Notes: I finally figured out how I want to proceed with this fic. I'm pretty determined to tell this story, so hopefully I'll be able to get it done. I went back and tweaked a couple of things in chapters 2 and 3 to reflect the licensing problem; I stupidly didn't even think about that when I was first writing those installments. This chapter will deal with it even more. Also, I leave a reminder that the setting is the present-day, since I don't feel these shows are period pieces and can therefore easily adapt to another decade. There's pretty much only a small mention of modern technology here and there.
Chapter Four
Whatever conversation Dutch had planned would have to wait. When the car pulled into his driveway, another car was already there, waiting.
"Were you expecting any other late-night visitors?" Jim asked uneasily.
"No." Dutch sounded and looked tense. Glancing to the driver, he said, "Go out ahead of me and take your gun. And take Rockford with you."
Jim inwardly groaned, but wasn't surprised.
Before either of them could do a thing, however, the front door opened and Steve McGarrett stepped onto the porch. He hurried to the car with purpose. "Mr. Rockford, I need to speak with you," he said as Jim opened the car door.
"About what?" Jim asked wearily.
"According to Mrs. Ingram, you've accepted the case to find out who fired that shot at the courthouse," Steve said. "Is that true?"
"No," Jim said flatly, not about to tell his decision to a law enforcement officer. "I said I'd look into things and see if I think there is a case. Dutch here claims that somebody broke into his house a little while ago and knocked him down the basement stairs."
"That's true," Dutch insisted. "I had the police take the chap away."
"That checks out, Steve," Chin Ho said, suddenly coming up next to Steve. "The officers watching the house just confirmed it."
"Look, I'm just checking some things out unofficially, like the missing person angle." Jim knew that was something he could look into even without being licensed. "Is it going to be a problem to 5-O if I look into this?" His voice was pretty much one big sigh.
"I hope not, Mr. Rockford," Steve retorted. "Are you licensed to practice in this state?"
"No," Jim said slowly, "which is another reason why I'm just trying to see if there's even a case at all. Then I figured I'd see if a reputable P.I. here in Hawaii would pick it up." It wasn't entirely true, but despite saying he would take the case, the licensing problem had not been out of his mind. He really didn't want to run afoul of the law out here.
"We specifically requested Mr. Rockford since we've had prior experience with him," said Dutch. "In a situation like this, one really doesn't know who to trust. Eh, McGarrett?"
Steve gave him a stony look. "No, Mr. Ingram, we most certainly do not."
It was a relief to both Dutch and Jim when Steve and Chin Ho left. Dutch promptly got out of the car, limping towards the porch. "Well, now that that's over with, we can discuss the case," he said.
"Hold on, Dutchy," Jim retorted, grabbing Dutch's arm as he came up beside the mercenary. "Maybe the licensing problem doesn't mean much to you, but it means a whole heck of a lot to me. The last thing I need is trouble with the police. Worse case scenario: I could end up losing my license in California and thrown in jail here."
"At least it wouldn't be at Her Majesty's pleasure," Dutch quipped. Sobering, he added, "But yes, we were aware of the problem." He opened the front door and stepped inside.
"So what did you expect me to do?" Jim snapped. He followed, shutting the door behind him. "If you wanted an under-the-table deal, the findings wouldn't be admissible in court. It wouldn't help you or me."
"Perhaps I can explain," Lisa said, coming out to meet them.
"Please do," Jim exclaimed with a wide gesture.
"As we understand it, you would be allowed to work with a detective who is licensed here," Lisa said. "We, or at least I, hoped you might be able to choose one you felt was reputable. We didn't exclusively want someone we didn't know working on this, but with your influence, it might work. And even if the new detective wasn't worth much, at least you could use working with him as a way to legally find your way around the case."
"Lisa particularly wanted your involvement, Love, since as I told McGarrett, we know you," Dutch said. "I'm still skeptical, you understand, but your passing the little test I gave you makes me feel a good deal better about having you on the payroll."
Jim gave him a long, hard look. "Okay, if that's really what you had in mind."
"You can never prove it isn't." Dutch limped into the living room and settled in a wicker chair. "So! Let's discuss the case, as it is. What have you found out?"
"Nothing," Jim retorted. "A big, fat zero. Everybody's sticking to the stories they told in court. This creep who got the jump on you is really the only lead so far."
"Only if he knows more than what he's saying, he's buttoned his lip." Dutch leaned back, resting the cane across his lap.
Lisa took another chair. "So you still think there's nothing to our story?" she said in dismay.
"I didn't say that," Jim quickly interjected. "Obviously something is going on or that guy wouldn't have busted in here. What I'd like to know is, how'd he get past the police guards outside?"
"Oh, you of all people should know there's plenty of ways to do that," Dutch said boredly.
Jim had to concede to that. "Let's think about this," he said. "Is there anyone who might want you to confess to the murder for a reason other than that they're trying to ruin you?"
"Why else would someone want such a thing?" Lisa frowned.
"The death could've even been an accident and they're too scared to admit it, so they're trying to throw the blame somewhere else," Jim said.
"I suppose," said Dutch, sounding and looking unconvinced. He rubbed at the cane. "And shooting at me is just to further the illusion that I'm in danger and that the bloke was killed to cast suspicion on me?"
"I know it doesn't sound logical, but it's possible," Jim said tiredly. "And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that criminals aren't logical at all a lot of the time."
"I'll admit you've got a point there," Dutch said.
"I'd like to talk to the guy who attacked you," Jim said. "See if I can make him say anything more than he told you. Of course, if he really knows anything important, he's probably out on bail by now and he'll turn up dead in the morning."
"And then they'll try to blame that one on me as well," Dutch said in disgust.
"Well, you make such a good patsy," Jim said. "Hey, I know your story in court's been that you never saw Dwight Whipple at all, but why don't you level with me, huh? Didn't your men bring him to you, like they said? I know you might not want to say if he was there at all, even if you didn't kill him, but . . ."
"They never brought him," Dutch interrupted, his tone dark. "They took him at the phone booth, questioned him themselves, and then presumably they dirked him!"
"That's just really hard for me to buy," Jim sighed. "Like this whole case is."
"Let me draw you a diagram, Spunky, if you're having so much trouble." Dutch leaned forward, propping the cane against the arm of his chair. "We were going to make the exchange. Smith brought in you, and why, I'll never know. I set it up with the North Vietnamese government. Some of their boys came over to help me out on my end of things.
"Everyone's confused at Smith bringing in somebody who really don't know what he's doing. You're late for the meet, I get worried, and I send the Kimotto brothers out to see what happened. They find Whipple, question him, and somewhere along the line, they murder him. My guess is that he was still alive until I was knocked out and the gun was taken from me. Either way, I don't know a bleedin' thing about it. All's I know is that something went wrong somewhere.
"I call Smith and insist we meet somewhere on my terms. You show up, find Lance Soo dead, and the Vietnamese government boys bring you to me. You end up punchin' out my lights and my boys and the government boys have a little rendezvous over my kayoed body.
"Meanwhile, the Kimotto brothers have to do somethin' with Whipple's body. They decide you're the perfect patsy. They lock the body in the trunk of a rental car and fix it so's it lists you as the bloke what signed it out. They also make an anonymous call to the police to get them out there to check you out.
"I'm boilin' mad, not to mention still confused. I blame Smith for bringing you in, but I can't figure out who packed Lance in. You and Smith show up, Smith blames me for everything, and pulls his gun on me while threatening me with death. Naturally, I tell my boys to fire back.
"Somehow in the crossfire, you get hit, I get pinched, and I find out that what with you gettin' off the hook due to your government work, such as it is, I've been picked as the new patsy. That is a position I've never been in before and I do not like it one bloody bit."
"I don't blame you," Jim sighed. "But one thing I still don't get is why Dwight had to die in the first place. Did the Kimotto brothers or whoever think he knew too much? Was it something done in the heat of the moment that couldn't be taken back? Was it even a struggle over the gun? Dwight was just green; maybe he would've made a newbie mistake like that."
"That, I couldn't tell you," Dutch replied. "I don't know why he was killed or why I was blamed. It could be some of my boys are wantin' to take over the business and they don't want me in the way."
"Some of them are also much too chummy with me for my tastes," Lisa broke in.
Dutch nodded. "Ah yes. Dear Lisa is also part of the prize package. It could be someone hoping to move in on her as well as the business."
"Alright, give me a list of everybody who falls into that category," Jim implored. He soon had a list of half a dozen names. "And anyone who might be jealous of you and all too anxious to take over for business reasons?" That gave him another, longer list of names.
"Most of those gits you've already talked to tonight," Dutch said. "They're all the ones who testified in court, including by tellin' fibs and not the truth. And there's a few others there what didn't testify. I thought they were loyal, but you can't tell about anybody these days."
"You sure can't," Jim frowned. "Present company included." He rushed on before Dutch could retort. "Is there any chance you blundered into something even over your head, like the Hawaiian Mafia, and they want you out of the way for that reason?"
"Of course there's a chance," Dutch retorted. "The Kimotto brothers came highly recommended as gunmen and I thought they'd be perfect workin' for me during the times they were free. I need a lot of protection, you understand."
"Oh, naturally," Jim said, his voice dripping sarcasm.
"But their Mafia employers weren't always chuffed about the idea. If, in addition to that, I 'blundered into something', it would be more than enough reason for them to eliminate me." Dutch reached up, taking a worried Lisa's hand as she came over to his chair.
"And I guess there's no way to leave questioning them out of this," Jim groaned. "Who are they?"
"The main one to talk to is Wai Su," Dutch said. "He'll deny everything, but if he's lying, you might be able to figure that out. If you really are a better private eye than you are a spy, of course."
Jim didn't answer that. "He's not any relation to Lance Soo, is he?"
"Not as far as I know," Dutch said. "But it would be interesting if he were, wouldn't it?"
"It would be a lot more interesting if you got someone to do this who's really based here in Hawaii," Jim said. "I'm not familiar with Hawaiian P.I.s. I won't know who to choose."
"There is someone here we've heard you know," Lisa said. "How about, if you trust him, you go and present the case to him and see how he reacts?"
"And who's that?" Jim shot back.
"A bloody goody-two-shoes called Lance White who's setting up practice here," Dutch said. "What do you think of him?"
Jim's stomach dropped to the floor. "Oh no," he moaned. "Not Lance White. Not if I'm going to have to work with him."
"He's that bad?" Dutch raised an eyebrow.
"I don't even know if Lance would take your case," Jim said lamely. "You're right about him being a goody-two-shoes. I don't think he'd want to get mixed up with someone who's been selling out countries left and right. Not that I want to get mixed up with you, either."
"Now, I wouldn't exactly say that's what I've been doing," Dutch said. "I just set up deals between countries. If somethin' goes wrong, it's not on my conscience."
"Well, whatever. I just don't think Lance White is your man. And what's he doing setting up shop in Hawaii, anyway?" Jim blinked.
Lisa looked thoughtful. "I believe he said something about using the proceeds from his caseload to create an orphanage fund?"
Jim sighed. "Oh yeah. That's Lance for you. A real Boy Scout."
"Then surely he won't want to see an innocent man convicted of murder," Dutch said. "Or be killed on the street because someone wants him dead that badly."
Lisa nodded. "Perhaps a 'goody-two-shoes' is exactly what we want," she said passionately. "And when the two of you already know each other, all the better! Maybe he would do it for you even if he wouldn't do it for anyone else. We were hoping for you to have a positive influence!"
Jim scowled. "I can just hear him lecturing me about getting involved with a creep like your husband." His shoulders slumped. "But you're probably right; I don't think he'd feel right about turning the case down when Dutch is insisting he's innocent of murder and someone is trying to gun him down in the street."
"Then you'll speak to him?" Lisa said hopefully.
"I'll speak to him," Jim sighed again. "In the morning. Which is probably almost here by now." He started to push himself out of the chair. "I'll see if I can talk to that housebreaker in the morning too. Right now, you have got to let me get some sleep."
"By all means." Dutch gestured in a dismissive way.
Jim headed for the door, Lisa following him to show him out. At the entrance he paused. "By the way, do you know a Ginger Townsend?"
Dutch gave him a blank look. "No. Why?"
"He looks like your long-lost brother," Jim said. "He's on the island for a business meeting. And as you can imagine, he's going to be a marked man."
"And you're telling me this, why?" Dutch frowned. "Just so I can feel guilty if they gun him down instead of me?"
"Well, it just occurred to me that they might show him on the news," Jim said, "and you might get it in your head to deliberately use him to throw the bad guys off the track, even temporarily. So if he gets hurt or killed and I get even the slightest hint that you might've had something to do with it, I'll make sure you burn for that even if I can prove you didn't kill or order the killing of Dwight Whipple."
Dutch sneered. "This Ginger Townsend means something to you, Spunky?"
Jim fixed him with a withering look. "No, not really. I just don't want to see him paying for you. He's got a buddy who'll be heartbroken if anything happens to him. And it's just possible that this buddy will blame me in that case."
"Nothing will happen to him," Lisa broke in, gently pushing on Jim to steer him to the door. "We've got enough trouble. We don't need any more."
"You can say that again," Dutch muttered.
"Just as long as we understand each other." Jim hauled open the door.
"We understand." Dutch watched him. "My chauffeur will see you back to the hotel."
Jim nodded and turned away. "Thanks."
Lisa waited until he was safely in the limo and being driven away before she shut the door. "Well?" she asked.
"That didn't go too badly at that," Dutch mused. "I think we're in business."
Lisa went over and perched on the arm of his chair. "What about what he said about this Townsend chap?"
"Eh." Dutch reached up, drawing an arm around her waist. "Like you said, we don't need any more trouble. If he just so happens to get himself killed in my place, it won't buy us much time. Certainly not enough. I won't do anything to set those wheels in motion. If it happens, it's his hard luck and nothing else."
Lisa relaxed and leaned down, kissing the top of his head. "Good."
Dutch smiled. "I have to say, I'm curious to know if I'd see the resemblance Rockford sees. We'll keep watch to see if they really do show Townsend on the news."
"I hope nothing terrible will happen to him," Lisa said. "I can't stand to think of anyone who looks like you getting murdered in cold blood." She ran her fingers through his hair.
"It would be rather unsettling, wouldn't it?" Dutch closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of his wife's touch.
"Very," Lisa said. "Although of course not as horrible as if it were you."
"That won't happen, Love," Dutch assured her.
"I wish I could have your confidence," Lisa said wistfully.
xxxx
Jim was pretty much asleep on his feet by the time he got back to the hotel and shuffled inside. He wasn't expecting to see two police officers conversing in the lobby. Frowning, he slipped over to the desk clerk. "What are the police doing here?" he asked in an undertone. "Did something go wrong?"
"Not that I know of," the desk clerk replied. "I believe they're just changing the guard for Mr. Townsend and Mr. Trevino. They called for police protection."
"Good," Jim said.
"You don't think anything would really happen right here in the hotel, do you?" the clerk exclaimed with wide, worried eyes.
Jim sighed. "These people were willing to shoot a man who was just coming out of a courthouse. Do you really think they'd have any qualms about going after someone in a hotel?"
The clerk flinched. "No, I suppose not."
"Hopefully they won't, because if they realized anyone was at this hotel at all, they'd almost have to know who it was." Jim pushed away from the desk. "It's when they leave the hotel that they might be in trouble."
He headed upstairs, hoping and longing for bed. When he arrived on the right floor and opened the door, however, Rocky was still wide awake and looked up with a start. "Where have you been?!" he cried.
"Mostly with Dutch and his wife," Jim said tiredly. "Rocky, I told you not to wait up for me!"
"Now how would you expect me to sleep knowing you were going out in the middle of the night to do something for that Mr. Ingram?" Rocky retorted. "Especially knowing that I put you up to it."
"Oh, I probably would've gone out there anyway," Jim retorted. He paused at Rocky's continuing tenseness. "Something happened, didn't it?" Dread filled his veins.
"Well . . ." Rocky looked to the phone. "That Colonel Smith called. He said he had urgent business in Washington, but that he was going to be back out here in the morning and he wants to know if it's true what you're up to."
Jim had known it was coming, but realizing it was so imminent was not the news he wanted to hear. "Oh no. . . ."
Rocky nodded. "He sounded awfully upset. Said a whole bunch of things you'd never catch me repeating in a thousand years. Basically what it amounted to was that he had just thought Dutch was out of the way, and then first the judge lets him go in a gross miscarriage of justice, and next he hears that you're helping him."
"Great, just great." Jim started to head for the bathroom to wash up for bed. He wondered if sleep would even come.
Rocky stood and followed him. "You don't think . . . no, it couldn't be that."
Jim frowned. "Couldn't be what, Dad?"
"No, I don't even like to say it, even after how unpleasant the man was. He's still a highly respected military officer."
"Are you saying you wonder if Colonel Smith might be the one framing Ingram?" Jim exclaimed in amazement. "If anyone's framing him at all, of course."
"I don't want to say it!" Rocky retorted. "I can't really believe he'd do a thing like that."
Jim started to unbutton his shirt. "I can't believe he'd do it either," he said. "He was so convinced that Dutch was guilty, he wouldn't have any reason to try to frame him."
"And no reason to try to gun him down after the judge dismissed the case?" Rocky put in.
"There wouldn't have been enough time, unless he already had the sniper waiting just in case that would happen." Jim headed into the bathroom. "I don't really like the man, Dad, but I can't believe he'd stoop to something like that."
"I sure hope he wouldn't," Rocky said worriedly. "But in any case, he's not gonna be happy with you when he gets here tomorrow."
Jim shut the door. "I'm not so happy with myself either," he muttered.
xxxx
On a lower floor, Lou was trying to sleep but kept starting at every little sound. Finally he rose up, the covers slipping from his shoulders as he looked to the other bed. Ginger didn't seem to be having any trouble sleeping. He was a light sleeper in general, but the odd creaks and groans weren't bothering him.
Lou sighed and laid back down. Of course he was just hearing the hotel settling in, but after Rockford had spooked him about that Ingram character, Lou was on edge anyway.
"There's nothing wrong," Ginger suddenly mumbled. "Go to sleep."
Lou jumped a mile. "I thought you were asleep!"
"I was, until that last creak bloody well woke me up." Ginger rose now, his hair wild and his eyes filled with tired annoyance.
Lou sighed. "What if it is something to worry about?" he said.
"You're letting your imagination run away with you. We shouldn't be in danger until we leave for the meeting in the morning. If there's going to be any danger at all."
Lou slumped back into the pillow. "You know, for one of the only times, I wish you'd been able to bring some heat with you."
"So do I," Ginger said in irritation. "But we'll just have to make do with the police and our fighting skills."
Lou hoped that if there was any danger, that would be enough to fight it.
He looked over in surprise as his phone silently blinked. He grabbed it up, opening the new message. "Hey, it's from Mike," he announced.
That was not news Ginger was particularly thrilled to hear. "What does he want?"
"He saw the news story about Ingram in L.A. and wondered about it," Lou said. "And . . ." He blinked. "He says he's coming out here."
Ginger gave him a flat look. "What."
"He says a girl he knew invited him out for some party on her yacht," Lou said. "And he thought maybe we could hang out at the same time, like after the business meeting."
Ginger sank back into the bed. "Wonderful."
Lou sighed; the sarcasm was very loud. He tapped out a quick reply and set the phone aside. "I know it's still really hard for you two to get along," he said, "but I really appreciate that you've been trying for my sake."
Ginger nodded. "Let's just hope that if there is some sort of danger, your brother won't idiotically blunder his way in front of a bullet."
Lou cringed. "I told Mike about the danger and said that if we do hang out here, there's a possibility he could get hurt. He'll probably still come anyway, though, worrying about me getting hurt." He could not keep the worry out of his voice. It was bad enough to worry about his best friend. He didn't want to worry about his brother as well.
"Probably." Ginger fell silent. "Maybe nothing will happen at all."
"Maybe." Lou laid back down. "I hope it won't."
Ginger hoped not too. Especially with Michael coming. Their shared love for Lou was pretty much the only thing keeping their shaky truce going, and even that wasn't enough to stop arguments from happening—or mutual dislike from creeping into their thoughts. The thought of having to look out for Michael on the morrow was definitely not a pleasing concept.
Sighing to himself, he laid down again as well.
