The Ocean Waves The Air Waves BackChapter 6
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Wednesday was a day off from each other and from the case, mostly because Penny had work to do. She had class early and had to catch up on homework. When she had come visiting me at the station, she'd just awoken from her night's sleep. So, after a brief nestling nap, coming down from a sexual height I had never reached before, and she probably hadn't either, Penny gently nudged me out the door.
One item of the case made me pause at her borrowed 1967 red Mustang convertible. I jotted down the driver's license. The car being viewable from her window, the jotting happened a block down the road. I hoped the license would be enough, because getting the VID number would mean some stealing type activity which made me uncomfortable, either stealing into her purse to find her insurance card or stealing into the car and recording the number. My undercover work so far may have been underhanded, but at least we had both enjoyed the hell out of it.
I hadn't exactly seduced her. I'm not sure she seduced me. Perhaps it was a mutual seduction. I couldn't ignore the fact that we'd become lovers and friends. Whether in love or not didn't matter. A trust between us even if built on a matchstick foundation had been created. The last thing I wanted to do was break into her purse or her car.
I called Lieutenant Nakamoto of the Honolulu police to find out about the license. When he got back to me, I knew it wasn't good.
"Why do you want the name?" asked Nakamoto over the phone.
"It's a case, Donald, why else?" I said, feeling uncomfortable, and putting the stress onto my good friend.
"If your target is a car thief, I'd love to know about it."
"Shit," I thought. "Could you tell me the type of car that this license is supposedly attached to?" I asked.
"Some old Dodge Dart. The victim probably should be thankful it's gone, except he probably couldn't afford theft protection, or a new car for that matter. He just got new plates though a couple months ago."
"I'd look in a junkyard for a Dodge Dart with no plates," I said sadly.
"So whose car is attached to them now?"
"Can I get back to you on that?" I pleaded as gracefully as possible.
"Give me a hint why," said Nakamoto after a pause.
"The person I am dealing with does not know she's driving a car with stolen plates. I'd really love it if she doesn't have that information at this point in time."
"And..."
"When I find out the person who did steal the Dodge and switched plates, you will be the first to know."
"Promise?"
"I really need this, Donald."
He hung up.
Sandy hadn't gotten far with her side of the case. She stayed in a hotel in Eau Claire and made contact with the University there and the police. She hadn't expected cooperation from the school and found little. She had made an appointment with an older detective around ten years before when Penny Kolhaas drowned in the St Croix River, but that waited until the next day.
She made further appointments with the Vice President in charge of corporate clients involved in parts needed for Jordan's company's manufacturing; a woman Sandy sensed might not share the interest or approval of Jordan and his fawning harem; and Jordan's mother, who she had visited before asking about Joan and her son's relationship, but needed to discuss her other son Cole. Those meetings she set up for Friday. So Wednesday for her, like for me, became a day of rest, preparing for some busy days ahead.
Not until late Thursday did I see my new lover. Betty, the director of the play we had auditioned for finally called with the good news. I had gotten the part. The first rehearsal was set for Monday. As soon as I hung up, I called Penny.
"Have you talked with Betty?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. She didn't sound as excited as I thought she would. "You did too, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I hope for the same reason. Did you..."
"Of course, and I told you you would too. I thought you trusted me."
"Well Jesus Penny, I haven't had a chance to develop any confidence as an actor, especially as far as thinking I got the role despite what anyone might tell me."
"I know," said Penny with a laugh. "Congratulations!"
"You too. Let's celebrate."
"Tell me where and I'll be there."
"Right now?"
"I've been expecting your call. I'm showered and dressed and ready for some partying."
I gave her the address of Charlie's club. I told her not to worry about dressing up.
"I am already," said Penny.
"So much the better," I said.
When she drove into the semi private parking area under the mini tower of concrete blocks that housed the club, I had just arrived myself. Only a couple of other cars remained. She stepped out of her car looking elegant and beautiful in a low cut dress, showing off her cleavage, and when she got ahead of me, some ass cleavage as well. It was a sexy satiny scarlet color. Guiding her to the elevator, I explained that we had the place to ourselves. The chef had fixed up a fancy meal and when we got out on the dining level, he readied to leave.
"It's on the stove, in the oven or in the fridge," explained the chef, an old hapa haoli who had worked for Charlie for years. "I'll just change and head on out."
"Did you tell Mike?" I asked Manny, the chef. Mike was another old employee. Though only in his late twenties, he had been cleaning at the club since he was a kid, having been one of Charlie's victims. Mike barely spoke. Manny was his only friend.
Manny nodded. "He's about done. You two have fun." He winked at Penny. "Clean up after," he ordered.
"Thanks Manny," I said as he headed into the locker room. "Sit anywhere," I said to Penny, gesturing to the white tablecloth tables.
"Nice," she said.
"This was where I worked first. I learned to be a gentleman busing tables for the upper class." I headed back into the kitchen to see what Manny had created. The Mahi Mahi warmed in the oven along with some white asparagus. The rice sat on the stove. Two small plates of spinach salad kept cool in the large fridge. I went into the beverage cooler to grab the best white wine I could find, grabbing a cork screw near the dining room before passing through it. I sat the wine and its opener down on the table Penny had chosen. "Let me set the table. It will be just a moment," I said.
"You want help?" asked Penny.
"No thanks. It will be like old times."
We ate, drank and talked. Penny told me what to expect in the next few weeks, rehearsing and performing, and the kind of bond you have which is like no other. She told me specific theater stories. She talked about the play we would be debuting on the stage near Diamond Head. I kept her talking. When we finished eating, she helped me clear away the dishes and wash them and the pots and pans in the kitchen. I opened a new bottle of wine, and we began our journey into intoxication.
"I forgot something," I said after taking a sip from the delicious dry white wine. "I need to grab something from my car. Wait here."
I dashed out and descended to the parking garage. Though not enclosed, it separated from the rest of the Ala Moana Shopping Center by some distance and some pillars. Being late, few cars parked nearby. I quickly grabbed the slim jim I used to unlock cars and had Penny's Mustang opened in seconds. I jotted down the VID number and closed her driver side door.
I noticed a couple flashes, but couldn't tell if my imagination or passing cars on the nearby avenue created them. The flashlight I used cast a pretty intense beam and I felt a little light headed. Once done with my bit of stealing, putting away the equipment in my car and grabbing the brown bag from under my seat containing the excuse for my subterfuge, I glanced around to look for anything suspicious. I thought I saw a glow like a cigarette combusting several yards away where a group of cars parked near a bar/ restaurant. It could be many things, so I set aside any uncomfortable paranoia for the time being.
She wanted to spy into the bag obviously containing a record album. "Wait," I said. We finished a glass of the wine.
"Follow me," I told Penny, grabbing the wine and the bag. Penny grabbed the glasses and followed me to the elevators. I took her up one floor to the infamous orgy room filled with pillows, some large enough to be beds. Once I had the large room dimly illuminated, I presented her with my present.
The bag contained a newly reissued collection of beat poets reciting over jazz, perfect for her show, and she was delighted. A cassette tape that I made for us, a collection of music background for making love I pulled from the bag. It started with Eno and his Ambient Music, then some cool jazz featuring Miles and Stan Getz. The first side finished with ecstatic jazz from the late sixties that built from a slow beauty to a blare of horns created by a collection of Chicago musicians.
I planned to make love for the length of the tape. I put in the tape and pulled out a joint. We listened to the dark voices and synthesizer of Eno. Once the joint became a roach, we cooled our throats with the wine and began making love.
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