My Kind of Town
>> Ala Moana Beach Park Sharing a towel
This was more than just a damn cop asking questions. That much was obvious to Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka, watching from behind a row of monkeypod trees, wearing wrap-around shades and a Dodgers cap pulled down low. Something was going on here. How long had this been going on between his girlfriend Dr. Laurie Tang and HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes?
Laurie was toweling off after her shower, and Donovan could see in the way she watched Gomes shower that she was having carnal thoughts. Gomes stepped from the shower, realized he didn't have a towel. Donovan about choked when Laurie took her towel and draped it around Gomes' shoulders, from the front, her chest pressing into his for just a moment.
Donovan was right about one thing. Laurie was having carnal thoughts like she'd never known before. But Donovan was also wrong. Until moments ago, nothing had been going on between Laurie and Gomes. Donovan was doing what cheaters usually do: assume their partner is cheating too. The one who breaks the trust breaks it both ways. Then there was the paranoia induced by a three-day binge of smoking crystal methamphetamine. So based on a false assumption and lies of the smoke, Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka renewed his vow: Gomes must go.
Gomes quickly toweled off, handed the towel back to Laurie. She clutched it to her chest for a moment, then wrapped it around her waist.
"I still need to ask you some questions," he said.
"Of course." What a difference a submarine can make. Pre-submarine, Laurie was dreading answering questions about her relationship with Donovan. Now, post-sub, she was happy for any excuse to spend more time with Gomes. She hoped he'd keep his shirt off.
>> All these people were just gawkers, but Jimmy Ahuna had a relationship with this WWII-vintage Japanese mini-sub. The Pearl Harbor Shipyard retiree had seen it while thrownet fishing at Queen's Beach recently. Then this morning while it was still dark, Jimmy was setting up his brackets and poles along the seawall above the channel that leads from the open sea to the calm waters inside the reef when the sub slid past, then sank out of sight. Just now he'd seen it rise out of the sea with a girl in a blue swimsuit riding on top. Walking along the beach for a closer look at the sub, Jimmy heard a woman say his name. "Aloha, Jimmy."
Son of a gun. A brown-skinned woman, about 6 foot 2, was walking beside him, stark naked. "Aloha, Ho'ola. Where you been all my life?"
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