Mele Kalikimaka Mr Walker by Robert G. Barrett Page B

courtyard full of trees, indoor plants and Hawaiian and American flags, where Mick pushed a button next to a lift. There were more smiles and ‘g’days’ from the passing cops, the lift opened and they went up one floor.
    Another corridor led past a sign saying ‘Narcotics and Vice’ to another that said ‘Homicide’. ‘This is it,’ smiled Mick.
    They turned into a small office with green carpet and light green walls. There were about six desks and swivel seats, computers, filing cabinets pinned with mug shots and corkboards on the wall pinned with more mugshots. There was a photo enlarger, a fax machine, phones, more filing cabinets with plants and personal effects sitting on them, and other police paraphernalia that you’d find in just about any police station in any big city anywhere in the world. Seated at a desk on the right in a red floral shirt was a tall, dark-haired detective about thirty something, with a neat moustache and an easy smile.
    â€˜Hey, Iron Head,’ he drawled, in a typical, slow American voice as they walked in. ‘How are you… mate?’
    â€˜G’day, Honesto,’ Mick smiled back. ‘How are you goin’, mate? Hon, this is a mate of mine from Australia. Les Norton. Les, this is one of Honolulu’s finest. Honesto Figueroa.’
    â€˜G’day, Honesto,’ said Les, offering his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, mate.’
    â€˜Hello, Les.’ The other cop shook Norton’s hand and his smile got wider. ‘Christ! Another Aussie in the place. One’s more than enough. And this one talks even worse than you do.’
    â€˜Get out. You seppos just don’t know how to speak the Queen’s English, that’s all.’
    â€˜At least we don’t talk through our noses all the time.’ Honesto gave Les a wink then turned back to Mick. ‘So, you having another look for Mr Walker, are you?’
    â€˜Yeah. He’s about due to go off again.’ Mick moved across to a desk with his name on it and riffled through a couple of memos.
    â€˜Well, I’m going for a coffee.’
    â€˜Yeah. Good idea,’ replied Mick absently.
    Honesto stood up and Les was surprised how tall he actually was. ‘Nice talking to you, Les. How long you here for?’
    â€˜About another week, Honesto.’
    â€˜I might see you before you go back. Enjoy your stay in Hawaii.’
    â€˜Thanks, Honesto. I’m sure I will.’
    The tall detective moved across to the door; as he got there he turned around. ‘Hey, Iron Head. Don’t forget to be nice to your Aussie girlfriend out on Diamond Head. You never know when you might need a root yourself. Isn’t that what you Aussies call it?’ He gave Les a wink and strolled off, laughing at his own joke.
    â€˜You see what I gotta put up with?’ said Mick, making a gesture with his hands.
    â€˜Yeah,’ nodded Les. ‘But they all seem like a pretty good bunch.’
    â€˜They are,’ agreed Mick. ‘I couldn’t work with better people.’ Mick flicked a couple of memos across the table. ‘It’s just bad luck I’m lumbered with all this shit. Anyway, pull up a chair.’
    â€˜Yeah, righto.’ Les got a swivel seat and sat down alongside Mick.
    Mick produced half a dozen manila folders from a filing cabinet, spread them across his desk and was about to open them when the phone rang. Les didn’t try to overhear the conversation. He stared down blankly at the folders, then, glancing up as a couple of cops walked past in the corridor, began to wonder just what he was doing there.
    â€˜Right,’ said Mick, putting down the phone, ‘here’s what’s happening. Or, as we like to say, a profile on our alleged suspect, whatever.’
    He opened up the folders, spreading a number of colour photos in front of Les. Les stared grimly down at the photos of six young women laid out on tables in