My Kind of Town
>> Makiki Heights Wishful thinking
Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka was quite a picture. Disheveled, hair matted, dull red eyes that called further attention to the dark circles below them. Drunk. Loaded on ice. Hugging himself, foot nervously shaking a hundred miles an hour. Not what HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes expected when he came here. This was the address for Serena Kawainui, the young woman who had crashed the senator's car off the Keeaumoku Overpass this morning. Gomes expected her family, maybe a roommate, not the Democrats' best hope in 2002.
"Senator, do you know any of Ms. Kawainui's next of kin we ought to to notify?"
"Is she dead?" That would solve so many problems, especially her pregnancy.
The senator's reply sounded just a tad too hopeful for Gomes, it being the first time he'd inquired about her health. "Nope. Couple of broken arms, a faceful of glass from a Cuervo Gold bottle, and head injuries. But the docs say she'll make it. Senator, I asked about next of kin."
"Uh, no, not that I know of. She grew up in foster homes."
Gomes wrote that down in his notepad. "What about an employer?"
When he met her, Serena was stripping at Rock-za. "She doesn't really work any more."
"I see." A kept woman.
"Now, senator, about the glass pipe on the corner table over there. We have a problem."
And Gomes had a moral dilemma.
>> Portlock
"Nothing? No outstandings? OK, thanks Gwen." HPD Officer Quinn Ah Sun shrugged, clicked off the cell call before the dispatcher who had the hots for him could make any other lewd comments about certain parts of her anatomy and what Quinn could do there. Damn, he'd have bet cash money that running the plates of the faded gray sedan would turn up something.
But that still didn't answer the question of why it was parked two doors down from his cousin Lily's home. Quinn was raised Buddhist and did not believe in coincidences. And this was definitely the same car he'd seen following Lily onto the H-1 this morning.
"What's going on, Quinn?" Lily sounded concerned.
"Something about that car. But hey, let's get those Popsicles inside before we melt another batch."
"You want to park in the driveway?"
"Naw, here's fine." If his worst fears were correct, Quinn didn't want to park in the driveway and announce too soon that Lily was coming home.
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