The waiter was coming toward us carrying a tray laden with our food. I nearly knocked him flat as I rushed by. How Ames managed to pay the bill and still catch up with me before I got out of Triples' parking lot, I'll never know. "I'm coming too, he said, climbing into the car. "Where are we going?
"The Four Seasons, I said. "Maybe they're still there.
But of course Woodruff and Machiko weren't there, or if they were, we couldn't find them.
"What now? Ames asked.
"I don't know, I told him.
We went back down the escalator to the hotel's University Street entrance with its brass and glass doors and circular drive. Beside the door a uniformed doorman and three parking attendants were involved in an earnest conversation about the afternoon's University of Washington football game in Husky Stadium.
"Did any of you happen to notice a wild-looking man come in here in the last few hours? He looks like an unreconstituted hippie-mid-thirties, long brown hair, some gray, wears it in a ponytail. He's a friend of mine. I need to find him.
One of the parking attendants nodded. "You mean the guy in the big green station wagon? Sure, I saw him. He was here, but then he left. Had a little old lady with him.
My stomach turned sour as a solid knot of fear grew in my gut. Woodruff had Machiko, and he had taken her someplace with him. That meant he probably had the sword as well.
"What kind of little old lady? I asked, more out of habit than anything else. I already knew the answer.
"Tiny. Japanese, I'd say.
The parking attendant was basking at being the center of attention. He went on with his story. "When she went to get into the Suburban, it was too tall for her. The guy had a little stool in the backseat. A footstool. She used that.
"Did you say Suburban? I asked. "A green Suburban?
The attendant grinned. "That's right. With a bumper sticker that said, ‘Have you hugged your horse today?'
Two limos filled with members of an arriving wedding party drove into the driveway. The doorman and attendants left off their conversation to go to work.
"I'm a son of a bitch, I said. "What the hell is Clay Woodruff doing driving Kimiko's car, and how the hell did he get it?
Leaving Ames standing there, I hurried back to the car, punched a number into the phone, and dialed the department. Once I was connected, I asked to speak to the traffic supervisor. "This is Detective Beaumont from homicide. Who's this?
"Captain Donovan. What can I do for you, Beaumont? he asked cheerfully.
"I need to have people on the lookout for an old white-over-green Suburban with a bumper sticker that says ‘Have you hugged your horse today?'
"How about a license number instead of a bumper sticker? Donovan asked. "We prefer 'em, actually.
About that time, I didn't need a stand-up comedian. "I don't have a damn license number. The vehicle is registered to a Kimiko Kurobashi who lives over near Colfax. If you can get the number, more power to you.
"So what do you want us to do if somebody sees it? Donovan asked. "Detain it? Blow it up?
"No, call me on my car phone, and let me know where they are. I don't want to spook this guy into doing something crazy. He's got a woman with him, an old woman. I wouldn't want anything to happen to her.
For the first time all trace of humor went out of Donovan's voice. "This sounds serious, Beaumont, like maybe it ought to be going out on an APB.
"No. No APB. Keep it low profile.
"If anything goes wrong, Beaumont, it's your ass not mine.
"Right, I said. "That's not news. And something else. Have someone search along the Burlington Northern track around Industry Square to see if they can locate some fifty-gallon trash bags filled with confetti.
"As in New Year's Eve? Donovan asked.
Donovan is one of those people who couldn't get serious to save his life. "As in from a shredder, I growled.
"Okay, okay, Beaumont. We'll look into it.
I put the phone back in its holder, and then sat there without moving. The engine was running and my hands were on the steering wheel, but I didn't know where I was going. Ames climbed in beside me.
"Goddamnit, Ames, this case is driving me crazy! We've got a damn suspect in jail in Chicago, but it's not even our case. For the life of me, I can't see any Chicago connection back to Tadeo Kurobashi.
"Chris Davenport is from Chicago, Ralph Ames said quietly.
"He is? How'd you find that out? I asked.
"At his office this morning with Machiko. His diplomas are on the wall. Northwestern and Loyola are both Chicago schools.
That took me back a step or two. Why hadn't I made the connection? "Davenport's from Chicago? But then, all kinds of folks are from Chicago. It's not against the law to leave there, you know. People do it all the time.
"His kind of lawyering ought to be against the law, Ames declared grimly. "We have first-year summer interns who do better jobs than he's done for the Kurobashis.
I shifted into gear and started into traffic.
"Where to now? Ames asked.
"Maybe he's still at his office. I want to have a little chat with him.
Ames glanced at his watch. It was 3:35. "I doubt he's still there, he said. "By now he's probably on his way to the memorial service.
"He's going?
"That's what he told Machiko this morning when she asked him about it. Davenport said he was planning to attend.
I had merged onto University and made a dash for the left lane in order to turn north on Fourth and head over to 1201 Third. Now, with a glance in the mirror, I jumped the green light and headed for a right-hand turn onto Fifth instead.
"God damn you, Ames, you're one closemouthed bastard. What the hell else do you know that I ought to know?
"Maybe the memorial service is where Machiko is going, too.
"That's where you're dead wrong. She wouldn't go there on a bet.
"How much? Ames asked.
"How much what?
"How much do you want to bet? As we were leaving Davenport's office, when Machiko asked him if he was going to the memorial service and he said probably, she said she'd see him there.
"I'll be damned, I said.
I was a man putting together a jigsaw puzzle in the middle of an earthquake, with pieces falling off the table in all directions. Important pieces. Corner pieces. Machiko Kurobashi, who had been dead set against holding any kind of memorial service, was now planning to attend one organized by her sworn enemy. And my friend, old Aimless Ames, had been sitting on a ton of information like a great big bird without feeding me any of it. Maybe Davenport was the Chicago connection. Maybe it wasn't Kurobashi at all. I fumbled in my pocket and got out the notebook where I had written down Alvin Grant's home number.
"Call this guy at home. Have his wife wake him up if you have to. Tell him I need to know if he's ever heard of anyone named Christopher Davenport.
Darting in and out of traffic, I turned down the hill on Yesler and raced across the north/south arterials on a series of yellow lights. If my driving scared him, Ralph Ames didn't say anything about it. He had picked up the cellular phone and was punching numbers into it.
When I reached the corner of Main and Occidental, I discovered that the whole half block along Main was reserved for fire department vehicles only. I parked there anyway, leaving the motor running and the flashers on.
Someone was just answering Alvin Grant's phone. "When you get done, park this thing, will you?
Ames nodded, holding the phone to his ear. He was looking ahead of us toward the pay parking lot off on our right. He was the one who saw it first.
"Wait a minute, isn't that the Suburban?
I looked where he was pointing, and sure enough there in the middle of the lot sat a hulking green and white Suburban. I could see the outline of the bumper sticker even though it was too far away for me to read the words.
"I'll be damned! With that, I slammed the car door shut and started inside.
Waterfall Park, as it's called, takes up a quarter of a block. Walled in with red brick, it has a terrace with small outdoor tables, while in one corner a two-story-high waterfall drowns out the noise of city traffic with the roaring rush of flowing water. I headed for the open gate at a dead run, only to almost collide with a man in a heavy motorized wheelchair who was trying to maneuver through the same space at the same time I was.
"Sorry, the man said, but it didn't sound like a man speaking. There was a tinny, canned quality to the voice.
"My fault, I said.
I looked down at him then. He was an older man, probably well into his sixties, whose body was terribly twisted and bent. On his lap sat a computer, a laptop very much like the one I had seen Clay Woodruff using to single-handedly produce a hotel full of music in Port Angeles. Laboriously, the man pressed two keys on the computer. The voice said, "I'll go.
Just then Bernice Oliver came hurrying over. "Sorry it took so long, Clarence. All the handicapped spots were taken. She looked up at me. "Why hello, Detective Beaumont. I'd like you to meet my husband, Clarence.
The last thing I wanted to do right then was hold still for introductions, but there was no way to escape.
"We've already met, I said.
Clarence Oliver once more pushed some buttons on the computer. It wasn't an instantaneous process, because it took time for him to locate the keys with his badly crippled fingers. As soon as he did though, a motor whirred and the chair moved effortlessly through the gate. Bernice Oliver stood on the sidewalk, watching her husband's slow but smooth progress as he negotiated the corner in front of the waterfall and rolled up the walkway to where a group of people were gathered at the far end of the park.
"He did so want to come, Bernice said to me. "It's the least we could do. I don't know how we would have managed if it hadn't been for Mr. Kurobashi. It's his invention, you see.
"What's his invention?
"Why the computer, of course. Not the computer, but the program in it. You saw how it works-the voice synthesizer, moving the chair. That's all Mr. Kurobashi's doing. He did it for a lark, and wouldn't take a dime for it, either. I never would have been able to keep Clarence at home this long if it hadn't been for that. I have some help, of course. A visiting nurse comes in for a while every day, but that computer has been such a blessing. That was the worst thing about it. Losing the ability to communicate. The computer changed all that. Such a blessing, she said again, and walked away.
I stood for a moment longer, watching Bernice rejoin her husband and continue on to the others. I remembered Big Al's and my conversation when we had speculated about the cause of Mrs. Oliver's fierce loyalty to her dead boss. I had an answer to that question now, and it had absolutely nothing to do with screwing around. So Tadeo Kurobashi had done another good deed. Then what was his connection to a Mafia clan in Chicago?
The delay at the gate had broken up my headlong plunge into the park, and now I stood there a few moments longer, trying to see who was there and who wasn't. Clay Woodruff was easy to spot. He had come forward to meet the Olivers and was standing in front of them, nodding in agreement to something that had been said.
Ames appeared behind me, rushing and out of breath. "I parked the car in a lot, but I had a hell of a time doing it, he said. "What's going on down here? Almost all the spaces are full.
"What did Grant have to say?
"You're not going to believe it.
"Tell me, goddamnit.
"Christopher Davenport Senior is Aldo Pappinzino's personal attorney.
"No shit! I turned and sprinted into the park. I had gone only a few steps when George Yamamoto, seated at one of the tables on the terrace, stood up and raised his hand, motioning for silence. Almost instantly, the people grew still. Someone switched off the waterfall. Outside the confines of the tiny park, we could hear the rush of traffic which had previously been drowned out by the roaring water. From the band shell a block away came a wavering high-school-band rendition of "The Stars and Stripes Forever. Inside Waterfall Park itself, it seemed almost eerily quiet.
There was a woman dressed in black sitting at the table with George. Her back was to us, but George nodded to her before he began to speak. Even from the far corner, his voice carried throughout the park. Everyone fell silent. I had taken several more steps, but I stopped now in order to hear.
"When Tadeo and I were young, this park was nothing but an empty lot. We met here as boys, years before Minidoka. This was where we learned to play baseball, to shoot baskets. I have invited you all here today, to honor our friend. Today I have learned things about Tadeo that I never knew before, things about people he helped, things he did that he never broadcast.
"This is not a formal service, not a religious service. Tadeo was not a religious man. He was a good man. Tadeo did not want a funeral, and so no funeral was planned. This is instead a service of remembrance. His wife, Machiko, is here with us. She had not planned to come today, and many of you may never have met her. If you have a chance, and if Tadeo made a difference in your life, let her know about it. This may be your only opportunity.
He held out his hand toward the woman seated at the table and helped her to stand. She was wearing a long black silk kimono, and it wasn't until she turned to face us that I realized it was Machiko Kurobashi. She nodded to the one hundred or so people who were gathered around, then she sat back down at the table. George Yamamoto raised his hand, and the waterfall once more roared to life.
"I'll be damned, I said.
"It's a good thing you didn't bet, Ames said over my shoulder.
Once more we started toward George's table. He saw us coming and waved.
"I believe you know both these people, George said to Machiko as we got closer. She looked up at us and nodded.
Stumped for something to say, I didn't want to blurt out what Ames had just told me about Christopher Davenport. "I was worried about you, I said finally. "I didn't know you knew Mr. Woodruff.
"Didn't, she answered. "Do now. Good man.
"How is Kimi?
"Mr. Woodruff see Kimiko in Spokane today. Much better. Get well soon.
"Looks like you were just pushing panic buttons on that one, Ames whispered under his breath.
Machiko began struggling to get up. She had a new cane, a metal three-pronged one, to replace the treasured one made of gnarled wood. I took her elbow and helped her to her feet.
She smiled up at me gratefully. "I talk to people, she said.
I turned to George, and he motioned for Ames and me to sit down. "How did all this happen?
He shrugged his shoulders. "Believe me, I have no idea. This morning, when she came to my office she said she had changed her mind and wanted to come to the memorial service. I was surprised.
"Me too, I said.
I watched Machiko limp her way through the crowd, stopping now and then to speak to someone. I noticed she didn't shake hands, and she seemed to be carrying herself oddly, with one elbow stiffly bent. Her arm looked almost as though it were still in a sling although no sling was visible. I assumed that it was some lingering aftereffect of her injuries and didn't think much about it.
She stopped briefly by the Olivers. Clay Woodruff was still there, talking animatedly. Machiko listened to what he had to say with a kind of grave interest, then she went on. When she was about halfway to the waterfall, I realized that she was no longer following a random path from person to person. She was moving purposefully, with some definite goal in mind.
At almost the same instant, I saw Chris Davenport. He had obviously arrived late and was standing in the same gate we had all passed through earlier. He too was assessing the situation. Unerringly, Machiko was headed toward him.
She stopped for a moment and seemed to struggle with her sleeve, not the one holding the cane, but the other one, the one I had thought was lame. The arm dropped to her side, and for only the briefest moment, the sun caught the glint of metal.
With a flash of insight, I knew what I had seen, knew what was going to happen.
Machiko Kurobashi had the sword in her hand, and she intended to use it.
"My God, I groaned. "She's going to kill him.
If Chris Davenport was somehow behind all this, then I couldn't quarrel with Machiko's intention. But I had to stop her, no matter what. If the sword became a legitimate murder weapon, it would never be able to accomplish Tadeo Kurobashi's dream. It would go back to the evidence room, not to Sotheby's. For Tadeo's sake, for Kimi's, and most of all for Machiko's, I had to stop her.
I leaped to my feet, sending the metal chair crashing into the brick wall behind me. I vaulted over the low wrought-iron fence that separated the upper level of the terrace from the lower walkways. Machiko Kurobashi was diagonally away from me across the park. She was still a good ten steps away from Davenport when I knocked over the chair, and she turned, pausing slightly, to see what had caused the disturbance.
Meanwhile, Davenport caught sight of her. He waved and moved eagerly in her direction, the phony metallic smile plastered on his chipmunk face.
With both of them moving, they were closing on one another far too rapidly for me to get there in time. I had to do something to stop her.
"Machiko, I shouted. "Machiko Kusumi. Stop.
And she did. Long enough to turn and look at me. Long enough for me to reach her side and grasp her wrist.
"Don't, I said. "Don't do this. You mustn't.
She tried to pull her wrist free from my hand. The sword, visible to me, was still concealed from Davenport behind a fold of the flowing kimono.
"I must, she whispered fiercely. "I must kill him. Let me go. Tadeo do this for me. I do it for him.
Davenport must have been close enough by then to hear her. He stopped in confusion and looked around, searching for an escape route, edging back the way he had come.
But Machiko hadn't given up. With an incredibly strong jerk, she pulled her hand free of mine, brandishing the tanto in the air. I knocked it down. Down and away. If it hadn't been for the splints on my hand, I probably would have lost some fingers to the razor-sharp blade. The sword crashed to the ground and went spinning harmlessly across the bricks.
Machiko dropped to the ground too. For a moment I thought I had hurt her, but she knelt there sobbing hopelessly. I ducked down beside her to see if she was injured.
She wasn't. Machiko Kurobashi had set her heart on revenge, and I had thwarted her, stayed her hand. She crouched there, weeping brokenheartedly. As soon as I understood that, I jumped back up and looked around for Christopher Davenport.
He was gone. Disappeared completely, taking his metallic smile with him.
"Stay here, I ordered Machiko. "You stay here. I'll go get him and bring him back.
Like most things, it was a hell of a lot easier said than done.