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.
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.
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