Chapter 3

We pulled into the guest parking of an attractive new condominium building on the other side of the Ala Wai Canal from Waikiki. A brief drive, so Kim and I didn't have time to find out where we stood in our relationship. Sitting in the back of Moe's taxi silently, we held hands. Just before arriving we kissed gently and tenderly and not at all out of control sexy. It augured well though.

We hadn't needed to follow each other's cars. Both drivers knew where Cathy had lived. But we ended up tailing Nakamoto's dark blue Impala the whole way. The streets were quiet. It was late, nearing 1:30 in the morning.

If I thought about my day, I might have considered a long yawn or a short nap. After much sex and hardly any sleep the night before, I had spent the day working with Sandy and fucking her. That evening I visited Kim at her strip club, only to find myself involved in the investigation of my father and his friends in relationship to the recent murder of Kim's prostitute sister, Cathy. A lot of emotions had played out, including being used, losing and possibly regaining some kind of love, finding my father in the middle of a major drug scheme, and finding out my brand new girlfriend had been enslaved as a child prostitute. Finding out is the key. It's what I love to do. Finding the truth kept me awake. Even several drinks including a couple glasses of Dom Perignon didn't tire me.

Cathy lived in a small but nice sixth floor apartment, a one bedroom with fixtures not more than a couple years old. As soon as we entered, Kim went to open the glass door to the lanai to let in fresh air. I wanted to see what kind of view the place had, finding one that wouldn't have cost the most. Instead of looking out at the ocean with Diamond Head visible which would have added considerably to the cost of the place, we could see in the darkness the lush Manoa Valley, small green mountains rising up around it. I preferred the view. Kim and I stood together on the lanai, my arm across her shoulder, hers across my waist, getting as much of the curative powers of the nighttime trade winds into out system as possible while our two friends patiently waited for us to begin our search. She looked up at me, her eyes breathtakingly sad. "I'm sorry she's gone," I said. She nodded.

Taking my hand, she led me through the small apartment. She showed me a huge walk-in closet filled with a variety of clothing, from beat up jeans to sequined evening dresses to a little black dress that positively oozed sexiness. I'd have made the massive closet a study, but I wasn't a clothes horse by any stretch of the imagination.

Kim held the little black dress against her body. "Her favorite," she said. "And mine." Despite her sad eyes, she managed a sexy wink. I felt a tightening in my crotch. As she turned to leave the closet, her hand slid across my hardness, lingering a moment before the hand took mine again. She still held the black dress. When we wandered into her sister's bedroom, she laid the dress on the rich burgundy quilt on the neatly made king sized bed.

Opening the top drawer in the bedside table, Kim felt along the top. She took my hand and guided it. A piece of elastic held nothing. "Her date book," explained Kim. "Did you guys find a little black book?" she asked the detective.

"No," replied Nakamoto.

"It wasn't much of a stash," said Kim. "But she needed it available. The place must have been searched."

I picked up the burgundy phone and pressed redial. After several rings Charlie's answering machine picked up.

"Couldn't you wait until daytime?" asked Nakamoto.

"It was Charlie. Fuck him. I wish I'd woken him up."

Taking my hand, Kim walked me through the living room and into the kitchen where she began opening the cabinets below the sink, tapping the walls around them. I took the hint and did the same. We took out the shelves and tapped some more. Nothing sounded hollow that shouldn't have been hollow.

"Help me up," she said, raising her arms. I grabbed her at her slim hips and lifted her high enough so that she could kneel and then stand on the counter. Again she tapped inside the cabinets until finally, at the ceiling, she found the hollow spot. She lifted and slid some wood out of the way and felt around. Carefully she pulled a fine leather black attaché case out and placed it at her feet. I was about to grab it when Nakamoto held me back.

"Let me," he said, gloving up. Once the thin, flesh colored latex covered his hands, he carefully looked it over. "Needs a key."

Kim had already been looking for and found the junk drawer from the drawers sitting all over the floor and counter of the kitchen. She slid things around until she found the tiny key in a small plastic bag, handing it to Nakamoto.

We found four bundles of cash: three large ones and a small one. The small stack counted up to two thousand dollars.

"Here," said Nakamoto, handing the small bundle to Kim. "She probably owed you more. Don't tell anyone."

"I probably owed her what's in the big bundle." She took the money anyway, giving it to me. "Payment in full," she said with a kiss.

Nakamoto set the three bundles aside and pulled out a manila envelope containing photographs. He brought them to the living room and laid them out on the low table in front of the couch. He returned to the kitchen and the contents of the case while Moe and Kim and I looked at the photos.

"Shit," she said. "She must have stashed them when your dad tossed them at us. Michel must have trained her well."

I stared at photos of Kim with her sister, an exact if smaller version, both amazingly pretty. The hard life hadn't cut into their faces yet, even if the moments current to the photos would do some cutting. Not the majestic globes of flesh they would become, her breasts hung high and firm on her slender chest. Her ass defined perfect, round and firm. Her hips, never to grow all that wide and womanly showed hardly any definition. That and her pubic hair, having sparsely grown, with her sister completely devoid of them, disturbed me the most. It made it clear these girls at that age shouldn't turn me on.

Surprisingly, Kim displayed no embarrassment from images showing her bare ass being sucked and licked and fondled by her sister and by these large men, including my father, who also fucked them. She even leaned her now mid twenties ass against my burgeoning hard-on and created enough friction to help it grow. "Dirty young man," she grumbled low.

"I ... I'm sorry," I stuttered, ashamed but still engorged.

"Don't be, Joe," she said. "We looked beautiful and sexy and attracted men."

I could only nod my head. Why wasn't I disturbed by seeing my dad fuck my new lover? Maybe hearing he had been stoned, entrapped and still a good lover made it somehow okay. I thought the funniest photo exposed him inhaling opium, my dad being such a stick in the mud about such things.

Twenty different photos filled the envelope. They involved the entire group: Dad, Charlie, Fred, and John. Strangers, men older then my dad and "uncles" also had been photographed. The girls looked even younger in some of those photos.

"They're from Vietnam, also," explained Kim, "and from Michel's group of lechers. My sister must have had a thing for photographers. I remember her and Jane making out. Jane had her boyfriends, including Michel, but I think she preferred young ladies. My little sister turned her on."

She continued the subtle friction of her ass on my fully enlarged cock. When she pushed a little harder, I could feel the heat she generated. "Your father was my first real love and savior," she whispered, leaning back on me. I enwrapped her body with my arms. "And you, my dear Joe, are my second."

"What about Moe?" I asked.

"Moe's my guardian angel. Not my lover, nor my savior, but my guide and protector."

"More long lasting. Being lover and savior is short lived."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Enjoy it while you can."

I kissed the nape of her neck and just barley caressed her hardening nipples. She sighed.

We separated when Nakamoto returned with a yellow legal pad. He plopped it in front of Kim. "Are you familiar with these names?"

The list included my uncles and my father. Dollar amounts in a column followed columns for each name, phone number and address. Red ink circled some of the monetary numbers. Some were crossed out.

"I don't remember many of our French clients, and I only knew them by their first names. I remember Simon." She pointed at the photograph of a white haired and fat gentleman. "He preferred us being really baby-like and he stunk. Then, uhm, Jean was kind of a sweet guy for a pervert. He was a little younger and not nearly as ugly looking as the others." Her finger gestured to a dark haired gentleman who looked to be in pretty good shape.

I noticed that Cathy had circled my father's dollar amount. "You think..."

"I think your dad paid," said Nakamoto. "And I think it might make him less of a suspect. The guy who hadn't paid, but was about to pay, he's the one I think we're looking for. And guess who isn't on the list or in any photo."

"Uncle," said Kim. "No one dared put that man in a compromising position."

"Makes sense," said Nakamoto. "But you still think..."

"It had to be him."

"Okay. So what I'm thinking is..."

"One of our soldiers must have needed his services," I said, butting in, "a little blackmail within the blackmail. One of them threatened to expose the whole mess unless your uncle shut your sister up."

"One of them or all of them," said Nakamoto. "The four musketeers, after all, seem to like their clandestine meetings."

"You mean five musketeers. Don't forget Sam's involved."

"Shit," said Nakamoto. "I hate this case."

"Sam might be a hero to you, but we're talking about my father and my mentor both wrapped up in this shit."

"And my fucking sister, your lover's sister, was the victim, goddamn it!" said a very angry Kim. She stormed off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Silence ensued. Finally Nakamoto began gathering the evidence and returning it to the case.

"Talk to her," said Moe to me in his quiet mumble.

"Shouldn't you..."

"I'm here to protect her. I'm not here to cheer her up or make her happy or get her out of a bathroom, unless she's threatened, of course. And I don't care who you know who might be involved, I trust you with her."