My Kind of Town
>> 2002 Wilder The meaning of courage
When the ringing phone roused Dr. Laurie Tang from a light sleep, it seemed she'd only been out a couple of minutes. Checking the clock, she was right. Seven minutes. "H'lo."
"I'm sorry to disturb you," a deep, resonant male voice said. A local accent, hints of pidgin, but dignified. "This is Detective Sherlock Gomes."
"Detective Gomes, yes. I got your message and I don't really know anything about Donovan. You've just woken me, and I have to work tomorrow. If you have any other questions, I'll be at Ala Moana Beach Park tomorrow morning to swim. Diamond Head end, 6:30."
"You're a swimmer?"
"Yes."
"Shoots, that's perfect. I'm training for a triathlon. I'll see you at 6:30 tomorrow morning."
>> Portlock
Face to face in the shimmering light of a tiki torch, the sound of a stream running, the sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine filling their noses, first cousins Lily and Quinn Ah Sun looked into one another's eyes, and remembered the kiss they had shared just minutes ago at Maunalua Bay.
Remembered the thrill. Remembered knowing that this feeling was exactly what they had each always wanted.
"Oh, Lily, you're ..." Quinn stopped, gathered his thoughts. "I started to say that you're such a temptation. But it's more than that."
Lily took a deep breath. "Oh, I know, Quinn. I know."
>> Rosalita Resurreccion lay perfectly still as the intruder slid the gleaming blade of a butcher knife, that Rosalita herself had sharpened just yesterday, down her pubic bone between white cotton panties and brown skin. Rosalita knew what the intruder was going to do when he had her totally naked, and she knew what she must do. Filipinos may not be the biggest or strongest people, but there are no braver people. Filipinos fought off the Spanish, the Americans, the Japanese for their independence. It's a national trait of the Pinoy, courage. Rosalita might die, but she would not die a coward.
Mickey felt the maid's muscles tense beneath his weight. He leaned harder on her chest and arms, pinning her there. Again he waved the .22 pistol in her face. "One peep," he whispered anxiously. "One little peep and ..." He pressed the barrel of the gun roughly into her nose. It hurt, as only a nose can.
Rosalita heard the rip of fabric, heard Mickey gasp at the wonder of what he had uncovered, heard herself begin to scream and scream and...
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 dchapman@midweek.com