Wailupe
Dark had just settled on the Wailupe peninsula as I drove down Terri’s street, my headlights illuminating the well-manicured lawns, the stately royal palms, the expensive cars and boats on trailers in driveways. “Danny insisted he had to wait up for you,” Terri said, holding him in her arms as she answered the door.
Her son was barely keeping his eyes open, but he mumbled, “Uncle Kimo,” and I took him in my arms and gave him a kiss on the forehead and a big hug.
“Will you go to bed now that I’m here?”
“Okay. If you tuck me in.”
“I can do that.” I waved hello to Harry in the living room as I carried Danny to his bedroom.
I had to be introduced to all his stuffed animal friends, and begin reading him a story, but within minutes he was snoring softly. I turned the lights out and went back to the living room, where Harry had a beer waiting for me.
“Man, I need this,” I said, taking a grateful drink. “You’ll never guess what my father did today.” I told them the story.
“Poor thing,” Terri said. “It’s sweet the way he stood up for you.”
“It’s stupid. I can’t tell you how many cases I’ve seen where people do dumb things like that and the outcome is a lot worse.” I took another long swallow. “I also told them that I’ve been working undercover.”
“How did they take it?” Harry asked.
I tore at the label on the beer bottle. “I shifted all the blame to Lui—said Lieutenant Sampson didn’t trust him not to make news out of me, so I couldn’t tell anyone. My mother wasn’t real happy. Even so, it feels great not to have to lie to them any more. Though God knows if they’ll believe anything I say for a while.”
“Your parents love you,” Terri said. “They’ll believe whatever you tell them.”
We caught up on Danny’s school, Harry’s girlfriend Arleen and her son Brandon, and life in general. Finally, Harry said, “So any chance of you getting back to Honolulu in this lifetime?”
“I think I’m getting close.” I drained the last of my beer and got another, and we moved to the kitchen table, where we dug into the Chinese takeout. “I’ve been assuming that the target was Tommy Singer, because he surfed, and that Brad Jacobson was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Suppose it was the opposite?”
“Somebody wanted to kill your friend?” Harry asked. “Why?”
“I think the killer knew I was getting close to him, and he killed Brad and Tommy to throw me off the scent, and confuse me, and maybe even make me into a suspect.”
“Because of your personal relationship with Brad?”
I nodded. “It could have been a warning to me. Or maybe somebody’s who so homophobic that he wanted to make sure the gay ex-cop would get blamed. There’s no ballistics match to the previous crimes, but I still think they’re related.”
“And don’t forget the idea that someone wants to clean out the North Shore,” Terri said. “Remember how we talked about land values. Somebody like your friend Ari, that ‘nice Greek fella,’ could buy up more property at a discount, or push through the approvals he needs, if business on the North Shore goes way down.”
“He’s not exactly a nice Greek fella,” Harry said. “He was actually born Harold Pincus, but changed his name after dodging a fraud conviction.”
We filled Terri in on Ari’s background, and then I told them both everything I had learned about Dario, The Next Wave, and the possibility that Dario, Kevin Ruiz and the ice trade on the North Shore were all connected.
“That’s a lot of material,” Terri said.
“You bet. I’ve been trying to get my mind around it for days now.”
Harry opened his laptop and started creating a matrix for all the information. Terri chimed in occasionally with ideas, and by the time we were done, at least I had everything organized—a sequence of events, possible perpetrators and motives, and additional details for me to track down.
Our last suspect was Rich Sarkissian. “That guy gives me the creeps,” Terri said.
Remembering how we had worked together at the outrigger halau, I said, “He’s actually not that creepy, except for the fact that he hates surfers.”
Harry made a snorting noise, which I ignored.
“Aunt Emma gave me the papers today for Uncle Bishop to sign,” Terri continued. “But I can’t let this deal go through until I know that he’s not involved in these people getting killed. Especially with what you’ve told me about Ari, the whole thing makes me very uncomfortable. Uncle Bishop is expecting me to bring the papers up to him tomorrow but I don’t know what to tell him.”
“Don’t say anything yet,” I said. “Just stall for a few more days. Can you cancel your meeting tomorrow?”
“Let me call him now. He should know that there’s something fishy in Ari’s background.”
She left the room, and Harry and I went back to his matrix. She returned in a few minutes, though. “Bad news. I told Uncle Bishop I’d done some checking into Ari’s background and wasn’t sure he could be trusted, and he went ballistic. He insisted that I come up tomorrow and give Ari a chance to defend himself.”
“I’ll go with you. I’m the one who found the evidence, after all.”
Her meeting was at two, so I decided I’d check with Sampson and if it was okay with him, I’d head up to the North Shore in the morning, meet her for lunch, and then we’d go over to Bishop Clark’s together.
We finished dinner, and I drove back to Waikiki. I had trouble falling asleep, with so many ideas ricocheting around in my brain—my parents, the surf killer, real estate values on the North Shore, my brothers, Brad, Ari, Dario. Harry’s matrix kept recurring in my dreams, as I struggled to catch the killer before he could strike again.
» » »
I couldn’t get hold of Sampson before I left Honolulu, but I left him a voice mail. Driving up the Kam, I wondered if I would ever get back to the life I had once lived. Would I be transferred permanently to someplace like Wahiawa—if I was ever able to go back to official detective work?
I pulled up at Cane Landing and unloaded. I couldn’t go surfing, because I had promised Sampson I’d keep a low profile. I didn’t want to go to The Next Wave, because I didn’t know how the store, or Dario himself, might figure in the case. I pulled out Harry’s matrix and studied it, turning the pieces over in my head.
I gave up just before noon, and hurried down into Hale’iwa to meet Terri at Jameson’s for lunch. The roads were empty, and many businesses along the way were closed and shuttered, as if a hurricane was approaching. There was only a single car in the parking lot of The Next Wave as I passed.
Terri and I sat by the window and looked out at the ocean. There was hardly any traffic, and only a few brave surfers out on the waves. “There is such a fragile balance,” she said. “Between success and failure, between nature and development, between life and death. Look at how quickly things have fallen apart up here.”
I knew she was also talking about how fast her life had changed when her husband died. “I know, sweetie,” I said, reaching out to take her hand.
“Tell me you don’t think my uncle is involved in this business.”
“I just don’t know. There’s a link that ties all this together, and I can almost see it. But it’s like a name that’s on the tip of your tongue, just one brain cell away from connecting.”
Neither of us had much appetite and the dismal atmosphere inside Jameson’s and outside the window didn’t help. Finally we gave up, and drove my truck up to Bishop’s house. Rich let us in the gate, though he showed no sign of the friendliness I’d seen at the outrigger halau.
Ari was already there when we arrived, drinking lemonade out of those same French crystal glasses, talking to Bishop about how beautiful his new home was going to be. “I hope you’ll let me explain,” Ari said. “I think you owe me that much.”
“Nobody’s here to accuse anyone of anything,” I said. “Terri just has some concerns about your background and how that impacts the deal.”
“None of Terri’s goddamn business,” Bishop muttered.
“It’s okay, Bishop. I welcome the chance to get this all on the table.” Ari described the viatical corporation he’d begun in Minnesota, to help some friends with AIDS who were desperately in need of money for medicine and living expenses. How the financial assumptions had been knocked out when the new drugs gave AIDS patients the chance to return to work and health.
“I finally had to file for bankruptcy,” he said. “My investors ended up holding the policies, and they’ll cash in eventually. No one was ruined, and a lot of guys got the cash they needed. I’m sorry the business folded, but I believe I acted morally.”
“Then why’d you change your name?” I asked.
“I wanted a fresh start. You can understand that, can’t you, Kimo? Don’t you wish sometimes you could move to a new place where no one knew you, start over again? Growing up, we had Greek neighbors, and I loved their culture. I always hated my name—when I was a kid, the bullies used to call me Pincushion and stick me with pins and needles. One day I’d just had enough, and I decided to start over.”
“See!” Bishop said. “Everything’s fine. Terri, you worry too much.”
Terri opened her portfolio and pulled some papers out. “There are just a couple of little changes Aunt Emma wanted to make,” she said.
“No more changes,” Bishop said. “I want to get this deal signed.”
“I agree with Bishop,” Ari said. “My partners and I are very anxious to get something going, and we’ve been approached by the owner of another parcel out in Mokuleia that we might be able to find just as suitable.”
“See, Terri, we’ve got to get this deal signed,” Bishop said. “Otherwise we might lose it, and then where would I be?”
“You’d be right where you are, Uncle Bishop. You’ve run through your inheritance and your trust fund, and all you’ve got left is this property. But you forget, it’s not completely yours. The Trust and the rest of the family still have a say, and I’m here to make sure that at least a part of this land is protected in a way that our family can be proud of.”
Bishop started yelling, demanding that she agree to the terms as already spelled out. Terri wasn’t yelling back, because that’s not what Great-Aunt Emma would expect of her, but she wasn’t backing down either.
Then Ari started talking, trying to mediate between the two of them, but frankly, they were all giving me a headache. I walked over to the windows to look out at the water, and that’s when I heard the shots.