The final count was seven bodies including Mr. and Mrs. Goo and their oldest son Alfred.
Two concerns topped David Chan’s list. First, he wanted to find the other two brothers, Edward and Robert, the ones Nina Goo had described as deadbeats. Second, he hoped there was some way of identifying any of the cars seized in the garage.
When Chan arrived at the station, he was surprised to find Victor Yamamoto at his desk, bandaged head down on the blotter. His partner, he was sure, should be home resting, not back here at work.
“Vic,” Chan said, gently shaking him.
Yamamoto sat up. “Hey, David, what have we got?”
“Never mind that,” said Chan. “What’re you doing here?”
“Eh, someone shoots me and I’m not dead, I’m on his ass, David. What we got?” he asked again.
Against his better judgment, Chan discussed his two main concerns. Yamamoto refused to do anything other than work the case.
“Okay, Vic, I’ll do the leg work part and see if I can locate the brothers. You stay here and check on IDing the vehicles.”
Yamamoto agreed, immediately calling over to Impound to see what the lab people might have discovered.
Chan found one brother, Edward, in the phonebook. He headed to Kaimukī, 8th Avenue mauka, of Wai‘alae Avenue. The little one-story plantation-style house looked run-down compared to the others nearby, and the yard was badly overgrown.
He’d known the two younger brothers peripherally, watched them grow up at the restaurant too, but they were younger, so Chan hadn’t known them as he had Nina, because of their interactions at school. From his fleeting observations of the two, he’d not have guessed that they would necessarily turn out to be bums. They always seemed to work hard. But who knows how kids will come out in the end. He always had his fingers crossed for his own daughter and son.
Deadbeats don’t do yardwork, Chan thought, as he stepped up onto the veranda and knocked.
No response. Chan knocked loudly and called out, “Police. Anyone home?”
He tried the door, leaned on it in case it might pop open, but no luck. The two windows on each side of the front door would not budge.
Chan walked down into the yard and around the left side of the house, trying windows without success until he reached the back side. The back door was unlocked.
Stepping inside, Chan found himself in the kitchen. The sink area was lousy with unwashed dishes, and what he presumed was the primary dining table was littered with more plates and utensils.
Moving into the hallway, Chan saw doors on both sides. Now he drew his revolver. Carefully pushing open the first door on the right, he found himself in an absolutely filthy bathroom.
The door on the left opened into a large bedroom. Clothes were everywhere, the bed unmade, the stench of sweat.
The last door was on the right. Chan followed his gun into the room. This one, a smaller bedroom, was a mess too. The only difference was that a body lay on the bed. Chan recognized him as the youngest brother, Bobby. A cursory look had Chan thinking that there were two bullet wounds.
The hall opened up into a living room. In the middle of the room, Ed lay face up on the floor. This one was a single shot only, centered just above the eyes.
Chan ran the scene in his mind. One had been wounded, maybe here. Or came home wounded and died in bed. The other had, perhaps, been here, or perhaps had brought the other home. Either way, someone had shot the second here. A third-party murderer.
Picking up the phone, Chan dialed Yamamoto.
“Vic, you saw two men running through the fence into the parking lot, right? Did you recognize them?”
He had not.
“Would you know Edward and Bobby Goo if you saw them?”
He would not.
“Could you tell if either one of the runners was wounded?”
“I think maybe so, David. One was hunched over, holding his gut, maybe.”
“Well,” said Chan, “I got both brothers here at Ed’s house. Both shot, both dead, one murdered. I got a feeling one or both of um were the guys you saw. Then, too, one of them could’ve been the person who shot you. You didn’t see that one, right?”
“No, David, that bullet came from my right. I was looking left.”
Chan said, “No one in the parking lot mentioned anyone other than the two running. Nothing about a third person. The witnesses heard the shot and saw you go down. They all ran to you and didn’t pay attention to the two runners.”
“Must have been their driver, waiting for them, who shot me, David.”
* * * * *
Aloha #WriterWednesday. Today’s #WritingPrompt is actually two prompts
Use it to inspire a piece of writing, short of long, funny or not so much so, any style, and then post that piece on your site and link back to me, or simply post it as a comment below. I would love to read what you write : )