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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
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>> Kona
"And now, the news of Hawaii with Kirk Matthews."
"This just in," the morning anchor said. "Honolulu police are reporting that a Boogie Boarder was fatally attacked by a shark at Makua this morning. The name of the victim has not released, pending notification of family. Witnesses say the shark mauled the young man, striking him repeatedly."
Matthews was a veteran journalist, but this one got to him. He took a deep breath. "This is the third confirmed fatal shark attack on humans in the past two weeks in Hawaii."
Daren smiled. He was including him among the dead. He couldn't have written a better script. This one gave his disappearance more credence. Across the water, he heard the sound of the dinghy engine firing to life. Through the porthole, he saw Sonya, dressed in a black suit with a black hat and veil, heading to his memorial service. He had to give her credit, she mourned well.
"In other news, the luxury yacht owned by infamous publisher Cue Garbanzo has been missing for several days. The boat, Pet Shop, is normally anchored at the Ala Wai Yacht Club. Garbanzo said his longtime captain, Paul van Bricken, was taking a new crew member for a training run. Police are asking for the public's assistance in finding the yacht. It shouldn't be too tough to spot -- the sails are bright pink."
Daren's smile vaporized. They were actively looking for this boat now. Cops. Coast Guard. Even the damn Navy, probably. And they were the least of worries. Boaters, by nature, were a nosy lot. Anybody and everybody with a rudder in the water would be keeping an eye out for Pet Shop. He was keeping the pink sails and life rings out of sight, and he'd renamed the boat Wet Spot, but it was only a matter of time until some weekend sailor recognized the boat and made a call.
Now he couldn't afford any more sitting and waiting. He had to put his plan in motion. He couldn't wait for Sonya. Risky as it was, he had to speak with her directly, and soon. He would be attending his own memorial service, and pulled on the blue blazer and white slacks. The finishing touch was the white wig, one of several he'd found aboard. He wondered if the publisher wore them or his dates. He looked in the mirror and didn't recognize himself. Dark glasses and white gloves completed the disguise. He sure didn't look like Daren Guy to him. But if Daren was dead, who was he now?
The radio beeped then, and he heard what was becoming a familiar Asian-accented voice. This time Sushi LeClair was almost whining. But he said the magic word -- "girls" -- and Daren answered.
And his plan changed again.
See the Columnists section for some past articles.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com
