by Larry Darter
"A lady from the mainland came over to visit a bloke she met on an Internet dating site. He spent the night with her in her hotel room last night. She awakened this morning to find him gone along with all her jewelry."
"Did she make a police report?"
"I advised her to when I saw her about an hour ago, but I don't know if she has."
"What was the value?"
"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars," I said.
Mike whistled. "Why did she bring two hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth of jewelry with her?"
"She seems quite well-to-do. I reckon it's normal for her to bring her jewelry on holiday. Only her jewelry it seems is a bit more valuable than most of us women own."
"So, what does she expect you to do?"
"Find the bloke that nicked her jewelry and get it back if I can."
"What kind of help do you need?"
"I was hoping you could help me identify the guy. I've already verified that he lied about his work. I suspect he was also using an alias. I'd like to find out the rat bastard's true name."
"It's been a while since I worked property crimes," Mike said. "Let's go upstairs and talk to a guy I know in the burglary-theft detail. He might be able to help us get a line on your perp."
We took the lift upstairs to the criminal investigation division, then walked into an open office with cubicles.
"That's him over there," Mike said.
We walked over to a cubicle where a man wearing dark blue slacks, a white shirt, and a blue tie was sitting. A navy jacket was draped over the back of his chair. He looked to be in his forties. His dark hair was starting to gray at the temples. The man looked up as we approached, and he smiled.
"Mike, what's up, brother?" the man said.
"Hey, Greg. Wanted you to meet someone. This is T.J. O'Sullivan. T.J. this is Greg Yu."
Yu stood up and extended his hand. I shook it. "So, this is T.J., is it? Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you from Mike. You're a private investigator, right?"
"Yep, I am," I said.
"Listen, Greg," Mike said. "T.J. is looking for a guy involved in a case she's working. I thought you might be able to help."
"Sure, if I can," Yu said. "What do you need?"
I outlined Madison's story as I had for Mike earlier. "I suspect the guy gave my client a false name and I'd like to identify him."
"What's the name he was using?" Yu said.
"Bernard Clemens," I said. "White male in his fifties. He claimed to be a university professor, but I've already verified he isn't."
"Sounds vaguely familiar, but I can't recall where I've heard the name," Yu said. He sat back down at his desk and typed on his computer keyboard. A screen came up on the monitor. Yu entered the name in a field on the screen.
"Only one Bernard Clemens listed in the DMV database. He has an identification card, but he is too old. He's in his eighties. Let me try something else."
After more typing, another screen popped up. "This is our in-house database. We enter aliases used by suspects we've handled." Yu typed the name into a field at the top of the on-screen form.
"Ah, now I remember," Yu said. "Bernard Clemens is a known alias for a guy named Bernie Clements, a second-story man. The alias is close to his actual name. Must be getting lazy in his old age. I took some burglary reports he turned out to be good for back when I was a patrol officer. I'd have thought he would still be in prison."
"Second-story man?" I said.
"That's a burglar who makes entry above the ground floor of a building," Mike said.
"I see," I said. "Like a cat burglar."
"That's right," Yu said. "Bernie did jobs at several of the high-rise hotels on Waikiki. And he did specialize in jewelry."
Yu typed on the keyboard again. "Let's have a look at his last booking."
A screen popped up with a photo. I pulled out the photo Madison had given me and compared them. The bloke on the screen was younger, but it was the same man.
"So, your client's jewelry was taken in a burglary?" Yu said.
"Not exactly," I said. I gave Yu the details of Madison's story.
"Must have learned an easier way to get at the jewelry while he was in prison," Yu said. "Know something? We've had three reports similar to your client's story in the past year. The suspects gave the victims false names, but the names in those cases were all different. But, now I'd bet old Bernie is good for all of them. We never looked at him because it wasn't his M.O., and the names given to the victims weren't aliases he had used before."
"Any idea where Bernie Clements is living?" I said.
"It's doubtful that the addresses we have on file are still good," Yu said. "As I said, he went to prison. Since it seems he is out now, he must be on parole. Go to the parole authority office on Alakea Street and find his parole officer. They might have a current address on him. That's where I'm going to start, myself."
"I'll do that," I said. "And thanks for your help, Detective Yu."
"No problem. Any friend of Mike's is a friend of mine. Glad to help."
Mike and I said goodbye to Yu and took the lift down to the lobby. "You could save yourself the legwork and let Yu follow up with Clements' P.O.," Mike said. "He will, now that he knows Clements is offending again. I can let you know what he finds out."
"Nice offer," I said. "But as we know, the wheels of justice can turn quite slowly. I'd like to track Clements down quick smart in hopes he may still have my client's jewelry. I'm going to go to the parole authority straight away."
"I expect the jewelry has already been fenced," Mike said. "Pros don't hang onto the stuff long. As a general rule, they already have a buyer before they make the score."
"You may be right," I said. "But I have to try."
Mike walked me to the front doors. "We still on for tonight?"
"Yep," I said. "Can't wait. Come by my flat at seven, and we'll get dinner."
"Sounds great," Mike said.
"Thanks so much, Mike, for the help."
"Always here to protect and serve," Mike said with a smile.
After checking no one was looking at us I gave him a quick pash on the lips and was off to collect my motorbike for the ride over to the parole authority.
3
The address led me downtown to a gray six-story building. In typical Hawaii government offices fashion, the building was of plain unfinished concrete and glass construction. After parking the motorbike, I walked to the front doors. Two dodgy-looking blokes were sitting on a bench outside giving me the eye as I passed by. Lucky for them, they offered no comments on my anatomy. That said, I still felt like I needed a shower by the time I got into the building.
From a quick check of the building directory in the lobby, I found that the parole authority was on the ground floor and went 'round to the office number the directory listed.
A heavyset African woman in a gray pantsuit sat behind the reception desk. She had a phone to her ear and wore an abundance of costume jewelry. I waited with my usual impatience while she finished the call. She put down the receiver and looked at me.
"May I help you?" the woman said.
"Yes," I said. "T.J. O'Sullivan. I'm looking for the parole officer of a man named Bernie Clements."
"What's this about, Ms. O'Sullivan?"
"Mr. Clements, it seems, has returned to the dark side. I'm a private detective and wish to discuss the matter with his parole officer."
The receptionist looked unimpressed. She typed something on the keyboard in front of the computer on her desk.
"Bernie Clements reports to Vicki Morrison," she said.
"Might I have five minutes of her time?" I said.
"Let me check." The receptionist picked up the phone receiver and punched in an extension number. She spoke into the phone. "A private investigator is here and would like to speak with you about Bernie Clements. Yes, all right." She replaced the receiver and looked up at me. "You may go in. Go down that hall to the third offic
e on the left."
"Thank you," I said. Following the directions, I found an attractive young woman about my age, mid-thirties with long, bleached-blond hair and large brown eyes standing in the doorway of the office. She wore a lilac-colored business suit. She watched me approach and seemed to study my face.
"How can I help you?" she said.
"Hi, Ms. Morrison, I'm T.J. O'Sullivan, a private investigator. I believe Mr. Clements pinched some very expensive jewelry from my client."
"You thought you needed to report that to his parole officer?"
"That's not why I'm here. At HPD headquarters, a detective told me you might provide me with Mr. Clements' current address. Since I'd like to speak with him, it would help to know where he lives."
"Yes, well I'm not permitted to release the address of a private residence where a parolee may live to anyone other than law enforcement."
"I can appreciate that. But, some items Mr. Clements nicked are family heirlooms my client considers irreplaceable. By the time the police find him, I expect he will have already disposed of the jewelry. I'd like to have the chance to recover the property for my client before he does."
"Which detective did you speak with at HPD?"
"Greg Yu, in the burglary-theft detail."
"Wait here, please. I'll call Detective Yu to verify your information. Then I'll decide whether to help you," Morrison said.
"Fair enough," I said. "I'll wait."
Morrison turned and went back into her office, shutting the door behind her. I leaned on the wall with my arms crossed and waited. After five minutes the door opened, and Morrison reappeared in the doorway.
"Seems you have friends at HPD," Morrison said. "Detective Yu said I might as well give you the address because he wanted it, too, and would pass it on to you if I didn't."
"Nice," I said.
"Are you familiar with Chinatown?"
"A bit."
"Clements has an apartment over a shop at 108 Beretania Street, near the Chinese Cultural Plaza."
"Sure I can find it," I said.
"You go poking around over there asking questions about Clements, you had better watch your back."
"Why is that?"
"The Chinese syndicate has seen a resurgence in Hawaii since the feds dismantled them in the 1990s. Word is, when Clements burgled the exclusive hotels on Waikiki for a living back in the day, he fenced the jewelry through the syndicate. If he is back to moving stolen jewelry, I suspect he is still doing that. Not to sound like a bad Hawaii Five-0 episode, but the syndicate will resent having a haole chick nosing around Chinatown asking questions about Clements. They will consider it bad for their business."
"Cheers, and thanks a lot," I said. "But, I reckon I'll be all right. I can take care of myself."
"Perhaps, just saying."
"Thanks for your time, and for the information," I said.
"No problem. Yu is a good dude, and he seems to trust you. Guess I can, too."
"Thanks," I said. "See you."
When I left the building, the dodgy muppets had gone. That, I reckoned, saved us all a fight, as I wasn't in the mood for further stares from the two pervs. I got on the motorbike and glanced at my watch. It was almost five. I decided I had done enough detecting for one day. Chinatown would still be there tomorrow. I started the bike and took off for home.
My flat was in a small complex on Saratoga Road, within easy walking distance of Fort DeRussy Beach Park. It was smallish but served my needs. It had covered parking for my motorbike and was centrally located near heaps of dining choices in the neighborhood. Of course, I could cook. My mum taught me. Only I preferred not to. Best of all, the rent was only a thousand dollars per month. That was cheap by Honolulu standards, where the price for rentals was dear. I wasn't short of cash, but I wasn't the type to spend more than I had to on things like a space to live.
After grabbing the mail from the letterbox and walking upstairs to the flat, I still had a bit more than an hour before I had to be ready for dinner with Mike. I stripped off and hit the tub for a nice soak.
4
Mike sipped some beer. "So, how's the case going?" he said.
"I've only started," I said. "I popped over to the parole authority after I saw you this afternoon, then I came home."
We were having dinner at my flat, having decided on Chinese takeaway. Takeaway was so much simpler than cooking. The dining area was off the lounge. It was small, with only enough space for a small table and two chairs. Often, we ate on the patio, but it was hot out, and I preferred the comfort of the air conditioning.
"Did you get Clements' address?"
"Yep, but only because Yu encouraged Clements' P.O. to give it. She wasn't keen to help me when I first arrived."
"Yeah, Greg told me she called him while you were at her office. So, where does he live?"
"Chinatown it seems, in an apartment over a market on Beretania Street."
"Ah, shit. Babe, be careful. Not saying Chinatown isn't safe, but there is a criminal element there these days."
"You mean the Chinese syndicate? Yep, the P.O. warned me about that. She said Clements had fenced jewelry through them before and reckoned he was still doing that if he was offending again."
"That's what I mean. The syndicate might not like people asking questions about someone they do business with. They could see that as bringing their business unwanted attention."
"It's a piece of piss," I said. "I'm just going to Clements' apartment to ask him a few questions, if I'm lucky enough to find him there. It isn't like I'll be walking up and down the streets asking passersby if they know Bernie Clements, the burglar."
"Still, be careful. No more concussions please, like with that first case that brought you to Hawaii." During my first case in Hawaii blokes kept bashing me in the head. I’d even spent time in the hospital with a concussion.
"Yep, I'm not up for any more head-bashing. I'm so over it."
"Maybe I should tag along," Mike said.
"No, Mike, I'm a big girl, as you well know. I'm not in need of protection."
"Just a thought. Clements is a person of interest to HPD too."
"Yep, but not for murder, and you're a homicide detective."
"Then Yu could go along."
"Yeah, nah. I'm not good with that either. I can handle the jandal, or I'd not be doing the work I do."
"Doesn’t it ever frighten you to go up against thugs all alone?"
"Sometimes it does. I’d be mental if I was never afraid. But I try not to think too much about being afraid. I’m better off acting as if I weren’t.”
"Well, make sure you take your weapon at least."
"No worries, I will. All good, Mike. All good."
"Do you believe you can get your client's jewelry back?"
"I'll know more after having a word to Clements if I find him tomorrow."
"Be my guess that when Clements disappeared on your client, he beat a path right to his fence and sold it."
Nodding, I said, "Hope he didn't, but I reckon you may be right." Getting up, I went to the kitchen to get us two more beers from the fridge. "Like I told Madison, I can find Clements, but I can't guarantee I can get her jewelry back."
"But you'll turn him upside down and give him a hard shaking to make sure, if he tells you he has already fenced the jewelry."
"I might," I said laughing.
Mike glanced about the room and then looked back at me when I sat down with the fresh beersies. "You know, you could move in with me and stop paying rent here."
"I'm not ready yet, Mike. I like having my flat, and I like the pent-up lust that living apart causes us, actually. Makes it sweet-as when we are together."
Mike laughed and placed his hand on my thigh under the table. "I admit, I kind of like that part too."
"It's amazing the way things are with us at the moment. I suppose I don't want to risk breaking the spell by making changes."
"Do you have plans for the weekend?" Mike said.
"Yep, Jackie and I are going out Saturday night, although we have nothing organized yet." Jackie Fitzgerald had become my best mate after I moved to Hawaii. She’d helped me on some of my past cases.
Mike looked disappointed. "Oh, I was hoping we might go up to North Shore for the weekend."
"Ah, sorry babe," I said. "Jackie isn't on with anyone at the moment. We need the occasional girls' night out. We could do something Sunday."
"That would work," Mike said. "Maybe dinner and a movie."
"Sure, we haven't seen a flick in ages."
"Speaking of Jackie, maybe we could fix her up with Greg. Maybe we could even do a double date with them."
"I dunno," I said. "Greg seems like a lovely man. But, not sure how Jackie feels about dating older guys."
"Greg isn't that much older than she is," Mike said. "Besides, it isn't like men are beating down her door for a date."
"Mike, she is a bit picky about men. And she is still getting over her last relationship. Not sure she is ready to hop back into the pool yet."
Mike nodded. "Would you like more of this General Tso's chicken?"
I smirked. "What I'd fancy more is you moving that hand of yours a few centimeters higher, actually."
Mike smiled back. He removed his hand, pushed back his chair, and stood up. He took me by the hand and pulled me to my feet. "I can do much better than that."
"Can you now? Well, let's see if you can walk the talk, big fellow."
5
Early the next morning, I took The Bus, Honolulu’s awesome public transit system, to Chinatown. The buses were clean and the system efficient, making it almost unnecessary to own a personal vehicle in Honolulu. I had an annual pass, and when it was raining I left the motorbike at home and used public transit. Sometimes, like this morning, I’d leave the motorbike at home to do my bit for the environment. The stop was just meters from my flat, and it was only a half-hour ride to Chinatown. I got off at Beretania and Maunakea, then walked down Beretania until I found the address Vicki Morrison had given me.
Sure enough, there was a Chinese market there. The colorful fresh veggies looked and smelled amazing. To the right of the entrance to the market, there was another door. I could see a stairway through the glass and reckoned that it led to the flat above.
