Motive by Stevens Dustin

Author:Stevens, Dustin [Stevens, Dustin]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2014-10-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Regardless of time, day or night, there was no busier spot in Honolulu than Maunakea Street. Wedged into the geographic center of Chinatown, it was surrounded on all sides by four bustling blocks of activity, ranging from pawn shops to homeless shelters.

By day, the sidewalks of Maunakea were lined with open-air markets. Sold to local growers by the ten-foot parcel, the entire stretch of cement on either side of the street was lined tight with sellers, all standing along the curb, aggressively hawking their wares.

Some specialized in local produce, having every vegetable found in the state on display, ranging from winter melon to Thai chiles. Others preferred to work with fruits, running the gamut from mango and papaya to the more exotic lychee and star fruits.

The corner units were dominated by meat vendors, the extra space affording them the ability to bring in glass cabinets, even the occasional standing rotisserie. Fresh butchered chickens were lined on ice for people to choose from, the entire bird sectioned off and ready for distribution. Above them hung cuts of pork and beef, a variety that encompassed intestines, shank, even testicles if a person desired.

The markets opened each morning at seven o’clock, starting in time with the sun, regardless of time of year. Seven days a week they were open and operational, ignoring conventional work schedules and holidays, always met by a mob of locals in need of goods.

Depending on the size of the crowd they began to break down some time mid-afternoon, boxing up their unsold product and sweeping their debris into the streets. By six o’clock each afternoon all that remained from the busy day was the thick aroma of the food that had sat in the sun for hours, the unmistakable scent of onions hanging over everything.

A brief window of calm settled in for the two hours before sundown, followed by a second very distinct group of vendors taking to the streets. Armed not with cases of beef or cucumbers, they descended on Maunakea dressed in spandex and lace, their height unnaturally inflated by the heels on their feet. Garish makeup concealed most of their true features, their state of mind most often altered by some form of illegal substance.

It was in the second group that Kalani felt sure Candy Lee fit into, a belief based on the victim’s name and the autopsy report handed over by Dr. Song. Standing on the corner looking up at the address Tseng had given them just an hour before, Kalani was even more certain of it.

The unit was a second floor walk-up above a pair of vegetable vendors, both well down from the traditional flow of foot traffic, an elderly man sitting silent and alone between them. His aging Chinese features had receded into a maze of wrinkles and excess skin as he sat staring straight ahead, his hands hanging down between his knees.

The scent of roasted chicken and ribs floated down from the shop on the corner as she and Rip both stared upward, noticing the torn drapes hanging across a cracked pane of glass.

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