Mahu m-1

by Neil S. Plakcy

  “I’m on the way to picking mine up,” I said, reaching out for her hand. “Come on along, we can pick up yours on the way.”

  AN ASSEMBLAGE OF TREASURES

  While I was getting ready for bed I turned on the TV news, Lui’s station. I was just in time to see part three of their series on gay cops. Lucky me.

  But as I watched, I got more and more interested. There were police forces around the country that had incorporated gay officers into their regular patrols. They primarily worked neighborhoods with large gay populations, and they were more sensitive to issues like gay bashing and regulating gay clubs than straight officers were.

  It was a surprisingly well-balanced piece. I didn’t know if that kind of enlightenment would ever come to Honolulu, but seeing such a piece on my brother’s normally scandal-packed station was a nice change.

  The next morning the phone rang at eight-thirty, just as I was getting ready to go out for a late swim. It was Lieutenant Yumuri. “Can you come over to the station this morning?” he asked.

  “Sure. What for?” I thought maybe he wanted to talk about the case, ease up on the pressure. Maybe this was the first step toward getting my badge and my weapon back. There were a couple of discrepancies I wanted to talk to him about, mostly centered around Evan’s suicide, which I was now sure was faked.

  To his credit, Lieutenant Yumuri sounded uncomfortable when he spoke. “Officer Greenberg is getting his shield. I want to put him at your desk. I’d appreciate it if you’d come by and pick up your personal belongings.”

  I couldn’t speak for a moment. It was all over. My career as a cop, as a detective. And this was how it ended. Finally I said, “Sure. I’ll be over in a little while.”

  “Thank you.” He hung up his end, and I held my receiver there for a minute, listening to nothing, until a female voice came on the line and said, “If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and dial again.”

  I pulled on a pair of khakis and an aloha shirt and walked over to the station. As I was about to walk in, Lidia Portuondo came out in uniform. “Kimo,” she said.

  “Lidia.”

  I started to walk past her, and then she said, “Look, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I never should have told anybody what I heard in that interview.”

  “I guess you shouldn’t have. I thought you could keep a secret.”

  She shook her head. “Couldn’t even keep my own. The lieutenant found out about me and Alvy. So he gets a promotion and I get transferred to Pearl City.”

  “I heard he got his shield,” I said. “He’s taking over my desk.” I hesitated for a minute. “Are you two still…”

  “For now.” She gave me a forced smile. “Who knows, I might meet some handsome guy out in Pearl City.”

  I gave her my hand. “Good luck.”

  “You, too.”

  I nodded at the desk sergeant and started to walk back to my old desk. He said, “Sorry, Kimo, I’ve got to call the Lieutenant before I can let you back there.”

  “I understand.”

  I cooled my heels in the waiting area for a few minutes until Akoni came up front. “I can take him back,” he said to the desk sergeant.

  “Hear you’ve got a new partner,” I said as we walked back.

  “We’re working a new homicide, behind the Royal Hawaiian Hotel,” Akoni said. “He’s got a lot to learn.”

  “Be nice to him, all right?” I asked as we got back to our desks. “What happened to me has nothing to do with him.”

  I started to pack up my desk. I could see Alvy Greenberg had already been sitting there. “I punched him yesterday,” Akoni said. I looked up. “He was talking stink about you. I kept telling him to stop and he wouldn’t, so I hit him.” He had a kind of sheepish grin on his face, like a kid who knows he’s done wrong but can’t help bragging about it.

  “Don’t make a habit of it, all right?” I asked. I smiled at him. “It doesn’t make for good relationships between partners.”

  It didn’t take me long to box up my stuff. A favorite coffee mug, some pictures of my nieces and nephews, a miniature surfboard I won in a contest once and kept around for good luck. It hadn’t brought me much luck lately, and I could have just tossed it, but I didn’t want to tempt fate any worse.

  “See you around,” I said, sticking my hand out to Akoni.

  “Be careful, Kimo.”

  “I won’t take you down with me,” I said. “Anything you say that takes any part of this on you, I’m denying it.”

  “Just tell the truth. If I’ve got anything coming to me I’ll take it.” He looked at me hard. “I’m serious, Kimo. You lie to the bosses, it makes you no better than the criminals who lie to us. It makes our jobs worth nothing.”

  “I’ll tell the truth. And the truth is I made all my own trouble.”

  By the time I got back home it was time to leave for Terri’s house in Wailupe. If the department was giving me an enforced vacation, I might as well enjoy it.

  Danny was glad to see me, and the three of us squeezed into my truck for the ride out to Makapu’u Point instead of taking one of Terri’s cars. “Makes it more like an outing,” I said. We put the picnic stuff in the back along with my surfboards.

  When we arrived, Danny ran down to the shoreline to poke around and I helped Terri lay out lunch for us. “He hardly talked this morning,” she said. “I was worried we were going right back where we were.”

  “Give him time. I’m sure he hurts just as much as you do, but he doesn’t know how to channel it. The good thing is kids heal a lot faster than grown-ups.” I spread a big blanket for the three of us and sat down on it. While Terri put out the food, I said, “I had a case last year, multiple homicide in a crack house on a side street off Kuhio Avenue. This woman was dealing, and she had her four little kids in the house with her. These two guys from the mainland came in and shot the woman and the kids and stole the crack.”

  “How awful,” Terri said.

  “Long way from Punahou, isn’t it? One kid survived, a six-year-old girl. She was smart way beyond her years. I mean, from her hospital bed she told us exactly what happened, described the two guys so that an artist could draw them, everything we needed. She even remembered the street name of one of the guys. We picked them up within hours.” I shook my head. “Then it was like she shut down, totally. Went into cardiac arrest, though the doctors couldn’t figure out why. They had to shock her twice to bring her back. And you know what? We had a follow-up hearing last month, and I saw her. She’s living with foster parents, going to school, and she looks like just the sweetest, happiest little seven-year-old you’ve ever seen. You’d never know anything happened to her.”

  I opened the bag of potato chips and took one. “Of course, you don’t know what’s going on inside her head, how it all marked her, but she’s surviving. Danny will survive, too. It just might take a while.”

  She called Danny back to eat, and he brought with him an assemblage of treasures-an odd-shaped rock, an iridescent shell fragment, and the bleached claw of a sand crab. I admired them each in turn and he sat down next to me to eat, his little foot pressing into the side of my leg, making the physical connection.

  I think the hardest thing for me about accepting my sexuality and all its implications was thinking that I would never have children of my own. I know it’s theoretically possible, but it wouldn’t be the way I’d always imagined it. I really wanted to be a dad, and I thought I’d be a good one. I think my parents did a pretty good job of raising me, though I did feel my father worked too much, that he didn’t give enough of his time to me and my brothers. I wanted to make up for that with my own kid, to see a little part of me reflected in him, to marvel at the perfection of his tiny fingers and toes and then watch him grow up in the world.

  Akoni didn’t want to have kids. He said he’s seen so much horror in the world, so many awful things that people do to each other, that he couldn’t imagine having, as he calls it, “a hostage to fate.” I felt ju
st the opposite. Sure, I’ve seen just as much misery and tragedy, but I always saw the way people recovered, the way the human species was designed to go in the face of almost insurmountable odds. It gave me faith that a kid could actually survive.

  After we finished eating, we sat around on the beach. Danny and I tried flipping pogs, but the sand was too unsteady a base. Instead we just lay together in a haphazard mass, Terri’s feet touching my leg, Danny’s head resting on my chest, and dozed. Then the sun passed behind a cloud for a bit and the coolness in the air woke us up.

  I carefully shifted Danny’s head to the blanket next to me, and stood up and stretched. “I think I’ll surf for a bit, if you don’t mind,” I said to Terri.

  “Go ahead. This is nice, just lying here relaxing.”

  Danny woke up then and said, “Can I go with you, Kimo?”

  “Tell you what, Danny, let me check out the waves, okay? Then I’ll come back for you and give you a little lesson.”

  “Okay.” He pulled his legs up close to him, wrapped his arms around them, and sat there watching me as I walked down the beach.

  I worked on my turns for a while, surfing back and forth along the beach, watching Danny, and then came to pick him up. “You’re sure it’s okay?” Terri asked anxiously. “The surf looked pretty strong out there.”

  “I’ll take care of him. Come on, Danny.” He took my hand, and we walked carefully into the water. The bottom was rough there, and the undertow was strong, but he held my hand until we got a few feet out, and then I lifted him and sat him on my board.

  We didn’t go very far out, just beyond the first line of shallow breakers. I stood him up on my board, me standing in the water next to him, and held him as the board crested over the light waves. It was just the way I’d been taught to surf when I was a kid, learning to keep my balance on the board. Since he’d boogie boarded before, he understood the waves, and pretty soon all I was doing was acting as his safety, my arms in a broad arc around him in case he fell.

  Finally I said, “I think it’s time to go in, champ,” and picked him up off the board. I carried him in past the rough part, and then swam back out for my board, floating on the tide. “Did you see, Mommy?” he called out as he ran up the beach. “I was surfing!”

  “I saw,” Terri said.

  She started to clean up the picnic things, but Danny was antsy and couldn’t sit still. “Tell you what, Terri,” I said. “Why don’t Danny and I take a little walk while you clean up?” I leaned down to Danny’s level. “You want to do that, champ? We can walk along the water line and see what else we can find for your collection.”

  “Yeah,” he said eagerly, and he reached up for my hand. We started down the shore, looking out at Rabbit Island, and Danny pointed there and said, “My dad always promised to take me out there.” He looked down at the ground. “We never went.”

  “I can take you out there sometime,” I said. He didn’t say anything, but held on tight to my hand. “Danny, what happened the day your Dad died?”

  He was silent.

  “It’s important,” I said. “Knowing would make your Mom feel a lot better.”

  He stopped walking, and I sat down on a piece of rock and made a place next to me for him. He sat close to me and said, “I was taking a nap, and I heard these men yelling.”

  Shit, I thought. “How many men?”

  “Two.” He continued, in short phrases, as if he was building up his strength for each new clause. “I was scared… and then I heard this really loud noise… and, and then… I heard the men go out the door.” He stopped and took a big gulp of breath. “Then, then I went… to the door… of my dad’s study, and, and I looked in, and there he was.”

  “So you never saw the men?” I asked. He shook his head. He didn’t say anything else for a while, and so we just sat there, me with my arm around him. He started to cry again, slowly and quietly. “It’s okay, Danny,” I said. “Nobody can hurt you anymore.”

  He looked up at me. “That’s all I remember, until, until you came, to, to the house.”

  I used the edge of my shirt to dry his eyes. We sat like that for a while, him against me, until I finally said, “What do you say we head back to your mom?” and he agreed, and I hoisted him up on my shoulders and we walked back to Terri.

  It was just twilight when we got back to Wailupe, the sky shading between violet and black. The warm breeze coming through the windows of my truck moved the scent of salt water and coconut tanning oil lazily around us. Terri sent Danny inside and stood outside the truck, leaning in the window. “Thanks for today, Kimo. It was good for both of us.”

  “Danny told me what happened the day Evan died,” I said. “He said two men came to the house and argued with his father. Then he heard a shot, and he heard the men leave.”

  “So he didn’t commit suicide! I knew it!”

  “Don’t jump ahead,” I said. “Evan might still have killed himself, he just might have done it in front of witnesses. Do you have any idea who the two men could be?”

  She shook her head. I had an idea myself, but the implications were too scary to think about. Akoni and I had shown the photo of Evan to Derek and Wayne, and they’d indicated he was the cop on Tommy’s payroll. Suppose they had tracked him down?

  But how could they have found him so quickly? We’d never identified him by name. I said, “The guy Evan mentioned in his letter, Tommy Pang. Did you ever meet him?”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “You’re sure? His wife’s name is Genevieve, and he has a son named Derek.”

  “Wait a second. Derek Pang. I met him. He went to Punahou, you know, before Yale. When he got back to Honolulu he was looking for a job in a gallery, and he called up some Punahou alumni to see if anybody could help him. I met him for lunch one day and we talked about art and galleries and Punahou, of course. I gave him a couple of names but I never heard anything else.”

  “Did he ever come to your house?”

  “No.”

  “Did he ever meet Evan?”

  “I only saw him that time.” She paused. “I wonder if he knows Evan was my husband.”

  He knew, I thought, because he’d seen the picture of Evan and Terri’s wedding. That was how Derek had been able to identify Evan so fast. While Akoni and I were back at the station getting our warrants in order, he and Wayne had come out to Wailupe and found Evan at home with his son. Their lucky day.

  SETTING THE TRAP

  I wanted to drive right to Derek and Wayne’s apartment and confront them. I paced around, fuming and raging vendettas of biblical proportions against them. But the truth was I had no real evidence that they’d had anything to do with Evan’s death, which Doc Takayama had ruled a suicide. Unless I could do something, that ruling would stand. Derek and Wayne must have thought Evan killed Tommy, then taken their own biblical-style revenge.

  With Gunter’s help, I thought I could tie Derek and Wayne to the Bishop Museum thefts that Peggy was investigating, but that wasn’t enough. I wanted to nail them. I wanted to prove that they had killed Evan.

  There wasn’t going to be any physical evidence at the house. It had been a week, and no one had dusted the study or the rest of the house for fingerprints or searched for other evidence. There was no evidence linking Derek and Wayne to Evan other than the fact that they’d identified his picture.

  What could I do to prove they were guilty? I knew in my heart that they were the two men Danny had heard yelling at his father. If I got pictures of them and their cars and canvassed the neighbors, maybe someone would remember seeing either of them around the Gonsalves house.

  But that would only be circumstantial. What I really wanted was a confession. I wanted Derek or Wayne to admit they’d shot Evan. That didn’t seem likely, though.

  Or was it? Maybe I was focusing too much on Derek and Wayne as a couple. Divide and conquer. I remembered the bartender at the Boardwalk telling me Wayne had a taste for Asian boys, that he t
rolled there by himself on occasion. Suppose I offered myself up as bait? I already knew he was attracted to me. Of course, I was attracted to him, too, which was a problem. Maybe I could get him in a situation where he had his pants off and his guard down.

  The phone rang. It startled me, bringing me back down to earth. “Hey, brah, just checking in,” Harry said. “Howzit?”

  “I’m glad you called,” I said. “I’ve got a lot to talk to you about.”

  We met at a pizza place on Kuhio Avenue just after dark. It was just a hole in the wall, a half dozen linoleum-topped tables and a couple of tattered posters of the Italian Riviera on the walls, but the crust was thick and chewy and they topped it with about a pound of shredded cheese. They did a major take-out business, sometimes customers lined up out the door waiting patiently for their pies.

  By then I had refined my plan. “I want to be wired up when I get together with Wayne, but I can’t go to Yumuri for the equipment,” I said, when Harry and I were sitting at a two-top in the front window. “You’re the electronics wizard. Can you rig something up for me?”

  “I can put the stuff together, but you need a lot of equipment,” Harry said. The waitress came over and we ordered a large pizza with mushrooms and sausage and a couple of Cokes. “A lot of it’s specialized stuff. You can’t just walk into a store and buy it. Some things, I might have to mail order from the mainland. I mean, I could have it Fed Exed, but I still might not get it until the beginning of next week.”

  “I don’t want to wait that long. I mean, I wish I could go over there right now.”

  I forced myself to calm down and think things through. Okay, we needed electronic equipment. Where else could we get it? We could rent it. There had to be a place on the island that rented that kind of equipment, for movies or TV shows, for example. “Would a TV station have the kind of stuff you need?” I asked.

  “Sure. I might have to do some jury-rigging, but they’d have most of the things-you’re going to ask your brother, aren’t you?”