house was a dramatic change from Mrs. Ianello’s, very spare and Japanese, paper-thin shoji-screens and low cushions on the floor. Terri and I slipped off our shoes at the front door and stepped down into a sunken living room.
Terri thankfully sat on the floor and played with the twins so that Mrs. Yamanaka could concentrate on my questions. She was a Nisei, first generation American, and she periodically threw Japanese comments at the little girls as they played.
She always shopped on Thursdays, she said, because that was the day her mother could come and stay with the babies. “Do you remember anything unusual when you came home?” I asked. “Strange cars in the neighborhood, strangers walking around?”
“This is a quiet area. Sometimes we get tourists looking for a way to the beach. But usually not.” She thought. “I remember I had bought ice cream,” she said, “And I was afraid it was going to melt, because it was such a hot day. So I was hurrying to get home, and just when I got here there was a car going so slowly in front of me I nearly hit it. I was annoyed. I almost blew my horn, but I only had a block to go and I was afraid they would go even slower.”
“Did you see the car stop anywhere?”
She shook her head. “As soon as I got home I started carrying in the groceries. And you know, the twins, they make a fuss, so I couldn’t pay attention to anything else.”
“You’ve been very helpful,” I said, only telling a small lie. She had indeed corroborated Mrs. Ianello’s story, which was important.
No one else in the neighborhood had seen anything. It was eleven-thirty by then, and I had to hurry to meet Lui at noon downtown. “Danny will be disappointed he missed you again,” Terri said.
“You tell him we’ll have another picnic. Soon.”
I had to drive hell-for-leather to make it into downtown in time. My brother, the big executive, values his time, and refuses to wait more than five minutes for anyone. Anyone, that is, with the exception of his wife and our mother. Once, about six years ago, our parents were supposed to take him out to dinner to celebrate his promotion to assistant station manager. Our father got tied up on a project, and our parents were about twenty minutes late to meet him. He’d already left and gone on to something else. Between his mother and his wife, I think he got blistered enough to burn off a complete layer of skin. So he’s a little more patient with them.
I’ve seen Lui at the office. He’s totally in control, and people literally cower when he yells. He can reduce a secretary or a cameraman to tears or inarticulate rage and then turn on his heel like nothing has happened. Yet his wife Liliha rules their home. To a great degree, Haoa’s wife Tatiana is the same way. It made me wonder, as I dodged and darted through downtown traffic, if I would break the pattern. Would I end up with a man like my mother, who would control my life? Or would I choose a man like my father, who would be content to sit back and hand me the reins?
Or, and here was a revolutionary suggestion, maybe I could find a partner. Somebody who’d share the duties of the drive through life with me. Unfortunately, I didn’t think it was really a matter of conscious choice. We don’t have much control over who attracts us. The rules of attraction, it seems, are stacked against individual choice. So I could be attracted to Tim, to Gunter and to Wayne Gallagher at the same time, for different reasons, and though I could fight against those attractions I couldn’t, fundamentally, do anything to change them.
I made it. Lui and I approached the coffee shop from different directions at just the same time. From a slight distance, I could watch him as he came up to me. He’s the shortest of the three of us, the one with the most pronounced Asian features. For this, I think, he was always our maternal grandfather’s favorite.
Our mother’s father lived out beyond Pearl City in an old shack, and refused to move even when my father could have built him a new house. He was crotchety and strong-willed, and Haoa and I were always a little frightened of him. Lui, as the first grandson, had a different relationship. They would get together and talk in low tones, and in his mutual rejection of us was the only unity I knew with Haoa as a child.
Lui was also an impeccable dresser. Very Brooks Brothers, always perfectly pressed. I didn’t think I’d seen him wear an aloha shirt since his teens. He even wore ties on the weekends, because, as he said, you never know who you might meet and the impression you might need to make.
I knew the impression I would make. I was wearing cargo shorts with big pockets and a purple polo shirt, with black and brown deck shoes and no socks. Usually Lui stopped a few feet away from me and shook his head in disdain at my appearance. Today, though, he surprised me by coming right up to me and hugging me.
I hugged him back. It was strange. He and Haoa were so different from each other, and from me, and yet they were my brothers, and I loved them deeply and fiercely, with a love I only recognized in surprise.
We ordered bentos, Japanese-style box lunches, and chatted about his family, then sat down to eat. “So what can I do for you?” Lui asked. “You need money?”
I shook my head. “A lawyer, then? Somebody to represent you?”
“I don’t need a lawyer, and I don’t need any money. I do need something, though.”
I told him what I thought had happened to Evan Gonsalves. “I need a confession out of this. I’m going to try and get one out of Wayne Gallagher tomorrow night. But I need a wire, and I can’t go to the police because I’m suspended, and I’m supposed to stay out of this case, and besides, Lieutenant Yumuri would never believe me.”
“We might have some of the equipment at the station.”
“Here’s the list Harry gave me,” I said. “He can put it all together.”
Lui looked at the list. I expected he’d have to pass it on to one of his technicians, but he said, “We have this, and this, and this, three of these, I can get you the wire, okay. We have all of this. But where are you going to put it? You’ll need some kind of panel truck.” Before I could speak he said, “I can’t lend you one of the station’s trucks. They’re too visible.” He thought for a minute. “You can use one of Haoa’s trucks. I’ll call him and work it out.”
“Haoa may not want to get into this. He doesn’t exactly approve of what’s going on with me at the moment.”
“Haoa will do what I tell him to do,” Lui said. I looked at him. “He’s your brother, too, Kimo. He’ll want to help you.”
“If you say so.”
“Give me Harry’s phone number. I’ll call him when I have everything together.”
I gave him Harry’s phone and cell numbers and then said, “I appreciate this, Lui. I don’t quite know how it happened, but all of a sudden I’m dragging more and more people into my problems.”
“We’re your family,” he said. “That’s what we’re here for.”
REACHING OUT
When I walked up the alley behind the Rod and Reel Club, I saw Wayne’s black Jeep Cherokee parked in front of the door. Arleen was sitting at her desk, talking to her mother. In Japanese, she said, “The policeman is back, the cute one.”
In Japanese, I said, “Tell your mother I said hello,” and she turned red.
“You never said you could speak Japanese!” she said, in English.
“You never asked.”
“Mom, I gotta go. I’ll call you later,” she said into the phone. She looked up again. “So how can I help you, detective?”
“I’m here to see Derek. But first I wanted to ask you a couple of questions, really just follow-up.”
“Okay.”
“You may know, we’ve got a handle on the man we think killed Mr. Pang,” I said. “Last Thursday, he killed himself.”
“I heard. My mother called in the afternoon to say she saw it on
“I’ll bet Derek was happy we found the guy.”
