Darby Stansfield Thriller Series (Books 1-3 & Bonus Novella)

by Ty Hutchinson

  As soon as he reached the establishment, he came face to face with a large man sitting on a stool. He practically had muscles on his muscles. The only reassuring thing that said he wasn’t an animal was the big smile on his face; it rivaled Balagot’s own. He also had a Heineken in one hand and a shaka sign in the other. This had to be Braddah Moku.

  “Howzit, brah? Welcome to Kolohe’s.”

  “Are you Braddah Moku?” Balagot asked. He pulled out a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it over to the big man.

  “What can we do for you, Mr. Balagot?”

  “Well, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about the break-in that took place over at Pikai Street. The victims were a young white couple.”

  “You talking about Darby and Izzy’s place? He mentioned something about hiring one private investigator.”

  The PI stuck his hand out. “Rudi Balagot.”

  Braddah Moku shook his hand. “I can answer questions so long as we do it here, by the door.”

  Balagot took out a pen and notepad from his jacket pocket. “Why don’t you start by telling me what you know about the situation?”

  “Well, from what I hear, somebody went break into their place and attack Izzy. But that girl went fight back. Whoever it was probably never see that coming. The second time, I heard the person was creeping around, maybe doing some surveillance. I know they both think this kid Kalani had something to do with it.”

  “What do you think?”

  “That kid been ripping people off forever.”

  “Does he beat people up?”

  “Nah, that guy stay one hundred forty pounds soaking wet. Who he going intimidate?”

  “So why does everyone think it’s Kalani?”

  Braddah Moku shifted on his stool. “Brah, stealing from tourist—that stay his M.O.”

  “That’s where you lose me. We can’t forget about the assault.”

  “I just see that as something that happen because he was caught in the act. He probably went think no one was home. Plus I hear other houses got hit, too.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  Braddah Moku pointed to the side of his head. “You gotta have your ear to the ground.”

  “How reliable is that?”

  “My sources are pretty reliable. I mean, every now and then what I hear might be off but for the most part, it’s right on, brah.” Braddah Moku drained the last of his beer and motioned to the bartender for another.

  “Eh, you like one beer?”

  Balagot declined. He had a long drive back into town and was already feeling the length of the day tugging down on his eyelids.

  “You think Kalani the one?”

  Balagot shook his head. “I haven’t concluded anything yet.” He looked around the bar. It was standing room only in Kolohe’s. The atmosphere would only get livelier as people drank more. He decided not to waste any more time talking about Kalani. He looked at his notepad again. “What about Roger Kwan and Mike Souza?”

  “How you know those guys?”

  “I’m an investigator. I find things out.”

  Just as Braddah Moku was about to answer, a saucy little waitress appeared with a tray full of drinks. “One for you and one for your friend,” she said with smile.

  “Mahalo, Christine.” Braddah Moku held out a beer. “Last chance.”

  Balagot smiled once more and shook his hands back and forth in front of him.

  The friendly giant acknowledged it with a nod, then drained half of one of the beers. He placed the other beer on a shelf next to him. “So, as I was about to say, those guys stay with the NBB. You heard of them?”

  Balagot nodded. “I’m familiar.”

  Braddah Moku raised an eyebrow. “What, you think they involved with the break-in?”

  Balagot really wasn’t interested in laying out his theories for Braddah Moku. “I have an angle that’s worth investigating.”

  “Roger Kwan one mean guy. Not one to mess around with. Souza, on the other hand, not so bad. I don’t even know why he stay in the gang.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Doesn’t seem like the type. But if you want, you can ask him yourself. He’s the haole-looking guy heading this way.”

  Balagot looked to where Braddah Moku motioned with his head. A white guy dressed in jeans and a black Local Motion T-shirt was finishing a beer as he walked toward them. Balagot thanked Braddah Moku for his time and followed Souza out the front door.

  Chapter 53

  The next day, I pondered my trip back to San Francisco. It was time to shake hands and tell dirty jokes. I had my monthly check in with Gerald Thorn. I didn’t like the idea of leaving when this Kalani thing wasn’t resolved, but there was no canceling with the King of Sales. Of course, Izzy kept telling me she would be fine. I started to believe her.

  After numerous attempts all week, I was finally able to get ahold of Souza on his cell phone and arrange a time to meet at the Kahuku house to check Tav’s ID card. The card was supposed to make things simpler, but it had become a big thorn in my ass. It would be a solid thirty-minute drive to Kahuku just to swipe a card.

  As I drove out there, I started wondering if the break-in really could have something to do with Roger or Souza. It seemed like the Kalani angle was turning out to be a dead end, and if it wasn’t him, then who else would want to attack us? I really couldn’t see it being Souza. He was my liaison to the gang.

  Could it be that the NBB gang had hit our house randomly without knowing we lived there? That certainly was a possibility, but I had met Souza before any of this had happened—not that it meant anything. I’m sure he wasn’t broadcasting our meeting to the rest of the gang at that point. So they could have hit us randomly. Braddah Moku said that was part of their operations, robbing tourists.

  When I got to the house, Souza wasn’t outside waiting as he said he would be. Not wanting to barge in, I tried him on his cell phone but he wasn’t answering. Did I just drive out here for nothing? I left a message on Souza’s cell. I figured I’d wait for a bit. Maybe he was running late. There was a black SUV in the driveway and parked on the grass was an old 70’s station wagon, the type with wood paneling. Talk about old school. I scoped out the house for movement, but I didn’t see anyone. Someone had to be inside though. If they were, my guess is they were in the back, on the lanai.

  • • •

  Darby was so into his thoughts, he didn’t notice the silver Mazda 626 tailing him from his house to Kahuku. Balagot didn’t think Darby was being completely honest with him, so he figured it would be worth it to see what his client did in his spare time. Sometimes you have to investigate a client in order to help them.

  Plus, Balagot wasn’t able to get any information out of Mike Souza the previous night. The minute Souza found out he was talking to a private investigator, he clammed up and took off. This was half expected. Prior experience told Balagot that unless he had something on a gang member, getting them to talk was difficult. Of course, one always tried.

  Balagot parked his car two houses away from where Darby parked. He had no idea what was going on, but he gathered Darby had come out here to meet with someone. He cut his engine, made a few notes in his notepad, and waited.

  • • •

  Fifteen minutes had passed and I was starting to get impatient. I kept thinking, Why don’t I just walk inside? I’m Darby Stansfield, telecommunications consultant to the criminal world. These fuckers hired me. Why shouldn’t I be able to enter this place like any other business?

  I always felt comfortable walking into my client’s headquarters. This time, my gut said not to. I don’t know why, but I felt uneasy. This relationship with this gang was unlike any of my others. In the past, I always got along with those in charge or dealt with them directly. Now, I operated through Souza but I really had no idea what his status was. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t know much about the gang.

  What if Balagot discovered i
t was someone from the NBB, or worse, that it was Souza or Roger? What would that do to my consultation? Would it be over?

  Even if they targeted us by mistake or before we had a working relationship, why not admit it? I was beginning to get pissed. One of my rules was never to take shit from a gang. It made me look weak. And if I looked weak, I could forget about having any leverage. Leverage was an important part of getting paid.

  I tried Souza’s cell phone again and still got his voicemail. I didn’t feel like waiting any longer. Tav would have to wait to find out if he was owed any money. I started up my trusty Jeep and left.

  • • •

  Balagot snapped out of his daze as he heard the revving of Darby’s Jeep. Looks like someone got stood up in a meeting. He started his engine and followed Darby, all while wondering about the house and the connection. Tomorrow he would swing by and watch for any activity.

  Inside the house, Roger Kwan stepped out of the shadows and watched Darby leave. About fucking time. Near his feet, on the floor, lay Mike Souza. Roger turned around and motioned to a couple of NBB members loyal to him. “Get this body out of here before Akahi comes back.”

  “Where?” one of the men asked.

  Roger peeked back outside the window and watched the silver car leave.

  He then looked back at his crew. “Feed the pigs.”

  Chapter 54

  The two Japanese men sat huddled around a small table near the back of the club speaking in hushed conversation, a mixture of English and Japanese. Between sips of scotch, both men pulled drags off of their cancer sticks like they were oxygen masks. Nothing about them stood out. They were dressed in typical island fashion for businessmen—slacks and aloha shirts.

  But Jiro Harada and Takeo Dazai were anything but a couple of businessmen. They were members of the local Yakuza. Their outfit controlled the crystal meth trade from Asia to the US. O’ahu was an important waypoint in their distribution. Because of that, the island had long ago garnered the title Ice Capital of the Nation. Crystal meth had a strong hold on the islands, and the Yakuza did whatever it took to protect their distribution channel.

  Club Tress was located on Kona Street right next to the Ala Moana Shopping Center. It was a typical hostess bar, meaning there’s a staff of young women whose sole job was to spend time talking, listening and having fun with the male customers.

  Mama, the Korean lady that managed the club and the girls, was busy behind the bar using a flashlight to take inventory of the liquor in the dim lighting. The bar didn’t open until five. That was three hours away, so none of the hostesses had shown up for work yet. The two men in the corner booth weren’t concerned. They were waiting for someone else.

  A knock at the front door alerted the men and Jiro snapped his finger at Mama. She opened the door and a man appeared, backlit by the afternoon sun. Mama spoke a few words before pointing to the table in the back of the club. The stranger became recognizable, as he got closer to the table. It was Roger Kwan.

  Parked outside, about fifty feet from the building, was Balagot. The investigator had made good on his promise to return to the Kahuku house the next day. The same black SUV was parked in the driveway. No station wagon this time. He parked his car in the same spot and waited and watched for three hours before something happened. That something was Roger Kwan exiting the house. Balagot was surprised to see this. Why was Darby at the house of the guy he thought might be the one who attacked Izzy? This was a strange turn of events, but now that he had found Kwan, Balagot decided it was time to see what he was up to.

  Back inside, Roger took a seat opposite the seated men and extended his hand across the table. “Jiro. Takeo.”

  Roger knew shaking hands wasn’t something Yakuza members did, but he didn’t give a fuck. It’s what he did. And if they didn’t like it, Roger told himself he could snap both their necks right there and deal with any repercussions later.

  Roger Kwan was always this way. Talk never settled things. Taking a guy out always did the trick. Even though he was busy as an enforcer for the NBB, he continued to make time for his training in martial arts. He had discovered mixed martial arts fighting a few years ago and threw himself into it one hundred percent. He had become as versatile with his legs as he was with his fists.

  “What’s happening? I never heard anything.”

  Jiro held his hand up, stopping Takeo from speaking. “Roger, these things take time. We are not asking you to help us. It is the opposite. So we will not move on your timeline.”

  Jiro held Roger’s stare, never wavering, even though he knew what Roger was capable of. He didn’t scare easily, and to him Roger was a thug. Roger’s offer to create a partnership didn’t excite him in too many ways.

  Roger, on the other hand, wanted in on the drug trade. While the money as an enforcer was good, the money that could be made moving the white stuff was even better. And he wanted a taste.

  “Look, you get me and a few others as muscle. We can help you expand into the countryside, where you have no distribution.”

  “We distribute much more in the city to make up for it,” Jiro countered.

  “Yeah, but why not take full advantage? I can move this stuff where you don’t. You wouldn’t even have to lift a finger.”

  “Roger, if you want to help to us, you can deal with the pests in Wahiawa.”

  The only reason why Jiro decided to entertain Roger was that he could use the muscle. Their goal wasn’t to distribute through out the entire island; it was just a waypoint toward the mainland—that’s where the big money was. Distributing on O’ahu was a bonus. But muscle to insure that their precious cargo moved securely in and out of the state was valuable. The Filipino gangs that ran the town of Wahiawa had targeted some of the Yakuza’s shipments and were bringing in their own stuff. A street war with this pesky little gang was not what they wanted. It would draw unnecessary attention.

  “Brah, how many times I gotta tell you? I no stay interested in fighting your battles.”

  Takeo could take the disrespect no longer and reached into his waistband, but Jiro’s hand was quicker and stopped him.

  Roger laughed at what he saw. “Takeo, if you even think of pulling one gun on me. You better not hesitate, because I not going hesitate to shove that fucking thing down your throat.”

  Takeo gritted his teeth in silence. His face grew red with hatred. Jiro whispered to him in Japanese and Takeo excused himself from the table. When he was out of earshot, Jiro looked back at Roger. “Antagonizing Takeo will not help your situation.”

  “Eh, maybe he should stay home. What’s his purpose at these meetings anyway? He sits there and grunts.”

  This time Jiro had to use his own willpower. He hated having to deal with this baboon, but orders from his bosses were to find out if his intentions were true. “You still haven’t told us how you will deal with your leader. It is our understanding that dealing drugs is against your gang policy.”

  “I stay working on one plan for that. Trust me.”

  “And how will you deal with the other problem? The white-skinned man who’s been following you to our meetings, the one who parks down the street—what about him?”

  Roger chuckled and bounced his pecs on alternating sides. “I dealt with him. Don’t worry about him showing his face. In fact, by now I doubt he even has one face.” Roger laughed and then snorted like a pig. The reference amused him.

  Jiro brought his hands together, allowing only his fingers to touch. “I still need permission to allow you to distribute. It is not my decision to make.”

  “When you gonna know?”

  “We will contact you in a week.”

  Roger pointed at his watch as he stood up. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Chapter 55

  San Francisco, California

  I called Izzy around four in the afternoon my time to let her know some additional meetings were added to my schedule and I would have to spend another day in San Francisco. I wasn’t happy about that.
I didn’t like leaving her alone. Like last time, the plan was to jump on the afternoon flight and be back in Honolulu by the afternoon, local time.

  “Anyway, you should stay with Momi tonight. Okay? All right, I’ll talk to you later.” I chuckled as I hung up.

  Tav was sitting in the chair on the other side of my desk. “What did she say?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I got voicemail. She’s probably surfing the break in front of the house.”

  “So why did you laugh?”

  “I keep forgetting that Izzy isn’t one of those girly girls.”

  “Hell no.” Tav sat up. “Wait. She’s not worried about staying alone is she?”

  “No, not at all. In fact, I think she’d relish the opportunity to take on this intruder again.”

  “She wants to work this guy over,” Tav said, mimicking a boxer.

  “You could say that. Still, I’m bummed about having to spend another night in the city.”

  “I don’t blame you. By the way, how’s your private eye working out?”

  “Fine, I guess. He’s busy questioning a whole bunch of people.”

  Tav finished off his Mountain Dew and pitched the can into the trash for three points. “People? I thought you guys said it was that Kalani guy.”

  “We did, but Mr. Balagot is starting to have doubts, so he’s investigating others.”

  “Like who?”

  “Like Roger Kwan.”

  Tav threw his arms up in the air. “You gave him that psycho’s name?”

  “Yeah, he cornered me one day at Luau’s asking for other names. I still think Roger was the one who locked the door on us at the cockfight,” I said. “He hasn’t liked me from the moment I met the gang. Plus, part of the gang’s operations is that they target tourists for theft.”

  “You think the gang targeted you?” Tav asked, his eyebrows punctuating the question.

  “No, but I wouldn’t put it past Roger. Also it could have been coincidental,” I shrugged. “I didn’t know Roger or the gang when Izzy got attacked. I only knew Souza.”