My Kind of Town
My Kind of Town
>> Las Vegas For the children
Taking the glass elevator down from her 21st floor condo at The Velvetian, Flo Kajiyama Ah Sun focused on the dark desert beyond the glittering city and tried to collect her thoughts. Life was normally so simple -- eat, sleep, gamble. The occasional guy, always a tourist, only happened in his hotel room, from which she could flee in the middle of the night. At least life was simple until moments ago when the son she hadn't seen in 16 years rang from Honolulu.
Rang? Rattled was more like it. And he was with his cousin Lily -- they'd just rediscovered each other after 21 years apart. Moreover, they were digging into their fathers' feud and had come upon the key clue --Bobo Ah Sun. Flo didn't know everything, but she knew a lot. The rest, she had strong suspicions.
Her cab was waiting outside the lobby. Sliding into the back, Flo patted her purse, felt her cell phone. She'd call Quinn back when she had more privacy. But what she'd say -- how far she'd go -- that she couldn't say.
>> Kaimuki It was just a hunch. It was also on the general way home to get cleaned up for dinner with Dr. Laurie Tang. So HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes turned the '71 Barracuda off Waialae and cruised down 4th Avenue. And there she was, half a block ahead, still dressed head to toe in black, but minus the expedition-size desert camouflage backpack. Except for the white 7-11 bag swinging from her right hand, she blended into the gathering dusk. She walked with her head down, and didn't notice the green car passing or pulling into a driveway. The woman who Gomes suspected of being the Family Photo Burglar didn't notice him at all until he was stepping into her path and saying in a kindly tone, "I can hear the children crying."
She recognized him, recognized the green car. The man who earlier had been following her on TheBus.
"You can?" she said. "Oh dear! I'd better go!"
"I'll drive."
His concern for the children was sincere, Kate felt. And even though she knew somehow she could be in trouble, when the man opened the passenger door for her, she got in.
"Yes, you're right, I can hear them too. Please hurry!"
"I'm Sherlock."
"Kate."
"You love the children. I can tell."
"Yes." A half-block of silence. "But why are they crying? Oh, I know, they miss me! Here!" She pointed to a small apartment building made of gray cinderblock.
Gomes pulled into an open space. "I think there's another reason."
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