Summer of the Big Bachi (20 page)

 

 

As he backed out the Ford truck from the long driveway, he noticed that Mari was still standing behind the screen door, holding the poster board, smudges of red and yellow held captive with Elmer’s glue.

 

 

Now, thinking back, Mas wished that he had agreed to the interview, or maybe at least told Mari what he thought of her poster. “Nice job, beautiful.” But he was jealous, mad that Haruo could do what he could not.

 

 

 

It was past noon when the phone rang. It was Haruo again— this time panting like one of the those wild dogs on the run in Mas’s neighborhood.

 

 

“Whatsamatta?” Mas said. Haruo was the last person he wanted to talk to.

 

 

“Itsu bad.” Haruo wheezed. “Itsu badder than bad.”

 

 

“What?” Mas’s heart began pumping hard. It couldn’t be about Tug. He had to be in good condition.

 

 

“The boy. The Kimura boy. Mas, heezu in jail.”

 

 

“Jail?” Probably driving, thought Mas. Those young kids were crazy these days.

 

 

“Itsu so bad.”

 

 

Mas pushed some air out of his lungs in disgust. Haruo was always the one to make a big thing out of nothing. “He a Japanese citizen. I sure the government back him up.”

 

 

“Me heezu only phone call. You believe that? Before I left the hospital, I tell him, ‘You needsu help, just call me.’ And look whatsu happen.”

 

 

“Haruo, stop actin’ like a fool and tell me.”

 

 

Haruo’s breathing, which sounded wet and sticky, slowed. “That girl all beat up, Mas. Haneda’s mistress. Ova in Kaiser on Sunset. Hangin’ by a thread.”

 

 

Mas’s heart sank. He pictured the woman with her eyes darkened like a raccoon’s. She was no prize, but why would anyone want to hurt her?

 

 

“Yah, someone smash her head. You believe that?”

 

 

“When?” Mas wound the excess telephone cord around his left hand.

 

 

“Dis morning, I guess.” Wheeze, wheeze. “The police found him at her place and arrested him on the spot.”

 

 

“Police.” Mas pulled at the cord.

 

 

“Yah, somebody call it in. Left no name.” Haruo swallowed noisily. “Thatsu not all, Mas. The boy blames you.”

 

 

“Me?”

 

 

“He says you the one send him ova there. He say you set him up.”

 

 

Mas felt his fingers turn cold and numb. He released the telephone cord and let it drop to the floor.

 

 

“I tell him he wrong, but he don’t listen. I tole him to say nutin’, then he have to hang up. I tell him I help him, Mas, but what can I do?”

 

 

A man who knew the rules, that’s what the boy needed. With Tug laid up, they needed the next best alternative. “Call Wishbone,” Mas said. “Tell him to get a lawyer. And then come ova here and pick me up.”

 

 

“Whatsu we gonna do?”

 

 

Mas wasn’t sure. But this time, he couldn’t just wait.

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

 

It turned out that Yuki hadn’t really been arrested, just held for questioning. Twenty-four hours. He had been found at the scene of the crime, the mistress’s apartment, around eight in the morning. The mistress was still alive, just barely. Wishbone was working on finding a lawyer, while Mas insisted that Haruo come over and pick him up.

 

 

“What he say, exactly?” Mas asked after getting into the car.

 

 

“Didn’t have much time to say nutin’. Just that he found a lady on the floor, her head bashed in and bloody. He got scared, and was going to run when the police found him.”

 

 

Mas began to think hard.

 

 

“So, whatcha gonna do, Mas?”

 

 

“Letsu go.”

 

 

“Where?”

 

 

“North Hollywood.”

 

 

 

The cul-de-sac was quiet. The police must have done their work and left. A little boy was riding a tricycle on the sidewalk. A stray dog crossed the street. Mas and Haruo walked past the mailboxes and went up to the second floor. The door of the apartment was closed, but the drapes were open. Yellow plastic tape with the message DO NOT CROSS limply hung from the door frame.

 

 

They looked as far as they could from the window. Blood, looking like dark paint, was on the wall and also splattered on the floor. The living room looked in disarray, not like the time Mas had visited a few days before.

 

 

“Hey.” The Latino manager appeared from the end unit. “You better stay away from there—”

 

 

Mas was ready to leave, but then the manager stopped him. “Hey, you Junko’s friend, huh?”

 

 

Mas merely nodded. Well, she had once offered him yam wine. That was as friendly as he got.

 

 

The man looked around like he was planning some kind of heist. “Come on,” he whispered. “You want to take a look?” He selected a key from a knot of keys on a chain and unlocked the apartment. “Just don’t touch nothing,” he warned.

 

 

Haruo was plain afraid, so only Mas followed. Both he and the manager stepped over the police tape into the mistress’s apartment. Cushions and a broken lamp were on the living room floor. The row of bonsai trees had been overturned. It was obvious there had been a fight.

 

 

“She has a lot of visitors. Men visitors. You know what I mean?” The manager obviously liked to spread stories. “That’s what I told the police.”

 

 

“You see anybody?”

 

 

“You mean this morning? Just that boy with the red hair. Younger than the other ones. And then there was the other one coming around. But I forgot to mention that one to the police.”

 

 

“What he look like?”

 

 

“Hair slicked back. Glasses. Looked kind of rich.”

 

 

Shuji Nakane, thought Mas. He circled the apartment and noticed Nakane’s business card on the mistress’s table. The trash hadn’t been taken out, so it smelled bad, like rotting chicken. He glanced into the bedroom. The sheets were all in disarray. The black Casio watch that had been on the jewelry box was gone. Other than that, everything seemed in its former place. As Mas walked through the hallway, something didn’t seem the same. There were the photos of Junko with her girlfriends in exotic places, but then, on one side of the wall, just a piece of masking tape. What had been there? Then it hit Mas. That was the photo of the girl with the man who called himself Joji Haneda.

 

 

 

So you see anytin’?” Haruo asked when they got back into the Honda.

 

 

Mas remained quiet. His mind whirled. “What did Haneda want with you? The truth,” he said straight out.

 

 

Haruo slumped in the driver’s seat. “He said we were gonna make some money at the poker game. That he had set sumptin’ up.”

 

 

Fixing a game among friends was unforgivable. Even Riki wouldn’t stoop that low unless things hit rock bottom.

 

 

“I tole him that I would have nutin’ to do with it.”

 

 

“Whyzu then—” How come Haruo ended up at the card game?

 

 

“I just went to play, fair and square.”

 

 

“Then why you here when my truck getsu stolen?”

 

 

“No, no. I come nowhere near dis place,” Haruo maintained.

 

 

Mas ignored this. “How come he needsu money? Heezu doin’ good with the nursery, huh?”

 

 

“I dunno. I guess times are tougher. All those big chain hardware stores selling plants. Hard to compete, I guess.”

 

 

Mas sucked in his loose cheeks.

 

 

“What, you think sumbody beat up Junko for money?”

 

 

She had said Riki had owed her money, big money. Mas wasn’t sure, but he knew that someone close by would have some more information.