Despite the hapless drunks’ efforts, Storm walked away lost in thought. Since picking up Stella six hours ago, she’d come across so much information she wanted to make an outline just to sort through it. To think that a day ago, she’d told herself to let the police handle Hiroki Yoshinaka’s suicide and his connection to Paradise Consortium. Now she was up to her ears in the mess, mostly because of Carmen and Keiko.
Despite her non-committal response when Stella asked her to be Keiko’s lawyer, Storm couldn’t turn her back on Keiko after what she’d been through, let alone Carmen, who was not only too young to understand what danger she was in, she was too injured to resist.
In addition to what she’d just learned, the hotel break-in had Storm worried. The guy not only had connections, he was a master of stealth. The fact that he’d been right next to her was downright creepy.
She was certain the thieves wanted information stored on her computer. Thing was, she wasn’t certain whether they wanted to know what she’d discovered, or whether they wanted to deprive her of the records. Or both. Whatever it was, it was tied into the twisted knot that began with a bomb-related death and included Keiko, Carmen and her family, Stella, Lara, the Tagamas, and the dive shop. It was all connected.
Add the theft to the warnings she’d received from a savvy techno-geek and an Assistant U.S. Attorney, who were both reacting to questions she’d asked after the break-in. No, she was swimming in it. She just hoped she wasn’t over her head.
Storm dropped onto the barstool next to Damon. He shoved a beer and a shot at her. “This is what I’m having,” he said.
Getting hammered on boilermakers wasn’t on tonight’s agenda. It might make her forget her troubles, but she couldn’t afford that. She gave him a sidelong glance. “What round is this?”
“Only the second. Hey, it’s Saturday night,” he said, and downed his shot, probably Jameson’s or Wild Turkey.
“Why don’t you slow down? It’s still early.” She wanted him to be coherent for a while longer.
“Early, that’s what I was thinking. The night is young.” He faced her with a big grin.
Storm was glad the hostess appeared to show them to their seats for dinner.
“Does this have to be all business?” Damon asked. He’d shaved; there was a dab of foam inside his ear.
“Business over a nice dinner,” Storm said. “Say, speaking of dinners, Lara told me she’s thinking of buying a restaurant.”
“She did?”
“Why do you say that?”
“She said not to tell anyone until she’d signed the papers.” Relief lightened Damon’s face. “Oh, she wants you to handle the legal aspects.”
Storm shrugged as if she couldn’t betray Lara’s confidence. “What do you think of the plan?”
“I dunno, seems like she’s pretty busy with the dive shop.”
“Have you done some other work for her?”
“I’m helping her with a remodel…” He stopped. “But you probably know all that.”
“She mentioned it,” Storm lied. “How’s it going?”
He appraised her, not so drunk after all. “I’ll let her tell you.”
Storm changed the conversation topic to his daughters and when he would be seeing them. It was a good tactic; he could talk about them for hours. She shared how much fun she found her best friend’s twelve-year-old son. “I can understand how you miss your girls. I miss Robbie, and he’s not even my child.”
“You like kids, don’t you?” Damon asked.
“Yeah, I do. Though I was never one of those people who went gaga over babies. I guess I didn’t know what to do with them.”
“Once you have them, you know.”
“I can believe that,” Storm said.
“You should do it.”
Storm couldn’t help but laugh. “Have a baby?” Like baking a cake.
“Well,” and Damon had the grace to blush, “you know, settle down. Like that.”
Easy for you to say, Storm thought. “Maybe some day. Meanwhile, I have friends with kids.” She leaned toward him and dropped her voice. “Have you heard anything about Carmen?”
“Uh,” he picked up his beer, avoiding her eyes. “I heard she’s doing okay.”
“Who told you?”
“Lara did. I think she talked to Stella.”
Storm doubted that. “Poor kid. I heard Hiroki Yoshinaka had a gambling problem.”
“Yeah,” Damon rearranged the sodden coaster under his beer bottle.
“Did you hear about that? Were some guys after him?”
“Look, I couldn’t do anything.”
Storm sat back. “What do you mean?”
“I’m tapped out. I don’t have that much cash lying around.”
“He asked you for money?”
“Yeah.” Damon’s hand trembled. “I wish I had, you know? But I didn’t know how bad it was.”
“How much did he ask for?”
“Twenty.”
“Twenty thousand?”
“Yeah.” He peeled the label from his beer bottle, anything to avoid looking at her.
Storm thought about the numbers she’d seen, the ones Sergeant Moana had mentioned. Yoshinaka had asked Damon for a little more than his debt. He rounded up, probably for other expenses, like food and clothes for the girls.
Damon’s eyes glowed with moisture. “I didn’t know.”
“No, how could you?” Storm said. “No one would expect such an extreme reaction. Not for twenty thousand.”
“I didn’t have it in cash, but I did have some saved for my daughters’ education. Twenty thou wasn’t worth his life or Crystal’s.”
“Of course not.” She reached a gentle hand to his arm.
“I feel awful about this.” The emotion in his voice carried to nearby diners, and some turned to see what was happening.
“I believe you.”
“I made a bad decision, and I’d take it back in a minute if I could.”
“What did he tell you when he asked you for the money?”
“His English wasn’t so good, and my Japanese is worse.” Damon took a shaky breath. “He said something about ‘for the girls.’ I just didn’t get it.”
“No one would have.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, trying to force down a gobbet of remorse. “Yeah, it’s like politics.” His lips attempted a smile. “You can’t tell what’s going on behind the scenes.”
“Yeah, what do you think people who voted for W feel like?”
He stared at her. “I voted for him.”
“Oh. Never mind.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t know.” He downed the rest of his beer.
“Let’s get something to eat,” Storm said, and waved the waitress over. They placed their orders, and when the waitress left, Damon’s mood had ascended from black to merely blue.
“I feel like shit.”
“It’s the fault of the guys who threatened him, not yours.” She lowered her voice. “You need to believe that.”
“I could have helped.”
“Do you know where he gambled?”
“No.” The answer came too fast.
“Damon, you can’t protect him any longer. Anyway, I’ve heard some things.”
“Stay out of it, Storm.” A bit of steel that hadn’t been there before showed in his voice.
She eyed him. “Let me ask you a question, then.”
He didn’t respond. Still scraping for shreds of self-esteem.
“How did he gamble? Pachinko?”
“I think so. At least, partly.”
“Sports betting?”
“Maybe a little.” He breathed out heavily through his nose. “Heck, we all do that.”
“Cards?”
Damon frowned. “I doubt if his English was good enough.”
“I thought poker was international.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” That sounded honest.
“Where do these games take place?”
“Lots of places. We take bets at work, in bars—anyplace there’s a TV with a game on.”
“What bars?”
He turned in his chair and pointed at the bar TV set, which was tuned to a baseball game.
“What bars have Pachinko machines?”
“Why do you want to know about Pachinko?”
Uncle Miles used to tell her not to trust a person who answers a question with a question. “Come on, where did Yoshinaka gamble?”
Damon looked around for the waitress, took time to catch her eye and gesture for another beer. “Why do you want to know?”
Another question. How much should she tell him? Maybe another little shock was what he needed. “Yoshinaka might have been threatened with his daughters’ welfare. Prostitution goes on in a lot of those places.”
“Fuck.” The waitress put the fresh beer in front of him, but he didn’t look up. He just wagged his head from side to side as if he wanted to deny the thoughts that dwelled in his mind.
Their meals arrived right after the drink, and Storm was glad for the interruption. Damon wasn’t responding to her questions; discussing the Yoshinaka family seemed to drive him further away.
She’d missed lunch and was starved. Her lamb chops were delicious, but Damon poked at his steak.
“That can’t be. They’re too young,” he said finally. “They’re my daughters’ ages.”
Storm tried to imagine how Hamlin would react to a menace of this magnitude toward children he knew. It seemed to her he’d show a lot more revulsion than Damon. Hamlin might erupt with something on the order of, “Fucking maggots, how could they?”
Not Damon. He acted like he’d already heard a rumor and was in denial.
“How old’s Keiko?” she asked.
Damon’s head came up. “A lot older than the Yoshinaka girls.”
Storm glared at him. “You knew she worked in one of the bars.”
He moved garlic mashed potatoes around on his plate. “She’s twenty-something, and Lara’s trying to help her out. Stella, too.”
“Stella’s helping Keiko or Lara’s helping Stella?”
“All of them, I don’t know. You know how women are.” He stabbed at his food as if he wanted to use the fork on someone. Her, probably.
Storm concentrated on her meal, which was delicious. “How are those mashed potatoes?”
He took a bite. “Good. And garlicky—I like that.” He put a big chunk of steak in his mouth and chewed.
Storm stayed on safe conversational subjects all the way through dessert. She ordered a warm apple galette with ice cream, he got the hot fudge brownie sundae, and they shared.
“How many jobs have you done for Lara?” she asked.
“This is my third.”
“The remodel was the first?” Storm reached her fork across the table for a bite of his brownie and pushed her plate toward him. “That was an apartment, right?”
“Yeah, I think she was testing me for the house, which was her big project. Has she shown you that? She’s got two rich investors bidding on it, and she’s going to make a bundle.”
Storm remembered the day the shark had chased Lara, and how well Lara had known the Makena locale. She’d also recognized the construction guys coming from work on projects in the area.
“Is that the one on the bluff down by Makena?”
“It’s on the ocean side of the street, and better hidden than that place. Private, yet right on the beach.” Damon took a bite of the apple tart.
“She’s a smart woman.”
“Yes, she is.” His voice was thoughtful.
“I’m a bit worried about how much she’s taking on at one time.”
“That’s crossed my mind, too,” he said.
“Is her mother’s health worrying her?”
Damon finished off the last of his brownie and pushed back from the table. “She won’t be leaving that rest home. That would worry anyone.”
“Yes, it would.”
They left the parking lot together and said good-bye standing on the gravel next to their cars. “Thanks for dinner,” Damon said.
“I’m leaving tomorrow, so I might not see you for a while. Call me if you visit O‘ahu,” Storm said.
“I thought you were meeting Lara tomorrow morning.”
“You’ll be at the shop? On Sunday?”
“We’re in a rush, remember? The final push for the grand opening.”
Damon left the parking lot first, and Storm followed. She faced a half-hour drive on a winding road, so she was glad she’d merely sipped at the second glass of wine.
Five minutes down the dark highway, Damon’s brake lights gleamed. Ahead, the flashing blue beacons of several police cars pierced the night. Storm followed Damon into the small, crowded parking lot bordering one of the many little beach parks that dotted the coastline. The headlights of the police cruisers streamed from the cars toward the vastness of the ocean, only to dissipate feebly into a pillow of inky night. There were no people in the cars, but down by the lapping waves, flashlight beams converged in one area, where they flitted like agitated fairies, united against the dense night.