My Kind of Town
A good Catholic boy
>> 2002 Wilder
Three of Detective Sherlock Gomes' HPD colleagues arrived just before the ambulance crew. One officer went with the ambulance guys as they wheeled away the unidentified intruder, whose right eye had been ripped open. The others went to work investigating the crime scene and questioning the condo owner, Dr. Laurie Tang, and her guest, Gomes.
"Let me get this straight, detective," officer Stuart Kanekapolei said, reading from the notes he'd just taken. "You wen' rat-tail 'im? From aroun' da corner? And you was aiming low, where you t'ought his alla-allas was? But bruddah was down, like, crouching? Yeah? An' even though you get one Glock in yo oddah han', you wen' rat-tail 'im first? And took out one eye?"
"Just like that," Gomes said, demonstrating his sidearm wrist-snap technique.
"A-(blank)ing-mazing, brah," officer Kanekapolei said, shaking his head. "I tell you, dis one going down in da anals."
It was, indeed, another bright chapter in the remarkable career of Sherlock Gomes, the detective who disdained guns.
In fact, although Internal Affairs would have to be notified and they too would investigate, because Gomes had not used his gun there would be no negative repercussions. HPD didn't have rules about officers using rolled up beach towels as weapons.
When at last the officers had gone, Laurie led Gomes out to the lanai. The sirens that two hours ago had called them back to her condo from the pool were now silent. Honolulu city lights sparkled as if nothing had happened.
"By the way," she said, "when I called the ER, they said a terrorist blew up himself and nine other people in Waikiki, and injured a bunch of others."
"So that's what all the sirens were about."
"Sounds pretty bad."
"They must need you at the ER."
"They should be OK by now. Besides, tonight I need something."
"I need you to stay with me. After everything that's happened, I don't want to be alone."
She moved closer, squeezed his muscular arm.
"I'm Catholic, you know," he said.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't do it on the first date."
"I just want you to hold me."
So when they fell asleep, Laurie resting her head on Gomes' good shoulder and an arm across his broad chest, their clothes were on. She could wait for their second date. If it was, like, tomorrow.
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 email@example.com