When Lenny returned, he was carrying a sheaf of papers. The first page was on the district attorney’s office letterhead. Ray and I both read it.
“This is Richard’s list of everything in the private member directory,” Lenny said, when we looked up. “It tells you who’s who in the pictures.”
I scanned the list. Lucas’s name figured in many of the pictures, though there were different guys with him. I recognized some of the names-Brian Izumigawa, a dean at UH, and a member of the Honolulu City Council, among others.
“You know anything about blackmail?” I asked Lenny.
He shook his head. “If Richard’s blackmailing anybody, he never told me.”
“But you had to know something was up with all these pictures,” Ray said.
“Richard said the guys got a thrill from seeing themselves online. Like you, Kimo, you can’t see their faces. But they know it’s them.”
“Are there pictures where you can see their faces?” I asked.
“If there are, Richard never gave them to me.”
“Where does Richard live?” I asked. “In that house in Black Point?”
“As far as I know. He also has an office in St. Louis Heights, and an apartment in Kaka’ako. Some of the pictures were taken there.”
They were all addresses we knew. We quizzed Lenny for a while longer, but it was clear we’d gotten all we could out of him.
ENCOUNTERS OF THE SEXUAL KIND
We took the sheaf of papers back to the station, where we split the list in two and started investigating the names. As it got close to four o’clock, we tabled the research and get back to the offices of Mahalo Manpower. Ray wanted to show off his new ride, so we got into the Highlander and I kicked the seat as far back as it would go. “Any perps we pick up are going to have a field day in this mom-mobile,” I said. “Even got the video thing back there to keep them occupied. Got any cartoons on DVD?”
“As long as it’s clear I’m the dad and you’re the mom.”
“Hey there. I’m not into role-playing.”
“Too much information.”
“Just saying, is all.” Between construction on the H1 and a fender bender blocking one lane on North King Street, it took us longer than expected to get into position. I was pleased to see the black Mercedes still in the parking lot.
It was a ragged, industrial neighborhood, a lot of buildings with roll-down garage doors and little landscaping. Ray parked across from a convenience store and we sat back to wait. We didn’t have to wait long; Stan LoCicero came out about fifteen minutes later, got in the car, and drove off.
“Game on,” Ray said.
Stan followed North King to North Beretania and headed toward Waikiki. It was easy to keep him in sight in the rush-hour traffic, which was moving about as fast as a green sea turtle crawling on shore to lay her eggs.
When he turned onto Kalakaua, I said, “I’ll bet I know where he’s going. Drop me by the Rod and Reel Club. If he goes somewhere else, call me.”
Fred, the handsome, brainless bartender who normally worked the late shift, was behind the bar, and I flirted with him for a few minutes, my cell phone on vibrate in my pocket. The sound system was playing some old hapa-haole music for the tourist crowd, including an elderly man in an aloha shirt in a pattern of heart-shaped red anthurium flowers, and his wife, who wore a muumuu in matching fabric. Tiny fairy lights twinkled in the trees that lined the outdoor patio, and the occasional leaf fell from the trees above to the stone pavers.
“Hello, detective,” a voice said over my shoulder. “Can I buy you a drink?”
I turned to smile at Stan, holding up my Mehana Volcano Red Ale. “I’ve got one now, but maybe later. Who knows what the evening holds?”
“Who knows indeed,” Stan said, taking the stool next to me. His left leg slid next to my right one as he did.
“What brings you here this evening?” I asked.
“I was hoping to run into your friend Gunter. He called out sick today. Wanted to see if that was true.” He shrugged. “Guess it must be so.”
Good thing I had told Gunter to lay low. I’d have to call him and let him know Stan was on the prowl.
“You’re quite the public figure,” Stan said, taking a swig of the Longboard Lager Fred brought for him. “How is it for you, among your fellow officers? They accept you?”
“It’s been a tough road. But you know, cops are people just like everybody else. Some are okay, some aren’t.”
“Still, you must need to keep your nose clean. Can’t get into any scandal.”
I looked at him innocently. “What do you mean?”
The elderly man in the anthurium shirt got up to do a little hula dance, and his wife laughed and filmed him for the folks back home with a tiny hand-held camera.
“Let’s say somebody had some intimate knowledge of you,” Stan said. “And he was to go public. Might damage your reputation.”
“Depends,” I said, my blood pressure beginning to rise. “I’m your basic law-abiding citizen. Sex between men isn’t illegal in Hawai’i.” The first sodomy law had been enacted in 1850, though the last case had been prosecuted in 1958, and subsequent revisions to the criminal code had all but removed the penalties.
“It is when money’s involved.”
Stan look a long drink from his beer and I looked at him. I had a feeling I knew where he was going.
“I’ve never had to pay.”
“But what if someone paid on your behalf?” he asked. “And what if there was videotaped evidence?”
A tour bus pulled up outside and honked its horn, and most of the sunburnt haoles in the bar got up to leave. I didn’t think they had any idea that the Rod and Reel Club, a kitschy destination by day, turned into a steamy gay club after dark. When they’d all left, I turned to Stan. “If you’re talking about Lucas, I have some bad news for you. First, he’s dead. And second, before he died he told the Vice department what had gone on. So there’s nothing there that could hurt me.”
Stan’s body language stiffened, and I could see a shadow of the temper that Gunter had seen when Stan hit the Filipino maintenance man. He was a guy who didn’t like to be crossed.
“There’s a difference between being told something, and seeing it in living color,” he said. “I don’t know that’s a difference you’d be able to withstand.”
The adrenaline was flowing, and I had to resist the impulse to punch Stan in his jowly red face. But showing him that I wasn’t afraid wasn’t necessarily the best course of action. I had to understand him before I acted. Why was he threatening me? Did he know that we were closing in on him? Or was I just the latest target of his blackmail ring?
“Suppose I was nervous,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Suppose I wanted to make sure that whatever evidence there was never came to light. What would I do?”
“For now, sit tight.” Then, leaning close to my ear, he said, “That is, if your ass has recovered from the battering it got from Lucas.”
Fred came by to see if we wanted another round. “Maybe something with a fruity little umbrella?” he asked. Both of us declined.
Once Fred left, Stan said, “That’s a very sexy video, detective. I’ve watched it quite a few times myself and I always find it entertaining. You’ve missed a promising career in porn.”
“I’ll stick to police work.”
Stan drained the last of his beer. “Then I’ll be in touch.” He dropped a twenty on the bar for Fred and walked out.
I called Ray to let him know that Stan was on the move. “He parked at the garage on Seaside Avenue,” Ray said. “I’ll wait for you by the side entrance.”
I paid Fred, declined his offer of a quick step into one of the private rooms in the back of the building, and walked over to the garage. As I got into the Highlander, Ray said, “Stan just took off. Heading out toward Diamond Head.”
“Maybe he’s going home now.”
I called Gunter and let him know that Stan had been checking out the bar. “I’m being good. Well, maybe not good, but I’m staying home.” In the background I heard another man’s voice, and Gunter laughed. “Gotta go, brah. Thanks for the warning.”