When I come to this time, I recognize the Pier 13 warehouse. But I’m not lying on the ground. This chair is padded, comfortable, like the La-Z-Boy in my living room.
I also recognize the man sitting across from me.
“Victor, that is you, right?”
“Eh, David, you know it’s not me, right?”
“Not you? Don’t tell me. You’re a ghost, right?”
“Well, yes and no. I mean you know this isn’t me because, yeah, I’m dead. But am I a ghost if you dreaming about me?”
This gives me pause. “I guess maybe not. But you know I’ve wondered about your visits in the past. Usually I’ve had a few shots, and I think I’ve been drowsing when I quote see you unquote.”
“Eh, boss, up to you. I’m a ghost, I’m something you imagining, whatevahs.”
“Yes, right, the main thing is I think you’re here. I guess. But this warehouse, you know – or maybe you don’t – it burned down. With me in it. I was supposed to die in that fire.”
Victor smiled. “Surprise, uh? You lucky someone dragged you out of here.”
“Ah, somebody? Don’t tell me I’m supposed to believe it was you?”
“Ha! Good one. No, sorry, ghost or figment of your imagination, I can’t do things like that.”
He waves his hand over the table and a beer appears in front of me. “But I can do that. Primo, your favorite. Suck ‘um up.”
“Wow, thanks, partner.” I lift the stubby, brown bottle and sip. It tastes real. “This is without a doubt the best dream I’ve had in this place so far, Vic.”
“Plus your head don’t hurt, right?”
“Right. So you know about all the head poundings.”
“Yup. Victor Yamamoto knows all.”
This makes me curious. “All?”
“Well, it’s a good line, uh? Maybe, but maybe not.”
“You know about the case related to this warehouse? All the people I’ve been meeting in here?”
“Um, yes. I am in your head, David.”
“Right, right.”
“I’m here maybe not because I know everything, but because we’re having a think-through convo about what’s been going down.”
“Oh, okay, that’s good. You start.”
“All right, boss, here’s one. You know, some parents are pretty crappy. Like me, for instance. I wasn’t there for my daughter growing up.”
“But that wasn’t your fault, Vic. Byung Yu, he took your family away from you. What could you do?”
“I should have killed him. So thanks for that.”
That makes me feel uncomfortable, for both of us. But it’s true. If it hadn’t been for Byung Yu, Vic might have been a terrific father.
“Anyway,” Victor continues, “some parents are the worst. The stuff they do to their kids, sheez, we canna believe how bad it is.”
He pauses.
“What some parents teach their kids, it’s bad, David.”
“Soooo . . . ?”
“Think about it, bruddah. Parents. The bad habits they pass down.”
And just like that my dead partner vanishes, and Kelso and Hank are standing over me.
“Am I awake?”
“Yes, David, you’re back in the land of the living,” says Hank. “Wait until you hear what Chin found out.”
I manage to push myself up against the headboard.
“David, the guy house-sitting for Jason Li‘ikini, it was Harry Wong, the other son. We’ve confirmed it. He’s the body we found in Kaimukī.”
“One son murdered, the other one on the run. And murdered in the same way as Jasmine Komine, stabbed in the stomach with a large knife, then set on fire.”
“Any ideas, boss?”
“Yeah, Kelso, something we overlooked. Not only do we need to do a background check on the twins, but we need to do it on the dad. And, for that matter, the mom?”
Kelso asks, “The dad and the mom? For real?”
“Yes, Chin, for real. I think they might be the kind of parents who pass on their bad habits to their children.”
Kelso and Hank both give me curious looks.
“Guys, you’ve heard that line ‘the sins of the father’, haven’t you?”
They both nod.
“Well, that line came to me just now. In my dream.”
They look at each other and nod.
“It’s a sign, so go, Chin, go.”
Chin shakes his head, then takes off to run the background checks.
“Hank, can you do me a favor and call HU? Just out of curiosity, please ask if a Harry Wong is teaching in the math department.”
Hank heads for the phone. My head doesn’t hurt, that’s great, but when I try to get out of bed, I’m still too dizzy to stand up.
The sins of the father. I shake my head. Thanks, Victor. Ghost, figment of my imagination, whatever it may be. It’s good to have someone to talk things over with sometimes.
Lanning Lee 