'Nagasaki? I blurted, remembering Machiko Kurobashi saying that she was originally from Nagasaki.
Winter looked at me questioningly. When I offered no explanation, he went on. 'It's a miracle that the swords themselves weren't totally destroyed as well, although they were badly damaged. Once they were discovered, an extensive search was instituted to find any possible heirs, but as far as I know, no surviving family members were ever located. After undergoing decontamination, all the remaining pieces were reconditioned as much as possible and ended up at the Tokyo National Museum at Ueno.
'The curators there suspected that a matching tanto or short sword had existed at one time, but they assumed it had been lost if not earlier, then certainly at the time of the bombing.
'You're convinced then, that this is part of the same set?
Winter nodded. 'Of course I'm sure. I've seen the other surviving pieces in Japan. They're not in nearly as fine shape as this one, but it's clearly the same set. I have only one question. Why the devil is that tanto sitting in Dr. Yamamoto's evidence room?
'It's part of a murder investigation, I explained. 'It may not be the murder weapon, but it certainly was used to manipulate evidence at the scene, and that makes it part of the official investigation.
Winter waved his hand impatiently. 'I understand that, Detective Beaumont, but how did it get here, to the States? How did it get from wartime Nagasaki to Seattle, Washington? Where has it been for the past forty plus years? And how did the dead man, this Kurobashi fellow, come to be in possession of it?
I was struggling manfully to get a mound of slippery linguini to stay on my left-handed fork long enough to make the treacherous journey from plate to mouth. It wasn't working. I am not and never have been the least bit ambidextrous. Finally, disgusted with my clumsiness, I dropped my fork onto my plate and left it there. It was impossible for me to talk and manage the fork at the same time.
'Kurobashi's wife- I stopped and corrected myself. 'Kurobashi's widow is named Machiko. I have no idea what her maiden name was, but she did mention that she was originally from Nagasaki.
'I see, Winter said, nodding thoughtfully. 'So the sword could have been hers all along. Do you suppose she'd be interested in selling it?
I remembered what Machiko had said about wanting the sword back, wanting it for Kimi.
'I wouldn't know about that, I said. 'Once she gets it back, I believe her intention is to give it to Kimiko, her daughter, although it may not be that important to Kimi. According to her, she never saw the sword before the night of her father's death, never even knew it existed.
'Strange, wouldn't you say? Winter asked.
'What do you mean? I asked, although I had already reached the same conclusion myself.
'Why keep it hidden all this time? Even from close family members. Winter shook his head before adding, 'Not only that, Ralph mentioned something about the Kurobashi family being in dire financial straits, that they were being forced to file bankruptcy proceedings. Keeping the sword hidden doesn't make sense when you consider how much the sword would have brought if they had sold it.
'How much would that be? I asked.
Winter took a slow sip of wine before he answered. 'It could be as much as several million, he said deliberately. 'Especially if some of the museums get into a bidding war over it. But you still haven't told me how the sword came to be in this country in the first place.
'I don't know, I replied. 'We'll need to ask Machiko about that.
'Where is she?
'Over in eastern Washington.
'Do you think it would be possible for me to talk to her? Winter looked at me appraisingly. 'After all, if the mother does decide to put the sword on the market, I'd very much like to be involved. I can assure you, it would be beneficial for all concerned.
What he said made sense. Any way you sliced it, Machiko and Kimi Kurobashi were probably going to be in a bind for money. If they did decide to sell the sword, simply being represented by Sotheby's, one of the world's biggest and most respected dealers in fine arts, would automatically up the ante.
'I'll speak with her about it, I said. 'She may be interested, but I don't know.
I picked up my fork and tried again. Winter paused with his own fork halfway to his mouth, watching my struggle. 'What did you do, slam your hand in a door? he asked.
'You must be psychic, I said, and let it go at that.
Before Ames had a chance to get in his two cents worth about my hand, Andrew Halvorsen rescued me from the table with a perfectly timed telephone call.
'They caught him, he announced triumphantly. 'I just got word from a detective back in Schaumburg, Illinois.
'Caught who?
'David Lions. He tried to buy a television set at a place called Woodfield Mall. They say it's close to the airport. The Visa people alerted the store as soon as they called in for credit approval. Lions made a run for it, but a security guard happened to be walking past in the mall. Lions practically fell into his arms.
'A television set? I asked. 'What the hell would he want with a television set?
'Beats me. It was one of those big-screen color jobs, too. At least that's what the dick from Schaumburg told me. He called a few minutes ago looking for a rap sheet. I told him we didn't have one.
My first thought was for Dana Lions, David Lions' daughter, waiting at home in Kalama. By now her father had probably already called, asking her to post his bail.
'Have you talked to the daughter yet? I asked.
Halvorsen paused. 'No, not yet. I thought I'd let you do that since you were the one who talked to her to begin with.
'Gee thanks, I muttered. 'That's big of you.
Minutes later, I was on the phone with Dana Lions, giving her the bad news. She took it stoically, like someone who has been through it all before, like someone far too familiar with the ropes when it comes to bailing a family member out of scrapes with the law.
'Thanks for calling and letting me know, Detective Beaumont. I'll phone back there right away and see what's what.
I was still sitting beside the telephone looking at my hand and feeling it throb when the phone rang. It was Dana Lions. Again.
'It's not my dad, she said, relief bubbling in her voice. 'They arrested somebody else.
'Somebody else? Who?
'I don't know, but the man they arrested is black. My father definitely isn't black.
'But he was using your father's credit card?
'That's right. The guy finally admitted that he bought the card from someone selling stolen cards at the United Terminal in O'Hare. I don't understand, Detective Beaumont. What does it all mean?
I had a pretty good idea what it meant, but I didn't want to go into it right then. Dana Lions was still nurturing a small spark of hope for her father. I refused to douse it with bad news until absolutely necessary.
'You'll let me know if you hear from him? I asked.
'Sure will, she said.
I considered calling Halvorsen back to let him know what Dana had learned, but I decided against it. My hand was still throbbing like mad. Instead of having another drink of any kind, I took the aspirin Dr. Blair had recommended.
By this time, Ames and Winters had left the dining room and returned to the kitchen. Despite his silk shirt, Winters was soon up to his elbows in soap suds as he tackled the trail of cooking pots Ames had left in his wake.
They were both talking and scrubbing away, happy as two little clams. They didn't look as though they needed or wanted any help. I thanked Ames for dinner, wished them both a good night, and excused myself. Before I crawled into bed, I called Machiko Kurobashi at Honeydale Farm.
I more than half expected her to be in bed asleep, but she listened carefully to my halting explanation of who Archie Winter was and what he wanted. When I finished, her response wasn't what I expected, either.
'Have him call, she answered gravely. 'We talk.
'I'll do that, I said.
