Mahu Blood (27 page)

“Don’t I get a kiss?” Mike grabbed Gunter and planted a big one on his lips.

I was astonished. Mike doesn’t like public displays of affection, and he doesn’t like Gunter either. But I guessed the big dogs were trying to show each other up. Gunter seemed surprised by the kiss and even more by Mike’s hand squeezing his ass, but he rallied.

“I just might start to like you,” he said.

He turned and introduced us to Ira, a balding man in his sixties with a fringe of graying hair like a medieval monk.

“Gunter said you might be coming. Welcome.”

He hugged me and kissed me on both cheeks, but Mike short-circuited his own hug by sticking out his hand for a shake.

“I’m Mike. Kimo’s partner.”

“Great to meet you,” Ira said. “Come on in. We’ve got hot dogs and burgers grilling over there, swimming in the pool.

Dance if you want, or just hang out and enjoy the vibe.”

Another group of guys, mostly in their twenties, were dancing, but most were standing around talking in small groups, drinking MAhu BLood
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beer from a keg. We’d brought a tub of cookies from Costco, and we dropped them on a folding table already groaning with potato salad, chicken wings, rice and potato chips.

It looked more like a church social of the kind I’d gone to as a kid with my folks, though everyone was male and there were no children playing. Gunter was deep in conversation with a gray-haired guy in his fifties who was thin to the point of anorexia, so Mike and I got a couple of beers and started making the rounds.

“Not exactly a den of iniquity,” I said to Mike.

A group of a half-dozen men, mixed ages, was standing near the cabin whispering to each other as we walked up. I figured they were gossiping about me, sharing the news that there was a cop on the property.

A forty-something guy with tousled brown hair stepped up as we got close. “Hey, Kimo, great to see you!” he said, enveloping me in another hug.

“Thanks. Ummm….”

“I’m Roy. We met a couple of years ago through the Hawai’i Gay Marriage Project.”

“Oh yeah. Good to see you, too.” I introduced Mike, and we met the rest of the guys.

“You’re not here to bust us for a little pakalolo, are you,” Roy asked, only half joking.

“Not my job. I won’t join you, but I won’t stop you, either.”

A young guy in the group pulled a joint from behind his back and took a drag, and the crowd laughed. We all stood around for a while, talking about ordinary stuff—the weather, new movies and so on.

A Chinese guy discovered Mike was a fireman and wanted to hear all about his job. Mike told great stories, and quickly he had the whole group hanging on his every word.

I was happy to see Mike relaxed in a group of gay men.

When we first met, he was so deep in the closet that he was uncomfortable around anyone who might be gay, afraid that
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something in his behavior would betray his secret. My high profile in the gay community was very tough for him back then, but he was getting more and more relaxed.

Mike and the Chinese guy went off to get some more beers for the crowd, and I thought the vibe with the group was comfortable enough to say, “I’m working on a case, and I was hoping somebody up here might be able to give me a lead. Any of you heard about a guy who picks men up at clubs like The Garage and then mugs them?”

“The Garage is sleazy,” one guy said.

“And that’s bad?” Roy said, laughing.

None of them knew anything concrete, though one guy said he’d heard some rumors. I gave him my card and asked him to get back to me if he heard anything more. Mike and the Chinese guy brought back the beers, and we all chatted for a few minutes more. Then I saw Gunter motioning me over.

“This is Simi,” he said, introducing us to the thin guy with him, who looked Thai. “Tell Kimo what you were telling me.”

Simi frowned and clutched his hands together.

“Anything you tell me stays confidential. And maybe with your help I can catch whoever’s doing this and make it stop.”

“I was at The Garage about six months ago.” Simi pushed a tear from his eye with his right knuckle. “It’s stupid. I was stupid.

This guy picked me up, and I took him home with me. But before we could do anything, he hit me. I fell down and passed out for a couple of minutes.”

Gunter reached around and hugged Simi. “This is good,” he said. “Let it out.”

“When I woke up, he was gone, and so was my wallet, all my jewelry, my laptop computer and my portable CD player.”

“You make a police report?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I was too embarrassed. I cancelled my credit cards, got a new license. I just wanted to put it all behind me.”

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“Can you describe the guy?”

“Haole, maybe thirties, blue dragon tattooed on his right arm.”

A blue dragon tattoo. Just like the one that Dexter Trale had.

But I put that idea aside for a moment and focused on Simi.

“Anything more?”

“Very skinny,” Simi said. “And very sexy. Very masculine, you know? The dominant type.”

“You think you could recognize him again, if I showed you some mug shots?”

Simi pursed his lips together and nodded. “But I wouldn’t have to see him again, would I?”

“I can’t promise anything. But for now, you’d just look at pictures. And after that, we might ask you to pick him out of a lineup, but you’d be behind glass and he wouldn’t see you.”

He nodded again. I took down his full name, which was very long, and his contact information.

By the time we were finished with Simi, the smell of the hot dogs and hamburgers had made us all starving. Gunter, Mike and I filled up plates and sat on the grass.

“You had those guys eating out of your hand,” I said to Mike. I turned to Gunter. “He loves anybody who’ll listen to his stories.”

Mike kicked me and we all laughed. As we were finishing, two older men came by, naked, running for the pool.

“Come on, Gunter,” one called as they passed. “Everybody in the water!”

Gunter jumped up. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” He skinned off his T-shirt, kicked off his rubber slippers and dropped his tiny white shorts, then took off after them.

“Gunter can set a land speed record for getting out of his clothes.” I looked over at Mike and saw his dick stiffening under his shorts. I smirked and asked, “You enjoying the view?”

Gunter’s naked body disappeared under the surface of the water,
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coming back up to romp with one of the younger guys.

Mike shifted his empty plate over his lap.

“You make a big show out of being straight-laced, but you’re just like me,” I said. “You have a dick, and you like to use it.”

“I don’t like being naked in public. It reminds me of the locker room in high school. I was always scared I’d get a boner in the shower, from all those naked guys around me.”

“You were scared they’d know you were gay,” I said, “but I’ve got a news flash for you. Everybody here knows. They knew it the minute you walked in and introduced yourself to Ira as my partner.”

“Your point?”

“So what else are you scared of? Me? Are you scared if I get naked out here I’ll end up making out or fucking some random guy?”

He looked away.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You still don’t trust me.”

It felt like the day had gotten a lot colder. I had struggled to trust Mike around alcohol; it still made me a little nervous to see him with a beer in his hand, knowing the trouble he’d had in the past. But I believed in him, and I knew it wouldn’t help him to think I was watching every bottle he drank.

It had to work both ways. If he didn’t trust my commitment, if he was going to get jealous every time I was around other gay men, that was going to be a big stumbling block.

He locked eyes with me. I didn’t know what he was going to say, but I was scared. Suppose he admitted that he’d never trust me? What would I say? Could I live that way?

Very slowly, he reached down and pulled his T-shirt over his head. A drop of sweat glistened between his hairy pecs. He smiled and stood up.

“Come on, baby,” he said. “Let’s go for a swim.”

Big eAgeR PuPPy

The guys in the pool hooted as we approached, both of us naked and hard and holding hands.

“Young love,” Ira said, as we stepped into the water and submerged under the surface.

The water was cold, and as cold water does, it shrank the equipment quickly. We laughed and talked with the Māhū Nation guys, roughhousing a little, splashing and dunking.

“I see what you see in Mike now,” Gunter whispered to me.

“You never saw him naked before?”

“How was I going to? You’ve never invited me for a threesome.”

“And we never will,” Mike said.

Gunter splashed the surface of the pool in mock petulance.

We laughed, and Mike tackled him, dragging him under the water.

By the time we left the pool, we were both relaxed and happy.

We had both bumped up against various naked body parts under the water, and our relationship had survived intact.

I remembered again that Mike was my best friend, not just my partner. We spent a couple of hours at the picnic, then climbed back to the Jeep late in the afternoon. By the time we pulled into the driveway, my body was still damp and clammy and I was worried that scum had penetrated some intimate parts.

“Feel like a shower, stud?” I asked, as I unlocked the front door.

Roby tackled both of as the door swung open.

“You beast,” Mike said. “Get down!”

The shower had to wait a few minutes, until Roby had emptied his bladder and romped around the yard, but it was worth waiting for. Mike and I had an awesome connection; I already knew that.

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But sex in the shower that evening was among the hottest we’d ever experienced, leaving us both drained and satisfied.

Lying in bed later, Mike on his back snoring gently next to me, I thought about how Mike had changed his mind and decided to go skinny-dipping—but there was more underneath that. It was like he’d relaxed somehow and come to trust me more. That was important, and it could only mean good things for our future together.

Roby padded into the bedroom, turned around a couple times on the floor next to my side of the bed and then settled to the ground. With my little ohana around me, I went to sleep, too.

My subconscious must have been telling me something, because I dreamed of dragons, and when I woke up on Labor Day morning I decided to follow a hunch and see if Dexter Trale, who had a dragon tattoo, was the guy who had picked up Simi at The Garage and then mugged him.

I was too antsy to wait until the next day to bring Simi in to headquarters to look at a photo array, though. If Dex was the guy who attacked Simi, then that made it more likely that Dex was the guy who’d picked up O’Malley the night he was killed. I thought it was a good idea to show that array to the bartender at The Garage, too, so I dug through my notes and found his name.

I left Mike playing with Roby and drove into headquarters, where I assembled a bunch of shots of Dex and similar-looking men. I tracked down both guys, going to Simi at his apartment in Pearl City first.

“That’s him,” he said immediately, pointing at Dexter. “How come you have his picture? Has he done this to other men?”

“Yeah. I think he has.”

Sadly, I didn’t think we could prosecute Dex for the attack on Simi. It had happened too long before, and he hadn’t reported it at the time. But if we could nail Dex for O’Malley’s murder, that would be put him away for a lot longer than a simple assault.

I drove over to the bartender’s apartment next, but he couldn’t give me a definite ID.

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“Sorry,” he said, shrugging. “It’s dark in the bar, and I’m usually swamped.” He put three of the photos in a single line and looked at them again. “It could be any one of these three.”

He did include Dex in that trio, but that wasn’t something I could take to a judge.

By the time I got back home, Mike was waiting, ready to go out to an afternoon movie and an early dinner, and it wasn’t until we were about to walk out the door that he said, “I asked my mom and dad to come with us. I hope that’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay—but I had dragged Mike to dinner with Terri and Levi, to my parents’ even to the Māhū Nation picnic, and it was time for me to do something for him. I could suffer an afternoon of his father’s frosty disdain and his mother’s aloofness if I had to.

So I said, “Fine with me, sweetheart.”

When we walked outside, his father was picking a few tiny weeds from the pikake bed in front of their side of the house.

Fragrant white flowers were dotted among the lustrous green vines, which Dr. Riccardi had trained to grow on a wooden frame.

He was meticulous about pruning and fertilizing them—as he was about everything. I thought it was evidence of his controlling temperament, but Mike insisted it was just a nice hobby.

His father is almost as tall as Mike, with the same black hair and dark eyes. But Mike’s face has been tempered by the Korean influence of his mother. His father’s face is narrow and angular, his cheekbones sharp. Mike’s chin is rounder than his father’s, and his thick black mustache contrasts his father’s clean shave.

Dr. Riccardi stood up and wiped his hands on a moistened wipe that Mike’s mother handed him. Mike kissed his mom, leaving me and his father facing each other awkwardly.

“Hi, Dr. Riccardi.” I reached out to shake his hand.

He shook my hand, his palm still damp, and then we switched and I kissed Mrs. Riccardi’s cheek. She had a heart-shaped face, with her own dark hair pulled back. I’d seen pictures of her as a young woman, when she was strikingly beautiful, and even over
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fifty she was still lovely. Mike came from good genes.

“We’ve been thinking, Kimo,” Dr. Riccardi said, as he unlocked the Mercedes sedan. “Soon-O and I know you have your own parents, so we wouldn’t expect you to call us Mom and Dad. But we were hoping you could call us by our first names.”