My Kind of Town

by Don Chapman

Thursday, July 26, 2001

Mick the knife

>> Executive Center

"No!" Van Truong said when her friend Nikki at work suggested signing up for an Internet singles club. "It's all those weirdos!"

But Nikki wrote down the Internet address and told her to check it out. That night, after a long day in the ER, the loneliness began to come over her again, as it always did when the sun went down. Well, Nikki said it was all anonymous. Van typed in the address on her home computer, clicked "search" and held her breath, wondering where this might lead.

>> Portlock

"You just rest there, OK, Elizabeth?" Lily Ah Sun said. "And help yourself to the Popsicles in the freezer. They'll make your sore throat feel better and cool you down too. I'm going to show Quinn around."

"Nice to meet you, Quinn," the 6-year-old said, displaying the perfect manners that Lily had taught her, and which made her even cuter. But then youthful enthusiasm and honesty leapfrogged perfect manners. "Are you going to come back again?"

Quinn blushed. God, he wanted to be asked back to Lily's home. She was his cousin, sure, but when he'd first pulled her over for speeding today, before he looked at her license, they shared a moment, a gaze that lingered, and both knew that this was exactly what they'd each been waiting for their whole lives. Just minutes ago at Maunalua Bay they let their passions get the better of them, and they shared a long kiss that tingled his lips still. Quinn knew they must never do it again, but he also did not want to go another 21 years without seeing Lily again.

"Absolutely, Elizabeth," Lily said and smiled warmly at her cousin. "You'll get to know Uncle Quinn much better. Now, you just rest. I want to introduce Quinn to your Mama."

>> Straddling Rosalita on the bed, pinning the tiny Filipina maid's arms to her sides with his legs, Mickey held the gun to her head with one hand. In the other was the big butcher knife he'd taken from the kitchen earlier. He used it to rip open her white blouse with a violent upward slash, and grinned down at her maliciously. Rosalita was so terrified, she could hardly breathe. All she could think was, why did I sharpen the kitchen knives yesterday?

Next was her white bra. Breathing like a rutting boar, he wedged the gleaming 12-inch blade between white lace and brown skin and sliced open the center clasp, exposing her breasts.

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

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