CHAPTER 28

I didn’t mention the DVD when I arrived at the office the next day. On my way to Honolulu, I had stopped at the Kapolei branch of the Bank of Hawaii, where I kept a safety-deposit box for just such things. For evidence I didn’t yet know what to do with.

Flan caught me as soon as I walked through reception. “I spoke with Meredith Yancy this morning.”

I listened but the fog in my head wasn’t yet ready to lift.

“She corroborated Guffman’s story, said they were together at her apartment in Waipahu the entire night of the shooting. But get this—she opened the door carrying a keiki. Her fifteen-month-old grandson, Kyle.”

“Keiki on board,” I said.

“Exactly. Her daughter and son-in-law are both military, living in Mililani. I asked her if she and Max got to spend a lot of time with her grandson, and she said, ‘Oh, yes. Max and I always take him to the beach.’ Then I asked her if she had a car, and she got real quiet. She said no, she doesn’t have a driver’s license. I checked with the county and she was telling the truth.”

“So Max is the one taking her and Kyle to the beach.”

Flan nodded. “In his Honda Civic, I think. After I saw Meredith Yancy this morning, I drove back to Pearl City and broke into Guffman’s garage again. And guess what I found in one of the boxes?”

“What?”

Flan reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of plastic meant to look like metal.

I took it from him and studied it. “A Jesus fish.”

*   *   *

A few minutes later the conference room door opened and Jake stepped out, leading an old man by the wrist. I took a good look at him. The old man closely resembled Flan, but appeared every bit as dead as Oksana Sutin did in the video I endured last night. I shivered again just thinking about it.

“Kevin,” Flan said, “I’d like you to meet my dad, Miles Flanagan.”

“A pleasure,” I said.

Miles stuck out his hand, and I hesitated.

“Don’t worry, lad,” he said. “Natural causes ain’t contagious.”

I took his hand, and it felt like loose bones in a Ziploc bag. “How was your flight?”

“I would’ve been more comfortable traveling in a coffin.”

“Ah, you flew coach.”

“Damn right I did. How’s an old man like me gonna fly first-class? I got two daughters who ran out on me and a wife who went and died on me. All I have left is my son, Ryan, here, and he’s a victim of the devil herself.”

I nodded, smiled a little. “Victoria.”

“Oh, don’t get me started on that cunt, lad. Ryan here married her ’cause he had his head up his ass. Thought he’d won himself a fucking trophy.” Miles shook his head from side to side, exercising the flesh on his throat. “Marry ugly I always say. I did.”

Flan frowned. “Dad!”

“No, it’s the truth, Ryan, and you damn well know it. Your mother, she was a saint, but she broke more mirrors than Hurricane Katrina.”

I kept myself from laughing.

Miles continued, “But at least she treated me right. Forty-four years and never once a word about divorce. Never once threatened to take away my kids.” He turned to Ryan. “But yours, that Victoria. She may have had the tits and ass of a Greek goddess, but she was every bit as evil and mean as Hades himself. And if I had the strength back in New Orleans, I’d have put her in the ground and buried her so deep that even fucking BP couldn’t have found her.”

I didn’t know what to say.

Fortunately Jake stepped in. “Well, it was a tremendous pleasure meeting with you, Mr. Flanagan. Your son promised to take me over to Nanakuli to visit you once you get settled in.”

“It’s a fucking death house, that place,” Miles said.

“Yes, well,” Jake said, “we’ll all be heading there someday.” He looked from Flan to me and smiled. “Some of us sooner than others.”