“The Bikini Blonde Lager,” Nick said. “Not a bad choice. It’s a bit of a sleeper craft beer from Maui. One could argue it’s more like a K?lsch than a German Helles lager, but it’s a nice, easy American brew.” He popped the cap and set the yellow can with a hula girl on it in front of Donovan.
“Though, having been in the Navy myself,” Nick continued, “I seriously question their slogan about it being what sailors really come to shore for. Personally, I came for the women.”
“Yet you obviously know your beer.”
“Beer came in a close second,” he admitted with a grin that revealed a lot of memories. “I’m a home brewer now. Working to get into it full time once I retire, which hopefully is sooner, rather than later, which is why I’m moonlighting three nights a week here. And speaking of beers, from what you’ve learned about Ford, you’ve probably figured out he’s a few bottles short of a six-pack.”
“He appears to have made some mistakes.”
“There’s family talk that his dad tripped over the dog and dropped him on his head bringing him into the house from the hospital. I’m more in the camp that believes he’s just never grown up because he’s the baby of the family, a mama’s boy, and no one ever made him take responsibility for anything. Personally, I think Taylor would be better off dumping his fool ass, but no way am I going to play Dear Abby in that relationship.
“I did, by the way, tell him he was being an idiot not going through the proper channels when he found that ship.”
“You know about it?”
“Sure. This place was packed for ladies’ free Jell-O shot night when he got hammered, blew out his limit on his Visa buying a round for the house, talking about how that ship was going to be rich.”
“I was told he was talking about a new, rich girlfriend.”
“Yeah. But the guy who told you that isn’t a whole lot better in the gray-matter department than my cousin. He’d also been tossing back a lot of tequila shots that night, so I wouldn’t give a lot of veracity to anything he might say.
“About a week after that, these guys came looking for him. They were obviously not local cops, or I’d know them. And they sure as hell weren’t FBI. After they drove off, I ran their plates, then got their ID info from Kenny, who’d rented them the Buick. I put their names in the federal database back at the office, and they popped up connected to some mob guy in Honolulu. Who, in turn, has ties to an extended family of wise guys in Arizona.”
“What families?”
“The Tsukasa family on the island. Capelli in Phoenix.”
Donovan recognized the names immediately. The Tsukasa were a branch of the Japanese transnational Yakuza syndicate, and he’d been after the Capellis this past year when it was discovered they’d moved into Portland as a way station between the States and western Canada.
“Shit.”
“That’s putting it mildly. If Ford isn’t careful, he’s going to end up shark bait for sure.”
“Sounds like you think he’s still alive.”
“They haven’t turned the car back in yet. So, yeah, I’m guessing they’re still looking for him.” He gave Donovan a look. “I haven’t been able to find him, and believe me, I’ve been talking to all the usual suspects, so I’m guessing he’s been taken off island. Which gets complicated for me, because I’m still a cop, meaning that I’d have to check in with any other jurisdictions, and you never know who’s working for whom.”
Which, as much as Donovan hated to admit it, was true. Sometimes people you expected to be the good guys had gone over to the other side, where the pay was a helluva lot better.
“But if you’re going to save his sorry dumb ass,” Nick said, “it’d better be f*ck
ing soon. Because we’re talking a ticking clock here, brah… Want another brew?”
“No, thanks.” Donovan threw some bills on the bar. “I’ve got a dinner to get to.”
“At the Breslin place.” He put the cost of the beer into the box masquerading as a till and shoved the rest of the money in his pocket. “Lani’s a nice woman. We were sort of a couple for a few months our junior year in high school. I played wide receiver on the Mutineers. She was voted head cheerleader.”
Of course she was, Donovan thought. Not because she was beautiful, which she was, and not because her family was royalty, which was weird to think about, but they were, but because she would have been just as friendly and cheerful as she was now. If he’d been getting pounded on a football field every Friday night, he sure as hell would’ve felt a lot better looking over and seeing her waving her pom poms on the sidelines.
* * *