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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Dr. Shark
>> Manoa
The sound of footsteps on the coral gravel path roused Delbert Pester from a quick nap on a shaded bench beneath a spreading monkeypod tree. He straightened up slowly, adjusted his sweater, leaned slightly from the waist to see his visitor better.
"His mind is still brilliant, he's an excellent conversationalist," nurse Kumulani whispered. She was, Cruz learned as they walked from the lobby, a recent graduate of the UH nursing school. She had a beautiful face and figure, and on a grand scale. She weighed at least 250, stood 6-foot-2, not fat, just large bones and features, and all in lovely proportion. "But not for long stretches. Did you know they used to call him Dr. Shark?"
"Professor Pester," she said, placed a large hand delicately on his boney shoulder, covering it like a shawl, "this is Mr. MacKenzie from the paper.
He motioned for Cruz to sit in a white wrought iron chair. At one time Pester must have been the wiry type, lean and quick on his feet aboard a boat, stronger than he appeared. A very old man of the sea, he was now nearly gaunt. But his mind still flexed its Ph.D. power. Cruz pushed the record button on the tape recorder, quickly realized Pester was practically writing tomorrow's column for him.
>> Off the Big Island
With the first steely light of dawn, Daren Guy hauled down the yacht's telltale pink sail and stored it below decks. His gamble had paid off, and they'd picked up some time. Daren figured they were miles ahead of where they'd have been with just the small electric motor for power, especially with Wet Spot overladen with the 12 Filipinas they'd just picked up, not to mention Sushi Leclaire, who was bringing them illegally to the Big Island, and Hideki, the fisherman who'd jumped ship from the Tuna Maru because he'd fallen in love with one of the girls.
Daren just wanted to deposit them, collect another $20,000 and get on with the rest of his plan, really just a series of gambles, one after the other. He'd stayed at the wheel through the night, he and Sushi adjusting the sail as needed as he tacked across the sea back to Kona.
As the dark hours passed, Daren learned more about this mission. Sushi, a former Honolulu sushi chef, was taking a gamble of his own. He'd found the girls in the bars of Manila, promising them a better life in America, and they wouldn't have to have sex for cash. But they would need their acting ability and a willingness to work sans clothes. He was going to make them Internet stars, and they were all going to make a lot of money. If the gamble paid off.
Daren understood his position, and urgency.
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
