I wanted to work the case myself. I wanted to find the bastards who blew up my friends and my family, who didn’t care if any of us lived or died. I’d do it on my own time, work nights or weekends. I wanted to make sure the people responsible got what they deserved. I realized I had already assumed I’d be investigating, and I’d started thinking about how to do it.
“I’ve got some ideas about this,” I told Sampson. “I want to check out all the groups that have opposed this legislation. See if any of their members have criminal records. Find out where their money comes from, what their motives are.”
Sampson held up his hand. “You’re assuming you’re investigating this case. You’re not on duty tonight. You aren’t even on this shift.”
I stopped short. “I’ve got to work this case, Lieutenant. You’ve got to give it to me. If you don’t, I’ll… I’ll…”
“You won’t do anything without my authorization.” Sampson stood there menacingly, taller and bigger than I was, my boss, the man who had saved me when it didn’t look like there would be a job left to me on the force. I stared right back at him, forgetting about everything else. He blinked first. “But I’ve got enough troubles without trying to hold you back when you want to investigate. Steve Hart pulled this case, but I’m sure he’d turn it over to you, considering how many open cases he’s got.”
I remembered I had a few open cases of my own, starting with Hiroshi Mura. “You tell Hart I said it’s all right.” Sampson turned to his stepdaughter. “Wait for me in the car, will you?” She looked like she was going to give him an argument, but then she caved.
“Good night, detective,” she said. “Good luck.”
He waited until she was out of earshot and said, “You know what kind of a case this is going to be, don’t you? High profile.”
“I understand.”
“I want to make sure you do. We’ve got a prominent victim, so City Hall is going to be all over this investigation. It’s got a news hook-this gay marriage thing.” He looked at me. “And then there’s you. You’re not exactly low profile yourself.”
“There hasn’t been any coverage of me since I got back from the North Shore. I’ve been keeping my nose clean, concentrating on my job.”
“But the media is going to come after you again, you’ve got to realize that. You’re the gay cop, investigating a gay crime. You prepared for that?”
“I’ll have to be.”
“All right, then.” He nodded his head toward where the Medical Examiner’s truck was parked. “Looks like your victim’s on his way out. You’d better take a look.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant.” I reached out to shake his hand, and realized mine was grimy with smoke and pavement dust, but he took it anyway, and shook it.
“Be careful,” he said.
THE FIRE INVESTIGATOR
I started toward Doc Takayama, but on the way I saw Steve Hart and detoured over to talk to him. He was a tall, skinny haole with slightly shaggy blond hair, recently promoted from patrolman to detective. He worked district one with me, though he was on the night shift so we hardly knew each other.
“Well, well, it’s the big hero,” he said. “Come to give me your side of the story?”
“Actually, I want to tell you I’m taking over the investigation.”
“What the fuck? You think I can’t handle this? Cause I just got my shield? Let me tell you, I’ve been working the streets for long enough, I know how to run an investigation.”
“I talked to Sampson…”
“So he doesn’t think I can handle this? Jesus Christ, they don’t even give you a chance here. I mean, I know I’ve got a lot of open investigations, but shit, everybody’s got them.” He looked at me. “I see your name up on the board a lot. You’re not short of work.” Then he closed his jaw tight and nodded. “I get it. This is some kind of gay thing, isn’t it? You think because I like girls I can’t relate to this.”
“Whoa!” I held up my hand. “Don’t get bent out of shape. This doesn’t have anything to do with you. Shit, I don’t know what kind of detective you are. I hardly fucking know you.” I held my thumb up, pointing back at the burned-out building. “But you know who was in there? My parents. My brothers. My best friends. I asked a friend to go with me to this thing, and he’s in the hospital now. Two other people I know are at Queen’s too, along with my dad. You know how crazy that makes me?”
“I can work this case,” he said. “I want you to know that. I know I’m green, but I’m a good detective.”
“I don’t care. You can be the best fucking detective on this force, but I’m not going to let this case go.” I pulled out my cell phone. “You want me to call Sampson, have him tell you himself?”
“You’re his pet, aren’t you? I know the deal-the department wanted to can your ass and Sampson pulled you in. Reach out to the gay community and all that shit.”
“Goddamn mother fucker!” I reached over and grabbed a piece of Hart’s shirt, startling the shit out of him. “This is not about who I choose to have sex with, you asshole. These people messed with my family and I’m gonna get them. And anybody who stands in my way gets run the fuck over. You understand?”
I finally got through to him. “All right,” he said, backing away a little as I let go of his shirt front. “You want the case, it’s yours.” He pointed over to a recessed storefront across from the Marriage Project offices. In the sheltered area a couple of uniforms were sitting at folding tables, taking statements from people in evening clothes. “You got some guys collecting over there. I got the street blocked off. I’ll leave all my paperwork on your desk. okay? Just don’t go crazy on me.”
I thought I heard him mutter the word “faggot” under his breath but I wasn’t sure. I said, “Yeah, right. Whatever,” and stalked over to Doc Takayama, who stood in consultation with a guy in a yellow fireproof jumpsuit. It was unzipped halfway down his chest, so I could see a white T-shirt and dark chest hair. Something about the hyper-masculinity of his fireman’s outfit gave me a little jolt. But I focused on Doc.
He looked at me with interest. “Didn’t expect to see you investigating, Kimo. I thought you were on the other side of this one.”
“Well, you could say I’ve got an inside perspective. This our illustrious Vice Mayor?”
Doc nodded and looked down. Wilson Shira’s head and shoulders were relatively undamaged, though smudged with smoke, though there was a place on the side of his head where the hair and skin had burned away, leaving an ugly piece of skull clearly visible. The rest of him, however, had not fared so well. His arms and torso were still recognizable, though blackened in places, while from the waist down he was a mere skeleton, just a few charred bones. It was obvious that extreme care had been taken to remove him from the fire.
Doc looked back up at me. “Kimo, you know Mike Riccardi from the Fire Department?”
The fireman stuck his hand out to me and I finally got a good look at him.
He was the handsome guy I’d seen the day before, in ballistics.
We shook, as Doc completed our introductions. “The detective’s reputation precedes him,” Riccardi said with a smile. “I got a whiff of some of his work Monday.”
He was a mixed-breed like me, a lot of haole and probably some Japanese or Korean in him, but he was movie-star handsome. He had a thick black mustache and wavy black hair that I was sure danced just short of any fire department regulations on length. I could not tell what color his eyes were, but there was a smudge of soot on his left cheek. I had a crazy impulse to wet my finger and reach over and clean him up, but fortunately I restrained myself. At that point, though, I couldn’t tell if the hammering in my heart and head were aftereffects of smoke inhalation, or if they came from looking at him-or from our hands touching when we exchanged business cards.
“So tell me what you think about the fire, Mike,” Doc said.
“Let me ask a few questions of the detective here,” he said, and there seemed to be a kind of condescension in his voice. It might have been that that I was still dressed in a grimy tuxedo and a pleated white shirt that was now torn and sooty, the ends of Gunter’s bow tie still dangling from my neck. I didn’t look like the cream of the Honolulu police department.