This Californian is back from my vacation in Hawaii. Terrible weather but I saw Danny and Chin. (OK, I saw Scott and Daniel, but they were filming a scene, so they were Danny and Chin at the moment.) Look for them talking to people at Mana Kai Catamarans in episode 2.20 due to air April 9. See my bio page for a photo I took.

On another note, writing is going slow because I have carpal tunnel syndrome and I need to rest from typing too much. Still have lots of ideas, however. I'll just have to do a little at a time.

Chapter 14

Day 5, Wednesday – After the baseball game

Danny automatically jogged in the direction of the muffled scream. Realizing his daughter was right beside him, he slowed just as they came into view of the altercation. A family in Angel's gear was menaced by three burly Yankees' fans. An older man whose face had gone as white as his hair clung to his wife's arm while his grown son put his arm protectively around a young woman's shoulders.

Two of the attackers flaunted long-bladed hunting knives. The third man's hands were empty, but Danny noted a suspicious bulge in the back of his shirt just at his waistband.

One knifeman was spouting angry words at the family in accents that reminded Danny of home. Damned if the loudmouth wasn't Jersey born.

"Stay here, Grace. Stay down behind the car," Danny ordered.

Concentrating, Danny broadened the accent he'd almost lost during his time in Hawaii, then strode forward, happily gesturing with the program in his hand.

"Hey, paisan! Why so angry? We won!"

The leader gave him a scornful look.

"Stay out of this, shorty," he ordered. "These guys have been running their mouths all night."

"Us?" the young man yelped, unable to contain himself, then shut up again when the knife waved in his direction.

"But mouthing off is half the fun," Danny protested, edging between the attackers and their victims.

Knife leader gestured to the other knife wielder, "Get rid of him."

The man moved toward the detective. Danny turned his "what the heck" gesture, into an attack. He threw the program into knifeman Number 2s face. The fluttering missile was just enough distraction to let Danny close with the boss man. Danny grabbed the knife wrist with his left hand and planted his right fist in the man's jaw. Two quick jabs to the jaw and two more to the gut, which sent beery fumes into the detective's face. Despite the gas attack, Danny twisted the knife free and sent it spinning under a nearby car, then yanked the leader forward, so the man crashed head first into the side of an SUV and dropped to the ground in a daze.

As Danny turned he caught a glimpse of the menaced family. The young woman was — sensibly — running toward the stadium calling for police. The older woman dug frantically through her handbag and pulled out a pill bottle while her son supported his white-faced, gasping father. The younger man kept his eyes on Danny's battle, one fist clenched as if he wished he could participate.

Danny was a willing substitute. Willing and able.

Knifeman 2 recovered from the program attack and drove forward, slashing a line of fire on Danny's forearm. The detective dodged, but otherwise ignored him, focusing his attention on the third man, who was pulling a gun from that suspicious bulge at his back.

Danny Williams did not have the combat training of SuperSEAL McGarrett or the martial arts skills of Kono Kalakaua, but the height-challenged detective was an expert in down and dirty street fighting. He stepped in close to the gunman before he could bring his pistol to bear and slammed his knee up into the man's groin. Danny took the gun from the attacker's nerveless hand and slammed the gun butt against the side of the attacker's head. As the gunman sagged, Danny shoved him at the remaining knifeman, then spun to cover all three attackers. (Though two were paying little attention to the proceedings.)

"Freeze, police!" Danny barked.

His words were echoed by dark-uniformed shapes approaching out of the parking lot shadows. "Freeze, police!"

"Drop the gun!" one of the Anaheim PD officers ordered.

Danny pointed the gun at the sky and spread his fingers away from the trigger. "Easy, boys, I'm an off-duty police officer."

"Don't hurt him," the older woman shouted. "He saved us."

Two officers coming up behind the action saw the little girl crouched behind a car. One officer holstered her weapon and quietly asked the girl if she was OK.

"Don't hurt my Daddy," Grace said fearfully, pointing at the blond man who was setting his weapon on the ground. "He's a good guy."

Danny used two fingers to pull his badge out of the inside pocket his mother had sewn in his jersey. At least he hadn't lost his badge in this fracas.* He flipped the folder open to show his badge, then offered his ID to the officers.

The woman officer, MJ Pratt, saw the victimized family volubly and emphatically confirming Danny's story and pointing angrily at the other three men. The Anaheim officers gestured Danny to stand by the family and handcuffed the other three, hustling them away in patrol cars while calling for paramedic assistance for the older man. He was now sitting on the ground while his wife put a pill between his lips.

"He going to be OK?" Danny asked.

"He has angina," the young man said. "Once he gets his nitro pill, he should be OK." In fact, the color had already started to come back to the father's face.

"I think it's safe now," MJ told Grace.

"Danno!"

"Grace." Danny reached for his daughter, then winced and pulled his arm back. He grabbed his forearm as Grace grabbed around his waist.

"Danno! Are you hurt?" Grace gently touched his arm and found a slit in his jacket sleeve as long as her hand. "Daddy?" she said uncertainly, tears of sympathy and anxiety in her eyes.

"It's OK, baby," Danny reassured her. He pulled off his jacket and displayed his arm. Blood seeped from a long red line.

"See. It's just a scratch. Grandma's cat Tiger has scratched me worse."

Grace giggled. Tiger was a surly tom who was gentle with females but hated men.

"Here, let me look at that," one of the paramedics said, while his partner was taking the pulse of the older man.

"Clean it good," Danny instructed. "This kind never cleans their knives."

The paramedic cleaned it so well, it burned worse than when Danny had been cut; but then the paramedic spread on an antibiotic ointment that soothed the pain. He was wrapping the arm with gauze when MJ approached.

"The lieutenant would like to see you."

Danny urged his heavy-lidded daughter to her feet. "Come on, monkey, I think we're going to get another ride in a police car."

Grace was too tired to be excited. Though they hadn't tried, the Williamses had adjusted to Pacific Time. It felt like 11 p.m. even though it was only 8 p.m. back home.

"You can take a nap while Daddy does his paperwork," Danny said.

The detective saw an officer collect his fallen program.

"Hey! You really need to take that? We need the scorecard!"

"It's evidence," said Lieutenant James Randolph, a tall black man with a big square head and a muscular body.

Danny wished he hadn't thrown the program. "I'm sorry, Grace," he said sarcastically. "You'll have to tell your teacher the police confiscated your homework."

Randolph invited Danny politely into the back seat of his police car and took the wheel himself.

Grace was asleep when the police car pulled up at the station. When Danny winced as he lifted her out, Randolph offered to carry her in.

"You've got to give that cut a chance to heal," he advised. "I've got a girl this age," he said with such a fond smile that Danny permitted the stranger to touch his precious daughter.

In the lieutenant's office, they arranged the girl on a couch, her head pillowed on her plushy rally monkey.

Randolph studied Danny's badge under his desk lamp.

"I've never heard of Five-0," he said frankly. "I need to confirm your ID."

"I can get the governor of Hawaii on speed dial," Danny offered, smiling when he remembered Steve doing it.

"That wouldn't help. I wouldn't know his voice if I heard it."

"Apparently not," Danny agreed, ruthlessly suppressing the sarcasm that wanted to leak out.

Randolph must have heard something odd, however, because he cocked his head at Danny in a wordless question.

MJ, who had brought a blanket for Grace, coughed lightly. "I believe Hawaii has a woman governor," she said politely.

Randolph frowned to be caught ignorant, then shrugged.

Danny could have given Randolph Steve's phone number, but that wouldn't prove he was who he said he was. Randolph needed to go through official channels. "It's after 8 in Hawaii. No one will be in the Five-0 office. Why don't you call Honolulu PD? They can transfer you to Commander McGarrett's cell," Danny suggested.

Randolph looked up the HPD number, identified himself and asked to be transferred to the head of Five-0.

"Anaheim? Has something happened to Detective Williams or his daughter?" Sgt. Duke Lukela asked with quick concern.

"They're fine," Randolph reassured the sergeant. Danny crossed his arms in triumph. "There was an incident after the Angels game. I just need to confirm Williams' identity."

"May I speak to him?"

Randolph passed the phone to Danny.

"Duke? Yeah, we're fine. Some jerks were hassling a family outside the stadium and I stepped in. Transfer me to Steve, would you? So I can prove I didn't get my badge out of a Crackerjack box. Oh! And Grace picked out a Minnie Mouse doll for your granddaughter. Frilly pink dress. She'll love it. No problem, brah, thanks!"

Danny handed the phone back to Randolph. "He's transferring the call to my boss now."

Randolph would have accepted Lukela's ID, but now he was curious.

Sitting on his lanai watching the stars come out, Steve answered the call from "HPD." He sat up in sudden alarm when he heard "Anaheim."

"Are Danny and Grace OK?"

"They're fine," Randolph said hastily. "They're here in my office."

By now Randolph felt comfortable enough with Danny's ID to tease the detective, one officer to another.

"There was an incident after the Angels game," he told Steve. "I wanted to confirm Detective Williams' identity since he was found brandishing a weapon …"

"Brandishing!" Steve clearly heard his partner's indignant voice in the background. "I took it off a perp."

"… and reeking of beer," Randolph continued unperturbed.

"Reeking! That was one beer four hours ago!"

Steve was relieved to hear Danny vigorously defending himself. The tone of Randolph's voice sounded amused not hostile, but Steve decided to err on the side of caution. If some joke of his got Danny detained for even an hour, the Jerseyan would never forgive him. And would say so at the top of his lungs.

"I'm sure if Detective Williams was holding a weapon, there was a good reason," Steve said formally. "He's a good cop. The best I know."

"I believe you, commander. He took down three armed suspects single-handed and only got a scratch."

Danny was waving his hands frantically.

"Scratch?" Steve demanded in instant concern.

Danny palmed his face. "Gimme," he demanded the phone. "I'm fine, Mom," he told his partner. "It's really, literally, just a scratch."

Steve relaxed. "At least it's not my fault this time."

Danny couldn't explain about being trouble magnetized, not over the phone, not in the lieutenant's office, so he didn't answer. He told Steve he had to fill out a report and said goodbye.

Danny entered his statement in the computer with the ease of familiarity.

The lieutenant himself offered to drive Danny and still sleeping Grace back to their car.

As they left, Randolph said, "I can't give you back the program, but maybe this will help with the homework." He handed Danny a photocopy of the scorecard.

"Thanks," Danny said gratefully. "We can look up the box score, but teachers like to see the work in your own handwriting."

"Let's get you back," Randolph said. "I still have to collate all these statements into an incident report. This is my last night before I go back on days and I was hoping for a quiet shift."

"At least you don't have corpses," Danny pointed out.

"True. Thanks for that."

"Just doing my job." Danny rolled his eyes. "Even though I'm on vacation."

Randolph drove through the empty parking lot where Danny's rental car sat in lonely splendor.

"Guess I didn't need the 'remember where you parked' app after all."

*See my story, The Fight in the Dog