The old woman was not sitting on the second-floor lānai, glowering down on her domain, when Chan and Hank Lee pulled up to the house on Algaroba Street. As the two approached, they saw an older Asian man sitting in the garage.
“Hello,” said Chan, pulling out his badge. “My name is David Chan with HPD. Are you Harvey Wong?”
The man stopped what he was doing and stared at Chan for a long moment. “No,” he said. “That’s my son.”
“Ah, I see,” said Chan, is your son home?”
The man was cleaning a rifle. He did not respond.
“Nice rifle,” said Hank Lee. “That a .30-30?”
Looking up again, the man said, “Yeah, and Harvey’s not home.”
Chan said, “You a hunter, Mr. Wong?”
The man put down the gun and picked up a can of Budweiser. “Some,” he said. “I like to go neighbor islands and hunt when I can.”
“Cheaper to hunt here,” said Chan.
“Yeah,” said Mr. Wong, “sure. But I like places more wild than here. Too much people taking over too much land. O‘ahu, you hunt, bumbye you shoot somebody.”
“By accident,” said Chan, “of course.”
Mr. Wong smiled. “Right right. Accidental.” He sipped his beer.
“Can you tell me where Harvey is right now?”
“Work most likely.”
“Where’s he work?”
“Around. Odd jobs. Whatever he can find. Mow lawn, wash windows. He no like stay one place. Antsy, my boy.”
Chan nodded. “Okay, good. So, no idea where today?”
Mr. Wong shook his head. “Nope.”
“Do you have a picture of your son?”
Pausing in mid-sip, Mr. Wong cocked his head to one side and looked at Chan, almost as if he was taking aim. “What’s it all about?” he asked.
“Ah, we’re investigating a case,” said Chan, “and your son might have been a witness to the crime.
He could help us out, we think.
But if I’m going to locate him, while he’s out working around, I need to know what he looks like.”
Mr. Wong nodded. “So you not going to arrest him?”
“Oh no no no,” said Chan. “If I can talk to your son, I think he can be a big, big help to us.”
“Okay, that’s good,” said Mr. Wong, putting down his beer and standing up. “Lemme go find one.”
Chan and Hank Lee watched the man disappear inside.
“What do you think?” asked Hank Lee.
“About . . . ?”
“About the son not being here. You said the woman told you the same thing.”
“Right, right,” said Chan, “but you’re thinking that they’re both lying.”
Hank Lee nodded. “Call it a hunch.”
Mr. Wong came back out.
“Sorry, I thought I had his graduation picture, but – ”
“David,” said Hank Lee, elbowing him. “Look”
Both Chan and Mr. Wong turned to look in the direction Hank Lee was pointing. A man clambered out a window, and even though Chan could not see his face, the man was running as best he could, despite a noticeable limp.
“Damn,” said Chan, knowing even though the man wasn’t sprinting, that neither he nor the recuperating coroner would be able to run after him.
“Mr. Wong,” said Chan. “That is your son, isn’t it? That’s Harvey.”
“Stupid idiot. Yeah, that’s him.”
“That’s obstruction, do you know that?” said Chan. “I could arrest you right now.”
“Don’t forget aiding and abetting,” added Hank Lee.
“But,” said Mr. Wong, “you said you like talk to him because he could help you.”
“Yes,” said Chan, “that’s what I said. And getting ahold of him would definitely help this case.”
“So why you would arrest me? I don’t know why Harvey ran like that.”
Chan stared at Mr. Wong. He had the feeling the man was hiding something. “Why’d you tell me he wasn’t home? Why lie about that?”
Mr. Wong said nothing.
“Hank,” said Chan, “please go in and telephone Chin. Tell him we need an officer posted here in case Harvey Wong comes back.”
While the coroner went to call, Chan said, “As for you, Mr. Wong, I caution you – and your wife – not to do anything further to impede this investigation. Do you, or do you not have a photo of your son.”
Mr. Wong hung his head.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll go get it.”
Chan, feeling a little woozy, took a seat. Hank Lee was first out.
“Chin is sending someone, David.” He took a seat as well. “He’s a hunter, David. Hunters have hunting knives.”
Chan nodded. “Big ones, sometimes with those serrated edges. I wonder if Harvey’s a hunter, too?”
Mr. Wong came out the door with a photo in his hand. Chan’s heart rate jumped up, and he held his breath in anticipation of already knowing exactly what Harvey looked like.
As he handed over the photo, Mr. Wong said, “This is the only one,” I think.
One look and Chan’s heart began to pound like Buddy Rich at fever pitch. Just as he had suspected, Harvey was the man in his dreams.
“Is it the guy you saw?” asked Hank Lee.
“Jesus, yes,” said Chan.
But there was more.
“Who’s this?” Chan asked, pointing to the other man in the photo.
“That’s his brother,” said Mr. Wong. “That’s Harry. Him and Harvey, they twins.”
“Mr. Wong. Does Harry live here, too?”
“No, not for a long time.”
Chan studied the man’s face. “You’re not lying about that too, are you?”
Mr. Wong shook his head. “No no no. Harry moved out long time ago.”
“Where to?”
“I don’t know, I swear. I never see him long time.”
Satisfied he was telling the truth, Chan turned to see a patrol car pull into the driveway. After filling the officer in and showing him the photo, Chan spoke to Mr. Wong again.
“If you or your wife hear anything about the whereabouts of either one of your sons, you tell Officer McGarrett immediately. If you don’t, I will arrest both of you, understood?”
Mr. Wong nodded.
Walking toward Hank Lee’s car, Chan said, “I need to go home and lie down. I think I’m going to pass out.”
Lanning Lee 