Back to the Drainpipe

The Drainpipe was not nearly as busy on Sunday evening as it had been on Saturday night, and I saw Frank behind the bar as I came in. I picked a stool, and when he came over I ordered a Kona Pacific Golden Ale. Even though it’s brewed on the mainland, it’s about as local a beer as you can get these days.

It took a little while before Frank had a free moment to come over and chat with me, and I busied myself with enjoying my beer and checking out the rest of the patrons. A few surfers, a few tourists, a few locals. George and Larry were nowhere in sight, which I found a relief. I’d had enough wild sex to last me for at least a few days, though I wasn’t sure I’d be able to resist temptation, if it was placed before me.

“How’s it going, dude?” Frank said, coming over to stand in front of me. He wore a San Francisco 49ers ball cap and a Budweiser T-shirt, and still had that annoying little goatee.

“Just chilling. If you’ve got a minute, though, I wanted to ask you more about Lucie.”

“I’m taking a break in about ten,” he said, looking at the clock.

“Cool.” The time passed quickly, and he came out from behind the bar, bringing me a fresh beer, and led me to a table at the far side of the room, where it was quieter.

“You’re the guy that used to be the cop, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Word gets around.”

“You gonna find out what happened to Lucie?”

“I’m going to try. That’s why I had some questions for you.”

“Fire away.”

“I know she was dealing ice,” I said. “I’ve talked to somebody who used to buy from her. And I know she used to hang out here to meet up with customers. I’m not trying to jam you or anybody else up over that. What I’m trying to trace back is where she got the stuff from.”

“She was always real cagey about that,” Frank said. He pulled a pack of sugar out of the dispenser and swung it back and forth between his fingers. “But I think she had a contact at the place she used to work, The Next Wave. Even after she quit working there, she’d be stopping by, at weird hours like after closing or first thing in the morning.”

“She ever mention any names? Even a first name or a nickname?”

He shook his head. “Like I said, she was pretty secretive about it. It was like she was embarrassed, you know? Her mom was this real sweet lady, hard-working, totally honest. A maid at this hotel in Waikiki. Lucie’d tell me stories all the time about stuff her mom found, that she’d turn in to the hotel, because it was the right thing to do. Her mom would’ve died to know Lucie was selling drugs.”

He looked at the clock. “Gotta get back behind the bar. You think of anything else, just ask me.”

“Okay.”

He stood up and walked back behind the bar. Based on what Rik had told me, I needed to talk to Ari. I looked at my watch. It was just nine o’clock; I could probably make a stop by Sugar’s and not seem like I was stalking Brad.

I drained my beer, waved at Frank, and drove the mile or two to Sugar’s. Like the Drainpipe, it was quiet, but I was lucky to see Ari sitting alone at a table by the window, sipping something that looked like a Cosmopolitan and making notes on a Palm Pilot.

He looked up as I got close to his table, and said, “If you’re looking for Brad, he’s already gone.”

“I was kind of looking for him. But for you, too. Got a minute?”

“Sure.”

“Let me just get a beer.” I got another Kona ale, and sat across from Ari.

“So Brad found out about your little dalliance?” Ari asked, tilting his head toward me.

“Yup. I didn’t realize it would bother him. I mean, I hardly know him. He was really nice to me, getting me cleaned up, and we had sex a couple of times. But it’s not like we had any kind of relationship.”

“He’s a little sensitive,” Ari said. “And this isn’t the first time this has happened.”

“So why’d he come yell at me? Why not go after Larry and George?”

Ari crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. “Because we all live here, and we see each other all the time.”

“Okay. Doesn’t make much sense to me, but I can see it.”

He closed his Palm Pilot and put it away in the briefcase by his side. “So what did you want from me?” he asked, as he looked back up.

“I wanted to ask you about Lucie. I’ve been hearing that she was trying to get away from selling drugs, go legit. She got a real estate license.”

“Yup. I told her that if my project went through, I’d hire her to work for me, selling units. And she’d have been good at it, too. She was hungry, and hungry people make the best salespeople.”

“By hungry you mean…”

“She had a big appetite for life,” Ari said, waving his right hand around. “She liked designer labels and expensive meals and traveling to surf competitions around the world. She had been brought up poor and didn’t want to be poor any more. Somebody with that kind of motivation will do what it takes to close a deal.”

I took a drink of my beer. It was just as good as the first two had been. “You think she would have given up dealing drugs if she came to work for you?”

He shrugged. “I hoped so. I had a feeling she was heading for trouble. I guess she didn’t get ahead of it fast enough.”

“Is there any possibility that whoever she worked for might have resented her wanting to get out, or that she knew more than she should have?”

“Always possible,” Ari said. “It wasn’t like we sat around and talked about her dealer or anything. I deliberately didn’t talk about any of that stuff with her, because I didn’t want to know.”

I nodded. I didn’t have anything else to ask, but I was happy enough to sit there with Ari drinking my beer. By the time I’d finished it, though, he’d finished his Cosmopolitan, and we both stood up around the same time. “Give Brad a day or two to simmer down,” Ari said. “That is, if you’re still interested.”

“He’s a nice guy. I don’t want to hurt him.”

“I’m glad.” We walked out to the parking lot together, and he hugged me before we parted. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too.” I got into my truck, and felt the accumulation of all my surfing and my late nights. I drove back to Hibiscus House and fell promptly and soundly asleep, not waking until six the next morning.

I woke feeling refreshed, yet somehow very sad. Seeing my family the day before had made me realize how much I missed my old life in Honolulu, my friends, my job. But the only way to get back there was to solve the three murders, and I had to keep on surfing, and pretending to be a disgraced former detective who had nothing better to do than hit the waves.

It was enough to make you crazy. And when I get crazy, I surf—that’s how I let go of what’s bothering me and clear my head so I can get back to work. I knew I needed to think about Brad and what had happened on Saturday night and then on Sunday, and I hoped that I could work it all in between waves. Which led me to Pipeline, just a little while before the bodies were found.