myself. “Let me see,” he said.
I handed him the picture. “Hunky. That’s him all right. That’s the cop Tommy was paying off.”
“That’s the man who was at the club the night Tommy was killed?”
“That’s him.”
He adjusted his robe a little so that the head of his penis peeked out the side. “You’re very sexy, do you know that?” He put his hand on my arm and my flesh tingled.
I took the picture from him and put it back in the envelope, gently shrugging his hand off. “Thanks. You’ve been very helpful.” I started to get up.
“Hold on a minute.” He pulled on my sleeve and I sat back down next to him. He looked directly at me, and I felt a shiver of sexual tension run through me. I didn’t know what to do.
He took my right hand and slid it under his kimono, leaving it to rest on his cock, which began to harden at my touch. My mouth was dry again. I couldn’t say anything. He leaned over and kissed me.
I started to stroke his dick, which was fully erect by then. He kissed me harder, pressing his tongue into my mouth, then kissing my upper lip and running his tongue behind it. I kissed him back, though I knew it was wrong.
He pushed me back on the sofa and started unbuttoning my shirt, continuing to kiss me and then, when he could, tweaking my nipples until they were hard and sore. I was totally swept up in the passion of the moment, more passion than I could ever remember feeling, and couldn’t resist him at all. Soon my aloha shirt was open and he’d undone my pants. It was an incredible rush when he freed my cock from my shorts and then leaned down and put his mouth on it.
I ran my fingers through his curly blond hair. He teased me with his tongue, bringing me to the point of release, and then pulled back. “You like that, don’t you,” he said, bringing his face back up to mine. “Faggot cop,” he whispered, running his tongue over my lips. “Cocksucker cop.”
I wanted to get away, but I couldn’t. He had me totally in his control. Even as he kept calling me names, he licked and squeezed and teased me and I couldn’t do anything about it. He went down on me again and this time I thought I’d never felt such exquisite agony. Then there was a heavy knock on the door, which I had closed behind me.
“That’s my delivery,” Wayne said. “Don’t move.”
He got up and went to the door. I knew this was my only chance. I stood up, buttoning my pants and shirt hurriedly. My whole groin was wet with his saliva and my sweat. My hair was tousled and I’d missed a button on my shirt.
Wayne came back from the door holding a box the size of a small computer. “You can’t leave yet,” he said. “We’ve hardly started.”
He put the box down and came toward me, but I ducked around him and headed for the door. “Thanks for your help,” I said. I made it out into the hallway and to the elevator, where I pressed the down button.
He came to the door and stood there, his robe hanging open, his large dick hard and standing straight away from his body. “You want it,” he said. “Come back, baby. Let me give it to you.” He put his hand on his dick.
My mouth was dry again. The elevator came and I got in. As the doors closed I heard the phone ringing in the apartment and I could see Wayne still standing in the doorway, holding his dick and licking his lips. I felt like Little Red Riding Hood escaping from the wolf.
All the way back to Waikiki I kept thinking about Wayne Gallagher. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, was it-one person taking such control. There was a meanness under his sexuality that scared me-those names he called me, the roughness he’d used when he’d tweaked my nipples. It scared me to think that I liked that, that I had responded to that kind of treatment. What if that was really what turned me on-guys in leather harnesses with chains and handcuffs, hurting me in the name of pleasure? I had what I considered an essential belief in human dignity, in the need to treat everyone with respect. It was one of the cornerstones of my life as a cop. What if in my personal life I couldn’t hold on to that?
Akoni had gotten a positive ID from Derek, and we met back at the station to complete the paperwork for Evan’s arrest. We had gotten a fax of the autopsy for the body found in Kapiolani Park, but we had to shelve it until we finished with Tommy Pang’s murder. It took the rest of the morning, and it was almost two o’clock before I called Evan’s office to say I needed to meet with him. “He’s not in today,” the unit secretary told me. “A personal day. His wife had to fly to Maui for the day, so he’s home with his son.” She paused, and I could hear her sucking on the straw in the giant-sized water bottle I knew she kept by her desk. “He’s taking calls out there, though,” she continued. “I’ve already referred a couple of people out to him already.”
I relayed the news to Akoni. I didn’t want to have to arrest Evan in front of Danny, but once we got to the Gonsalves house in Wailupe, we’d deal with that.
We drove out in his Taurus, with Saunders and Alvy Greenberg in a black and white behind us for backup. We pulled up in the half-round driveway, behind Evan’s Saturn, and rang the doorbell.
No one answered. I put my ear up to the door and listened. I heard what sounded like a child crying, though at the time I thought it might have been Evan. “Evan!” I called. “It’s Kimo. Let me in.”
No answer. I looked at Akoni. Without saying anything, we split up and walked around the house in opposite directions. There was a lot of landscaping and it was hard to get close to the building. We met again in the backyard, where there was a stone lanai with a hibiscus hedge. From there we could see into the living room through sliding glass doors.
Danny Gonsalves was sitting in the middle of the living room floor crying. There was no sign of Evan anywhere. “I’ve got a screwdriver in the car,” Akoni said, and walked toward the driveway. While he was gone I tried to communicate to Danny, to get him to come to the door, but I couldn’t reach him. Akoni returned a moment later with the screwdriver, which he used to jimmy the lock on the sliding door.
I stepped in first. “Evan!” I called. There was no answer.
Danny didn’t move. He was dead scared, rocking back and forth and crying. I squatted down next to him. “What’s the matter, Danny?” I asked. “You remember me, don’t you? Kimo? I’m a friend of your mom and dad.”
He didn’t talk, but he grabbed onto my shirt with his fists and held on fiercely. “Something’s wrong here,” Akoni said. “I’m gonna take a look.”
Greenberg and Saunders stood outside, waiting, in case Evan came back, and I stayed in the living room with Danny while Akoni explored the house. He was gone a few minutes when he came back, a grim look on his face. “He’s in the study,” he said. “The room just behind here. He’s dead.”
I looked at him, not really believing. “Evan?”
Akoni nodded. “We got a pile of shit here.”
END OF THINGS
I disengaged Danny from my shirt and left him sitting on the sofa, with Akoni watching him. He had stopped crying but he still wasn’t talking. We had Alvy Greenberg radio in for a crime scene team, and I walked into the study to see Evan Gonsalves. He was sitting behind a modern computer desk, and his five-shot Smith and Wesson Undercover. 38 in his right hand. The hand lay on the desk and his body was slumped forward. There was a hole in the side of his head where the bullet had gone in, and a lot of blood around him, on the desk, the chair, his body and the floor.
I didn’t touch him, but I did lean down and see that the powder burns matched what I saw, death at close range. It seemed clearly a suicide, even though there was no note anywhere.
I looked around the room, trying to get some sort of psychic sense of what had happened there. What was Evan doing in his study? Had Danny been napping, maybe, and then walked in to discover his father’s body? I’d seen a lot of bodies during my years on the force, but the first couple had wrenched my stomach and torn at the linings of my heart. I wasn’t surprised Danny was nearly catatonic.
I looked around. The rest of the room was neatly organized-books on the bookshelves along one wall, the stereo and the TV off, Danny’s Nintendo sitting on a shelf with the cords neatly wrapped. I knew Evan had been in trouble, and I hadn’t reached out to him-I had been too careful, waited too long, because I thought I was protecting
