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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
First things first
>> Big Island
Having just delivered six of Sushi Leclaire's dozen Filipinas to the beach, Sonya Chan steered the Zodiac back to the yacht Wet Spot anchored 40 yards offshore from Pele's Bath, her trusty spear gun in one hand.
"OK, Magdalena, you and the rest of the ladies into the boat," she called, tying the Zodiac to the yacht. "I'll be right back, I just have to get a couple of things from below."
She quickly grabbed her purse and the small bag she'd brought from Daren's boat, and checked the desk drawer. Sure enough, there was the sheaf of pink stationery with silver PS monogram from the days when this was Pet Shop, on which Daren had written his journal. His confession, really. She folded the pages, put them in her purse, felt better seeing both her cell phone and the Glock 9mm she'd taken at spear gun point from Sushi.
On shore at that moment, her officially dead fiance Daren Guy was chatting with the just-arrived TV outdoorsman Virgil Root, his cameraman Jim Birdley and their local guide Kimo Felez.
"What's with all the smoke?" said Root, unaware he was talking to his long-lost cousin, but semi-weirded out that this stranger looked like his twin.
"New lava flow heading this way," Daren replied.
"We better get the camera."
That was not a good idea. Daren was going to be killing two people, at least, and the last thing he needed was to have it on tape. So as he followed them back to their blue Jeep parked on the rocky point above Pele's Bath, he grabbed the kiawe branch he'd been saving for Sonya. First things first.
Root and Birdley were in a serious work mode, Kimo was excited to be part of a TV show, and so they were not paying attention to him. The first blow came as Birdley was opening the back of the Jeep.
Without warning or sound, the 4-foot club with 2-inch thorns crashed into the side of his head. As the cameraman fell, Daren swung the club back and caught Kimo in the face, and he too fell.
"What the hell?!" Root said, jumping back, squaring off.
"You have to die, cuz."
"Cuz why?"
"Because you're my cousin," Daren said with a sharp laugh. "Because you're my beneficiary. So you gotta die."
"My cousin's dead." For a moment of bafflementation he let his guard down. In that instant Daren swung the club hard and accurate. Root was able to get up a forearm, but still the club crashed into his head, and he too fell dazed and bleeding.
He was about to finish all three off when Sushi shouted from the beach, "Hello, my darlings, I'm so glad to see you!"
That's when they heard the sound of a helicopter approaching.
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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