Honolulu Blues Read online

  I tried the door, but someone had locked it. Guessing that the landlord likely owned the market too, I went inside to the counter to find out. There was a wee, ancient Chinese woman behind the counter.

  "Help you, lady?" the woman said.

  "Are you the owner?" I said.

  "Yes, owner," she said.

  "Do you own the flat above your market?"

  "What you say?"

  "The flat... the apartment above your shop. Do you own it?"

  "Yes, I own building. You rent?"

  "No, I'm looking for the man who lives there, in the apartment above this shop."

  The woman's English wasn't amazing. My Cantonese was nonexistent. We had difficulty communicating, but as we continued to chat we sussed it out.

  "Ah, man leave. Not live here anymore. He owe me. He did not pay this month."

  "When did he move house?" I said.

  "What?"

  "When did the man leave?"

  "He go two days ago. I find apartment empty. He did not clean."

  "Bugger," I said. "Sorry to hear that."

  "He no good. He drink all the time."

  "In his apartment?" I said.

  "Yes, in apartment, in bar, he drink all the time."

  "Which bar?” I said. "Near here?"

  "Why, you drink?"

  "No, I don't want a drink, I want to talk with the man."

  "You want bar?"

  "Yes, is it nearby?"

  "Bar is Dim Sum."

  "Where is Dim Sum?"

  "Go Maunakea. Go right. One block. Dim Sum."

  "Thank you," I said.

  "You rent apartment?"

  "No, I have a flat, thanks."

  The woman waved her hand about the shop. "You buy?"

  "Maybe later," I said. "I have to find the man."

  "Okay, find man. Come back. You buy."

  "Yep, sure. I will come back later, thank you."

  The woman turned away and sat down on a stool behind the counter. I took off for the Dim Sum pub in search of Mr. Clements. It seemed the bloke left destruction in his wake wherever he went. I hoped the Dim Sum was still standing. When I stepped out of the market, an Asian dude across the street caught my eye. He was wearing a black pullover shirt and black pants. I couldn't see his eyes for the pair of wraparound sunnies he was wearing, but I sensed he was watching me. He was leaning against the wall of the building across the street with his arms crossed, trying too hard to appear menacing. It seemed obvious he wanted me to know he was there. I turned and walked towards Maunakea. I didn't look back until I got there and turned the corner.

  The corner building had windows facing both Maunakea and Beretania. I could look through the two windows back down Beretania. The dude was still there, but he wasn't leaning against the wall any longer, and he had a mobile to his ear. I turned away and walked fast towards Dim Sum.

  When I arrived at the pub, it hadn’t opened yet. A sign on the door announced it opened at ten. It wasn’t yet nine. With time to kill, I wanted to use it to my advantage. I walked back to the Chinese Cultural Plaza. If he tailed me, I hoped to lose the thug from the market in the warren of shops and alleyways that surrounded the plaza. I kept an eye out for him, but he didn’t reappear. A little before ten I headed back to Dim Sum. When I arrived, the pub was open. I went inside.

  There was a young Hawaiian guy behind the bar. An older man and woman sat at a table near the back, sipping beer from glasses. The old gal was cackling nearly non-stop, like whatever the old guy was saying was the funniest thing she had ever heard. In the absence of any signs of affection they didn't really seem to be a couple, which made me think she was laughing at the guy's jokes because he was buying the beer. Neither of them paid me any attention. Other than the old couple and the barman, the place was empty. Not shocking, given the time of day.

  I walked to the bar. The barman looked up from the lemons and limes he was slicing. "What'll you have?" he said.

  "I'm looking for information," I said. I slid the photo Madison had given me across the bar. "I understand the guy in the photo frequents your pub. Have you seen him about?"

  The guy looked at the photo for about a half-second and then went back to cutting limes. "Never seen him in my life?"

  "Could be he doesn't come in during your shift," I said.

  "I work every shift," the barman said. "We rotate shifts here. I'm telling you, cousin, I've never seen the guy in here."

  "Doesn't sound right," I said, "based on what someone has told me."

  "Guess they told you wrong, cousin. You want anything or not? I've got work to do."

  "Maybe I'll have a beer," I said. "I'll hang out and talk to people who come in. Maybe someone has seen the guy."

  "You can buy a beer, but don't bother my paying customers or I'll ask you to leave, cousin."

  I looked at the taps to see what the pub served. "I'll have a Longboard draft, cousin," I said.

  The barman picked up a glass from a towel on the bar. After filling the glass from the tap, he set it on the bar and picked up the fiver I'd put there. The guy rang up the sale and dropped my change on the bar. Then he was back on to the lemons and limes.

  I decided to show my photo to the old couple, assuming they were regulars since they were drinking at ten in the morning. After picking up the glass, I turned but then stopped. The door had opened, and the guy in black from earlier walked in. He took off the sunnies and stood just inside the door letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. He looked at me, making sure I knew he was. I took my beer and walked over to a table and sat down. The man in black walked to the bar. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He leaned over and said something to the barman. The barman replied. They were almost whispering, and I wasn't able to hear the conversation. They both turned and looked at me. Things were feeling uncomfortable.

  The guy in black walked over. He had a lot of ink. Both arms were half sleeves. What looked like the tail of a dragon extended below his right shirt sleeve. I looked him in the eye when he stopped beside my table.

  "You've been asking questions about Clements," the man said. "He a friend of yours?"

  "No," I said. "But, I'm looking for Clements."

  "Why?"

  "Sorry, not sure why you think that is any of your business, mate."

  "Maybe you're a friend of his, and that's why you are looking for him."

  "We're not friends," I said.

  "Then why are you looking for him?"

  "I want to have a word to him?"

  "About what?"

  "You're annoying me, mate."

  "You're annoying me, you smug bitch."

  "Piss off, dickhead," I said.

  The guy laughed. He lifted his arms above his head as if stretching. That caused the hem of his shirt to rise, exposing a sliver of his belly. His belly wasn't what caught my eye, although the six-pack abs were impressive. What caught my eye was the semi-automatic tucked into his waistband. He dropped his arms and put his hands together on his stomach, the right hand over the left.

  "Let's take a walk and have a talk with my boss," he said.

  "Not even, ratbag," I said. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

  "That's where you're wrong, mouthy bitch," he said. His left palm slipped the shirt up, and his right hand enveloped the butt of the handgun. "Not asking, sister. I'm telling."

  It was clear there was no way I could get to the .38 in my ankle holster before he pulled the gun from his waistband and shot me in the head. Focusing on the guy in black I didn't even see the old guy moving toward us at first. Then my peripheral vision caught the movement. He had two empty glasses palmed in his left hand. On his way to the bar for refills, I reckoned. That seemed absurd, given what was happening between the Asian bloke and me.

  Just as he was drawing even with my table, the old guy's right fist flashed out and landed with a thud against the Asian dude's right temple, dropping him like a bad habit. He sprawled forward onto the floor, hitting it hard
with his face. That would leave a bruise, I reckoned. I peered over the edge of the table. The Asian dude was out cold.

  The old guy bent over him, grabbed his shirt, and rolled the Asian guy onto his left side. He pulled the gun out of the Asian man’s waistband. After removing the magazine he racked the slide and caught the chambered round in his hand when it ejected. He pulled the slide off the receiver and then dropped both pieces of the empty disassembled handgun on the floor beside the unconscious man in black. Then he looked at me.

  "Time to go, pretty lady," the old guy said.

  "Who the fuck are you?" I said.

  "Kevin," the guy said. He said it like that was supposed to mean something to me. "I'm a friend. Retired HPD. Now get your ass in gear and let's get out of here. This punk's not-so-nice pals will be here any minute. I saw him on his phone through the window before he came inside."

  I nodded and stood up. The woman who had been drinking with Kevin was already walking out the front door.

  "We're going out the back," Kevin said. I nodded again and followed him.

  As we passed the bar, the barman said, "Hey, you can't go back there."

  Kevin paused and looked the barman in the eye. "Fuck you, Billy. You gonna stop us? And if I hear about you running your head to the Triads, I'll come back and break your scrawny neck, asshole." With that, Kevin pushed through the swinging door that led to the back of the pub, and I followed. We passed between stacked cases of beer and liquor and then came to a back door. Kevin hit the crash bar and out we went into the alley.

  "Where's your bike?" Kevin said. "My contact told me you rode a crotch rocket."

  "Didn't ride it here," I said. "I took the bus."

  "That's okay, I'll give you a ride. My truck is parked around the corner."

  I followed him out the alley to the street. Kevin made for a beat up old yellow ute parked at the curb. "This is it, get your ass in," Kevin said.

  He already had the engine started by the time I settled into the passenger seat and closed the door. Kevin dropped the truck in gear, and we shot out into traffic.

  "I could have taken him," I said.

  "I'm sure you could have, T.J., but we were running short of time. Couldn't wait around for you to talk him to death."

  "How do you know who I am? We've not met."

  "Greg Yu told me your name," Kevin said. "He asked me to come to look for you this morning."

  "Greg sent you?"

  "Yes, I called to give him some intel I picked up on the street. Based on the intel, Greg figured you might not know what you were walking into this morning. I told him I'd come and find you."

  "What intel?"

  "That Bernie Clements has made like Elvis and left the building with your client's jewelry. But before he left, he stirred up a hornet's nest by screwing the Triads. They’re looking for him too. If they catch him, I figure they’ll cut him into tiny pieces before feeding him to the sharks. They’ll also keep him alive and conscious as long as they can while doing it."

  "For fuck's sake," I said.

  "You can say that again, sister. The Triads are bad people."

  "Triads? You mean the Chinese syndicate."

  "The same. They are out of Hong Kong. They are making their presence felt in Honolulu again after about a twelve-year hiatus."

  "How did you know I would be at the pub?"

  "I talked to the old Chinese lady at the market after you did. Sharp old broad. She also told me about the guy back at the bar, watching and following you."

  "What did you hit that guy with?" I said.

  "My fist," Kevin said. He smirked. "Despite my advanced age, I know how to punch, and I can still do it, thanks to the boxing I did during my youth."

  For a moment I went quiet, unable to decide whether to feel relieved Kevin had been there or to feel pissed that Greg Yu had sent someone to protect me.

  "Look, Greg warned me it would make you sore if I intervened in anything, but that guy had you dead to rights. You would have gone with him. You wouldn't have had any choice. They want to get their hands on Clements. They would have beat the hell out of you until they were sure you didn't know where he was. Then, if you were lucky, they would have cut you loose. If you were unlucky, they would have cut your throat and dropped your body in a dumpster somewhere."

  "I can take care of myself," I said. "I know what the fuck I'm doing."

  "You don't," Kevin said. "I mean, yeah, you might be able to run a competent investigation. But not here, not now. You haven't been on the island long enough. You know no one. No one will trust you. No one will tell you squat. Take Billy back at the bar. If you'd waved a thousand bucks in his face, he wouldn't have told you shit. The Triads scare Billy too much for him to risk indulging his greed even for easy money."

  "So, how did you find out about Clements?"

  "I was a cop for thirty years. A few of my old snitches are still around. They hear stuff on the street, and they still tell me about it. Like I was telling you. There is the difference between you and me. They know me, and they trust me. So they tell me things."

  "So where is Clements?"

  "Word is, he took off for Hong Kong," Kevin said.

  "What did he do to piss off the syndicate?"

  "He sold them your client's jewelry for twenty cents on the dollar. Great deal for them and he pocketed a little over a hundred grand. But, then it seems Clements lost his mind or something. Last night he burgled the shop owned by the fence that bought the jewelry, and he stole it all back. The fence belongs to the Triads, so Clements poked them in the eye with a sharp stick, and now they’re out for a little payback."

  "Why would he do that?"

  "Greed, I expect. Isn't that what causes most people to do dumbass things? Guess he plans to sell it all over again in Hong Kong to double his payday."

  "Where are we going?" I said.

  "Wherever you want. I'm just driving towards downtown. Let me know where to drop you at."

  "Kalakaua and Beach Walk would be awesome if it's not out of your way," I said. "My flat is nearby, and I can walk from there."

  "No problem," Kevin said. "It's right on my way."

  Neither of us spoke until Kevin rolled the ute to a stop at the curb at Kalakaua and Beach Walk.

  "Hey, I know I was a bit of a mad bitch before," I said. "I appreciate what you did for me. It's no excuse, but I'm not used to needing rescuing."

  "Forget it," Kevin said. "No offense taken."

  "And thank you for the ride," I said, as I opened the door and got out. I closed the door and said "Mahalo," then walked away.

  "Hey T.J., can I offer you some advice?" Kevin said.

  Stopping, I walked back to the truck and looked inside at Kevin. "Sure, why not?"

  "Lose that fucking ankle holster. It’ll get you killed. You need to carry your piece where you can get to it in a hurry."

  "How did you know about the ankle holster?"

  "The bulge. It was obvious when you were at the bar right after you walked in, I was a cop for thirty years for chrissakes."

  "I'll give it a think," I said.

  Kevin laughed. "You’d better do more than that. Get rid of it and wear whatever you have to for concealing your weapon somewhere you can draw it in a hurry."

  "Thanks, Kevin."

  Kevin smiled. "Don't mention it, sweetheart. See you around." With that, the truck lurched out in traffic rolling down Kalakaua. I started for home feeling relieved that Kevin had been around, but still feeling a little pissed about the whole bloody affair. I had stuffed it.

  6

  Madison Edwards had called and asked to meet me. She was waiting in the lobby of her hotel when I arrived. We walked together out the back doors to the beach. Kids were playing in the surf, and adults lying on straw beach mats you could buy from the ABC convenience stores were basking in the Honolulu sunshine. We walked along the beach toward Duke's Canoe Club.

  "Did you find him?" Madison said. No aloha, no small talk. She got to the
point straight away.

  "No," I said. "But I know a lot more about him than when I started."

  "Who is he?"

  "Well," I said. "Bernard's true name is Bernie Clements. The Honolulu police know him well. Bernie is a career jewelry thief. The parole authority released him from state prison recently. It seems the corrections system failed to reform him."

  "Good Lord," Madison said. "I was taken in by a common criminal."

  "To be fair, I'm certain you've not a lot of experience dealing with crims. It could have happened to any trusting soul."

  "I'm sure you mean any gullible, lonely fool like me, but you're too kind to say it."

  We had passed Duke's and were nearing the Royal Hawaiian Hotel before either of us spoke again.

  "Damn it," she said. "It doesn't matter who Bernard is or what he has done, I want my jewelry back and to get on with my life."

  We kept walking. If we walked long enough and far enough, maybe I would summon the courage to tell Madison the chances of getting her jewelry back were so small now, the possibility wasn't even worth considering. A group of teenagers was tossing frisbees back and forth with enthusiasm. When I was a teen, I much preferred swimming or surfing when visiting the beach.

  "So, he lied about everything. He set me up from the beginning?"

  "It may not make you feel any better, but there were others," I said. "The Honolulu cops believe he did the same to at least three other women."

  "You're right, that doesn't make me feel better. Only angrier. You find that son of a bitch. And, I want him arrested."

  "That will be a bit tricky."

  "How so? You said you could find him."

  "I said I could find him if he were still in Hawaii. I've learned that he has gone to Hong Kong."

  Madison stopped walking. She put her hands on her hips and stared up at me. "So, he sold my jewelry, and it's gone forever?"

  "He sold the jewelry," I said. "But, then it gets complicated."

  "Complicated?"

  "He fenced your jewelry to a member of an Asian criminal syndicate here in Honolulu. But then he stole it back in a burglary. It seems he took the jewelry with him when he left Honolulu and intends to sell it again in Hong Kong."