My Kind of Town
>> Queen's Medical Center The Honolulu Soap Co.:
Sunday digestDr. Laurie Tang checked the number on her pager and grimaced. Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka was the last person she wanted to talk to. But it had to happen sooner or later. She called him.
"Laurie, I've been missing you. Can I come over tonight?"
"You miss me?" she said incredulously. "I called your home, your office, your cell, left messages everywhere, and no answer for three days! And then comes the news that an ex-stripper crashes your car off the Keeaumoku Overpass!"
"It's not what you think ..."
"Here's what I think, Donovan: It's over."
"Please, I can explain. Let me just see you tonight."
"No, I have plans tonight. Good-bye, Donovan."
Hanging up, Laurie knew her mother would be disappointed. She was already making plans to move into Washington Place when Donovan was elected governor and Laurie became Hawaii's first lady.
Hawaii's voters have such short attention spans, Laurie figured that by November everything would be long-forgotten, and he would indeed become the state's next governor.
But Laurie didn't really care. For the first time in her life, she was driven by passion. Something had happened with HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes. Something like a spark that left her breathless.
>>Honolulu Soap Co.
Sheets Ah Sun called his son Laird in California.
"So how'd the last final go?"
"Hey, Dad! Piece of cake!"
"That's what happens when you're prepared." Armed with a masters degree from Stanford Business, Laird would now be prepared to take over the Honolulu Soap Co.
"Is everybody packed?"
"Well, that's why I called," Sheets replied. "Good news, bad news. It's your brother. He's not going to be able to make it for your graduation. And your mother says she's not leaving his side until he's better."
"What... what happened?!"
Sheets started to explain how Lance had been attacked during a rally at the Capitol .
"Lance? That doesn't make sense. He so unpolitical!"
"It was a rally in support of the hate crimes bill."
"Ah." That explained everything, proved Laird's suspicions that his brother was gay.
Sheets told Laird about Lance being attacked, falling and hitting his head on a curb, and how he'd been in a coma since.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"No sense distracting you during finals."
"I could have been praying for him." Laird, unknown to his father, had recently been converted after reading the book "Jesus Was A CEO - The Gospel of Acquisitions."
"The doctors are hopeful," Sheets continued.
"Is that the good news?"
"Well, yes, come to think of it. But there's more. Laird, I was going to announce this when we were all up there. But I can't wait, I have to tell you now." He took a deep breath. "I'm naming you president of the Soap Company, immediately!"
"Oh, uh, wow," was all Laird could quietly say.
>> Makiki Heights
So Laurie was having company tonight, Donovan thought. He was betting it was Gomes. Well, she would also have a surprise visitor.
>> Honolulu Soap Co.
When Sheets Ah Sun needed inspiration, he walked down to the production center. He watched his people making his soap and breathed deep the wonderful aroma of "the purest soap on Earth."
With enough soap, maybe he could wash away the stains from his past, the ones that Lily and his nephew Quinn were apparently intent on discovering.
But really, the kids could look up all the news stories in the world and never find the truth. No, what really worried Sheets was the illegal chemical dump site that had been discovered in Waimanalo. He'd driven past it earlier and nearly got sick to his stomach when he saw guys in space suits, digging up the pit and sifting through the excavated dirt and rocks.
Cops were there too. Charges could be filed, depending on what they found. More so now, Sheets wanted to turn the Soap Co. over to Laird soon and get it out of his hands, just in case they did dig up his secret.
>> Waimanalo
Dr. Wilton Pacheco of the City Medical Examiner's office was supposed to be taking a vacation day. Between long hours at work and the custody battle with his ex, he was drained. The plan was to do some fishing and suck back a few San Miguels.
But when he read the news about an illegal chemical dump site discovered in Waimanalo he had to take a look.
Pacheco parked his car on the side of the road. Pulling on a mask, he was glad to see that one of the guys in space suits was forensic biochemist Steve Tamura. They'd worked a few cases together before.
"Whadda we got?" Pacheco said.
"A lot of goo, some chunks."
Behind his mask Pacheco smiled. In his line of work, chunks were good.
>> Palo Alto, California
Laird should have felt a lot better.
For starters, he should have been rejoicing that he'd just aced his last final and was set to graduate with honors from Stanford Business.
But Laird was feeling nothing but turmoil. It started with the terrible news about Lance. The greatest turmoil, though, came from his father's announcement that he was naming Laird president of the Soap Co. Laird knew that one day he would probably take over for his dad.
He wanted to be a loyal son, but he also wanted to be his own man. And when he read "Jesus Was A CEO" it was a revelation, and he suddenly knew where his life was heading. And it wasn't making soap.
He suddenly felt the need to talk to his sister Lily. Maybe she could offer him some advice.
>> Honolulu Soap Co.
Lily Ah Sun smiled. As usual, her cut-throat lawyer Suzanna B. Balls had given excellent advice. The way her father had configured the Soap Co., taking over would not be difficult. Her father owned 40 percent, with Lily, her mother and two brothers each holding a 15 percent share. With Lance in a coma, Lily could grab his power of attorney. And that would give Lily 30 percent. She needed at least another 15 percent. And she had to do it in a hurry before Laird ruined everything.
The phone rang. She answered and nearly dropped the phone. "Oh my God, hi, Laird. Uh, what a surprise."
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