Neil Plakcy - Mahu

She smiled shyly, and introduced Brandon to Harry. I felt like drumming my fingers on Tommy’s desk, hurrying them along, but I caught myself. It was like this transformation was going on inside me-I’d never been an “us versus them” kind of guy, maybe because my family’s such a melting pot I never felt like there was a group I didn’t have at least one relative in.

But being gay was different. Every time I heard the word fag, I felt my body go tense. I was starting to look at straight couples together and get mad, that they had something I didn’t. I was about to start calling people with kids breeders. And all within less than a week. Kind of took my breath away.

It took Harry a little longer to break into the Palm Pilot software than it had to get past the computer’s password, but eventually he was able to synch up the Palm to a copy of Microsoft Outlook on Tommy’s computer, and export the calendar and address book. “This won’t be completely up to date,” Harry said, as the PC whirred and clanked. “I mean, if you’re expecting to see he had a meeting Tuesday night, it might not be there. This is only current up to the last time he hot-synched to the computer.”

“I love it when you talk geek to me. What does that mean in English?”

“It means that he carried the Palm around with him and made entries directly into it,” Harry said. “Adding people to his address book, putting in appointments, making notes. But in order to get that stuff into this file,” he pointed at the icon on the screen, “he had to perform this function they call a hot synch. You drop the Palm into the cradle, press a couple of buttons, and everything copies.”

We discovered that the last time Tommy had done a hot synch had been a week before. “So nothing on his calendar for last Tuesday,” I said.

“But you wanted some names and numbers,” Harry said. He clicked over to the address book. “Voila.”

We printed out his address book, which was unfortunately quite sparse. A few names and numbers I thought the FBI might like, but very little in the way of personal contacts.

We finished up after that, but it took a couple of minutes to get Harry past Arleen’s desk. Brandon was fascinated with his glasses, pointing again and again to his own reflection and laughing. Harry found all this very cute, though I got tired of it fast. I love my nieces and nephews, but I think they’ve gotten more interesting as they’ve started to have interesting things to say-usually around nine or ten. Harry promised to send Arleen some information on classes at UH, too, even volunteering to get together with her and help her polish her programming skills.

I finally got Harry outside. The trade winds had died, and Waikiki sat under a dark gloomy cloud. As we got out to Kuhio Avenue, a guy in a red Porsche with vanity plates DR DR veered in front of a huge black Lincoln Navigator, and the Navigator almost crunched his very expensive bumper. There were times when I really wanted to drive a black and white again.

“You up for a little wahine action tonight?” Harry asked. “Canoe Club bar?”

I don’t know how it came out. I certainly hadn’t been planning to say it. I said, “Harry, I’m gay,” as we turned makai toward Kalakaua. “No more wahine action for me. I’m not lying anymore.”

“I wondered when you were going to figure it out,” Harry said. “Good for you.”

“You mean you knew?”

I looked over at him, and he nodded. “I wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but I had an idea. I mean, you could never stick with a woman for more than a week or so.”

“There was Peggy in high school. That was three years. Although I have to say I’m not quite sure what I’m doing dating her again.”

“High school was different. None of us knew what was going on back then.” He paused. “So what made up your mind?”

“It wasn’t really one thing. I don’t know why, all summer long, I’ve been noticing things I never noticed before. Porno magazines in a bookstore window. Two guys holding hands at midnight on the beach. Then I came here.”

I told him about that night, from the failed drug bust down to finding Tommy Pang’s body in the alley. “It doesn’t matter to me, you know that,” Harry said. “You’re my friend and I hope you’ll always be my friend, no matter who you decide to sleep with.”

I didn’t know what to say. I felt elated, and also a little scared and weird, like my secret was out. I’d told Akoni, of course, but the circumstances and his reaction had been so different. Harry put his hand on my shoulder. “Mahalo,” I said. “I’ll call you. Maybe we’ll surf tomorrow.”

“Just not at six a.m., okay?” he asked. “I need my beauty sleep.” Then he smiled. “Plus, now you’re not going to know if I’m alone or not.”

I nodded and smiled, and he crossed the street, heading back toward his apartment.

On the way back to the station I ran into Alvy Greenberg on patrol, under the trees behind the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center. It was cool back there, nicely landscaped, quiet. We stood in the shaded lobby of the shopping center, surrounded by the hushed voices of serious shoppers and the occasional small child racing around the courtyard. We talked for a couple of minutes, mostly me expressing my frustration at how few leads we had on Tommy Pang’s murder. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said. “If you want my honest opinion, I think you’re the best detective we’ve got on the force.”

“Mahalo, brah. I appreciate the vote of confidence, even if I don’t feel like I deserve it most of the time.”

I walked past the open air market, full of t-shirts, plastic leis and coconuts you could send home like postcards. A parrot called out, “Hey, pretty baby,” over and over again. There was a lazy flow of tourists from one stall to the next, but nobody seemed to be buying much.

Back at the station, I checked out all the people in Tommy Pang’s address book. Akoni was out tracking down his own leads, and I only spoke to him long enough to determine that we’d start talking to the people in the book together the next day.

As I left the station, I passed an elderly Japanese woman, dirty and dressed in rags, sitting on the curb shouting obscenities. Alvy Greenberg was on his way to roust her, and I nodded as we passed each other.

I took my time walking home. At Kuhio Avenue and Lili’uokalani Street, a good-looking guy passed me, heading toward the beach. He had a surfer’s physique, like mine-strong chest, well-defined pecs, a dusting of blond hair down the center of his chest. His legs were long and his calves and thighs well-muscled. He was wearing a skimpy bikini that didn’t cover much, and as we made eye contact I experienced a sudden pang of horniness. Our eyes met for a moment, but both of us kept on walking. I couldn’t help turning to stare at him; though I forced myself to look away eventually, I watched his butt go halfway down the block before he blended in with the rest of the crowd. And then I knew what Akoni was worried about, and it scared the hell out of me.

My life had become my latest case. And like a bulldog, I was going to keep gnawing at my personal problems until I had worked them out. I knew then that I couldn’t keep my sexuality a secret forever, and that revealing it would rip open my life and hurt many people around me.

I knew my parents loved me, but I also knew my father’s bad temper and remembered the frequent disparaging comments he’d made about mahus when I was growing up. And though my brothers loved me, too, they had teased me mercilessly when we were kids. Suppose they chose to shut me out now?

I’d always appreciated my sense of being rooted in Honolulu. Landmarks in town had personal meaning to me, and my parents’ network of friends and distant relatives was all around. Now that I was an adult, I often ran into distant cousins and Punahou classmates at the grocery, on the beach, or on street corners downtown. What if I was shut out of that community, shunned? What if I didn’t belong in my own home anymore?