My Kind of Town
>> Makiki Heights Drive The Honolulu Soap Co.:
Sunday digestMachiavelli Wang first took note of young Donovan Matsuda when he was elected to the school board. Fresh out of UH, he was bright, good-looking, well-spoken. Machiavelli made a point of chatting up the young board member at a Waihee fund-raiser back in 1990.
Machiavelli invited Donovan for lunch and told him to think about a career in politics. He offered his services as unofficial campaign manager, gratis.
"Stick with me, kid, sky's the limit," he actually said.
Donovan believed him.
It was Machiavelli who suggested Donovan add his mother's maiden name to his surname, and he was easily elected to the House as Donovan Matsuda-Yee. Looking ahead to a run for the senate in two years, Machiavelli persuaded Donovan to become Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka. A man of many constituencies, he was elected to the state senate on his first try.
And now that the governorship was within their grasp Machiavelli would be damned if he'd let it slip away. In 13 hours, HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes would be coming for the senator, forcing him to go to a rehab clinic on the mainland. Gomes had to be stopped. It was time to call a professional.
>> Queen's Medical Center
Lily Ah Sun saw calamity coming.
"Hey, Dad," she called to Sheets Ah Sun. Speed-dialing her mother, Lily hurried to intercept him. The last thing the family needed was a surprise meeting between her father and her brother's gay lover.
"How's Lance?" he said.
"Same." Still in a coma.
Grace Ah Sun answered Lily's call on the second ring.
"Dad's on his way up! You gotta get Greg out of there, now!"
"Oh, my goodness."
Then she heard Greg. "Oh my God, Lance, you're back!"
Lance was out of the coma. And thank God. Make that Goddess. Stepping onto the elevator, Lily smelled eucalyptus and sea spray. Ho'ola had been here. Lily closed her eyes, breathed in the essence of the Goddess of life.
Thank you, Lily prayed. Please bless me and Quinn. Bless our families. And wherever he is, whoever he is, bless Bobo Ah Sun too."
"That I cannot do any more."
Lily's eyes snapped open and saw Ho'ola.
"Bobo, he went bye-bye."
>> Waikiki Gold Coast
In a penthouse suite, Salvatore Innuendo sipped Pinot Grigio and watched the sunset.
He was once a member of the Vatican Security Office, assigned to protect the Pope. He'd been recruited at 17, and by 22 Innuendo was assigned to the Pope's security detail.
So he was there that day, walking beside the Pope's car, when John Paul was shot. He was scanning the crowd,. Innuendo noted two voluptuous sisters and his eyes lingered on them. He was just swinging his gaze back toward the car when he saw the gun, heard the blast, saw the Holy Father bleeding.
Salvatore Innuendo had never been the same. The Vatican sent him off to Honolulu, put him up in a rectory and paid for care from a Catholic shrink. Not that it helped. Innuendo knew he was going to hell.
Which is what he was doing at the Pali Lookout on that other life-turning day, standing in the wind on the old wall. He crossed himself and jumped. But found himself moving backward. At first he thought the wind had blown him back, then felt a hand on his collar.
"Oh, God, let me die!" he cried.
"There ain't no God, you dumbs---," a voice said. "Only me."
The phone rang. Innuendo heard the voice he'd heard that day at the Pali. "I'll buzz you in."
>> Queen's Medical Center
Walking into her brother Lance's room, Lily saw Sheets standing frozen as her mother and Greg danced around him, blubbering deliriously.
And then Greg spun away, back to Lance's bedside and kissed him, burbling "Oh, welcome back, darling!"
Grace put an arm around Greg and Sheets, hugged them to her. "Look, dear, Greg and your father are here!"
Sheets pushed away from Greg and punched him in the nose with a right jab.
>> Waikiki Gold Coast
Salvatore Innuendo had known men like Machiavelli when he worked for the Vatican. They operated behind the scenes, pulled strings and kicked buttocks when necessary. The only difference was Machiavelli didn't wear silk robes and a red scull cap.
The door knocked, Innuendo saw Machiavelli through the peep hole, opened the door. But he had not seen the other man. "Another reclamation project from the scrap heap?"
"You could say that." Machiavelli pushed a derelict-looking fellow in. "I don't believe, you've had the pleasure of meeting the senator. Sal, this is Donovan."
"Donovan, this is Sal. He's going to take care of your problem with Sherlock Gomes."
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