My Kind of Town
>> North King
HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes found two mechanics working on broken-down TheBus No. 688 while its driver Myrtle Agena paced and smoked at the stop in front of Farrington High. She recognized Gomes' green Barracuda immediately.
"You was following me," she said when he flashed his badge, introduced himself. "Until the accident."
Which had knocked over an HPD van, incapacitated the driver and guard, and sent five prisoners scrambling to freedom. Gomes had rounded up three at the Capitol. "Not you personally," he said.
"Yeah yeah, I know, I got the message. The wahine dressed in black carrying the big backpack. She rides with me a lot, and there's something wrong with her, you know. She's lolo!"
"I figured." The Family Photo Burglar would have a screw or two loose and be at least a quart low. "Did you notice where she got off?"
"Right here," Myrtle said. "Everybody had to get off here."
"She went back the other way, the 'A' Express."
"You know her name?"
"She never talks. All I really know is that 4th Avenue is her regular stop. Must live in the apartments around there."
Gomes thanked Myrtle, gave her one of his cards, asked her to call him the next time she saw the lolo lady. Glancing at his watch, Gomes figured he could get back to 4th Avenue before the woman in black did.
"By the way, she knew you was following us. She kept looking back."
>> H-1, Ewa-bound
The handcuffed Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka was surrounded in this big SUV by four armed Hawaiians -- five if the driver was packing -- and they'd obviously pulled him from the overturned HPD van. But he didn't know these guys from Adam's uncle.
"Eh, no offense, but I think you got the wrong guy."
"No s---," the one in the passenger seat replied.
The senator gulped. "For real?"
"I no kid you, brah."
Oh, this was lovely. They had a well-planned operation, with news from inside HPD about who was being transported to OCCC. The older-model blue Bronco had run a red light on purpose, intentionally crashed into the HPD van. Then this SUV swooped in ... but unbeknownst to them, a last-minute change had been made in the passenger list.
"You mind my asking who I'm supposed to be?"
"I tell you, I have to kill you."
"Oh, never mind then."
"Hell, I might have to shoot you anyway."
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be e-mailed at firstname.lastname@example.org