Unruly Son by Neil S. Plakcy

Author:Neil S. Plakcy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay, police procedural, hawaii, honolulu, mystery, crime
Publisher: Samwise Books
Published: 2022-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

16: Skewered

Sunday morning, I got a text from Doc Takayama that he and Lidia had taken a couple of days off for a quick trip to Maui, and that he’d be back in the office on Monday. Not to worry; no one was going to release Karen Fontenot’s body without his signoff.

Right after that, a second text came in. An invitation to an impromptu luau at Haoa’s and Tatiana’s that afternoon. Was it to welcome Sergei back to Honolulu? If it was, for once I had a piece of news before the rest of the coconut telegraph got it.

I relayed the message to the rest of the ohana, while Mike went next door to talk to his parents. When I met him, he was single and closeted, and I thought it was either stupid or self-sabotaging to have bought the other half of the duplex where he had grown up. You certainly couldn’t hide a one-night stand if your parents could see your driveway from their living room.

But eventually he had come out, and introduced me to them, and his father and I had settled into an uneasy truce, which eventually had become a full-blown father and son relationship, especially after my own father died. Now I was glad to have them nearby.

Once we had affirmative responses from all concerned, I responded to Liliha’s text on behalf of all of us. “We’ll be eleven, counting Ray, Julie and Vinnie,” I texted. “May have to rent a bus.”

She responded with a thumbs up. Being the mother of teens, and then young people, had converted her from calling to texting.

Then I called my mother. “Is someone picking you up for the luau this afternoon?”

“You are the first who has offered.”

“That’s because I’m the best son,” I said, even though I knew that wasn’t remotely true. “What are you cooking?”

“Nothing. This party is a big surprise to me. I can’t pull a pot of chicken long rice out of a hat like a rabbit, you know.”

“Should I make something?”

She laughed. “You can’t cook, Kimo.”

“Of course I can,” I said. “Mike and I alternate making dinner for each other every night.”

“That’s not cooking, that’s preparing,” she said. “None of you boys ever showed an interest in learning how to cook.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said. “We’ll pick you up at two. Love you.”

“I love you too,” she said.

I quickly turned to my iPad and Googled quick simple Hawaiian dishes. “Mike,” I called. “You can cook beef skewers, can’t you?”

“I can grill anything that has a flame involved.”

“Great. I’ll be right back.”

I jumped into my Jeep and zoomed down the hill to the Foodland, where I did a quick shop, buying the ingredients from the online recipe: light brown sugar, soy sauce, pineapple juice, garlic and round steak. I doubled the amount of the recipe. I can do this, I said to myself. Mike and me together.

Then I got home and read the instructions, which included “marinate beef in the refrigerator for 24 hours.”

I looked at the clock.

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