Surfing Detective 02 - Wipeout

grand into my hands and told me to stop my investigation. They said
Mr. Sun
wanted me to stop.”
    “Drugs,” Tommy said, “or drug money. Those are the only things that move Frank O. Sun.”
    “But how does Summer fit into this?” I wondered aloud. “She might be in danger.”
    “Or she might be pulling the wool over your eyes,” Tommy smirked. “I’ve always thought you’re too much of a choir boy to be a private dick.”
    “Help me think here, Tommy. Could Corky be connected to Sun? What would a surfer do for a drug lord?”
    “Who knows? Sun has a big organization . . .” Tommy was silent for a rare moment. “You said your surfer made lots of trips between California and Hawai‘i. Did he ever surf in Mexico? Maybe he’s a small-time supplier, or a dealer, or a mule.”
    “Then what about Summer?”
    “Maybe Sun couldn’t find him and had her hire you to do it for him, which means Sun wants this Corky
badly.
He probably skipped out with cash or drugs.”
    “And a BMW convertible.”
    “That too. I would guess if they get to him before you do, he’s toast.”
    “Not good.”
    “Why should you care about him?”
    “I don’t. I’m just worried about his pregnant wife if Sun has her. Once he deals with Corky, what value is she?”
    “You really think she’s not involved?”
    “I think she’s innocent.”
    “You might be surprised, my friend.”
    Tommy’s words rang in my ears after he hung up.

Fourteen

    Removing the rubber band from the green roll on my desk, I peeled off one bill after another. These were not crisp new notes, but well worn, high-mileage currency that had wandered the streets.
    I counted to fifteen and still had more than half the roll left. Then I wrapped the loose bills back into the wad, and slipped it into my desk’s top drawer, by the Smith & Wesson.
    I decided to leave a message for Summer. I made it brief: “Summer, please call me if you need further assistance.”
    I didn’t really expect to hear from her. She was spinning in Sun’s powerful orbit; who was I to pull her out? Tommy was very likely right. I had been merely an errand boy—and now Mr. Sun was through with me. I wasn’t going to give up, but I did take his message seriously. A shadowy drug lord was often a businessman of many enterprises.
    My job now was to find Summer’s wayward husband before Sun did, if it meant saving her. I wondered if Sun’s men would stop tailing me just because my investigation had been declared over.
    I locked the two dead bolts of my door on my way out, then navigated the incense haze wafting from Madame Zenobia’s shop. Descending the stairs I spotted Leimomi in the back room stringing blue-dyed carnations and perfumy tuberose.
Tourist leis.
She sat by herself, looking glum, so I rushed on before she could catch my eye. But I didn’t evade Mrs. Fujiyama.
    “Mr. Cooke.” Her courteous smile straightened.
    “Hello, Mrs. Fujiyama. How are you today?”
    “Very good,” said the silver-haired matriarch. “But not so good my lei girl.”
    “Anything wrong?” I acted puzzled, but a sinking feeling told me what my landlady was about to say.
    “Leimomi.” Mrs. Fujiyama’s smile now turned down at the corners.
    “What’s wrong?” I asked the obvious.
    “Maybe
you
know?” She peered at me over her half glasses. “You her friend, yes?”
    “Yes, I’m her friend . . .” What else could I say?
She thinks she’s pregnant and I’m the father?
That wouldn’t do. So I settled for, “We’re having dinner tonight. I could ask her then if anything’s wrong.”
    “Leimomi very young.” Mrs. Fujiyama’s eyes darkened.
    “Yes, Leimomi is young,” I conceded.
    “Time for Mr. Cooke to marry?” She held me in her gaze. “Maybe you like have family -- wife and
keiki.
Single life not so good, you know.”
    “Plenty of time,” I said uncomfortably. “I’m only thirty-four.”
    “Thirty-four,” she echoed. “Old man already. You be surprise’. Time fly. Before you know it—too old for family. Wife want young man. Not dry old man.”
    I was about to say something I’d probably regret, so I let her remark pass and made for the door.
    Later that afternoon I headed for a quick session at Paradise. There was still one hour of light. I intended to use it.
    Offshore of the Halekulani Hotel, Paradise is one of the most remote and least crowded spots in Waikiki, producing a narrow, peaky break that pumps up into crystal-blue curls. Takeoffs are steep and