Unknown Victim Kay Hadashi (the unexpected everything txt) 📖

stuck by a needle. The interesting thing is that he’s wearing the same type of windbreaker as the dead man I found on my porch. In fact, I think it might be the same exact one.”

“What makes you think that?” he asked.

“The lawn clippings here at Kapalama are similar to what was on the dead man’s shoes. This park is within easy walking distance of both Bunzo’s and Pinoy Boy’s. One of the guys I talked to earlier said the picture of him looked familiar. And Jon-Jon ID’d him as Danny boy. Does that sound familiar?”

“Who’s Jon-Jon?”

“The stoned guy, who just happens to be falling over.” Gina hurried to grab him before he ended up on the ground. She spread him out on the picnic table bench. “He’s not doing so good.”

“I have a car rolling there right now. Tell me again why you’re hanging around Kapalama so early in the morning?”

“Nothing else better to do,” she said.

“Than hang around with homeless stoners?”

“Do you know anyone named Danny boy or not?”

“Miss Santoro, it’s the first day of the year. Why not start it memorably with a walk along Waikiki Beach? Get some salt water on your shins and sand between your toes.”

“Maybe later. Thanks for taking my call.”

A police squad car was just parking in the small lot near her Datsun. There was a difference between conducting her own little investigation into the dead man’s identity, and getting involved with whatever drama was going to play out at the picnic table between the cops, Jon-Jon, and a cranky redhead. As they searched the area for someone that was reported stoned, she watched from the corner of the restroom until they found him. They went through the usual routine she’d learned in training, of how to identify if someone is breathing, or possibly dead. When Jon-Jon didn’t come around, one of them got on his phone and made a call, Gina guessing for a paramedic. Through it all, the redhead stood and badgered the patrol officers about bothering Jon-Jon, the cops doing their best to ignore her.

All in all, Gina had got more than what she had expected at the park. As long as she was out, and now that it was mid-morning, she wanted to make another stop in Kapalama. After going through the start sequence in the old Datsun, she got it going in the direction of Bunzo’s. There was something about the place that didn’t add up the night before. The bartenders had too many handy explanations to her questions.

When she drove past Bunzo’s, the front door was open and a car was parked in the lot. Instead of parking, she took a few laps through the neighborhood to get a feel for morning life in Kapalama. It was quiet for being in the middle of a big city. Passing by Bunzo’s again, she parked a block away where someone wouldn’t see the Datsun if they watched her leave. She hadn’t been on many stakeouts, but she knew enough to have a better view of the person being watched than they had of her, and that included her vehicle.

Getting back to the bar, a man was in the corner of the parking lot collapsing cardboard shipping boxes and stuffing them into a recycling bin one by one. He was wearing cargo shorts and a long sleeved T-shirt, the kind she’d seen on surfers in the last few days. Instead of going into the bar, she went to him. He wasn’t the same guy that she’d met the night before, the one that identified as being the daytime bartender and owner of the place. She did recognize him as being one of the bartenders there the night before, mostly involved with making blender drinks.

“Hey. Do you work here?”

“No, I like playing with boxes.” He used a box cutter to slice the tape that held a liquor shipping box together. “Why?”

Gina was already getting tired of everybody in Kapalama being a wise guy. She showed him the picture of the dead guy on her phone. “I’m trying to identify a guy that might’ve been a patron of your fine establishment.”

After a quick glance at her phone, he turned away to stuff flattened boxes into the bin. “What’s so special about him?”

“He’s dead.”

“Weren’t you here last night asking questions?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Why are you back so soon?”

“I’m still looking for answers that make sense,” she said.

“Why’re you looking for a dead guy?”

“I’ve already found him. I just need to know his name.”

“And you think I know the name of every patron that comes to my fine establishment?”

What Gina didn’t understand was why he wasn’t asking if she were a cop, like everyone else she met. “I think you’re a smart guy that knows more about running a bar than busting up cardboard boxes.”

“Maybe I do.” He stomped on a box to flatten it rather than slice it open with his box cutter. “Let me see the picture again.”

Keeping one eye on the box cutter in his hand, Gina held out her phone at arm’s length.

“Looks like a guy that used to hang around occasionally.”

“His name?”

“Might’ve been Danny.”

“He hung around to drink?” she asked.

“Isn’t that what fine establishments like mine are for?”

“Usually. What’d he drink?”

The man stomped on another box. “When he had money, he’d have a beer.”

“What if he didn’t have money?”

“Maybe a cup of coffee, maybe some water. He always came in during morning hours. I didn’t mind so much if he sat at the bar and behaved himself, as long as no other patrons were in my fine establishment at the time.”

Gina knew someone was lying to her. This guy was making it sound like he was the daytime bartender, while the one she talked to the night before reported he worked there during the daytime. One of them was lying to her, and maybe both.

“You booted him out if a customer came in?”

“After a while, he knew to leave, that his morning wouldn’t end well if he tried sticking around