My Kind of Town
My Kind of Town
Hesitation Blues
>> North Shore
"Boy, that wine really hit me, Victor!" Shauny Nakamura said and gave him a sloppy kiss right there in the Turtle Bay parking lot. He kissed her back, hands groping.
Unbeknownst to them, Jake Peepers, P.I., was getting it all on his digital camera.
Victor Primitivo helped her into the Escalade, fastened her seatbelt, and by the time they reached the highway she was out cold. It wasn't the wine alone, of course, it was its interaction with the magic dust he'd sprinkled in the wine when she left to use the restroom. He turned toward Kahuku. Only 20 minutes to their destination.
But then he saw trouble coming, a big cow trotting toward the road from the mountain side, on a path that would directly intersect the Escalade's. Primitivo hit the gas, the big truck jumped, and he swerved into the left lane, avoiding the cow by inches. Startled, the cow hesitated, and in the rearview mirror Primitivo saw a truck that was following hit the cow broadside, and then the truck was hit by another vehicle, and another and another.
Shauny slept through all the excitement. Primitivo drove on, quite pleased with the situation.
Following in his nondescript white van six vehicles behind the Escalade, Peepers saw the cow coming, started braking, moving toward the shoulder of the road, and avoided the multi-wreck as well as a fruit stand. He was the first to call 911, even as he was rushing to offer first aid. Fortunately the only fatality was the cow, but by the time he'd told HPD officers what he'd seen, it was mid-afternoon already.
If he hurried, he could make it to Waimea Bay and catch the final heats of The Eddie, where 28-foot waves were expected. And where his client, the lovely, voluptuous Mrs. Primitivo, was waiting to see his photos. She was going to be angry and hurt, and she would need solace. Jake Peepers was the guy to provide it, just one of the services he offered clients. Truth was, there's nothing like a woman making love as an act of revenge.
Traffic was thick, so Peepers parked the van and walked the last half-mile to Waimea with his laptop. Turning into the Waimea parking area from the highway, he called Mrs. Primitivo's cell.
Meg Choy Primitivo had been on her way to Waimea with plans of suicide by throwing herself into the monstrous surf, but when she spotted her husband and a young woman turning into Turtle Bay her thoughts had indeed turned to revenge. Now her private detective was on the phone, saying he had photographic proof Victor was cheating. This was going to cost her billionaire schmuck of a husband. "Meet me by the showers," she said.
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