Finally the phone rang and I pounced on it. “Kanapa‘aka, Waikiki station,” I said, hoping it would be Akoni.
Instead it was Thanh Nguyen from the special investigations section, with the results on the police lock. It was indeed the murder weapon; traces of blood and hair on it matched the victim. There were no clear prints, though, only smudges.
I had always assumed that once we found a suspect, my evidence would be added to what we had found. I’d be able to show that I was in the alley, that I’d seen the man drop Tommy’s body and take off in the Cherokee. But talking to Lieutenant Yumuri, I realized how tenuous my evidence would be, because I had made the 911 call anonymously. There was nothing but my fingerprint to prove I’d been in the alley at all.
Then I remembered the giraffe. Would he recognize me again? Would I recognize him? He could place me at the club at the right time, and he’d seen me go out the door.
I wasn’t sure if I felt better or worse. Each thing I had to do to prove my case was taking me one step farther out of the closet. And it assumed I’d be able to find the giraffe and that he could testify correctly.
The phone rang again. This time I answered, “Akoni?”
It was Uncle Chin. “Sorry, Uncle, I was expecting another call. Ni hao ma?” When I was really little Uncle Chin taught me a couple of Chinese phrases, and now they sprang up every time I talked to him.
“I am well. I ask questions about Tommy. Maybe you want come here sometime, find out answers.”
“My shift ends at four. I could come sometime after that.”
“Aunt Mei-Mei very happy you stay for dinner. Maybe your parents come too.”
How could I tell him my world was about to fall apart? “Sure,” I said. “But you and I will talk first.”
“Of course.”
When I hung up the phone rang again almost immediately. “Thank God,” I said, when I heard Akoni’s voice. “The lieutenant wants to see us both before the end of shift.”
“What’s up?”
I told him. “Shit, Kimo, I told you this was going to happen.”
“I’ll do what I can to keep you out of it.”
“Shit,” he said. “I’m on my way back.”
I shifted some papers around on my desk. I looked up every time the door opened, then looked back down. Two Japanese tourists came in with a complaint and needed a translator. I volunteered, more to pass the time than anything else, but all they really wanted was directions to the Kodak Hula Show.
While I was up, I looked at the little kiosk full of bus schedules by the front door, but couldn’t find one that went anywhere I wanted to go. Then I went back to my desk and stared at a poster announcing Citizen Anti-Crime Week for a while. It was pretty ugly, the HPD shield in a kind of burnt orange with a lot of text around it.
I straightened out a paper clip and then tried to bend it back into its original shape, but it wouldn’t go. I couldn’t get the same smooth curves, no matter how hard I tried. Finally Akoni got back from Honolulu Hale.
“Did you find anything interesting?” I said, as he put his folder down on his desk.
“Tell me again how this happened,” he said. “The lieutenant called you in to ask about our progress.”
I nodded. “I wanted it to sound like we were close to an arrest.” I told Akoni what Yumuri had said. “When I told him I had personal evidence, that I’d seen the guy dragging Tommy Pang’s body down the alley, he laughed.”
“He laughed?”
“Yup. He thought I was lying. I finally convinced him, and he wasn’t happy.”
“Shit,” Akoni said. “All right, let’s get this over with.”
We walked back to the lieutenant’s office, and this time he spoke mostly to Akoni. “Do you think you can wrap this up soon?”
“We’re making progress,” Akoni said.
“Progress!” Yumuri exploded. “Progress is a suspect behind bars! You don’t have shit, do you?” He paused, seemed to struggle to maintain his temper. “You have until Wednesday, end of shift,” Yumuri said. “I want results on this or I’ll have your asses. Is that understood?”
He looked at each of us. “Understood,” Akoni said.
“Understood,” I said.
“You are history,” Akoni said as we walked back to our desks. “Kiss your badge goodbye, sign up for the private security detail at the Ala Moana Mall.”
“Thanks for your support. You find out anything useful downtown?”
He shook his head. “Not a thing. I’m not giving up on the idea that there’s a dirty cop in this somewhere, but I still have my doubts about the son and his friend,” Akoni said. “After all, they’re the ones whose stories conflict.”
“I know. Wayne says they went to that bar by the Aloha Bowl, and Derek says they went up Mount Tantalus and parked.”
“Maybe they did both. Had a couple of beers, then went up the mountain to make out.” He shivered. “Thinking of those two parked together gives me the creeps.”
“Get over it,” I said. “All right, so tonight we check out the bar and see if they were really there.”
“I really don’t want to go to that place. Suppose somebody makes a pass at me? I don’t want anybody blowing in my ear.”
“Hold on a minute.” I picked up the phone and at the same time pulled Tim’s card out of my wallet. “Tim Ryan,” I said, when the receptionist answered. “Hey, Tim, it’s Kimo. Yeah? Good. Listen, I have to go out to a bar by the Aloha Bowl called the Boardwalk tonight, to show some pictures around and check out an alibi.” I listened. “Oh it is, is it? You want to go with me?” I laughed. “I promise. All right, I’ll pick you up around ten.”
“You’re off the hook,” I said when I hung up. “I’ve got a friend to go with me.”
“You’re not wasting any time, are you? That the guy who blew in your ear?”
“He’s a lawyer. I met him at Kuhio Beach Park.”
Akoni held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear about it.”
I gathered my stuff from my desk and packed up. “I’m going to see Uncle Chin now. He said he had some information about Tommy Pang.”
“We’ve got to get this solved,” Akoni said. “Or it’s both our asses.”
“I know,” I said, as I walked out of the station.
DINNER WITH FRIENDS
My parents were already at Uncle Chin’s house by the time I arrived, the four of them sitting out on the lanai chatting, surrounded by birds and flowers. “You know your father built this house,” Uncle Chin said, as I settled into a lounge chair across from him.
“I didn’t know that,” I said. “How long ago?”
“This was my first project on my own,” my father said. “Right after you were born, when I left Amfac and went on my own.” In my memory, my father had always had his own business, but I knew that at some time in the past he had worked for Amfac, one of Hawai‘i’s Big Five companies, as a construction superintendent.
“This was new area back then,” Uncle Chin said. “I bought many pieces land. Sold your father one where your house is.”
They kept on talking about the old days, when they were young men and the world stretched out before them like a treasure chest of riches waiting to be plundered. It was hard for me to concentrate, because I kept thinking about my own future. What would I do if I left the force? I was too old to be a professional surfer by then; I had let that chance pass me by when I fled the North Shore. Like Akoni suggested, I could become a private cop, working security details for fancy condos or Ala Moana Center. I could become a private detective, chasing down errant husbands and bogus slip-and-fall claims.
I looked at my father. He was still a handsome man, graying, distinguished. He had once had many powerful friends and connections, but his friends aged as he did, and consequently the business he had built, which had provided for us all for so many years, was fading away too. Maybe I could work with him, rejuvenate the business, become a minor tycoon like he was.