Diamond Head Read Free Page B

“What name is on the file?”
    â€œThe victim’s name is MacGruder. First name Mary. A young female. She was killed and left near Waianae about three months ago. I don’t know anything else about the case. I was hoping the file would enlighten me.”
    â€œTake more than police file to enlighten you.”
    I had been dismissed.
    â€œThank you, Uncle.” I got up to leave.
    â€œJohn Caine!”
    I turned. The old man was sitting as still as a statue.
    â€œStay awake tonight. Mebbe somebody will come to your boat with a package.”
    â€œI’ll be awake.”
    â€œAnd you be here tomorrow night with the money.”
    â€œI will, Uncle. Midnight. I’ll bring the money.”
    â€œCash!” said Chawlie, the trace of a smile dancing across his lips. “No checks!”
    â€œCash,” I repeated.
    â€œAnd don’t let anyone kill you before you pay!”

 
    Â 
    3
    D awn was still an hour away when a subtle shift in Duchess’ s motion woke me from a dreamless slumber. My visitor was awkward and clumsy, and from the sound of the hard soles scuffing my teak deck, a stranger to a marine environment. I opened the hatch and invited the intruder in.
    My visitor carefully climbed down the ladder, putting both feet on each step before attempting the next one. That was about all she could do in a skintight silk dress and four-inch spike heels. As she descended, it was obvious her dress contained a spectacular body.
    â€œYou are Mr. Caine?” She had a face to match her body and a voice to melt butter. This was a real dragon-lady-bitch-goddess.
    â€œI am.”
    â€œThis for you.” The tiny goddess handed me twelve inches of photocopied pages. Chawlie had been as good as his word.
    â€œThank you. Chawlie sent you?”
    She answered the question by alighting on the lounge settee and adjusting her stockings. They were honest-to-God stockings, not panty hose—I could see smooth flesh. She was exquisite in dress and feature, a rich man’s toy, and the business with the stockings had been an intentional act. Not an invitation,
just a demonstration: I am unattainable for one such as you. But I can show you what you are missing. Slouched against the bulkhead in cutoff sweatshirt and shorts, I felt like a peasant. When she stood and reached her full height I noted that the top of her head barely reached the middle of my chest. God knows what she’d been told about me, but she’d been expecting rape or worse.
    â€œUncle say to be careful until tomorrow night. He will be waiting for you. I go now.” English was not her native tongue. I wondered if Chawlie had smuggled her into the country for his private consumption or if she was a prime choice from a regular load. I decided she must have been handpicked for the old man from the beginning; she was too perfect.
    I extended my hand to assist her as she addressed each step of the ladder and I followed her up on deck to make sure she made it safely to the dock without falling overboard. When her spike heels touched the relatively stable surface of the dock she took off like a rocket. I watched her until she disappeared beyond the darkened restaurant, the sound of her hard little heels tapping a staccato beat against the concrete. I heard a car door shut and saw the profile of a large, dark sedan leave the parking lot.
    One of Chawlie’s women. She would be heading back to his bed, escorted by a keeper or two. She would report, and would be rewarded for her courage in entering the haole’s lair.
    It’s a tossup who’s more racist, the Japanese or the Chinese. Either one makes the KKK seem as innocuous as Barney. My vote is for the Chinese. They view themselves as the only human race. The Mandarin word for the Chinese people is han, meaning “human beings.” No one else qualifies. And yet they have been discriminated against throughout the rest of the world. Most people do