My Kind of Town
Evidence
>>All around town
Sheets Ah Sun, en route from the Honolulu Soap Co. on Democrat Street to Queen's, punched the Cadillac's radio button for KHPR as he turned onto the H-1 at Kalihi. He heard local news, but his mind was elsewhere. Not on his youngest son Lance, who lay in a coma at Queen's. Not on his wife Grace, who'd been at Lance's bedside for two days.
Not on the terrorist attack at Pearl Harbor. Not even on the sickening thought that his daughter Lily had reconnected with her cousin Quinn after 21 years apart. No, what was on Sheets' mind was his son Laird's graduation from Stanford Business. He'd be flying out in two days.
But then the magic words "illegal chemical dump site in Waimanalo" leaped from the radio and slapped Sheets back into the moment. The investigation of the just-discovered site was continuing, the report said. HPD and Department of Health officials said they were pleased with the evidence already recovered, but declined to be specific.
If they'd found them, wouldn't the officials, anxious to show progress, have mentioned human remains or an old .38?
>> Some women might have been angry that they'd been lied to. Some women might have felt like total suckers to fall for such a crock. And some, feeling betrayed, might have sworn to never speak to him again.
But not a woman as intelligent and patriotic as Fawn Nakamura.
When Chuck Ryan phoned her Makiki condo to say he was sorry, but he couldn't make dinner tonight after all, his client from the Philippines was taking longer than expected, Fawn said, "I know. I saw it on TV."
There was a long silence. The line could have gone dead. "Chuck?"
"I have a confession to make."
"I'm not a priest," she teased. "Not even Catholic."
"There's a reason I didn't tell you the truth."
"I figured it out. You were doing your job. And you didn't know me well enough."
"Yet." That day had been coming. "Now that you know the truth, I wouldn't blame you if you changed your mind about me."
"You're kidding, right?" She was starting to fall in love with him before -- he didn't mind that she was a virgin and vowed to remain so until her wedding night. And now, knowing that he was the man who caught the terrorist and foiled his plans, averting dozens of deaths, the starting part of falling in love was in the past. "I respect you so much, Chuck. I'd be very proud to be the one you want."
"I do." It would not be the last time he'd say those words to her.
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