My Kind of Town

by Don Chapman

Wednesday, December 12, 2001

Scared spitless

>> Ala Moana Beach Park

Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka was scared spitless as he jumped on the moped. Damn, that woman was huge! Like some Hawaiian Amazon, 6-foot-4, 250 easy! And she was after him! What did she want with him? She'd first approached him on the beach. He was just coming out of the water after his failed attempt to kill HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes with poison darts, all because of that damn submarine. Donovan was terrified of her, grabbed his backpack and ran. She could have torn him in two! Keying the ignition, he glanced back. She was walking after him, beckoning, calling his name! The senator sped away.

It wasn't the first time that a man had failed to recognize exactly the woman he needed most in the world. So instead of finding peace and comfort he ran away, fast and far.

Ho'ola, goddess of life, was neither rebuffed nor surprised. She offered life, healing, restoration. She came to save, but could not force it upon any human. Ho'ola did not twist arms. She was not jealous. That's what made her a goddess.

>> Three-way phone call

Fawn Nakamoto seldom involved her sister Shauny or their best friend Lily Ah Sun in her religion. She might speak of events at church, the Full Faith Fellowship, which comprised both her social and professional lives -- she was the church's office manager. But Fawn wasn't actively trying to convert them. She just hoped and prayed that one day they would see the light in her, the light of True Life, and confess and convert.

But this was too much! Lily kissing her first cousin? And Shauny saying it's OK because the Koran says its OK? It was blasphemy or treason or something! It was all Fawn could do to say, "Oh wow, I didn't notice how late it is! Gotta go! Love ya!"

"Love ya!" they echoed.

And she did love those two. That's why she prayed for them.

While she was at it, she also said a little prayer for Chuck Ryan, that he was safe and the business meetings he'd mentioned would go well today and, please please please, please have him call me today. God as message service.

>> Ala Moana Beach Park

Lt. Col. Chuck Ryan, Navy intelligence officer, patted the red circle painted on the hull of the WWII-vintage Japanese mini-sub that had beached itself at the Diamond Head end of the park. He stepped back, then vaulted up onto the sub.

Not bad for an old guy, HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes thought, watching from the beach. Gomes wanted to see the Navy spook's reaction when he looked inside the sub's hatch. This should be good.

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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