My Kind of Town
>> 2002 Wilder Eh, babooze!
Salvatore Innuendo parked the dark blue Nissan near the elevator, backing into the space in guest parking. HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes would have to cross in front of him, right to left. He watched from behind tinted windows as Gomes parked, walked toward the elevator. Innuendo lowered the driver's window a third, raised a 10-inch blowgun to his lips, tracking, waiting for the open shot.
Gomes was wearing a billowy silk aloha shirt, khaki walking shorts, tassel loafers with no socks. This guy was no plain clothesman. And he was obviously here on more than police business. No ankle holster, that was for sure. In fact, Innuendo knew that the detective was here for dinner with Dr. Laurie Tang, who earlier in the day dumped Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka. It would be a pity to end a budding relationship so soon. But it was easier that way, before the emotions grew too complex. Gomes glanced his way, but Innuendo didn't flinch. The tint was too dark to see inside. Tracking still, measuring his breath, waiting until Gomes was just past, looking for a neck shot. So many blood vessels there to carry the dart's poison to the brain and heart, it was nearly instant death. Innuendo inhaled, held it a heartbeat, and heard a jarring, rattling metallic sound.
Followed by a boisterous "Eh, babooze!"
Innuendo lowered the blowgun, slowly exhaled, raised the window.
Two young caterers dressed in white jackets and gray pants spilled from the elevator pushing a cart. One stooped to pick up a stainless steel tray from the concrete floor.
The appearance of the caterers had two immediate effects. Innuendo went to Plan B.
Gomes assumed that Dr. Laurie Tang had catered dinner. Which would explain the other vehicle that arrived just before he did and gave her condo number to the security guard.
The kid pushing the cart rammed the other in the okole as he stooped over, nearly toppling him. He gathered his balance, swore, slapped the pusher with the tray.
"Easy, guys," Gomes said, stepping around the caterers, pushing the up button.
He was having serious doubts about eating whatever they'd just delivered when the elevator doors slid open. Gomes stepped inside, pushed the button for Laurie's floor, saw a guy exiting a dark blue Nissan and jogging toward the elevator, waving. Gomes pushed the open-door button.
"No hurry," he said. "Which floor?"
"Fifteen."
That was two of them.
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