Kanani lowered her head. “I worked for the Military Government, too. All right? Cooperated, more like. During the war, certain intelligence officers started threatening me, bullying me, making me spy on friends. Like they did with Faddah—they said they would start leaning on my family if I didn’t play along. And they’d go after me, too—they could prosecute me as an accomplice.”

“To what?”

Her eyes widened. She released a sigh. “Well, to gambling and prostitution rings, and that was just the start.”

“Were you an accomplice?”

“It’s not like you think. We’re only a US territory. In your country, on the mainland, you might call things I did ‘organized crime.’ That’s what they called it. But we never saw it that way, and the territory law you haoles brought here never see it that way before the war, either. We always had prostitution and gambling. Boogie houses, chicken fights, any kine. And all that, ho, it was both legal and tolerated, even into the war. Then everything changed. Everything was criminalized only in ’44 when martial law ended. So at first they threaten me ’cause I was a so-called Jap, and then because I was a criminal? You guys, you always changing the rules.”

“Let’s get one thing straight: They are not me,” Lett said. “Boogie houses?”

“Mainland folks call them brothels.”

“Ah. You still haven’t mentioned that Frankie fellow.”

Kanani kicked at a stone. “Okay, okay. His real name is Francisco Baptiste. I know Frankie from around Honolulu, Hotel Street mostly. Most think Frankie is native Hawaiian but he’s mostly Flip. Filipino, that is. His growing-up faddah used to beat him, really bust him up. One day his faddah disappears fishing, and no one missed the bastard. I’m guessing Frankie was on the boat with him, if you know what I mean. Frankie, he’s the new type of big kahuna moke. They’re starting to form gangs. We never had gangs before the Military Government crackdown, never needed them. Soon we won’t know what to do without them. Now, Frankie started as a bouncer on Hotel Street, but wasn’t lolo like some mokes—he wasn’t slow or dumb. He ended up the top muscle for the kine locals who never went to jail because others were sent to go there in their place. Frankie didn’t stick to one boss, though. He was known for protecting certain people, but some say he also killed people he once protected, mainlanders even. I heard he was an archery champ and a kid chess master before he became a local champ boxer. Which sounds like Frankie. The man might be too smart for his own good.”

“Or at least for staying loyal. Back up. So, what was he doing at our bungalow?”

“I don’t know. But he’s not the kine you should have to answer to, not on general principle.”

“Whose bungalow was that?”