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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Trading secrets
>> Kona
The young haole waitress with the immense breasts held snug by white Spandex paused as she passed with an empty tray. "Two more, please," Cruz MacKenzie said.
"You sure those're fake?" Nick Ornellas said, watching her go.
"They're too perfect. Definitely silicone. Like Sonya."
"Sonya? Damn!"
"Why? You interested?" Cruz couldn't blame him.
"Never mind. So what's this big secret?" Ornellas said sarcastically, stretching "big" into three syllables.
"If it's pertinent to the investigation," Cruz MacKenzie replied, "you'll give me the details of Daren Guy's policy?"
Ornellas hated trusting people, especially a journalist. "Deal."
Cruz hated trusting people too, but Ornellas had just saved his life. "I went out to visit Daren's girlfriend ..."
"Fiancee."
Cruz also hated being reminded that Sonya loved Daren that much. "Right. Anyway, we're old friends, I needed to talk to her for my story. And I'm in the head and the sink backs up. Totally clogged. Sonya gets a plunger, and up comes Daren's beard. He'd shaved it off."
"No kidding," Ornellas said, sitting up straighter.
"He had a beard when you sold him the policy, didn't he? This means he got back to his boat safely after he jumped into the water from Mano Kekai's Zodiac, shaved, and then went for a swim."
Ornellas nodded and without further prompting gave Cruz the details of the life insurance policy he'd sold Daren Guy. It was, in fact, a double policy, for Daren and for Sonya. It took up several pages of fine print, but the essence of the policy was that if something happened to either Daren or Sonya, the survivor got $5 million. If something then happened to that person, Daren's long-lost cousin, Virgil Root of Pendleton, Ore., got the money. The money would go into a tax-free bank account in the Bahamas.
Ornellas stopped talking as a young cop approached. He showed Cruz a zip-lock freezer bag that rattled with what was left of his LapFlex computer, and got his side of what happened out in the parking lot. When the officer left, Cruz said: "I should probably share this little tidbit with the cops, huh?"
"Why?" Ornellas bristled. "Don't get me wrong, like I said, I bleed blue. But the detective they got on this case is an egomaniac. Thinks he's the next Sherlock Gomes. More like Barney Fife with a mean streak. Let him figure it out. And no writing about it, either."
"Whoa! This is a hot fact, and exclusive, and that's my livelihood."
"OK, but keep it to yourself for a day or two. That'll buy us some time."
See the Columnists section for some past articles.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com
