Pilikia Is My Business by Mark Troy

Author:Mark Troy [Troy, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: 0578069660
Published: 2020-09-09T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23 - Work Straight

I had an idea that Harriet Quimby was an historical figure and a visit to the library confirmed it. From a book on notable women I learned that Harriet Quimby had been an adventurer - a San Francisco reporter who took up flying in its infancy. She was the first woman to have a pilot’s license and the first to fly the English Channel. She died in an air show in 1921.

To me, and probably to most women, Harriet Quimby was obscure, but, to a woman pilot and activist, she would have been a heroic figure. I could imagine twenty-something years ago, Sue and Ailene setting up their network of home abortionists, trying to decide on the code name and Aileen, the pilot, drawing inspiration from her heroine, Harriet Quimby. That would account for Friendly Isle Air Tours’ number being on Sue’s phone. Friendly Isle was the means of contact between Sue and Aileen.

>From the library phone, I called the Friendly Isle number and got a recorded message, “This is Captain Phil. The Friendly Bird is on the wing right now. We’ll be back on the ground at five. Our next tour leaves at eleven tomorrow.”

With about two hours left in the afternoon, I decided to find out what I could about the Don Bosco Youth Apprenticeship Foundation. The phone book had an address for it which turned out to be a Diocesan Community Center in Kalihi.

Kalihi is a working-class neighborhood of mostly Hawaiian and other Pacific Islanders. Except for the ethnic composition, it reminds me of the neighborhood in San Francisco where my mother and I lived after my father left us. Close enough to the edge of poverty that you can see into its depths anytime you choose to look.

The Diocesan Center was a new building between two rows of public housing. A narrow strip of grass and some low shrubs in front of the Center softened the hard edge of the neighborhood. Alongside the building was a paved area marked off for basketball and hockey, but when I drove up it was being used as a stage for hip-hop routines by a group of kids with a boombox. They watched hungrily as I parked the car and got out. Whether the hunger was for me or the Lexus, I couldn’t tell.

The Apprenticeship Foundation occupied two small offices on the ground floor. Desk, file cabinets, personal computer, and bulletin board with announcements. The guy behind the desk was early twenties and clean cut.

“Are you in charge?” I asked.

He smiled brightly. “More or less. I’m doing a practical ministry. They gave me a key and a place to sit. So, what can I do for you?”

I gave him my card and introduced myself as a private investigator. He seemed impressed. He was a seminarian, he said. When I asked about the foundation, he was only too happy to tell me about it. It was named in honor of St. John Bosco, known as Don Bosco, a priest who worked with needy and troubled youths, providing them with jobs and education.

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