“Guys in their late teens, early twenties,” I said, “are restless everywhere, not just Hawaii.”
“Yeah, but a lot of kids here are
“Then you don’t think the Ala Moana boys are ‘gangsters’?”
“No, and I don’t think they’re rapists, either.”
“Why’s that?”
Crabbe sighed. The cool wind was cutting through the warmth of the afternoon, making his dark blond hair dance; handsome damn kid—if he wasn’t so affable, I’d have hated his guts.
His gaze was steady. “There’s an old Island saying—‘Hawaiians will talk.’ But the cops couldn’t get anything out of the boys.”
“So what? Lots of suspects in all kinds of cases keep their traps shut.”
He shook his head. “Not Hawaiian suspects. If the cops and their billy clubs and blacksnake whips didn’t get the story out of ’em,
“And it hasn’t?”
“Nope. Why do you think support among the colored population is so overwhelmingly on the side of the ‘rapists’? Besides, you don’t have to rape a woman on Oahu. There’s too much good stuff ready for the asking.”
Maybe if you looked like this kid, there was.
“That area Thalia Massie was walking along when she got grabbed,” I said, “was a red-light district. Maybe Horace Ida and his pals were riding along and mistook her for a chippie and decided to tear off a free piece.”
He thought about that. “That’s the best case anybody’s made for the prosecution so far. That’s certainly the way it could’ ve happened. But not by the Ala Moana boys.”
“Why?”
“Because Hawaiians will talk! Word around town, among the colored population, is it was
This kid would’ve made a good lawyer. Maybe after he got this Olympic stuff out of his system, he’d finish up law school.
“You got the time, Nate?”
I checked my watch. I told him it was getting close to two.
He stood; his musculature had the same sinewy rippling quality as the Duke’s. “Guess I better scoot. I’m supposed to be over at the Natatorium by two.”
“The what?”
“Natatorium. It’s a saltwater pool over near Diamond Head. It’s where I’m training.”
“Good luck to you,” I said and offered my hand.
He shook it and was gathering his towel to go when I asked casually, “Why’d you wanna have lunch with me today, Buster?”
That was his nickname, wasn’t it? Isn’t that what he told me on the pier after the
Must’ve been, because he answered, “Why, I just wanted to repay your kindness on the ship the other day —”
“You ever met any of the Ala Moana boys?”
He blinked. “Yeah, uh…I knew Joe Kahahawai. I know Benny Ahakuelo, too.”
“Local athletes, like you.”
“Yeah.” Now he gave me an embarrassed grin. “And you caught me at it—trying to put in a good word for my friends, without letting you know they are my friends….”
“I’m a detective. They pay me for catching people at things.”
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to mislead you—”
“Don’t apologize for trying to help out your friends. Listen, Buster—you didn’t tell me any lies, did you?”
“No. Just that one little sin of omission….”
I grinned at him. “That makes you a hell of a lot more reliable than most people I talk to. Thanks for the information. Good luck in Los Angeles.”
That was the upcoming Olympics site.
“Thanks, Nate.” He flashed another embarrassed grin, waved, and was gone.
Darrow was moving up onto the beach. Duke Kahanamoku was heading back out with his pals in the outrigger, probably to duck the reporters. Before, the sound of Darrow’s voice had been muffled in the gentle roar of the waves and the happy chatter of the sunbathers and swimmers, running in and out of the surf, or sprawled on the white sand on towels to broil like lobsters. But now, as C.D. and the reporters moved toward the hotel and the row of tables with beach umbrellas, where we sat, I could pretty well make out what they were saying….
