My Kind of Town
>> Keeaumoku Street Why call attention?
Lily had to see it for herself, and got there just in time to watch the mangled remains of Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop Kamaka's yellow Town Car getting winched onto a flatbed truck. Lily had been so wrapped up at work she hadn't heard who was inside the car when it plunged off the Keeaumoku Overpass, landed on its nose and rolled over, coming to rest on its roof halfway down the first base line. All of Hawaii wanted to know the senator's fate, Lily more than most since her mother was his secretary.
On Lily's radio, the final strains of Iz singing "Wonderful World" faded and KINE's Noe Tanigawa cut in: "Here's the news we've all been waiting for. Police have just confirmed that Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka was not in his car when it went over the Keeaumoku Overpass. The lone occupant was a single female who remains unidentified at this time. She suffered multiple injuries, including a broken arm ..."
"Tell 'em the res'!'" Frankie chirped.
"Don't leave out the good part," Brickwood chimed in.
"Well, it is news," Noe said, "given the senator's expected run for governor next year. But if you have children listening ... Police have also confirmed that drug paraphernalia was found inside the car and that the young woman was stark naked when the car crashed."
"Happy Lay Day" said Frankie.
But where was Donovan?
>> Honolulu Soap Co.
The phone rang barely 30 seconds after the radio reported the Board of Water discovery that a Waimanalo well was contaminated with various pollutants. The phone went quiet, then rang again. The secret code Sheets Ah Sun and his younger brother Mits used when they had to speak. A code necessary when they concocted a feud 21 years ago.
"What the hell is going on?" said Sheets.
"You heard, eh? Got me. News didn't say where in Waimanalo."
"Can you check?"
"Of course I can, but I won't. Why call attention?" said Mits. "Somebody going wonder why a Pearl City cop is interested in an illegal dump site in Waimanalo."
"Mm."
"Sheets, I telling you, same thing true now like it was then. What's done is done. If somebody going find evidence now -- I don't think so, but still yet -- if they going find it, they going find it. Nothing you can do. Too late already."
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin.
He can be emailed at dchapman@midweek.com