by Kay Hadashi
Not finding Clara anywhere in the house, Gina started a search outside. On her second lap around the house, she found her at the picnic table. She was no expert on Filipina behaviors, but there was no hiding the fact that the pregnant girl was upset about something. What she didn’t need that day was getting involved in someone else’s soap opera, especially a pregnant stranger. When Clara spotted her, she waved Gina over to sit with her.
Unable to escape, Gina took a seat across the table from the crew’s unofficial chef. Getting a close look at her face in the daylight for the first time, Clara looked as though she was still a teenager. “Everything okay?”
Clara started with Filipino, but changed to English. “What happened to that man?”
So that’s what the girl was so heartbroken about. There had been a couple of times when Gina had had to break bad news to families as a police officer, and had never been comfortable with it. “Unfortunately, he died this morning.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure, but maybe he’d been homeless for too long and his body just gave out on him. That happens sometimes.”
“How do you know he was homeless?” Clara asked.
“The way he was dressed, kinda grubby, his breath, nothing of value in his pockets.”
“He didn’t have any money?”
“There was nothing in his wallet other than an old picture of someone. Honestly, I’m not sure why he kept the wallet.”
“Who was the picture of?” Clara asked.
Gina shrugged. “A lady and her kid.”
Clara looked away for a moment, seeming to think about something. “What did you mean his body looked like it gave out on him? Not enough to eat?”
“Maybe. Or just not enough nutritious food to eat. Have you seen a body before?”
Clara nodded her head. “Once.”
Gina saw the tension on the girl’s face. If she went any further in asking questions, she’d need to proceed carefully. “Who was that?”
“My mother.”
“Oh. Sorry to bring it up.”
Clara shook her head slightly. “It was a long time ago. I was just a kid then.”
“Pretty tough thing to see, for any of us.” Gina was curious about the details of Clara’s mother’s death, but didn’t want to open that can of worms. “I’ll never forget the first time I saw one. My sister and I were visiting relatives in New York with our mother. I was in high school, and Ana was still in junior high. We went for a walk one day, and there was a big commotion at the far end of the block. While we walked there to see what was going on, a car went speeding past us in the other direction, at least until some taxis got in its way.”
“What happened?” Clara asked.
“A crowd was already there, people were talking about someone getting shot, and Ana and I pushed through to see a dead guy on the ground with blood on his shirt. All we could figure was that the guy in the car had shot the guy on the sidewalk. When the police showed up, the guy in the car was long gone, and they told us to get lost.”
“That must’ve been terrible.”
“It was. But that was the day when both Ana and I decided…well, Ana knew she wanted to be a cop just like our dad when she grew up. But you know what we also learned that day?”
Clara shook her head.
“I think we were blessed to learn one of life’s biggest secrets. Even though that poor fellow didn’t survive, we did. We were given another day, and another, and another after that. That’s always been the important thing to remember, that we’re lucky enough to have all these days, and that we need to do something with them.”
“Like, what can I do? I’m pregnant.”
“Pretty soon, you’ll be a mother, and from what I’ve seen, that’s one of the biggest jobs someone can have. Anyway, aren’t you the one responsible for fixing us a lunch right about now?”
“Oh, yeah! I completely forgot!”
Gina stood and helped Clara up to her feet. “Come on. I’ll give you a hand. Let’s get these guys fed before they start a hunger riot.”
***
After a lunch of cheese sandwiches and lemonade, Gina took over the job of labeling plants that needed to be salvaged with green tape, and labeling plants that could be removed with orange tape in the area of the pond and Japanese garden. Once that was done, she had Felix go through and double check what she had labeled, that she wasn’t getting rid of a family heirloom plants or a precious bonsai that had become overgrown.
“Okay, I’ve never worked with a Japanese garden before,” she told Felix. He’d been working in the house most of the day, nailing up wood paneling on walls. “I’m not exactly sure what’s supposed to be an ornamental tree and which are just overgrown weeds.”
“I don’t know nothing about them, either,” he said, while swigging water from a bottle.
“Doesn’t help me much, Felix.”
“Maybe you should label everything that isn’t a weed, and figure out the rest later. Once everything has been cleared to the ground, it’ll be easier to see what’s left.”
“Are there any Japanese gardens in town I can visit?”
“In Honolulu? Lots of them!” He pointed off at the far corner of the property next to the stream. “One right over there. I think that one and the old estate one used to be all one big garden. But the university gardeners maintain theirs.”
“Should I match what they’ve done?”
“Might be a good idea. I wouldn’t put Flor on that job, though.”
“Why?” she asked.
“He’s a farmer. Everything needs to be pruned to make fruit. If it doesn’t make fruit, it’s a weed and gets chopped out.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. Is there anybody else that might be able to help me with the Japanese garden?”
Felix shook his head. “They’re farmers. If it doesn’t make food…”
“It gets pulled out like a weed?” she asked, finishing his sentence.
“You’re a fast learner, Boss.”
“I hope so. Hey, is there any way that you guys could call me Gina instead of Boss?”
He smiled again. “No.”
Eventually, one by one, her crew returned to the trucks and cars, stowing their tools in the back. Clara left the house and met with Flor and Florinda, her ride home. Gina waved as the last of them left across the bridge.
One of the tools Felix and Flor had brought back from their buying spree at the hardware store was a gas-powered industrial-sized weed whacker, and with it a can of fuel. Using a weed whacker had been one of Gina’s favorite things to learn in the last year or so. Firing it up, she went to one side of the house and started chopping down weeds.
Half an hour later, she got from the back door to near the front porch. Taking her finger off the trigger, she looked at her progress. Already the place was looking more lived in.
“Gonna have to figure out what to do with all those weeds.”
It was late afternoon by the time she was done with the one side of the house, and she went in for a drink of water. Going through the living room, she saw something on the folded painter’s tarp in the corner of the room.
“What are you doing in here?” Gina stomped her feet on the floor as she walked toward the cat that had been licking its fur. Clapping her hands finally got the cat up and on its feet. Gina pointed toward the front door. “Go on, git!”
Gina stepped back quickly while watching the black cat trot out of the house. Once it was gone, she latched the front screen door.
“Just what I need, a black cat as a roommate.”
After her water, Gina finished weed whacking the other side of the house, right up to the front porch. In a way, it felt good to chop down the grass. It was almost as if she was cleaning up the mess of the dead body she’d found earlier that day. But the second half of her project still needed to be handled. That meant a lot of shoulder work in the sun raking grass and weeds into piles.
Gina made small mounds here and there, just
big enough to heap into a rickety old wheelbarrow she found in a shed at the back of the house. She took that out to the middle of the field where the old vegetable garden had been and made one large haystack.
Flinging the last few handfuls of grass into the wheelbarrow, her hand found something hard. It wasn’t a rock, but something shiny and metallic that fell through and clunked to the bottom of the pan. Picking it from the grass, she found a wristwatch.
“This is new,” she said, picking away bits of chopped grass. She looked at the brand on the face. “Rolex?”
She looked more closely, and sure enough, the letters spelled out the famous brand of expensive watches. There were no scratches on it, not even dirt or grime. The clasp, however, didn’t seem to latch properly.
“This would’ve been right next to the porch, but I never noticed it before.”
The weight of it was heavy in her hand. The second hand continued to tick around in a circle. She looked at the back of it for any sort of markings or engraving. There was none, except for the usual corporate logo and serial number.
“Who drops a Rolex and doesn’t bother to look for it?”
She tried to remember seeing watches on the wrists of any of her crew that day, someone that might’ve snagged the watch on a tool, breaking the clasp, and not noticing when it slipped from their wrist and dropped to the ground.
“Except that minimum wage workers don’t wear Rolexes.”
She looked at the steps up to the porch and then back toward the bridge. She found it right where someone would’ve walked from the bridge to the house, but not near where her crew parked their cars and pickups. The only other people around there had been the CSI technicians who’d come to search the area, and the morgue drivers that collected the body.
“I doubt CSI techs wear Rolexes. Not on the job, anyway.”
She rubbed her thumb over the crystal, bringing up the shine. The more she looked at it, the more questions it gave her than answers.
“Something funny about this thing.”
She put it on her wrist and tried clasping the band. Even though it didn’t work quite right, it was obvious the watch had fit a man’s wrist, not a woman’s.
After slipping the watch into a pocket, Gina dug into the grass she’d already picked up, searching for anything else that might be hidden or overlooked. Once it had been pawed through, she figured only the Rolex had been lost.
As much as she didn’t like the idea, she got out the business card Detective Kona had given her and called.
“A Rolex?” he asked, once she’d explained twice why she’d called.
“Very nice looking one, also.”
“You think it has something to do with the body you found this morning?”
“It’s so clean, it obviously hasn’t been out in the weather or in the dirt for very long, if at all. And I found it right near the porch. What should I do with it?”
“Hock it at the nearest pawn shop. Whatever you do, don’t tell them your real name. Grab whatever money they offer and run.”
“You’re kidding, right?” she asked.
“Not entirely. I tell you what I’ll do. I’m almost off work. I’ll drop buy in a few minutes and take a look at what you got. Okay?”
While she waited, she took a few pictures of the watch from various angles. Half an hour later, a vehicle came across the bridge. It was Detective Kona’s blue sedan. He parked next to the house and Gina met him there.
“Detective Kona, I wasn’t expecting to see you again. Thanks for coming by.”
“I was hoping not to come back, Miss Santoro. Show me what you have.”
She held out the wristwatch to him. Using his pencil, he hooked it and took a close look without handling it. “Men’s Rolex. Like you said, it looks new. It’s not dirty or scuffed. Where’d you find it?”
“Here.” Gina pointed to the spot where she’d stopped raking grass. The rake was there, leaning against the bamboo porch railing. “You can see where I stopped raking. That’s where the watch was. At first, I didn’t recognize it as a watch, but just some shiny piece of metal. I picked it up to toss out of the way, but once I had it in my hand, I noticed it was a watch.”
“You’ve handled it?”
“Yes.”
“Then what did you do with it after you picked it up?” he asked.
“Sorry, but I wiped off grass clippings and dirt. I doubt you’ll find any fingerprints on it other than mine.”
“Why is that important?” he asked.
“I don’t know. To see if it belonged to the dead man?”
“If his prints were on it, that would mean it belonged to him?” Detective Kona asked.
“Wouldn’t it?”
“Unless he stole it from someone else. Tell me again about finding it.”
Gina went through her weed whacker and raking story again. “When I saw it was a watch, and that it looked new, I was surprised. I figured one of my crew might’ve lost it while working. Then I noticed it the brand, and figured it couldn’t be from one of them. Then I wondered if it had belonged to one of your CSI techs. Crossing them off the list, I figured it might’ve been the dead man’s.”
“Why not one of your crew?” he asked.
“They’re laborers that work for minimum wage. That watch probably costs more than what any one of them might earn in a year.”
“Not like the county pays CSI techs enough to afford Rolexes,” Detective Kona said.
“That’s why I crossed them off my list of possible owners. Not many ordinary working joes can afford a Rolex.”
“If it’s authentic. Even the fakes are expensive.”
“That’s something else I’ve been wondering,” Gina said. “If someone lost a real Rolex, they’d be in a panic, right? So, why hasn’t someone been around looking for it? If it belonged to one of my workers, or one of your CSI techs, they’d be back here looking for it, right? But they’re not. That’s what makes me think it came from the dead man.”
“You’re an honest woman, Miss Santoro.”
“Why do you say that?”
“If someone else had found this under similar circumstances, it would’ve been listed at eBay by now.”
“Maybe. But I just don’t feel right about keeping something that belongs to someone else, even if he’s dead.”
Detective Kona dropped the watch into a small evidence bag. “Just to verify, none of your crew said anything about losing their watch?”
Here came the redundant questions of a police interview, she thought. “I would think that if they had, they would’ve freaked out and the entire crew would’ve looked for it. I’m pretty convinced it didn’t belong to one of them. Anyway, who would wear a Rolex to work in a garden?”
“Reasonable conclusion.” Detective Kona made a call summoning a CSI team to come to the estate.
“Why are they coming back?” Gina asked.
“First, to ask if they lost a watch when they were here earlier. Then to search for anything else that might’ve been dropped or lost.”
“It’s almost dark. You don’t want to wait until tomorrow morning?”
“I think you know from your training that the sooner a scene is investigated, the more reliable the evidence. Mostly, I just want them to sweep the area with metal detectors. It shouldn’t be long.”
“Okay if I go in and make my dinner?” she asked.
“Not yet. I have a few more questions for you.”
“I’ve told you everything I know about the watch, Detective.”
“My questions aren’t about the watch. When I had a few minutes, I checked into your background. Apparently, when you were with Cleveland PD, you never completed your field training before quitting the force? What’s that about?”
Gina felt embarrassed, especially since she’d been acting like an expert with the investigation into the dead body. Her little secret that she’d hoped she had left behind had been exposed. She kicked a pebble.
“Yeah, I’m a quitt
er.”
“I’m not looking for self-judgment. I’m just interested in what happened.”
“Why?”
“You’re my prime witness in the investigation into the discovery of a dead body. I need to know if you’re going to remain a witness or go onto my suspect list. And I need to tell you that list still has no names on it.”
“Why are you growing a suspect list? Do you think foul play was involved in his death?”
“Nice try, but I’m not going to let you sidetrack my earlier question. Mind telling me why you never made it out of field training? Or should I request your service record from Cleveland PD?”
Gina wondered for a moment if he was actually able to do that. She took a deep breath and started.
“I was involved in a shooting. No one was hurt, and the shooting review board found no blame, but while I had the mandatory administrative week off, I gave my career a lot of thought. There wasn’t much of a decision to make, which was to walk away and find something else to do for a living. That’s when I went back to school in landscape horticulture. That happened three years ago, and now here I am, starting my new occupation with a dead body on the first day of work.”
“That happens sometimes. Why not complete your field training and ease your way back into work? Or simply make an adjustment in your career and become a CSI technician? The pay is about the same and you wouldn’t have to deal with perps nearly as much.”
“I also decided to never pick up a gun again. I wanted nothing to do with police work. I’d learned the hard way how easy it is to get in trouble with a sidearm.”
“Who was almost shot?” Detective Kona asked.
Gina wanted a cigarette to calm her nerves, a habit that wasn’t necessarily broken yet. “Father Romano. He’d been our parish priest since before I was born. I almost shot the priest that baptized me. As it was, I crippled the Virgin Mary.”
“Wait. How…”
“When I missed Father Romano, the bullet hit a statue of the Virgin. Perfect shot through her knee. He had the statue repaired with the chips of marble that still remained, but a nine millimeter slug pretty much obliterates a knee, even one made of marble.” She took another deep breath, wishing it was tobacco-flavored. “I still can’t believe I blew away the Virgin Mary.”
