My Kind of Town
>> Honolulu Soap Co. Curious Gomes
HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes, a man of impeccable personal hygiene, felt even cleaner just for having taken a tour of the Soap Company. He wondered if the proprietor Sheets Ah Sun was the same way. Probably, especially if there was some dirt in past.
That's why Gomes was here. Of course he was only fishing, going on a hunch, and not even his own, but his protege's, Kona Weathers. At this point, Gomes was as interested in what Ah Sun said as how he said it.
Gomes followed Ah Sun into one of the most spartan work spaces the detective had ever encountered. The desk, the file cabinet and Ah Sun's chair were gray metal, chipped, rusting in places. When Sheets sat down and rocked back, the chair squeaked. Gomes took a seat in one of two molded plastic chairs on skinny metal legs. The only decorations were an AM/FM clock radio and a small trophy in the shape of the numeral one, a hole-in-one trophy with a Titleist golf ball mounted on top.
"Thirteenth hole, Ala Wai," Gomes read from the engraving. "Eh, tough hole.
My old friend Henry Loui aced it one time when I was playing with him."
"I knew Henry. Best suckin' ribs ..."
Sheets was both grateful and annoyed at the small talk. What the hell was Gomes here for? "But you're not here to talk golf."
"No," Gomes said, pulled a notebook from the pocket of his silk aloha shirt.
"I was curious about something, Mr. Ah Sun, and when I'm curious I ask questions."
Sheets felt his heart pounding, hoped Gomes couldn't see it beating through his ancient Reyn Spooner reverse print shirt.
"I was curious why you apparently went out of your way ..."
Oh God, Sheets thought, he knows ...
"... twice, yesterday morning ... and again this morning ..."
My brother Mits was right, the cops always keep an eye on crime scenes because it's true, the perp always returns to the scene of the crime ...
"... and drove past where an investigation is currently happening ..."
And I was stupid enough not to listen to my cop brother and returned to the scene of my crimes ...
"... at an illegal chemical dump site in Waimanalo ..."
I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead ...
"... and it seems like a funny way to get from home in Kailua to work in Kalihi."
The money that Sheets had lost playing poker over the years suddenly seemed like the best investment in his future he'd ever made. "I'm like you, detective. I'm curious, especially when there's news in an area I know pretty well."
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com