Damned in Paradise

But I felt it was my duty to protect other women and girls….”

Isabel patted her cousin’s hand again. “You did the right thing, Thalo.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t bear to think that some other girl might have to go through what I did,” she said, “at the hands of those brutes. From a personal standpoint, the punishment of these creatures was secondary to just getting them off the street—only the ordeal of that trial didn’t accomplish that, did it?”

“My investigation may,” I said.

She cocked her head. “How do you mean?”

I shrugged. “If I can gather enough new evidence, they’ll be put away.”

Her laugh was throaty and humorless. “Oh, wonderful! Another trial, after this one! When will this end? No one who hasn’t undergone such an experience can possibly imagine the strain upon not just the victim, but their family….”

“Isn’t that why we’re here?” I suggested.

“I would imagine you’re here because of money,” she snapped.

“Thalo!” Isabel said.

“I know,” she said resignedly, and sighed. “I know. Your Nate is only trying to help. Well, if going to court again, and testifying as to the details of that terrible night, will help my family…and save other girls from similar horrifying experiences…then I feel the end will justify the means.”

I might have pointed out that the end justifying the means was the kind of thinking that got her hubby and mumsy in such hot water; but since she seemed to have just talked herself into cooperating with me, I let it pass.

“Good,” I said. “Now—I was up late last night…” I took out my notebook, thumbing to the right page. “…going over the court transcripts and various statements you made…. Please understand that I’m only asking questions that the prosecution is likely to bring up.”

“Go ahead, Mr. Heller.” She forced a smile. “Nate.”

“Normally,” I said, “a witness’s recollections decrease geometrically with the passage of time. But your memory, about this unfortunate event, seems only to improve.”

Her mouth twitched, as if it were trying to decide whether to frown or smile; it did neither. “My recollection of the ‘unfortunate event’ is all too clear, I’m afraid. I suppose you’re referring to the statements I made that night, or rather in the early morning hours that followed….”

“Yes,” I said. “You were questioned by an Inspector Jardine, also a cop named Furtado, and of course Inspector Mclntosh, within hours of the assault. And several other cops, as well. You even spoke to the nurse at the emergency hospital, a Nurse Fawcett….”

“That’s right. What of it?”

“Well, you told these various cops, and Nurse Fawcett, that you couldn’t identify your assailants. That it was too dark. But you thought that maybe you could identify them by voice.”

Thalia said nothing; her Kewpie doll mouth was pursed as if to blow me a kiss. Somehow I didn’t think she had that in mind.

“Yet now your recollections include physical descriptions of the assailants, down to the clothes they were wearing.”

“I’m telling the truth, Mr. Heller. As I recall it now.”

“Make it Nate.” I took another sip of the coffee; it was a strong, bitter brew. “You also said, initially, that you were convinced the boys were Hawaiian, as opposed to Chinese, Japanese, Filipino, or whatever. You said you recognized the way they spoke as Hawaiian.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “They were all colored, weren’t they?”

“But only Kahahawai and Ahakuelo were Hawaiian, and two of the boys were Japanese and the last one Chinese.”

Another throaty laugh. “And you can tell the difference?”

“In Chicago we know the difference between a Jap and a Chinaman, sure.”

I was watching Beatrice out of the corner of an eye, and she didn’t flinch at my racial crudity.

“Is that right?” Thalia said. “Does that hold true even when you’re being raped?”

Isabel looked very uncomfortable. She clearly didn’t like the way this was going.

I leaned in. “Thalia—Mrs. Massie—I’m playing a sort of devil’s advocate here, okay? Looking for the weak spots that the prosecution can kill us with. If you have any explanations besides knee-jerk defensive smartass remarks, I’d appreciate hearing them.”

Now Isabel leaned in—frowning. “Nate—that’s a little forward, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t go to finishing school,” I said. “I went to school on the West Side of Chicago where first graders carry knives and pistols. So you’ll have to pardon my lack of social graces…but when you’re in a jam, I’m the kind of roughneck you want to have around. And, Mrs. Massie—Thalia—you’re in a hell of a jam, or anyway, your husband and mother are. They can do twenty to life on this rap.”

There was silence—silence but for the chirping of caged birds out in the nearby lobby, and the gentle but ceaseless surge of the surf on the shore.

Thalia Massie, the black lenses of her glasses fixed upon me, said, “Ask your questions.”

I sighed; flipped a notebook page.