“He doesn’t appear to. But I’m an expert at knowing what to look for.”
We hung out and talked while we waited for the tow truck to arrive, and for a few minutes I forgot all that had happened over the past year. I remembered how much I’d enjoyed just being with Mike, and wondered if we’d ever get over our problems. I still wasn’t sure of the future, but I felt better that he was starting to get his act together.
After the tow left, Mike drove me down to Waikiki. “Hey, did you forget?” I asked, as we passed Lili’uokalani Street. “That was my turn.”
“I wanted to check something out first,” he said. He cruised another couple of blocks down Kalakaua to the big A-frame church. He slowed down and peered out at the big sign out front. “Thought so,” he said. “I’m on time.”
As he turned I saw the sign myself. The AA meeting was about to start. “I can run you back home, if you want.”
“I can walk from here.” He nodded and pulled into a parking spot. “Maybe we’ll get together Monday, compare notes?” I asked, as I got out of the truck.
“It’s a date.”
MEMORIES OF A CASUAL ENCOUNTER
Sunday morning I slept late, made raspberry chocolate chip pancakes, and tried to recharge my batteries for the week ahead. Late in the afternoon, Aunt Mei-Mei called to give me Norma Ching’s address and phone number.
“She no happy,” Aunt Mei-Mei said. “Norma. I no talk to her myself, you know, not since very long time. But my friend say Norma mad about something.”
That was good, I thought. Angry people often made the best sources of information, because they had scores to settle.
“Thanks, Aunt Mei-Mei. You doing okay?”
“Ai ya, very busy. Jimmy and his friends come again tonight. Lot of food to cook!”
“You’re not running a restaurant there, Auntie. Don’t you let Jimmy take advantage of you.”
She laughed and her voice sounded like a young woman’s. “Jimmy nice boy.”
I called Ray and told him that I had an address for Norma Ching-but that my truck was in the shop. “I’ll drive Julie up to UH first thing tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll swing past your place, pick you up, and we’ll go see this woman.”
An hour later, I got a text message on my cell phone. Thinking it was from Mike, I bounded over to the phone. Instead, though, it was from a number I didn’t recognize. It read “Know u from house in Black Pt. Need ur help. Meet me?”
Alarm bells started to go off in my head. When I’d been at my lowest, emotionally, I’d met a man I only knew as Mr. Hu. He owned a house in Black Point, a very fancy neighborhood just outside Waikiki where I’d gone many times. He had arranged various sexual escapades for me, sometimes with him, but sometimes with other guys. If this guy had met me through Mr. Hu, was he trying to hold that over me? Or had he been on the same kind of desperate dive I’d been on, and gotten himself into deeper trouble?
I texted back, asking him who he was and what he wanted. He didn’t want to tell me, though, and for a minute I wondered if he was just being coy about a hookup. I didn’t want to mess around with a casual trick, though, because my head was so caught up in considering getting back together with Mike.
But after a couple of messages back and forth it seemed that he needed police help rather than a quick blow job, and I agreed to meet him at the Kope Bean at the Royal Hawaiian shopping center, which was only a few blocks from my apartment. He assured me that I’d recognize him.
I’d just gotten myself a raspberry mocha when a guy behind me said, “I’m glad you came.” I turned around and recognized him. He was a middle-aged guy, part Japanese and part haole, wearing expensive jeans and a silk aloha shirt. Oh, and a wedding ring.
We’d had sex once, though I couldn’t remember his name, if I’d ever known it. Just like the law student. How many nameless men had I slept with? The thought creeped me out. “Can we walk?” he asked.
“Sure.” I put a sleeve over my coffee cup and we went outside. The shopping center was busy with well- heeled tourists clustering under the palm trees, gazing in the windows of the fancy stores, and toting lots of shopping bags with marquee names.
The guy steered us toward the grounds of the hotel, where we could have privacy. “Do you remember me?” he asked.
“I do. But I’m in a different place now than I was. I’m not looking to hook up with anybody.”
“That’s not why I need to talk to you,” he said. “I know you’re a detective, and I might need help from the police. But if I tell you something in confidence, will you promise not to tell anyone else?”
I stopped him. “Look, it doesn’t work that way. If you need a cop, then I’ll do what I can to help you. But I can’t make any promises until I know what’s going on.”
There was a look of pure anguish on his face, which was eventually replaced with one of resignation. “I guess I don’t have much choice.”
We found a bench in the shade of a couple of palm trees and sat down. “Let’s start from the beginning,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”
“Brian.”
So, no last name. “And what’s up, Brian? I assume from that ring on your finger you’re married. Is some guy you slept with threatening to tell your wife?”
He nodded. “Not just that. My boss, too.”
“Blackmail? They ask you for money?”
He pulled an envelope out of his pocket, opened it, and handed me a sheet of paper. At the top of the page was a color picture of Brian, naked, with his legs up over his shoulders. A naked man was plowing his butt.
Below the picture were the words “There’s video, too. If you don’t want the world to see it, transfer $50,000 to this account.” Below it was an account number, at a Singapore bank.
My mind was running a mile a minute. From Brian’s dress and manner, I had the feeling he had the money- and whoever was blackmailing him knew that. I recognized the setting; it was the master bedroom at Mr. Hu’s mansion in Black Point. And the naked back? That was mine. I wasn’t sure Brian knew that, though.
I blew a big breath out through my lips. “When did you get this?”
“Friday morning. It was delivered to my office by messenger.”
“Have you had any other contact with whoever sent it?” He shook his head. “How about the police? You report this to anyone?”
Again he shook his head. “I couldn’t. But I recognized you, the time we got together, and I knew you were a cop. I was hoping I could trust you.”
“Did you think I got one of these, too?”
He looked at me strangely. “You think they would send a copy to the police?”
“Not the police. Me, personally.”
I could see his eyes widen as the wheels turned. “That’s you?” he asked.
“You didn’t know?”
He shrugged. “You weren’t the only guy Mr. Hu fixed me up with.”
I didn’t know what to do. It should have been a no-brainer. Take the guy into Vice, show them the note, have them decide how to proceed. But would anyone else recognize me? Would the whole squad, and then the whole department, know that I’d been caught on video, banging the shit out of a random middle-aged stranger?
I slumped back against the bench. “I need to think about this for a minute.” It took a while, but my brain finally engaged.
The first thing was to see if I could be easily recognized. I called Gunter, who was close at hand, enjoying a post-coital mimosa at the Rod and Reel Club with his latest overnight guest.
Assuming I wasn’t recognizable, I could present the evidence to Vice on Monday morning. Since I came out,
