“Pop, you got a regular Pacific Heights Hotel going on up here.”
“He’s here?” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Chan said, “Lanning, there was no need to tell you. I mean, if it were your dad, then I’d have said something.”
This stung more than I would have guessed. It was like I was sitting behind the Eight Ball now. Everything was pointing to yes, that this was my father. I hated it.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Bobby was watching him. Two men dressed as orderlies came into the room. They went for Bobby, one cutting his arm. That’s why the bandaged arm, Lanning, and the shiner. Other staff came into the room and the men took off. Bobby went after them, but they were gone.”
“So,” I said, “you’re saying they were there to kill him?”
“Oh boy, Pop, it’s another chance to get those Yus, huh?”
“Dave,” his dad said, “when you think about it, son, every day is another chance to get the Yus. If they aren’t involved in at least one crime a day of some kind, then you can be sure that Hell has frozen over and there are pigs buzzing Honolulu International Airport.”
“So,” I said, “you’re sure it’s the Yus?”
“No, I’m not saying that, Lanning, but they’re definitely suspects. The thing is, of course, that Grampa Yu is back in Korea, and, as I said, it appears his granddaughter is running the show here. But we all still know that even though Kang Yu is an old man, he’s probably calling all the shots. The question is, why kill that man? We still don’t even know who he is.”
“Pop, you gonna go confront his granddaughter?”
“Why, Dave, why would we do that? We have proof of nothing. It’s hard to get traction on a case against any crime suspect if you don’t have a motive.”
Dave said, “How about this guy here is here to kill Gi Yu and take over the family business cuz he knows Gramps Yu is senile so it’s a simple matter of offing Gi?”
“Dave, that would definitely be a top scenario, but as I say, without this guy’s story, we don’t have zip.”
Dave said, “And of course we have to figure in why they want to kill Lanning.”
Everything was so confusing. And the Korean syndicate wanted me dead on top of it. I didn’t know whether to be more frightened than confused at this point.
“Never mind this ‘we,’ buddy. But if it is the Yus,” said Chan, “I’m guessing they’re probably thinking that Lanning is related to this man, that the man is maybe Lanning’s father, and because of that, Lanning poses some threat as well. That’s all I can figure at this point.”
“This is bad news all the way around, Pop.”
“Well,” said Chan, “at least we have him and Lanning safe here.”
Dave stood. “I’m gonna clean up and get some sleep. I was in the ER last night and all morning.”
He disappeared downstairs.
Chan said, “Lanning, Dave’s room is the next one down the hall from yours after the bathroom. Have you eaten anything yet?”
“No, no, just a couple beers.”
“Feel like a late lunch or an early dinner?”
“No thanks, David. I think I’ll just head down and take a nap.”
I headed downstairs. As I lay on the bed, I looked around the room. The shelves were all books as well, but these were mostly art books, lots about photography. I guessed I was in Chan’s daughter’s former room.
The next thing I knew it was nearly dark. A low sun was filtering through the windows, and Chan was shaking me by the shoulder.
“Lanning, he’s awake. Come upstairs.”
A little groggy, I climbed the stairs behind the Lieutenant. We turned right down the hall by the kitchen and entered the room. It was larger than I imagined an office might be. The walls were plastered with all kinds of photographs and diagrams. I could see there were photos of bodies as well as of living people. Many were Koreans of all ages., both the living and the dead ones. There was a large chalkboard on one wall with all kinds of things scribbled on it.
The nurse was giving the man a sip of water through a straw. His head was propped up a little.
“Could you please leave us for a while,” Chan asked.
He pulled another chair up to the bedside and we both sat.
“Sir,” he said, “my name is Chan. I’m with the Honolulu Police Department. We have you resting in bed here. Do you remember what happened to you?”
The man mumbled something in Korean.
“I’m sorry,” said Chan, “can you say that in English. I don’t speak Korean.”
The man rolled his head to look first at the Lieutenant, then at me.
He smiled when he looked at me, then closed his eyes.
“I was shot,” he said, “I think. Then I think I saw my son Lanning.”
Chan turned to look at me. It felt to me like a “How does it feel to hear that” look. He nodded from me to him, encouraging me to speak.
I stared at the man, his eyes closed again. “Why do you say that?” I asked. “Why do you keep saying that I’m your son?”
* * * * *
Happy #WriterWednesday, I hope that you’re doing well as things try to return to some kind of normalcy. Today’s #WritingPrompt is
Use it to inspire a piece of writing of any kind, any length, and then post that piece as a comment below. I would love to read what you wrote : )