Recrossing the street, I went back inside Davey's Locker long enough to hassle the bartender. I told him his friend was in a whole shitload of trouble, and he invited me to leave. Point/counterpoint. Mexican standoff. I took the hint and left, convinced that the city of Port Angeles had revoked every welcome mat in sight.
Back on the street outside Davey's Locker, beneath the black lifeless windows of the Ritz Hotel, I was forced to kibitz, peering over the tow truck driver's shoulder until he finished installing the new battery cable and had my 928 purring again. By then it was almost ten o'clock, too late to go driving around the Olympic Peninsula looking for Clay Woodruff. Even had I known where he was going, he had a several-hour head start. I never would have been able to catch up.
Much later, sitting in the car at the ferry dock, I tried my best to be philosophical about having lost Clay Woodruff and also about having missed the ferry. My eyelids were getting heavy and I was dozing off when the phone rang, startling me awake. It was Ames, calling from my apartment.
'Where are you? he asked. 'I've been trying to raise you on the phone all night.
'I've been out of range. Right now I'm stuck in Winslow, waiting for the ferry. Why? What's up?
'The phone's been ringing off the hook all night. Doesn't anybody ever call you at work?
'Hardly ever. What's going on?
Ames was his unflappable best. 'In order of priority, I suppose the call from Dana Lions is the most important.
'A call from Dana Lions? What about?
'They found her father. Ames paused. 'He's dead.
With those two words my worst suspicions about David Lions and his traveling Visa Card were confirmed. There was no elation in being right, only a grudging acknowledgment that I had seen it coming. I thought of Dana Lions, waiting by her phone in Kalama. At least I hadn't told her so, although maybe it would have been kinder if I had given her some hint, some warning.
'Who found him? I asked.
'A group of Cub Scouts from Seattle on a camp out over near Lake Kachess. Dana's on her way to Seattle right now. According to what the state patrol told her, he was found just inside the King County Line, and they're bringing the body to the medical examiner's office here.
'How do they know for sure it's Lions? I asked. 'We've already been through one false alarm when everybody thought he'd been found in Chicago.
'His dog tags from Vietnam. They got his name off them.
I remembered Dana mentioning the dog tags then, so there was probably no mistake, and the body really was that of David Lions.
'If Dana calls back, tell her I'm on my way and that I'll meet her at Harborview as soon as I can. What else?
'A call from Alvin Grant in Illinois. He said it's too late for you to call him back tonight. He says he'll talk to you in the morning.
'Anything else?
Ames paused. 'Well, actually, there was one other call.
'Who from?
'A Dr. Blair. He sounded a little crusty. And serious. He says that he checked with Dr. Wang and that you didn't do as you were told and go see him. Blair wants to know if you have another doctor in mind. If so, when do you plan on making an appointment? What's this all about, Beau?
'No big thing, I answered. 'Dr. Blair's the guy who took care of my fingers.
'So who's Dr. Wang?
'An internist, somebody Blair wants me to go see for a second opinion.
'For a second opinion on your fingers? Do broken fingers call for an internist?
Ames didn't get to be where he is or what he is without being an astute judge of human behavior. He is also a consummate asker of questions. He can sniff out and demolish one of my puny smoke screens from miles away.
'Not exactly.
'What then?
I hesitated. Unable to find a plausible fib, I was forced to answer without one. 'Blair seems to think my liver's enlarged. He wants me to go see this Wang character for a complete checkup.
'Wants? It sounded more like he gave you strict orders to go and you didn't bother.
'I'll go, I'll go, I said irritably.
'When?
'When I get around to it, dammit. This case has me tied up in knots right now. I'll go when I have time.
I could hear the defensiveness in my voice and it made me even angrier. I hadn't wanted to discuss the subject of my enlarged liver with Ralph Ames in the first place. Now, here he was, in it up to his eyeteeth. I knew that if I tried dropping the subject, old 'Aimless was far too cagey to let it stay dropped. I made the attempt anyway.
'Let's just forget it for the time being, I suggested. 'How was your trip to Colfax?
'Fine, fine, Ames replied. 'Archie and Machiko are getting along famously. You might be interested to know that he speaks what I understand to be passable Japanese.
'That would be useful, I said.
'Incidentally, Machiko came back here to Seattle with us this afternoon. She has a meeting scheduled with Dr. Yamamoto in the morning.
My yellow mental warning light came on. Ralph Ames was venturing into dangerous territory, talking casually about an ongoing police investigation over a mobile phone. Cellular phones are notorious for allowing casual eavesdropping under even the best of circumstances. That was without having had an electronics wizard break into the car and do God knows what.
I peered out across the water. The incoming ferry was nowhere in sight. 'Wait a minute, Ralph. Let me call you back.
'Call me back? Ames echoed. 'What's the matter?
'Never mind. I'll call you back in a minute.
I hung up, got out of the car, locked it, and went loping back up to the terminal building. Inside, I finally located a bank of pay phones and dialed my home number.
'What's going on? Ames asked, as soon as he answered.
'People listen in on car phone conversations all the time, I muttered irritably. 'The Kurobashi case isn't exactly public domain, you know.
Ames laughed. 'Are you getting paranoid in your old age?
'Maybe, I returned. 'Now tell me. Why is Machiko seeing George?
'To ask him for the sword.
'But he can't give it to her. It's part of an active murder investigation. He still doesn't have the print results back from the computer. How on earth could he possibly turn loose of the sword?
'It doesn't hurt to ask, Ralph Ames replied mildly.
Ask like hell, I thought. George had called it blackmail, not asking, and he had accused Ralph Ames of being behind it. I've known Ames long enough to know there's solid granite concealed under his foppish exterior. I was glad to know, however, that George Yamamoto hadn't knuckled under. At least not yet, he hadn't.
Ames misread my silence for tacit approval. 'At least now we know why her husband never tried to sell it, he continued.
'We do?
'Because of her husband, Ames said. 'Her first husband. When Archie told Machiko how much the sword would probably bring at auction, she broke down and told him the whole story. It must be a tremendous relief for her to finally be able to let go of that burden after all these years.
'Goddamnit, Ames. Will you stop talking in circles and tell me what the hell's going on?
'Tadeo Kurobashi killed Machiko's first husband. With the sword.
Ralph Ames knew good and well what kind of impact that news would have on me. He paused, waiting for my reaction.
