Mahu Fire (8 page)

BLOW UP

I pushed my chair back from the table. “I ate too much. The food was great.” I thought I’d get up and walk around the room a bit, walk off some of the food and look for the sweaty guy again. He was kind of cute, after all, and if I could figure out where I’d met him before, I could go up to him and chat.

“Better watch out,” Gunter said. “Too much rich foods build up down there in the stomach.” He reached over to pat mine.

I flexed my abs. You couldn’t tell in the tuxedo, but they were still strong and flat. “Build that up,” I said, pointing down.

“I’d like to.” His smile had a little bit of a leer to it, and I had to smile myself That’s when we heard the first chant. “No more ho-mos, no more ho-mos.” It wasn’t too loud, but there could have been twenty or thirty voices. They sounded like they were right outside. I headed straight through the courtyard toward the door to the street, and met Sandra just before I got there.

I looked around and saw that Gunter and Harry were right behind me. I figured chasing the sweaty guy would have to wait for another time. “Sandra and I will take care of this,” I said.

“Gunter and I are just the backup,” Harry said. Behind them I saw my brothers as well.

Sandra and I walked out front while the four of them remained just behind us. A group of about twenty men and women stood in front of the building carrying signs that read things like “Homosexuality is the work of the devil” and “You’re not converting our children.”

The crowd reminded me of the people I’d seen at the Church of Adam and Eve—a mixed cross section of Hawai’i, mostly middle-aged. The men wore jeans, khakis and plaid shirts, the women patterned dresses. Some of the clothes were so new you could still see the creases in the shirts. I had a feeling someone had gone shopping at the Walmart earlier that day.

“Great,” I muttered. I assumed that many of those in the crowd were people who’d been recruited at the homeless shelter earlier that day. For some reason that bothered me more than anything. I believe in democracy. People who have a problem with something are entitled to stand up and voice their opinions. But paying somebody to support your cause is just lame.

A man I recognized as Wilson Shira, the Vice Mayor of Honolulu, stepped forward from the group. He was a short, angry Nisei, or first-generation Japanese-American, and his political capital was built on ethnic strife. I guessed he was taking the “vice” in his title seriously. “I assume you have a permit for this demonstration, sir,” I said.

“Absolutely.” He pulled a piece of paper from his the pocket of his suit jacket and showed it to me. The city of Honolulu had granted him a permit for a peaceful demonstration at our address, for nine p.m. that evening. It was just a few minutes past nine then.

“I’m Sandra Guarino. I’m the Executive Director of the Hawai’i Marriage Project. We’re having a private fund-raising event here this evening, and I’d like to ask you to reschedule your protest.”

“We know about your fund-raiser,” Shira said. He was about Cathy’s height, with the same stocky build. I wondered which one of them would win a wrestling match. “That’s why we’re here. We want to know who supports you and we want them to know we know who they are.”

“Our membership roster is open to the public,” Sandra said. “We’re a not-for-profit corporation. I’ll be happy to show you our membership list.”

Shira looked at his crew. They all nodded encouragingly. “Good.”

“In exchange, you agree to leave us alone this evening,” Sandra said.

Again Shira looked at the crowd to read their sentiment. Besides the homeless, the people behind Shira looked like regular working folks, with families and jobs. I knew they didn’t want to be out too late on a Wednesday night. There seemed to be grudging approval of the plan, so Shira followed Sandra back into the building. Gunter stepped up next to me, Harry and my brothers right behind me. “We’ll stay here with you until they leave,” Gunter said.

Partly because I wanted to, and partly just to spite the crowd, I took Gunter’s hand and squeezed. We stood there in front of them, holding hands. Gunter’s was warm in mine and it felt good. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but it probably wasn’t more than ten or fifteen minutes, nobody saying much. Then, suddenly, the crowd in front of us was lit with a great light.

A second later a huge boom rocked the building behind us, knocking me to my knees. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. A blast of hot air burst out from behind us. Gunter fell to the ground, my brothers and Harry tumbling too. I remember looking at the palm of my hand, seeing where a piece of gravel in the street had scratched it. I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my cell phone.

I looked behind me. Haoa looked the least dazed. “Call 911.” I threw him the phone, and followed it with my wallet, with the badge flapped open on the end. “Tell them there’s already a detective on the scene. Give them my number.”

Then I ran toward the entrance of the building.

I looked around behind me. Gunter and Harry were getting up. Lui already had his own cell phone out, probably calling his station with the exclusive. I pushed open the front door, going after Sandra and Wilson Shira. The front wall of the bathroom was gone, leaving shreds of sheetrock and twisted metal studs, and tongues of flame licked the surrounding area. There was gritty smoke in the air, like a dozen guys had been puffing on stinky cigars. Water was pooled on the floor in the corner and seemed to be spreading.

I met Robert coming in from the lanai. “All our data!” he said. “I have to get our files out!”

“Get out of here!”

He pushed past me and hurried to his desk. I shook my head and ran for the stairs. Sandra and Shira had to be up there. Fortunately the staircase was on the opposite side of the building from the bathroom, so all I had to contend with was some smoke rising around me.

As I climbed I heard Brandon crying. “God, let Brandon be all right,” I said to myself. Arleen had left him in a bassinet on Sandra’s desk, but when I rounded the comer from the staircase the room was totally unrecognizable. There was a huge hole in the floor and I could look down directly into a pit of flames that I thought was the bathroom.

Brandon was lying on the floor in a nest of papers and files. Sandra was unconscious, lying half on her desk, her legs hanging dangerously close to the fiery abyss. I couldn’t see Wilson Shira anywhere in the room.

Harry was right behind me, rushing toward Brandon. “Be careful!” I shouted, above the noise of the flames. It was much hotter in there, even though I could look up through the roof to the sky. The heat rose up from the first floor in waves, and the wallpaper was starting to blister. The back window was gone, just shards of glass stuck in the frame.

As Harry ran to get the baby, I picked my way over to Sandra. I had to go very slowly because I wasn’t sure how strong the floor was, and I didn’t want to get too close to any of the furniture in case it was hot. By the time I reached her, Harry had picked up Brandon and gone back down the stairs.

Sandra still had a pulse. I took off my jacket and wrapped it around her, and then I undid the bow tie Gunter had so carefully tied for me, leaving its ends hanging around my neck, and ripped open my shirt collar. It was so hot up there I was sweating like crazy, and I was worried my hands would be too slick to hold on to Sandra.

I heard a distant siren but knew I couldn’t stay in that building a minute longer than I had to. I managed to get Sandra over my shoulder in the fireman’s carry and struggled back across the room, picking my way carefully again. By the time I made it to the top of the stairs, though, the fire had spread considerably.

Flames crackled around the narrow staircase as I slowly moved down, trying to balance Sandra’s weight over my shoulder, praying that the fire would come no closer, that it wouldn’t collapse the treads and risers under me. It was hard to breathe without getting a lung full of smoke, and the air burned on its way down my throat.

By the time I made it to the first floor, I was ready to collapse with exhaustion. The air was a little fresher down there as the updraft forced the fire and smoke out through the roof. I paused at the foot of the stairs, leaning back against a wall, and saw Gunter dragging Robert out the back door. They both seemed to be on fire, like I was watching some kind of horror movie.

The staircase began to collapse behind me, and I knew I had to get out. I took big, heaving, running steps toward the street, chased by a wall of flame rushing toward my back. The last thing I remember is getting to the front door where Haoa waited for me, feeling that utter sense of relief that I imagine only little brothers feel, when you know a big brother is there to take over for you.

COLORED PINWHEELS

I woke up flat on my back on the street, an oxygen mask on my face and an EMT leaning over me taking my blood pressure. Somebody was pounding a jackhammer inside my head, while the shrimp I’d so gleefully dipped in cocktail sauce and swallowed only a short while earlier seemed to be rising up in revolt inside my stomach. I pulled the mask off and immediately started a coughing jag that seemed to loosen everything inside my lungs and throat.

“Don’t worry,” the EMT said, as he tried to put the oxygen mask back on me. “You swallowed a lot of smoke in there, but we’re going to get you to the hospital and by tomorrow you’ll be just fine.”

I struggled to sit up and pinwheels of colored light went off behind my eyelids. My legs and arms felt so heavy I thought they might be pinned to the pavement. “My family,” I finally croaked out. “What happened to my parents and my brothers?”

“Hey, big fella, you just lie down there.” He tried to ease me back down flat, but I wouldn’t let him. “Tell me your name.”

I told him, and he pulled out his radio and made a call. “They’ve got an Al Kanapa’aka at Queens. Smoke inhalation. They’re admitting him for observation. Any other names?”

We went through the list. I kept coughing, every time I tried to get a name out, but the EMT was remarkably patient. My brothers and their wives hadn’t been hurt. Sandra Guarino was the worst, with a concussion, burns, maybe some internal injuries. Robert and Gunter had both been admitted for observation, with burns and smoke inhalation. I couldn’t think of anyone else to ask about and it frustrated me.

Sitting up, I could see what was going on around me. The streetscape was bright with high-intensity lamps, headlights, and the last glowing embers of the fire. At least four fire trucks were present, dozens of firemen, and a phalanx of cops. Off to one side I saw TV cameras from KVOL, my brother’s station. It reminded me of the carnivals at the Hawai’i State Fair.

“Feel better now?” the EMT asked. “You want to cooperate? You ought to go to the hospital, let them check you out. Just to be safe.” He was a skinny, red-haired haole with a stethoscope hanging sideways around his neck. He had a bunch of different patches sewn onto his white tunic but I didn’t bother to read them.

“I’m a cop. I’ve got to find out what’s going on.” I stood up and swayed on my feet, jackhammer pounding, stomach churning, pinwheels dancing. I took a deep breath and for the first time smelled something other than smoke, a deep under layer of salt water and seaweed on an ocean breeze that was layered over with car exhaust, smoke and urban grime. I felt like the coughing was getting a little better.

“I can’t be responsible for you if you won’t listen to my advice,” the EMT said.

“So don’t be.” I patted myself down, just to make sure everything was there, and discovered that Haoa had returned my badge and cell phone to me while I was knocked out. I felt a cool breeze against my back and realized that my shirt must have been torn or charred at some point. But my jacket, which I’d wrapped around Sandra Guarino, was on the ground next to me, and I slipped it on. I flipped the phone open and scrolled down to Haoa’s cell number. He picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, brah.” I started coughing again.

“Kimo? Hey, brah, where are you?”

“I’m still back here. What’s up with Dad?”

“They want to keep him overnight, run some tests. Everybody else is okay— Lui is still over by you somewhere, running his coverage, but Mom and Tatiana and Liliha are all here. Mom has been shaking down half the hospital around trying to find out what happened to you.”

“I’ve gotta stay here for a while. You guys be okay?”

“We’ll hold it together. Liliha says if you see Lui, send him home.”

“Like he’ll do anything I say,” I said, laughing and coughing at the same time. I heard Haoa laughing too. “Hey, brah.”

“Yeah?”

I didn’t know where to start. How do you thank your brother for being there for you? It’s just what brothers do. It’s what we expect of each other, what makes the love between us so fierce, and also what makes us want to rip each other’s hair out from time to time. “Thanks,” I said. “Just thanks.”

“I hear you, brah. Aloha.”

I said good night and then scanned the crowd, looking for any face I recognized. Unexpectedly, I saw Lieutenant Sampson, incongruously wearing a suit and tie. Next to him was a tall, blonde young woman I recognized from the photograph on his desk. I started walking toward him, happy to see that my legs had begun to respond again. By taking deep breaths I was able to control the churning in my stomach, and the colored pinwheels seemed to be dying away. The jackhammer I figured I’d have to live with for a while.

“I thought it would be you, Kanapa’aka,” Lieutenant Sampson said. “I was driving Kitty home and I heard the report of this blast on the scanner. I couldn’t figure out at first how one of my detectives was already on the scene even before the fire department. I had to come by and see for myself.”

He introduced his daughter. “Kitty just made the dean’s list at UH. Tonight was our celebration. She got to pick the place, so of course she chose a restaurant that made me wear a coat and tie.”

“That explains it,” I said.

“I give the guy ties every time there’s a holiday and he never wears them,” Kitty said with a smile. “I just want to know that what I do is appreciated.”

The tie in question was a Gianni Versace, with its signature icon dead center, in a red and blue stripe. I’m not a big tie guy, like the Lieutenant, but I’d have worn that one.

Sampson grinned and then turned back to me. “So tell me what happened here.”

“We had some trouble with protesters, and I was outside with them.” I gave him a quick rundown of the evening. “I gave my cell phone and my badge to my brother and told him to call it in and then I went inside.”

“So I understand,” Sampson said. “You were lucky, Kanapa’aka. You were able to get inside and get that woman, and get out in time. They could just as easily be pulling your body out of there now, as well as the Vice Mayor’s.”

“Shira? I looked around for him when I was inside but I didn’t see him.”

“Looks like he was the only fatality, so far. Which makes this a homicide case as well as a fire department investigation.”

I wanted to work the case myself. I wanted to find the bastards who blew up my friends and my family, who didn’t care if any of us lived or died. I’d do it on my own time, work nights or weekends. I wanted to make sure the people responsible got what they deserved. I realized I had already assumed I’d be investigating, and I’d started thinking about how to do it.

“I’ve got some ideas about this,” I told Sampson. “I want to check out all the groups that have opposed this legislation. See if any of their members have criminal records. Find out where their money comes from, what their motives are.”

Sampson held up his hand. “You’re assuming you’re investigating this case. You’re not on duty tonight. You aren’t even on this shift.”

I stopped short. “I’ve got to work this case, Lieutenant. You’ve got to give it to me. If you don’t, I’ll… I’ll…”

“You won’t do anything without my authorization.” Sampson stood there menacingly, taller and bigger than I was, my boss, the man who had saved me when it didn’t look like there would be a job left to me on the force. I stared right back at him, forgetting about everything else. He blinked first. “But I’ve got enough troubles without trying to hold you back when you want to investigate. Steve Hart pulled this case, but I’m sure he’d turn it over to you, considering how many open cases he’s got.”

I remembered I had a few open cases of my own, starting with Hiroshi Mura. “You tell Hart I said it’s all right.” Sampson turned to his stepdaughter. “Wait for me in the car, will you?” She looked like she was going to give him an argument, but then she caved.

“Good night, detective,” she said. “Good luck.”

He waited until she was out of earshot and said, “You know what kind of a case this is going to be, don’t you? High profile.”

“I understand.”

“I want to make sure you do. We’ve got a prominent victim, so City Hall is going to be all over this investigation. It’s got a news hook—this gay marriage thing.” He looked at me. “And then there’s you. You’re not exactly low profile yourself.”

“There hasn’t been any coverage of me since I got back from the North Shore. I’ve been keeping my nose clean, concentrating on my job.”

“But the media is going to come after you again, you’ve got to realize that. You’re the gay cop, investigating a gay crime. You prepared for that?”

“I’ll have to be.”

“All right, then.” He nodded his head toward where the Medical Examiner’s truck was parked. “Looks like your victim’s on his way out. You’d better take a look.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant.” I reached out to shake his hand, and realized mine was grimy with smoke and pavement dust, but he took it anyway, and shook it.

“Be careful,” he said.