Kelso pulled up behind Officer McGarrett’s squad car. He and Hank Lee walked along on either side of Chan as he approached the Wong’s house.
“Geez,” said Hank, “that guy must have the cleanest rifle in town.”
Indeed, Mr. Wong sat in his garage working on the same .30-30 rifle he’d been cleaning the day before. He gave the trio a disgusted look.
McGarrett had exited his car and was standing a few steps behind and to the left of Hank Lee and Kelso.
“Mr. Wong,” said Chan, stepping into the garage, “good to see you again. May I sit?”
Wong grunted and gave a curt nod toward a beat-up old couch. Chan sat. Hank and Chin stood behind him.
“Mr. Wong,’ said Chan, “I want to get right to the point. You were a person of interest in a couple of fires in 1938 and 1939. That is correct, is it not.?”
Wong lowered the rifle. “So what? Nobody pinned shit on me. I never set those fires.”
“Uh-huh,” said Chan, “we know that, but might you be aware that we’re currently investigating two fires, one, at least, barring a direct relation to you. I have some bad news for you, Mr. Wong. Your son Harry was killed in a fire in Kaimukī.”
A cry came from inside the house. Chan realized that Mrs. Wong had been listening at the kitchen window. She opened the door and came into the garage.
“What? My Harry? Are you sure?”
“Yes, Ma’am, I’m very sure. Not only was he killed in the fire, but he was stabbed before he was doused with gasoline.”
Mrs. Wong let out another howl. “Oh my God,” she said, turning to her husband. “What you did to my boy?”
Mr. Wong growled. “Shut your damn mouth, Momma.”
“What is it, Mrs. Wong?” asked Chan. “What do you mean by that?”
“All the time they used to make fires,” she said. “All the time they liked to watch.”
Mr. Wong jumped up and made a move toward his wife. “I said shut the fuck up, you.”
At the same moment that he lunged for her, Mrs. Wong produced a large carving knife she’d carried with her from the kitchen. Mr. Wong froze.
Chin ran forward to come between them. McGarrett rushed forward as well, revolver drawn.
“Hold it, hold it, hold it!” shouted Chan. “Everybody hold on here. Mr. Wong, sit down. Mrs. Wong, please give the knife to Sergeant Kelso.”
Mrs. Wong, sobbing, handed the knife to Chin. “All my life,” she wailed, “all my life he force my boys to do fires. Now he killed my baby.”
Chan said, “Killed your baby. Do you mean, Mrs. Chan, that you believe your husband killed Harry?”
“Of course, he did,” she said, staggering back toward the kitchen doorway and sitting down hard on the stair. “Harry said he was going to tell on him.”
Again Mr. Wong screamed at top volume for his wife to stop talking.
Kelso drew his revolver and walked over to Mr. Wong. “Sir, I advise you neither to speak or move again until we tell you to do so, do you understand me?”
The largest Chinese Chan had ever met, Kelso towered over Mr. Wong. The man cowered in the sergeant’s shadow.
“Tell what about him?” asked Chan.
“That lady,” said Mrs. Wong. “The one helping Harvey now. He killed her.”
“What lady?” asked Chan.
“The counselor doctor, the new, what you call it, therapist. She talks to Harvey and help him live right in his head.”
Chan took this in. “You mean Dr. Komine? Dr. Komine is Harvey’s therapist?”
“Yeah yeah, her. Harry’s girlfriend. She said she could help Harvey. Hard time, he has, since his stroke. Depression li’dat so many years. She was trying for help Harvey.”
Mr. Wong growled again but did not move.
“Why do you say your husband killed her?”
“Harvey told her. He told her about how he helped burn buildings. Harvey, Harry, and him,” she said, pointing at her husband. “And he made them do it.”
“But, Mrs. Wong, Dr. Komine couldn’t tell anyone,” said Chan. “She couldn’t tell that to the police. People who do her kind of work aren’t allowed to talk about what their clients tell them.”
“That’s what Harry told us,” she said, “but he no believe. He said canna trust her to keep quiet. When Harvey told him what he said to her, he said he going kill her.”
“So you all lied about not being in touch with Harry,” said Chan.
“He told us to say that,” said Mrs. Wong. “He said bettah we lie and make like we don’t see Harry long time already. And now he killed my baby,” she screamed.
Mr. Wong roared. Chin produced a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. As he reached them toward Mr. Wong, the man grabbed for Chin’s gun. Chin stepped backward, and the man shot his wife. At the same moment, McGarett fired at Mr. Wong.
Husband and wife fell to the garage floor. Chan stayed seated as Chin felt for Mr. Wong’s pulse. Hank Lee did the same for Mrs. Wong.
“He’s gone,” said Kelso.
“Her too,” said Hank Lee.
“What the hell?” said Chan.
Lanning Lee 