Excerpts from Pau Hana

Hawaii Five-O Fan Fiction

Pau Hana was an anthology of fiction, nonfiction, and artwork celebrating Hawaii Five-O. Published in four bound volumes, it has been out of print for several years. I have managed to track down some of the stories to their current locations on the World Wide Web. For the other stories, only excerpts are available at the present time.


    SPECIAL SECTION: The Governor Murder Cases

From Pau Hana 1

Bed of Lies

by Gina Martin

Dan Williams awakens, disoriented, in a strange hotel room. There's evidence he wasn't alone and that blackmail is in his future...

"What did you find?" McGarrett asked his detectives.

Grimly Chin Ho Kelly pointed to a small hole bored into the plaster. "Just what you thought, Steve. This goes through to the adjoining room."

McGarrett pounded his balled fist on the top of the chest. "Any trace of equipment?"

"Checked it," Kono said, negatively shaking his head. "Lab boys are there now, but it's clean. If there were cameras there we can't prove it."

"The night clerk?"

Kono Kalakaua shook his head again. "Says he never saw Danny. Says the room and the one next door were rented to a couple from Arizona, and their friends, for three days. He only met the one couple once, hasn't seen them since yesterday."


The huge Hawaiian shrugged his shoulders, which seemed to strain at the seams of his conservative suit. "They looked like tourists."

McGarrett's lips pressed together in a stern line of somber distaste. "And I bet this place will be clean, too," he snapped.

"Been wiped, except for the phone," Kono confirmed. "And those must be Danny's prints." Kono held up a plastic evidence bag labeled as Five-O property. Inside were various personal belongings. "Danny's stuff. You want to take it to him?"

"Have the lab go over it, including dusting for prints." He paused, scrutinizing the .38 revolver in the bag. "Has the gun been fired?"

"Didn't check."

With a nod, Steve handed the bag back.

"A real neat setup," Chin concluded. The veteran cop shook his head in confusion. "But why?"

Return to the index.

And Nun for Steve!

by Maryann Gallant

Steve gets a visit from a nun with an unusual problem...

"Well, the murder did happen one hour before the young man arrived at my door, and he did look as though he were running from something." She paused a moment to renew her thoughts. "That poor Mr. Urdang. I didn't know him personally, but he was a regular at our church."

Chin, so patiently waiting through all this, finally spoke up. "I knew David Urdang, slightly, and he didn't strike me as the religious type."

"Oh, but he was," Sister Carrie answered Chin. "He even attended weekday Mass several times a week." She turned to Steve and explained, "Father Maguire has seven o'clock Mass every morning."

"Tell me, Sister," Steve continued, "is there any other reason you believe the young man who came to your door last evening may be involved, other than his appearance or the time? Did he say anything that might indicate he was involved?"

"He hardly spoke two words to any of us except to say he needed a place to stay. But when Sister Ellen and I went into the shelter to see if he would like some breakfast, I found this under his mattress." She reached inside a pocket hidden within the many pleats of her skirt and brought out a doubled-over newspaper. She held it out and the paper unfolded, revealing a chef's knife covered with dried blood.

Return to the index.

Love and Honor

by Keleka

Midshipman First Class McGarrett counsels a young plebe about a very personal problem...

"Sir, I wish to report an honor code violation, sir."

McGarrett stopped in his tracks. Fortunately he was behind Baxter at the time. It wouldn't do for a plebe to see that he had surprised the Officer of the Watch. An Honor Code violation was serious business at Annapolis. As Chairman of the Honor Committee, McGarrett had had the distasteful duty earlier in the semester to recommend to the Superintendent that a youngster be expelled for stealing.

He crossed the room and stood behind his desk. He pointed toward the door on the other side. "Close the door and sit down, Mr. Baxter."

"Sir, yes, sir," the plebe said, doing as instructed. He sat bolt upright in the chair, simply unable to relax while in an upperclassman's presence.

McGarrett looked thoughtfully at the younger midshipman. He often wondered how he had looked to the firsties when he entered the Academy three and a half years earlier. Had he looked to them like a deer caught in the headlights, the only simile that seemed to him to fit most of the plebes.

"Against whom do you make this charge, Mr. Baxter?" Unlike West Point cadets, middies were not duty bound to report transgressions by other middies. There was no 'nor tolerate those who do' tacked on to the code which said simply that "Midshipmen do not lie, cheat, or steal." McGarrett knew the offense must be very serious to have brought Baxter to this point, especially if the miscreant were an upperclassman.

"Sir," Baxter said, trying to be brave but looking every bit like the seventeen-year-old child that he was, "Against myself, sir."

Return to the index.

Wild Rice

by Karen Rhodes

McGarrett discovers a past he had no idea of...

Steve McGarrett just finished furling the mainsail on his 33- footer and securing the canvas cover when he noticed a young man patiently standing on the dock just a few feet away, watching him. McGarrett's cop's radar snapped on, but there weren't any threatening vibes coming from the watcher, a Japanese -- no, not full Japanese; there was some European or American in him. It was the eyes. Not obsidian like most Japanese eyes. Blue. McGarrett blinked. The youth's hair was totally Japanese -- jet black and straight, glistening in the afternoon sunlight. Or was it purely black? Didn't it look a little reddish in the sun?

Something else about the kid made McGarrett scan him closely. Nothing to fear. Just something about the way he held himself. He was taller than most Orientals; maybe 5'11" or even six feet, and he stood with obvious self-assurance.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Mr. McGarrett," the young man said, "but I have come a very long way. May I come aboard?" Though the youngster spoke softly, he had a deep baritone voice.

McGarrett nodded, gesturing for the young man to board his vessel. "What can I do for you?" he asked as they both settled into the stern, one on each side of the tiller.

The young man sat ramrod-straight, with exaggerated formality, showing a particular deference to McGarrett. "I have come to ask you to return with me to Japan."

This caught McGarrett by surprise. "Why?" He leaned forward on the tiller. "What's your name?"

Return to the index.

Is Steve McGarrett Catholic?

article by Maryann Gallant

An article speculating lightly on the spiritual origins of Hawaii Five-O...

In the beginning there was Jack Lord and Leonard Freeman, and Leonard Freeman said "Let there be Steve McGarrett."...

Return to the index.

The Test of Fire

by Peggy Hartsook

Did Dan Williams shoot Steve McGarrett, and could he have done something to have prevented it from happening? The question nearly tears the team apart.

Watching Steve being taken away to the ambulance, Danny almost missed Kono's mild question. "I think you already know the answer to that. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to ride with that ambulance."

"We all would. But you know we gotta stay here."

Kono's reasonable tone was beginning to grate on Danny's already frayed nerves. "Look, I know we have to assign blame and all of that, but right now I think Steve is more important, don't you?"

"That's a cheap shot, Danny." Chin Ho's nerves were as worn as Danny's and he struck back with uncharacteristic anger. "You know there'll be a thousand questions about what happened here tonight. And you're the one they'll be asking."

"Chin," Dan said slowly, "I'm not sure I'm the one who hit Steve." Even as he spoke, he wondered what the hell he was talking about. There was something, an impression perhaps, but he was no longer sure he was the one who hit Steve.

"I wouldn't want to face it, either, brudda. But you're the one who stood up and started firing wild."

"I wasn't firing wild, Kono. I admit, my emotions were running high and I took a risk, but that doesn't mean I hit Steve."

"Hey, it was an accident, man. We know you didn't mean to; you just got carried away." Kono was back to the voice of rationality.

"I didn't get carried away!" Dan shouted, suddenly growing impatient with Kono's thinly-veiled accusations and attracting several curious stares from the bystanding HPD men.

Chin whirled around after having determinedly tried to ignore the conversation by talking to Duke Lukela. "You've been on the prod for several days about Long. You decided to get him, no matter what. And now Steve's paying the price for your vendetta!"

In all the years they had known each other, Dan Williams had never seen Chin Ho as angry as he was now. It shocked him out of his own anger. "Chin, I admit I was mad. But I'm really not sure if I'm the one who did get Steve. Give me a chance, will you?"

Return to the index.

And When You're Done With Them, Throw Them Away

by Karen Rhodes

The murders of two prostitutes and a pimp lead Steve into the path of a rich and arrogant man...

McGarrett sat in his office with his desk chair tilted back, his right leg cocked over his left, and the heel of his shoe resting against the edge of his desk. In his lap lay the brown file folder detailing the evidence in the death of Ana Chen. There wasn't much. He stared at the report, absently sipping the strong coffee his secretary, Jenny, had poured. He had taken off his jacket and loosened his tie and gone immediately to the folder, violating for the first time since his appointment to office his daily custom of checking the morning mail before anything else. All he could think of -- and he'd lost sleep over it -- was last night and the bodies which had littered Hotel Street. His intellect told him he was in danger of becoming obsessed with the Ana Chen case, and with the death of Gloria Kuilima, whose folder lay closed on his desk. His compassion told his intellect to shut the hell up.

He didn't notice he had company until he caught the spicy pungent scent of Chin Ho Kelly's pipe. He looked up and saw the quiet Chinese detective regarding him calmly. To Chin's right, Danny Williams sat with a curious smile on his face. Steve got the feeling he was being studied like a lab specimen.

"Out with it, Danno," he said.

Williams shrugged and ran a hand through his curly brown hair. "Well," he began, then stopped and seemed to make a decision. The smile disappeared, as if Danny were saying, 'I'm not going to bullshit you, Steve.' "Okay. You're sitting there staring holes into that file -- Ana Chen, isn't it? The prostitute who was beaten to death last night?"

Steve nodded. "And -- ?"

"And you haven't touched the morning mail. And -- " Danny drew the syllable out for emphasis, "you've got a look on your face like Dana Andrews in 'Laura'."

That made Steve chuckle self-consciously. "Am I that transparent?"

"Scrutable," Chin put in, grinning.

Steve's expression went somber and he rose, moving to the open French doors which gave out onto the lanai in front of Iolani Palace. He stared at the trees, at the street, without seeing them. Finally, he said quietly, "Something that happened a long time ago has been coming back to me." He paused, looking back at Kelly and Williams. "That was no way for those girls to die. Hell, it's no way for them to live. Now, why? And why Eddie Lopaka, too?"

"Ana Chen died what time?" Chin asked.

"Doc Bergman says about 7 yesterday evening," Steve replied.

"You think maybe Eddie beat her up? Not unusual for a pimp to beat up a girl he thinks might be holding out on him." Chin tapped his pipe against the chair arm, making Steve wince, then drew out a small steel tamper from his pocket and went to work replenishing his pipe.

"You know I don't let just anyone smoke in my office," Steve said with a lopsided smile.

Kelly grinned in response. "I know, Boss. That's real friendship."

Steve laughed, shaking his head. Then he continued soberly, "I don't know; Eddie could have been the one. But then, why was he shot, and why was the other girl shot? Who killed them?"

"Yeah, that doesn't make sense," Danny put in. "I mean, nobody on the street cares if a pimp beats up one of his girls. As Chin said, it happens all the time."

"What a life," Steve murmured, more to himself than to the others.

Return to the index.

Those Five-O Villains We Loved to Hate

article by Jerry Mezerow

One fan's fond reminiscences of the bad guys who plagued the Five-O team...

I was always intrigued by the various villains on Hawaii Five-O. They had charm and wit, and were diabolical. They were the type you really couldn't hate; in fact, you even had some respect for them because they were good at what they did....

Return to the index.

Of All Sad Words

by Karen Rhodes

An expanded vignette from "Man in a Steel Frame" examines the intimate feelings of Steve McGarrett and Cathi Ryan...

"I'd like to see you again, Cathi," McGarrett said.

She hesitated and he saw fear seize her for an instant. Any mystery prodded him, enticing him on. Here was a real honey of a mystery. And a honey of a lady. What was she so scared of? Was she married? No, he didn't think so, though she must have been at one time. He knew he'd risk everything for the chance of winning her.

"I would like that," she said slowly, as if she were trying to convince herself.

"Dinner tonight?" Idiot, he berated himself. Don't push so hard. Always pushing so hard...

She faltered, gazing down at the cool stone floor of her studio. "Tonight would not be good, I'm afraid." She looked up into his eyes.

He felt himself losing control again, and decided that he liked the feeling after all. "Tomorrow then?"

"Yes," she said simply, and entered the studio, closing the door.

McGarrett turned and walked to his car, totally unaware of his surroundings.

Return to the index.

Poodle of Blood

by Maryann Gallant

One innocuous little clue leads the Five-O team to a vengeful killer...

Steve studied the room, then glanced out the bedroom window. Danny reminded him, "Twenty floors up and no fire escape. The killer must have come through the door."

Steve checked the closet and found several pieces of luggage on the floor. He picked each one up and said, "Funny -- if he was planning on flying out early this morning, he didn't have any of his bags packed for the trip. Are you sure he was leaving this morning?"

"Saw the ticket myself, Steve. It's on a table in the living room. A one-way ticket to L.A."

"One way? That's very interesting." Steve checked a shelf in the closet. "Look here. He's got stuff thrown in every corner of the closet, yet here's a nice clean empty spot that's almost half the size of the entire shelf."

"Yeah, as though something belonged there."

Steve glanced down at the luggage and then back up at the empty shelf. One by one he lifted the bags and placed them on the shelf, rearranging them several times until they seemed to fit. "I'd say these bags belong there, Danno."

"Yeah, but what does it mean?"

Return to the index.

Friends For Life, Enemies Forever

by Keleka

Steve's old Annapolis roommate returns to Hawaii to take care of some personal business that includes blackmail, murder, and classified material...

"Steve," he heard Danny's voice say. "Sorry to disturb you."

"What is it, Danno?"

"Dead Marine, Steve. I think you'd better come take a look."

"Can't you handle it?"

The silence on the other end told McGarrett that he had surprised Danny with his reluctance to put work ahead of his personal life for once.

"We found some classified material, Steve," Williams said finally.

McGarrett sighed. "What's the address?... Got it. I'll be right there."

"Don't tell me," Bricks said after McGarrett returned the handset to the cradle.

"I'm sorry," McGarrett said, rising to his feet just as the waiter arrived with his dinner. "This is why no one wants a cop."

"Don't apologize for doing your job, Steve," Bricks said. "I wouldn't."

Return to the index.

From Pau Hana 2

A Thin Line

by Deborah Doran

An "alternate universe" story speculates on what might have happened if McGarrett had been pressured by the governor to hire a female instead of Ben Kokua...

"McGarrett, we did our best. Sometimes we lose. Five-O is not infallible. If only we were."

"When a child's life is involved, we should be."

Steve shoved away from his desk and strode out onto the lanai. Ignoring her normal caution, Ting Lee followed.

"What did you get with your appointment as head of Five-O?" Ting Lee demanded, her tightly controlled emotions exploding. "A guarantee that all the innocents would be unharmed? A promise our cases would fit some nice, neat pattern? A contract that evidence would arrive on time and gift-wrapped with a pretty red bow? If you did, McGarrett, I suggest you go back to the governor and complain."

Steve's eyes shifted in her direction. The layered night shadows cast by nearby palms hid their expression. Ting Lee held her breath. She had opened her big mouth and said too much. Foolishly, loudly, and hotly expressed her beliefs to the one man she had no right to speak to in that manner. Now he was going to blast her back with his own Irish temper.

"When was the last time you ate, Ting Lee?" Steve asked.

"What?" Ting Lee replied, the word coming out in a startled whisper.

"Food. When was the last time you had any sort of a meal?"

"I don't know."

"Me either. How about I call the Golden Dragon and have Peter send up some chow mein?"

A genuine smile graced Ting Lee's soft lips. "You realize, McGarrett, it's a bad sign when you know the owner of a take-out joint by his first name."

Steve's characteristic half-grin flickered across his serious face. "Bachelor habits. Sue me."

"No way. I'd lose."

Crystal blue eyes appraised her for a long moment. Ting Lee tried not to notice the way he looked at her, to ignore the uncertain breathless sensation fluttering within her. Steve McGarrett was awakening an emotion she dared not give name to. She feared it. Feared what such a reckless feeling would do to her. Not with this man. Not now. Not ever.

She brushed waist-length black hair back over her shoulder and hitched up her purse strap. Time for her to go. Before she was tempted beyond recall.

"Well, time for me to be heading home," Ting Lee said and hated the lame sound of her statement. She was not thinking clearly.

"Not before you have dinner," Steve said firmly.

"I'll grab something at home."

"No, you won't. If the Golden Dragon's not to your liking, I know a place about three minutes from here. It's small, quiet, and not frequented by haoles. The food's excellent. If you like Chinese."

"You ask such a question with my obvious ancestry?"

Brilliant, Taylor, just brilliant, Ting Lee chided herself as she felt the pulling force of Steve's eyes upon her again. How do you make a graceful exit after that blundering come-on? She had not meant what she said. Or was it a Freudian slip? Had she really wanted to say yes? No! Too crazy. She was overly tired and because of it she was saying bizarre things.

"Thanks, but -- " Ting Lee began, and edged towards the lanai doors.

Steve's grip was strong and certain on her arm. "Argue with me on the way."

Helpless, Ting Lee allowed Steve to escort her out of his office.

Return to the index.

Sailor's Luck

by Karen Rhodes

Dan Williams may be betting his career -- if not his life -- that a teenage boy found with the murder weapon did not kill his own father...

"You believe him, Danno?" Steve asked after Mike Barron had been escorted out of the Five-O chief's office to a holding cell while his fate was decided. McGarrett stood behind his desk, his coat off, his tie loosened. His forefingers were hooked into his trouser pockets and challenged glowed in his eyes.

"Yes. He's not a killer, Steve. He was scared back there."

"Okay." McGarrett rapped a knuckle on the desktop. "Okay. I'll tell you what: I'm going to release him into your custody. I won't charge him. Yet. You're responsible for him. That'll afford him protection, in case he is innocent and the real killer feels he has something to fear from him. And if he's guilty," McGarrett warned with a grim smile, "watch your back."

"Yeah," Dan replied. Sometimes, he thought, you either believe in someone or you don't. You have to lay it on the line. He started for the door, then turned. "Thanks, Steve."

Return to the index.

Fearless Tiger

by Maryann Gallant

In a sequel to "Blind Tiger", Steve encounters Edith Lovallo. This time it's Edith who's targeted by a killer...

A pleasant-looking woman in a nurse's uniform with a pink sweater draped over her shoulders knelt beside the victim. She immediately set about examining the man's eyes for any reaction, taking note of his breathing and checking his pulse rate. "I was just on my way home," she said.

In a sudden swift movement, Steve sat up straight. As he gazed at the woman, his hands fell away from the victim.

"No!" the woman scolded. "I want you to keep applying pressure!"

Steve did as he was told, never taking his startled eyes off her face. Softly he whispered, "Nurse Lovallo?"

Edith, who had been concentrating on the victim from the moment she arrived, glanced in Steve's direction for the first time. Her face registered surprise as if fond memories from the past caused a blush to come to her cheeks. She turned quickly away.


"Yes, Mr. McGarrett." Now you just keep pressure on that wound."

"The ambulance is here," a man said.

As the victim was being placed on the stretcher, Edith informed the ambulance technicians of the patient's condition. "He's lost a lot of blood but his breathing is steady and he's got a good strong pulse."

Once the victim was on his way, the crowd dispersed and Edith Lovallo tried walking away. Steve caught her by the elbow. "Hey, wait a minute."

"I'm sorry, Mr. McGarrett, I have no time. I'm already late for work." She turned.

He didn't let go. "A moment ago you said you were on your way home, remember?"

She blushed. "So I did."

"What do you know? I finally get to meet you. How long has it been? Two years?"

"Two and a half, but who's counting?"

Steve's eyes danced as he smiled. "Obviously, you are."

Edith blushed a second time. "Really, Mr. McGarrett!"

"What's with this 'Mr. McGarrett'? It's Steve. We're not patient and nurse now."

"Okay -- Steve. But I really must be going."

"What's your hurry? I waited a long time to meet you. At least have a cup of coffee with me. I never did get to say thanks."

Return to the index.

Scientific Method

by Karen Rhodes and Tristan A. MacAvery

Steve is ordered to go along with a psychologist's experiment regarding criminal behavior and finds that the real criminal behavior is closer to the experiment than he originally thought...

"There's just something that doesn't quite fit, Steve. I can't put my finger on it," Dan had said. "It's like something about that guy is out of phase."

McGarrett had nodded his agreement. "Yeah. He gives me bad vibes. All these crimes he's predicted seem too pat. There's something fishy about it all." Both men knew this instinct, something Barclay's theory threw out entirely, counted for a great deal in their work. Both had learned long ago, painfully, that a man ignored such instinct at his peril.

Now he couldn't shake the disruptive feeling slowly vibrating just below his conscious mind. Every joint aching from long hours at the office, he finally rose, grabbed his jacket, and headed out the door.

He trotted down the dark koa-wood staircase and out the front of the building into the soft island night. The streets were almost deserted; his car stood alone in the lot. He opened the door and settled into the seat, muttering tiredly as he fumbled for his car keys in his coat pocket.

The abrupt opening of the passenger-side door startled him out of his lethargy. Before he could begin to bring his right hand across to reach for his pistol, the barrel of a .45 poked painfully into his ribs. In the dim illumination of the street light, he could see the pockmarked face of the tall man who had him at such a disadvantage.

"Hello, Chong," McGarrett said evenly. He placed both hands prominently on the steering wheel. "Where to?"

Chow Lee Chong's raspy whisper gave Steve a shiver as the tall Chinese said, "Out please." He waved the automatic, its barrel indicating a sleek black Cadillac that pulled up alongside Steve's Mercury. "Leave the driving to us."

McGarrett couldn't suppress a grin. "I didn't know you had a sense of humor, Chong."

"I don't."

Return to the index.

Marching Through Georgia

by Teresa L. Conaway

Summoned to the White House by President Jimmy Carter, McGarrett remembers his first encounter with the Georgian. It was in his plebe year at Annapolis, and Carter was an upperclassman...

Carter nodded, impressed. "Your father was, I take it, Mr. McGarrett, a Navy man."

"Sir, no sir. He was an infantryman."

Carter shifted in his chair to face McGarrett, ready to move in for the kill. "Gentlemen, he said to the rest of the table, "we have an Army brat among us. Tell us, Mr. McGarrett, why didn't you choose West Point?"

Even at seventeen, Steve McGarrett knew better than to tell his real reason for choosing Annapolis over West Point: he hated marching. "Sir, because the Navy is the superior service, sir," he said, confident that answer would get him off the hook.

"Well put, Mr. McGarrett," Carter said. "As an Army brat you must know quite a few marching songs. Sing one for us."

"Sir?" McGarrett froze. Sing? He couldn't sing.

"Get up on your chair, McGarrett. Sing us a marching song."

In a daze, McGarrett stood, pulled out his chair and climbed up on the seat. He could see some of the middies at other tables looking to see what was going on. It wasn't unusual for plebes to take to song at meal time, but this would be the first time this year. He stood there in silence for a moment, feeling his face turning crimson and the sweat starting to break out on his forehead.

"Well, go on," Carter said. "Surely you know at least one marching song."

Return to the index.

The Way to Dusty Death

by Karen Rhodes

When Steve was 13, his father was murdered. Now, 30 years later, the man who did it is in Hawaii accused of another murder. What if he's innocent this time?...

Dan saw Steve arrive and followed him into the inner office. "Got an ID on those prints, Steve. From the knife that killed that prostitute." He pointed to a file folder lying on Steve's desk.

McGarrett grabbed it up, opening it. "Thomas Edward Carson," he muttered as he read the information. "Long record, mostly petty stuff, mainland." He flipped over to a wirephoto that had come in that morning with the rap sheet; he felt his chest tighten. The man in the photo looked unremarkable as a human specimen, plain, with straight sandy hair and pale eyes. But it was a face indelibly etched in the memory of the Five-O chief. The name hadn't registered; the face seemed to reach across time.

Suddenly thirty years vanished and Steve McGarrett stood in the Brooklyn precinct house, outside bars that held the man who had run down his father. Thirteen-year-old Steve's voice had sounded suddenly old as he said, "You murdered my father. I'm never going to forget you."

He laid the folder down and walked slowly out the French doors onto the lanai across the face of the palace.

Dan took a cursory glance at the photograph, an unfamiliar face. He flipped through the file; at the fourth page he softly said, "Wow." Steve hadn't got that far into the file. He hadn't needed to. Dan followed Steve out onto the lanai.

Steve gripped the ornate ironwork of the railing, his knuckles white. A muscle worked feverishly in his tightly-clamped jaw. Hate boiled up in his gut like lava in Kilauea. He felt it creep up to his throat. He sensed more than saw Danno's presence. "Thirty years ago," he said in a hoarse voice, "Thomas Edward Carson held up a store in Brooklyn. As he made his getaway, a man was walking across the street. Carson could have swerved, could have turned. But he didn't. He made straight for the man, ran him down, killed him."

"Steve --"

McGarrett gripped the ironwork even tighter, appearing as if he could break it off. His body shook as he struggled to keep control. His voice on the edge of breaking, he said, "The man was John Joseph Patrick McGarrett --"

Dan nodded. "Your father."

"Find Carson, Danno," Steve said in a voice that made Williams visibly shiver. "Bring him in."

Return to the index.

Still Frame

by Jackie Edwards and Gina Martin

In an interesting interpretation of McGarrett's love life, two of his old flames, Margo Cooper and Nicole Wylie, engage in a bitter and deadly rivalry for his affections...

Nicole's expression hardened. "What do you want?"

"You off this island and out of Steve McGarrett's life. Forever." Margo spoke the words simply, but there was ice in her tone and in her gaze.

Margo pulled an envelope from her oversized purse. "Just like that," she agreed, tipping the manila envelope. Onto the table spilled copies of articles and photos Margo had found in the Advertiser's archives.

Nicole stared at the pile of paper before her, resisting the urge to reach out and sweep the damning evidence to the floor. The headline on the top page screamed at her. Below it was a picture of her and Ravasco.

From somewhere far away, Nicole heard Margo's voice taunt her. "How do you think Steve would like a few choice photos of him and his hooker, accompanied by the proper disclosures, of course."

Nicole lifted her gaze to meet Margo's. "Bitch," she hissed, hands clenching into fists.

Margo shrugged, a smile pulling at her mouth. "Well? Will you leave now, without seeing Steve? Or do I take these to the local rags?"

Nicole bit her lip, then swallowed hard. She couldn't let Margo release these clippings. It would ruin Steve if the press got wind of the fact that he was romantically involved with a former hooker, and had been for some time. Slowly she nodded. "All right. You win."

"I thought you'd see things my way." Margo rose to leave, then turned back to Nicole. "You can have these as a souvenir. I have another set." She turned and left the bar with Nicole still staring at the blackmail evidence in a state of shock.

Return to the index.

When in Disgrace With Fortune and Men's Eyes

by Mary Ellen Wofford

In an unusual story, we get the first-person account of a murder witness and potential victim who becomes involved with Dan Williams...

I walked to where the stretcher held Kimi. Watched them load her in the ambulance and drive away. I stood and watched the lights turn the corner, vanishing as fast as Kimi vanished from my life.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Williams.

"You'll have to come with me, Miss MacDonald. I need to take a statement from you, talk to you about a few things."

I didn't say anything.

He hesitated. "Are you all right? Do you need to see a doctor or call anyone?"

His hand felt warm on my shoulder.

"No, I don't need a doctor and there's no one to call. But I'd like to go by my place and take a shower, if it's ok? I could really use a shower."

I felt as if I'd never be clean again. Kimi's blood had stained me through and through.

He smiled a lopsided smile and suddenly he seemed very young. "Sure, we can do that. Come with me."

Suddenly I remembered my old Rambler. "What about my car? Can I take it home?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, it'll have to go to the yard. We have to do cop things to it, you know?" The lopsided smile peeked out again briefly. "We'll go in my car, ok? You'll get yours back in a few days."

I nodded.

I followed him and he opened the door for me. I couldn't believe it. No one had opened a door for me in years. I'd have to tell Kimi about it.

Sharp pain, heart pain, forced a few more tears out of my eyes. I'd never tell Kimi anything again. A light rain began to fall as the police detective with the gentle blue eyes drove me to my apartment.

Return to the index.

McGarrett and the Babe

by Patricia Walker

McGarrett encounters a golden lady who leads him into a dark plot to assassinate a prominent British diplomat...

He saw her for the first time early on Monday morning. He was jogging through Ala Moana Park, enjoying the coolness and the soft clear light of dawn. She came out of nowhere, running beside him, sometimes ahead, turning to laugh at him over her shoulder. She had that blonde goldenness he was particularly fond of, and when she parted company with him at the light at Ala Moana and Piikoi Street, he watched her go, her sleek muscles flowing sensuously, and wondered if she belonged to anybody special.

She joined him again on Tuesday, and was waiting at the entrance to the park on Wednesday. Steve was aware of admiring glances from other joggers as they passed by, and was surprised at how comfortable he felt with this beautiful blonde creature beside him. He hadn't spoken to her, and although she communicated to him with eyes alight and smiling mouth and that gorgeous body of hers, he hadn't heard her voice.

She always left him at the busy intersection outside the park and he began to wonder about her through the day, where she lived, how she occupied her time, what her name was. In his own mind he began to call her The Babe.

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Betcha Can't Kill Just One

by Karen Rhodes

In a tale of the thirteenth season, Five-O is hit by vicious murderers on a spree as Dan Williams returns in time to help in the investigation...

McGarrett's office window was dark, but Dan Williams knew where he'd find his old boss, with what the Star-Bulletin headlines had screamed. Steve'd be in there, brooding, blaming himself. Dan shook his head and wondered how the man had lasted as long as he had without going stark raving nuts. Must be true, what they say: The Iron Man, Nine Thousand Lives.

Dan was wheezing by the time he got to the second-floor landing inside Iolani Palace. The climb up the outside steps had been tough enough. In Berkeley, he just walked in a street-level door. No steps. He chided himself for having gotten soft.

He turned at the head of the stairs and walked down the corridor to the door marked "Five-O". He hesitated before going in. 'You can't go home again', he recited to himself. No, but you can stop by for a visit.

He turned the knob slowly, opened the door, and stepped in. Suddenly, memories overwhelmed him. He saw the office as in daylight, with people bustling back and forth -- Steve, his staff, secretaries and stenos, uniformed HPD officers. He heard the noises -- phones ringing, typewriters clacking, people talking, the teletype beating out its messages. Now all this new stuff was coming in. Back in Berkeley, they were arguing about computers. Not big ones which took up half a room, but little ones that fit right on your desk with room to spare. Things were changing.

The vision from the past faded. He stood alone in the darkened outer office, staring at the massive wooden door which now said only "McGarrett". Is Steve changing with the times, Dan asked himself. Or is he becoming a dinosaur? Somehow he couldn't see Steve sitting at his desk consulting a microcomputer. It was always chalkboards, maps, lists, photos tacked to a bulletin board. And the infinite and unfathomable ability of the human mind, not some mechanical brain.

Hell, there were people over fifteen years ago who said Steve was a dinosaur then. Maybe some things don't change. Like courage. Loyalty. Responsibility. Or they shouldn't change, anyway. Dan wasn't so sure society wasn't getting away from itself, losing its direction and its grip. Steve McGarrett would never lose his.

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From Pau Hana 3

10,000 Trekkies

by Teresa L. Conaway and Karen Rhodes

McGarrett and the Five-O team enter a strange world they had never imagined existed -- the world of a Star Trek convention. There's been a robbery, and one of the Trek cast is implicated...

The Five-O chief examined the photo briefly. Doesn't look like a criminal, he thought. But then, what does a criminal look like? He'd learned long ago not to make assumptions based purely on appearances.

McGarrett handed the program guide to Duke. "Get copies of that photo out to all units. And get a background on this guy." He paused, then turned to Estes. "You got another one of those?" There's my scorecard, he told himself. Estes produced another program book. McGarrett slipped it into an inside coat pocket. "Was anyone else around at that hour?"

Harold Bluestein shook his head. "Probably not. Trekfen don't get up very early, because they're usually up late at night. Room parties, late panels, club meetings, fizzbin games. Things like that go on all night."

"What games?" McGarrett thought he had heard more new words in this brief hour than in any one month since his days at the Naval Academy.

"Fizzbin," Bluestein said with a smile. "It's a card game." He began to describe the rules. J.C. tugged at his sleeve and shook its head slowly.

"Well, never mind." Bluestein shrugged. "It would take too long to explain."

I gotta get outta here, McGarrett thought. Another of J.C.'s buttons caught his attention. 'I'm a doctor, not a bricklayer.' Whatever. "Okay, Duke," he said as he headed for the door. "Wrap it up. Tell Danno to let me know if he comes up with anything."

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Chin's Errand

by Karen Rhodes

In a story based on a true incident, Chin Ho Kelly goes shopping and ends up nearly victimized by a pair of scam artist. When a member of his church is also victimized, Chin vows to get the crooks...

Chin noticed the willowy young woman with straight blonde hair who sat in the passenger seat of the compact car. He glanced again at the man, wondering what he was doing just standing there with a scowl on his face. Cop instinct snapped on; he approached his own car keeping a wary eye on the kid.

He stopped at the rear of his white Ford sedan. He opened the trunk and laid the packages down inside. Let him make the first move, Chin decided.

The young man finally spoke, and his tone was hostile. "This your car?"

Chin slammed the trunk lid down. "Sure, it's my car. You think I'm going to put packages in someone else's trunk?" What a dumb question.

"You drive it here?"

"No, I carried it, bruddah." Chin wished he were armed; there was something unsettling about the youngster. "You got a problem?"

"Yeah, Pops, I have a problem. Your car's touching my car."

"So?" Chin wondered if this was some kind of racial thing. This kid got some warped notions of racial purity that even to have the car of a Chinese touch his offends him in some way? Too bad. The kid'll just have to deal with the Irish half, then.

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The Strange Affair of Caryn Pike

by Clark Burner

In a send-up of the zine editor, a Five-O fan goes round the bend when the series disappears from the television, and a nefarious plot is suspected...

On evenings when she had to work late, Caryn had found a bar not far from her office where she could catch the show before going home. There was only a small television set behind the bar, but the bartender there at MacHale's Bar and Grill was a regular follower of the lottery and O.T.B. results broadcast on the same channel, so the set stayed tuned to Caryn's usual station. Maurice, the bartender, even knew how to make the tropical drinks that Caryn had come to love. He always presented them to her with a flourish, garnished with a pineapple wedge and topped with a little bamboo umbrella, just the way she liked them.

It was there at MacHale's that Caryn first realized Steve had noticed her, too. It had been a typical dark, gloomy, mid-winter day in New York. The temperature had just gotten warm enough to turn the occasional snow flurries into sleet, and the entire population of the city seemed to have an attitude. Caryn had gotten to the bar early enough to warm up with a couple of drinks before the show came on, and was feeling pretty relaxed by the time the Five-O theme music swelled up. She blew a kiss to Steve as the camera zoomed in on him, and as his face filled the screen, he seemed to lock eyes with her. His left eye gave Caryn a broad wink as he smiled, and then the moment was past. Caryn blinked in surprise. She looked around, but no one else in the bar was paying any attention to the show, and nobody seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. After this, Caryn began to pay even closer attention to the shows, looking for other clues that Steve was trying to communicate with her.

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Inward Journey

by Maryann Gallant

Worn out and burned out, Dan Williams leaves Five-O. He heads to New York to visit his Aunt Clara, and finds himself pulled into a crime scheme that nearly costs him everything...

Danny sat down on the blue and gold satin bedspread as Aunt Clara pulled it away from the pillows revealing gold satin sheets. She started to pull his dampened sweater from him.

Resenting being treated like a child, Danny protested. "I can do that for myself, Aunt Clara."

"Good. I'll get the doctor."

"I don't need a doctor to tell me I've got the flu."

She stood in front of him with her hands on her ample hips. Her five-foot stature seemed to tower over him. "Can you also prescribe your own medicine?"

Shyly he said, "No."

"I should say not!" She smoothed a strand of her gray hair that had freed itself from its bobbypin.

Danny tried explaining about meeting the Morrison girl but Aunt Clara was having none of it. "You just never mind. You can tell me about it later. I'm calling the doctor and I want you in bed." She addressed Tommy. "You see to it."

"Yes, ma'am."

Danny slid into the warm bed and fell into a fitful sleep. Several days later, he woke feeling rested and refreshed, with the exception of a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He wondered, Could it be possible my outburst at Steve was due to the flu beginning to take hold? Or to the exhaustion? He glanced up as Aunt Clara entered the room.

"How are you feeling, Danny?" Aunt Clara asked.

"Like I was dragged behind a team of horses over the Rocky Mountains."

"You're feeling better. That's good." She beamed in pleasure. "By the way, that nice Mr. McGarrett called. Wasn't that thoughtful of him?"

When Danny didn't answer, she went to him and sat on the edge of his bed. "You gonna tell me about it?"

"About what?"

"Don't play coy with me, Danny. You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. The argument between you and Mr. McGarrett." She paused, then explained, "You talked about it in your fever."

"Nothing much to tell. I just got fed up!"

"And turned in your badge after all these years? I don't believe a word of it! Oh, Danny, you loved it so. It's just not like you!"

"It's been building a long time." He pondered a moment then said with anger, "The system isn't working! Ninety-nine criminals out of a hundred we catch, the courts set free!"

"It can't be as bad as all that."

"Maybe not that bad but pretty darn close. I mean, why bother? What's the point?"

"You tell me."

"I can't even tell myself."

Return to the index.

Bitter Harvest

by Karen Rhodes

In a sequel to Pau Hana 1's "Wild Rice", Steve's son Kenji returns to Hawaii for a visit. Their reunion plans are interrupted by a plot to compel Steve to steal classified material...

"What happened? Where's Kenji?"

"Gone," Steve sobbed.

"Gone? What do you mean?"

Steve slowly slid out of the car, leaning on the door frame. His deep breathing and the tightness in his jaw told Dan the cop was taking over from the grieving father. He straightened and looked Dan squarely in the eyes, fully in command of himself. "Kidnapped. Come on." He led Dan back around to the beach side and into the house. He faltered only a moment as they passed the table on which breakfast for two was laid out. He showed the bed, the bathroom window. Then he guided Dan outside again to the marks under the window and out front. "Lab team's on the way."

An HPD unit glided to a stop on the shoulder of the highway. Sergeant Nick Noble got out and approached the two Five-O men. Dan saw an opportunity to get Steve away from the beach house where, Dan admitted frankly, his boss would only be underfoot. But he needs to be in on the action or he'll break apart. "Steve, why don't you let Nick drive you back to the office. Get Joe in to do a sketch of Kenji. The uniforms will need it, and we can circulate 'em in the usual places. I'll have your car brought in later."

Steve gave a brief, tired smile. "Thanks, Danno. I know what you're trying to do." He sighed. "Okay, but we don't need a sketch." He re-entered the house with Dan following, and went into the guest bedroom. He picked Kenji's camera up from the dresser. "Get Che Fong to develop the film in here. There's a shot of Kenji and me in front of Iolani Palace. Use that, though I don't think it's really going to do a lot of good."

"Why not?"

Steve clenched his right hand. "Why Kenji? Why now? There's only one answer." He opened his fist, spreading his fingers, to emphasize his words.

"Somebody wants to get to you."

"Yeah," Steve said with a nod. He strode away a few steps, then turned abruptly. "And who would have the information network necessary to find out Kenji is my son? Only you and I and Sessue Namura and Kenji knew that. Who would have the balls to kidnap my son from my own house, while I slept upstairs?" Steve's voice fell to a near-whisper. "Who would want to hurt me, really hurt me?"

Dan didn't want to say the name, but he knew. "Wo Fat."

"Wo Fat." Hatred flashed in Steve's soul, and he could tell from Dan's expression it must also show in his eyes. "I'm going to make him sorry he ever thought of the idea." Steve turned and walked out of the house. Without saying a word to Nick, he headed for the HPD car parked out front.

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Exultate Justi

by Patricia Walker

Two thugs pick a near-perfect hiding place while on the lam -- a church choir making a singing tour of Hawaii's churches.

Gloria and Paul were seated in the highbacked white chairs while Dan Williams, Chin Ho Kelly, and Kono Kalakaua stood at ease in front of the bookcases against the high windows. Steve McGarrett walked around from behind his desk and seated himself on its corner. He picked up two photos.

"Mr. Harshfield, there's some information I hope you can give us. Do you recognize these two men?" McGarrett handed the photos to Paul, who adjusted his glasses while Gloria strained over his shoulder. Paul shook his head. "I've never seen these two men before." Gloria agreed.

Steve handed them two more photos. "What about these?"

"Yes," said Paul immediately. "They recently joined our group. Their names are John Stacey and Horace Brown." Gloria nodded vigorously, her red curly hair bouncing.

"Mr. Harshfield." Steve McGarrett rose and moved around to sit in his swivel office chair. "These men you've just identified are known to police departments across the United States as John Starace and Jesse Duarte. They were recently implicated in the three million dollar robbery of a casino in Lake Tahoe, Nevada."

Gloria drew a quick breath. "I read about that in the newspapers. The men pretended to be casino attendants or something. Oh! My God! You are saying that John and Horace are the two robbers and they are running with the money!" She put her face in her hands and stared at Steve from between her long fingers. "And those other two men are after them. And the money?"

Her well-proportioned body quivered and she said to her husband, "I told you so! I never liked them. They couldn't carry a tune if you tied it to them, and Horace was a downright lech."

Return to the index.


by Karen Rhodes

McGarrett gets personally involved when an old love of his is brutally raped on a beach. It's only one in a string of attacks, a case which also introduces McGarrett and John Manicote, the new man in the D.A.'s office...

Only Frank's Mercedes was in the garage. On the way back to the living room, McGarrett got the information on make, model, year, color, and license tag of Abby's car and made a phone call, instructing the HPD dispatcher to issue a bulletin on the car. Obviously, Steve told himself, the rapist stole her car after he was through. If we're lucky, that bastard's prints will be all over it.

McGarrett repeated his offer to drive Bonner to the hospital. Bonner stood for a moment, his face an unreadable mask. Finally, he said, "No, Steve, I won't be going to the hospital."

"Why not?"

"I don't think there's anything to be gained by it," Bonner said coldly.

McGarrett stared. "I don't believe what I just heard. Dammit, Frank, if there's ever been a time in Abby's life that she's needed you, it's now."

"I'm not sure she's ever needed me." Frank walked back to the bar and poured himself another drink.

Partly sympathetic, partly skeptical, McGarrett asked, "Have you two been having problems?" It wouldn't be the first time a man had attacked his wife and tried to make it look like an accident or a criminal intrusion.

"To put it mildly," Bonner replied. Then with his eyes narrowed, he asked, "You're not accusing me, are you, Steve?"

"Should I?"

Bonner set his heavy glass down with hard finality. "No, you shouldn't. Yes, we've been having marital problems, but that's not the way I solve problems. You should know that."

McGarrett raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "All right, Frank. I had to ask. I have to cover all possibilities."

"You go to hell," Bonner muttered. He strode to the door and held it open. "Are you asking these questions as a cop, or as a man who would like me out of the way to have another fling with my wife?"

"That's a cheap shot, pal. My affair with Abby ended seven years ago, long before you two were married. What's eating you?" When Bonner didn't respond, McGarrett crossed to the door and stopped. "Come to the hospital. Abby needs you."

Bonner shook his head.

McGarrett walked out the door to his car. As he drove away, he examined the anger he felt toward Frank Bonner. How can he turn his back on Abby? Is he afraid to face her? Or himself? Abby's obviously told him about our relationship seven years ago, but is he so damned insecure he has to throw that back at me now? Steve didn't know what Frank would ultimately do. For his own part, he resolved not to abandon Abby in such an hour of need...

Return to the index.

Special Section: The Governor Murder Cases

Two Pau Hana writers treat the same idea: the governor is a suspect in a murder.

A Sense of Duty

by Karen Rhodes

A Chicago mobster is murdered on the Big Island, at the governor's private residence there...

"Did you kill him?"

The governor held McGarrett's gaze for a few seconds, then looked away. "It isn't that simple."

"The hell it isn't! Either you killed Dennehy, or you didn't. What's so complicated about that?"

The governor made no reply. Just as McGarrett was about to speak again, Alex Kealoha emerged from the adjoining office. "Steve, you want to look at the -- " He hesitated, then finished the sentence. " -- crime scene?"

McGarrett gave the governor one last look, then followed the Hilo cop into the governor's office. On the plush carpet was a dark stain. On the floor near the desk lay a heavy brass candlestick.

"Murder weapon?" McGarrett asked, pointing at the candlestick.

"Looks that way. We've taken blood and hair samples off the end, there." Kealoha pointed to the base of the object, where a dark stain marred the green felt bottom. "We lifted prints off, too."

The Hilo chief didn't have to tell McGarrett whose prints they were. Steve walked back out to the living room, approaching the governor. "Do you have anything else to say?"

"Not now."

"Do you understand the situation you're placing yourself in? The situation you're placing me in?"

"I expect you to do your job, Steve."

"Very well, sir." McGarrett closed his eyes for a moment as he drew in a deep breath and let it out sharply. He took out his handcuffs and grasped the governors right wrist with his left hand. As he fastened the cuffs on the man he'd always considered his friend as well as his superior, he said tonelessly, "You're under arrest for the murder of Seamas Dennehy."

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I Need All the Friends I Can Get

by Teresa L. Conaway

The governor's chief political rival is murdered at about the time the governor is seen leaving the dead man's apartment building...

Governor Paul Jameson, sitting behind his desk, fidgeted with a paper clip. He put it down several times, knowing that a trained investigator like Steve McGarrett would take it as a sign of nervousness, of guilty feelings. But he picked it up again each time, using it to focus his nervousness. Without it he was afraid he'd break out in a cold sweat. He believed absolutely in the American system of justice. "Innocent men aren't convicted," he said, trying to sound resolute. "I have nothing to worry about."

Across the desk, his attorney, Harrison Atley, lifted his head from the legal pad he had been studying. "Don't bet on it, Paul," he said gruffly. "Innocent men do get convicted. Sometimes it's prejudiced juries, sometimes it's ineffective defense counsel, sometimes it's cooked-up evidence, and sometimes it's just circumstances. I don't think we have to worry about the first three in this case, but the fourth -- "

"I have faith in Steve McGarrett to find the evidence to show I'm innocent." Jameson realized immediately how naive that must have sounded.

Atley tossed the legal pad onto the governor's desk. "I want you to understand something, Paul. Steve McGarrett is the enemy. He's a cop. It's not his job to find evidence that proves you're innocent. It's his job to find Rio's killer, and right now, the circumstantial evidence all points to you."

Jameson nodded. He had to remember that. Steve is the enemy.

Return to the index.

From Pau Hana 4

Lost & Found

by Maryann Gallant

An "early days" story has young officer Duke Lukela investigating a strange kidnapping case...

He studied her a moment then motioned with his hand to a nearby officer. "Frank, will you check this against any missing juveniles files? Carol Upgrade from Pearl City." He handed the officer the form containing the necessary information.

"Now then, Mrs. Upgrade, are you able to tell me where you believe you saw your daughter?"

Regaining her composure, she started to tell him. "Yes. She was outside this white house. A big white house with lots of flowers. She's bigger, of course, and her hair is a darker shade than I remembered, but it's her."

"Do you know the name of the street?"

She shook her head. "I can't remember. I just got so excited, I came right here. But I can show you." For the first time she relaxed and smiled.

While they waited for the computer confirmation, Duke supplied her with a cup of coffee. It was a short wait.

"Duke," Frank said as he placed the picture back on the desk, "the computer confirmed a Carol Upgrade was abducted but the damn thing went down before I was able to get any details."

Duke shook his head. "Not again!"

"'Fraid so. Six hours last time. I could check the old fashioned way and call Pearl but it's liable to take just as long."

Duke knew he should wait for confirmation but with a small child at stake and with the agitated state Mrs. Upgrade was in, he felt it best to move quickly. He replied to the officer, "Please, and keep trying. In the meantime, Mrs. Upgrade can show me where she thinks the child might be. I'll take her and check it out."

Return to the index.

Come Up and See Me

by Karen Rhodes

Harking back to Steve's Annapolis days, we see him placed in an awkward position when, at age 17, he meets the infamous Mae West...

That he'd thought to bring her letter with him got him past the theater manager. Steve gave the man his calling card; the manager took it in to the lady. "Go on in, son," the manager said with a suggestive smile.

Steve walked nervously into Mae West's dressing room. He stopped, drawing in a sharp breath. The star sat at her dressing table, removing her makeup, clad only in a negligee and peignoir which had apparently seen better days. The neckline of the peignoir was caked with layers of makeup accumulated over the years. He tried not to stare at Miss West or at her image in the mirror. Snow white mounds of bosom billowed up above the low-cut front of the negligee. She was all curves and creamy skin and shining platinum hair, woman incarnate. Sexuality alive and breathing. "Uh, would you like me to wait outside, ma'am?" Steve said in a barely audible voice.

A rolling, throaty laugh greeted him. "Of course not, honey. Just make yourself comfortable. I'll be through in a minute." Her movements were quick and sure as she removed the last of the makeup. She turned to him and smiled. "Just don't call me ma'am. I'm not your mother." The smile got broader and more voluptuous. "Not by a long shot." She stood and moved over to a small table, pouring Scotch into two mismatched glasses. She shoved one in Steve's direction.

He looked at the glass as if it held hemlock, then at her smiling face, the frankly seductive eyes. "I -- " There was a lump in his throat as big as a 16-inch artillery shell. "I don't drink," he managed to squeak.

"Don't tell me you're some kind of religious nut."

Steve shook his head. "It's just -- I -- "

Mae West laughed. "How old are you, anyway?"

"I'll be eighteen on the 30th."

She sashayed over to Steve's side. "Why don't you put that heavy coat and that hat and those gloves down," she cooed. "We have things to talk about." She ran the fingers of her free hand down the front of his uniform jacket. He laid his coat, hat, and gloves on a worn overstuffed chair in the tiny, cluttered dressing room which suddenly felt stuffy and much too warm.

"That's better," she said. She caressed his face, then stepped back, looking him up and down with her sultry eyes. "You're nice, Steve. Tall, slim, handsome face. You've got hot eyes, kid."

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My Partner, My Friend

by Patricia Toler

Ordered by the governor to take part in a pilot program, Steve ends up with a dog for a partner. It takes a heroic act on the part of the dog to overcome Steve's reluctance...

Steve's tires squealed as he sped off to the vet's behind the ambulance. He was talking to himself as he drove. "There is no honor in dying in the line of duty. Honor means you go home to your family. Honor means fight to win. This is not how life should end for anyone, human or beast." Steve brought his car to a shrieking halt at Walker's Animal Hospital. He ran to the ambulance and helped carry the stretcher into the office.

"Doc, I have an emergency. I need you now!"

Steve was relieved to see Dr. Walker, the best veterinarian on the islands, come out.

"Mr. McGarrett, bring him in here and lay him on the table. He's lost a lot of blood."

"Doc, he took that bullet for me. I have to know that he's going to make it!" Steve said with a lump in his throat.

"It's too soon to tell. It depends on what I find when I get in there and how he makes it through the surgery. I will call you as soon as I know anything definite."

"No, sir. There's no way, no way at all, that I'll leave my partner, my friend now. I'm not going anywhere until I know."

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Beginnner's Luck

by Teresa L. Conaway

Fresh off the airplane and still in his Navy uniform, Steve McGarrett, newly-appointed head of Five-O, embarks on his first case, under the steady tutelage of Chin Ho Kelly...

A body was lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. We advanced carefully. It was a little girl, about five years old. Her throat had been cut with such violence that she was practically decapitated. Her blue eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling. Blood drenched the front of her white playsuit and mixed with her golden hair.

We knelt down to take a closer look. Without warning, McGarrett stood and lurched toward the door and down the hall toward the bathroom. I could hear the sounds of a man retching, followed by a toilet flushing.

"First one?" I asked softly as McGarrett came back to the room, his face hardened.

"First child," McGarrett said in a low monotone voice, his voice taking that same hard edge it had when he asked me for my ID at the airport. "Won't happen again," he said. "Sandy said there were two inside. Where's the other one?" he asked Duke.

Duke pointed toward the kitchen. "I should warn you, it's worse."

McGarrett nodded grimly and headed for the kitchen. I waited a moment and then began to follow him. Duke stopped me at the door.

"What do you think of him?" Duke asked, nodding in McGarrett's direction. "Can he handle it?"

I shrugged. "Too soon to tell," I said quietly. I followed McGarrett through the living room and into the kitchen. It was a modest bungalow, a lot like my own house. There was a Raggedy Ann doll on the sofa and a couple of Life magazines on the coffee table. It made me want to call home to make sure everything was okay.

Return to the index.


by Karen Rhodes

A sequel to "Come Up and See Me" brings Mae West to Hawaii 23 years later for a benefit performance. Steve's reunion with the star is marred by a string of vicious hotel robberies which look like an inside job...

"You're not going to arrest me for putting on a show here, are you?"

"No way. I'm going to be sitting in the front row, enjoying the show."

Mae laughed and signaled for her bodyguard to approach. To Steve she said, "Want a drink?"

McGarrett shook his head.

"Oh, that's right. You don't." She shooed the bodyguard away.

"Wait," Steve said to the big man. "I want you to hear this, too." He gave a rundown on the hotel robberies. "These guys are not gentlemen; they've roughed up a couple tourists, put one in the hospital. I want you to keep your room locked, and these doors onto the lanai, at night. And you," he turned to the bodyguard, "don't try to be a hero, just keep the lady out of danger."

The guard put on a sarcastic expression and started to speak, but Mae shook her head and glared at him. He turned and left. To Steve, Mae said, "You're scaring me."

He smiled and took one of her hands in his. "I don't mean to scare you, just to caution you. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"You make me wish I was thirty years younger. If I was, you wouldn't get out of here any time soon."

"Honey, if you were thirty years younger," Steve said as he caressed her hand, "you and I would be on my sailboat headed for Molokai right now."

Mae smiled. "Oh," she said, drawing out the syllable in the seductive drawl that had made her famous. She squeezed Steve's hand and lowered her eyelids in a come-hither look.

Steve chuckled as he stood. He leaned down to give Mae a kiss, then said, "Be careful. And I'll see you at the show."

He turned and walked out, praying the robbers would leave her alone.

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Family Reunion

by Gina Martin

Not long after the death of Chin Ho Kelly, his most energetic daughter returns to Hawaii to tell Dan Williams about her new career decision...

He couldn't remember the first time he'd noticed Suzy. Sometime in the mid-Sixties, when she would tag along with David to baseball practice. Girls weren't allowed on the team in those days, so Suzy would fill in during practice when another player wouldn't show. She was really very good, he recalled, and laughed out loud at the memory of when she had showed up at a game in one of her brother's uniforms, hair tucked under her cap, hoping to fool the umpire so she could be in the starting lineup. Dan had let her sit on the bench with the guys after that. The boys thought she was great -- one of the gang -- ignoring the technicality that she was a girl. After all, she had all the right qualifications for a team member. She knew how to play ball as good as a boy, she collected baseball cards, and she was a cop's kid.

A pang of grief struck him hard at the memory of her father. He had been a close friend and a great cop. His recent death was still a painful open wound for everyone at Five-O.

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A Matter of Honor

by Deborah Doran

A murder case gives Steve a case of deja vu as he faces a foe he first encountered in Korea during the war. The investigation is complicated, in this sequel to Pau Hana 2's "A Thin Line," by his relationship with Five-O officer Ting Lee Taylor...

"Mac, did something happen?" Ting Lee asked, resting a warm, delicate hand on his arm. "It wasn't one of us, was it?"

"I'll brief you in the office with the rest," Steve snapped.

Ting Lee jerked her hand away as if she had been scalded. "I see. I've served your purpose for this evening. I take it I'm being dismissed."

"Take it any way you want to, honey."

Without a backward glance, Ting Lee strode back into the apartment. Steve struck the railing with his fist. That had come out wrong, very wrong. She would have understood if he had said he felt like being alone for a couple of hours. Instead, he had sent them back to square one with her probably wanting to cut his throat. But he didn't want to be back at square one.

Steve walked into the bedroom. Phone receiver cradled between her ear and shoulder, Ting Lee buttoned her blouse. Crossing the room, Steve depressed the switchhook, cutting the connection.

"I wasn't going to have the taxi pick me up here," Ting Lee snapped, slapping his hand away. "Give me credit for discretion. No brains, just discretion."

She began to dial a number. Steve jabbed the button down again.

"What?" Ting Lee demanded angrily.

"Don't leave," Steve replied, taking the receiver from her hand and replacing it on the cradle.

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Conspiracy Theory

by Karen Rhodes

Who killed President Kennedy? Lee Harvey Oswald, so we're told. But who really put him up to it? An unlikely trail of evidence leads Five-O into the middle of a possible answer to the question...

Walter Stewart shook his head in amusement. He took another sip of tea, then said, "What have you got so far on Cardoso?"

"He came from Texas, from Dallas. Part of what's being called the 'oil mob' because they've heavily invested in that industry as a way of laundering their money. Word is he got into some kind of a row with some other mob honcho last year, not long after the President was assassinated."

A frown clouded Stewart's face. "You don't think there is any connection, do you?"

"I don't know -- "

The attorney general answered his own question flatly. "The idea is preposterous. Lee Harvey Oswald had no mob ties, and everything to indicate that he was either a loner and a plain nut, or connected somehow to communism, that maybe it was a Cuban or even a Soviet operation."

McGarrett took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "I don't think anyone can rule out anything at this point, but I know that Dallas police haven't got any information right now that would connect Oswald with the mob in general or with Cardoso in particular. There are indications that Jack Ruby had mob connections, and some speculation that he rubbed Oswald out for that reason, but nothing definite. And I'm not concerned -- professionally, anyway -- with who may or may not have been behind the Kennedy assassination. What I'm concerned with right now is Cardoso."

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Treasures on Earth

by Patricia Walker

Steve visits his sister Maryann, who by now has two adopted children. Not only does Steve have to face a cunning jewel thief, he also has to handle two small boys...

"It's a snake," said little Stevie, pointing.

And so it could have been, round and smooth and coiled. Steve set his younger nephew down and the baby toddled away into the stateroom. Taking a pen from his shirt pocket, Steve turned off the water and slipped the pen into the loop, pulling carefully. Another coil appeared, and the end of a closely twined bit of tarred rope. He tugged gently on the tiny cord. There was resistance.

Carefully, painstakingly, he reeled in the find. A small water-beaded oilskin bag containing something bumpy. He opened the bag and into his hand poured gems, flashing fire. Little Stevie said, "Wow!" and set a wet, soapy hand on the shoulder of his uncle's silk dress shirt.

The raw beauty of the jewels, like heat in the room, focused all of Steve's attention. It was a ruby necklace, set in gold with smaller stones graduating to a fiery oval surrounded by diamonds. His nephew crowded wet and closer.

"That's pretty," said Little Stevie.

"Yeah," said his uncle. "You bet it is." He snapped his fingers twice, the audible clicking of his mind. "And I know how it got there and who it belongs to."

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