The Yoshinobu Mysteries: Volume 2

by John A. Broussard

  “Did he find the manager?”

  Carlton shook his head. “I told him Id call around the hotel and have the manager

  get in touch with him. I figured it was important, so I called everywhere I could think of

  and even had him paged in the lobby. I didnt have any luck. The manager didnt get back

  to me until almost nine, and by then Mr. Yamamoto was long gone. I told him to try Mr.

  Yamamotos office.”

  The memory of a hand with slender fingers and well-manicured nails reaching out

  for and pressing down a mute button flashed across Kays mind. Now she wished the call

  had been taken. Even more, she wished she could have heard the conversation following

  her departure.

  Kay had been torn between wanting to stay with Corky on her round of questioning,

  and getting back to the office where she knew unfinished business was accumulating. An

  eleven oclock office appointment tipped the scale, so she left Corky after extracting a

  promise from her that all information would be shared.

  ***

  Leilani Pak greeted Kay with the grim news the fax machine was spitting out reams

  of material. “Ive already replaced the roll twice since nine oclock. Whats going on? Its

  all coming in from Tokyo.”

  “I should have known,” Kay said, leafing through the stack on Leilanis desk. “Nick

  said hed send for this material, but I thought hed have it expressed to me.” The faxes consisted almost entirely of news clippings, mainly from the Japan Times

  and other English language newspapers published there. A few articles from Japanese

  language newspapers were also included, along with translations. A quick scan suggested

  they had been sent because of the photos published in the originals, rather then for the

  scanty information accompanying them.

  The clippings had arrived more or less in chronological order, and Kay began with

  the ones reporting the accident. The emerging picture confirmed in more detail what Nick had sketched out. The jet had left shortly after dawn on a clear day, with ideal weather conditions over all of central Japan. Radio communications from the pilot were all

  routine.

  The first sign of difficulties was the absence of any contact with the Nagoya tower at

  the halfway point. Since private planes frequently deviate from flight plans, no great

  concern was shown at first. A report coming in of a possible plane crash in a rice field

  near the Kiso River quickly changed the mood of the tower officials. The accompanying

  photo of the wreck clearly demonstrated to Kay why there had been no survivors. Later

  clippings consisted of interviews with local farmers who claimed to have seen the actual

  crash. A copy of a document by an airline safety official setting up an investigative body

  provided little information.

  A brief and meaningless statement from an Ono Electronics press secretary offered

  even less. No relatives of the victims had been available for comment. The accident rated

  a long story on the front page the first day, but slipped to page four in the Times on the

  second. Then it disappeared for several months except for sporadic coverage in the

  tabloids. These items generally consisted of wild speculation, ranging from a groundbased rocket attack to collision with a UFO.

  Several bad reproductions of newspaper photographs showed a smiling Keiko

  Sugiyama, Masa Onos daughter, with a baby on her lap. Kay could make out nothing

  from the face. One other photo showed Sigrids first husband sitting in front of a

  computer. This fuzzy, high contrast photo also failed to give any clues about the person

  pictured.

  The next major story was the review boards report, fourteen months later. The

  consensus was there was no evidence of foul play. The final conclusion was essentially

  the same as many inquest findings which Kay had seen in her days as a defense

  attorneycause or causes unknown. Again, the story disappeared, this time for three

  months.

  Then, another badly reproduced photograph, showing a man holding a shapeless

  piece of something, had a Japanese caption. The English translation appended to it read,

  “Dr. Tokyoshi Yamanaka, consultant to board and expert on jet engine failure stated

  possible cause of Ono plane crash to press. Above he shows piece of fin which he says

  could have been cause of accident.”

  The photo and a more readable account of the same story had appeared in the

  Washington Post, which included an explanation forthe consultants delay in reporting

  his findings. The gist of it was he had continued to study the matter after the board had

  turned in its final report. Yamanakas tentative conclusion had prompted the temporary

  grounding of the same make and model of the craft throughout the world. The consultants statement set off a short-lived storm of controversy. The next days

  edition of the Post contained an angry statement from the president of the aircraft

  manufacturing company in Seattle. According to him, it was impossible for the fin in

  question to rupture in flight. Even if it had broken, it would not have caused the engine to

  vibrate. If by some strange chance the engine had begun to vibrate, the pilot would have

  had plenty of warning beforehand from a brilliant flashing trouble light on the control

  panel. In the unlikely event he did not notice the warning, the vibration could not

  possibly damage the wing.

  The final news items reported no defect of the nature described by Yamanaka could

  be found in any of the hundreds of inspected planes.

  Kay sighed, pushed the faxes aside, decided she had learned nothing new, and looked

  unhappily at her overflowing in-basket. The one bright piece of news was a call canceling

  the eleven oclock appointment. Kay begin examining the baskets contents. It was while

  she was working her way through an especially convoluted section of the Hawaii Revised

  Statutes, where she knew a basis for the acquittal of one of her clients was concealed,

  Leilanis voice penetrated through her concentration.

  “Want to share a sandwich? Its almost one oclock.”

  “One o'clock already? No; I think Ill walk over to The Calabash and have a salad. I

  need the exercise to get rid of some of this cotton fuzz in my head.”

  Chapter 9

  There was one thing Kay had decided to get out of the way regarding the Ono case before taking time out for lunch. She had flipped on her computer, located the phone number she was seeking, and allowed the machine to do the dialing.

  “ Crowley Investigators, Ramon Santiago speaking.”

  “Hi. This is KayYoshinobu, of Smith, Chu…”

  “Hey, Kay. Dont go rattling off your company name. I know who you are. What

  kind of an investigator do you think I am, if I cant even remember my best customers?” Kay could picture the small, gray-haired Filipino hunched over the phone in his closet of an office. Appearances were deceiving. The unimpressive appearing occupant of those humble surroundings had what Kay knew to be a first rate-mind.

  Qual had even encouraged Ramon to open his own agency. The answer had been: “Nothing doing. The first thing you know Id be hiring help and bitching because they werent doing the job the way I wanted them to. This way I collect my check at the end of the month, the boss is over on Oahu and cant look over my shoulder, and I pass all complaints along to him.”

  “ Well, it has been a while. I have something for you again.”

  “Im coasting at the moment. I had
a big job coming up over on Maui, but the parties involved settled their differences, and now it's all sweetness an light for them. So I wouldnt mind some new business.”

  “Do you have any contacts in Japan?”

  “Sure do. Crowley works with a big Tokyo agency. They investigate for us over there, and we do the same for them over here.”

  “Great. How about a rush job? I may possibly have to defend Mrs. Masayoshi Ono and…”

  A soft whistle interrupted. “I can see why you need some contacts in Japan. The papers are implying theres some sort of yakuza connection, and I wouldnt be surprised if there were.”

  “Thats part of what Id like to have you find out. First, Id like a straight rundown on the people who came over here with Ono. Get me anything you can thats public informationplace of birth, date of birth, educational background, job history, any police record, you know, the usual. Id like it back just as soon as possible. Ill fax you a list of their names, and you can have the agency fax the information on them right to my office.”

  “Got it. Most of it should be a piece of cake. The Japanese keep much better tabs on their citizens than we do.”

  “Fine. Then get the rest of the routine stuff.”

  “I take it you mean what we call in the trade, „interpersonal relations.”

  “Right. Anything like family squabbles, disputes in the firm, jealousy…anything.”

  “Thatll take more doing.”

  “I know. Dont wait to collect a bundle. Just have the agency send me the information as they gather it.”

  “Will do. As soon as I hang up, Ill get an O.K. from the office in Honolulu and then contact the Japanese agency directly.”

  “One other thing. Get me all the information you can on the plane crash in which Mrs. Onos first husband was killed. It happened three years ago in central Japan. Dont bother with news items, I have all of those on my desk.”

  “You mean insider speculation about what really happened?”

  “Exactly.”

  ***

  Kay selected one of the floppy straw hats from the hat rack in the corner of the office and headed out into the tropical sun. Despite the glare of the solar furnace, the trades were keeping the temperature down in the low eighties. Her rapid stride stirred up a fragrance from the plumeria petals scattered along the sidewalk. She crossed the street to take advantage of the shade afforded by the more broadly arching royal poincianas lining the west side.

  Two blocks down, Kay turned onto Kapiolani Street, there having to make do with the protection of the overhanging marquees. Along this, the main street of Napua, the majority of the pedestrians were tourists. Almost invariably, they were dressed in sandals, shorts and flowery Hawaiian shirts. Sporting fanny packs, they strolled about hatless, exposing their fair skins to the fierce rays burning down out of a cloudless sky.

  Kay reflected on how much Kapiolani Street had changed in her ten years of residence in Napua. New buildings and mini malls had almost entirely crowded out the small Momn-Pop businesses during the intervening years. The comparatively tall structures housed examples of what the local Chamber of Commerce lovingly referred to as “the visitor industry.” Tiny restaurants with old-fashioned soda fountains, flower shops, newsstands, small grocery stores, run chiefly by older Japanese…these had all but disappeared.

  Kay suddenly became aware of one survivor of the early days, as the aroma of Chinese food wafted out of the noisy old air conditioner in the otherwise unobtrusive Sings Restaurant. The steam table was the only concession made to changing trends since the aging patriarch of the family had first set up shop in the early days of World War Two. The sight of the two enticing rows of food quickly banished thoughts of salad from Kays head and left her only with having to decide how many items she was going to order, along with the standard double mound of cooked rice.

  Balancing her food and a pot of tea, she found the most remote of the eight or ten tables still unoccupied. There she unloaded her tray and settled down to the serious enjoyment of her rice, fried won ton, sweet and sour pork with daikon, and a vegetable stir fry with straw mushrooms.

  Lost in anticipation, Kay had just picked up her chopsticks when she heard her name. Her first reaction was one of acute annoyance. It would have been so nice to enjoy the meal uninterrupted except by her own thoughts. Her second reaction was one of pleasant surprise. The owner of the voice was Hideko Northrup, a Japanese psychologist who worked at the local medical center.

  Kay liked Hideko, a transplant from Japan who had come to Elima with her American husband and their precocious daughter. It had been several weeks since Kay had last seen her long enough to say more than “hello.”

  “Well, hi! Bring your tray over here, and fill me in on all the recent happenings at the clinic.”

  The small, rather plain woman unloaded her tray and eased herself into the other chair at the table. The conversation quickly covered friends, acquaintances and relatives.

  “Hows Josie?”

  “She just started school this year and loves it. Or, at least she loves being around other children. The one thing bothering her is how no one else seems to know how to read.”

  “How is the teacher reacting?”

  “So far, he thinks shes a jewel.”

  Kay laughed. “Wait till he finds out she reads Japanese too.”

  Hideko lifted the last prawn out of her mixed seafood plate and asked Kay if she was currently handling any interesting cases. “We miss having you drop by the clinic for advice on maniacal killers.”

  “I do have a rather fascinating case at the moment, but I doubt any maniacs are involved. Its the Ono murder.”

  Saying the dead mans name made Kay suddenly realize how much Hideko reminded her of a more famous Ono, the one who had married John Lennon. Hideko was more sedate than Yoko, at least as the latter was portrayed by the media. Both were sharp and Westernized. Then Kay began to compare Hidekos subtle sense of humor with Yokos sardonic qualities, a thought which made her wonder if they really looked similar. Kay tried to remember the last Beatles documentary she had seen, then broke off her mental meanderings to listen to Hidekos question.

  “Really? Who are you representing?”

  “His wife.”

  “Does she speak English?”

  “Most definitely. She isnt Japanese, incidentally. Shes Swedish.”

  Hideko looked over the rim of her tea cup and her eyes crinkled in amusement. “One of those statuesque and stunning Scandinavian beauties, I suppose. Wealthy Japanese businessmen cant resist blonde Nordic types.”

  Kay shook her head. “Nope. Shes blonde, all right, but otherwise she just doesnt fit the stereotype. Shes an unusual person in a lot of ways. For one thing, her English is perfect.”

  Hideko smiled. “I admire her for that,” she said, knowing how her own mishandling of rs and ls frequently confused her patients and even her American husband of ten years.

  “Join the admiration society. She not only speaks perfect English, and perfect Swedish, but perfect Japanese, perfect Portuguese and, by this afternoon, probably perfect Iranian. Shes a former UN translator, and she soaks up languages for a hobby.”

  Hideko deftly cleaned up the last of the rice on her plate, and shook her head. “People with such linguistic talents are really fascinating.”

  “If nothing else, Sigrid Ono is most certainly a linguistic genius. To top it all off, she says shes totally incapable of handling numbers, even had to go to a special school in Sweden because of that.”

  Hideko carefully placed her chopsticks on the back edge of her plate. Kay sat back relaxing with her tea, not noticing the sudden alert interest exhibited by her luncheon companion. “Is she very short?” Hideko asked.

  Kay shrugged. “Maybe. By Swedish standards. Shes five-two or five-three.”

  “What does she look like?” Hidekos voice had taken on a strange intensity, one Kay almost immediately became aware of.

  Kays face showed her concentration as she trie
d to conjure up an adequate description. “Strange and striking. She has kind of a pixie-like face.”

  “What about her eyes?”

  “Youre onto something arent you? Her irises have stars in them. For awhile, when I first met her, I almost thought she was an E.T. What is it?” Kay couldnt repress her own excitement.

  “Williams Syndrome. Is she a warm, outgoing person?”

  “Youre describing her to a T. She exudes friendliness, and its impossible not to respond in kind. Is Williams a common condition?”

  “No. In fact, its rare, and many of the people who have Williams are retarded.”

  Kay laughed. “You lose! It sure doesnt apply to Sigrid.”

  “Youd be surprised how badly they do on IQ tests. They score enormously high on verbal, but theyre disasters otherwise. All of which I suppose really indicates how inadequate the tests are. I sure would like to meet her. Ive read descriptions of Williams Syndrome cases and have seen some tapes of them, but Ive never met anyone who had the condition. My scientific curiosity is brimming over.”

  Kay smiled at Hidekos choice of phrases. While she spoke excellent colloquial English, there were occasional strange lapses. One got the impression she had picked up a phrase from a book but hadnt noticed how it took on a certain quaintness in everyday speech.

  “I cant see any reason why you shouldnt meet her,” Kay said. “In fact, I can see one good reason why you should meet her. Since shes my client, I have to be ready to defend her. If it ever comes to that, a thorough psychological analysis never hurts in a court trial. Ill ask her, and I can almost guarantee beforehand shell be happy to cooperate. The best part of it is Ono Electronics will pay for your services.”

  “Great. Let meknow when she can make it to the clinic, and Ill fit her in no matter what.” Hideko looked at her watch and said, “Oh, oh! Ive got a two-oclock, and its five of already. I have to run.”

  Kay accompanied her out of the restaurant. “One last question before you go. Off the record, of course. Do you think someone like Sigrid could commit murder?”

  Hideko paused, pondered the question, then said, “I really cant think of the circumstances under which such a person would kill anyone, let alone a spouse. All the literature Ive read indicates theyre gentle, loving people, tremendously devoted to friends and family.”