My Kind of Town
>> Ala Moana Beach Park Eternity-kine
"I no can help that, bruddah," Jimmy Ahuna said. "An' you no can help that the goddess touched you. She blessed you, the two of you, together. She told me. Blessed you and your children."
HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes choked a fraction of a second before Dr. Laurie Tang did. This time, after a morning of meaningful glances, they were too embarrassed to share a look. Embarrassed, because Jimmy Ahuna's words cut to the silent, secret emotions that had been simmering in Gomes and Laurie here on the park bench they shared.
"That, I think," Gomes said, gathering himself, "is getting rather ahead of ourselves."
"Mr. Ahuna," Laurie said, ahem-hemming.
"Jimmy's OK."
"Thank you. Jimmy, you say this woman we saw inside the sub" -- the tall, brown, naked woman she and Gomes saw inside the WWII-vintage Japanese mini-sub that had just surfaced at the Diamond Head end of the park, kissing the head of the sub's lone occupant, which turned out to be a skeleton -- "is the goddess Ho'ola?"
"Ho'ola, goddess of life -- rescuer, healer, saver, preserver."
"And you say she does not reveal herself to everyone, just a few?"
"That's right."
"So why us?"
"And what is she rescuing or saving us from?"
"How you can ask questions like that? Brah, she's one goddess. She does what she wants. She sees the big picture. Eternity-kine."
Laurie and Gomes shared a look, and a shiver. They slid closer on the bench. Watching from behind a row of monkeypod trees, Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka was ready to scream. Or kill. It was so obvious something was going on between Laurie and Gomes. If things heated up any more on that bench, they'd be pawing at each other soon. Donovan was anxious to leave. He'd been up all night, plotting to kill Gomes, and then that damn submarine ruined everything. Now he needed either some sleep or to smoke some more ice. He was coming down, felt jittery, nervous. And angry.
Ah, but there! Gomes and Laurie were standing up, shaking hands with the old fut talking to them, turning and walking toward the Magic Island parking lot. Good, this is what Donovan was waiting for, to see Gomes' car and get the license number.
But Donovan didn't like how they walked. Too close together. Laurie reaching out as she spoke, touching Gomes' arm. Looking up at him, smiling. Yes, Gomes had to go, now more than ever.
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