three or four years.
'Kimi said something about there being hard feelings when he left his previous employer, RFLink. Do you know anything about that or the people who work there?
'No. He was pretty closed-mouthed about it when it happened. I got the feeling that his leaving wasn't entirely voluntary.
'You mean he was fired.
George Yamamoto nodded reluctantly.
'When's the last time you saw him?
'Two months ago, down at the courthouse. I ran into him in the lobby. He had just lost the case, his patent infringement case.
'And did you know what losing that case meant to him?
'No, and he never let on. He acted as though it was no problem, said not to worry, that he'd be back on his feet in no time.
'Would his secretary, Mrs. Oliver, know what kinds of things he might have been working on?
'Mrs. Oliver? If she's still with him, she'd know everything there is to know.
'You say that as though she's been part of the picture for a long time.
'She has. She was his secretary when he worked for Boeing. When he left there, so did she. As far as I know, she's been with him ever since.
'And you think she'd be privy to all his business dealings?
'You've got it.
'Anything between them? I asked, knowing how the question would hurt, regardless of the answer.
'You mean romantically? George shook his head. 'No, he replied. 'I don't think so.
But it wasn't the same kind of absolute answer he had given about whether or not the sword had been stolen. It made me wonder.
Our drinks had been empty for a long time. I ordered another round. George Yamamoto had told me a whole lot I didn't know about Tadeo Kurobashi, information I needed to get to the bottom of who had killed him and why. But there was still something missing, something about Tadeo and Machiko and George Yamamoto that I didn't understand, something that would unlock their history together and help it make sense to me. For all our talking, nothing in what George had said had given me a clue about the long-standing antipathy he felt toward his friend's widow.
I looked at George. Disconsolate, he sat holding his drink but gazing without seeing at the black-and-white picture of a German shepherd which, along with twenty or so other doggie portraits, lined the walls of the Doghouse's bar.
It would have been easy to let it go. There was little reason to think that the years of enmity between George and Machiko could have anything to do with Tadeo's death in the here and now. But detectives don't let things go. It's not part of our mental makeup.
'What do you have against her? I asked.
George's head came up. He looked at me, saying nothing, but he didn't ask me who I was talking about. He knew I meant Machiko.
'Why do you want to know? he asked.
'It could be important.
'I doubt it.
'I'd still like to know, George.
'He and my sister met in Minidoka, he said evenly. 'They weren't engaged, but they had an understanding. Tomi was prepared to wait until Tadeo got out of school. Then Machiko came along. Once she got her claws in him, that was the end of it.
'And what happened to your sister?
'Tomi married someone else eventually. She died in childbirth when she was twenty-eight.
'That tells me what you have against Machiko, I said, remembering the woman's unleashed fury as she shook her finger at George and drove him out of her yard. 'But it doesn't tell me what she has against you.
George Yamamoto met my gaze and held it as he answered. 'It was all a very long time ago, he said. 'I'm willing to let bygones be bygones. Machiko's not. I've thought for years that Tadeo could have done better. I still do.
I thought back to the devastated look on Machiko's face as she heard the news of her husband's death and at her gritty determination to follow through with whatever he had wanted, no matter what the personal cost to her.
For the first time I began to wonder exactly what kind of man Tadeo Kurobashi had been, what had made him tick. I looked at George, sitting there grieving over the loss of his friend. The dead man obviously had made a deep impression on the people closest to him, had engendered powerful and conflicting loyalties in his wife, his friends, and also his secretary. Only Kimiko, his embattled daughter, seemed immune to her father's charm.
Not only Kimiko, I thought grimly. Somebody else was immune as well, so immune that they had killed him. I felt a renewed sense of urgency to find out who that person was.
CHAPTER 7
When I got back home to belltown Terrace it was after eight. The first thing I saw after I came in the door was the repeated flashing of the red light on my answering machine. Machines that count messages can be damned imperious.
I punched the playback button. One of the calls was from a telephone solicitor for the Seattle Repertory Theater, trying to sell me season tickets for their fabulous upcoming season. One was from a guy who wanted to be my stockbroker. All the rest were from Ralph Ames, my attorney.
Each message from Ames was time-dated, and they were scattered from early afternoon on, beginning in a two o'clock, breezy see-you-at-the-meeting-at-six tone and ending on a downright surly note at 7:59. Needless to say, I had not gone to the meeting, didn't remember I was supposed to, and didn't know where it was or what it was about. It was probably something concerning the real estate syndicate that owns Belltown Terrace, but that was only an educated guess.
Ames' final message said, 'We've given up on you. I've canceled the meeting. I'll probably be back at the apartment before you are.
Who was 'we? I wondered. And how pissed was Ralph Ames really? Knowing I had screwed up royally, I poured myself another MacNaughton's just for the hell of it. With the drink in hand, and with my injured fingers still throbbing painfully inside their metal splints, I settled down to wait for the other shoe to drop. It didn't take long. In less than ten minutes, I heard the unmistakable scrape of Ralph Ames' key in the lock.
I was sitting in the shadowy darkness of the living room when he walked in and saw me there. I have to give him credit for letting me have the slightest benefit of the doubt. He graciously allowed me to plead innocent until proven guilty.
'What happened? he asked. 'Get stuck working late on a case?
'I forgot, I said, not willing to play games or make excuses.
'Forgot? he echoed.
'Yes, I said. 'I'm sorry.
Unfortunately, apologies were not the order of the day. Ralph Ames blew his stack.
'Goddamnit, Beau, we set both the time and place specifically so you could be there. Six other people, not counting myself, built their day around that schedule, and you can sit there and say you forgot?
You get used to those kinds of recriminations from a wife, and gradually, over a period of time, you develop a certain immunity. Coming from Ralph Ames, though, from a man who is both my attorney and my friend, they had a slightly different impact.
Still, feigning indifference, I took a sip of my drink while ice cubes clinked noisily against the side of the glass. Except for that, the room was silent. Ames reached back to the wall switch and turned on the light. He looked hard
