“I took it to a jeweler on Fort Street and had it appraised today. He told me it was worth five thousand dollars.”
“Wow.”
“Evan doesn’t make that kind of money,” she said. “I know.” She waved her hand around to encompass the living room, the house. “He’d kill me for telling you, but we don’t live on his income. I have a trust fund, and even though Evan hates it, we use that money to pay most of our bills.”
“Maybe he’s been saving his money. You know, putting away a little each week so that he could buy you something special.”
“I don’t want money from him, or expensive jewelry. I can’t convince him of that.” She paused. “Besides, his paycheck gets deposited automatically. It goes into our joint checking account, and he never makes big withdrawals.”
“He could be doing private security work somewhere. Maybe sometime when he says he’s working late, he’s actually on duty for somebody else.”
She shook her head. “I know him. And I don’t mean to say that I’m checking up on him, but sometimes I have to call him when he’s working late, and he’s at his desk.”
“So where do you think he got the money for the bracelet?”
She put her hand to her mouth, and looked away. A minute later she looked back. “I don’t know, I think maybe… I think maybe he’s taking bribes.”
I sat back. “Whoa, Terri, that’s a serious accusation to make. Evan could lose his job just over the scandal. Do you have any evidence-I mean, beyond the bracelet?”
She shook her head. “I was hoping you could help me find out. Unofficially, of course. Then I could confront him and make him stop.”
“This is a bad idea, Terri. Remember, I’m a cop too. If I find evidence of a crime, I’m morally obligated to report it. That would mean I’d be snitching on a fellow cop, which is one of the worst things a cop can do.”
“I didn’t realize it would put you in such a bad position.”
“If you have suspicions about Evan, you need to talk to him about them.”
“I can’t, not without evidence,” she said. “What if I’m wrong? What if there’s a logical explanation for this?” She waved the bracelet at me again.
I drank the last of my scotch and she offered me another. While she fixed it I tried to think about what she should do. When she handed the glass back to me I said, “I’m no expert on relationships between husbands and wives, but it seems to me you guys need to talk to each other more. You have to find some way to tell him you don’t want the bracelet, and get him to take it back.”
“It’s not just the bracelet. It’s a lot of little things. We’ll go to dinner, and Evan will insist on an expensive restaurant. Then he’ll pay the bill in cash. Or he’ll bring me flowers from a fancy store and I’ll never see the bill. He’s getting extra money from somewhere, and I’m so scared I don’t know what to do about it.” She started to cry a little, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
“I can’t do anything for you, Terri. Officially or unofficially. It’s not unheard of for cops to be on the take. Evan’s a prime candidate, living like this on his salary. It’s got to make him feel bad. You don’t want to have to move out to a duplex in ’Aiea just to be able to live on a cop’s salary, not when you don’t have to. But let’s face it, you’re accustomed to living well, and Evan is going to do whatever he can to make you happy. If he thinks you want a richer husband, he’ll try and make himself that person.”
“Mommy?”
We were both startled. We turned simultaneously and saw Danny standing at the edge of the living room in his pajamas. “Can I have a glass of water?”
“Of course, darling.” She stuffed the tissue in the pocket of her dress and stood up. “You remember Uncle Kimo, don’t you?”
Danny nodded. I usually got out to Terri and Evan’s every couple of months, and Danny and I always spent a little time hanging out. Like my nieces and nephews, and most of the island kids, he was mad for pogs-paper disks that originally came from milk bottles, but now were given out by every island business as a promotional tool. Kids loved to flip them, trading them back and forth based on how they landed.
“I’ll let myself out,” I said. “I wish I could do more for you.”
“I understand.”
I stood in the velvety darkness of her driveway for a minute before getting into my truck. Looking out toward the ocean, I could see the vast compass of stars. There was a slight scent of jasmine and new-cut grass in the air, and I could hear distant traffic and the slight rustle of a lizard in the underbrush.
There are always days like this, but that doesn’t make them any easier. I couldn’t help Tommy Pang, and I couldn’t help Terri Gonsalves or her husband Evan, a nice guy who had probably already started down the wrong road. Hell, who was I kidding? I couldn’t even face my own demons, no less help someone else with hers.
I got into my truck and drove back to Waikiki.
LINGERIE AND GENTLEMEN’S ITEMS
Tuesday morning, Lieutenant Yumuri called Akoni and me both into his office. He’s full Japanese, only about five-seven, and all business. “Where are we on this murder?” he asked.
We gave him the rundown, walking through everything we had done, the interviews, the tong research, the discovery of the murder weapon. We told him our plan to start tracking down the people in Tommy’s address book that day.
“You’ve done all that, but you don’t have any suspects?” he asked. “Go back to investigation 101, gentlemen. Who benefits from the crime?”
Akoni and I looked at each other. I said, “The wife inherits everything. But I’ll bet the son and his boyfriend take over the Rod and Reel Club.”
“Boyfriend?” Yumuri asked. “Figures. The guy was found behind a fag bar, after all. Those queens are always mixing it up, sticking bottles up their boyfriends’ butts, clawing each other with their fingernails.” He made a limp-wristed gesture.
Yumuri had been a homophobe as long as I’d worked for him, but it hadn’t bothered me before. I didn’t say anything, and I didn’t dare look at Akoni either.
Yumuri thought for a minute. “You’re doing good,” he said, finally. “Wrap it up as soon as you can. Murders are bad for tourism, you know. If we let this go I’ll have every hotel manager on Waikiki on my back.”
Akoni and I went back to our desks. “Let’s take a look at that address book,” he said, and I pulled out the printouts. There were records on a couple of businesses Tommy owned besides the Rod and Reel Club, including a lingerie shop in Chinatown that we were pretty sure was a front for prostitution. Live models would stroll around the store in their underwear, and for a fee you could take one into a back room and examine the merchandise more closely. Vice had closed the place down once or twice but they hadn’t been able to make any charges stick.
He also owned a pack and ship place that specialized in sending goods to and from mainland China. They did a big business in relocation of ancestral bones, and it seemed like it was all legit. Chinese have a big thing for ancestor worship, and it’s important that the graves of their dead relatives be maintained properly, that the right prayers are said and the right offerings made. As Chinese emigres become successful and settled in the US, one of the things they do is arrange for the remains of their ancestors to be brought to the US for re-interment, where they can visit more frequently, and don’t have to depend on a Communist government that might interfere with their observances.
“I’d say these two places give us a good head start,” Akoni said. “Which one you want to start with?”
We decided to do some more research before calling anybody. I gave him the lingerie shop and took the pack and ship for myself, and we spent the time until lunch on the phone, finding out as much information as we could on Tommy Pang’s business life. Akoni made an appointment for us to go out to the lingerie shop and interview the manager, so we decided to get lunch in Chinatown. We found a parking space on Pauahi Street, named for one of the royal families of Hawai’i, and ended up eating at a place on North King across the street from the lingerie shop, called Sally’s.