Bookish snapped his notepad shut and slipped it into his pocket. For thirty seconds, no one said a word. During which time, Fisherman lit up another Seven Stars.
«Steel-reinforced will,» said Fisherman.
«Want to call the Committee on Human Rights?» asked Bookish.
«Please,» Fisherman and his partner were at it again, «this is not a human rights issue. This is the duty of the citizen. It's written, right here in your favorite
«I want to know what's going on,» I repeated.
Bookish blew his nose with a loud honk. Fisherman took a plastic ruler out of the desk drawer and whacked it against the palm of his hand.
«Listen, guy,» pronounced Bookish, tossing a soiled tissue into the trash, «you do realize that your position is becoming worse and worse?»
«This is not the sixties, you know. You can't keep carrying on with this antiestablishment bullshit,» said Fisherman, disgruntled. «Those days are over. You and me, we're hemmed in up to here in society. There's no such thing as establishment and antiestablishment anymore. That's passe. It's all the same big-time. The system's got everything sewed up. If you don't like it, you can sit tight and wait for an earthquake. You can go dig a hole. But getting sassy with us won't get you or us anywhere. It's a dead grind. You understand?»
«Okay, we're beat. And maybe we've not shown you proper respect. If that's the case, I'm sorry. I apologize.»
Bookish's turn again, notepad open again. «We've been working on another job and hardly even slept since yesterday. I haven't seen my kids in five days. And although you have no respect for me, I'm a public servant. I try to keep society safe. So when you refuse to answer a simple question, you can bet it rubs us the wrong way. And when I say things are looking worse for you, it's because the more tired we get, the worse our temper gets. An easy job ends up being not so easy after all. Of course you got rights, the law's on your side, but sometimes the law takes a long time to kick in and so it gets put in the hands of us poor suckers on duty. You get my drift?»
«Don't misunderstand, we're not threatening you,» Fisherman interjected. «He was just giving you a friendly warning. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to you.»
I kept my mouth shut and looked at the ashtray. A plain old dirty glass ashtray without markings. How many decades had it sat here on this desk?
Fisherman kept slapping his hands with the ruler. «Very well,» he gave in. «I'll explain the circumstances. It's not the procedure we follow when asking questions, but since we want your respect, we'll try things your way.»
He picked up a folder, removed an envelope and produced three large photographs. Black-and-white site photos, without much in the way of artistry. That much was clear at a glance. The first photo showed a naked woman lying facedown on a bed. Long legs, tight ass, hair fanned out from the neck up. Her thighs were parted just enough to reveal what was between them. Her arms flung out to the sides. She could have been sleeping.
The second photo was more graphic. She was turned over, her pubic area, breasts, face exposed. Her legs and arms arranged stiffly at attention. Her eyes open wide, glassy, her mouth contorted out of shape. The woman was not sleeping. The woman was dead.
The woman was Mei.
The third photo was a close-up of Mei's face. Mei. No longer beautiful. Cold, ice cold. Chafe marks around her
neck.
My mouth went dry, I couldn't swallow. My palms itched.
Mei. So full of life and sex. Now cold, dead.
I stopped myself from shaking my head, from showing any reaction. I knew the two guys were watching my every move. I restacked the three photos and casually handed them back to Fisherman. I tried to look unaffected. «Do you know this woman?» asked Fisherman. «No.» I could've said yes, of course, but then I would've had to tell them about Gotanda, who was my link to Mei, and his life would be ruined if this got out to the media. True, he might have been the one who coughed up my name. But I didn't know that. I'd have to risk it.
«Take another look,» Fisherman said slowly. «This is extremely important, so do look again carefully before you answer. Have you ever seen this woman before? Don't bother lying to us. We're not babes in the woods. We catch you lying, you'll
I took a lengthy look at the three photographs. I didn't want to look at all, but that would have given me away. «I don't know her,» I said. «But she's dead, right?» «Dead,» Bookish repeated after me. «Very dead. Extremely dead. Completely dead. As you can see for yourself. This fox is naked and dead. Once a very fine specimen, but now that she's dead it cuts no ice. She's dead, like all dead people. You let her decay, her skin starts to crack and shrivel, the rot oozes out. And the stink! And the bugs. Ever see that?» Never, I said.
«Well, we've seen it plenty. It gets to where you can't even tell that it was a woman. It's dead meat. Rotten steak. And once the smell gets in your nose, you don't think of food, let me tell you. It's a smell you never forget. True, if you let things go for a long, long, long time, then all you got are bones. No smell. Everything's all dried up. White, beautiful, clean bones. Needless to say, this lady didn't make it that far. And she wasn't rotting either. Just dead. Just stiff. You could tell she had to be some piece when she was warm. But seeing her like this, I didn't even twitch.
«Somebody killed this woman. She had the right to live. She was barely twenty. Somebody strangled her with a stocking. Not a very quick way to go. It's painful and it takes time. You know you're going to die. You're thinking why do I have to die like this? You want to go on living. But you can feel the oxygen drying up. Your head goes foggy. You piss. You lose the feeling in your legs. You die slow. Not a nice way to die. We'd like to catch the son of a bitch who killed this gorgeous young thing. And I think you're going to help us.
«Yesterday at noon, the lady reserved a double room in a luxury hotel in Akasaka. At five P.M., she checked in, alone,» Fisherman recounted the facts. «She told the desk her husband would show up later. Phony name, phony telephone number. At six p.m., she called room service for dinner for one. She was alone at the time. At seven p.m., the empty tray was put out in the hall. The do not disturb sign was hanging on the door. Checkout time was twelve noon. When the lady didn't check out, the front desk called her room at twelve-thirty. No answer. The do not disturb sign was still on the door. There was no response. When hotel security unlocked the door, the lady was naked and dead, exactly as you see in this first photograph. No one saw the lady's 'husband.' The hotel has a restaurant on the top floor, so there's a lot of people going in and out. Very popular place to rendezvous.»
«There was no identification in her handbag,» said Bookish. «No driver's license, address book, credit cards, no bank card. No initials on her clothing. Besides cosmetics, birth-control pills, and thirty thousand yen, the only item in her possession, tucked, almost hidden, in her wallet, was a business card.
«You're going to say you really don't know her?» Fisherman tried again.
I shook my head. I wanted to give these guys all the cooperation I could. I really did. I wanted to see her killer caught as much as anyone. But I had the living to think about.
«Well, then, now that you know the circumstances, why don't you tell us where you were last night and what you were doing,» Bookish drummed on.
My memory came rushing back. «At six o'clock I ate supper at home by myself, then I read and had a couple of drinks, then before midnight I went to bed.»
«Did you see anyone?» asked Fisherman.
«I didn't see anyone. I was alone the entire time.»
«Any phone calls to anyone? Anyone call you?»
I told them I didn't take any calls. «A little before nine, one came in on the machine. When I played it back, it was Work-related.»
«Why keep the answering machine on, if you're at home?»
«I'm on a break. I don't want to have to talk business.»
