A/N The new Avatar photo shows tourists in rain ponchos at the USS Arizona Memorial. (Because it's Memorial Day.)
Chapter 4 – Pick a Pocket
Still Saturday
"We can't do anything to make these guys suspicious!" Steve said urgently.
"I'm pulling out," Chin said.
He drove away from the approaching pickpockets, who were now laughing and joking together like any friendly family. They barely glanced at the Chevy's retreating taillights.
"We have no eyes on the suspects," Chin warned, taking a last glance in his rearview mirror before turning left out of sight.
"I'm coming around," Kono said, but first she had to go clear to the end of the row and wait for a grandmother driving an oversized SUV to seesaw her way out of a parking space. Then Kono crawled, verrrry slowly behind ultracautious grandma before she could see past the parking ramp.
The food truck was gone! No wait! The truck emerged from the garage and when the sun caught the bright orange lettering, it seemed to flash like a neon sign.
"They're at the exit on Ala Moana waiting for the light to change," Kono said anxiously.
"And so am I," Danny replied in reassurance. "I'm headed north and it looks like they are turning that way. That's them in the right turn lane, right? 'Pick a Pocket' — un-be-lieve-able!" he said, making the exclamation four separate words.
"I'm coming around on Pi'ikoi," Steve reported. "Ready to pick them up."
"If they turn right, they'll be headed toward home," Chin speculated.
"Home and a hundred other places," Steve pointed out.
"Yes, but it's dinnertime," Danny answered. "And normal, rational people who can set their own hours go home at dinnertime."
"Always thinking with your stomach," Steve quipped.
"Ha ha, you've got the light, Super SEAL, start driving toward their address and we'll see what happens. Nobody suspects you're tailing them when you're in front of them."
The players sorted out as Danny predicted. The food truck turned toward home with Steve leading the way. Danny hung back, finding it easy to follow a tall food truck painted denim blue and trimmed in day-glo orange with a design on the back that showed a hand pulling a well-stuffed pita out of a jeans pocket He wasn't worried about them spotting his Camaro, because his silver car was new to the chase.
Chin and Kono paralleled the procession on streets to the north and to the south, in case the truck made a side trip, but it went straight home.
Danny stayed on the main road when the truck turned into a modest housing tract, following Steve's dark blue Silverado. As Steve cruised down the quiet street, he realized it would be impossible to set up a stakeout here where the only traffic belonged to the residents.
In fact, his unfamiliar truck had already drawn attention. After parking in their driveway, the men got out of the truck, then stood talking on the front lawn, never taking their eyes off the Silverado.
Steve couldn't just turn around and leave, so he parked as far down the street as he could get. Keeping his pickup between him and the watchers, Steve walked up to the nearest front door and rang the bell.
A plump, cheerful Asian woman answered the door.
"Excuse me, ma'am, I'm looking for Joe White?" Steve said politely.
"Nobody by that name lives here," the woman said.
"But isn't this, 13500 Pakele Street?" Steve said, seeming to consult a piece of paper.
"No, dear, this is Pākela Street."
Looking embarrassed, Steve apologized.
"It happens all the time," the woman said kindly. "Let me show you on your map. It's just the other side of Beretania."
It was just as well that Steve had delivered newspapers on Pakele Street when he was a boy. He knew the pickpockets' street had a sound-alike cousin. (But so many Hawaiian names did sound alike, to haoles, anyway.)
Steve returned to his truck and drove away, while the dipping crew watched. After a quick consultation, the woman donned a pair of running shoes and jogged down the street where the Asian woman was taking advantage of the break in the rain to make sure her flowerbeds weren't flooding.
"Hi, Mrs. Hanamoto," Darlene called.
"Hello, dear," the woman replied. "Out for a jog?"
"Got to get my exercise in before the rain starts again," Darlene said ruefully.
Mrs. Hanamoto cast a weather eye at the sky. "Don't go too far," she warned.
"Who was that handsome man I saw you talking to?" Darlene said coyly. "New boyfriend?" she teased.
Mrs. Hanamoto giggled and fanned herself. "Ooh, I wish. No, he was just a lost haole, a soldier on leave, I think, from the way he kept 'ma'am-ing' me. He was looking for Pakele Street."
Darlene rolled her eyes. They got mail for Pakele Street at least once a month. "That's too bad. I was hoping he'd be a regular visitor," she teased.
"Watch out or I'll tell that handsome husband of yours," Mrs. Hanamoto said playfully.
Darlene would have continued the banter — she genuinely liked Mrs. Hanamoto — but a fat raindrop landed on her nose and another on her shoulder.
"Oh, dear, run for it!" Mrs. Hanamoto gathered the skirts of her muumuu and scampered inside. Darlene turned tail and sprinted for home, just beating the deluge. She reported a false alarm to her husband and brother.
Down at the end of the street, a brilliant detective in a silver Camaro lowered a pair of binoculars. It was too far away for a good stakeout position, especially in the driving rain, but it had been close enough for Danny to see Darlene's actions.
"You were right, Steve," he said into his phone. "They checked up on you. If we want to keep an eye on them on their home turf we need a plan, a really good plan."
"We know where they live," Chin said. "They won't run unless we spook them. Why don't we sleep on it and discuss it in the morning?"
"Meet at Zippy's at Ala Moana for dinner?" Danny said hopefully. "I'm starving."
"I'm in," Kono said instantly.
Chin and Steve agreed and four cars converged on the mall.
"I can't believe you like Zip Pacs." Steve looked at Danny's plate in abhorrence. Though he occasionally offered to buy Danny Zip Pacs when his pal was down, Steve would never eat one. The meal included one piece each of teriyaki beef, fried fish, fried chicken and fried Spam. "You'll eat anything if it's fried."
Danny chewed thoughtfully, considering the point. "Not pineapple," he decided. Knowing it would gross Steve out, he added, "I had deep fried Snickers bars at Atlantic City and I tried deep fried butter once, but it was a mess. Dripped all over everything."
Steve looked nauseated and had to stop eating his healthful meal of Chinatown steamed opakapaka.
"I can't believe you call yourself a Hawaiian and you don't like Spam," Chin told Steve. Chin had happily ordered a side of Spam to go with his Korean fried chicken.
Steve had eaten Spam as a kid, but after subsisting on mystery meat all over the world, the Navy SEAL had lost his taste for the Hawaiian staple.
Kono swallowed an overgenerous mouthful of Zippy's chili nachos, but the guys would never know whom she was going to bash or defend, because her phone rang and she answered it instead.
"Hey, Charlie, howzit?" she greeted the crime lab technician. She looked around the restaurant, but they were alone in a corner, out of earshot of any of the other customers. "Hang on, I'll put you on speaker. The whole team's here."
"But we're in public," Steve warned. "And this isn't a secure line."
"So no national secrets," Danny said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at Steve's excess caution.
"I rushed through the prints on the stuff Danny brought me," Charlie Fong said. "I couldn't get anything but smudges off the cards, sorry; but got a couple of good handprints off the poncho. Full handprints, five fingers almost perfect."
Steve and Danny high-fived each other. "That's two points for the brilliant detective; no points for the promising rookie," Danny chortled, making a sad face for Kono's benefit. She made a rude face back.
Charlie Fong continued, "I ran them through AFIS. No hits in Hawaii of a criminal nature, but they have a business license."
Steve nodded. "We got that much from their photos," he said. Not wanting Fong to feel like his efforts had been wasted, Steve added, "But it's always good to have confirmation."
"I have something a little better than that," Charlie said. "When I expanded the search, we got a hit right away from Chino."
Chin nodded, then explained to the others, "A California state prison."
"I won't tell you everything over an unsecured line," Charlie said, his voice a studied deadpan, making Danny palm his face. "But I routed the information to your server."
"Thanks, Charlie. I've said it before, you're a Geek God," the promising rookie said.
"I'd love to know how you got these palm prints," Charlie said.
"That's a story for another time," Danny said. "Preferably with a beer in one hand and a steak on the grill."
"I'll hold you to that," Charlie answered, and hung up.
Kono realized the three men were grinning at her. "What?"
"I notice Charlie called you with the results, even though Danny dropped the evidence off," Steve said.
"He's got my number on his phone," Kono said with a shrug, then realized that made the guys grin even wider. She rolled her eyes at them and refused to dignify their innuendos with any further argument.
"Back to the office?" Danny sighed. It had been a long day already, but Steve had boundless energy when the hunt was on.
"Back to the office," the commander agreed.
They finished eating and Danny collected a bag of cinnamon sugar malasadas from Napoleon's Hot & Fresh counter. The bakery was perfectly named. The fried dough balls were hot, fluffy and tasty even at dinnertime.
"You just ate!" Steve protested.
"That was dinner. This is dessert. Normal people eat dessert after dinner," Danny retorted.
"What'd you get, two dozen?" Steve said, looking at the size of the bag in disbelief.
"Knowing you, there won't be time for breakfast," Danny shot back.
"He's got you there, boss," Kono said, happily taking a malasada for her dessert. Chin also took one when it was offered.
Back at the office, the others took a second round of malasadas before starting to work. Steve looked longingly at the bag, sorry he'd made a production about them. His meal had left a fishy taste in his mouth and a little cinnamon sugar would take that away. But he wouldn't ask. Not now.
Fortunately for him, the brilliant detective knew all his partner's faces. He pushed the bag at Steve. "Have one, already. You're making us feel guilty."
"Can't have that. Thank you." Face saved, Steve took a malasada. (And he enjoyed it, too, though torture wouldn't have gotten him to admit it.)
Chin washed his hands, and insisted everyone else do the same, before he called up Charlie Fong's findings on the smart table.
The lieutenant entered lecture mode. "Our male suspects apparently met in the California Institution for Men, known as Chino for the city where it's located. Known as Chino Men's by the city's residents who don't want people to think there's nothing in Chino but the prison. I collected a prisoner there once when I was with HPD.
"They were serving short sentences — Simon for pickpocketing and Darren for snatch and grab. It was a first offense for both of them and, being nonviolent offenders, they were assigned as roommates. They each served about a year and, being model prisoners, were let out on parole because of prison overcrowding.
"They finished the terms of their parole also as model citizens, though apparently they kept in touch with each other…"
"… which is a no-no," Danny muttered.
"… because one month after Darren's parole was up, Simon married Darren's sister Darlene," Chin finished.
"And they moved to Hawaii?" Kono asked.
"They moved here to make a new start," Chin agreed. "They bought a small house together and the food truck. Darlene had been a sous chef at a small restaurant. Both men had worked in the prison kitchen and worked at food service jobs while on parole."
"And...?" Steve asked, when Chin stopped.
"And for anything more, we need to get a warrant for their financial records," Chin said.
"And no judge is going to grant one if we interrupt him at home on Saturday night. We're not talking international terrorists here, just pickpockets," Danny said.
"But the governor really wants us to move on this," Steve said. And once he had a quarry in view, Steve wanted to keep moving, like a hound hot on the scent.
"Then the governor can find us a judge who'll issue a warrant on Sunday morning for bank records and phone records," Chin said. "And a bank manager who'll grant access. I could, uh, get into the system without help, but ..."
"But authorized access looks so much neater in court records," Danny finished for him. "So now it's up to you, Super SEAL. Show the governor how quickly we moved on his, um, 'request'; but now we need his help."