked down from $150 to $75. She scooped it up and brought it here to purchase, only to be told that the tag was incorrect and the suit was still $150. She’s been arguing with that salesclerk for the last fifteen minutes. Help her, please.”
Tommy brusquely approached the saleslady and demanded that she call for the manager. While waiting, Tommy inspected the sales tag. The manager appeared shortly thereafter. Ms. Staunton, as her nametag pronounced, was an extremely tall, skinny brunette. Tommy pointed at the tag still affixed to the suit and used her well-honed legal and verbal skills to remind Ms. Staunton that false advertising could not only be litigated in a civil court, but if found to be deliberately fraudulent was a prosecutable offense. And that tagging an outfit with one price while charging another was not bound to garner
the department store any favorable publicity if Trish contacted the media. It wasn’t so much Tommy’s words, but her officious and deliberate demeanor that convinced Ms. Staunton she might actually be charged with a crime or cause the store tremendous embarrassment.
She immediately began making conciliatory remarks to Trish, begging her forgiveness, and taking the suit from the salesclerk to enter the sale at $75 herself. Nadine, bless her, kept her guffaws to herself until they left the store. Then, she burst into obscene laughter, hugging Tommy vociferously and praising her for coming so successfully to Trish’s aid.
“It’s not that I can’t afford the $150,” chuckled Trish. “I just knew you would come and make them eat crow for daring to pull a fast one. Now I can use the $75 I saved and take you two to lunch.”
The three BFFs gaily held hands and took off in the direction of the nearest restaurant in the mall.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next few days went by very quickly. Tommy wrapped up two of the skip trace cases she had, and received her commission from the institutions who hired her. She got a new case on Tuesday, which involved the search for a hit and run driver who had killed a little girl in front of her home. Brandolyn Brown had been riding her tricycle on the sidewalk and the car, which was traveling too fast, jumped the curb and struck her. The only witness was the little girl’s nine-year-old brother, Jeremiah. He said the car that hit her was an older green Chevrolet and that when it hit her it didn’t even stop but just sped up and drove away. He blamed himself for not being able to stop the car, or save his sister. He had run to her aid as fast as his little legs would carry him, but there was nothing he could do. Brandolyn had died instantly.
