Toward Night's End (25 page)

“I got it,” Johnstone assured him. Perhaps one puzzle was now solved, but it only left a greater puzzle behind. “Sean Kanagawa was dead by the time I got there.”

Preston nodded. “I found that out. They killed him.”

“Who?” Johnstone frowned. “Who killed him?”

“I don’t know.” He looked quite distraught. “That’s just it. I don’t know.”

“Start at the beginning for us,” Johnstone advised him.

“Just a minute,” Merrick said. He went over to the MAs and dismissed them. It seemed to Johnstone that Preston tried to use those precious few moments to try to compose himself. Then Commander Merrick was back. “Go ahead, Petty Officer.”

Preston used both hands to rub his face. Then he said quietly, “I don’t know who killed Petty Officer Carsteen.” He glanced at Johnstone. “I know that’s what brought you here.” Johnstone simply nodded. “I can’t help you there. What I can tell you is that, in my mind, he deserved it. Good riddance, you know?”

“Why do you say that?” Merrick pressed him.

“He was a thief. A no-good, thief.”

“What exactly did he steal?” Johnstone asked, recalling that Carsteen played cards. Perhaps he gambled a bit and had gotten in over his head and had resorted to petty theft.

“Well, that’s just it. At first, I didn’t notice it. Unbelievable, you know?”

“Just keep it simple. You didn’t notice what?” Merrick said.

“Parts. Missing gun parts.”

“What? For pistols?” Merrick questioned.

This brought a laugh to Preston. “No, sir. No, I’m one of three in charge of our anti-aircraft guns. We get the parts in. We build them. They don’t all stay here, of course. I guess they’re going to be sent all along the coastline.”

“Anti-aircraft guns,” Johnstone repeated.

“You ever see some, sir?” Preston asked, looking at Johnstone.

“No.”

“They are manufactured in various sizes. Some are built to be mounted on top of a truck. Most have wheels though, allowing you to move them from location to location. You can even tow them by vehicle if you know what you’re doing.”

“And some parts for these went missing?” Merrick pressed the petty officer.

“Right. But it wasn’t noted. You know the Navy, sir. We have so many forms, so much to document. But I was the one who noticed some stuff just didn’t match up. We’d have twenty-four wheels, say. For six guns. That’s what the official record said. Then you check, and there are twenty-one wheels. Missing axles. I mean, it took me a long time to piece it together. For a while, I thought someone just didn’t do the paperwork right. For weeks I thought that. But then it just kept happening.”

“More missing parts?” Johnstone prompted him.

“Yeah. Then when we were missing the firing mechanisms, I knew this wasn’t a paper error. Something was happening.”

“Go on,” Merrick told him.

“I reported it to my CO.”

Johnstone raised an eyebrow. “Would that be Leseman?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did he say?”

“That’s the funny thing. He said it was just a ‘paperwork snafu.’ Those were his words. ‘A paperwork snafu.’”

“He order you to stand down?”

“No, sir, just acted like it was a mistake, not to worry, that sort of thing.”

“But you didn’t think so.”

“No, sir.” Preston took a deep breath, then continued. “I used some fresh seamen. Told them that it was a detection job. But that it wasn’t real. It was a drill.” He grinned at Merrick. “They bought into it. I had four of them on different shifts.” His face suddenly masked with pain. “I got one of them killed.”

“Who?” Merrick asked in surprise.

“Seaman Glenton. Just nineteen.”

“What happened?”

“It was my fault, sir. My fault.” He took a few moments to compose himself, then explained. “I think he figured out that it wasn’t a drill. He wasn’t following orders. My orders to them were to monitor and report. That was it. Monitor and report. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t do anything but watch.”

“What did the seaman do?” Johnstone asked.

“He talked to one of the others. I had four of them. On rotating shifts. The next guy was coming on, and Seaman Glenton told him that Petty Officer Carsteen took stuff just a few hours before. He recognized it was Carsteen, and was going to report to me first thing the next morning.”

“Where were they when this happened?” Merrick asked.

“Outside. Near this building, in fact. But it was night. Change in shift. Carsteen must have heard. That’s the only thing I can figure.”

“What happened to him? Seaman Glenton?”

“Technically, nothing. He’s AWOL,” Preston scoffed.

Johnstone and Merrick exchanged glances.

“He’s not AWOL. I know it. He’s dead.”

“But the other seaman was left alive?” Merrick retorted. “That doesn’t mesh.”

Preston nodded. “It was dark. I don’t think Carsteen knew who the other seaman was. So what could he do?” He shuddered, then looked to Johnstone. “Then a couple of weeks later, he’s dead. Carsteen’s dead. Only thing I could figure was that it had to do with Sean Kanagawa, so I left you the note.”

Johnstone frowned. “Wait a minute. I met with Commander Leseman alone. How could you even know I was here? To even write me a note?”

Preston grinned. “Seaman Nells. His secretary. You called first, if you remember. Told the commander why you were coming to the base. Nells knew. Something like that, the murder of a sailor somewhere off base? It went around the base the day you called.”

Johnstone nodded. That made sense.

“They say new bandage now.”

“Well, let’s take a look,” Betty said standing over Daniel who sat in a chair in their first aid area. His face was still largely discolored, but both eyes were open now. “This might hurt a bit, sorry.” She could see the teenager’s mother out of the corner of her eye, hovering, and thought the boy would do better without his mother present. She delicately pulled on the bandage, and the teenager didn’t even flinch. A moment later it was off.

Daniel looked to his mother. “What does it look like?”

Kumiko shrugged. The nose was still swollen and discolored.

Daniel actually laughed. “Hey, I can see my own nose. Before I just saw the white tape and stuff.”

The nurse laughed with him. “The swelling will go down. Takes time.”

Daniel looked to the nurse. “You have a mirror?”

“Sure,” Betty said, fetching him a small hand mirror.

The teen studied his reflection, then grinned at his mother. “It’s straight at least.”

Kumiko nodded. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” he confessed.

“It will for some time, I’m afraid. But no more bandage. You don’t need it. I know this way it kind of looks worse, and everyone will see it, but—”

“My grandfather won’t notice.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will—”

“Daniel...” Kumiko admonished him.

Daniel grinned again. “He’s blind.”

Betty actually laughed. “Well then, I guess that’s one person who won’t notice. You’re right.” In a more serious tone, she added, “The black and blue will eventually fade.”

“Hi there, Daniel,” a tentative voice said in English.

All three of them turned. Henry awkwardly stood a few feet away. Daniel’s face lit up. He turned to his mother. “Mama, this is Henry. My coach.”

Henry gave a polite nod to Kumiko, offering his right hand. They shook hands.

Daniel looked at Betty. “Can I play baseball now?”

Betty frowned and shook her head. “Your nose needs time to heal. And your head injury too. It’s too soon.”

“But—”

“Look, if a baseball is thrown, and it hits you…no. Or you try to steal a base, some one tags you, you get hit in the head, or your nose…it is too soon. I’m sorry.”

“Daniel, that’s what I came to see you about,” Henry said clumsily.

Looking at his coach’s face, he knew. It was because of Matthew. “You don’t want me even if I could play,” Daniel said bitterly.

Henry cringed a bit. “It’s out of my hands, I’m sorry.”

It seemed to take everything Daniel had to hold back the tears. “You’re wrong.”

Henry looked as pained as Daniel. “It was the other teams. They say if you play, they won’t. I’m sorry.”

“My brother is a good man,” Daniel said defiantly. “You wait and see. He’ll come to camp and you’ll see. Then you’ll come and ask me. But I won’t play for you. Ever.”

“Daniel,” Kumiko chided him.

Daniel looked at his mother. This time he couldn’t help it. Tears welled in his eyes. A single tear fell down his face. “What, Mama? You believe in Matthew, yes? Don’t you?” When she didn’t reply, trying not to cry herself, he went on. “Don’t you believe in him?”

“Of course,” she finally managed.

Daniel turned to Henry. “Just wait. He will be here. I will bring him to you and you will see. What people say, it’s not true. I promise you, it’s not true.”

Henry looked to Kumiko. “I am truly sorry.” With that he gave an awkward half bow and quickly left. And only then did Daniel let himself go, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Did you tell your CO about Carsteen?” Merrick asked. “That Seaman Glenton witnessed him taking the anti-aircraft parts?”

Preston nodded. “Soon as Glenton was reported AWOL, yeah, I told my CO what I knew.” He shook his head at the memory. “He said not to worry. He was handling it.”

“Meaning what, I wonder?” Merrick said out loud.

“All I know is Seaman Glenton went missing, I was taken off that job, and now I’m teaching.” He saw their expressions and shrugged. “Maybe it is for the best. That’s what I tell myself.”

“What do you know about Sean Kanagawa? Your note told me to go there,” Johnstone reminded him.

“Well, once Seaman Glenton said it was Carsteen, I tried to follow him when I could on my off time. See what was going on. I followed him to a Japanese restaurant. Twice. I saw him talking to that Japanese man both times, so then I asked around. Pretty easy to get the story on the restaurant. Family owned. Two brothers, George and Sean Kanagawa.”

“You ever see Carsteen take machine parts to the restaurant?” Merrick asked.

Preston shook his head again. “No. They talked a bit and Carsteen ate there. That’s it.” He looked to Johnstone. “I just figured Carsteen’s death, it had to do with the Japanese somehow. That restaurant, somehow.”

“Tell me about Mrs. Yasui,” Johnstone said to him. He could see Preston’s puzzled reaction, so he added, “Woman with the cut off finger. Her son too.”

Preston glumly nodded. “I think it was the day before Carsteen was killed, I followed him from the restaurant to that woman’s shop. Carsteen went in, stayed for about five minutes, that’s all. He came out and some big white guy was waiting for him – American. Big man, thick beard. They left in a truck together.”

“What about her injury?”

“Well, then Carsteen was dead, the guy at the restaurant was dead, and I still felt like something was going on. So, I kind of watched that woman’s shop. There’s a tea house across the street. I’d go there. Have tea and keep an eye out. What for, I don’t know. Stupid, really.”

“The day she was hurt?” Johnstone pressed him.

Petty Officer Preston nodded. “I saw that big American guy go inside. When he came out, he had a pretty decent-sized knife in his hand. He was wiping the blade, you know? With a handkerchief. I knew it was bad, but…” his voice trailed off.

Johnstone nodded. “Then an older Japanese woman arrived…”

Preston looked surprised. “Right. When she went in, I thought, what the heck is going on? I’ve gotta check it out.”

“And you were in your dress blues,” Johnstone said aloud, trying to piece it all together.

Preston didn’t know what that had to do with anything, but nodded, then continued, “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. That guy maimed that little boy. A little boy.”

“And, you picked up the fingertips.”

He nodded. “I guess when I took them, the little boy thought I was somehow connected with the guy who did it. He was scared to death, you know? I felt bad. I guess he thought I was going to hurt him and his mom, too, but I swear, I had nothing to do with what happened to them.”

Johnstone nodded. The boy got hurt, and in his young mind he associated the pain and maiming with the naval officer. This explained why he reacted so strongly to seeing Merrick at the camp.

“And your card, sir,” Preston continued, “It was on the kitchen table. So I mailed them to you. I didn’t know what else to do. Stupid, I guess.”

Matthew was relieved that Kite had been right – all he had to do was follow orders. It was his second day on board the
USS North Carolina
, the large destroyer still docked at the Wilmington wharf. Needing kitchen staff, his paperwork had been expedited, and they had told him to report on board by 1800 on the day he had signed up. Six p.m. Kite had given him a prompt hug at the bottom of the gangway and reminded him to take the antibiotics on schedule. Matthew thanked him for saving his life, and Kite had simply replied, “Glad to do it, lad. Glad to do it.”

His duties so far entailed cleaning the galley – a chore he had done four times already – and helping organize the loading of the foodstuffs. The previous afternoon he got his first taste of actually cooking. The ship’s cook, a man named Pratt, had ordered him to assist in preparing a stew. Matthew had remembered Kite’s advice to watch the others, and luckily there was another young enlisted man to help. Matthew watched him carefully, then mimicked his moves exactly. He had ended up slicing over twenty onions, which made his eyes tear, but Pratt seemed happy with the thickness of the onions.

The previous day he had found his bunk area in the bowels of the ship, and while some of his shipmates had seemed a little surprised to see a Japanese-American on board, most of the enlisted men ignored him altogether. He had kept the small vial of penicillin on him at all times, guarding it with his life, and he had been pleased to find that Kite was correct about this too – although he wasn’t quite himself, he certainly felt much better.