The Yoshinobu Mysteries: Volume 2

by John A. Broussard

  Later, Sid and Kay agreed Wayne had shown some sort of emotion, but neither of them could decipher it, even after going over the tape. Wayne's reply, when it finally came, was: “Sounds pretty farfetched.”

  Kay decided she was going nowhere, remembered her original intention and, not trying to get an explanation of the enigmatic statement, nodded to Sid. Having alerted Kay beforehand, he decided to drop the biggest bomb right off. As soon as Wayne had finished his account of what had happened at the Saturday imbroglio, Sid pushed Anton's calendar across the desk so Wayne could read the note written on the page for his last day. “I found this in Anton's office this morning.”

  The two attorneys watched the expression on their client's face. A frown was the first change from its typical impassiveness, and then the frown disappeared to be replaced with a smile. “I see what you're driving at. Anton must have written the note when we first set up the appointment. By that morning I knew there was no way I could make the noon appointment, so I called him and told him it would have to be twelve-fifteen. Even then, as I told you, I was late.”

  He's lying, Sid decided, and doing a professional job of it.

  He's lying, Kay decided, but he can really think fast on his feet. Sid decided to keep pushing, but felt the way he did when a balky witness simply decided to hang tough. “The bookkeeper claims he left at eleven-forty-five saying he was afraid he'd be late.”

  “ Just like Anton,” Wayne said without hesitation. “He used to always worry about such things as being at the airport way ahead of time for his flight. He was probably especially concerned about this contract. It meant a lot to him. It was a pretty good size one by his standards.”

  Seeing Sid's lack of success on his run, Kay decided it was her turn to drop a few bomblets.

  “We've checked with Norman and he says he got a generous contract from you on those apartment sales and rentals.” Wayne's smile remained. (How can he be so unflappable, Kay wondered) “That's testimony to my skills as a businessman,” he said. “I think most people I sign contracts with feel they've gotten the best of the bargain. That's one of the reasons I've done so well in real estate.”

  “How do you explain the fact he claims he didn't discount your condo rental?” “ I'm afraid I left the wrong impression with you. I felt the rental was reasonable. It's a choice apartment, as I indicated, yet he wasn't asking any more for it. That's why I referred to it as a discount, though it may not be one in the true sense of the word.”

  “Norman says he had nothing to do with letting out the painting contract, so how could you have offered it to Anton?”

  “That was no problem. I know the contractor. He would have been happy to have Anton do the painting.”

  The rest of the interview followed essentially the same pattern. After Wayne left, Sid and Kay looked at each other and expressed their exasperation.

  Kay was the first to say anything. “Remember the room we rented in the Munich pension? The one with the enormous feather mattress on the bed?”

  Sid nodded, still engrossed in his own thoughts.

  “Well this whole interview made me feel as though I was punching that mattress.”

  Sid gave a wry smile. “I felt as though I were trying to nail guava jelly to a wall.”

  *** After introducing himself to the receptionist at Elima Real Estate and indicating he was Wayne Harlan's attorney, Qual managed to bring the conversation around to the morning of Anton's murder.

  “I was absolutely horrified when I heard about it on television,” the slender and rather pretty Japanese woman exclaimed.

  “Do you happen to remember what time Mr. Harlan left for his appointment with Anton?”

  “Why, yes. It was at exactly fourteen minutes after twelve.” Qual looked dubious, and the receptionist smiled. “I remembered because he left in a terrible hurry. He said he was going to be late for his twelve-fifteen appointment at his apartment, and I looked up at the clock,” she indicated a spot up and behind Qual's head. “I knew he wouldn't be very late, because it was only twelve-fourteen. I also knew it was past time for me to leave.”

  Qual turned to see a large, old fashioned, round clock with a red, sweep-second hand. It was on the wall just above the door to the office entrance. It was an excellent explanation for why the receptionist knew Wayne's departure time down to the minute.

  ***

  “Maternity leave! What in hell is this?” Hank's voice had risen several octaves and as many decibels, as he looked up from the filled out form Corky had just handed him. Corky grinned. “Relax, Hank. I told you about it a long time ago. Chief Yamada's already okayed the leave. There's a big day ahead. Alan Jr. is coming in on the first flight Friday afternoon.”

  “You aren't serious are you?” “ We sure are. Alan's even closing up shop for a week. This is the most excited I've seen him since he figured out what was wrong with the lighting system in the main Malalani banquet room.”

  “What about all the work around here?” “ C'mon, Hank. It's never been so quiet. I'm all caught up. The only thing hanging fire is the Figueroa case. You admit we don't have any leads, since Surrette got wiped out. If you need help, call Kay.”

  Hank grunted. “Lot of help I'll get from her, especially if Wayne Harlan actually did hire a hit man.

  *** The manager of Elima Real Estate was a blond haole in his mid thirties. His business card read, “S. 'Lucky' Carlson. Lucky gave every sign of being pleased to see Qual. Everyone's a potential customer in his eyes, Qual thought. I'll bet his first name is Sylvester.

  “ Wayne's got a bad temper, there's no question about that,” Lucky said when Qual explained his reason for the visit, “but I can't picture him killing anyone. Well, maybe, if he got real mad. Once he has time to cool off he'd think better of it.”

  “What's he like to work for?” Lucky grinned. “The first month, I thought was going to be my last month. Wayne hates to let loose. He isn't like a lot of owners who hang over the manager's shoulder and tell him what to do. His problem is he just hates to have someone else doing what he could be doing himself. I guess you'd say he has a tough time delegating authority. He'd made up his mind to get out of the business, so he just gritted his teeth and gradually backed out. He still comes around once or twice a week, usually on Saturdays, but it's mainly to check on expenses, to approve any major purchases, and just generally to look around.

  “ I knew before Wayne hired me for this job how he thinks everyone's out to get him, so I make damn sure every penny is accounted for. That's the way I do business, anyway, so I don't mind him being a stickler when it comes to keeping the books. After the initial adjustment, we've been getting along fine.”

  “Were you here on the Saturday when Anton Figueroa was killed?” Lucky shook his head. “Weekends are mostly road days. The agents are usually taking potential buyers around if they come in at all. Even then, they try to be finished by noon. Nobody likes working on weekends, including me. Marlenathat's the receptionistis here until early afternoon. The agents all have keys to the office in case a customer wants to sign a contract. As I say, it's usually quiet around here on Saturdays.”

  Qual decided the best approach to exploring the manager's evaluation of Wayne's personality was through their relationship in the business. His next question was a further exploration in that direction. “To come back to the business in general, would you say there's no fundamental differences between you and Wayne as to how the business should be run?”

  “ Not any more,” Lucky said after a short pause. “There was at first. I mean something besides Wayne having a tough time letting go. I couldn't quite decide what it was. Finally, it dawned on me Wayne is a risk taker. It doesn't seem to fit with the rest of his personality, but I think he enjoys taking chances. I don't. Don't ever go fishing with him, by the way. Small-craft warnings don't mean a thing to him. His boat is really an old scownot much more than a rowboatand he runs it from the stern using an old outboard he's never even bothered to connect to the
steering. I think the one excursion I took with him in on it was what tipped me off to his real weirdness.

  “ Wayne thoroughly enjoys taking chances, something I just don't like to do, whether it's in business or in any other part of his life. So far, he's been pretty lucky. He bought up a lot of land when real estate prices were depressed. You know the kind of property. The kind you say after prices have tripled, 'Why didn't I buy a few of those lots back then.' Well, he did. It was a big risk at the time. I told him he was just a lucky risk taker. I said, 'Wayne, you'd rather lose money on a risky deal than make money on a sure one.'“

  “What did he say to that?”

  “He thought about it for a minute or so and then agreed.” *** “As far as I'm concerned,” Sid said, “the pieces have pretty much fallen into place. They better had, because I've got a couple of other cases I'm going to have to spend a lot of time on.”

  Kay was sitting behind the desk in her office and Sid was flipping through the notes on his yellow pad and checking them against the packet Leilani had prepared on the Harlan case. “There's no question in my mind but Wayne was setting Anton up. He made the appointment for noon, knowing he'd be in his office at that time. Unfortunately for Wayne, whoever killed Anton was slow about it and didn't finish him off. It's no wonder Wayne let out a yelp when he saw Anton coming out of the elevator.”

  Kay kept on skimming through the material. “Where would you go to hire a hit man on Elima?” Kay asked, half to herself.

  “Hell! I'd bet I could find a half-a-dozen takers in the Prince Kuhio Tavern this afternoon who'd do a contract for me for less than five thousand dollars.” “ Sure, but would you trust anyone you found there? What kind of a job do you think he'd do, if he did it at all? If he did do it, how long would it take for the word to get around about how Manuel Gomes had suddenly come into five grand. How long would it be before a graphic description of how he got it would be circulating? Would Wayne risk hiring a local? We keep coming back to the same problem over and over again. Why in the Nikko Arms? Why in an elevator, for God's sake?” Kate was now obviously just expressing her annoyance and bafflement aloud.

  As she spoke she looked at her watch and stood up. “I'm off to see Karen Schwartz. Anything special you want me to ask her?”

  “Uh-uh.” “ Don't hold up dinner for me. Even if I get through early on the interviews, I won't want to drive all the way home and back again for the League meeting. I'll grab a bite to eat at the drive-in and I'll call you before the meeting. Enjoy your casserole.” She walked around the desk and kissed him.

  Sid grinned.“That's one of the drawbacks to rural living. One or the other of us has to eat alone every so often.”

  “Don't fret, Sid. You'll have some cats to keep you company at mealtime and until I get home. The meeting will be over by nine. I'll be home by nine-thirty at the latest.”

  Chapter 18

  Karen's condominium was like none of the others at the Nikko Arms. Kay would have been quite willing to risk a large wager on the assertion. For one thing, there was no furniture in the front room. Before the interview ended, Kay had made it a point to use the bathroom and to glance into the kitchen and bedroom on the way. As she had expected, a mattress on the floor was the bed, and no other furniture existed in that part of the apartment either.

  To make up for the lack of the usual appurtenances, the rooms had an abundance of seat cushions, but the most common and most obvious item in the apartment was cloth: swatches of cloth, piles of cloth, bundles of cloth, bolts of cloth; cloth of every color and pattern and texture. Some pieces were pinned to the wall, some were draped over the pillows and cushions, some simply lay in heaps or were scattered around on the floor. A moment after Kay had entered, Karen had dropped cross-legged to the floor and picked up with what she had evidently been working on when Kay knocked, hand sewing some kind of white cloth backing to a large piece of shiny purple material. Kay picked one of the larger cushions and found it to be a remarkably comfortable seat.

  “Wayne told me you'd want to see me sooner or later,” Karen said, looking up from her sewing, “so I wasn't surprised when you called.” Karen had beautiful dark hair which she wore pinned back with an old fashioned brown celluloid comb. She had dark brown, expressive eyes and a lovely complexion. A pair of scissors and a pair of eye glasses hung from her neck on braided cords. The shapeless muumuu she was wearing gave no hints about her figure. Kay judged her to be above average in looks, though she could see nothing immediately which would have attracted a rather handsome and wealthy businessman such as Wayne Harlan.

  “We're going to need character witnesses if Wayne ever comes to trial for Anton Figueroa's murder. That's why I'm here.”

  Karen smiled. She's someone who shouldn't smile, Kay thought, as Karen's lips uncovered a wide expanse of formidable teeth and gums. “ I wouldn't think a girlfriend would be a particularly convincing witness from the court's viewpoint. Being a live-in might carry some status these days, but I'm not even that.”

  “We won't necessarily have you testify. What we're trying to do is to build up background.”

  “So you want to know what I think of him?” Kay nodded. Karen put down her sewing for a moment and seemed to be giving her own question some thought. “He's generous. Maybe that's his most positive feature. He's not especially attentive, though. If a woman likes a man to listen when she talks to him and to be good company, Wayne wouldn't do. I don't mind, because I have plenty here to keep me busy.” She waved her hand to encompass the room.

  She bit off a thread with her prominent teeth, slipped on her glasses, and passed a different colored yarn through the eye of a larger needle and then continued. “I've heard he has an awful temper, but in the two months I've known him I've seen no signs of it. If anything, it's the absence of a temper which bothers me.”

  “What do you mean?” “ I'm not sure what I mean. It's just that he always seems so calm and cool and collected. Even when it comes to sex. I've never thought of myself as being especially aggressive, sexually, but Wayne gives me the feeling I am, without his actually saying so.

  “ You know how most men are. An orgasm is something special for them, and they relax after having one. Well Wayne doesn't. I'm not so sure sex has any more meaning for him then emptying his bladder does. It's just sort of a relief from specific tension, more than something enjoyable in and of itself.” Karen smiled and added, thoughtfully, “I'd sure be a big help on the witness stand, wouldn't I? It sounds like I'm describing someone who'd be able to kill a person in cold blood. Lucky for Wayne there were so many people there when Anton died.”

  Lucky for Wayne he was there, Kay thought, and the thought lingered.

  Before Kay left she asked to use the phone, since she'd left hers in her car. After being told its general location, she found it buried under a dozen layers of paisley prints.

  The answering voice was far calmer than when Kay had last heard it.

  “I was just thinking of you,” Margaret Bowan said. “Hideko Northrup, the psychologist you and Laura recommended, is coming out.”

  “Great. I was wondering if I could come by and talk to Patricia.”

  “Of course. When can you get here?”

  “Well, I'm on the seventh floor of the Nikko Arms at the moment, so I could be there in next to no time, even with the kind of elevator service we have here.” Margaret laughed. “That's quick work. Hideko's due any minute. It's her second visit. She's really nice. I'm so glad you told me about her. Don't let her coming stop you. We were going to move into the bedroom and leave Patricia to her own devices in the front room. It will give you a chance to conduct a private interview.”

  *** By the time Kay arrived at Margaret's apartment, Hideko was just coming down the hall with five-year-old Josie as Hideko called her, Yoshiko as her father called her, and Joko as she referred to herself. Hideko and her daughter both expressed their pleasure and surprise at seeing Kay.

  Hideko and Kay stopped before the door to talk
before knocking. “Jack had a hurry call from a patient just as I was about to leave, that's why Josie's along. Since Margaret has a daughter about Josie's age, it should work out to everyone's advantage.” Hideko was a native Japanese and had a marked accent, which made her difficult to understand, though her command of English was excellent.

  Kay was not so convinced about the advantages of Josie's presence, since she wondered how Patricia would respond to the extra audience. Margaret welcomed the trio and, after some small talk and an explanation for Kay's presence to the solemn Patricia, Margaret added suggestions regarding the books to show Hideko's daughter following the interview. Hideko and Margaret then retired to the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

  Joko silently watched the proceedings with alert looking eyes as Patricia rapidly went through the details of the Saturday incident. Kay glanced at Joko out of the corner of her eye and couldn't help but contrast the two girls. Patricia was tall, blonde, and serious. She was pretty, and gave promise of being even more so as she got older. Joko, in contrast, was quite small, dark, and no more than plain-lookingmuch more like her Japanese mother than her Caucasian father. Her redeeming physical feature was a mobile face seemingly made to break into a smile.

  Kay went over the notes Corky had taken of Patricia's testimony as the young girl repeated her story. Kay interrupted it to ask, “What floor was the elevator at when you got there?”

  “Third.”

  “What happened after the man fell out of the elevator?”

  “The tall man yelled and stepped out of the way. He was almost in front of the door when the man fell.”

  “Then?” “The short man looked down at his shoes. Some blood spattered on them. The tall man put his hand on the elevator doors to stop them from closing.”

  Kay checked the dossier Leilani had made up. “Were the doors closing?”