My Kind of Town
First impressions
>> ManoaNothing like making a good first impression, the widow Rayna Chang was thinking. It had been 29 years her last first date, when she met Henry during her senior year at Roosevelt. But here she was diving back into the dating game, sharing her couch with David Fulton -- while being grilled by FBI agent Steve Metz.
The G-man wanted to know about her yardman.
Rayna said she'd found Paul Omandam through a Web site offering Filipino laborers for less money than the service sanctioned by the government of the Philippines. Paul was a good worker, never caused any problems, had a way with her late husband's orchids. The only thing out of the ordinary she'd noticed was that he did not go to Mass on Sundays.
"No wonder," the G-man said. "We have reason to believe his real name is Achmed al-Hazir. Native of Mindanao. Sources indicate he received explosives training from Infitada Inc. We also believe he was involved in the plot to blow up the Arizona Memorial earlier today."
Out of the corner of her eye Rayna saw David turning to give her a look of total shock. What kind of goofball broad have I gotten myself involved with, he was probably thinking. Who could blame him?
>> Like most people, Paul Omandam/Achmed al-Hazir knew the sounds of his neighborhood. Which dog barked from which yard. Which husbands tended to come home late. The sounds of specific neighbors' cars starting and arriving home. Unlike most people, he was a terrorist and thus had a necessarily heightened sense of alert.
Hiding in the shadows between the mock orange hedge and the redwood fence, he could not see the front of the home of his soon to be former employer, the widow Mrs. Chang, but he heard one car arrive, moments later another. He didn't recognize the sound of either. Crouching, he started moving toward the front of the house and a quick escape into the night.
>> 2002 Wilder
Dr. Laurie Tang was enjoying talking with HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes so much, even as he asked about her boyfriend-until-this-morning, she hadn't thought about the cold realities of his profession. Gomes was enjoying himself so much, he'd forgotten about the unusual safety precaution he'd taken this evening. But then they arrived at the pool for his swimming lesson and he slipped off his billowy silk aloha shirt and stood there in his shorts and shoulder holster.
"You think you'd have to force me to talk at gunpoint?" she teased, slipping out of her pareau. She looked so good in the yellow one-piece, Gomes forgot to mention why he wore the gun, the other visitor who'd signed in for her condo tonight.
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