My police scanner had gotten crushed in a freak accident two days earlier and I hadn’t replaced it yet. Even with the scanner, I’d seldom arrived on scene at the start of anything that involved this type of response. A semi-circle of police cars flanked a yellow firetruck and an EMS van.
All the action focused on an apartment facing the sidewalk. Its front door stood wide open. One police officer guarded the entrance. Paramedics frantically attended to a male stretched out on the browning front lawn. Blood splotches glistening on the man’s chest suggested he hadn’t suffered a heart attack.
My hands shook as I removed my camera from its case. Something bad had occurred here, possibly a domestic argument turned violent. It was the worst type of police call. At least this time, no officer had been injured. I took a couple of deep breaths and surveyed the situation.
Several officers maintained order. While they instructed residents to go back inside, I snapped photos of the apartment entrance, the man on the ground, emergency vehicles, anything that looked like part of the scene.
Whatever happened, the investigation had barely gotten started. As long as I stayed under everyone’s radar, I was sure no one would accuse me of obstructing an ongoing case. Then a detective I knew walked out from the back courtyard and spotted me.
“Fancy meeting you here, Detective,” I said, catching up with him before he reached the street. To ward off any chiding for stepping on his crime scene, I added, “Any particular reason you might be handling the case of a man bleeding from the chest?”
Alika Ouelette was a homicide detective with the Honolulu Police Department. He and my dad were best friends since small kid time on the Big Island. Dad married a local girl and returned to his roots in North Kohala. He’d made Detective Sergeant in the police department over there about the same time Alika got his stripes in Honolulu.
“Don’t start with me, Cacao,” Alika said. “I can’t give you enough information to fill a shot glass, much less a story. What you see is what you get.”
“What I see is a guy on the ground with blood on his chest.” My hands had stopped shaking from my initial reaction to the scene and I’d gotten some decent pictures. But nerves had my stomach roiling over the possibility of a big story. “Nani’s apartment isn’t soundproof. We heard sirens and came down. What we didn’t hear was gunshots. My guess is the guy got knifed. How am I doing so far?”
“I’ll confirm that, but nothing else.” Detective Ouelette walked out to his unmarked car parked at the curb. The department pays an allowance to personnel who use their own vehicles, and Alika had purchased the white sedan the day he made detective. He reached for the hand mic on his car radio and called Dispatch.
He had turned his back to me, so I couldn’t catch his words. Nani was talking to a fireman standing alongside his truck. Edging my way closer to the building, I sidled up to the officer stationed at the apartment entrance. With my gaze focused on the flower bed, he wouldn’t suspect me of anything. The tail-end of Alika’s transmission came over the officer’s radio, not loud but clear.
Now I had confirmation the man had been stabbed, once in the arm and twice in the chest. No suspect in custody, but witnesses had heard angry voices and reported they saw one of the man’s relatives pull away from the curb. I glanced around the scene and noted the paramedics’ lifesaving activities had ceased. Without drawing conclusions, I scribbled the information in my notebook, recording everything in the muddled shorthand I’d devised during my first year of college.
Nani came running over and grabbed my arm, tugging me off to the side. “Cacao, you won’t believe it. I know the guy who got stabbed.”
I raised an index finger signaling for Nani to wait. “Okay,” I said, once my notes were complete. “Who’s the guy and how do you know he was stabbed?”
Getting the information from more than one source always added credibility. Besides, I didn’t dare use Alika’s name as a source after eavesdropping on his radio transmission. Legal or not, Alika would have my business license, not to mention my head.
Nani’s heel thumped the ground in rhythm with her rapid speech. “Just overheard a paramedic say the knife must have nicked the heart ’cause so little blood seeped out before the man died.”
That confirmed my suspicions. I jotted down the information, knowing I could attribute the quote to “an unknown source” in the field. Nani was investigating my story for me.
“Dang, Nani, you’re gonna end up taking over my job. How do you know the dead guy?”
“Well, I don’t really know him. I know one of his in-laws, his wife’s brother.”
Maybe that was the relative witnesses saw leaving the scene. “Who’s the guy you know?” I asked. With Nani, questions often had to be rephrased to get answers.
Her forehead furrowed, as though she couldn’t remember. When she did answer, I wasn’t sure whether to cuss or cry. “Actually…” She looked back toward the dead body on the lawn. “The wife has two brothers.”
I fought to tamp down my frustration. “What can you tell me about the dead guy?”
“Nothing. I only know the wife’s brothers. The older one I know from work. Chen can get boisterous after a couple of drinks. Obnoxious might be a better word. The younger one hangs with him at the bar on weekends. He’s the quiet one so I don’t know him too well.”
“Nani, do you know the dead guy’s name?”
“Sure. It’s Gabe something-or-other. He’s part Asian. The last name’s Young or Yuen. That’s it. Gabe Yuen.”
Knowing the name of the man who was stabbed to death wasn’t enough for me to get an article in tomorrow’s newspaper, though. Certainly not front page. My job would have been easier if Honolulu still had the Advertiser and the Tribune competing for stories. Since they’d merged, there was less space to fill. It meant more competition for freelancers like me. And the paper always used police blotter information over a reporter on fresh stories.
A woman in her early thirties driving an older model Kia pulled to the curb. She had barely skidded to a halt and turned off the engine before she whipped the door open. She ran toward the apartment entrance. A police officer grabbed for her arm but missed. She stared at the ground where the dead body lay, still uncovered while they waited for the coroner. Without a sound, she fell to her knees and cradled his head. I snapped a quick photo as her purple scarf fluttered in the breeze, shielding her face but not her sorrow.
The fire truck caught my attention when its engine revved. Having responded as backup only until the ambulance arrived, it edged away from the curb now. Alika gave me a hand signal over the hood of his car. He wanted me gone. I reached for Nani and led her from the scene.
“Let’s go back to your apartment. The police and EMS don’t need us loitering while they do their job.” Besides, with all the excitement, I really needed to use her bathroom.
We walked around to Nani’s building and took the stairs again. On the way down earlier, I hadn’t noticed all the trash packed in the corners of the steps. The jagged glass of a broken beer bottle met us at eye level as we climbed toward the landing. Cigarette butts littered the hallway. Nani rented the space at the far end of the hall so she had to navigate past this mess every day.
Inside her studio, I used Nani’s bathroom before pulling out my cell to speed-dial the news desk. I recited my facts about the stabbing death, naively hoping mine was the first call they’d received. After being told my details would get used to flesh out the police-reported incident, I walked over to the end table. I lifted my glass from where I’d set it when the sirens disrupted us. The soda had gone flat but I drank it anyway. Then I slumped into Nani’s couch.
“Mine was the first reporter call with the story,” I told Nani. “But they already had all the details from the police scanner and what Dispatch released. If I get something new, they’ll consider a follow-up article.”
“New l
ike what?”
Nani handed me a bowl of chips, my reward for almost getting a newsworthy story.
“Mostly stuff the police will dig up on their own. Like who stabbed the man. And why.” It was possible to do a background story on the family, or on the killer. If there really was a story there. But I didn’t want to hand in another article on drug-related vengeance or domestic violence. “What’s the name of the bar you hang out at with that Chen guy?”
“C’mon, I’ll take you there.” Nani grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “You drive.”
My stomach growled as we cut through the courtyard. Should have grabbed a handful of chips on the way out. I walked over to the playground area where the only equipment available for the kids to play on were whitewashed truck tires. I kicked at one of the tires half-embedded in the packed dirt. It wobbled.
“When does the owner plan to renovate this area so the kids have a decent place to play?”
“Probably not till next April,” Nani said, disgust distorting her face. “They finally got the hot water running in all the apartments. That’ll probably cover their budget, or some misguided legal requirement, for the rest of this year.”
The parking lot stalls were filled. At the far end, weeds grew out of the cracked asphalt. Two cars without tires rested on cement blocks. In the sea of gray, oversized pickups and compact sedans, my red Mini Cooper stood out.
Most times I didn’t have two spare quarters to rub together, after shelling out for rent and gas. But I kept the Coop spit-shined at all times. My dad’s mother, “Grams” to the world in general, had handed the keys over to me for my college graduation, no strings attached. She only expressed the hope I would always be proud of a life well lived. I thought to give her a call, then remembered why she had me housesitting in Mānoa. She wanted me to “keep an eye on things” for the duration of her Alaskan cruise.
“So you think Chen is the relative those people told the police about?” Nani asked, once we were moving with the traffic. “That probably means he’s the one who stabbed Gabe. Maybe we should let the cops find him.”
Now that she’d put it into words, I wondered if it was such a smart plan to go hunting for Chen. “No guts, no glory.” I tried to sound confident but only managed to stutter my Gs instead.
“Turn here.” Nani pointed to my left. She had directed me to a small strip mall on Dillingham Boulevard. “Pull into that empty spot in front of the karaoke bar. This is where we hang out most nights.”
She hopped out of the car. When she slammed the door, I cringed and threw her an irritated scowl. But she was already entering the bar. A sign over the door read M & Q KARAOKE. Music drifted into the parking lot, someone’s falsetto voice singing a Michael Jackson hit about Billy Jean. A wall of smoke met me as I entered.
While my eyes adjusted to the dark, I listened to a new melody blast from the speakers. Whoever chose to sing Cher’s half-breed song was looking for trouble. And we would all suffer the consequences.
I tugged on Nani’s jersey. “Why is this place so crowded on a Thursday afternoon?”
“It’s the free snack food. Mele and Quinton serve the best pupus in town, and lots of it. Come on, let’s grab a table against the wall.”
The waitress took our orders for cola on ice, with a lime twist. She handed us each a sheet of paper. “Da specials same like always. Some sashimi left. You want one plate?”
“Eh, Cacao, we lucky,” Nani piped in, quickly reverting to local pidgin. “Every time, sashimi da first t’ing to go.”
The waitress made a beeline for the back room. She returned with a small platter of raw fish strips, bowls of shoyu, and a small glob of wasabi. Next to the platter, she set a plate of chicken wings dripping with barbeque sauce. I almost drooled as she laid out the chop sticks and napkins. She set down two glasses filled with ice and cola, along with a saucer of lemon and lime wedges.
Nani dug into the wings. I stirred wasabi into the shoyu with a chopstick and helped myself to a strip of deep red ahi. A few minutes later, she waved to someone, then poked me with her elbow. “Look, dat Chen coming in da door. He wen’ get his little brada with him, too.”
I grabbed a napkin to wipe shoyu off my fingers. As Chen and his brother walked toward our table, I studied them. I’d expected to see a couple of stocky boys. It took a minute to adjust to the reality of two muscular men, each at least five-ten, leaning toward two hundred pounds. Now I understood why Nani had questioned my plan to search for Chen.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, Nani,” I whispered, not taking my eyes off the guys headed toward us.
“Too late.” She waved them over. “Eh, you guys pau work early today or wat?”
“Nah,” the older one said. His laugh could have cut ice. “I wen’ tell da boss we no like come work today.”
“Still some sashimi left.” Nani motioned for them to join us, then pointed to me. “Dis my friend, Cacao. Dis here’s Chen and, uh, sorry, fo’get your brada’s name.”
Chen cuffed the back of his brother’s head. The younger man rubbed his hand across the spot and looked at the floor. “His name’s Mina. Sit, Mina. Eat some of dem wings.” He turned and called out a drink order to the waitress and told her to bring some crab legs.
“Mina, he been one busy boy.” Chen pretended to swat at his brother again. “Ain’t you, Mina?”
“Knock it off, Chen.” Mina grabbed a chicken wing and bit into the meat. Barbeque sauce dribbled from the corner of his mouth.”
“See, jus’ like at the Projects, mo’ tomato sauce.” Chen pointed to Mina’s jersey.
Streaks of red marred the baseball logo on the shirt. Mina looked down at the marks on his chest. Then he picked up a napkin and made a couple of swipes, only smearing it more. Whatever had soaked into his shirt hadn’t dried yet.
“Gotta take one leak,” Chen said. He got up and headed toward the back of the bar where doors were marked “WAHINE” and “KANE”.
The waitress arrived with Chen’s drink order. She set one of the glasses on the table before the first shouts rang out only feet away.
“Freeze, all of you.” The commands came from two uniformed police officers, both with guns drawn. “Don’t move. Keep your hands where we can see them at all times.”
The karaoke machine clicked off in mid-lament, leaving the room in silence.
Without thinking, I protectively reached for my camera case. A booming voice stopped me cold.
“You don’t hear so good, lady? I said freeze.”
Nani, Mina, and I were all shuffled off in handcuffs, transported to the main police station on Beretania. If the police found Chen in the men’s room, they didn’t bother to tell us. Nani and I were allowed to ride in the back of the same squad car. Mina was placed in a separate vehicle. While Mina was escorted into the station, Nani and I were ordered to “sit tight.”
A uniformed officer stood guard outside the vehicle until footsteps announced someone approaching. “About time,” the officer said. “You trying to put a scare into them?”
The back door snapped open and Homicide Detective Alika Ouelette stood looking down at me. “Yup, the operative word here is ‘trying.’ These girls just ain’t got no fear in them. Get out of the car, Cacao. Bring your cute little sister-in-crime with you.”
Alika unlocked our cuffs, yanking the metal from our wrists with more force than necessary. Then he told us to follow him. Inside the station he took us to an unoccupied office. “Sit.” He pointed to two plastic chairs.
We did, looking at each other for answers that neither of us had.
Before I could get out a question, Alika took off on one of his rants. “Cacao, why do you always end up in the middle of my investigations? I know, you just happened to be visiting your friend.” He stopped and gave Nani a look that suggested she was to blame for this latest fiasco. “Do you have any idea wh
at you stepped into this time?”
“No,” I mumbled, “but I have a feeling you’re going to tell us.”
“Actually, no, I’m not. You are both going to be interrogated by a detective who has no conflict of interest with you two. That’s all I can tell you. I could receive a reprimand for just talking to you. So don’t ask any questions. Just sit here. Quietly.”
Moments later, heavy footsteps announced another arrival. This time, a plainclothes officer introduced himself to us as Detective Sergeant Dex Kadomo. “I’ll be questioning each of you separately. Let’s begin with you.” He gestured toward Nani who stood and followed him out of the office.
Alika followed both of them out, not bothering to look at me. I wanted to ask what happened to my camera bag. But he wasn’t taking questions.
The sun hit the wall behind me as it streamed through a window near the ceiling. I thought of prisoners never allowed to see outdoors because of the high placement of windows. O-triple-C, O‘ahu’s main prison for men, popped into my head, then the Women’s Community Correctional Center. I shivered, unable to imagine what had me thinking about either facility.
It didn’t take long to drum up an answer. Obviously, the red streaks on Mina’s jersey were the dead brother-in-law’s blood. He must have stabbed Gabe Yuen to death. Why? I had no idea. Nor did I know Chen’s role in the situation. Whether the stabbing was self-defense, manslaughter, or premeditated murder was also up for grabs. The faster my mind spun, the more I suspected Alika had arranged for me to sit in this room by myself to make me suffer in silence.
“Miss Janus?” The detective had returned for me. “This way.”
The sun had disappeared from the window. My watch said four-thirty. My stomach was growling again at having only a glass of flat soda and a few chunks of raw fish for lunch before being ordered to freeze. “Yes.” I stood and followed him down the hall.
Paradise, Passion, Murder Page 8
