I took a deep breath. “There isn’t much more to say. I didn’t know who Brian Izumigawa was, and I didn’t know we were being filmed.”
“You cannot tell anyone else that’s you in the picture, Kimo.” He looked back at the street ahead of him. “You do, and they pull you off the case, and your name goes down the drain. I’ve seen that happen. You’re too good a cop to lose that way.”
“Thanks.” I felt a little better, knowing Ray was on my side. “But I have to say, I don’t know what to do.”
Ray looked out at the street, then turned back into traffic. “Right now, we go see Norma. If she worked for your Mr. Hu, maybe she can help us find him. Then we get both cases wrapped up fast.”
Norma Ching lived in a run-down high-rise just off Hotel Street, which had once been the center of Honolulu’s red light district. I’d heard stories about the brothels there during the second world war, when there were nearly 150 of them within a few blocks, servicing the servicemen.
Now, though, it’s just another neighborhood. A lei stall was already open across the street, the beautiful colors and pungent scents a dramatic contrast to the shuttered storefronts around it. The only other business open was a Chinese grocery, and as we passed I looked in the window and saw a familiar face.
“Hey, Melvin, how you doing?” I asked, walking inside to the aroma of barbecued pork and roast duck. The shelves were lined with canisters of salty dried plums and apricots, tapioca pearls, and shrink-wrapped mushrooms. Chinese characters decorated bottles of vinegar and soy sauce. A couple of dusty red paper lanterns hung from the ceiling.
“Detective.”
Melvin Ah Wong was Jimmy’s father, if you could still call him that. He’d kicked the boy out at sixteen, when he discovered his son was gay. I introduced him to Ray, then said, “You seen your son lately?”
“My son is dead.”
“Your son is very much alive, Melvin. He’s at UH now, you know that? Looks happy, got lots of friends. You’d be proud of him.”
“My son is dead, detective,” Melvin said, and he walked past us.
“I always admire your people skills,” Ray said, as he paid the shopkeeper for a package of salty dried plums.
“The guy’s lucky I don’t knock him out,” I grumbled.
We walked over to Norma’s building and took the elevator up to the tenth floor. We knocked on the door of 10-F and a moment later Norma opened it.
I wasn’t sure I’d have recognized her on the street. Her white hair was wild and uncombed, and she wore a black cotton dressing gown hastily tied. I introduced myself and Ray.
“I’m not dressed for gentlemen callers,” she said, smiling coyly. She was missing her front teeth and her smile reminded me of a Halloween pumpkin.
There was just a trace of a Chinese accent. She smiled flirtatiously at Ray. “Will you come in and give me a few minutes to fix myself up?”
We sat in her black lacquer living room, and all the hothouse plants reminded me of Uncle Chin’s lanai, where he had spent much of his last years surrounded by flowers and birds. A glass etagere along one wall was cluttered with dragon figurines, bonsai trees, and a pile of round coins with a square cut out of the center-I Ching charms. A rice paper scroll hung on the wall with a bunch of characters signifying good fortune. I recognized love, peace, and harmony, among others. Through the doorway into the kitchen I saw a Buddha kitchen god and a Chinese calendar.
Ten minutes passed, and when Norma reappeared from the bedroom she was a different person. She’d put her teeth in, and donned an elegantly coiffed white wig. There was red powder on her cheeks, and she wore a smart black business suit with a white blouse, open at the neck.
“Now, how can I help you, detectives?” she asked.
“We wanted to ask you about the Golden Needles Acupuncture Clinic,” I said. “You know it burned last week?”
She nodded. “We had already closed a few days before the fire.”
“Why did you close?” I asked. “Not enough people needing acupuncture?”
She laughed. “Oh, detective. We didn’t do acupuncture there, despite the sign out front. Since I am no longer employed there I feel free to tell you that personal services were provided to discreet gentlemen.”
“Prostitution,” Ray said. He and I looked at each other. So we’d been on the wrong track; it wasn’t gambling that the other tenants had been hinting about.
“What an awful word. So unsavory, isn’t it? Not that I participated myself, you understand. I am a little past my prime.”
“Why did you close?”
“It was a business decision made by my ex-employer.”
“Mr. Hu?” I asked.
Norma looked surprised. “Yes, that is the name I knew him by. But I doubt that is the name he was born with.”
“You and I first met about two years ago, isn’t that right?” I asked. “You were working at a lingerie shop. Just a few blocks from here, wasn’t it?”
She nodded.
“That building burned, too,” I said. “Interesting, isn’t it? You worked at two places that both burned under suspicious circumstances.”
“I had nothing to do with either fire.”
I pulled out Mike’s list of suspicious fires. “A massage parlor in Waikele, a quick mart in Kaneohe, a coffee shop near the airport, and a Christian religious shop downtown. All of them burned. If I check your employment records, will I find that you worked at any of those places?”
Norma sat up very straight. “You can accuse me all you want, detective. But I am an innocent woman.”
“I know that you know something, Norma,” I said. “And I want to know what it is. What happened after Tommy Pang died? Who took over the lingerie shop?”
I saw Norma consider her options for a minute. I knew from Aunt Mei-Mei that Norma was angry; I figured if I just asked the right questions, she’d open up.
“For a long time, I didn’t know who the new owner was,” she said, having made her decision. “Everything went along. Then Mr. Hu called one day. He informed me that we were closing down, and that I should move everything to Waikele.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not following,” Ray said. “This lingerie shop-did you provide the same kind of services there that you did at the acupuncture clinic?”
Norma looked at Ray the way a teacher might smile at a prized pupil. “You are following everything just fine, detective.”
“Did Mr. Hu give you any reason for the move?” I asked.
“He said something about his arrangements with the police changing,” Norma said. “I resisted, because I didn’t want to go all the way to Waikele. I am an old woman, you know, and I do not drive. It was very inconvenient for me.”
“And what did Mr. Hu say?”
“He told me that I was welcome to stay in the shop, if I wished. But it might get very warm for me.”
“So you found your way to Waikele,” I said.
“A car and driver is expensive,” Norma said. “But better than the alternative.”
“Why did the massage parlor close?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I am just an old woman. I do what I am told.”
“From Waikele, you went to St. Louis Heights?” I asked.
“That is true.”
“Did you know why the acupuncture clinic closed?” Ray asked.
“Mr. Hu did not say. But I had my suspicions.”
“What were they?” I asked.
“A young boy,” she said. “One of our employees. He ran away, and Mr. Hu was afraid he would compromise our operation.”
“Jingtao?”
Norma looked surprised. “So he did go to the police.”
I shook my head. “He was hiding at the far end of the center, in the back of the beauty salon. He never spoke to the police. He was killed in the fire.”
Norma looked sad. “He was a beautiful boy. Very much in demand. But very unhappy inside.”
“You have a new location?” Ray asked.
“As I told you earlier, I have been informed that my services are no longer needed.”
“How can we get in touch with Mr. Hu?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I do not know. The number I had for him has been disconnected.” But she smiled slyly. “But I know someone who might be able to help you. Her name is Treasure Chen.”