Unknown Victim by Kay Hadashi (classic books for 11 year olds .TXT) 📕

that.” She took a sip of her wine. It was worse than she had expected. “Are you Bunzo?”

He pointed to himself with a surprised look on his face. “He’s long gone. Sold the place to the current owner a few years ago. They decided to keep the name, even after the clientele changed. Why are you asking about him?”

“No reason. Just an odd name.”

“This place used to be famous, after the war. Bunzo, too. That’s how he got all his customers.”

“What war?” she asked, when he came back from pouring drinks for patrons at the far end of the bar.

“World War Two. You’re new on the island, aren’t you?”

“Why do people keep asking me that?”

“You’ll learn that everything here is either before the war or after the war.”

“Why was that so important?” she asked.

“Maybe because Pearl Harbor is only a few miles from here? Or that all the belongings and property of the Japanese population here were confiscated at the beginning of the war, and very little of it was ever returned? Or that many of the young Japanese American men enlisted in the US Army as soon as they could to show their loyalty, and all of them were sent to Europe to fight the Nazi Germans and fascist Italians?”

Gina was feeling uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going. All she’d wanted to do was break the ice so she could ask about Tuyo beer. Here she was, getting a history lecture about a war that happened before her parents were even born.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to irritate you.”

“No problem. It’s just that my ex comes from one of those Japanese families. I’ve heard all about what they lost back then, and how hard they worked after the war to rebuild their lives. They’re pretty proud of that.”

“They should be.”

He went off to help the other bartender on duty by pouring a few more drinks, and eventually came back to her.

“My name’s Chuck,” he said, wiping the bar with a towel.

“Gina. Nice to meet you.”

“You didn’t come in here for a history lesson, or to drink our fine wine. You mind telling me why you’re here, or do you need to pay up and clear out?” he asked.

“Just wanted to ask a couple of questions.”

“About?”

“The kind of merchandise you sell here.” As soon as she said it, Gina knew her choice of words were bad.

“You a cop?”

“Do I look like one?”

“A little.” He refilled her glass before she’d been able to empty it. “Look, this place is legit. Maybe some of the patrons are looking for half-hour dates, but you’ll have to take that up with them out in the parking lot. We don’t push any drugs here, okay?”

“I’m not asking about drugs, but that’s good to know.” It was time to get out her phone and find the picture of the Tuyo bottle cap. “Do you serve this brand here?”

“Tuyo? I think we have a case of it in back. Why?”

“Hard to find the stuff,” Gina said. “I’ve heard that not many places sell it?”

“It’s less about selling the stuff and more about finding someone willing to drink it.”

“Pretty bad?”

“I tried it once. Couldn’t finish it. Only way to categorize the stuff is as gut rot.”

“Okay if I try one?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Won’t be cold.”

“That’s alright. I just want to see how bad it really is.”

“Suit yourself.”

He went down the narrow hallway to the back for a couple of minutes and returned with a single bottle. She watched as he held the bottle in one hand and flipped the cap off with an opener. The cap fell and bounced on the par a few times, mostly ignored. He set the bottle on the bar without a glass and took her glass of wine away. Before he could toss the cap away, Gina snagged it.

“Enjoy your Tuyo,” he said before walking away.

“Enjoy your Tuyo,” she mumbled sarcastically once he was out of earshot. She carefully grabbed the bottle only at the top of the neck where he hadn’t touched and had a taste. “Oh my god.”

Keeping the beer close so it wouldn’t be taken, she watched the patrons in the bar. It was mostly a pickup joint, not even a meat market. If the girls weren’t hookers, they were trying really hard to be one night stands. With the guys, there seemed to be some sort of epidemic that only blond hair dye could treat. If gold chains on guidos back home kept the evil spirits away, blond hair on Asian men seemed to accomplish the same in a Honolulu dive bar.

At first, she didn’t notice the man walking toward her through the crowd. Once he got clear of the others, she got a better look at him. With tattered jeans and an orange Hawaiian print shirt, and a fedora on his head, she almost didn’t recognize him.

His shoulder grazed Gina’s as he sat on the stool next to hers. He said nothing to her, but ordered a drink from the bartender, an ‘old fashioned’, not at all similar to the neon-colored drinks everyone else was consuming. He leaned his elbows on the bar until his drink came. He gave it one swirl with the swizzle stick before taking a drink. When he set it down on its napkin again, he jabbed at the orange twist as if it were a practiced habit. Still ignoring Gina, Detective Kona took a second sip.

Gina took another swig of her beer, now not noticing so much how bad it was. She had other things to think about right then.

His shirt was too loose to notice if he had a piece in a shoulder holster. Maybe all he had was a .22 under a cuff of his pants. He was big enough to keep anyone back, though, probably the biggest man in the bar right then.

When she leaned close to him, simply to cross her legs in the other direction, she caught his scent. He’d put on cologne to cover his