My Kind of Town

Don Chapman

Already dead

>> Maui

Waiting for his tee time, Cruz Mackenzie sat down at the counter of the Waiehu Golf Course coffee shop where somebody had left a copy of today's Star-Bulletin, which he hadn't seen yet, and ordered pancakes and two eggs over easy. Food for walking 18 holes. Garry played his column about Daren Guy's abbreviated memorial service and ensuing shark hunt at the bottom of Page One with an AP photo of the big shark Sammy Kaleikini caught. Above the fold Garry played a story about the Honolulu mayoral campaign heating up -- the anti-same-sex marriage candidate was alleged to have been a raving same-sex slut as a young man before discovering religion.

>> Off the Big Island

If Daren Guy were dead, he'd written, Sonya Chan would be the beneficiary of $4 million. She loved him, had grieved with all her heart when she thought he was dead, but if he was thinking about killing her, well, it only made sense to start thinking of ways to kill him ... Hmmm ... She was a pretty good shot with a speargun ... And he'd already been declared dead ...

Daren was busy steering the luxury yacht Wet Spot and talking on the radio with a man named Sushi who had a Japanese accent, preparing to make a rendezvous and pick up "the girls." Whatever that meant.

"I'm gonna go put on a swimsuit," she said cheerily, touching his arm. "You want anything from below?"

"All I want is a kiss," he said, pulled her close, kissed her warmly. "I missed you so much when I was dead."

"You?! What about me?! You don't know how sad I was when they said you were dead. Daren, you were my life!"

He pulled her close for another kiss, and in his breathlessness her use of the past-tense skipped right past him. "Anything but that pink bikini."

No pink bikini, she knew, for the same reason that the boat's pink sails and life rings were stowed below -- dead giveaways as to its real identity, the infamous (and missing) Pet Shop.

Daren watched her go, admiring the curvature and twitch of hips as she descended into the cabin.

And now it was his turn to be confused, because she seemed so sincere in her grief when he was dead and sincerely joyous now that he was alive. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe he misunderstood what Pet Shop's skipper said with his dying breath, "Sonya, I did it for you." Maybe she really didn't have anything to do with his plan to kill Daren and have Sonya and Daren's Lotto millions to himself.

Maybe she didn't have to die after all.

Below deck, Sonya did a quick inventory while changing into her white bikini, but found no diving gear. Must be in one of the chests topside.

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


E-mail to Features Editor


Text Site Directory:
[News] [Business] [Features] [Sports] [Editorial] [Calendars]
[Classified Ads] [Search] [Subscribe] [Info] [Letter to Editor]
© 2003 Honolulu Star-Bulletin --