“One thing, I’m wondering if this is tied to the arsons lately. I’m going to get with the fire investigator again, see if he’s found any connections. A couple of the places that burned were gay businesses, so they could have been done by the same people.”
“Solve this one, Kimo,” he said as he walked away. “Solve this one fast, or it’s both our asses on the line.”
“Yes, sir,” I muttered. I called for one of the department sketch artists, and a little later a guy came up to my desk so I could try to recreate the sweaty guy’s face. I didn’t do a very good job of it; after all, I’d only seen the guy in passing, and it was just because he seemed familiar that I paid any attention at all.
The morning crawled by. I left a message for Mike Riccardi, asking if he thought the bombing was related to the other gay arsons. I read eyewitness reports in between reviewing the artist’s sketch, dodging calls from the press, and searching for past crimes that might be similar. By noon I was antsy to get away from my desk, to feel like I was actually doing something. I decided to walk over to The Queen’s Medical Center, check on my dad, and see if anybody there could help me.
At the front desk I found out that Robert and Gunter were sharing a room, down the hall from Sandra Guarino. The clerk gave me a funny, knowing look, and I remembered what it had been like before, when it seemed everybody in Honolulu was looking at me, puzzling over the details of my private life.
Robert was asleep in the bed by the window when I walked into the room, but Gunter was awake. He looked funny against the white sheets, his dark blond hair so short it was barely there. The stubble on his chin was the same color, and almost as long. The pale green hospital gown definitely wasn’t his color.
I remembered that I still had his bow tie, and I told him. “You can keep it for a while,” he said. “Though I’ll have to teach you how to tie it.”
“You’ll have to do that.” I sat on the side of his bed. “How are you doing?”
He shrugged. “Not too bad. I’ve got some second degree burns on my arms and legs.” He coughed. “Some smoke inhalation, too, they said. But I’ll probably get out of here today.”
“You have somebody to stay with you at home?”
He smiled. “Baby, I’ve always got somebody to stay with me.”
“So you know what happened, right? Somebody planted a bomb in the men’s room.”
“I read the morning paper, Mr. Hero. I notice that even though I carried Robert over there out of the fire, I didn’t get my picture on the front page.”
“Believe me, I wish it had been you rather than me. Did you see anything suspicious, any time during the party? Anybody who looked like they didn’t belong?”
“You mean somebody who might have planted a bomb?” He paused, playing with a loose thread on his hospital gown. “Well, there was this one guy I remember.” I must have smiled, because he said, “Don’t look like that. I remember guys for more than one reason. I mean, one reason the most, but I can think about things besides sex.” I grinned even more and he said, “If you don’t want to hear this you can just go on back to your police station.”
“I want to hear it, Gunter. I’ll be serious.”
“Yeah, right. Just before the speaker started, I helped Robert carry some plants in from the lanai, and I needed to wash my hands. I went into the restroom, and when I came out, there was a line, a couple of people wanting to get things taken care of before they sat down.”
He coughed a little, and I felt like a jackass pressuring him to remember and talk when he was in the hospital. But there was no way around it. Once he’d gotten his breath back, he continued.
“There was this guy at the very end of the line,” Gunter said. “He was all sweaty, his hair plastered down over his head, looking like he was going to be sick. But when Charlie Stahl tried to get behind him, the guy insisted that Stahl go first.”
He took a little sip of water. “That was when I got a good look at his face. I see it sometimes on guys at the Rod and Reel Club. You, maybe, that first night I saw you. This look that says you want so much to be a part of what’s going on but you’re dead scared.”
“So you’re saying this guy was gay.”
“I don’t know for certain. Curious, absolutely. But you know how these bi guys are. They’re on a seesaw, one day it’s boys, one day it’s girls, up and down, up and down. Never make up their mind.”
“Do you think you’d recognize him if you saw him again?”
He frowned. “Not sure. The look, I’d recognize the look again. I could give you a general description of him. I can tell you one thing-I’d bet you a blow job he was wearing a rented tuxedo.”
“That’s a bet you can’t lose, either way. What makes you think so?”
“Darling, I know how clothes are supposed to fit. If he owned that tux then the store that sold it to him ought to be fire-bombed.” He suddenly realized what he had said. “Oh, well, that’s an expression I’m going to have to retire.”
“I’ll send over a police artist this afternoon. I think I saw a guy like the one you’re describing; we’ll see if your sketch matches mine.”
Gunter sank back against the pillows and feigned great illness. “I suppose I can rise from my sickbed to help the police with their inquiries.” Then he sat up and looked at me slyly. “This artist you’re going to send. Is he cute?”
“He’s fifty years old, with a pot belly,” I said, smiling. “I’ll let you decide if he’s cute or not.”
He flopped back against the pillows. “Oh, you.”
I was about to move over to speak with Robert when Harry came in, wearing a faded T-shirt from a long-ago surf competition. He looked ready to speak, and then he yawned instead. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “We didn’t get much sleep last night. They wanted to keep Brandon overnight for observation, and Arleen wanted to stay with him. So of course I stayed, too.”
I noticed that Gunter had dozed off, so I motioned Harry over to Robert’s side of the room and we pulled the two chairs together so we could talk quietly. Robert was still sleeping, too, his breathing steady but raspy. I noticed he had bandages around both arms and legs, as well as on his face.
“How’s Brandon doing?”
Harry yawned again and settled back against the plastic cushions. “Arleen’s mom came down and they took him home a little while ago. I said I’d come up and check on Robert and then head home for some sleep.” He looked closely at me. “You look like shit, brah. You get any sleep last night?”
I yawned. “Now you’ve got me doing it. Yeah, I got a couple of hours. Tried to surf in the morning but I got a burn on my back and it hurt like a bastard.”
“Idiot.” He started to smile but it stretched into a yawn again. “You know anything about what happened yet?”
“A little.” I told him about walking the fire with Mike Riccardi, about the witness statements and press phone calls. “I was hoping Robert would be awake so I could ask him some questions.”
“Slow down,” Harry said. “Tell me about this fireman again.”
I must have blushed because he said, “Aha! I knew it. You dog, you. You’ve got the hots for the fireman!”
“Har-ree.” I shrugged. “So I think he’s cute. I don’t know if anything’s going to happen. I’ve got to figure out this case.”
“Can I do anything to help?” He yawned again. “That is, after I get a little sleep?”
“You could. I need to find out as much as I can about the groups that are opposing the gay marriage lawsuit, and I don’t see myself having much time for research. Can you do some of that for me?”
“I’ll bet there’s a lot of stuff on the Internet,” Harry said. “I can narrow down the materials for you.”
“That’d be great.”
We heard a groan from the bed and turned to Robert. He was just waking up. He tried to talk, but started coughing. Harry jumped up and gave him the oxygen mask and said, “Here, try this.”