It began on a sunny, blue-skyed Monday morning. According to the blind magazine vendor on the ground floor of the Pacific Realty & Life Building, Robert Enfield had sounded quite chipper as he purchased his three-day-old copy of the Wall Street Journal, off-island periodicals taking a day or more to reach distant Honolulu.
Enfield had stopped into the main office as well, also located on the ground floor, to collect any Saturday mail. He’d chatted too with Annette Rodriguez, the main office secretary, about a successful on-the-spot offer of ten percent over the asking price at an open house the day before.
When Monday for most people seems the most dreadful workday of the week, for Mr. Enfield, at least on this particular Monday, it did not seem so at all.
So it was a great wonder that just before noon, Robert Enfield walked out on the 8th-floor balcony of his office and jumped to his death, splattering many in the rush of lunchtime activity, and narrowly missing crushing several people waiting at a bus stop.
An apparent suicide, Detectives Anderson and Kamemiya should have been sent to the scene, but as they were busy with another suicide case in Hawai‘i Kai. Chief of Ds Delbert Kauhane dispatched Detective Lieutenant David Chan and his partner, Detective Victor Yamamoto, normally assigned to homicide cases.
“One less Haole,” Yamamoto said, looking over the balcony railing at the HPD technicians below.
Chan shook his head. Victor hated everyone.
“How you figure,” said Yamamoto. “One realtor dies, so it’s that many fewer homes can be sold, which means less mainland Haoles can live here. Works that way or what?”
Chan found this a little bit funny.
“David, you wish, right?”
“Well,” said Chan, “given that jets have replaced prop planes, there are more and more people visiting us here in paradise, which means that more and more of them are falling in love with paradise, which means more and more of them are buying homes here. There’s actually a housing shortage now.”
“Yeah, it sucks,” said Yamamoto. “I can hardly believe what the Visitors’ Bureau says. Every day, right now, dozens of Haoles are flying in with the intention of moving here. It stinks like hell for locals. Makes you wonder, yeah, if our kids goin’ be able to buy homes here, the way prices are going up.”
The two stepped back inside.
Yamamoto said, “Odd, yeah, no note.”
The two had done a thorough search, but had found no suicide note.
“Yes, that’s odd all right,” said Chan. “It’s a rare thing when there’s no note. It’s so rare, I can’t remember a single case where there wasn’t a note. Can you, Vic?”
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Aloha #WriterSunday, I hope you are well and enjoying your weekend. Today’s #WritingPrompt is
Use the prompt to write something, short or long, any style, even a sentence or two, and then post what you wrote as a comment below. I would love to read what you wrote : )