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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Killing time, etc.
>> Off the Big Island
On the night that Cruz MacKenzie and Mano Kekai slept on the beach of the remote lagoon where Mano the shark god lived, Sonya Chan and Daren Guy spent their second night together aboard the yacht Wet Spot, killing time until the next day when they would again try to rendezvous with the Japanese fishing trawler Tuna Maru and pick up a dozen young Filipinas and Sushi Leclaire.
Time was not all that had been killed recently. Daren himself had been pronounced officially dead. And the two crewmen of this boat when it was called Pet Shop were missing. Sonya knew from reading the secret notes Daren had written on the boat's telltale pink stationery that Daren had killed them -- shot them with spearguns -- because they tried to kill him.
And she knew that he suspected her of being in on the plot because Paul -- the skipper, her old acquaintance from the times a few years ago she was aboard Pet Shop -- apparently somehow confessed having a crush on her. What an idiot! Sonya knew that Paul kind of liked her, but did nothing to encourage it and felt nothing more for him than "Eh, Paul, howzit?" Besides, that night Daren won the Lotto, with her hustling tables at the yacht club and with Paul in the crowd, Daren proposed and she accepted. How dense can you be. God, if it wasn't for Paul ...
But Daren was also responsible. He'd been in the ocean that night to fake his own death by shark attack. Two million dollars sounded good to her, but apparently it wasn't enough for him. He wanted it multiplied by insurance. Sonya also knew that she was the beneficiary of the policy Daren took out the night he won the Lotto. Four million would be just fine with her. No need to be greedy.
There had been another line in Daren's journal/confession that she didn't understand. "If something happens to Sonya, money to VR."
Virtual reality?
All of these thoughts came to her as she lay next to Daren, head on his arm after making love again, amazed as always at what a good wall the human skull is, keeping all those thoughts swirling in the brain from the person whose head is resting against yours.
She wondered what Daren was thinking.
And where the spearguns were.
The TV was on, just background noise, until a voice that sounded exactly like Daren's but with a kind of country twang said, "Howdy, I'm Virgil Root and I'm pleased that starting next week KHON will be carrying my show, 'Pendleton RFD,' where every week we bring you the best of the outdoor life in the West ..."
They both jerked their heads toward the TV. Virgil Root, Sonya saw, looked like Daren's twin, especially now that he'd shaved his head. Hello, VR?
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Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com
