My Kind of Town
>> Ala Moana Beach Park Calling all tilapia
Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka moved in for the kill. Just 20 yards away, HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes was thrashing around in waist-deep water, trying to swim. The moment Gomes came up for air, Donovan would blow into his shotgun snorkel. He was so close now, he couldn't miss with the last poison dart in the snorkel turned blow gun. And he couldn't dare miss, because Gomes would ruin everything, not only his relationship with Dr. Laurie Tang, but also Donovan's gubernatorial dreams.
>> Sherlock Gomes knew he looked ridiculous, flailing about in the shallow water, but he was determined to learn to swim. He'd have to do it another time, though. Dr. Laurie Tang would be back from her swim any moment, and he didn't want to look like a drowning idiot when she showed up. That's no way to go into an interview. And she looked so good in that high-hipped, electric blue swimsuit, he wanted to look his best.
Gomes began to stand up on the sandy bottom.
>> Dr. Laurie Tang was pushing now, the final 50-yard sprint to the beach at the end of her swim. Laurie felt so strong it was like she was swimming on top of the water, as if she was being pushed along by an unseen force. And she was.
Swimming with her eyes closed, Laurie felt herself being lifted out of the water. Laurie looked down, saw that she was riding on top of a small submarine. Maybe it was the boat's vibrations, but she felt at peace. She sat astride the sub, in the middle of a large red circle painted on the hull. Just 20 yards ahead she saw Sherlock Gomes among a dozen or so people in the water, and all but one was turning in amazement to look at her and the sub.
>> Gomes stood in waist-deep water, gasping for air, watching Dr. Laurie Tang rise from the sea astride what, at first, he thought was a whale. Which didn't make sense.
>> Donovan was so preoccupied with Gomes, he didn't notice the small submarine that was rising out of the water, bearing down on him. He blew into his shotgun snorkel, held his breath.
The poison dart sliced through the morning air.
The steel-tipped dart pinged harmlessly off the nose of a submarine that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
The sub stopped in the sand, blocking his view of Sherlock Gomes on the other side. Sitting astride the sub was Laurie.
Donovan turned away, yanked off his mask and snorkel, and retched into the water.
Calling all tilapia, calling all tilapia.
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