“Eight-something at night?”
“Yes, eight-something at night. Did I wake you? Were you napping?”
“Yeah. That old man Clarence Darrow wore me the hell out. Where are you? Here in the hotel?”
“No,” she said, and there was disappointment in her voice. “I’m still at Thalia’s. She’s not moving out to Pearl Harbor till tomorrow, so I’m staying with her, tonight.”
“Too bad—I could use the company. I seem to have this whole barn to myself.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. I hear business at the Royal Hawaiian is terrible since the Crash.”
I sat up. “Listen, I’d like to talk to Thalia again—without C.D. and Leisure around. There’s hardly anybody at this damn joint—maybe you and she could come around for breakfast. I don’t think there’ll be too many gawkers.”
“Let me ask her,” Isabel said. She was gone for a minute or so, then came back: “Thalia would love to get away. What time?”
“How about nine? Just a second, let me look at this…” There was an information card on the nightstand with room service and other restaurant info. “We’ll meet at the Surf Porch. Just ask at the desk and they’ll shoo you in the right direction.”
“This sounds delightful, Nathan. See you tomorrow. Love you.”
“Back at ya.”
I rolled out of bed. I stretched, yawned loudly. I was hungry; maybe I’d put my pants on and go down and charge a great big fancy meal to my room. That was one way to stretch fifty bucks a week expenses.
Yanking the cord, I lifted the big window shade and let the night air roll in off the balcony. Then I wandered out there in my shorts and socks to drink in the night. The sky was purple and scattered with stars; the moon, full and almost golden, cast glimmering highlights on the ebony ocean. Diamond Head was a slumbering silhouette, barely discernible. I drew in the sea breeze, basked in the beauty of the breakers rolling in.
“Please excuse intrusion,” a quiet voice said.
I damn near fell off the balcony.
“Did not wish to disturb you.” He was seated in a wicker chair, to the left, back away from the ledge of the balcony, a skinny little Chinese guy in a white suit with a black bow tie, a Panama hat in his lap.
I stepped forward, fists balled. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”
He stood; he was no more than five foot. He bowed.
“Took liberty of waiting for you to wake up.”
His head had a skull-like appearance, accentuated by his high forehead and wispy, thinning graying hair. His nose was thinly hawkish, his mouth a wide narrow line over a spade-like jaw; but his most striking feature was his eyes: deeply socketed, bright and alert, and the right one had a nasty scar above and below it, the entire socket discolored, like an eye patch of flesh. Knife scar, I’d wager, and he was lucky he didn’t lose the eye.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Detective First Grade Chang Apana. Care to see badge?”
“No thanks,” I said, letting out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “It would
“Roundabout way often shortest path to correct destination.”
“Who said that? Confucius?”
He shook his head, no. “Derr Biggers.”
Whoever that was.
I asked, “You mind if I put on my pants?”
“By all means. You mind if I smoke?”
We sat on the balcony in wicker chairs. As we spoke, he chain-smoked. That wasn’t a very Charlie Chan-like thing to do; and, as I recalled, the fictional detective was roly-poly. But maybe Chang Apana and his storybook counterpart had other things in common.
“What are you doing here, Detective Apana?”
“You’re working with famous lawyer—Clarence Darrow. On Massie case.”
“That’s right. But I haven’t even started poking around yet. How did you know…?”
“Chief of police showed me paperwork giving you permission to carry weapon and investigate, here. You’re Chicago policeman?”
“That’s right. I took a leave of absence to help Mr. Darrow out. We’re old friends.”
A tiny smile tickled the line of a mouth. “You’re not old at all, Mr. Heller. I have been detective for thirty-seven years.”
That surprised me, but looking at the crevices on that skeletal mug, I could believe it.
“You still haven’t told me what brings you here, Detective Apana.”
“Please. Call me Apana, or Chang. I am here to offer aid and information to brother officer.”
“Well, then, why don’t you call me Nate, Chang. Why do you want to help me? Where do you stand on the
