My Kind of Town
>> Makiki Heights
is no news
On the way to the living room, Sen. Donovan Matsuda Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka detoured past the fridge, grabbed his eighth longneck Bud of the evening. "You want one."
"Uh, no." Detective Sherlock Gomes could clearly see the senator was loaded to the gills. Probably on more than one thing. Beer alone sure won't make a guy that agitated and twitchy.
The senator weaved into the living room, Sherlock Gomes followed. Through the window far below, Honolulu city lights and a full moon competed for attention.
"Not bad," the senator said, plopping heavily into a big chair. "Have a seat."
"No thanks," the detective said, pulling a pen and notepad from the pocket of his aloha shirt. "Senator, I need to ask you about Serena Kawainui. She's a friend of yours?"
"I know her, sure."
"Her state ID lists this as her address."
The stupid little bimbo, Donovan thought. Well, this was her address. But still ... "I own this home."
In fact it was his secret hideaway, paid for with campaign funds, where he kept Serena in style, her only requirement to be ready for him at any time. Which she had not been since he woke up today. But a little honesty, he'd learned, could go a long way in hiding other truths. "Between me and you, she stays here."
>> Queen's Medical Center
"Yes, of course," the security guard said, buzzing them into the ER waiting room. "Mrs. Matsuo will be here in just a moment. Have a seat, please."
Another day, another reason, Grace and Sheets Ah Sun might have been more impressed with the new Queen's ER. But today they didn't notice the thoughtful colors, the comfortable couches and chairs, the art on the wall, the soothing music, even the colorful children's waiting room that played kiddie videos.
Today their thoughts were on their youngest son Lance, who was here in the ER with injuries that they could only guess at, and their guessing grew darker by the moment.
A middle-age haole lady approached them. "Mr. and Mrs. Ah Sun? I'm Lin Matsuo. Thank you for coming down."
"What happened to Lance?" Grace blurted.
"His condition has stabilized, that's the good news. Please come with me, we'll talk in my office."
Is there anything worse than waiting for bad news?
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be emailed at firstname.lastname@example.org