I’ve been the department’s go-to guy when gay men and lesbians are involved in crimes, usually as victims, though occasionally as perpetrators as well. I’d given a couple of talks about domestic violence in same-sex households, and I’d helped out a couple of prominent johns who’d been picked up in prostitution sweeps and didn’t want the world to know they’d been picking up guys, or guys dressed as women.
So it was reasonable that Brian could contact me, even if he didn’t know me personally, for help navigating his situation. If Gunter recognized my naked back and butt, though, and felt that the rest of the department might, too, I’d have to reconsider my story.
While we waited for Gunter to extricate himself from the bar, I said, “These guys don’t look like the most sophisticated blackmailers.” Brian looked interested.
“How can you tell?”
“Well, there’s no deadline. No ‘send us the money by Tuesday morning or else.’ And maybe they score a couple of points by delivering to your office-but there’s no guarantee you’ve seen this. It could be sitting on your secretary’s desk.”
“But if I don’t respond…”
“We’ll get to that. Plus, these aren’t anonymous photos. There’s a connection to Mr. Hu and to the place where the video they clipped this still from was taken.”
Brian didn’t look particularly reassured, and then I spotted Gunter. “I need to show my friend the picture.”
“He’ll recognize me,” Brian said.
“You slept with him, too?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want anyone to see that picture.”
“No way around it. But you can trust Gunter.” I waved him over, and pointedly didn’t introduce Brian. “Recognize the guy?” I asked.
He looked from the picture to Brian. “Is this a trick question?”
“Not him, dimwit. The other guy.”
“The top? Cute.” He peered at the picture, then shrugged. “You’d think with my wide experience of the homosexual population of Honolulu, I might, but I don’t.”
I gave out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, brah. That’s what I needed to know.”
“This the guy wanting the money?” he asked, pointing at my naked back.
I shook my head. “I get paid enough by the City and County of Honolulu,” I said. “I don’t need to extort money from tricks.”
Brian didn’t particularly like being called a trick. Gunter whistled. “That’s you?” He took a closer look at the picture. “You’ve got a mole on your left shoulder,” he said. He pointed to the picture. “It’s fuzzy, like they weren’t focusing on you. I suppose if you know what to look for you can see it.”
Gunter left a few minutes later and I laid out the plan for Brian. “I’m going to talk to the lieutenant in Vice tomorrow morning. I’ll show him the note and see what he wants to do. How can I reach you?”
“Will you have to give him my name?”
I nodded. “But they’ll be discreet. You’re the victim here.”
“But what about testifying? I’ll lose everything if this gets out.”
“Let’s work one step at a time, okay?” I put my hand on his shoulder. “I’ll do whatever I can to take care of you.”
Finally, he opened his wallet and pulled out a business card. “You have my cell number,” he said. “Text messages are best.”
His full name was Brian Izumigawa, and he was an executive vice president at one of the bigger banks in the islands. “Let me know if you hear anything more from these guys,” I said.
He was reluctant to leave, as if just staying around me would make his problems go away, but finally I reassured him enough. I wished I felt as good as I pretended; I was still worried that someone in the police department would recognize me, or that Lieutenant Kee in Vice would insist on knowing the identity of the guy with his back to the camera.
And if my name didn’t come out that way, would the investigation lead to Mr. Hu? Would he have a little black book of men? If he did, my name was sure to be there-perhaps with annotations as to my experience and tastes.
That was something I didn’t want in the police department rumor mill.
WHAT NORMA KNOWS
Ray showed up at my apartment at six thirty Monday morning, too early to spring a visit on Norma Ching. “I’ve got something to talk about downstairs in Vice,” I said as we drove. “While I’m down there, I’ll see if they know anything about this clinic, or about Norma.”
Ray didn’t ask about my other business with Vice, and I didn’t volunteer any details. I had to see how things worked out first, and how much involvement I would have in Brian Izumigawa’s case.
While Ray parked, I went down to the B1 level, the first of two levels below ground. The photo lab, narcotics, and the special investigations section, where they do research on evidence, are also down there. It’s my favorite part of the building, and I’m always willing to hang around the labs and talk to the techs.
Lieutenant Kee’s secretary, Juanita Lum, is a heavyset, no-nonsense Filipina, with lustrous black hair and skin so smooth she could do soap ads. From her wedding picture, which sat in a heart-shaped frame on her desk, you could see she’d been a real looker when she was younger.
“Hey, Kimo, howzit?” she asked.
“Pretty good, Juanita. The lieutenant have a minute?”
“He’s on the phone. And then he’s got a meeting. But let me see if he can squeeze you in.”
She kept an eye on the red light on Kee’s line while she chatted with me and kept on typing some kind of report. The multitasking made my head spin, but it was all in a day’s work for Juanita. When she saw the light go off, she buzzed the lieutenant. “I’m busy, woman,” I heard him say through the intercom.
“And next week you’ll want something from Homicide,” Juanita said. “You scratch Kimo’s back, he’ll scratch yours. And your back itches a lot.”
“Fine, send him in.”
In the four years or so that he’d been in charge of Vice, Kee had been perpetually grumpy. He had a long, sad face like a Bassett hound, and brush-cut black hair going gray at the sideburns.
“Thanks for giving me a minute,” I said, walking into his office. “You hear about the arson homicide up in St. Louis Heights last Sunday?”
“Shopping center up on Waialae Avenue?” he asked. “What about it?”
“That address ever come up in your investigations? There was an acupuncture clinic there that sounds pretty shady, and they closed down and moved out a couple of days before the fire.”
“I’ve heard the address,” he said. “But I’ve been short handed since the last round of budget cuts. I haven’t had a chance to get anybody up there.”
“You know the name Norma Ching?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
I paused, and Kee said, “That all?”
I took a deep breath. “Nope.” I told him about Brian Izumigawa, how he’d contacted me, making it sound like he recognized my name from the media. I showed Kee the note Brian had been sent. “You get this dusted for prints?” he asked.
“He was cagey about what was going on. I didn’t realize it might be evidence until he’d already given it to me and I’d put my prints all over it. I can still get it tested, though.”
“Do it.” He looked at me. “What do you make of this?”
Inside, I breathed a little sigh of relief. There was no reason why Kee should recognize my naked back, but I was still glad that he didn’t. I told him my theory that the blackmailers were amateurs, and explained about Brian’s connection to Mr. Hu and the mansion in Black Point.
