It made me want to nail something on Wayne Gallagher, but I couldn’t do it in a way that would hurt Jimmy Ah Wong even more than he’d already been hurt. That’s child abuse in my book, taking advantage of somebody young and scared. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll make sure he can’t hurt you anymore.”
We sat there for a few minutes, Jimmy resting against my shoulder, that improbable coxcomb of yellow hair in my face. It made me think about community policing, about how our job, at its heart, was to be out there among the citizens, protecting them from anyone who wanted to harm them, in any way. I’d thought for a while, while I was at the academy, about going to work in the school system, riding around in a patrol car protecting kids from drug dealers and child molesters and people who sped through school zones. Kind of like a Hawaiian J. D. Salinger, out there catching the kids in case they should fall.
Jimmy seemed to regain his composure, and sat up. I was about to get up and go meet Akoni when Jimmy said, “He had me do stuff.”
“I know. It’s all right.”
“Not that kind of stuff,” he said, wiping a hand across his face. “I mean, that stuff, too, but other stuff. My father’s a notary public, he has a seal he stamps on papers to testify that they’re legitimate. He keeps it in his drawer.”
I pulled out a pad and started to make notes. “Wayne would come by sometimes when he knew my father was out with Mr. Pang, that I would be there by myself. He’d bring these papers, and he’d make me get the seal out and stamp them, and then sign my father’s name.”
“Anything else?”
“Sometimes we got forms back from Customs about things they shipped, Derek and Wayne. I’d get the mail and keep them back from my father, give them to Wayne to handle. Sometimes he had me sign my father’s name to those too.”
He had stopped crying by then but there were still shiny places on his face that glistened in the hot afternoon sun. I had him go over as many dates as he could, remembering when Wayne had come to the store and what he’d had Jimmy do. “I don’t want my dad to get in trouble because of me,” he said when he’d finished. “I never should have done it.”
“Here’s a sad fact of life, Jimmy,” I said, sitting back on the bench. “Men will do almost anything for sex. Believe me, I’ve done a lot of stuff myself I’m not proud of. But sometimes you get so-sad and horny and I don’t know what-and all you want is somebody to be nice to you, to hold you. You do whatever you have to do to get that.”
“You’re really nice.”
“And I’m way too old for you,” I said. “You know there’s a center for gay teens on Waikiki, don’t you?”
“I could never go there,” he said, registering something like shock.
I nodded. “You could. And you should. There are people there, counselors, who can help you figure out everything you’re feeling.”
“What’s going to happen to my dad?”
“We’re not investigating anything other than who killed Tommy Pang,” I said. “If your dad didn’t kill him, you don’t have anything to worry about.”
He looked at his watch. “I better get back. He looks at my homework every day. If I don’t finish by supper he gets really mad.”
He stood up. “Thanks,” he said. Then he turned and headed back to the store.
As he walked away, Akoni pulled the Taurus up next to me. “Man, it’s hot today,” he said when I got in. “Must be ninety degrees. Days like today, you get a trade wind and it still doesn’t do any real good.”
I leaned my face down to the air conditioning vent and felt the cold air blast me. My polo shirt was soaked under the arms, and I could feel the tiny drops of sweat sliding down my back, but at least the cold Coke had done my throat a world of good.
As we drove back to the station, I told him what Jimmy had said. “So Derek and Wayne were much more involved in Tommy’s businesses than either of them let on,” Akoni said finally. He looked over at me. “What about the kid? He gonna be all right?”
“I told him to go to the center in Waikiki. Who knows, maybe it won’t take him another twenty or thirty years to figure it all out.”
Akoni nodded but didn’t say anything for a while.
LOBSTER DINNER
We went back to the station and worked for a while, and around six we headed for the Ward Warehouse, a complex of shops between downtown and Waikiki. It’s a mini-mall, two long lines of stores facing each other on two levels with parking in the middle. To me, it’s one of the least attractive shopping centers around-it looked like a child’s play set, girders bolted together, corrugated metal sheets painted clashing colors. The Lobster Garden was a touristy Chinese restaurant on the upper level.
The very sexy Chinese girl behind the podium wore an incongruous happy face nametag attached to the shoulder of her tight red cheongsam that read “Hi, I’m Treasure.” We showed her our ID and asked if we could talk to her.
“Here?”
“You could get us a table, and then come over when you get a break,” Akoni said.
“All right. Follow me.”
The centerpiece of the restaurant was a huge fish tank filled with live lobsters, their claws tightly banded together. Grandma and Grandpa from Des Moines could walk up to the tank with their waiter and decide which of the spiny creatures crawling around on the bottom of the tank would become that night’s dinner. It was a festive place, decorated with framed Chinese calligraphy and red paper lanterns, and it was lively, full of tourist families resting after a day’s trek to Pearl Harbor, the Kodak Hula Show, or Hilo Hattie’s aloha shirt factory.
Treasure seated us at a four-top in the back corner, where we could talk relatively undisturbed. “At six-thirty the second hostess comes on duty,” she said. “When she gets here I can take a few minutes break, but not much, because we get a big rush by seven.”
We ordered cashew chicken and shrimp in lobster sauce. “So you think we made any progress today?” I asked, after the waiter left.
Akoni shrugged. “Hard to say. We learned a lot about Tommy’s businesses, but not much about why anybody would want to kill him.”
“There’s that stuff going on at the pack and ship. Those boxes Wayne and Derek bring over. There could be something there.”
The waiter was back with big steaming bowls of won ton soup, and we dug in. We had just finished when I saw Treasure Chen approaching us.
Treasure came up to sit with us, and I couldn’t help noticing Akoni’s appreciative glance at her narrow waist and tight butt. It was interesting, though, that she made no impression on me beyond an aesthetic one. “I guess this is about Tommy,” she said.
“You knew him?”
She nodded. “I was his mistress for the last six months or so.” She paused. “That is, until he dumped me for that Mexican bitch.”
“Excuse me?”
“The night he was killed, I worked until ten, and he picked me up here. We went out to a club for a couple of hours, and that’s when he told me, he was seeing another woman. Had been seeing her, for a month or more by then. We had some words, and then I left him. Took a cab home. I don’t know where he went from there-probably to see her.”
“Do you know her name?” Akoni asked. “Anything about her?”
“He said her name was Luz Maria,” she said, running her right hand through her sleek black hair, cut bluntly so that it just brushed her shoulders. “She’s a Mexican woman he met through some business deal. I don’t know anything more about her.”
Akoni and I looked at each other.
She looked directly at me. “I didn’t want to know anything about his business. I know he owned Sally’s, that’s the place I was working when he met me, and he owned a couple of other things, but he didn’t talk about business with me and I didn’t ask him.”
“You worked at Sally’s?” I asked.
“She’s my auntie, Norma. I didn’t do anything but model. I’d worked there for a couple of months when I met Tommy, and he helped me get this job.”