Kaka’ako was in the middle of a transformation. The condo tower where Wayne and Derek lived dominated the neighborhood; on one side was Restaurant Row, a collection of twenty-some restaurants and a multiplex cinema, but on the other side was a derelict empty lot. There were low warehouses and parking lots all around. We parked at a meter on a side street and walked up to the condo, where we checked in with the doorman, then rode the elevator to the twentieth floor.
Gallagher answered the door. He was about six four, broad-shouldered, with sandy hair and a mustache. He probably weighed two-sixty, which was about thirty pounds too much for a man with his build. He was barefoot, wearing a black silk kimono embroidered with red dragons. His eyes were still sleepy and he hadn’t shaved or combed his hair yet. I thought he was incredibly sexy.
The thought jolted me and made me tongue-tied for a minute. Akoni introduced us and Gallagher led us into the living room, a large, white room with a white marble floor. There was a black leather sofa along one wall, and a big entertainment center with a large-screen TV and a fancy stereo system. Sliding glass doors led to a half-round balcony overlooking Waikiki, Diamond Head, and a vast expanse of Pacific Ocean. What dominated the room, though, was the art.
All four walls were hung with paintings. Some large, splashy colorful flowers, a couple of Jackson Pollock spatters, even a small Impressionist style piece in a heavy gilded frame. There were Chinese watercolors and what looked like South American primitives, as well as a large Hawaiian quilt on one wall that even I could tell was quite valuable.
The art wasn’t confined to the walls, either. In one corner was a brightly painted wooden chair, and around its base was a collection of wooden animals painted in clashing colors. A small pedestal held a glass-topped box with a few pieces of what looked like museum-quality, early Hawaiian artifacts. It was like walking into a gallery.
“I’ll get Derek,” Gallagher said. “He’s resting.”
“Perhaps we could talk to you first,” I said, regaining my voice.
“Sure.” He sat down on a black leather recliner catty-cornered to the sofa and motioned to us. “Have a seat.”
His arms and calves were lightly dusted with sandy blond hair. When he sat, the kimono fell away from his right thigh and I could almost see down to his crotch.
Get hold of yourself, I thought. “Let’s start chronologically,” I said. “Where were you Tuesday night, the night Tommy was murdered?”
“We were at the club for a while, the Rod and Reel Club. Derek was trying to convince his father to make me the manager.” He preened a little. “I’ve been working in bars and clubs for years. Worked my way through Yale as a bouncer, bartender and assistant manager.”
“Around what time was that?”
Wayne had to think for a minute. It was almost like he was running through his story and making sure he got the details straight. “I guess around midnight. Yeah, had to be around then, because we went off to another club after that.”
“Anyone else in the office when you were there?”
“Some guy who worked for Mr. Pang came over for a meeting. I don’t know his name. Mr. Pang had a lot of other businesses besides the club. He was an important guy.”
“Did he know about you and Derek?”
“You mean did he know we like to suck each other’s dicks?” He sat back in his chair and folded his arms in front of him. “We never talked about it. If he wanted to ignore it, then that was his business.”
“You and Derek knew each other in college?”
“Doesn’t your friend ever talk?” He looked at Akoni. “What are you, the strong, silent type?”
Akoni said, “I’ll talk when I have something to say.”
Gallagher turned back to me. The lapel of his robe had fallen open, exposing one pink nipple surrounded by dark blond hair. “We met sophomore year. We both lived in East Asia House. It’s a dorm, but they have special programs, Japanese culture, Pacific Rim cooking, world politics, that kind of thing. I was always interested in the Orient-my father was a businessman, and we lived in Japan for a year when I was a kid.”
I nodded. “You moved out here a couple of months ago, isn’t that right?”
He shifted position, closing his robe, tucking his right leg under him. “Derek had to get settled, see what things were like out here, before I could come out. He hadn’t really been home much since he went away to college.” He laughed. “He didn’t even know his dad owned a gay bar, can you believe it?”
“Do you recognize any of these names?” I handed Wayne the list we’d made up of known tong members.
Wayne shifted around a little in his chair and the black silk rode up on his thigh again. I was getting pretty annoyed at myself for noticing so much about him, but somehow I couldn’t help it. He read through the list, pausing once or twice. Finally he looked up and shook his head. “None of them ring a bell. Mr. Pang really wanted Derek to go legit, you know. He didn’t want to tell Derek about anything he did that was shady at all. I mean, we only knew about the bar because the office is in back there.”
He handed the list back to me. I looked down at my notes. “How about this ‘guy who worked for Mr. Pang.’ Do you have any idea who he was, what he was doing at the bar on Tuesday night?”
“I don’t know what made me think so, but I always thought the guy was a cop. Not in a uniform, but he kind of carried himself that way.”
“You ever been arrested?” Akoni asked.
“So you do talk,” Wayne said. “I know cops. Every bar I ever worked in, we had to call the cops now and then.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“I don’t like your tone,” Wayne said. “And I don’t think I want to answer that.”
“What was it?” Akoni asked. “You get caught sucking some guy off in the bus station? Maybe in a men’s room at Yale?” Akoni put a particular emphasis on the college name.
I could see Wayne was starting to get worked up, so I jumped in. “Look, that’s not important,” I said. “You said you went to another club after the Rod and Reel. Where’d you go?”
He was clearly making it up. “A bar out near the Aloha Bowl.”
“That far out?” I asked.
“It’s a gay club, the Boardwalk. An after hours kind of place.” He paused. “If Derek and I want to hang out, we can’t exactly do it at the bar his dad owns. Some dumb queen would have ratted us out in a heartbeat.”
“You see anybody you know at this place, the Boardwalk?”
He shook his head. “It’s pretty dark in there. We got a couple of beers and sat in the corner. I guess maybe we were there an hour or two.”
I was willing to bet no one at the bar could ID either of them.
Derek emerged from the bedroom then, looking freshly-showered, wearing black linen pants and a white t-shirt, his short black hair slicked back. He was about five seven, a hundred and fifty pounds. Behind wire-framed aviator glasses, his eyes were red. “You look like shit,” he said to Wayne. “That’s the way you come out and talk to people?”
“I didn’t have time,” Wayne said, with a little whining edge to his voice. “You were in the bathroom.”
“That’s never stopped you before.” He motioned to the bedroom with his thumb. “Put some clothes on.”
“I want to stay here with you.”
“That’s all right, Mr. Gallagher.” Akoni and I stood up to shake hands with Derek. “We won’t be too hard on him.”
Wayne tried to give Derek a look but Derek wasn’t having any of it. So Wayne got up, tightened his kimono, and strutted back to the bedroom. I have to admit I was a little sorry to see him go, and I hoped nobody noticed the way I watched his ass as he left.