“I was so jealous of you,” he said. “You know I love Tatiana. I can’t imagine what my life would be like without her. But man, I used to see you with a different wahine every week, and it was like, I want to be there. Just let me be single one weekend, Lord. Let me have Kimo’s life for one weekend.”
I laughed. “Guess you don’t want it now.”
“So maybe I was mad because I was wrong about you, too,” he said. “I mean, here you were, living out my fantasy life, and then it turned out it was all a lie. It just kind of made me crazy.”
We had almost finished our beers when our father came up. “The landscaping looks good, Haoa,” he said. “You should be pau soon.”
Haoa nodded. He drained the last of his beer and said, “Got to get back.” He looked at me. “Take care, little brother.”
“You too.”
My father and I walked slowly back to his truck. “You saw your brother.”
I nodded. “We had a talk.”
“Good.”
“How about the job you’re bidding on?” I asked. “Did you get a look at it?”
“Nice job,” he said. “We can talk about it sometime.”
It was almost three o’clock by the time we got back to the office. I spent another hour or so on the electrical drawings, and then my father announced it was time to go home. “Benefit of being semi-retired,” he said. “You can make your own hours.” He looked at me. “Of course, if you were running this business for real, the hours are much longer. I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“I won’t,” I said.
In the newspaper that evening there was a further article on Evan Gonsalves’s death. They had found a fingerprint on the jewelry box that matched Tommy Pang’s, making a strong connection between the two of them. There was speculation that, as a cop, Evan couldn’t live with the idea that he’d killed Tommy, and killed himself over the guilt. I thought it was rotten that the story had to break the same day as Evan’s funeral, and hoped somebody was keeping the papers from Terri.
After dinner I called Akoni at home. Mealoha answered and we talked awkwardly for a minute, her asking how I was and me saying I was doing okay. “Hey, brah, howzit?” I asked when Akoni picked up the receiver.
“Okay,” he said. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m getting by. Yesterday I went shopping with my mother, and today I went to the office with my dad. I don’t know who’s going to get me tomorrow.”
“You’ll get through this.”
“I read about the fingerprint match in the Advertiser. You really think Evan could have killed himself out of guilt?”
“I don’t know. Shit, you were my partner for a long time and I didn’t know you. How’m I going to speculate on Evan Gonsalves? Hey, by the way. We got notification that the girl in that drug bust, Luz Maria, she went back to Mexico.”
“You ever get to interview her?”
“Nope. Just saw the paperwork. And you know there’s no way we’ll talk to her now. If she knew anything about Tommy Pang she took it back to Mexico with her.”
We said our goodbyes and hung up. I was edgy, worrying that my case was still going on and I couldn’t work on it. What was I going to do? I ought to go home, I supposed. There wouldn’t be anybody hanging around my doorway, and it was a step toward getting my life back together. It was something. I packed my suitcase and assembled all my equipment-the roller blades, surfboards, all the other stuff I’d brought.
I carried it downstairs, and walked into the living room, where my parents were watching TV. “I want to go home,” I said. “I think it’s time.”
My mother looked at my father, and he nodded. “Why don’t you take my truck,” he said. “Your mother can bring me by to pick it up tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I started for the door, then stopped and turned back around. “Thanks,” I said. “For everything.”
Then I turned back to the door and went out into the night.
WHAT HE LEFT BEHIND
I was happy to be back in my own apartment. It was the first step toward regaining a life of my own. Before we’d left, my mother had plugged the phone back in and turned on my answering machine, and the red light blinked furiously. I left it for the morning light and went to sleep.
I woke up refreshed, and felt even better after a good long morning on the waves. I came back to my apartment around ten and switched the answering machine to play while I fixed breakfast. Eating my father’s cooking had awakened in me a desire to return to the comfort foods of my youth, and I watched the eggs carefully to keep them runny, so they would soak into the toast.
Most of the messages were from reporters who wanted to talk to me. There was a call from Harry in there, from Friday, I guessed, before he’d figured out I was holed up at my parents’ house. The last two calls, unexpectedly, were from Terri Clark Gonsalves, and she sounded upset.
“I need to talk to you, Kimo,” she said. “About Evan. Please call me.”
The second message was more urgent, and then the answering machine kicked into automatic rewind. What did Terri want from me? I wondered, as I ate my soggy toast and eggs. Maybe I should have gone to the funeral after all. Did she think her friends were abandoning her because of the scandal over Evan?
I washed my dishes and called Terri. There was no answer, but I left a message on her machine, that I was back, that she could call me any time. I left her my cell number, too. I began putting away the things I’d taken to my parents, and then answering the mail, paying the bills, cleaning the apartment again.
There was a knock on the door. I walked up to the peephole and saw Terri.
She looked terrible. Her face was red and puffy, and she’d pulled her hair back into a hasty ponytail. She was wearing a navy t-shirt, white shorts and espadrilles. More than anything else, she looked sad, and beaten down.
She looked at me and started to cry again. “Oh, Kimo,” she said, and I took her in my arms and we rocked back and forth.
“I’m sorry, honey. I wish it could have come out any other way.” We separated and I led her to the couch. I went to the refrigerator for some juice, but all I had was a pog-a pineapple, orange and guava mix unique to Hawai‘i. I opened the pint carton and poured it into a glass for her.
“Have something to drink.” I handed her the glass, and she drank it thirstily.
“Remember we used to get these at school when we were kids?” she asked. “Always on field trips, too. Danny drinks them now.”
“I remember.” I sat on the couch next to her. “How’s Danny holding up?”
She looked like she was going to cry again, but she held herself back. “He’s not talking,” she said. “My mother’s with him now. He cries, and he stays in his room, but he doesn’t talk. I don’t think he’s said a word since Evan died.”
“Suicide can be pretty traumatic for a kid. You don’t know, he might have seen Evan do it, or at least heard the shot and seen the body.”
She looked up at me. “I just don’t believe Evan killed himself. I mean, we were getting over our problems. He looked better last week than he had in months. He was home more, he paid more attention to me and Danny.”
“I guess he’d been working for Tommy Pang,” I said. “When he killed Tommy, it was probably a big relief for him. So he would have felt better for a while, he could have been more relaxed.” I took a breath. “But killing somebody is a big deal. I could see how it could get to him after a while.”
“I’ve thought about that. Endless hours, all night long, I’ve wondered how Evan could have killed him, and I think I understand it.” She sat back on my sofa, dried her eyes with a tissue, and said, “I think I pushed him toward it. You know, how I told him he had to stop what he was doing. God knows I didn’t mean for him to kill anybody.”
I put my arm around her and she leaned her head against my shoulder. I could smell her perfume, something light and floral, and her hair was soft where it touched my bare arm. “You can’t think like that,” I said. “It wasn’t your fault. Evan got involved with Tommy Pang all by himself.”