Wilbur “Snuffy” Apana had been Chan’s father’s partner on the force. The son of legendary law enforcement officer Chang Apana,
Snuffy had, like Chan Jr., followed in his father’s footsteps. Chang Apana’s partner on the force had been Chan Jr.’s equally legendary grandfather. The nickname “Snuffy” had been given to Wilbur because of his constant battle with allergies.
“Uncle Snuff, how did you know I was here?” asked Chan as he ushered his godfather into Kelso’s apartment.
“So this is Chin’s little cave,” said Apana, hands clasped behind his back while perusing the place.
Chan waited for an answer.
“David,” said Apana, “I understand from Del Kauhane that you and Chin are hot on the trail of an insurance fraud ring. He says you’re coming up fast on the head man.”
Even though Apana had retired six years before, he had a nose for crime, and this had him constantly coming to headquarters to keep his hand in the game. Approaching 70, he was still sharp. Chan admired this, but at the same time, he harbored mixed feelings about his father’s former partner.
When David Chan Sr. had disappeared in 1942, Apana, as his partner seeking vengeance, took the lead in investigating the case. David Jr., having joined the force with the express purpose of finding his father’s killers, had been frustrated on two fronts.
First, he quickly discovered that rookie cops had a long way to go before they became the detectives who investigated cases like his father’s murder, and second because he’d always felt that his godfather was never giving tracking down his father’s killers anywhere near the full intensity it demanded.
“That’s true, Uncle Snuffy. I think we’re close to finding the head honcho. I don’t know what all Del told you, but this gang has been operating at least since the late 30s.”
“Ah,” said Apana, “then even better you should catch him now. That’s a long time for someone to be getting away with any kind of criminal activity.”
“Yes, Uncle. Did you know, by the way, that my dad had investigated a couple of fires he thought were arson cases back in ’38 and ’39? The same people, I think. Were you involved in those cases?”
Apana took a crumpled white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and blew his nose with some force. Stuffing it back in his pocket, he took a long contemplative pause.
“Hmmm, I won’t say I had anything to do with those cases, David, because the memory of an old man, well, you know what I mean. But I’m fairly sure your dad must have been working on those alone.” His eyes wandered toward the open lānai door. “That’s quite a view.”
Certainly not agreeing since the view was mostly of high rises under construction, Chan said, “Uh, yes, I guess. If you like progress. Some people call it that, but, well, I don’t know.”
“Yes,” said Apana, “sometimes it feels like the world’s gone crazy, eh?\” He walked to the door and stepped out.”
Following, Chan said, “So, Uncle Snuff, how did you know I was here at Kelso’s?”
Apana leaned on the railing and stared out at all the construction. “Yes, I come from a time – well, so do you, right? – before statehood, when things were more relaxed, more carefree. I know what you mean, David, about progress. Sometimes I wish we could all wander back to yesterday. You and I know better than most that the line between right and wrong, back in those good old days, didn’t seem so hazy. Now, well, there’s so much gray.”
Chan, leaning on the railing as well, wondered if Kelso or Kauhane had told his godfather he was staying at Kelso’s apartment. He was sure that they were the only two who knew he was there.
“Uncle,” said Chan, about to ask for the third time who had told Apana of his location, when a spray of blood fountained out of the old man’s forehead, followed by a loud groan as he fell back on the lānai floor. The sound of the single shot registered in slow motion.
Recovering himself, Chan scanned the area looking for a gunman. A blue Chevy sedan peeled out of the parking lot, but Chan did not get a good look at the license plate.
He knelt beside his godfather. He could see by the glassy-eyed expression that Apana was dead.
“David!” came a shout that seemed not so far away. Chan stood up and looked over the railing. It was Kelso.
“David!” he shouted again.
Chan came to. The stitches in his head felt like they were trying to rip themselves out. Opening his eyes, he saw Kelso’s face hovering above him.
“Chin, I, ah, am I dreaming?”
“I don’t know, boss. I found you lying on the floor. You faint or something?”
Chan sat up carefully. His head was pounding. “Chin, is Snuffy here?”
“What? You mean Wilbur?”
“Yes, yes. Is he out on the lānai?”
Kelso looked toward the door. “No, David, no one’s out there.”
He helped Chan to his feet and then to the couch. “Oh man, Chin, my head is killing me.”
“Lie down, David. Let me get you some ice.”
Chan lay back on the couch arm. A dream? He’d have to call his godfather to make sure he was okay. But that had to wait. This pain was crushing him like every unkept promise piled up over a lifetime.
Lanning Lee 