Hot Lava (7 page)

“Hardy har har,” I interrupted him. “I get your point. They also have a massive gift shop.”

His face noticeably brightened. “Maybe on the way back, then.”

We soon reached the town of Haleiwa, the surfing capital of the world, though similar looking to the ones that dotted the California coast, with its myriad tourist shops, quaint eateries, and unique galleries. (Which was great, because we were almost out of finely decorated conch shells). A pleasant breeze wafted through the open window, smelling of the ocean that lay just barely out of sight. We eagerly stared out, watching, waiting.

And then there it was, the Pacific, much different looking on this end of the island than on our own. The waves were massive, breaking in a torrent of white. The surfers in their black wetsuits rode high above or just within the waves, appearing and then disappearing as the water enveloped them. It was just like the surfer movies I’d seen on television, only real and breathtaking.

The limo pulled into a lot. We hopped out as Liko retrieved the items I’d ordered the night before: two blankets and a picnic basket for four. It felt strange leaving the driver behind, but stranger still to invite him to join us. What did Britney and Paris do? I wondered. Probably slept with their drivers. (Not an unpleasant thought, all things considered.)

We walked onto the beach, which was small, almost private, perhaps with fifty other spectators, most of whom were surfers. We set up shop off to the side, just below a wide tree that covered our pristine swath of sand. The sun was super strong, broiling at midday. Tanning was one thing, cooking was something else entirely. The shade was nicer, smarter, less wrinkle-inducing.

We spread the blankets out and arranged the food and iced beers, plus soda for the minor. Then we settled in. The surfers gave us a show as we chowed down. Athletes on the water, majestic as ballet dancers, agile as gymnasts. And so we sat there, staring, mesmerized, relaxed, at least for the time being.

“Well,” Koni said, midway through our meal. “What’s the plan?”

We did indeed have one but hadn’t filled him in just yet. After all, he was still in the dark about Will, who he thought was simply a friend of ours, albeit a helpful one with a purported (and then confirmed) big dick. We therefore thought it best to dish out information on an as-needed basis. “First, we’re going to see Lenny’s parents,” I told him. “Will managed to get us the address through, um, some contacts of his. Then we’re going to check out the place that Buck told us about.” We’d tell the local police afterward, and only if we found out anything. After all, the word of a street hustler wasn’t exactly golden, especially one such as Buck, and the cops might not be so willing to act on what he’d said.

“I think I’ve lost my appetite,” Koni lamented.

“Yeah,” I concurred. “It’s not going to be pleasant. But the police, from what we know, have already come and gone, and concluded that Lenny’s parents were oblivious to their son’s dealings.” Again we neglected to tell him that what we knew all came from Will.

“Suspected dealings,” Brandon corrected.

“Uh huh, exactly. In any case, if we find out anything, it can only help us,” I explained, and hoped I was right. We were, in fact, treading on shaky ground here. But, since Will had told us that the police were indeed through with Lenny’s parents, they were fair game for us. He, of course, being on the case now, could use any information we successfully gathered. And perhaps our not being police would enable us to find out something they had not. After all, the police hadn’t been on Lenny’s side up until this point, which his parents certainly were well aware of, thanks to all the press coverage.

I know, I know. The whole thing was iffy at best. We were sticking our noses in where they didn’t belong. But please remember, we each felt responsible for Lenny’s death. Had he not escaped, he’d still be alive, perhaps even found innocent by the police and then subsequently released. As things stood, the authorities weren’t convinced either way about his guilt or innocence. At least our snooping might shed some light on that, maybe even help to solve the case. We couldn’t, after all, bring Lenny back, but there still was a chance to clear his name. And with Will by our side, we were, we figured, safe. (Well, safer and, um, well-fucked. Yours truly, in any case.)

So we ate our meals, enjoyed the surroundings and the company, and tried, as hard as it was to do so, to push the near future to the back of our much-worried brains. When I looked over at Koni and noticed him grinning, I asked, “What’s the big smile for?”

“Wanna see something cool?” he replied, obviously brimming with excitement.

“Cooler than that?” I asked, pointing to the surfing spectacle.

He nodded and jumped up. The three of us followed, our feet digging into the hot sand as we plodded ahead. A small crowd had gathered off to the far right side of the beach. Obviously, this is where we were headed. A jolt of adrenaline pumped through me. What new display did this magical place hold in store for us? I could see through the throng that a large, greenish-gray lump lay sprawled out. “Is that what I think it is?” I asked as we approached.

“Yep,” Koni said. “Cool, huh?”

“A turtle?” Brandon asked, the four of us crowding around, though not too close, giving it ample breathing room.

“Honu,” Koni informed. “The green sea turtle. She came here to lay her eggs last night. See the marks where her back flippers pushed the sand behind her? She buried them, to keep them warm before they hatch. She laid about a hundred eggs; soon enough, she’ll swim back to sea and forget about them.” In an instant, he looked sad, dejected. “Some parents do that,” he added, the frown evident. “Give birth and then beat it, letting their children fend for themselves.”

I put my arm around him. “Thanks for showing us. It is cool. Way cool. And then when they’re hatched, they won’t be alone. They’ll have each other.”

He looked over at me and smiled. “We’re not talking about the honu any more, are we, Cute Dude?”

I grinned. “Too smart for your own good, kid,” I said.

“Gotta be, Cute Dude. Gotta be.”

***

We finished our meals, packed up, and left. Liko was waiting for us back at the limo. Will handed him Lenny’s parents’ address, which he looked at questioningly. “Residential neighborhood,” he informed us. “Nothing worth seeing out there. Ugly homes. No beach. No shopping. You sure you wouldn’t like the Dole Plantation better?”

“You’re right, we would like that better,” Will replied. “But this visit is more business than pleasure.”

Liko took the paper and didn’t say another word. We all then piled back inside the limo, my heart pumping madly in my chest. This was not, after all, the
business
I liked being in. No way, no how.

“What do we say to them once we get there?” Koni asked.

“Let me do the talking,” Will suggested, and we all readily agreed. (I, for one, was all in favor of staying in the limo. Or, better yet, being dropped off at the Dole gift store. Better still, a local bar. Heck, let the fucking honu bury me in the sand for all I cared.)

We pulled up to their home not fifteen minutes later. It was fairly ramshackle. A small patch of brown grass surrounded the place. A few chickens clucked and pecked off to the side, with a tiny vegetable garden sprouting from the rear. Lenny obviously came from meager beginnings. (And ignoble endings.)

We trudged up to the front door. Liko and the limo pulled out of sight, perhaps not wanting to frighten them too much. As if four complete strangers wouldn’t do exactly that. We caught our breaths and knocked. A short woman answered, fifty at most, and looking every day of it. Her graying hair lay piled atop her head, slightly disheveled. Her eyes were red-rimmed, chestnut brown, and tired looking.

“Can I help you?” she timidly asked.

Will, as planned, spoke up first. “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. We wanted to pay our respects. We were, um, well, we knew your son.” (Not a lie. As an agent, Will wouldn’t or couldn’t do that. In fact, his very being there and not identifying himself was a no-no. Then again, these people weren’t suspects, and we’d probably never see them again after today.)

Her face brightened for just an instant. “Friends of Lenny? How nice. Please, come in.”

We didn’t correct her, just followed her inside. The place was small but charming. “You have a beautiful home,” I complimented her, my voice slightly trembling, innards rumbling.

“Thank you,” she said, looking around, the smile again evident, if weak. “I’m afraid my husband isn’t here to say hello. He’s down at the store. Busy season. Can’t afford to close for a day. You understand.”

We did, and nodded. She offered us some iced tea, which we gladly accepted. My throat, by then, was dry and tight. “Lenny was born here?” Will asked.

“Born and raised. His only real home. His room is still in the back.” Her eyes watered just slightly, looking off into the distance. “He didn’t do it, you know. He was a good boy.” She was staring at a picture of him, high school graduation, not that many years prior. A good-looking kid.

“Honestly, ma’am,” Will said, “we don’t think so, either.”

She looked back at us, the smile returning in full force. “I know how this sounds, you know. A mother claiming her son’s innocence. But I knew my boy. He never did drugs. He came home often; I would’ve known. As for the smuggling, I spoke to him from the jail in Oakland; he swore he didn’t know anything about it.”

“He told us the same thing, ma’am. We believed him, too,” I said, and meant it.

She took a seat, as did we, filling up the small room with our presence. “And his, his boyfriend, ma’am, the one that’s gone missing?” It was an open-ended question, one we weren’t sure there’d be any answers to.

Strangely, the smile remained. “A nice boy,” she replied. “Don’t know why he ran away. Maybe he was scared they’d blame him, too.”

Brandon piped in, surprised as we all were. “You, you knew Lenny’s boyfriend?”

She nodded. “Only met him the one time. They were passing through on their way to the beach and stopped in for a bite. Handsome boy. A local.”

We looked at her uncertainly. “How long ago was that, Mrs. Hallanah?” Will asked.

“Oh, maybe a few weeks ago at most. Didn’t you know him, you being friends with Lenny?”

We all looked at each other, unsure of how to answer her. “No, ma’am,” Brandon finally said. “We only heard about him. Didn’t know he was a local, though. You mean Hawaiian, right?”

“Oh, yes. Hawaiian. Very handsome,” she replied, dumbfounding us.

“And his name?” Will asked, as nonchalantly as possible.

She looked at him, scratching her chin. “Oh,” she said, “I don’t rightly remember off the top of my head.” She paused and thought on it. “No, sorry. But it’s been a trying week. You understand.”

We nodded and stood. “Thank you for the iced tea and hospitality, ma’am,” Will said. “We were just passing through and wanted to pay our respects, as we said.”

Again she smiled, melting my heart. “No problem, boys. Any friends of Lenny are always welcome here.”

We smiled and started to leave, when Koni surprised us all. “Um, Mrs. Hallanah, would you mind if I asked you a personal question?”

She tilted her head, but the smile remained. “Sure, son, anything.”

He stopped, obviously thinking of how to phrase whatever it was that was on his mind. We all waited, staring at him. “Well, it’s, um, it’s just that I was wondering, a lot of Hawaiians, they’re, they’re very religious people.”

She cut him short. “You want to know if I was okay with him being gay? If I was okay that he had a boyfriend and that he brought him around?” Koni merely nodded, clearly stunned at her being so open about it. “We loved our son, young man. It was who he was. It was what he’d always been. If he was happy, we were happy.”

“That’s... that’s the way it should be,” he said, obviously trying hard not to choke up. “Thanks.”

Again she surprised us by walking over and hugging him. Koni hugged her back, hard and with feeling. We turned, giving them a moment. And then we left, waving at her as she hollered, “Come back any time, boys. Any time.”

We walked down the cracked sidewalk, spotting the limo at the end of the street. It was Brandon who broke the silence. “Your parents, Koni, they weren’t like that, huh?”

Our young friend hung his head low and didn’t immediately reply. “No,” he eventually said, ten feet from the limo. “They kicked me out, never wanted to see me again.”

My heart broke yet again. My parents were more like Lenny’s. Brandon’s the same. I never even knew parents could be so cold, so unforgiving. We got back into the limo, the silence nearly deafening.

“Well,” I said as the limo pulled off.

“Yeah, well,” Brandon echoed. “What do we make of that?”

“You mean that Lenny brought a boyfriend home recently who couldn’t have been Jed, Jed being white and all?” Will asked.

Koni joined in, happy to be off the topic of himself. “Plenty of guys have more than one boyfriend.”

“But the press is only reporting on the one that disappeared, namely Jed. Who is this second one?” I asked. “Will, have you heard if the police are looking for anyone else?” Which I quickly amended with, “On the news, I mean.”

He shook his head. “I was as surprised as you guys. Guess we have to find both of them now. Would’ve helped if Mrs. Hallanah had remembered a name.” He then turned on the speaker and gave Liko the second address. The limo came to a surprisingly screeching halt.

“You sure about that?” our driver asked. “Bad neighborhood. Probably not a good idea to visit.”

We all looked at each other, trepidation evident in all our faces. “If you could just drive by, we won’t be going in,” Will told him. The limo sat idling. Liko didn’t reply. “Just for a couple of minutes,” Will added, “then we can go to the Dole Plantation.”

The limo revved up and pulled away. Turned out the address Buck had given us was barely twenty minutes away, down badly paved roads lined with houses that made Lenny’s look like a mansion. Heartbreaking.

Our destination was the last house on the block, fenced in, security cameras mounted on two posts. Strange, we thought. What could be worth stealing out here? Then again, if it was Jed’s hideout, the cameras weren’t to catch people breaking in, they were to monitor anyone snooping. Like us. Needless to say, we didn’t stop. Not along that block, anyway.