Wipeout! by Chip Hughes

Author:Chip Hughes [Hughes, Chip]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery & Detective, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9781597002479
Google: gKbNPQAACAAJ
Publisher: Island Heritage Publishing
Published: 2007-01-30T11:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Until my Honolulu-bound jetliner was wheels up and climbing, I resisted opening the envelope I had borrowed from Maya’s mailbox.

Written in the same feminine shaky hand as the envelope, the letter said:

Dear Charles,

Son, thank God you are alive! The story of your surfing accident at Waimea Bay was carried on all the TV networks and CNN, on the radio, and even the Lewiston paper. They all believed you were dead. But I prayed to God that you survived. My prayers have been answered.

It’s a shame you have to hide from those bad men and can’t even let your wife know you are alive. I fully understand and will keep your secret.

Please send me your new address.

Love,

Mom

Corky was more of a fool than I had imagined. If you are planning to disappear, the last person on earth you want to tell is your own mother. Any halfway decent insurance investigator would start with her. If Mr. Gold had not, he wasn’t doing his job. But, then, if he had, maybe this mother who wasn’t bright enough leave her fleeing son’s name off envelopes was bright enough to fool an insurance investigator.

I returned to Maunakea Street late that afternoon, letter in hand—my only piece of hard evidence that Corky McDahl was apparently very much alive.

Mr. Gold had good reason to be suspicious. But I wasn’t working for Mr. Gold. I was working for Summer, who was now more mysterious to me than ever. Was she totally in the dark, as the letter suggested? Or was she working with Corky? And perhaps Maya? And who were these “bad men”—the same men with Summer in the black Mercedes? Or were the “bad men” just some excuse Corky had given his mother to justify his running out on his pregnant wife and taking up with another woman?

The red light on my answering machine reminded me that Summer had never returned my call. I pressed Play and heard Tommy Woo’s voice.

“Hey, Kai, did you hear the one about the Chinese, Filipino, and Hawaiian astronauts . . .” After a punch line that would get Tommy himself punched in some circles, he added “My client got hung out to dry by the Sun organization. He took the wrap for that ice he sold. Thought you’d like to know.”

Why did Tommy think I would like to know? Because the same thing had happened to Leimomi’s father, who was still cooling his heels in prison? Her dad could have plea-bargained for a lighter sentence, and been out by now on parole, had he testified against the kingpin. But that meant harassment, bodily harm, or death.

As I erased Tommy’s message, there was a gentle Tap . . . Tap . . . Tap at my door. I reached for the knob and found Leimomi standing there, still wearing her lei stringing clothes—white Bermudas and a pink T-shirt that said “Fujiyama’s Flower Lei’s” and carried the ambrosial scent of ginger and pikake. I glanced involuntarily at her tummy, wondering if it had already started to bulge like Summer’s.

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