My Kind of Town
My Kind of Town
The right question
>> Waimea Bay
Four young men in brightly colored vests were paddling out for the next heat of The Eddie, battling to get around the 28-footers that were thundering toward shore. But suddenly for Jake Peepers, P.I., and his client Meg Choy Primitivo, the drama was happening on the beach.
"What's your name, cowboy?" Peepers asked the tall Hawaiian squatting beside him.
"Lono Oka'aina."
"Yeah, I did notice you back at Turtle Bay." It was tough to miss the boots, the western-cut palaka shirt and the white Stetson. "Jake Peepers," he added, handing him a business card. "And this is Meg, the aggrieved wife."
"Private eye, no kidding. I never met one private eye before. Pleased to know you. So that's why you were following the couple."
"What's your interest in the case?"
"Like I said, I was just having lunch, they were seated close by. And I don't think she was just drunk when you saw her. I think he put something in her wine."
"Victor, you pig!" Meg blurted.
"Yeah, that's what she called him. Victor, I mean. He called her Shauny."
That was new and useful information for Peepers. "Tell us what you saw, from the start."
"Normally, I'm not the niele kind. Mind my own business, you know. But this time, well ..." And Lono told them how he'd rented out this ranch, the Rockin' Pikake, to a hunt club, so he had a day to kill and that's how he ended up having lunch at the Palm Terrace. And the young Japanese woman was so beautiful, he couldn't help looking. Plus, the guy she was with was old enough to be her father. But they seemed to be having a good time together, talking and laughing. He had a couple martinis, she had three glasses of pink wine.
"It was the second one," he continued. "She got up to use the lua and it happened so fast, like one magician, you're not sure what you just saw. But I think he put something in her drink."
"Slipped her a mickey!" Peepers said.
Lono smiled. "I didn't hear that one for a while."
Peepers shrugged. "I like the old Cagney and Bogart flicks."
"Date rape drug, I think they call it."
"I think they do."
"And after that, it was like she got real drunk real fast. You saw it, he had to lift her into his truck."
"Blotto, totally," Peepers said. "And you're right, she was OK a couple minutes before. By the way, what you got at that Rockin' Pikake to hunt? Must be pretty good for a club to rent the property."
From the way the paniolo stammered, Peepers knew he'd asked the right question. He just didn't know why.
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