My Kind of Town
My Kind of Town
T’ink about it
>>Above Waialua
It had merely been a simple twist of bureaucratic fate. So simple, so twisted, the gang that thought it was liberating its leader Isaac Kunia from an HPD van en route to OCCC and instead came away with Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka soon began to create conspiracy theories. Of course, the beer, pakalolo and ice added to their collective clarity. They'd been told that Isaac would be on that van. He wasn't. Ergo, somebody was a snitch. Although ergo was not a word this group used.
"All I know," the senator explained more than once, "is there were a bunch of us in orange suits, more than could fit in the van. Isaac got left behind with some other guys, one of the cops said they'd be on the next van. It was just bad luck." For Isaac anyway.
"Alls I know," Moki said darkly, "is somebody here wen' rat us out."
Maybe it was just habit, but even though the six members of Isaac's old gang were all innocent, they each looked guilty.
The one called Lude, named after his mother's favorite drug, watched a lot of cop TV shows to pick up pointers. "You know what the great detectives, McGarrett, Columbo, li' dat, you know what they do? They ask 'who get da mos' to lose, who get da mos' to win?'"
"Who?" the others all asked at once.
"T'ink about it," Lude said, impersonating The Thinker.
This was foreign turf for these men of action, drugs, guns, desires and cable TV. And it did not go well.
"Oh yeah!" Moki said. You could practically see a light bulb flash on above his head. Well, not a light bulb exactly. A little blue Christmas tree light. "Who was da one in charge when we wen' grab da senator?"
"Sam," Lude said.
The others nodded, turned to stare at Sam. He still looked guilty.
"Who was going be da new leadah if Isaac stay inside da jail?"
"Sam," they chorused.
"Eh, whoa, hold on ..." Sam protested, but Moki was on a roll.
"An' who was grumbling when we voted da senator da new leadah?"
"Sam!"
"An' finally, who was da one had da contac' inside da jail?"
"Sam!"
"Der you go," said Moki, da pidgin Perry Mason. "Sam."
"Makes sense," Lude said. The others nodded in agreement. Somehow they still looked guilty too.
"Eh, c'mon, you guys," Sam said, "Isaac is my cousin an'..."
Moki's Glock 9mm silenced him.
"You know what happens to a rat, Sam. And Mistah Senator," he said, handing over the gun in one of his most brilliant moves, "you get to do da honors."
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