The Yoshinobu Mysteries: Volume 2

by John A. Broussard

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nick came by while I was there and sat down beside me. Thats when he told me he was in love with me. Id suspected it right along, especially after Masas death. Now, here it was, right out in the open. For a moment I felt as though I were watching a bad movie all over again. It was just what Id lived through with Masa. We were speaking in Japanese, and Nicks words were almost identical to those Id heard two years before. All I could think of were the bodies. Yoshi, Keiko, her child, those two poor pilots, and even Masa.” (To say nothing of De Rego, very likely a Japanese mechanic too, and certainly Chichi, thought Kay.)

  “Im sure if I had lived in the middle ages, I would have known Id been cursed. Actually, Im not so certain I havent been. Now theres another murder and Nick himself. Its all like a crushing weight on my chest, on my soul.”

  “How did Nick get the note?” Kay asked, more to keep Sigrid talking than anything else. She suspected she knew the answer, remembering the piece of plastic Clyde said had been found in Nicks pocket.

  “I couldnt cope with what he told me when we were back at the pool. I only wanted to get away, so I mumbled something about wanting to get one of my Farsi books. He insisted on getting it for me, so I gave him my card. He went off to get the book. I tried to get my thoughts together and decided Id tell him everything when he came back. He never did.

  “Now I know what happened. He saw the note on my dresser, took it with him, and went off to arrange the murder of the blackmailer. He did it to protect me, and he died in the process.”

  Shes not going to find out from me he was a yakuza, Kay said to herself. Im going to leave all those explanations up to Hideko.

  Sigrid downed the last of her coffee, which had long ago grown cold. “So now you can call the police,” she said. “Im ready to pay the price for what Ive done.”

  “Youll do no such thing.As far as theyre concerned, the case is closed.”

  “But you have to tell them. It would be a crime to conceal a crime.”

  “Not when Im an attorney and youre my client, and Im supposed to defend you. No matter what.”

  “I dont understand.”

  “I guess the rules must be different in Sweden, Sigrid. Here, I cant tell the police anything youve told me. The rule goes way back into English Common Law. An attorney cannot reveal a private communication from a client except under extraordinary circumstances. For example, if I had reason to believe you might do harm to someone else, Id have to reveal that. Do you think theres any danger of that?”

  Sigrid looked aghast.“Theres only one person I can think of I would do any harm to.”

  “I know who you are referring to and this is an instance which is not a matter for the law, its something Hideko Northrup should deal with.”

  The faintest of smiles returned to the face which was so accustomed to smiles. “There really is no danger of my harming even that person, but I will go see Hideko tomorrow.” She rose, and added, “Ive burdened you enough. I should be going back.”

  Kay reached out a hand. “Why not stay the night? We have a spare bedroom.”

  Sigrid shook her head. “No. I should go back and stay at the suite. I have to start dealing with my life again. Isnt there an old saying in Americaif a horse bucks you off, you should get right back on or else youll never get over your fear?”

  “No, please. I have some questions.”

  The faint smile became a full-blown one, and Sigrid sat back down. “For listening to me so long, the least I can do in return is to answer any questions you have.”

  “Why didnt Masa want you on the Board of Directors of Ono Electronics?”

  Sigrid pondered the question for a moment. “I think first I should tell you Ono Electronics was his greatest love. He founded it himself, nursed it through terrible days in postwar Japan, and made it grow into the giant it is today. He wanted it to live beyond him and to live in good health. Masa was an unusual businessman, since he could see into the future and always made plans for it. He knew the Marikos are almost extinct in Japan. He knew Japanese women are demanding a greater say in society and how, inevitably, women would become members of the Board.

  “Now, hed already given me a large number of shares in the company as a wedding gift. So he could envision me as a major stockholder being elected to the Board, perhaps as a token woman.” She chuckled. “He also soon found out, and to his horror, how I have absolutely no business sense. So, though he wanted to provide for me, he most certainly didnt want his company being run by a board containing even one economic idiot.”

  Kay smiled at the frankness of the answer before passing on to her next question. “Do you think Nick suspected you of killing Masa before he read the letter?”

  “You know, Kay, its a funny thing. Just a short while back, I was talking to Nick about the plane crash and, while at the time I didnt think of it at the time, now Im almost sure he was trying to tell me something.”

  “What?”

  “He was trying to tell me how someone had been hired to sabotage the plane. I didnt react to the hints then, maybe because I couldnt believe then anyone would have done that. Even now, Im probably reading much more into what he said than was there.”

  Then again, maybe youre not, mused Kay. Nick could easily have been Onos contact man, having his yakuza friends locate a suitable mechanic to do the dirty work, and then lining up a driver to finish off the mechanic afterwards. Perhaps he had even urged Ono on, knowing Sigrids first husband was the major obstacle between him and Sigrid. Maybe he thought Onos health would soon fail him, and then the path to Sigrid would be completely clear. With such a scenario, his divorce at about the same time was no longer mere coincidence.

  But, Kay decided, Im not about to tell Sigrid there were two monsters who wanted her. Ill leave it up to Hideko to decide what to do about such revelations. She has her work cut out for her.

  ***

  Jenny had made up her mind. While staying close to Kay, she allowed Sigrid to scratch her head as they walked to the door.

  “Remember,” Kay said firmly, “You tell nothing of this to anyone except Hideko.”

  Sigrid was now wearing one of her familiar, contagious smiles. “I promise. Ill call her as soon as her office opens.” Kay flipped on the porch light, then watched the small, compact figure climb into the BMW. She saw the car go up the drive, turn toward Napua and finally vanish into the distance. She was just about to take Jenny out for a late night romp when the phone rang.

  “Sid? That must be some party. Isnt it time to get up, there? Its after midnight here. Why are you calling back?” Jenny, looking concerned at the tone of Kays voice, came over, put her head in Kays lap and looked questioningly up at her. Kay gave her a pat of reassurance.

  “Mom and I had a big quarrel.”

  “Oh, no. How could you, Sid?

  “She kept insisting shed had enough of my company. Insists I have to take the first plane out in the morning to get back to her lovely daughter-in-law. So I finally gave in, with great reluctance. Ill be arriving in Honolulu in time to catch the last plane to Elima.”

  “Terrific. Ill be waiting at the airport. While I have you on the phone, theres something Ive been meaning to ask you.”

  “Whats that?”

  “Could we get ourselves a dog?”

  “Well, I wasnt going to tell you until I got back, but Joe Olivera approached me when we were at his place. Hes got a chance for a years training on the Mainland which would open up a big job for him in the companymaybe over here somewhere. Hes taking his family, naturally, and hed like to take Jenny too, but he doesnt want to go through all the anti-rabies shot hassle, the microchip business and maybe quarantine anyway for her if he is relocated back to Hawaii. So he asked me if wed be willing to take care of her for a year.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I said Id have to talk to you first, and wed have to see how she worked out.”

  “O.K. Sid. Ill see you tonight.”

/>   “Hey! Wait a minute. Whats the rush?”

  “Joe should be getting home from his shift about now. I want to call him right away to tell him Jenny worked out.”

  END

  DEATH TO ORDER

  Chapter 1

  There is no one so lonely as a stranger in a crowd. Morton Dyer remembered someone from the remote past having spoken those words. At the moment, the statement seemed to be unvarnished truth. Sitting in a corner of the waiting room watching the New Year celebrants getting ready to board the Midnight Special, Flight 212 from San Francisco to Hawaii, the stranger envied the crowd. The booze must have flowed freely, he reflected. Catching sight of at least one flask making the rounds, he realized it was still flowing.

  The New Year would have taken more than alcohol for Morton to greet it with any enthusiasm. The call from Isobel had been a thinly disguised revelation of her knowledge about the fake purchase orders. The cold voice of Hawaii Harvests Vice President in charge of marketing had made it clear she would be at the airport in Elima waiting for him. Morton wondered who else would be there waiting at two in the morningor earlier. What with the new, fast two-engine planes on the Pacific hop, it could be even earlier than two if they had a good tail wind.

  Joe Demos, the owner and president wouldnt be one of the group waiting for him, Morton decided. For sure. Joe was too busy trying to salvage odds and ends from the sinking company to be much concerned with what Morton had been doing.

  Would Richard Hanamoto, vice president in charge of personnel be there? How much did he know? Isobel had no great fondness for the stocky Richard and even less for his brother, Winston, the chief accountant. Had she spoken to them? Unlikely. But, really, none of it made much difference. This was the end of the run, and it didnt matter who was at the finish line to greet him. Looking back at the past six months, Morton wondered why he had embezzled the funds, wondered even more how he had expected to avoid being caught.

  Charlotte, his wife, had been the first to bring up the scheme. Damn Charlie anyway! She had always liked money, had never had enough, and when shed found out just how much cash there was sitting around waiting to be skimmed off the top of the badly managed company, shed begun to work on Morton. When Charlie made up her mind, there was no changing it.

  Morton broke out of his reverie as the scuffling near the door to the plane became cheers and “Should auld acquaintance be forgot.” Party hats toppled. The harassed ticket taker dropped the boarding passes and had to fish them out of the debris, his efforts accompanied by roars of laughter and some unhelpful help from the crowd. Morton glanced at his watch, deciding the revelers were welcoming in the New Year a bit early. Quarter to twelve, he thought. Time enough for me to go to the can and let the crazies board first.

  For all the talk of heavy holiday traffic, partially filled planes were flying out of SFO. Most celebrants wanted to be on the ground to greet the New Year, and Morton met only a scattering of potential passengers along the hall. A “Closed For Repairs” sign greeted him at the nearest mens room, and he went off in search of another. His insides rumbled as he sat on the toilet, constipated more than ever. Finally, giving up, he headed back to Gate 42. His first impression when he arrived was hed made a wrong turn somewhere. It had to be Gate 42 of some other wing. The floor was covered with litter, the door to the passageway was closed, the waiting room was empty. It was then he looked up at the clock badly placed above and behind his head. Damn! he said to himself as the realization hit home. Hisprize Seiko was fifteen minutes slow. Hed missed his plane. Going to the thick glass and looking out into the night, he could see the signaler waving the jet off its circle and out to the runway. A Nationwide Express jitney was zipping its way back to the baggage room.

  Mortons next feeling was one of wry amusement. There wont be any problem catching the two A.M. flight, he thought, which will give me a two hour reprieve. Big deal! Sitting back down in the waiting room, he unstrapped his watch and reset it by the airport clock, while at the same time telling himself not to trust his erratic timepiece. He toyed with the idea of alerting Isobel to his later arrival, then decided to let her stew. Finally, slouching back in the chair, he tried for the hundredth time to think of some way around the disaster waiting for him at Napua airport.

  Morton Dyer was not someone anyone would remember. Five-nine, blond-brown hair, faded blue eyes, in his thirtiesbut as likely to pass for ten years older or ten years youngercarrying a few extra pounds around his middle, he was only a face in the lonely crowd hed pondered about a short half-hour earlier.

  There had been nothing outstanding about Morton until his senior year at college, and none of his doings had suddenly made him stand out, but something had. A piece of faulty radar equipment and a chance microburst at the Denver airport had combined to slam Aunt Carolines Lear Jet into the ground, just yards from the runway, and Aunt Carolines tidy little fortune had gone to her only living relative. Mourning her not at all, since hed hardly known her, Morton had marveled at how a plane crash could have so thoroughly changed his life. Probate, creditors, inheritance taxes, and the ever present attorneys whittled the sum down to more manageable proportions, but the word went around about how Morton was no longer just an undergraduate working his way through the University of Chicago. Following the good fortune came Charlotte Beaudoin, very soon to become Charlotte Dyer.

  Morton never asked himself if the popular Charlie had been motivated by his new found wealth, and it would have been perhaps unfair to think her interest in him was totally commercial. It would have been quite unthinkable, however, to assume Charlie would have been smitten by a Morton Dyer with an unpromising future and an even less promising wallet. The June of their graduation they married, and the Beaudoin parents and Charlies sister, Lamerne, welcomed their new son-in-law and pitched in to help with the daunting task of spending the newly acquired fortune.

  It had been Charlies idea to move to Hawaii, but Mortons to go to work for Hawaiian Harvest. They built themselves a luxury home on Kula Hill. The Hill was an expensive outgrowth of Napua, county seat and major city of the island of Elima.

  At first, Charlie had bridled at the thought of living out in the “boonies,” as she put it, but a readily available company plane and the short flight to Honolulu mollified her, especially when she learned it was fashionable to live on one of the Neighbor Islands rather than on Oahu. And Morton surprised himself by finding he enjoyed working more than playing, and had some talent to contribute to the rapidly expanding macnut processing company.

  The five years of his employment went amazingly well. His efforts were rewarded by promotions, though not by any really significant increases in salary. His job kept him away from home during most of his waking and sleeping hours, an arrangement which pleased Charlie no less than him and which undoubtedly helped to prolong their marriage. But there were two dark clouds on his horizon, clouds he largely ignored but occasionally glimpsed from the corner of his eye. Only within the last six months had they enlarged and demanded more than just passing attention. The most ominous one was his own rapidly dwindling bank account. Some investments had turned sour, but the chief factor responsible for his rapidly diminishing affluence was Charlies insatiable capacity for spending.

  The other cloud seemed less ominous, until it became obvious it had a velvety black lining. As though trying to exceed Charlies gift for spending money, Joe Demos and his wife Zoe, the owners of Hawaiian Harvest, were gradually sapping the companys strength. Profits which had been plowed back in earlier years now went for a luxurious second home in Honolulu, a private yacht, a world tour, and clothes and jewelry for Zoe driving Charlie into a frenzy of emulation.

  Briefly and blindingly, a ray of sunshine flashed through the cloud now hovering over the company. A generous state legislature and an equally pliable governor, ignoring the follies of Hawaiian Harvests management, and accepting the flimsy explanation how imported nuts from Africa were the major sourceof the companys difficulties, guaranteed an ov
erly generous, short-term, low-interest loan to the failing enterprise. A minimum of safeguards accompanied the contribution. It was this sudden infusion of desperately needed dollars Charlie and his own vanishing fortune had pressured Morton into exploiting, and it was the gross mismanagement of the company which made the exploitation possible. While the company floated on its new found wealth, improved its credit status, came up with a rush of new orders, and became even more careless about its expenditures, Morton began a systematic tapping of this windfall.

  It was a simple matter to paste up invoices for non-existent companies with post office boxes scattered across the US and Canada, and then simply to do a round of collecting on his frequent trips to the mainland. It was even simpler to stamp “delivered” on the carelessly handled invoices in the Hawaiian Harvest business office. Knowing how slipshod the firms bookkeeping was, Morton had almost convinced himself the phony sales would never be discovered. He hadnt counted on Isobel.

  Sitting silently, and brooding over the events of the past six months, Morton could see no solution, no way out of the morass Hawaiian Harvests sudden prosperity had tempted him into. He half heard the announcement over the speaker system; and only its repetition finally penetrated.

  “Friends and relatives of passengers on Flight 212, the Midnight Special to Hawaii, please come to the first class lounge.”

  *** Leonard OHearne had to check three pay phones before finding one with a legible number. Grinding out his cigarette on the floor of the booth and dropping the coins in at the operators request, he waited for the familiar voice at the other end. The conversation was minuscule.

  The voice said, “Hello.”