CHAPTER 41

By the end of the month, the bulge in the back of my neck had gotten to be too much. With Turi’s trial less than a week away and an October surprise looming in the governor’s race, my body was beginning to break down. So I finally broke down and made an appointment with Scott’s massage therapist.

On the last day of September, I drove my Jeep into Chinatown and parked in a garage. The big, hard sun felt good on my face, especially since I’d spent the last few days holed up in my office preparing for Turi’s trial. The only two people who apparently spent more time inside than I did were Lok Sun and Gavin Dengler. Both the hotel and brothel were being watched around the clock. Lok Sun had his men and Gavin Dengler had his women run errands. But neither man could be found leaving his residence and walking the streets.

I double-checked the address before I stepped into the massage parlor. An older Asian woman greeted me as though I were a regular customer. She came around from the counter and immediately took my suit jacket. The waiting room was so small there was barely enough room to turn around.

“You here to see Lian, yes?” the woman said.

“Yes, I have an appointment.”

“Good, good. You like. She take care of all your stress.”

“Is it that noticeable?” I said, forcing a smile.

She smiled back but didn’t reply, and it struck me that her English vocabulary was probably limited to those words she used every day.

A few minutes later a beautiful, young Chinese woman appeared in the doorway, dressed in a long, black silk robe. “You come.”

I followed her into another small room with a narrow massage table sitting in the center.

She handed me a white towel. “You undress. I be right back.”

I undressed and wrapped the towel around my waist, then lay on my stomach on the table. The lighting was dim, and a few moments later a soothing melody permeated the room. I tried to relax. I lay there for a few minutes, my eyes closed, my shoulders feeling a little less tense already.

Thank you, Scott. I wasn’t a massage man. I’d never had one before, at least not professionally. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I was already relaxed by the experience.

Lian reentered the room and I kept my face buried in my arms on the table. She got right into it, working the muscles between my neck and shoulders. Slowly, using oils, she worked her way down my spine.

“Your muscles very tight. You carry your worries in your neck.” Her voice sounded vaguely familiar.

As she worked, thoughts of Turi’s trial tried to trespass, but I pushed them back. In my mind I muted the governor’s voice as he attempted to concern me about the polls and John Biel’s October surprise. I didn’t need to decide just now whether I’d move from Hawaii following the verdict. All I had to concentrate on for the next hour was relaxation.

After about twenty minutes Lian instructed me to turn over. Holding the towel tight above my middle, I did. Before I could open my eyes, she placed a warm, wet towel over them.

Lian worked on my chest, then moved onto my arms, gently massaging my biceps. Her hands ran over my heart as though she wanted to make certain it was still beating. She stopped at my abs. “How you get this terrible scar?”

“You’ll have to read the book.”

Wordlessly, Lian continued, moving her hands back up my chest then down over my stomach until her long, lithe fingers reached the towel. Then, slowly yet suddenly and without warning, one hand dipped inside the towel.

Wait a minute, I thought as the blood rushed to my groin and I swelled.

My heart pounded and the pain instantly returned to my neck. This was not what I ordered.

When she turned to gather more oils, I lifted the towel from my eyes and looked over at her, only to find that she’d disrobed as well. Down the length of her back, from her shoulders down to her perfect round ass, was a familiar image: a rare bird escaping from its cage. Lian was the girl from Tam’s bar.

“Lian…,” I said.

She turned, exposing small pert breasts and a neatly trimmed—

Suddenly the door burst open.

“Police!” a man shouted, raising his gun. “Hands in the air.”

My jaw dropped, my heart tried to beat its way out of my chest. As I rose off the table, my towel dropped to the floor. It didn’t matter. Seconds later my naked body was hurled to the floor right next to it. My face was held down against the dirty linoleum as an officer planted a knee in my back and slapped on cuffs.

“You’re under arrest for solicitation of prostitution. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

As I listened to him read me my Miranda rights, I realized exactly what was happening. My realization would be confirmed the moment they dragged me through the front door onto the street, where the photographers would be waiting. The police were undermining me and, by extension, any message I might have for Turi Ahina’s jury. Look at Kevin Corvelli, they were saying. A criminal just like his clients.

To add insult to injury they refused to allow me my clothes. They covered me with nothing but Lian’s sheer robe, then shoved me in my sore back until we reached the front door.

When the door opened, the big, hard sun hit me in the face again, accompanied this time by microphones and cameras. Every reporter on Oahu had apparently been tipped off.

The reporters hurled unintelligible questions at me as the police led me slowly toward the waiting prowl car.

“Looks like you’re famous again, Counselor,” one bastard cop whispered in my ear as another opened the car’s rear door.

Enjoy it now, I thought as they shoved me inside, because next week, I’m taking this whole fucking city down, starting with the police department.