THE phone rang.
I must have dozed off for it woke me up. The newspaper lay at my feet in a crumpled pile.
"Yeah?"
"What's up?" It was Ronnie.
"Thanks for calling me back. You busy lately?"
"Nah, Christmas time you know. People don't start killing each other until after the new year."
Ronnie was a funny guy. "I need your help. I need information on football betting."
"Football? Everyone bets on football. What can I tell you that you don't already know?"
What he was really saying was: Why are you asking me and what does it have to do with me? Ronnie was still a cop.
"I want to know if anyone in town is giving you trouble. Making noise. You know, trouble collecting, welshers, stuff like that." I paused. "Or maybe someone is just missing some money."
Longer pause.
"What are you talking about, missing money?" He sounded confused.
I thought about what Ronnie was asking. The questions I had posed didn't even make sense to myself. Without giving Samantha away, I tried another angle.
"How about someone trying to finance a fix? Someone trying to pay someone off."
"A fix?" Ronnie asked. Now there was interest in his voice.
"Maybe, just check for me okay?"
Any fix in this town involved on of the two college teams here. Before the Tiger Sharks made the jump to division one, football meant the state university. Now there were two teams in town.
"Fixing a game. Now that's real low. You got a line on the bum?"
"Nothing solid yet," I hesitated and knew it was a mistake.
"Anything I should know about?" Ronnie asked. He sounded suspicious.
I didn't want him to know that I had Samantha on ice, but a killing was involved. "Well, a certain guy has been missing for about a day. It's not like him to be out of touch for so long."
I could hear Ronnie thinking over the phone. He knew a tip when he heard one. "You got a name for this missing guy?"
Giving Ronnie hard facts was as good as admitting I knew something. I decided to take a chance. "You didn't hear this from me. Check on a guy named Green. Michael Green."
Ronnie knew I was walking a grey line by giving him a name. There was an uneasy silence on the line.
"What's your angle on this?" he finally asked.
"Just helping out a friend." It was a standard response. Knowing cops were naturally suspicious, I hoped it would do.
"Sure." He hung up.
Ronnie worked out of CID, or the Criminal Investigation Division. Specifically he was a homicide detective.
I had a feeling he wouldn't like working on this one.
The sound of the falling rain kept me company as I sat there wondering where the two fifty large had come from. It started to become apparent that Greenie had sent it to her. But why send it to her when she had access to the safety deposit box?
I stood at my window and watched the surfers compete with the weather. A storm from the south meant a swell. Surfing in the rain was not unusual so Waikiki was packed. Most of the surfers out there on their boards would be there until it was too dark to see.
I glanced at the clock. It was time to see Willy.
Mark nodded at me as I took the elevator down to the lobby and walked out the front door. Or at least I tried to.
The bellmen, the front door desk people and the front door man all said hello. Being a part of a hotel meant that everywhere you went, you always felt eyes following you. Although their intentions were good, it was somewhat disconcerting to know that hundreds of people knew when you left and came home. I had hundreds of moms watching over me. The price of my job was high.
Troy, the doorman looked put off at my declining his offer of a cab. I took a right around the corner and walked into the next hotel lobby I came to. I made my way to the opposite side of the Hyatt's lobby and got into a cab that sat waiting at the corner. The Vietnamese driver looked at me twice when I told him where I wanted to go. He must have mistook me for a tourist.
We rode in silence through the afternoon traffic. It was bumper to bumper all the way to my destination.
I was taking a trip back in time. A time I had put away, locked up and thrown away the key to. The events of today had me go back to a life I had left five years ago. Ronnie, Willy, Leinani, they were all part of my past. Now Pandora's Box was about to be opened again, and I was about to face the consequences. The cabbie woke me from my thoughts.
"We here."
I looked out the window at what represented a time machine. I payed the driver and opened the door.
"By the way, what's the line on Saturday's game?" I asked.
"Tiger Sharks by nine."
"Who you taking?"
The driver paused. He grinned at me. "I'm waiting for Friday. Want to see what the line does."
I nodded my approval and closed the door.
ch6 pg 36-37
HOME for me was on the top floor of a two hundred room hotel at the far side of Waikiki called the Islander. The hotel catered to people who wanted to experience the Hawaii of old. There is a lot of competition. The Halekulani, the Hilton, the Moana, they all offered four star service. The Islander had its own niche.
Although I wasn't actually involved in the day to day operations, some things still managed to reach my desk.
Kua dropped me off at the front door and parked the Rover downstairs. The bellmen and front desk clerks gave me knowing grins as I made my way through the lobby.
Smiling back, I wondered what was going on. I took a guest elevator to my floor ad thought about my next move.
I didn't have one.
The door opened and I approached Mark's desk. "How's everything with our guest?"
"I think she's still sleeping," Mark replied.
I got another knowing smile. It didn't take long for news to spread through a small hotel like the Islander. Anytime my name was mentioned in the same breath as a woman's, it created a small scandal.
"Good. I'm expecting a call from a guy named Ronnie. This is important."
Mark nodded his head. The smile on his grew as if we shared some secret.
"And Mark? She's just the daughter of a good friend."
I think he believed me.
Mark and the night person, Roxanne, kept eye on the guests on the floor and sort of acted as my secretaries. There weren't too many secrets between the three of us.
My rooms were made up of two suites that had been combined to form one room. The maintenance people had come in and modified the entrances to make it more practical for me. The bathroom was the first door you passed. There was a leather couch on the wall and two chairs that faced my desk. That room was for business. I took out the note paper I had taken from Greenie's place and locked it my desk. There was a large stack of files in my "in" box. I didn't feel like dealing with them today.
I opened up the connecting room and went back to my living area. There, I had a full living room, kitchen and two bedrooms. The kitchen was bordered by a counter on which I ate my meals. The living room was furnished with another couch and a love seat. Another desk sat facing the open window; that was where I did my personal business. Next to it was the sliding door to my lanai. An entertainment center sat on the right wall, the bedrooms were to the left.
Samantha's purse was in the same place I had left it. I placed her keys back in and closed the clasp. I sat down at my desk and tried to put it all together.
Samantha had someones money. All she wanted to do was give it back. Who's money was it? Greenie had been killed. Why?
The morning paper didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. Taking out the sports section, I read about how the Tiger Sharks were preparing for their upcoming game.
The reporter did an in depth look at the team listing injuries and high lighting players. Strategies, strengths, weaknesses were all covered. The article contained interviews with players and coaches; everyone was optimistic. The second page contained the Vegas line.
The Tiger Sharks were favored by eight and half points. I put the paper down and looked out the window. Dark clouds lined the horizon for as far as I could see.
A yawn escaped from me as I went back to the paper.
Although I wasn't actually involved in the day to day operations, some things still managed to reach my desk.
Kua dropped me off at the front door and parked the Rover downstairs. The bellmen and front desk clerks gave me knowing grins as I made my way through the lobby.
Smiling back, I wondered what was going on. I took a guest elevator to my floor ad thought about my next move.
I didn't have one.
The door opened and I approached Mark's desk. "How's everything with our guest?"
"I think she's still sleeping," Mark replied.
I got another knowing smile. It didn't take long for news to spread through a small hotel like the Islander. Anytime my name was mentioned in the same breath as a woman's, it created a small scandal.
"Good. I'm expecting a call from a guy named Ronnie. This is important."
Mark nodded his head. The smile on his grew as if we shared some secret.
"And Mark? She's just the daughter of a good friend."
I think he believed me.
Mark and the night person, Roxanne, kept eye on the guests on the floor and sort of acted as my secretaries. There weren't too many secrets between the three of us.
My rooms were made up of two suites that had been combined to form one room. The maintenance people had come in and modified the entrances to make it more practical for me. The bathroom was the first door you passed. There was a leather couch on the wall and two chairs that faced my desk. That room was for business. I took out the note paper I had taken from Greenie's place and locked it my desk. There was a large stack of files in my "in" box. I didn't feel like dealing with them today.
I opened up the connecting room and went back to my living area. There, I had a full living room, kitchen and two bedrooms. The kitchen was bordered by a counter on which I ate my meals. The living room was furnished with another couch and a love seat. Another desk sat facing the open window; that was where I did my personal business. Next to it was the sliding door to my lanai. An entertainment center sat on the right wall, the bedrooms were to the left.
Samantha's purse was in the same place I had left it. I placed her keys back in and closed the clasp. I sat down at my desk and tried to put it all together.
Samantha had someones money. All she wanted to do was give it back. Who's money was it? Greenie had been killed. Why?
The morning paper didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. Taking out the sports section, I read about how the Tiger Sharks were preparing for their upcoming game.
The reporter did an in depth look at the team listing injuries and high lighting players. Strategies, strengths, weaknesses were all covered. The article contained interviews with players and coaches; everyone was optimistic. The second page contained the Vegas line.
The Tiger Sharks were favored by eight and half points. I put the paper down and looked out the window. Dark clouds lined the horizon for as far as I could see.
A yawn escaped from me as I went back to the paper.
ch5 pg 33-35
WE passed the new police station and took left on Punchbowl Street. Kua navigated his way through traffic and turned left on Queen.
People visiting here often found the street names interesting. Either they seemed unpronounceable or were proper names of no significance. The fact was that in Honolulu proper, most of the street names were named after prominent business families or Hawaiian royalty. As of today, there was no Darling Street.
Elaine's was a small hole in the wall that catered to the off duty and sometimes on duty police officers. There were no booths or places to hide, all the tables were in the open and unobstructed. Large portions and reasonable prices made it a popular hang out. It was after eleven and the place was packed. Lunch time.
I scanned the crowd and spotted Ronnie in a light colored aloha shirt sitting with three other men. Ronnie's smile faded when he saw me. Good cops can smell trouble.
I walked over to their table and pulled up a chair. Four pairs of eyes locked on to me. I must have looked suspicious.
"Hi Ronnie," I said. It came out like he was my next door neighbor.
He smiled a big fake grin. "Darling? How you doing? Long time no see." He extended his large hand.
Ronnie was what local called Portuguese. Whether or not he had any genetic ties to Portugal did not matter. He liked to talk and live large.
He stood at a good five feet four inches and weighed in at around one fifty. Ronnie had a quick mouth and badge and gun to back it up. He method of breaking criminals was by sassing them into confessing. He slicked back his hair and looked at me.
"It's okay," I replied. "You still making trouble with the girls on Hotel?"
Ronnie laughed. "Hotel Street? Nothing going on down there. That's all small time. Waikiki now. Drugs, women, you put the two together you know what you got. You got to get out of your hotel more often." He seemed to loosen up. The three other guys with him laughed.
I laughed with them. Ronnie was good cop. Deep down, I don't think he trusted me. Maybe I was too straight.
"What brings you down here Darling? This isn't exactly your part of town." He paused. "Anymore."
"I was bored. Nothing like checking up on old friend." I tossed him a line. I wanted to know where I stood.
"Darling, I'm your only friend here. You been out of the game so long, I bet you don't know half the guys here." He waved his hand around the room.
He was right, I didn't. I looked around the bar and couldn't find one familiar face.
"Look, what you really here for?" Ronnie asked, leaning toward me and lowering his voice.
I smiled and patted him on the back. "Really Ronnie, I just wanted to see the old guys. I had some free time and decided to stop in. Hey, I gotta go. Why don't you drop me a line sometimes."
I tucked my chair under the table and shook Ronnie's hand. The eyes of thirty officers followed me out the door.
I got out of the rain and into the Rover. Kua pulled out of the parking lot back into traffic.
"Anything?" he asked.
"Just seeing if I still had any friends."
Ronnie would call me, I hoped. He knew better than to discuss business at the bar.
"Take us home."
As we rode through the relentless downpour, I wondered whether or not here would be any fruits for my labor. I started off at the two places i thought would bring immediate results. All it added up to was a staged search and a dead body. I sank back in my chair and watched the rain fall on the windshield.
I was in deeper than I wanted to be. I should have called the police as soon as I found Greenie. The only thing I could do now was wait to see what Willy came up with and figure out how I was going to deal with Ronnie.
Although it was only one in the afternoon, it looked closer to six. The horizon a light grey and getting darker.
Traffic slowed as we approached the Waikiki and the convention center site. Construction as still going on, even in the rain. There were deadlines to meet. The tall naked girders loomed over us in the darkened sky. The incomplete structure did not look like a building that was coming up. Instead it looked like they were tearing it down.
People visiting here often found the street names interesting. Either they seemed unpronounceable or were proper names of no significance. The fact was that in Honolulu proper, most of the street names were named after prominent business families or Hawaiian royalty. As of today, there was no Darling Street.
Elaine's was a small hole in the wall that catered to the off duty and sometimes on duty police officers. There were no booths or places to hide, all the tables were in the open and unobstructed. Large portions and reasonable prices made it a popular hang out. It was after eleven and the place was packed. Lunch time.
I scanned the crowd and spotted Ronnie in a light colored aloha shirt sitting with three other men. Ronnie's smile faded when he saw me. Good cops can smell trouble.
I walked over to their table and pulled up a chair. Four pairs of eyes locked on to me. I must have looked suspicious.
"Hi Ronnie," I said. It came out like he was my next door neighbor.
He smiled a big fake grin. "Darling? How you doing? Long time no see." He extended his large hand.
Ronnie was what local called Portuguese. Whether or not he had any genetic ties to Portugal did not matter. He liked to talk and live large.
He stood at a good five feet four inches and weighed in at around one fifty. Ronnie had a quick mouth and badge and gun to back it up. He method of breaking criminals was by sassing them into confessing. He slicked back his hair and looked at me.
"It's okay," I replied. "You still making trouble with the girls on Hotel?"
Ronnie laughed. "Hotel Street? Nothing going on down there. That's all small time. Waikiki now. Drugs, women, you put the two together you know what you got. You got to get out of your hotel more often." He seemed to loosen up. The three other guys with him laughed.
I laughed with them. Ronnie was good cop. Deep down, I don't think he trusted me. Maybe I was too straight.
"What brings you down here Darling? This isn't exactly your part of town." He paused. "Anymore."
"I was bored. Nothing like checking up on old friend." I tossed him a line. I wanted to know where I stood.
"Darling, I'm your only friend here. You been out of the game so long, I bet you don't know half the guys here." He waved his hand around the room.
He was right, I didn't. I looked around the bar and couldn't find one familiar face.
"Look, what you really here for?" Ronnie asked, leaning toward me and lowering his voice.
I smiled and patted him on the back. "Really Ronnie, I just wanted to see the old guys. I had some free time and decided to stop in. Hey, I gotta go. Why don't you drop me a line sometimes."
I tucked my chair under the table and shook Ronnie's hand. The eyes of thirty officers followed me out the door.
I got out of the rain and into the Rover. Kua pulled out of the parking lot back into traffic.
"Anything?" he asked.
"Just seeing if I still had any friends."
Ronnie would call me, I hoped. He knew better than to discuss business at the bar.
"Take us home."
As we rode through the relentless downpour, I wondered whether or not here would be any fruits for my labor. I started off at the two places i thought would bring immediate results. All it added up to was a staged search and a dead body. I sank back in my chair and watched the rain fall on the windshield.
I was in deeper than I wanted to be. I should have called the police as soon as I found Greenie. The only thing I could do now was wait to see what Willy came up with and figure out how I was going to deal with Ronnie.
Although it was only one in the afternoon, it looked closer to six. The horizon a light grey and getting darker.
Traffic slowed as we approached the Waikiki and the convention center site. Construction as still going on, even in the rain. There were deadlines to meet. The tall naked girders loomed over us in the darkened sky. The incomplete structure did not look like a building that was coming up. Instead it looked like they were tearing it down.
ch5 pg 32-33
THE nightstand next to his mattress revealed a trashy novel and a calculator. The lamp that stood on it was a conservative raku ceramic piece. It all seemed innocent until his nightstand drawer revealed a Ruger SP101. What I had found was a five shot three fifty seven magnum revolver. Greenie had chosen the maximum fire power in the smallest package. The gun had done him no good.
The clothes in his closet made me change my opinion of Green. Apparently he spent all is money on clothes for his wardrobe was designer all the way. What Green spent on a pants and shirt could have clothed me for the next two years. The shoes he wore were strictly name brand. i don't think he had a pair there that was less than a couple hundred dollars.
His watches were a different story. He had them all organized in a row on top of his dresser. He preferred cheap look alikes, Swiss looking watches with quartz movements. His Rolex was probably a fake.
His wallet was still on his dresser; that told me he wasn't getting ready to leave. I searched it and found nothing but a couple of gold cards and his drivers license. I made a note of his social security number.
What I was doing was looking for his ledger. He would have put all his transactions in record, probably in a book. I came out of his bedroom and took another look around.
Greenie was a meticulous guy; his apartment was spotless. It was also freezing.
Something on the floor caught my eye.
There, under the coffee table was a small pendant. The ring that had fastened it to a chain was pulled apart. It was rectangular and engraved in the Hawaiian style of jewelry with an enameled name on it. I got on my knees and put it back under the table. If the table had not been glass, I would have missed it.
There was a small notepad next to the cordless phone. From under the table you could see some writing on the bottom of the pad. I got up and turned the pad over. There were three sets of initials and three sets of what I assumed were dollar amounts. I ripped off the paper and put it in my pocket. The police would have to do with the impressing on the next page.
Poor Greenie. He was all dressed up with no where to go. I wondered if the next elevator he took was going up or down.
I put the two grocery bags in a Hefty I found in the kitchen and left Greenie's apartment. My trip back to the Rover was uneventful. I tossed the garbage bag in the back.
"Where to now?" Kua asked.
I looked out through the rain streaked windshield of the Rover and shook my head. I don't know if it was the rain water or perspiration that dripped down the side of my face, but it had the same effect. The last thing I wanted to do was get mixed up in a murder.
"Take me to Elaine's."
Elaine's was a bar and grill, though not in the regular sense. They opened at six to serve breakfast and closed at one, just late enough to serve the end of shift dinner. Cocktails were served as long as the doors were open. I went there looking for Ronnie.
Ronald Crown was a detective in the police department. We had worked together on a couple of cases way back when. The reason I thought of him was that he liked football. Better yet, he liked to gamble on football.
The heavy rain made the traffic on Pensacola Street look like a parking lot. Kua made a right turn on Beretainia and stopped in the middle of midday traffic. We inched our way toward downtown through the rain and cars.
"What you up to Mr. Darling?"
I looked over at Kua and shrugged. "Just trying to help out the daughter of an old friend."
"She in big trouble."
He had seen her apartment.
"Yeah. It would seem so." I paused. "I got an old debt to pay."
Kua kept his eyes on the road. "You must have run up a big tab."
The clothes in his closet made me change my opinion of Green. Apparently he spent all is money on clothes for his wardrobe was designer all the way. What Green spent on a pants and shirt could have clothed me for the next two years. The shoes he wore were strictly name brand. i don't think he had a pair there that was less than a couple hundred dollars.
His watches were a different story. He had them all organized in a row on top of his dresser. He preferred cheap look alikes, Swiss looking watches with quartz movements. His Rolex was probably a fake.
His wallet was still on his dresser; that told me he wasn't getting ready to leave. I searched it and found nothing but a couple of gold cards and his drivers license. I made a note of his social security number.
What I was doing was looking for his ledger. He would have put all his transactions in record, probably in a book. I came out of his bedroom and took another look around.
Greenie was a meticulous guy; his apartment was spotless. It was also freezing.
Something on the floor caught my eye.
There, under the coffee table was a small pendant. The ring that had fastened it to a chain was pulled apart. It was rectangular and engraved in the Hawaiian style of jewelry with an enameled name on it. I got on my knees and put it back under the table. If the table had not been glass, I would have missed it.
There was a small notepad next to the cordless phone. From under the table you could see some writing on the bottom of the pad. I got up and turned the pad over. There were three sets of initials and three sets of what I assumed were dollar amounts. I ripped off the paper and put it in my pocket. The police would have to do with the impressing on the next page.
Poor Greenie. He was all dressed up with no where to go. I wondered if the next elevator he took was going up or down.
I put the two grocery bags in a Hefty I found in the kitchen and left Greenie's apartment. My trip back to the Rover was uneventful. I tossed the garbage bag in the back.
"Where to now?" Kua asked.
I looked out through the rain streaked windshield of the Rover and shook my head. I don't know if it was the rain water or perspiration that dripped down the side of my face, but it had the same effect. The last thing I wanted to do was get mixed up in a murder.
"Take me to Elaine's."
Elaine's was a bar and grill, though not in the regular sense. They opened at six to serve breakfast and closed at one, just late enough to serve the end of shift dinner. Cocktails were served as long as the doors were open. I went there looking for Ronnie.
Ronald Crown was a detective in the police department. We had worked together on a couple of cases way back when. The reason I thought of him was that he liked football. Better yet, he liked to gamble on football.
The heavy rain made the traffic on Pensacola Street look like a parking lot. Kua made a right turn on Beretainia and stopped in the middle of midday traffic. We inched our way toward downtown through the rain and cars.
"What you up to Mr. Darling?"
I looked over at Kua and shrugged. "Just trying to help out the daughter of an old friend."
"She in big trouble."
He had seen her apartment.
"Yeah. It would seem so." I paused. "I got an old debt to pay."
Kua kept his eyes on the road. "You must have run up a big tab."
ch5 pg 31-32
MICHAEL GREEN was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. The soles of his Nikes looked new, the latest style. His dark hair was carefully combed and cut short. On his right wrist he wore an I.D. bracelet, on his left was what looked like a Rolex. He was a handsome man who seemed like he held anything but a government job. Yuppie was the description that came to mind.
He lay there next to his coffee table with a wine bottle next to his hand. Greenie was colder than the beers in my refrigerator.
HIs apartment was sparsely furnished. To the left was the bedroom and to my right was his kitchen. I imagined him as the kind of person that liked money in the bank as opposed to material possessions. His living room consisted of a T.V. and a stereo; he didn't even own a DVD player. The couch looked second hand, or maybe just over used. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of paper towels from the dispenser hanging over the sink. I used them to search his place.
I poked around his spartan living room. There on his glass coffee table sat his cordless phone and a note pad. Sitting there in plain sight was a folder that held a plane ticket. Grasping it with the paper towel, I checked the date and destination. Greenie was going to Las Vegas. He had planned to take the Wednesday night redeye and return the next day. His arrival back in Honolulu was Thursday afternoon. Total time in the land of lost wages was five hours. I set the sheaf of tickets back on the glass.
His windows were all fogged because of the humidity, but from where I stood he had a spectacular view of a rain drenched Diamond Head.
I walked into his kitchen and looked into his refrigerator. This guy was the consummate bachelor. He lived off fast food or take out for the only thing in his fridge was some ketchup and beer. There wasn't even any ice in the freezer. There were two glasses on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. The first one I sniffed seemed to contain water, the other smelled like scotch. The dark liquid had settled to the bottom of the glass while the top part looked clear. A half empty bottle of Dewars with it's cap off stood near by. The cabinets below the counter yielded nothing.
Greenie's bathroom was surprisingly clean for a bachelor. Tooth paste and a disposable razor sat next to the sink. His slightly worn tooth brush hung by itself on the wall next to the basin. The toilet bowl was sparkling clean and filled with dyed antiseptic water. Toilet paper and scrubbing powder occupied the lower cabinets.
His bed was made military style, all the corners were tucked in. A light colored comforter covered the bed. The pillow cases matched the color of the sheets. If I had a quarter, I could have bounced one off his blanket. I slid my hand under the mattress and walked around his bed. I found nothing.
He lay there next to his coffee table with a wine bottle next to his hand. Greenie was colder than the beers in my refrigerator.
HIs apartment was sparsely furnished. To the left was the bedroom and to my right was his kitchen. I imagined him as the kind of person that liked money in the bank as opposed to material possessions. His living room consisted of a T.V. and a stereo; he didn't even own a DVD player. The couch looked second hand, or maybe just over used. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of paper towels from the dispenser hanging over the sink. I used them to search his place.
I poked around his spartan living room. There on his glass coffee table sat his cordless phone and a note pad. Sitting there in plain sight was a folder that held a plane ticket. Grasping it with the paper towel, I checked the date and destination. Greenie was going to Las Vegas. He had planned to take the Wednesday night redeye and return the next day. His arrival back in Honolulu was Thursday afternoon. Total time in the land of lost wages was five hours. I set the sheaf of tickets back on the glass.
His windows were all fogged because of the humidity, but from where I stood he had a spectacular view of a rain drenched Diamond Head.
I walked into his kitchen and looked into his refrigerator. This guy was the consummate bachelor. He lived off fast food or take out for the only thing in his fridge was some ketchup and beer. There wasn't even any ice in the freezer. There were two glasses on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. The first one I sniffed seemed to contain water, the other smelled like scotch. The dark liquid had settled to the bottom of the glass while the top part looked clear. A half empty bottle of Dewars with it's cap off stood near by. The cabinets below the counter yielded nothing.
Greenie's bathroom was surprisingly clean for a bachelor. Tooth paste and a disposable razor sat next to the sink. His slightly worn tooth brush hung by itself on the wall next to the basin. The toilet bowl was sparkling clean and filled with dyed antiseptic water. Toilet paper and scrubbing powder occupied the lower cabinets.
His bed was made military style, all the corners were tucked in. A light colored comforter covered the bed. The pillow cases matched the color of the sheets. If I had a quarter, I could have bounced one off his blanket. I slid my hand under the mattress and walked around his bed. I found nothing.
ch5 pg 29-30
GREENIE lived in an apartment in central Honolulu. It was just a short hop around the mountain ridge to his neighborhood. Most of the residential areas were located within the valleys rivers and streams had carved out of the volcanic rock.
Makiki is a densely populated area that was strewn with high rise condos and apartment buildings. The streets were narrow and lined with parked cars night and day. An open stall was as precious as gold.
"Stop here."
Kua pulled next to a neighborhood grocery store that was located in the lobby of a smaller building. I went in and bought about twenty dollars worth of junk food, enough to fill two shopping bags. I placed them in the back seat and we proceeded to Greenie's place.
I told Kua to park around the corner. This would be tricky.
"Wait for me here. Same thing. If I'm not out in a half hour, go back to the hotel."
"You sure?" he asked.
"If I'm not back by then, there won't be too much you can do for me. Except call my lawyer."
He nodded to me.
I grabbed the sunglasses off his face and opened the door. I grabbed the two shopping bags and walked up the block in the rain.
Michael Green lived in a large ell shaped condo that stood about twenty stories high. The longer side of the building faced the ocean, while the shorter side faced Diamond Head. All the lanais had a view; top dollar could be asked for all units.
For a City and County worker, Michael Green lived in style.
The lobby was located in the corner of the building adjacent the tenant parking. i clutched the two shopping bags as I dodged the puddles and made my way across the the flooded asphalt. Fortunately, three people got out of their cars ahead of me and headed for the the lobby door. I hurried to catch up with them. Up ahead, I could see the security phone on the wall next to the doorway. I got there just as the last person was opening the door. Like I had hoped, because of the rain and the shopping bags, he held the door open for me.
I once had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of a shop lifter named Rollie. The fact that we occupied the same cell is a story for another day. He told me that the key to success was to act like you belonged there. Blend in with the crowd, act like you work there, and you'll never be recognized. Walk out the door like you own it and chances are you will. In other words, confidence meant success.
"Whew! Some weather huh?" I said behind the sunglasses.
The guy grinned at me. "Liquid Sunshine."
I smiled back. We both got into the elevator and pushed buttons for our floors. i chose the one to the floor above Greenie's, the local guy pushed a button three floors below. Now I would be able to exit on the right floor without him knowing which one it was. Just in case anyone asked.
I took a step back and stood there dripping on the floor.
"You should have drove."
I smiled sheepishly. "I just got here from the mainland. I haven't had time to find a car."
"Really? My cousin like sell his Toyota. Only like two grand. Get a/c and one nice stereo. Let me give you his number."
He took out an envelope and wrote down his cousin's name and number. "Tell him Kawika told you for call."
"Why thank you. That's what I like about the islands, you are all so helpful." I smiled at him and held out my hand.
The door opened and Kawika got out. "Remember to tell him my name."
I thanked him again.
The elevator doors closed. I felt a little guilty about taking advantage of his hospitality. The 'aloha spirit' was alive and well here.
The car stopped with a jerk and I got out. Holding the two shopping bags I walked down the hall to Greenie's apartment. Now came the tricky part. It had been a long time since I had picked a lock.
I put the shopping bad down in front of the door. The pick set I had brought along was like a small grass cutter. You inserted the pick into the lock and cranked the handles together. The tumblers and pins were manipulated until the lock turned.
I hoped the deadbolt was off.
A bead of sweat dripped off the end of my nose. I heard a door open down the hall. I extracted the pick from the lock and dropped it into the shopping bad below. I put my hand on the door know and put my hand in my pocket. An elderly Chinese woman passed me and smiled. She walked down the hall and waited for the elevator.
To my surprise, the door was unlocked. I braced the door with my foot and picked up the shopping bags.
I entered Greenie's apartment.
Makiki is a densely populated area that was strewn with high rise condos and apartment buildings. The streets were narrow and lined with parked cars night and day. An open stall was as precious as gold.
"Stop here."
Kua pulled next to a neighborhood grocery store that was located in the lobby of a smaller building. I went in and bought about twenty dollars worth of junk food, enough to fill two shopping bags. I placed them in the back seat and we proceeded to Greenie's place.
I told Kua to park around the corner. This would be tricky.
"Wait for me here. Same thing. If I'm not out in a half hour, go back to the hotel."
"You sure?" he asked.
"If I'm not back by then, there won't be too much you can do for me. Except call my lawyer."
He nodded to me.
I grabbed the sunglasses off his face and opened the door. I grabbed the two shopping bags and walked up the block in the rain.
Michael Green lived in a large ell shaped condo that stood about twenty stories high. The longer side of the building faced the ocean, while the shorter side faced Diamond Head. All the lanais had a view; top dollar could be asked for all units.
For a City and County worker, Michael Green lived in style.
The lobby was located in the corner of the building adjacent the tenant parking. i clutched the two shopping bags as I dodged the puddles and made my way across the the flooded asphalt. Fortunately, three people got out of their cars ahead of me and headed for the the lobby door. I hurried to catch up with them. Up ahead, I could see the security phone on the wall next to the doorway. I got there just as the last person was opening the door. Like I had hoped, because of the rain and the shopping bags, he held the door open for me.
I once had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of a shop lifter named Rollie. The fact that we occupied the same cell is a story for another day. He told me that the key to success was to act like you belonged there. Blend in with the crowd, act like you work there, and you'll never be recognized. Walk out the door like you own it and chances are you will. In other words, confidence meant success.
"Whew! Some weather huh?" I said behind the sunglasses.
The guy grinned at me. "Liquid Sunshine."
I smiled back. We both got into the elevator and pushed buttons for our floors. i chose the one to the floor above Greenie's, the local guy pushed a button three floors below. Now I would be able to exit on the right floor without him knowing which one it was. Just in case anyone asked.
I took a step back and stood there dripping on the floor.
"You should have drove."
I smiled sheepishly. "I just got here from the mainland. I haven't had time to find a car."
"Really? My cousin like sell his Toyota. Only like two grand. Get a/c and one nice stereo. Let me give you his number."
He took out an envelope and wrote down his cousin's name and number. "Tell him Kawika told you for call."
"Why thank you. That's what I like about the islands, you are all so helpful." I smiled at him and held out my hand.
The door opened and Kawika got out. "Remember to tell him my name."
I thanked him again.
The elevator doors closed. I felt a little guilty about taking advantage of his hospitality. The 'aloha spirit' was alive and well here.
The car stopped with a jerk and I got out. Holding the two shopping bags I walked down the hall to Greenie's apartment. Now came the tricky part. It had been a long time since I had picked a lock.
I put the shopping bad down in front of the door. The pick set I had brought along was like a small grass cutter. You inserted the pick into the lock and cranked the handles together. The tumblers and pins were manipulated until the lock turned.
I hoped the deadbolt was off.
A bead of sweat dripped off the end of my nose. I heard a door open down the hall. I extracted the pick from the lock and dropped it into the shopping bad below. I put my hand on the door know and put my hand in my pocket. An elderly Chinese woman passed me and smiled. She walked down the hall and waited for the elevator.
To my surprise, the door was unlocked. I braced the door with my foot and picked up the shopping bags.
I entered Greenie's apartment.
ch4 pg 26-28
NUUANU Valley was where the Pali Highway snaked through the mountains to the windward side of the island. It's altitude and cool weather made it the perfect place for the royalty and wealthy of early Hawaii to spend their summers. Queen Emma's Summer Palace, the Royal Tombs and some of the older and larger estates had been built there in the cool and lush valley. It was also where Chucky Silva lived.
Kua proceeded to drive into the older section of the area. Most of the houses there were built in the forties and fifties; the architecture contrasted with the newer homes built since. We pulled up to number forty four and scanned the area. The small wooden house sat right off the sidewalk. A dull grey mail box hung on for dear life to a metal post. From the sidewalk, wooded steps led directly up to the front door. Curtains hung behind the two large picture windows above the front porch.
The left side of the house was were the driveway extended past it and behind. The garage was apparently located in back for it was not in sight. Numerous cars were parked on the cement all the way to the rear.
"Just stay here. If I run into trouble, just leave. Go back to the hotel and let Mark know where I am." This place just looked like trouble and I didn't want anyone else to get into it.
Kua nodded. "How long you want me to give you?"
I looked a the house again. "If I'm not back in fifteen, you better get some help. Call the cops and leave."
Drops of rain splashed the armrest as I got out and walked to the front door. I could barely see down the driveway the rain was so thick.
What I thought was music floated though the air as I knocked on the front door.
Through the thin material that served as curtains I could make out the furnishings of the front room. A couch, a recliner and a coffee table face the windows. From where I stood it reminded me of a photo layouts I saw in magazines of the forties depicting the perfect house of the fifties. Everything sat there like a museum display, untouched for what I imagined to be a long time. I waited before knocking again.
The diorama inside remained deserted so I walked down the driveway to see what was behind the house. I passed a four wheel drive truck and a couple of late model sedans parked along a fence. As I approached the back, I could hear the music getting louder.
I turned the corner of the house to see six locals sitting around drinking beer and playing music under the protection of the garage. A couple of coolers and a smoking hibachi, or charcoal grill, burned next to them. They were in the middle of grilling a large fish wrapped in foil. One guy had a guitar and another had a ukulele. The music stopped as I approached. I walked out of the rain into their midst and shook the water off my jacket. The smell of the fish cooking made my mouth water. I made a note to myself to buy a hibachi and to eat out more often.
I nodded to them. "I'm looking for Chucky Silva. Anybody here know him?"
They just stood there and looked at each other. A big local guy in the back reached into a cooler and opened another beer.
"What's it to you?" The beer bellied Japanese guitar player asked.
This was going to be hard. You didn't just walk into a gathering of locals cold and if you didn't know someone, you had no business asking questions. Then again, it never hurt to try.
"No troubles. Chucky and I have a mutual friend. I just want to make sure he's okay."
"No lie cop." A thin Chinese guy with his hair slicked back came out from behind the guitar player. The dark leathery skin on his face smoothed out as he scowled at me. On his lip was what passed as a moustache.
I shook my head. "I'm no cop. I just want to see Chucky. He might be in trouble."
"Well Chucky ain't here," Slick said. His eyes turned into slits as he watched me. I began to feel like I wasn't wanted around there. So much for island hospitality.
"Any of you know where to find him?"
They all laughed. The Japanese guy started to play the guitar again. He was accompanied by an even larger Hawaiian guy with the uke. I realized I was being ignored.
"You guys came here already. We told the other cop the same thing."
Surprise. "What other cop?" I directed the question to Slick. The lips beneath his thin moustache curled in a smile.
"Look, you going shake us down? By yourself? We told the other cop to take a hike too." He pointed down the driveway. "Beat it."
"You guys were questioned by the police?" What did the cops know about Chucky?
Slick laughed. "Yeah and we told him the same thing. Chucky ain't here. Ain't been around since Sunday. But that's normal for him. He got one girl. Don't hardly spend any time here. He come home, take one shower and he's gone again. So why no just leave us alone. Sheesh, you think you guys would get your act together."
"The other officer, he was a tall skinny haole?"
Haole was local speak for white person.
"Nah, he was one short Japanese guy like you. Only he wasn't ugly."
Slick and his crew broke out in laughter. I did my best not to laugh too.
"Just tell Chucky I'm looking for him. Tell him it's important." I handed him my card. Slick walked up and looked at it. He smiled at me and threw my card into the fire.
The rain soaked my windbreaker as I walked back up the driveway listening to their fading laughter. I wished I was partying with them.
I got into the Rover and closed the door. The large drops of rain falling on the windshield held my attention while I put things into perspective.
"You all right?" Kua asked.
I think I murmured something affirmative to him. A couple of things didn't make any sense. The cops had already been here to see Chucky, but they knew nothing of Samantha? Maybe it was for something unrelated.
As we drove on through the rain, I began to wonder about her. How deep was she in this mess? No one sent someone two hundred fifty large without some kind of message.
What was the money for and did she already know?
I decided that Michael Green was the one who could tell me.
Kua proceeded to drive into the older section of the area. Most of the houses there were built in the forties and fifties; the architecture contrasted with the newer homes built since. We pulled up to number forty four and scanned the area. The small wooden house sat right off the sidewalk. A dull grey mail box hung on for dear life to a metal post. From the sidewalk, wooded steps led directly up to the front door. Curtains hung behind the two large picture windows above the front porch.
The left side of the house was were the driveway extended past it and behind. The garage was apparently located in back for it was not in sight. Numerous cars were parked on the cement all the way to the rear.
"Just stay here. If I run into trouble, just leave. Go back to the hotel and let Mark know where I am." This place just looked like trouble and I didn't want anyone else to get into it.
Kua nodded. "How long you want me to give you?"
I looked a the house again. "If I'm not back in fifteen, you better get some help. Call the cops and leave."
Drops of rain splashed the armrest as I got out and walked to the front door. I could barely see down the driveway the rain was so thick.
What I thought was music floated though the air as I knocked on the front door.
Through the thin material that served as curtains I could make out the furnishings of the front room. A couch, a recliner and a coffee table face the windows. From where I stood it reminded me of a photo layouts I saw in magazines of the forties depicting the perfect house of the fifties. Everything sat there like a museum display, untouched for what I imagined to be a long time. I waited before knocking again.
The diorama inside remained deserted so I walked down the driveway to see what was behind the house. I passed a four wheel drive truck and a couple of late model sedans parked along a fence. As I approached the back, I could hear the music getting louder.
I turned the corner of the house to see six locals sitting around drinking beer and playing music under the protection of the garage. A couple of coolers and a smoking hibachi, or charcoal grill, burned next to them. They were in the middle of grilling a large fish wrapped in foil. One guy had a guitar and another had a ukulele. The music stopped as I approached. I walked out of the rain into their midst and shook the water off my jacket. The smell of the fish cooking made my mouth water. I made a note to myself to buy a hibachi and to eat out more often.
I nodded to them. "I'm looking for Chucky Silva. Anybody here know him?"
They just stood there and looked at each other. A big local guy in the back reached into a cooler and opened another beer.
"What's it to you?" The beer bellied Japanese guitar player asked.
This was going to be hard. You didn't just walk into a gathering of locals cold and if you didn't know someone, you had no business asking questions. Then again, it never hurt to try.
"No troubles. Chucky and I have a mutual friend. I just want to make sure he's okay."
"No lie cop." A thin Chinese guy with his hair slicked back came out from behind the guitar player. The dark leathery skin on his face smoothed out as he scowled at me. On his lip was what passed as a moustache.
I shook my head. "I'm no cop. I just want to see Chucky. He might be in trouble."
"Well Chucky ain't here," Slick said. His eyes turned into slits as he watched me. I began to feel like I wasn't wanted around there. So much for island hospitality.
"Any of you know where to find him?"
They all laughed. The Japanese guy started to play the guitar again. He was accompanied by an even larger Hawaiian guy with the uke. I realized I was being ignored.
"You guys came here already. We told the other cop the same thing."
Surprise. "What other cop?" I directed the question to Slick. The lips beneath his thin moustache curled in a smile.
"Look, you going shake us down? By yourself? We told the other cop to take a hike too." He pointed down the driveway. "Beat it."
"You guys were questioned by the police?" What did the cops know about Chucky?
Slick laughed. "Yeah and we told him the same thing. Chucky ain't here. Ain't been around since Sunday. But that's normal for him. He got one girl. Don't hardly spend any time here. He come home, take one shower and he's gone again. So why no just leave us alone. Sheesh, you think you guys would get your act together."
"The other officer, he was a tall skinny haole?"
Haole was local speak for white person.
"Nah, he was one short Japanese guy like you. Only he wasn't ugly."
Slick and his crew broke out in laughter. I did my best not to laugh too.
"Just tell Chucky I'm looking for him. Tell him it's important." I handed him my card. Slick walked up and looked at it. He smiled at me and threw my card into the fire.
The rain soaked my windbreaker as I walked back up the driveway listening to their fading laughter. I wished I was partying with them.
I got into the Rover and closed the door. The large drops of rain falling on the windshield held my attention while I put things into perspective.
"You all right?" Kua asked.
I think I murmured something affirmative to him. A couple of things didn't make any sense. The cops had already been here to see Chucky, but they knew nothing of Samantha? Maybe it was for something unrelated.
As we drove on through the rain, I began to wonder about her. How deep was she in this mess? No one sent someone two hundred fifty large without some kind of message.
What was the money for and did she already know?
I decided that Michael Green was the one who could tell me.
ch3 pg 24-25
HER apartment was a mess. The cushions of her couch were strewn across the living room floor. Foam bulged out in several places were they had been slashed open and searched. The drawers of her entertainment center had been pulled out and their contents scattered across the rug. DVDs and compact discs were lay next to their opened cases. About the only thing left alone was her bookshelf. On it were a couple of photos of her and her father. I could see a clean spot in the dust where Royce's badge had lain.
In her bedroom, the contents of her dresser had been dumped out on the bed. Clothes and papers lay everywhere along with assorted underwear of different colors. Her dresses hung haphazardly in her closet and the top shelf had been cleared. Boxes of shoes littered the floor.
I looked at Kua. He shrugged. Someone was obviously looking for something.
The medicine cabinet was open in her bathroom. Makeup bottles and other unidentifiable containers had been opened and emptied on the counter. I checked the cabinet below and found their contents intact. I reached in and shook all the cans of cleanser and checked the rolls of toilet paper. People tried to hide things where you least expected them too.
The kitchen was a shambles. Jars of food had been emptied into the sink to make what looked like some kind of beauty creme. The refrigerator was empty of all containers. Cereal and bread had been searched and were spread across the kitchen counter. The Quaker Oats man smiled at me from the floor.
Kua and I left Samantha's apartment.
There was something about the place that bothered me. I put it on a back burner as the elevator doors opened and we made our way back to the Rover.
Kua pulled some parking warning off the windshield and tossed it on the ground.
"Wait."
Kua looked at me.
"I want to talk to the security guys."
I walked back to the lobby and knocked on the glass door. The same guy we saw earlier came forward. I motioned him outside.
He smoothed his moustache again. "Can I help you?"
"Maybe you can. I noticed you put a ticket on our window today."
He slunk back from me. "It's just procedure. Everyone that parks there for ten minutes or longer gets a warning." He was too old and too under paid to be taking any heat.
"Relax. I'm not complaining about it. I'm wondering if the guards here keep records of all the cars they ticket."
The old moustache eyed me. "Who you again?"
I smiled at him and held out my hand. "The names Darling. I'm a friend of Samantha Kim."
He looked me over and stroked his moustache again before answering. "The name's Lusi. Samantha's one good girl. I wouldn't want for her to get in any trouble."
"Lusi, can you check to see if any other cars were tagged for Monday, say around lunch time?"
He looked around to see if anyone was watching him. "Let me check."
Three cars had been tagged on Monday during the hours of nine a.m. to five p.m.; a Mercedes sedan, a Chevy Van and a Ford Taurus. I made note of all three license numbers and thanked my new friend.
"What do you think?" I asked Kua. Had he seen the same thing I saw?
He kept his eyes on the road.
"Something wasn't right," I said.
He nodded. "At first it seemed like they were looking for something small. But then why not search the bathroom cabinets and the bookshelf?"
I agreed. "If it was a small item, why leave her cosmetics and toiletries closed and intact? Then go and inspect the whole contents of her kitchen?"
If you were looking for a large sum of money, why look in small places? If you were looking for something small like a safety deposit box key, why leave so many other hiding places untouched? Either Samantha had lied about her apartment or someone didn't know what they were looking for.
"You get a lead on the guys that did it?" Kua asked.
I remained silent. The less he knew the better off he would be.
We stopped off at a phone booth long enough for me to look up and address. It was time to check out the players.
In her bedroom, the contents of her dresser had been dumped out on the bed. Clothes and papers lay everywhere along with assorted underwear of different colors. Her dresses hung haphazardly in her closet and the top shelf had been cleared. Boxes of shoes littered the floor.
I looked at Kua. He shrugged. Someone was obviously looking for something.
The medicine cabinet was open in her bathroom. Makeup bottles and other unidentifiable containers had been opened and emptied on the counter. I checked the cabinet below and found their contents intact. I reached in and shook all the cans of cleanser and checked the rolls of toilet paper. People tried to hide things where you least expected them too.
The kitchen was a shambles. Jars of food had been emptied into the sink to make what looked like some kind of beauty creme. The refrigerator was empty of all containers. Cereal and bread had been searched and were spread across the kitchen counter. The Quaker Oats man smiled at me from the floor.
Kua and I left Samantha's apartment.
There was something about the place that bothered me. I put it on a back burner as the elevator doors opened and we made our way back to the Rover.
Kua pulled some parking warning off the windshield and tossed it on the ground.
"Wait."
Kua looked at me.
"I want to talk to the security guys."
I walked back to the lobby and knocked on the glass door. The same guy we saw earlier came forward. I motioned him outside.
He smoothed his moustache again. "Can I help you?"
"Maybe you can. I noticed you put a ticket on our window today."
He slunk back from me. "It's just procedure. Everyone that parks there for ten minutes or longer gets a warning." He was too old and too under paid to be taking any heat.
"Relax. I'm not complaining about it. I'm wondering if the guards here keep records of all the cars they ticket."
The old moustache eyed me. "Who you again?"
I smiled at him and held out my hand. "The names Darling. I'm a friend of Samantha Kim."
He looked me over and stroked his moustache again before answering. "The name's Lusi. Samantha's one good girl. I wouldn't want for her to get in any trouble."
"Lusi, can you check to see if any other cars were tagged for Monday, say around lunch time?"
He looked around to see if anyone was watching him. "Let me check."
Three cars had been tagged on Monday during the hours of nine a.m. to five p.m.; a Mercedes sedan, a Chevy Van and a Ford Taurus. I made note of all three license numbers and thanked my new friend.
"What do you think?" I asked Kua. Had he seen the same thing I saw?
He kept his eyes on the road.
"Something wasn't right," I said.
He nodded. "At first it seemed like they were looking for something small. But then why not search the bathroom cabinets and the bookshelf?"
I agreed. "If it was a small item, why leave her cosmetics and toiletries closed and intact? Then go and inspect the whole contents of her kitchen?"
If you were looking for a large sum of money, why look in small places? If you were looking for something small like a safety deposit box key, why leave so many other hiding places untouched? Either Samantha had lied about her apartment or someone didn't know what they were looking for.
"You get a lead on the guys that did it?" Kua asked.
I remained silent. The less he knew the better off he would be.
We stopped off at a phone booth long enough for me to look up and address. It was time to check out the players.
ch3 pg 21-23
I headed back through the lobby and passed by one of the hotel boutiques that Leinani sometimes worked in. I instinctively looked in and hoped for the best. I got the worst.
There she was, helping a customer at the counter. She wore an over sized blazer, a white tee shirt and straight leg jeans. The way her black shoulder length hair was knotted up in a pony tail only served to bring back memories.
She stood a head shorter than I but her body was well proportioned. What little make up she wore only served to bring out more of the true beauty she had been blessed with. Leinani was the type of woman who didn't have to do much to look good. She had probably picked out the jacket she was wearing at the local thrift shop. She always looked good.
We met one day as I was visiting Willy. Mutual attraction electrified the room and she had agreed to have dinner with me. She blamed it on the pheromones. I can honestly say I don't remember much about our first meat together for I was mesmerized by her charms. Six years of our live blew by in the time she took to look over at me over the candle lit table. Then reality took over fantasy.
She was part of the past, not part of the future. We had made our run of it and tried our best. It all came to an end over another candle lit table. She left before I could tell her I now owned a piece of the hotel we were dining at. Or maybe I just forgot to tell her.
She looked up from the register and our eyes met. She didn't smile or wave; her expression like mine did not change. I could feel her eyes on my back as I kept going. There was too much there for me to deal with. Not right now. Maybe not ever.
The doorman smiled at me as I got back into the Rover. Kua was just finishing up his last burger.
"How'd it go boss?"
The image of Leinani had made my heart beat a little faster. "It went okay."
Kua studied my face closely. He knew who else besides Willy worked there. He shook his head and put the Rover in gear.
"Where to now?"
"Head toward Makiki. I got something to check out." I tried to shake Leinani out of my head. Like bad habit, she appeared when she felt like it.
We drove on through the rain up towards Punchbowl crater. That was where the National Cemetary was along with a school named after Robert Louis Stevenson. Punchbowl was an older section of town that was lined with single family homes, most of which were built decades ago. We were headed for an apartment complex that seemed out of place amongst the older houses.
The concrete complex was terraced in five symmetrical rows. All the balconies were lined with bougainvilleas, probably to help block the noise from the street. Each level contained ten apartments.
We pulled up to the parking garage only to find that I had forgotten to grab Samantha's parking card. Kua turned around the corner and drove up to the front door. The driveway encircled a manicured lawn sprinkled with ginger and Bird of Paradise plants. He locked the Rover and followed me to the lobby.
An elderly Polynesian man dressed in a uniform that looked to be a size too small came out of the glass doors and approached us. The buttons on his shirt looked ready to pop and his pants were so tight, his white socks showed. He smoothed out his salt and pepper moustache before addressing us.
"You can't park there."
"We'll only be a minute. Gotta go upstairs to make sure I didn't leave the stove on. My girlfriend will kill me."
White socks looked at me closely and nodded his head. "I know how it is brah. Better be safe than sorry."
Samantha's apartment key stood out among the others on her ring. We got inside and headed upstairs. Kua stood behind me as I opened Samantha's door.
There she was, helping a customer at the counter. She wore an over sized blazer, a white tee shirt and straight leg jeans. The way her black shoulder length hair was knotted up in a pony tail only served to bring back memories.
She stood a head shorter than I but her body was well proportioned. What little make up she wore only served to bring out more of the true beauty she had been blessed with. Leinani was the type of woman who didn't have to do much to look good. She had probably picked out the jacket she was wearing at the local thrift shop. She always looked good.
We met one day as I was visiting Willy. Mutual attraction electrified the room and she had agreed to have dinner with me. She blamed it on the pheromones. I can honestly say I don't remember much about our first meat together for I was mesmerized by her charms. Six years of our live blew by in the time she took to look over at me over the candle lit table. Then reality took over fantasy.
She was part of the past, not part of the future. We had made our run of it and tried our best. It all came to an end over another candle lit table. She left before I could tell her I now owned a piece of the hotel we were dining at. Or maybe I just forgot to tell her.
She looked up from the register and our eyes met. She didn't smile or wave; her expression like mine did not change. I could feel her eyes on my back as I kept going. There was too much there for me to deal with. Not right now. Maybe not ever.
The doorman smiled at me as I got back into the Rover. Kua was just finishing up his last burger.
"How'd it go boss?"
The image of Leinani had made my heart beat a little faster. "It went okay."
Kua studied my face closely. He knew who else besides Willy worked there. He shook his head and put the Rover in gear.
"Where to now?"
"Head toward Makiki. I got something to check out." I tried to shake Leinani out of my head. Like bad habit, she appeared when she felt like it.
We drove on through the rain up towards Punchbowl crater. That was where the National Cemetary was along with a school named after Robert Louis Stevenson. Punchbowl was an older section of town that was lined with single family homes, most of which were built decades ago. We were headed for an apartment complex that seemed out of place amongst the older houses.
The concrete complex was terraced in five symmetrical rows. All the balconies were lined with bougainvilleas, probably to help block the noise from the street. Each level contained ten apartments.
We pulled up to the parking garage only to find that I had forgotten to grab Samantha's parking card. Kua turned around the corner and drove up to the front door. The driveway encircled a manicured lawn sprinkled with ginger and Bird of Paradise plants. He locked the Rover and followed me to the lobby.
An elderly Polynesian man dressed in a uniform that looked to be a size too small came out of the glass doors and approached us. The buttons on his shirt looked ready to pop and his pants were so tight, his white socks showed. He smoothed out his salt and pepper moustache before addressing us.
"You can't park there."
"We'll only be a minute. Gotta go upstairs to make sure I didn't leave the stove on. My girlfriend will kill me."
White socks looked at me closely and nodded his head. "I know how it is brah. Better be safe than sorry."
Samantha's apartment key stood out among the others on her ring. We got inside and headed upstairs. Kua stood behind me as I opened Samantha's door.
ch3 pg 19-21
I found the morning paper and checked the headlines.
Great. More rain. I was just about half way through the sports section when Kua took a left and pulled onto Ena Road.
He reached into the basket for another burger as we pulled up to the front door of the Hilton.
The front door man watched me approach trying to decide whether or not there was a tip for him in my pocket. The blank stare I got told me he had me pegged as just another local. He turned his back as I neared and walked back to his podium.
I stood in front of him and nodded, "Is Willy here?"
"Willy who?" He asked me with all the interest of a car salesman looking for prospects in the unemployment line. He fingered the whistle he had strung around his neck and waited for a cab to come up the driveway. I guess he had better things to do than help out a guy who was looking for a friend.
The problem I had with him was that the friend i was looking for was a good friend. The door man was acting as if he would have trouble giving me the time of day. I tried another approach.
"Willy Kanemoto, who else? How many Willys you got working here?" Sometimes an attitude helped. That and the fact that Willy was a Bell Captain helped to change his expression.
His faced relaxed and broke into a false smile. "Oh, Willy! You can find him at the Diamond Head door." He pointed to the rear of the hotel complex.
I thanked him as I walked away. I glanced back and saw him talking into his radio.
The Hilton was one of the premier hotels on the island. It's four towers and excellent restaurants drew thousands of visitors a month. It helped to have two thousand rooms, it's own beach, it's own lagoon and it's own boat all on the property. The best hotel job in Waikiki was at the Hilton.
I know, I worked there once.
The penguins and flamingos watched me cross the main lobby and head toward the rear entrance of the hotel. Three tour buses were parked front to back with tourists lined up and down the walkway either getting on or getting off.
The path I took lead me to a tall, lanky local Japanese male holding a clipboard and marking pen. His thin build contadicted the fact that he handled most of the suitcases he was marking with one hand. For each bag, he called out a name and room number. His hair was cut close to his head and he sported a neatly trimmed goatee.
Willy and six other bellmen were marking bags lined up in front of the door. The line of suitcases was growing longer.
"Willy."
"Eh, what's up Dee?" Willy said without looking up. He looked like he was busy and couldn't be bothered. Bellmen were loading bags on their carts and heading toward the elevators. None of them gave me a second look.
"I was just passing by and decided to stop by and see how you were doing." I was feeling a bit awkward; it had been awhile since I last saw him.
Willy looked at me and stopped what he was doing. "Dee, you show up at the wierdest times. What can I do for you?"
Four of the other bellmen had run off with their loads. Even Willy had back up.
"You know I only come to you for help," I said.
He paused and looked at me. "I get off at four. I'll stop by."
Samantha came to mind. It wasn't time to show my cards. "Uh, why don't I just meet you at the usual place."
He gave me a look and nodded his head.
Willy and I seemed to communicate without speaking. He was a full blooded Okinawan while I only held half that distinction.
Somewhere along the line I had heard that Okinawans were mystics of some sort. The relationship Willy and I had was difficult to explain. We nodded to each other as I walked away. Our business was done.
I stopped and faced him. "By the way, tell the doorman I appreciated the extra help."
Willy chuckled and went back to his list.
Great. More rain. I was just about half way through the sports section when Kua took a left and pulled onto Ena Road.
He reached into the basket for another burger as we pulled up to the front door of the Hilton.
The front door man watched me approach trying to decide whether or not there was a tip for him in my pocket. The blank stare I got told me he had me pegged as just another local. He turned his back as I neared and walked back to his podium.
I stood in front of him and nodded, "Is Willy here?"
"Willy who?" He asked me with all the interest of a car salesman looking for prospects in the unemployment line. He fingered the whistle he had strung around his neck and waited for a cab to come up the driveway. I guess he had better things to do than help out a guy who was looking for a friend.
The problem I had with him was that the friend i was looking for was a good friend. The door man was acting as if he would have trouble giving me the time of day. I tried another approach.
"Willy Kanemoto, who else? How many Willys you got working here?" Sometimes an attitude helped. That and the fact that Willy was a Bell Captain helped to change his expression.
His faced relaxed and broke into a false smile. "Oh, Willy! You can find him at the Diamond Head door." He pointed to the rear of the hotel complex.
I thanked him as I walked away. I glanced back and saw him talking into his radio.
The Hilton was one of the premier hotels on the island. It's four towers and excellent restaurants drew thousands of visitors a month. It helped to have two thousand rooms, it's own beach, it's own lagoon and it's own boat all on the property. The best hotel job in Waikiki was at the Hilton.
I know, I worked there once.
The penguins and flamingos watched me cross the main lobby and head toward the rear entrance of the hotel. Three tour buses were parked front to back with tourists lined up and down the walkway either getting on or getting off.
The path I took lead me to a tall, lanky local Japanese male holding a clipboard and marking pen. His thin build contadicted the fact that he handled most of the suitcases he was marking with one hand. For each bag, he called out a name and room number. His hair was cut close to his head and he sported a neatly trimmed goatee.
Willy and six other bellmen were marking bags lined up in front of the door. The line of suitcases was growing longer.
"Willy."
"Eh, what's up Dee?" Willy said without looking up. He looked like he was busy and couldn't be bothered. Bellmen were loading bags on their carts and heading toward the elevators. None of them gave me a second look.
"I was just passing by and decided to stop by and see how you were doing." I was feeling a bit awkward; it had been awhile since I last saw him.
Willy looked at me and stopped what he was doing. "Dee, you show up at the wierdest times. What can I do for you?"
Four of the other bellmen had run off with their loads. Even Willy had back up.
"You know I only come to you for help," I said.
He paused and looked at me. "I get off at four. I'll stop by."
Samantha came to mind. It wasn't time to show my cards. "Uh, why don't I just meet you at the usual place."
He gave me a look and nodded his head.
Willy and I seemed to communicate without speaking. He was a full blooded Okinawan while I only held half that distinction.
Somewhere along the line I had heard that Okinawans were mystics of some sort. The relationship Willy and I had was difficult to explain. We nodded to each other as I walked away. Our business was done.
I stopped and faced him. "By the way, tell the doorman I appreciated the extra help."
Willy chuckled and went back to his list.
ch3 pg 17-18
THE elevators the employees took to move from floor to floor were located adjacent the the guest elevators, they were just hidden from view. Instead of opening to a plush lobby, they stopped at a service landing located on each floor. There, the maids kept their carts and stored towels and linens used in the rooms.
The Down arrow glowed as the bell rang. I got into the empty car and pondered my next move. I thought back into the past and tried to think of someone who could help me. Some old doors would be opening today and being out of touch for five years didn't leave me with too many options.
The stainless doors opened up on the sub basement. Kua Stephens was there, waiting for me next to the Rover. He was smiling.
The sub basement was not like the other floors of the parking lot. Most of the employees parked there, so the bright lights and patrolling guards were non existent. Yet it was one of the most secure floors on property. Vince and his family lived there.
The gleeful cries of young voices filled my ears. Two bleached blond bronze skinned ragamuffins came rushing out to meet me. They got hold of my legs and refused to let go. Vince's kids had been adopted by the whole hotel.
Vince came out of this stall and threw me a nod. His overalls were covered with grease and a couple of wrenches bulged out of his pockets.
I bent down to give the two elves a hug. They reminded me of miniature versions of a beach bunny and a surfer.
"Uncle, how is Santa going to come? We don't have a chimney."
"Didn't I tell you? It depends on what you wished for Christmas. If it's too big, he has to send it down the laundry chute."
That earned me a skeptical look. Vince's boy hit his sister on the shoulder.
"Uncle Kua, is that true?"
Kua looked at me for help.
"Eh, no bother Uncle Dee and Uncle Kua," said Vince as gathered up his children and ushered them into his home.
Kua stood a compact six foot one and carried about two hundred pounds, all solid muscle. That's not the reason I hired him. He possessed a degree in criminal science and was a former police officer.
"What's planned for today?" he asked, opening the door for me.
"Just a couple of stops," I said as Kua got in the Rover. "What did they give us to eat?"
He handed me a woven basket. The first package contained a ham and egg sandwich.
"That must be yours," Kua said chuckling.
"What did you get?"
"Well they told me we were taking a little road trip, so I got me six cheeseburgers. Something to eat while driving."
I handed him a burger and watched him take a large bite. A sound came out of his mouth that sounded like: "Where to?"
"The Hilton."
More sounds: "You got it."
I handed him a napkin as we drove out of the garage and into the rain.
Kua Stephens was not of Caucasian decent. He was a large Polynesian, half Hawaiian, half something or everything else. I met him one day while walking along the beach. He was playing beachboy and was looking for something better. He explained to me how he had resigned from the department feeling frustrated and useless.
His warm smile and easy disposition made him perfect for his job. Hotel security was almost all P.R. The guests always liked to associate with the locals and being out in the open and around people was easy for him.
I preferred to be out of the spotlight.
The Down arrow glowed as the bell rang. I got into the empty car and pondered my next move. I thought back into the past and tried to think of someone who could help me. Some old doors would be opening today and being out of touch for five years didn't leave me with too many options.
The stainless doors opened up on the sub basement. Kua Stephens was there, waiting for me next to the Rover. He was smiling.
The sub basement was not like the other floors of the parking lot. Most of the employees parked there, so the bright lights and patrolling guards were non existent. Yet it was one of the most secure floors on property. Vince and his family lived there.
The gleeful cries of young voices filled my ears. Two bleached blond bronze skinned ragamuffins came rushing out to meet me. They got hold of my legs and refused to let go. Vince's kids had been adopted by the whole hotel.
Vince came out of this stall and threw me a nod. His overalls were covered with grease and a couple of wrenches bulged out of his pockets.
I bent down to give the two elves a hug. They reminded me of miniature versions of a beach bunny and a surfer.
"Uncle, how is Santa going to come? We don't have a chimney."
"Didn't I tell you? It depends on what you wished for Christmas. If it's too big, he has to send it down the laundry chute."
That earned me a skeptical look. Vince's boy hit his sister on the shoulder.
"Uncle Kua, is that true?"
Kua looked at me for help.
"Eh, no bother Uncle Dee and Uncle Kua," said Vince as gathered up his children and ushered them into his home.
Kua stood a compact six foot one and carried about two hundred pounds, all solid muscle. That's not the reason I hired him. He possessed a degree in criminal science and was a former police officer.
"What's planned for today?" he asked, opening the door for me.
"Just a couple of stops," I said as Kua got in the Rover. "What did they give us to eat?"
He handed me a woven basket. The first package contained a ham and egg sandwich.
"That must be yours," Kua said chuckling.
"What did you get?"
"Well they told me we were taking a little road trip, so I got me six cheeseburgers. Something to eat while driving."
I handed him a burger and watched him take a large bite. A sound came out of his mouth that sounded like: "Where to?"
"The Hilton."
More sounds: "You got it."
I handed him a napkin as we drove out of the garage and into the rain.
Kua Stephens was not of Caucasian decent. He was a large Polynesian, half Hawaiian, half something or everything else. I met him one day while walking along the beach. He was playing beachboy and was looking for something better. He explained to me how he had resigned from the department feeling frustrated and useless.
His warm smile and easy disposition made him perfect for his job. Hotel security was almost all P.R. The guests always liked to associate with the locals and being out in the open and around people was easy for him.
I preferred to be out of the spotlight.
ch3 pg 16-17
Her purse lay one the couch where she had left it. The first thing I noticed was a Smith and Wesson 6906 in one of the side pockets. It was a compact nine millimeter automatic that held thirteen rounds in the magazine. The pistol had no hammer and was designed to fire double action only. It was a cop gun.
I took it out and drew the slide back. There was one round already in the chamber. Samantha was ready to rock and roll. I extracted the magazine and emptied it of bullets. I put the magazine back in her Smith, and put the Smith back in her purse.
Samantha's pistol was loaded with high velocity hollow point round just recently made available to the public. Not exactly your off the shelf ammunition, they were designed to hit hard and not take prisoners. I locked the shells in my desk drawer.
Going through her wallet told me that she worked at a large upscale department store at Ala Moana, the local mall. Her drivers license told me that she was in fact thirty years old and that she was a Virgo. She had taken her I.D. picture when her hair was long and she looked nothing like the woman that was sleeping next door.
Putting her make up kit aside, I grabbed her address book and went though it without finding anything of interest. The ring of keys that lay on the bottom of her purse went into my pocket. I didn't find any bank keys.
I laced on a pair of hiking boots and went out down the hall to see Mark. From his desk in the foyer, he could see the comings and goings of all the guests on the floor.
"Mark, have someone come up and watch over my guest. Give her whatever she wants. Just don't let her out of the place."
"Guest, sir?" He looked bewildered.
"Her name is Samantha Kim. Make sure she gets taken care of." Mark must have been busy when Samantha came pounding on my door.
"Uh, she come in last night? I didn't see her name on the log sheet."
"Don't worry about it," I assured him. The people I worked for took good care of me, sometimes too good. It was nice to know I could still surprise them.
He gave me a weak smile. "I'll get Mary from customer service to come up."
I grabbed the morning paper from him and walked past the desk to the service elevators. It was faster and less crowded than the guest version.
"I'll be back around lunch," I said as the door closed behind me. The bright fluorescent lights that reflected off the waxed linoleum floor of the service landing reminded me of a hospital corridor. It was empty and sterile. I pushed the down button and waited for the car.
I took it out and drew the slide back. There was one round already in the chamber. Samantha was ready to rock and roll. I extracted the magazine and emptied it of bullets. I put the magazine back in her Smith, and put the Smith back in her purse.
Samantha's pistol was loaded with high velocity hollow point round just recently made available to the public. Not exactly your off the shelf ammunition, they were designed to hit hard and not take prisoners. I locked the shells in my desk drawer.
Going through her wallet told me that she worked at a large upscale department store at Ala Moana, the local mall. Her drivers license told me that she was in fact thirty years old and that she was a Virgo. She had taken her I.D. picture when her hair was long and she looked nothing like the woman that was sleeping next door.
Putting her make up kit aside, I grabbed her address book and went though it without finding anything of interest. The ring of keys that lay on the bottom of her purse went into my pocket. I didn't find any bank keys.
I laced on a pair of hiking boots and went out down the hall to see Mark. From his desk in the foyer, he could see the comings and goings of all the guests on the floor.
"Mark, have someone come up and watch over my guest. Give her whatever she wants. Just don't let her out of the place."
"Guest, sir?" He looked bewildered.
"Her name is Samantha Kim. Make sure she gets taken care of." Mark must have been busy when Samantha came pounding on my door.
"Uh, she come in last night? I didn't see her name on the log sheet."
"Don't worry about it," I assured him. The people I worked for took good care of me, sometimes too good. It was nice to know I could still surprise them.
He gave me a weak smile. "I'll get Mary from customer service to come up."
I grabbed the morning paper from him and walked past the desk to the service elevators. It was faster and less crowded than the guest version.
"I'll be back around lunch," I said as the door closed behind me. The bright fluorescent lights that reflected off the waxed linoleum floor of the service landing reminded me of a hospital corridor. It was empty and sterile. I pushed the down button and waited for the car.
ch3 pg 15-16
I sat at my desk and watched the rain form ringlets in the water that had gathered on my lanai. Something an old girlfriend said came back to me: when the rain falls, the grass gets wet. I never quite figured out what she meant, but it seemed to meam something now.
Samantha hadn't known who the juice was being paid to. The juice money was "donated" to a known group as operating expenses. Whether it was gambling or just a bar and grill, you had to pay to operate. Who Greenie was paying off to business was probably part of the problem. If they found out about what I think Greenie was up to, then it was big trouble. I wasn't looking forward to checking it out.
I reached for the phone. "Mark, I'm going to need the Rover in a couple of minutes. Do me a favor and see what Kua is up to."
"They're all pretty busy today Mr. Darling. You know the rain and all, keeps the guests inside." Mark paused. "I don't think Kua has much to worry about at the moment. I'll see if I can find him."
Kua worked hotel security. He was also and ex-cop. I was about to get back into the game and it would be nice to have some help.
"Also have the kitchen pack us some food. We'll be gone for a few hours."
The cold tiles of the bathroom floor sent a chill up my back as I stripped down and entered the shower. The steam began to fog the glass as I stood under the hot water.
Standing under the shower cleared my head. The steaming rain falling down on me brought things into perspective. A couple of things bothered me: the disappearence of Greenie and the arrival of such a large sum of money. If you were a bookie, you just didn't disappear in the middle of the playoffs and bowl games. This was your money time.
If Greenie had sent Samantha the money, what was it for? Why send it to her and not just hand it over? You put it in the mail if you wanted to hide it for a few days. If that was the reason, what had made him do it? It seemed to me that it was either part of a payoff or part of a lay off.
The fact that Chucky was missing meant that he probably had something to do with this too. He was probably in the same situation as Samantha. He would be laying low, waiting for Greenie to make the next move.
Maybe the juice money he paid wasn't enough or maybe Greenie wasn't paying it all. Those were all good enough reasons for him to make an exit.
The steam drifted out of the bathroom as I toweled myself off. I brushed my teeth and watched the mirro clear as I shaved. Samantha and her story had me worried. It was so full of holes you could have driven a truck through it. I remembered that it was never good to believe the first version.
What parts of her story were made up and what parts were true? Small details and things she had forgotten would start to come out later. Maybe even whole parts of her story would change. What little she told me would have to be enough for now.
Jeans, a tee shirt and a windbreaker seemed to be the appropriate dress for the day. Anything more formal would have meant business in the islands.
I checked myself in the mirror and saw a thirty eight year old guy of medium build who looked like he needed a haircut. I was getting too old to be running around this rock looking for missing gamblers. Then again, everyone needs a hobby.
Samantha hadn't known who the juice was being paid to. The juice money was "donated" to a known group as operating expenses. Whether it was gambling or just a bar and grill, you had to pay to operate. Who Greenie was paying off to business was probably part of the problem. If they found out about what I think Greenie was up to, then it was big trouble. I wasn't looking forward to checking it out.
I reached for the phone. "Mark, I'm going to need the Rover in a couple of minutes. Do me a favor and see what Kua is up to."
"They're all pretty busy today Mr. Darling. You know the rain and all, keeps the guests inside." Mark paused. "I don't think Kua has much to worry about at the moment. I'll see if I can find him."
Kua worked hotel security. He was also and ex-cop. I was about to get back into the game and it would be nice to have some help.
"Also have the kitchen pack us some food. We'll be gone for a few hours."
The cold tiles of the bathroom floor sent a chill up my back as I stripped down and entered the shower. The steam began to fog the glass as I stood under the hot water.
Standing under the shower cleared my head. The steaming rain falling down on me brought things into perspective. A couple of things bothered me: the disappearence of Greenie and the arrival of such a large sum of money. If you were a bookie, you just didn't disappear in the middle of the playoffs and bowl games. This was your money time.
If Greenie had sent Samantha the money, what was it for? Why send it to her and not just hand it over? You put it in the mail if you wanted to hide it for a few days. If that was the reason, what had made him do it? It seemed to me that it was either part of a payoff or part of a lay off.
The fact that Chucky was missing meant that he probably had something to do with this too. He was probably in the same situation as Samantha. He would be laying low, waiting for Greenie to make the next move.
Maybe the juice money he paid wasn't enough or maybe Greenie wasn't paying it all. Those were all good enough reasons for him to make an exit.
The steam drifted out of the bathroom as I toweled myself off. I brushed my teeth and watched the mirro clear as I shaved. Samantha and her story had me worried. It was so full of holes you could have driven a truck through it. I remembered that it was never good to believe the first version.
What parts of her story were made up and what parts were true? Small details and things she had forgotten would start to come out later. Maybe even whole parts of her story would change. What little she told me would have to be enough for now.
Jeans, a tee shirt and a windbreaker seemed to be the appropriate dress for the day. Anything more formal would have meant business in the islands.
I checked myself in the mirror and saw a thirty eight year old guy of medium build who looked like he needed a haircut. I was getting too old to be running around this rock looking for missing gamblers. Then again, everyone needs a hobby.
ch2 pg 13-14
WHAT Samantha, Greenie and Chucky did was open up a house. The house controlled all the bets that the bookies and runner turned in. They set up their own betting line. It was based upon the same line everyone else had, it was just that they modified it according to the action that was coming in.
Suppose on Tuesday, team A was favored over team B by six. Everyone was betting on the favorite, team A, so much so that there was no place to lay off the difference. Now the houses simply raised the line to create some action on team B. On Wenesday, team A was no favored by seven and a half. Now the people who were waiting for just a thing to happen put their action in. They thought that team A would win, but not by more than a touchdown. If they were team B bettors, they were waiting to get that extra one and half points. They hoped team B would at least play close and the extra points would provide their winning margin.
The object of the house was to take equal amounts of action on both teams, that way they made the juice without any risk. The juice money could be used to actually gamble on certain games.
Tiger Shark cames, I thought.
"Samantha, do you have any direct contact with snyone other than Greenie?"
"Just Chucky and Greenie. Oh, I used to see the runner once in a while." She was beginning to slur. "You think you can help Mr. Darling?"
"Who paid the juice?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. What money?"
I ignore her question and wrote down a few more things. The information she was giving me actually created more questions. I put my pen down and turned toward her.
Samanthat was having trouble keeping her eyes open She put her glass down and leaned back on the couch. Her eyes popped open and she gave me a brave smile.
"I've been up all night trying to figure out what to do," she said.
"Why don't you come with me and rest a while. You've been through a lot and you'll be safe here." I took her hand and helped her off the couch.
"You'll help, won't you?"
Samantha's knees were giving out. I put my arm around her slim wsist and led her to one of my spare bedrooms.
"Don't worry, I'll try to take care of our problem."
It was a long time since I had tucked in a beautiful woman. She smiled again as I helped her lie down.
"I have some things to do. I'll be back before you wake up."
I gently closed the door behind me and wondered what I had gotten myself into.
Suppose on Tuesday, team A was favored over team B by six. Everyone was betting on the favorite, team A, so much so that there was no place to lay off the difference. Now the houses simply raised the line to create some action on team B. On Wenesday, team A was no favored by seven and a half. Now the people who were waiting for just a thing to happen put their action in. They thought that team A would win, but not by more than a touchdown. If they were team B bettors, they were waiting to get that extra one and half points. They hoped team B would at least play close and the extra points would provide their winning margin.
The object of the house was to take equal amounts of action on both teams, that way they made the juice without any risk. The juice money could be used to actually gamble on certain games.
Tiger Shark cames, I thought.
"Samantha, do you have any direct contact with snyone other than Greenie?"
"Just Chucky and Greenie. Oh, I used to see the runner once in a while." She was beginning to slur. "You think you can help Mr. Darling?"
"Who paid the juice?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. What money?"
I ignore her question and wrote down a few more things. The information she was giving me actually created more questions. I put my pen down and turned toward her.
Samanthat was having trouble keeping her eyes open She put her glass down and leaned back on the couch. Her eyes popped open and she gave me a brave smile.
"I've been up all night trying to figure out what to do," she said.
"Why don't you come with me and rest a while. You've been through a lot and you'll be safe here." I took her hand and helped her off the couch.
"You'll help, won't you?"
Samantha's knees were giving out. I put my arm around her slim wsist and led her to one of my spare bedrooms.
"Don't worry, I'll try to take care of our problem."
It was a long time since I had tucked in a beautiful woman. She smiled again as I helped her lie down.
"I have some things to do. I'll be back before you wake up."
I gently closed the door behind me and wondered what I had gotten myself into.
ch2 pg11-13
"YOU can't find him?" I asked.
"He doesn't answer the phone and he hasn't been to work. No one has seen him." Samantha poured herself a fresh drink and took a sip. She sat back down on the couch and crossed her legs. I wondered if that was part of a show.
"Maybe Greenie got arrested."
"No, I think he would have called either Chucky or myself."
That made sense, then again it didn't. If you got arrested for booking bets, the last people to call were your partners. I sat down at my desk and began making some notes. "What did Greenie do for a living?"
"He worked as a clerk for the City and County. I got his work number right here." She reached into her purse and revealed a worn address book. Samantha's demeanor suddenly changed. "What does all that have to do with all this?"
I know it's not good to judge people under times of stress. I didn't know what to make of Samantha.
"It might be important, it might not." I continued to make notes on my pad while she composed herself. She settled back on the couch.
"What about this Chucky person. Have you tried getting in touch with him?"
"I tried to call him last night but there was no answer."
Samantha gave me a description of both Greenie and Chucky and some information on where I might find them. That seemed to be the first thing to do. Two guys missing and the appearance of a large sum of cash didn't seem like too much of a problem. the two of them were probably off on some wild bender somewhere. Then again, it wasn't even time for lunch.
"So you went home and thought that someone had searched your place?"
"I'm not imagining things. I sweated out Sunday night thinking maybe they had something to do. On Monday, I went to work hoping that one of them would get in touch with me. I found my apartment had been trashed. I opened the door, looked around inside and left. The only things I stopped to grab were Daddy's badge and some cash I had hidden. I knew I couldn't stay there." Samantha paused and hit her drink again. "I don't know why, but I stopped to check my mail. The manager handed me two packages. That caught me off guard."
"Any idea how they got in?"
She stated at me. "No."
She didn't look like she was making things up. When people lied, they usually looked you in the eye or tried to avoid them. She just stared out the window and recanted the past days events.
"My first instinct was to leave the boxes. But I got this thing for mail order stuff so I took them with me. I called a cab, took the boxes and my stuff to a friends house. She and I check on each others places when we're on trips so I had the key."
"Weren't you worried that maybe someone was following you?"
Samantha downed the last of her drink. Her eyes closed for a second before they opened up and regained focus. She looked tired.
"I made the cabby go around in circles until I was sure that we weren't being tailed. Something I read in a book."
Maybe she was a Clancy fan too. Samantha had decided to head toward a friends apartment on the other side of the island. She sent her friend home to her parents house until all this blew over. Samantha realized she was in trouble.
She was a sight to behold. Her innocent eyes and oriental features hid the smarts of a street hustler. Then I remembered her father had been a cop.
"I didn't feel safe in the apartment alone so I took a bus into Waikiki. I hid out in a nightclub until four."
"And after?"
"Breakfast in a coffee shop across the street from the Hilton. It was there I thought of you."
Samantha closed her eyes again. "I caught a cab to the bank. I wanted to check out our stake and make sure it was all there. I wanted to make sure he hadn't sent me my share of the money to cut me out."
"You have access to the bank?"
"Greenie said it would be better for us if the safety deposit box was in my name. That way, if he got busted, they wouldn't be able to touch the cash."
"Now he's missing, and you got two fifty large that you think belongs to someone else."
It sounded like somewhere along the line, Samantha and her friends had bitten off a bit more than they could chew. "Samantha, what was largest bet you were asked to cover?"
She had to think. "Single bet? One game? Maybe twenty five thousand."
"You win or lose?"
"We won. I remember the bet. It was against the Tiger Sharks. In fact we covered that amount a couple of times."
It sounded like Samantha and Greenie were big time. I turned back to my window and sighed. My view of Diamond Head and Waikiki Beach looked like an airbrush that consisted of a hundred hues of grey. Even the usually bright Royal Hawaiian Hotel looked old and rundown. While most of the United States enjoyed a white Christmas, we got out the raincoats and watched the rain fall.
This was winter in the islands.
"He doesn't answer the phone and he hasn't been to work. No one has seen him." Samantha poured herself a fresh drink and took a sip. She sat back down on the couch and crossed her legs. I wondered if that was part of a show.
"Maybe Greenie got arrested."
"No, I think he would have called either Chucky or myself."
That made sense, then again it didn't. If you got arrested for booking bets, the last people to call were your partners. I sat down at my desk and began making some notes. "What did Greenie do for a living?"
"He worked as a clerk for the City and County. I got his work number right here." She reached into her purse and revealed a worn address book. Samantha's demeanor suddenly changed. "What does all that have to do with all this?"
I know it's not good to judge people under times of stress. I didn't know what to make of Samantha.
"It might be important, it might not." I continued to make notes on my pad while she composed herself. She settled back on the couch.
"What about this Chucky person. Have you tried getting in touch with him?"
"I tried to call him last night but there was no answer."
Samantha gave me a description of both Greenie and Chucky and some information on where I might find them. That seemed to be the first thing to do. Two guys missing and the appearance of a large sum of cash didn't seem like too much of a problem. the two of them were probably off on some wild bender somewhere. Then again, it wasn't even time for lunch.
"So you went home and thought that someone had searched your place?"
"I'm not imagining things. I sweated out Sunday night thinking maybe they had something to do. On Monday, I went to work hoping that one of them would get in touch with me. I found my apartment had been trashed. I opened the door, looked around inside and left. The only things I stopped to grab were Daddy's badge and some cash I had hidden. I knew I couldn't stay there." Samantha paused and hit her drink again. "I don't know why, but I stopped to check my mail. The manager handed me two packages. That caught me off guard."
"Any idea how they got in?"
She stated at me. "No."
She didn't look like she was making things up. When people lied, they usually looked you in the eye or tried to avoid them. She just stared out the window and recanted the past days events.
"My first instinct was to leave the boxes. But I got this thing for mail order stuff so I took them with me. I called a cab, took the boxes and my stuff to a friends house. She and I check on each others places when we're on trips so I had the key."
"Weren't you worried that maybe someone was following you?"
Samantha downed the last of her drink. Her eyes closed for a second before they opened up and regained focus. She looked tired.
"I made the cabby go around in circles until I was sure that we weren't being tailed. Something I read in a book."
Maybe she was a Clancy fan too. Samantha had decided to head toward a friends apartment on the other side of the island. She sent her friend home to her parents house until all this blew over. Samantha realized she was in trouble.
She was a sight to behold. Her innocent eyes and oriental features hid the smarts of a street hustler. Then I remembered her father had been a cop.
"I didn't feel safe in the apartment alone so I took a bus into Waikiki. I hid out in a nightclub until four."
"And after?"
"Breakfast in a coffee shop across the street from the Hilton. It was there I thought of you."
Samantha closed her eyes again. "I caught a cab to the bank. I wanted to check out our stake and make sure it was all there. I wanted to make sure he hadn't sent me my share of the money to cut me out."
"You have access to the bank?"
"Greenie said it would be better for us if the safety deposit box was in my name. That way, if he got busted, they wouldn't be able to touch the cash."
"Now he's missing, and you got two fifty large that you think belongs to someone else."
It sounded like somewhere along the line, Samantha and her friends had bitten off a bit more than they could chew. "Samantha, what was largest bet you were asked to cover?"
She had to think. "Single bet? One game? Maybe twenty five thousand."
"You win or lose?"
"We won. I remember the bet. It was against the Tiger Sharks. In fact we covered that amount a couple of times."
It sounded like Samantha and Greenie were big time. I turned back to my window and sighed. My view of Diamond Head and Waikiki Beach looked like an airbrush that consisted of a hundred hues of grey. Even the usually bright Royal Hawaiian Hotel looked old and rundown. While most of the United States enjoyed a white Christmas, we got out the raincoats and watched the rain fall.
This was winter in the islands.
ch2 pg 9-11
SAMANTHA brushed the hair from her eyes and put her glass down on the table. Her hands were no longer shaking.
"I started to book with Greenie more and more. Freddie was somewhat of a cold fish. At least Greenie would try and tip me off on what he thought were the good plays. He made it fun and interesting."
"How'd you do?"
"Sometimes I won, sometimes I lost. You know how gambling is." Samantha's eyes became vacant. "Daddy liked to bet on football."
She turned her head slowly toward me and put her hands together. "Well Greenie noticed that my bets were getting bigger and bigger. It's not that I was chasing you see, it's just that I needed to bet more in order to get the same high."
"What were you shooting?"
"About a thousand a game," she said. Her eyes avoided mine by looking at the floor. Samantha was what I would consider a big time gambler, a label she didn't seem to be proud of. I guess everyone has a vice, you weren't normal if you didn't.
"On more than one game per week?"
"Five of six," she said softly. "But only on games that Greenie suggested."
"Six large a week, how were you doing?"
Samantha looked up at me and smiled. "I was ahead fifteen grand."
Though I was impressed, I tried not to show it. A thousand a game was nothing to shake sticks at. Six thousand a week was more money than most people made in a month.
Greenie owed her alot of cash. Samantha was winning so much he approached her with a proposition.
"He wanted to make me a partner. There were only two weeks left in the season, and he knew how much I was ahead. We began to make plans for next year."
"So you and Greenie went into business for yourselves."
Samantha nodded her head. She brushed some loose hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Sexy wasn't enough word to describe her. I was trying my best not to dwell on that fact.
Betting on football was some what of a roller coaster ride; it had its ups and downs. It seemed that Samantha's ride with Greenie was mostly up. That got my attention.
"Any particular team seem to come in for you? I mean more than others."
Samantha thought. "The Tiger Sharks."
Seems that Greenie had his best luck with the local college team. It must have been easier for him to get inside information.
"So, what did it cost you to start up you new enterprise?"
"I got in for fifty thousand." Samantha pushed her glass forward on table signalling for me to fill her up. She was beginning to remind me of me.
I walked over and put the bottle down on the table next to her. She poured her own and filled the glass to the rim.
"Fifty thousand isn't that much to make book, especially if you are taking on the heavy hitters. You must have had another partner, or someone banking." Bookies don't go into business without knowing they can cover their bets. A house that doest pay doesn't remain a house for long.
"I didn't think I was the only one putting up the cash, but Greenie kept me in the dark." Samantha sipped at her scotch. "All I did was show up every Thursday night and pick up my part of the take."
She sat back in frustration.
"So you had no idea who was actually running the show?"
"Greenie-"
"Was just a front. These things are run by people who don't advertise. They don't take bets, they don't show themselves. That's what runners like Greenie are for."
"Well then I don't know!" she shot back at me. Samantha was now on the verge of crying. She put both hands on her face and brushed her hair back.
"Relax, I'm not here to interrogate you. I just need to know what really happened."
Tears began to well up in her eyes. She was doing a good job of holding on to whatever composure she had left. From my desk I grabbed a box of tissues and hand it to her. I turned my attention back to the falling rain and left her to her own thoughts.
A clap of thunder boomed over our heads and shook the room.
Samantha bolted upright.
"It's okay, It's only-"
"I'm not a little girl. I can take care of myself," she retorted.
I looks could kill, I would have been struck down where I stood.
"If you can take care of yourself, then why come to me?" Her story was interesting, but a little confusing. Why not just take the money and run?
"Someone searched my apartment. I think it was the money they were after."
I leaned back against the window and sighed. "That's it?"
Samantha paused and looked at me. "No, I came to you 'cause Greenie dropped out of sight."
"I started to book with Greenie more and more. Freddie was somewhat of a cold fish. At least Greenie would try and tip me off on what he thought were the good plays. He made it fun and interesting."
"How'd you do?"
"Sometimes I won, sometimes I lost. You know how gambling is." Samantha's eyes became vacant. "Daddy liked to bet on football."
She turned her head slowly toward me and put her hands together. "Well Greenie noticed that my bets were getting bigger and bigger. It's not that I was chasing you see, it's just that I needed to bet more in order to get the same high."
"What were you shooting?"
"About a thousand a game," she said. Her eyes avoided mine by looking at the floor. Samantha was what I would consider a big time gambler, a label she didn't seem to be proud of. I guess everyone has a vice, you weren't normal if you didn't.
"On more than one game per week?"
"Five of six," she said softly. "But only on games that Greenie suggested."
"Six large a week, how were you doing?"
Samantha looked up at me and smiled. "I was ahead fifteen grand."
Though I was impressed, I tried not to show it. A thousand a game was nothing to shake sticks at. Six thousand a week was more money than most people made in a month.
Greenie owed her alot of cash. Samantha was winning so much he approached her with a proposition.
"He wanted to make me a partner. There were only two weeks left in the season, and he knew how much I was ahead. We began to make plans for next year."
"So you and Greenie went into business for yourselves."
Samantha nodded her head. She brushed some loose hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Sexy wasn't enough word to describe her. I was trying my best not to dwell on that fact.
Betting on football was some what of a roller coaster ride; it had its ups and downs. It seemed that Samantha's ride with Greenie was mostly up. That got my attention.
"Any particular team seem to come in for you? I mean more than others."
Samantha thought. "The Tiger Sharks."
Seems that Greenie had his best luck with the local college team. It must have been easier for him to get inside information.
"So, what did it cost you to start up you new enterprise?"
"I got in for fifty thousand." Samantha pushed her glass forward on table signalling for me to fill her up. She was beginning to remind me of me.
I walked over and put the bottle down on the table next to her. She poured her own and filled the glass to the rim.
"Fifty thousand isn't that much to make book, especially if you are taking on the heavy hitters. You must have had another partner, or someone banking." Bookies don't go into business without knowing they can cover their bets. A house that doest pay doesn't remain a house for long.
"I didn't think I was the only one putting up the cash, but Greenie kept me in the dark." Samantha sipped at her scotch. "All I did was show up every Thursday night and pick up my part of the take."
She sat back in frustration.
"So you had no idea who was actually running the show?"
"Greenie-"
"Was just a front. These things are run by people who don't advertise. They don't take bets, they don't show themselves. That's what runners like Greenie are for."
"Well then I don't know!" she shot back at me. Samantha was now on the verge of crying. She put both hands on her face and brushed her hair back.
"Relax, I'm not here to interrogate you. I just need to know what really happened."
Tears began to well up in her eyes. She was doing a good job of holding on to whatever composure she had left. From my desk I grabbed a box of tissues and hand it to her. I turned my attention back to the falling rain and left her to her own thoughts.
A clap of thunder boomed over our heads and shook the room.
Samantha bolted upright.
"It's okay, It's only-"
"I'm not a little girl. I can take care of myself," she retorted.
I looks could kill, I would have been struck down where I stood.
"If you can take care of yourself, then why come to me?" Her story was interesting, but a little confusing. Why not just take the money and run?
"Someone searched my apartment. I think it was the money they were after."
I leaned back against the window and sighed. "That's it?"
Samantha paused and looked at me. "No, I came to you 'cause Greenie dropped out of sight."
ch2 pg 8-9
WHEN Charlie Royce had passed on, he had left Samantha some things: loneliness, depression and a rather large retirement fund. Her friends had tried their best to shake her out of it but to Samantha, her was all she had. Too many lonely nights had led to too many memories. She was drinking away her sorrows in a Waikiki bar one night when a handsome well dressed guy sat down next to her. It turned out he was a handicapper.
Handicappers watched the world of sports and tried to make predictions on who would win and by how much. Gamblers through out the country listened to what they forecast.
For instance, if they said the Bears were going to win over the Giants by thirteen and half points, people bet whether or not the Bears would win by more or less. If I bet on the Bears and they won 33-30, I lost my bet because they had failed to cover the predicted winning margin. The winning margin was called the spread.
Now if I had bet on the Bears and they won 33-14, I won the bet because the Bears won by more than thirteen and a half points. They had covered the spread. The half point was there to prevent ties.
The predictions that the handicappers came up with was called the line. The line came out every Tuesday. Right after the Monday night game, another week of handicapping started.
The line wasn't constant nor was it the same coast to coast. It would change depending on injuries, weather forecasts and who had home field advantage. Handicapping was not an exact science, though some would like you to believe it was.
"So you started betting on football games."
"I started betting small at first. Fifty here, fifty there. Then Daddy's pension came and insurance came in." She paused, "I need another drink."
I poured her another scotch. After thinking about it, I took out another glass and poured myself one too.
The handicapper had put he in touch with a guy named Freddie. He was a bet runner that apparently had a reputation for paying on time and not accepting excuses when it was time to collect. Welshers were usually given some permanent reminder of their actions. Broken bones and visible scars were the usual trademarks.
"Did he do his own work or did he hire out?" I took seat across from her and watched her eyes.
Samantha glared at me. Her story had a beginning, a middle and I was interrupting. I mumbled an apology and motioned for her to go on.
"Freddie was always in Danny's from ten to ten. Well one day, I missed him. The bartender noticed me looking for him and called me over. He motioned to a guy sitting at the end of the bar."
She downed the last of her drink. "That's how I met Greenie. His real name is Michael Green."
Her story sounded straight, so far.
Handicappers watched the world of sports and tried to make predictions on who would win and by how much. Gamblers through out the country listened to what they forecast.
For instance, if they said the Bears were going to win over the Giants by thirteen and half points, people bet whether or not the Bears would win by more or less. If I bet on the Bears and they won 33-30, I lost my bet because they had failed to cover the predicted winning margin. The winning margin was called the spread.
Now if I had bet on the Bears and they won 33-14, I won the bet because the Bears won by more than thirteen and a half points. They had covered the spread. The half point was there to prevent ties.
The predictions that the handicappers came up with was called the line. The line came out every Tuesday. Right after the Monday night game, another week of handicapping started.
The line wasn't constant nor was it the same coast to coast. It would change depending on injuries, weather forecasts and who had home field advantage. Handicapping was not an exact science, though some would like you to believe it was.
"So you started betting on football games."
"I started betting small at first. Fifty here, fifty there. Then Daddy's pension came and insurance came in." She paused, "I need another drink."
I poured her another scotch. After thinking about it, I took out another glass and poured myself one too.
The handicapper had put he in touch with a guy named Freddie. He was a bet runner that apparently had a reputation for paying on time and not accepting excuses when it was time to collect. Welshers were usually given some permanent reminder of their actions. Broken bones and visible scars were the usual trademarks.
"Did he do his own work or did he hire out?" I took seat across from her and watched her eyes.
Samantha glared at me. Her story had a beginning, a middle and I was interrupting. I mumbled an apology and motioned for her to go on.
"Freddie was always in Danny's from ten to ten. Well one day, I missed him. The bartender noticed me looking for him and called me over. He motioned to a guy sitting at the end of the bar."
She downed the last of her drink. "That's how I met Greenie. His real name is Michael Green."
Her story sounded straight, so far.
ch1 pg 6-7
AS far as I could remember, Charlie had raised Samantha on his own. Royce had gotten married during his overseas stint in the Army. After giving birth to his daughter, it became apparent that America and citizenship was all his wife had been after. Last he had heard of his ex-wife, she had remarried and was living somewhere in Oakland. He became a single parent working at a job with impossible hours. Growing up without a mother must have made Samantha close to her father.
Royce and I had worked a couple of cases together, but I didn't think we had a special relationship. The fact that he had taken the time to teach me few things told me that he liked me. That and the fact that Samantha was in my living room.
"Okay Samantha, I guess you are who you say you are."
She nodded to me wile her trembling hand held her fathers shield. Then as if it had brought back some terrible image, she thrust it back into her purse and closed the latch.
"Call me Sam. Daddy always did," she said, looking up at me but not quite hiding the lost look in her eyes. Her gaze was one me, but her mind was reviewing some movie from her past. Eight millimeter home movies, I guessed.
"Samantha, I don't know if your father told you about me. I retired. I'm just a businessman."
"Daddy said that if I got into any kind of trouble I was to look you up. He said you owed him."
I wasn't very sharp this early in the morning, but what she said brought it all flooding back to me.
Charlie and I were on some mundane mission; tracking down an armed robber who had decided to jump bail. Through a couple of tips we were able to find him and corner him in an alley. I went in first with Charlie covering me.
The alley contained a large dumpster and some garbage cans. It didn't go straight back, instead it turned off to the left behind a Chinese restaurant. I inched my way to the back while Charlie covered my back.
The bail jumper popped up from the dumpster and drew on bead on me. Apparently he thought we were some acquaintances he owed money to. Charlie clipped his wing before he could shoot.
A shiver ran through my body. I got up and turned down the thermostat. It was getting cold.
"Samantha, what is it you need from me.?"
"I don't quite know what to do. I want to give the money back, but I don't want them to know who had it."
"Why don't you just turn it over to the police?"
Samantha reached for her drink and knocked it down. She closed her eyes and steadied herself.
"Because someone wants it back."
This wouldn't be so easy. I sat down and listened to her story.
Royce and I had worked a couple of cases together, but I didn't think we had a special relationship. The fact that he had taken the time to teach me few things told me that he liked me. That and the fact that Samantha was in my living room.
"Okay Samantha, I guess you are who you say you are."
She nodded to me wile her trembling hand held her fathers shield. Then as if it had brought back some terrible image, she thrust it back into her purse and closed the latch.
"Call me Sam. Daddy always did," she said, looking up at me but not quite hiding the lost look in her eyes. Her gaze was one me, but her mind was reviewing some movie from her past. Eight millimeter home movies, I guessed.
"Samantha, I don't know if your father told you about me. I retired. I'm just a businessman."
"Daddy said that if I got into any kind of trouble I was to look you up. He said you owed him."
I wasn't very sharp this early in the morning, but what she said brought it all flooding back to me.
Charlie and I were on some mundane mission; tracking down an armed robber who had decided to jump bail. Through a couple of tips we were able to find him and corner him in an alley. I went in first with Charlie covering me.
The alley contained a large dumpster and some garbage cans. It didn't go straight back, instead it turned off to the left behind a Chinese restaurant. I inched my way to the back while Charlie covered my back.
The bail jumper popped up from the dumpster and drew on bead on me. Apparently he thought we were some acquaintances he owed money to. Charlie clipped his wing before he could shoot.
A shiver ran through my body. I got up and turned down the thermostat. It was getting cold.
"Samantha, what is it you need from me.?"
"I don't quite know what to do. I want to give the money back, but I don't want them to know who had it."
"Why don't you just turn it over to the police?"
Samantha reached for her drink and knocked it down. She closed her eyes and steadied herself.
"Because someone wants it back."
This wouldn't be so easy. I sat down and listened to her story.
ch1 pg 4-5
HER dark eyes began to make me feel like i was being maneuvered into something. In her face I saw fear, then anger, then fear again. This wasn't a trick.
"Well, if you aren't going to help, I guess I better go." She stood up clutching her purse. "My father said you were different from all the others, but you're not. You guys are all the same. If you don't benefit from it, then you don't want to get involved. Thanks for the drink."
I stood up with her. She was at least my height in bare feet.
"Hold on."
Samantha glared at me and paused. With a sullen look she took a seat ans smoothed her dress out over her thighs. She folded her hands in her lap and waited.
"Look, I haven't been into this kind of thing for years. Women don't just show up everyday desperately needing my help. People don't come pounding on my door in the morning acting like I owe them something. Walking in here with that kind of attitude doesn't even get you a drink."
The sound of the falling rain seemed to fill the room as we stared at each other. Samantha was a beautiful woman but this was still my home. No one came here and talked to me like that. Especially not first thing in the morning.
She settled back into her seat, but her body still remained tense. Samantha began to study the patterns in my rug.
"I'm sorry I woke you up."
A peace offering. I took a deep breath and counted to five. Beautiful or not, she had started off on the wrong foot. I decided to give her another chance. Charlie Royce was someone I had considered a friend.
"How's your father?" I hadn't seen him for at least five years. That's how long I had been out of touch.
"He's dead."
"I'm sorry."
"In the line of duty. Daddy also had cancer."
My head nodded in understanding. The Charlie Royce I remembered had been a proud man.
Samantha looked at her empty glass. I walked to the bar and refilled it.
"I don't want to seem callous, but how do I know-"
"Daddy said to show you this." She reached into her purse and slowly produced the familiar shield. I recognized the number.
The low rumble of thunder rolled in from somewhere offshore. The dark clouds continued to gather.
"Well, if you aren't going to help, I guess I better go." She stood up clutching her purse. "My father said you were different from all the others, but you're not. You guys are all the same. If you don't benefit from it, then you don't want to get involved. Thanks for the drink."
I stood up with her. She was at least my height in bare feet.
"Hold on."
Samantha glared at me and paused. With a sullen look she took a seat ans smoothed her dress out over her thighs. She folded her hands in her lap and waited.
"Look, I haven't been into this kind of thing for years. Women don't just show up everyday desperately needing my help. People don't come pounding on my door in the morning acting like I owe them something. Walking in here with that kind of attitude doesn't even get you a drink."
The sound of the falling rain seemed to fill the room as we stared at each other. Samantha was a beautiful woman but this was still my home. No one came here and talked to me like that. Especially not first thing in the morning.
She settled back into her seat, but her body still remained tense. Samantha began to study the patterns in my rug.
"I'm sorry I woke you up."
A peace offering. I took a deep breath and counted to five. Beautiful or not, she had started off on the wrong foot. I decided to give her another chance. Charlie Royce was someone I had considered a friend.
"How's your father?" I hadn't seen him for at least five years. That's how long I had been out of touch.
"He's dead."
"I'm sorry."
"In the line of duty. Daddy also had cancer."
My head nodded in understanding. The Charlie Royce I remembered had been a proud man.
Samantha looked at her empty glass. I walked to the bar and refilled it.
"I don't want to seem callous, but how do I know-"
"Daddy said to show you this." She reached into her purse and slowly produced the familiar shield. I recognized the number.
The low rumble of thunder rolled in from somewhere offshore. The dark clouds continued to gather.
ch1 pg 2-4
"HOW can I help you, Ms. Kim-"
A dark haired woman I did not recognize rushed past me and let the door close behind her. I wondered what her hurry was.
"Your shoes." Shoes and sandals here were left at the door. She walked into my living room and took a seat on my couch. I usually met my guests in the connecting room next door, but it was too early in the morning for me to care.
Samantha Kim looked at me curiously, as if she had made some sort of mistake. Then her expression changed; she looked like she needed help.
"Mr. Darling, I need your help."
I looked her over and decided that she was the kind of woman who could use my boxer shorts to cross the street just so she wouldn't have to step in a puddle.
"My father said that if I ever needed help, you would be the one to see."
She noticed that I was staring down at her shoes. They were nice shoes. Taking her pumps off one at a time, she got up and set them by the door. She wasn't wearing stockings.
I took the opportunity to get a good look at her. Close inspection revealed that Samantha Kim was in her mid to late twenties, though the way she wore her black hair short created the illusion of nineteen. Here eyes were oriental but her face was slender, with high cheek bones. The point on the end of her nose was unusual for someone with last name like Kim, but overall her Asian background showed. She wore a light cotton sun dress printed with a subdued floral pattern. The spaghetti straps that held it up only made it seem like her well proportioned body was ready to burst from its enclosure. Her skin was silky smooth and nicely tanned like most of the local women. In my book, Samantha Kim was a looker.
She sat back down on the couch with her knees together and her ankles off to one side. I took a seat across from her and decided that having to wake up to her wasn't such a bad thing after all. With her allure, I had a hard time remembering why she was here.
"So Samantha, why are you here?" I couldn't remember any friends named Kim though I sometimes ate a restaurant of the same name.
"Royce is my maiden name," she said, looking out over my lanai. "Charlie Royce was my father."
I followed her gaze outside to see that the deluge that had awoken me had started up again. It was coming down in sheets so thick it drowned out all the colors of the city and turned the horizon a dark grey. The usual postcard view from my window now looked like a black and white photo that had been over exposed. Black and whites made me moody.
Charlie Royce had been a part of another life. He had been a detective in the department while I was just starting out with the government. Our paths had crossed more than once and he had taken the time to show a new guy the ropes. I remember Charlie saying that he had a daughter. But it had just been in passing; our personal lives had never mixed. It had been many years since I had seen or heard from Charlie Royce and I had never met his girl.
"I remember your father, we used to work together sometimes."
"Daddy hardly talked about work." She grabbed her purse and held it tightly against her side. "When he did mention names, he spoke of you very highly. I think you were the straightest person he knew."
"Well Mrs. Kim, I'm not a mind reader, what exactly-"
"Nobody said you were. Look, you got anything to drink around here?"
"I could make you a cup of coffee. Or I could-"
"You got any scotch around? Dewers, if you got it."
For someone that wanted my help she had an unusual way of asking. I walked over to the bar and poured her a drink. She was after all, a guest in my home. Maybe she wasn't a morning person either.
The glass quivered a little when she took it out of my hands and brought it to her lips. Samantha looked as if she had a thin wire strung inside of her being wound tighter and tighter. I hoped it wouldn't break.
She drained her glass in one gulp. Well, it was night time somewhere.
"Daddy said i could always count on Darling. Sorry, I mean Mister Darling." She put her empty glass down and stared at me.
I stared back. Her makeup couldn't quite hide the darkness under her bloodshot eyes. She looked like she had been up all night and despite her drop dead looks, I was still suspicious. Beautiful women didn't walk into my living room every morning. I could only wish.
"I've got two hundred fifty thousand of the Syndicate's money. At least I think it's their money."
My face remained blank though inside my head warning bells were ringing. Then it occurred to me that this might be some elaborate trick someone was playing on me.
"Aren't you going to say something?"
I sat back in my chair and asked: "What do you want-"
"I want to give it back, but I don't know how."
A dark haired woman I did not recognize rushed past me and let the door close behind her. I wondered what her hurry was.
"Your shoes." Shoes and sandals here were left at the door. She walked into my living room and took a seat on my couch. I usually met my guests in the connecting room next door, but it was too early in the morning for me to care.
Samantha Kim looked at me curiously, as if she had made some sort of mistake. Then her expression changed; she looked like she needed help.
"Mr. Darling, I need your help."
I looked her over and decided that she was the kind of woman who could use my boxer shorts to cross the street just so she wouldn't have to step in a puddle.
"My father said that if I ever needed help, you would be the one to see."
She noticed that I was staring down at her shoes. They were nice shoes. Taking her pumps off one at a time, she got up and set them by the door. She wasn't wearing stockings.
I took the opportunity to get a good look at her. Close inspection revealed that Samantha Kim was in her mid to late twenties, though the way she wore her black hair short created the illusion of nineteen. Here eyes were oriental but her face was slender, with high cheek bones. The point on the end of her nose was unusual for someone with last name like Kim, but overall her Asian background showed. She wore a light cotton sun dress printed with a subdued floral pattern. The spaghetti straps that held it up only made it seem like her well proportioned body was ready to burst from its enclosure. Her skin was silky smooth and nicely tanned like most of the local women. In my book, Samantha Kim was a looker.
She sat back down on the couch with her knees together and her ankles off to one side. I took a seat across from her and decided that having to wake up to her wasn't such a bad thing after all. With her allure, I had a hard time remembering why she was here.
"So Samantha, why are you here?" I couldn't remember any friends named Kim though I sometimes ate a restaurant of the same name.
"Royce is my maiden name," she said, looking out over my lanai. "Charlie Royce was my father."
I followed her gaze outside to see that the deluge that had awoken me had started up again. It was coming down in sheets so thick it drowned out all the colors of the city and turned the horizon a dark grey. The usual postcard view from my window now looked like a black and white photo that had been over exposed. Black and whites made me moody.
Charlie Royce had been a part of another life. He had been a detective in the department while I was just starting out with the government. Our paths had crossed more than once and he had taken the time to show a new guy the ropes. I remember Charlie saying that he had a daughter. But it had just been in passing; our personal lives had never mixed. It had been many years since I had seen or heard from Charlie Royce and I had never met his girl.
"I remember your father, we used to work together sometimes."
"Daddy hardly talked about work." She grabbed her purse and held it tightly against her side. "When he did mention names, he spoke of you very highly. I think you were the straightest person he knew."
"Well Mrs. Kim, I'm not a mind reader, what exactly-"
"Nobody said you were. Look, you got anything to drink around here?"
"I could make you a cup of coffee. Or I could-"
"You got any scotch around? Dewers, if you got it."
For someone that wanted my help she had an unusual way of asking. I walked over to the bar and poured her a drink. She was after all, a guest in my home. Maybe she wasn't a morning person either.
The glass quivered a little when she took it out of my hands and brought it to her lips. Samantha looked as if she had a thin wire strung inside of her being wound tighter and tighter. I hoped it wouldn't break.
She drained her glass in one gulp. Well, it was night time somewhere.
"Daddy said i could always count on Darling. Sorry, I mean Mister Darling." She put her empty glass down and stared at me.
I stared back. Her makeup couldn't quite hide the darkness under her bloodshot eyes. She looked like she had been up all night and despite her drop dead looks, I was still suspicious. Beautiful women didn't walk into my living room every morning. I could only wish.
"I've got two hundred fifty thousand of the Syndicate's money. At least I think it's their money."
My face remained blank though inside my head warning bells were ringing. Then it occurred to me that this might be some elaborate trick someone was playing on me.
"Aren't you going to say something?"
I sat back in my chair and asked: "What do you want-"
"I want to give it back, but I don't know how."
ch1 pg 1-2
"AND if you haven't gotten up by now, now would be a good time. The storm front lingering to the south of the islands decided to pay us a visit last night. Expect heavy showers over all parts of the island chain. The National Weather Service has issued flash flood warnings for all low lying areas. Leave early and expect traffic in all town bound directions. A stalled car in the east bound lanes have already trapped commuters coming in from the west. Don't forget your umbrellas."
I reached for the clock radio and turned it off. Just yesterday the tropical sun had burned high in a cloudless sky. This morning the rains lashed my glass doors so hard I wondered if they might be blown off their tracks. The ever changing weather was part of living in the middle of the ocean.
The clock said seven thirty. The sound of the falling rain made me close my eyes again. I pulled the blanket closer to my body and went back to my dream.
"Hold on!"
Another explosion rocked the boat and dimmed the emergency lights. Water began to spray everywhere as damage control people scurried around the fallen bodies.
"Lock up that bulkhead!" I shouted to a very distressed looking seaman. "Diving planes twenty degrees up," I motioned to an ensign who just happened to look like Leinani.
What was she doing on my sub?
"Engine room! Can't you give me any power?" I yelled into the intercom. The situation was getting worse. People were scrambling around trying to fix all the leaks.
"Blow all the tanks!"
I motioned to Leinani, "Ensign, come here and give me a kiss."
Leinani and I were rocked off our feet as we hit the bottom.
"Turn off that TV and try to conserve your air. Senior Chief, come with me, we're going forward."
I shot down the ladder with my Senior Chief in tow. We started to make our way towards the torpedo room.
"Chief, there's a chance that someone might pick us up on their sonar. I want you to grab that wrench and start banging on that bulkhead."
"Anything you say skipper."
Leinani was clinging to me. She put her arms around me and kissed me. A pipe burst and drenched us in a spray of water.
The Senior Chief began to pound: thud! thud! thud!
Nothing.
Thud! thud! thud!
My eyes flew open and looked around the room. The morning sun, trying its best to burn away the heavy clouds cast a hazy light through the windows. The rain outside had subsided to a mild drizzle just light enough to keep everything damp.
The drone of the air conditioning and the light smattering of rain against the window glass were the only sounds that came to my ears. My senses reassured me I was at home and not at the bottom of the ocean. My blanket got tangled up in my feet as I sat up and looked for the time. The clock read nine twenty three.
The pounding though, resumed. This time it was someone pounding on my door and not my Senior Chief trying to signal someone at the surface. I had been reading too much Clancy.
The fog engulfed cells that made up my brain told me to ignore it; then again maybe the building was burning down and someone was trying to save me. I almost got a mouthful of rug as I stood up and headed for the door. I kicked the blanket away and threw it back on the bed.
"Yeah? Who's there?"
A female voice identifying herself as Samantha Kim begged to gain entrance. I did a little jig as I struggled to put on a shirt and a pair of shorts at the same time. I usually would have happy to have a woman at my door except I didn't know anyone named Samantha.
I checked the peephole to make sure she was alone. The fish eye view I got was of a woman who kept checking both sides of the hall. She didn't look like she would be too much trouble, then again who did? I unbolted the door and let her in.
I reached for the clock radio and turned it off. Just yesterday the tropical sun had burned high in a cloudless sky. This morning the rains lashed my glass doors so hard I wondered if they might be blown off their tracks. The ever changing weather was part of living in the middle of the ocean.
The clock said seven thirty. The sound of the falling rain made me close my eyes again. I pulled the blanket closer to my body and went back to my dream.
"Hold on!"
Another explosion rocked the boat and dimmed the emergency lights. Water began to spray everywhere as damage control people scurried around the fallen bodies.
"Lock up that bulkhead!" I shouted to a very distressed looking seaman. "Diving planes twenty degrees up," I motioned to an ensign who just happened to look like Leinani.
What was she doing on my sub?
"Engine room! Can't you give me any power?" I yelled into the intercom. The situation was getting worse. People were scrambling around trying to fix all the leaks.
"Blow all the tanks!"
I motioned to Leinani, "Ensign, come here and give me a kiss."
Leinani and I were rocked off our feet as we hit the bottom.
"Turn off that TV and try to conserve your air. Senior Chief, come with me, we're going forward."
I shot down the ladder with my Senior Chief in tow. We started to make our way towards the torpedo room.
"Chief, there's a chance that someone might pick us up on their sonar. I want you to grab that wrench and start banging on that bulkhead."
"Anything you say skipper."
Leinani was clinging to me. She put her arms around me and kissed me. A pipe burst and drenched us in a spray of water.
The Senior Chief began to pound: thud! thud! thud!
Nothing.
Thud! thud! thud!
My eyes flew open and looked around the room. The morning sun, trying its best to burn away the heavy clouds cast a hazy light through the windows. The rain outside had subsided to a mild drizzle just light enough to keep everything damp.
The drone of the air conditioning and the light smattering of rain against the window glass were the only sounds that came to my ears. My senses reassured me I was at home and not at the bottom of the ocean. My blanket got tangled up in my feet as I sat up and looked for the time. The clock read nine twenty three.
The pounding though, resumed. This time it was someone pounding on my door and not my Senior Chief trying to signal someone at the surface. I had been reading too much Clancy.
The fog engulfed cells that made up my brain told me to ignore it; then again maybe the building was burning down and someone was trying to save me. I almost got a mouthful of rug as I stood up and headed for the door. I kicked the blanket away and threw it back on the bed.
"Yeah? Who's there?"
A female voice identifying herself as Samantha Kim begged to gain entrance. I did a little jig as I struggled to put on a shirt and a pair of shorts at the same time. I usually would have happy to have a woman at my door except I didn't know anyone named Samantha.
I checked the peephole to make sure she was alone. The fish eye view I got was of a woman who kept checking both sides of the hall. She didn't look like she would be too much trouble, then again who did? I unbolted the door and let her in.
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