My Kind of Town
>> Waikiki Gold Coast Dinner plans
When Machiavelli Wang and Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka had gone, Salvatore Innuendo turned off the pot of marinara simmering on the stove. Dinner would have to wait. He hated to kill on a full stomach. Besides, a man hunts better when he's hungry.
Innuendo crossed the condo, entered the walk-in closet, closed the door behind him, slid aside several shirts, punched in the combination of the wall safe's digital lock. The burnished steel door swung open, revealing his cache. He'd need something for long range, something for closer in, both with silencers. He withdrew the modified 9mm HK P7 squeeze cocker and the .308 HK PSG-1 semi-automatic. And a knife. And a mini blowgun with a quiver of five poison darts. Overkill, to be sure. Sherlock Gomes would die just once. But the way he died depended on a lot of things.
He lay his weapons and sub-sonic ammo in a satchel with black slacks, shirt and shoes, and went out to use the dark skills he'd learned so well at the Vatican Security Office.
>> 2002 Wilder
Fresh from the shower, Dr. Laurie Tang dabbed perfume in places she never had before. She'd read about this in one of the women's magazines. "Sexy Surprises That Will Drive Your Man Wild," or something like that. One tip was to place perfume in, well, unexpected places. She did, just in case Sherlock Gomes went exploring.
He'd be here soon. She pulled on a casually clingy floral print dress with spaghetti straps and headed for the kitchen to start dinner. She wanted to spend some time just talking when Sherlock arrived, and a chance to look into his eyes. Which is not a smart thing to do if you're chopping vegetables.
They'd start with a little wine, the Kendall-Jackson Riesling, and some sun-dried Greek olives. Finger-lickin' food. And some of her famous sun-dried tomato, capers, Maui onion and basil spread with seven-grain crackers. She hoped he'd want to come back for more. And then when they sat down to dinner, there would be Caesar salad. Any man who doesn't like the taste of anchovies is not a man worth having. And some George Foreman'd Cajun ahi and veggies.
And they needed some tunes, maybe Vangelis. Laurie was in the mood.
>> 16th Avenue
Another car, another day, HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes might have paid more attention to the dark blue Nissan parked four doors down from his home. Gomes was usually very aware of anything new on his block. But as he backed the '71 Barracuda out of the driveway, his thoughts were on Dr. Laurie Tang and the evening that lay ahead. So to speak.
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