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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Seat of the pants
>>Kona
Cruz MacKenzie loved it. You can plan forever in the newspaper business -- story schedules, angles you want to cover, people you need to interview -- and then reality happens in a hurry and suddenly you're flying by the seat of your pants with breaking news. Fortunately, flying by the seat of his pants was one of the things Cruz did best. He wasn't sure yet what the new story was, but he knew the simple angle of Daren Guy's memorial service was now something much more, and he knew what he had to do.
Cruz circulated through the crowd gathering quotes. Emotions ran high. Most people were adamantly in favor of hunting down the killer shark. There was a Hawaiian woman who said "The shark is sacred to the Hawaiian people and must be respected," but she was a minority of one.
More typical was a female Kona cop: "It's just a damn fish."
"You can kiss your tourist industry good-bye if you can't make the ocean safe to go in!" said a visitor from Chicago.
A local surfer said: "You know what I really hate, brah? Being number two on the food chain."
Cruz also wanted to find Mano and ask what he thought about all these boats trying to catch his aumakua, and he wanted to know what kind of gear you use to fish for shark. But he saw the guy in the tan suit who had been seated with Sonya at the service unlocking the door of a vintage Mercedes across the street.
Cruz jogged over. "Excuse me, could I talk with you for a moment."
He turned and did a quick up and down. "You must be MacKenzie."
"Right. You?"
"Perry Brown. I got your messages. Been busy."
Brown stood tall, erect. Maybe he didn't think he was better than other people, but he physically looked down his straight nose on them. "Nice to meet you. Maybe we could talk here. I just have a couple of questions. Like why were you with Sonya on the stage earlier?"
"No comment. Not today," Brown said in the cool, impersonal manner that is the first requirement for law school admission. "Maybe another time."
He stepped into the car, drove away. An attorney who doesn't want publicity? It's enough to make a columnist suspicious.
"What's up with Perry Brown?" Ornellas, sneaking up on him again. "I'm not sure. Except that Sonya went to see him yesterday morning, and he doesn't want to talk about it."
"He's good, but slicker than Astroglide. I'll bet he's chasing a cut of Daren Guy's Lotto money."
"Not a bad bet. You ever find Sonya."
"She just disappeared. Too bad. Once she talks to me, she doesn't need Perry Brown."
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
