ericlustbader.the ninja-第77章
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'Yeah;' Croaker said meditatively。 'Beautiful lady。 Just beautiful。 Like they invented the word for her。'
'It sounds like …'
'Nah。 Not what you think。' They swung onto the highway and Croaker picked up speed。 The wind was still hot enough to keep them from cooling off。 'But it struck me; you know; that this girl's a person just like everyone else。 All anyone thinks of is the image; you know? Her face; her body like that; the facade。 No one would stop to think that she might be just as fucked up as all the rest of us; huh? That she belched after a good meal; dial she might fart once in a while。 Human things。'
He switched lanes; avoiding a blue and white bus; its diesel exhaust asphyxiating。 He jammed his horn as they came abreast; then they were shooting away westward。
'Then she was dead and everybody was making a stink。 She was a celebrity and responsible for a helluva lot of bread; not to mention the hold she had on a multiple million fantasies。 But nobody; I guarantee you; said: There's another life stupidly wasted。 Well; buddy; dial's what I thought about when I stood there in the middle of her bedroom and looked at her cool body。 I thought: She's a human being and I want to know who did this to her。' He shrugged。 'But; hell; I'd do the same for any two…bit whore who got knocked over。 Done it mucho times。 Doesn't go down well with my captain。 But; shit; I never cared a rat's ass about that fucker。 〃A waste of the taxpayer's money; Croaker;〃 he'd say to me。 〃Find something more valuable to do with your time。〃 Jesus!' He hit the steering…wheel with his fist。 'Can you beat that? Christ; that bastard's always got one finger in his nose and the other up his ass!
'Anyway; this case turns out to be the ballbuster of all time。 I mean; there isn't one goddamned break。 All I get is mystery and for that I can go to the movies。
'From what I 。get from her bedroom; there was someone else there that night。 A woman。 A woman who had; it appeared; been intimate with Angela Didion and who might conceivably have seen the murder being mitted。 Only problem is; she's disappeared as if she'd never existed。
'So I'm left with nada and the papers are screaming for a solution; which puts the missioner to screaming at Captain Finnigan; who … but why belabour the point; right? You get the picture。'
They turned off before the multiple exits leading to Manhattan and; in a slow curving glide; moved onto Queens Boulevard。 The westbound traffic was only moderate and they made good time。
'Two or three uniforms went through the building doing preliminary checks … seeing who saw what。 But it being the Actium House; they were told to step softly and whisper at all times。 The result they e back with is nobody knows nothing。
'Okay。 Fair enough。 But a week later; with everyone scream…ing^for blood … my blood … I decide to take a peek myself。 To give you the Reader's Digest version so you won't fall asleep from boredom on me; it turns out that the uniform assigned to canvass Angela Didion's floor missed one tenant。 Turns out she was away when he came round and had just e back。 A little careful digging turns up the interesting fact that she left the morning after the murder … early … …for Palm Springs。 She stayed for seven days and then returned。 She was an older woman。 In her late fifties but looking a good ten years older。 An alcoholic。 I interviewed her at ten in the morning and her breath stank of gin。 Her hands shook and she couldn't stop herself from going to the bottle while I was there。'
He turned off Queens Boulevard at Yellowstone Boulevard; went soudi。 They were in Forest Hills。
'But even more interesting was that she swore she saw a man visit Angela Didion … the same man … over the past six months。 It might have been going on longer。 Six months is when she became aware of him。 Apparently there was a fight there one night and from then on she kept a sharp lookout through her door peephole。 Nothing better to do with her time。' He pulled up in front of a medium…sized one…storey building
with a white brick facade。 It had dark green; rather ginger…bready trim。 A swinging sign on the lawn at the front; black on white; read: PARKSIDE FUNERAL HOME。 A large shade elm stood on the other side of the lawn。 The wooden doors stood open。 As they sat there; several people walked inside。 Nicholas recognized one of the do jo's instructors。
'She gave me a detailed description of the man; Nick。 There's no doubt he's Raphael Tomkin。'
'So Tomkin was having an affair with Angela Didion。 It's not that surprising; two high…powered people living in the same apartment building。 Could she place him there the night of the murder?'
Croaker looked towards the elm。 It rustled slightly in a warm desultory breeze。 'She's afraid of flying;' he said finally。 'She took a chloral hydrate with a large slug of gin and passed out at 6 p。m。 She didn't get up until about five the next morning。'
'When she left for Key West。'
'Yeah; right。' Croaker turned to him。 'But I know what I know。 I've checked and rechecked the movements of all her known intimates。 It was Tomkin; all right。'
'You've got no proof; Lew;' Nicholas said。 'You've got nothing。'
'Less than nothing; buddy;' Croaker said morosely。 He got out of the car and Nicholas followed him up the flagstone path to the funeral home。
Another of the dojo's instructors stopped Nicholas on the steps; said several words to him。 Nicholas nodded。
'Listen;' Croaker said; pulling Nicholas close to him and lowering his voice; 'the Didion case is officially closed。 Finis。 Kaput。 I got the word the other day from jellybelly Finnigan。 This came right from the top; no one would be stupid enough to grease his mick palm。'
'Are you saying the police were bought off?〃
'What I'm telling you is that if I had any lingering doubts as to Tomkin's plicity in this; they went bye…bye with that order to shut down。 Very few people can mand that kind of strict hush。 He's one of 'em。' His voke was a harsh whisper now; sibilant; ledial。 'But now I got a lead。 One of my contacts came through with a make on the other woman in Angela
Didion's apartment the night of the murder。 I'm waiting for her name and address。 When they e dirough; I'm gonna nail that sonovabitch's hide to the goddamned wall。'
The service was brief but expressive; half in English; half in Japanese。 But it was; basically; an American ceremony; which they had both wanted。 Nicholas had been asked to eulogize both Terry and Eileen and he did so。 He spoke in Japanese。 There was music。 A couple; friends of Eileen's。 They were professionals and it showed。 They played traditional Japanese music on f(oto and shauhachi。 And there were the traditional flowers。
Croaker waited until they had walked away from the graveyard。 Behind them; the workmen were beginning to fill in the graves。 There seemed to be no sound as the brown earth filled the spaces。
'Nick;' he said; 'what do the names Hideoshi; Yodogimi and Mitsunari mean to you?'
^^Nicholas stopped and turned away from the sun。 He did not want to put on his sun…glasses。 'They're famous names out of Japanese history。 Why?'
Croaker seemed to ignore the question。 'Could they be people who are alive today?'
Nicholas shrugged。 'It's possible; I suppose。 Sure。 They're family names。 But those threeare linked together by history。 The chances …'
'I see what you mean。'
Past' them; along the black macadam road; a car door slammed and a motor coughed into life; the sound seeming to float on the hot air。 Plane and maple trees rustled their leaves by the side of the padi they were on。 The heat was mounting。
'You'd better tell me what this is all about。'
Croaker reached inside his coat pocket。 He handed over a thin folded slip of what looked like scratch paper。 As Nicholas opened it; he said; 'I found this when I was going through Terry's effects the M。E。 gave me。 It was in his pocket。 It might have been made the night he was killed。'
'So?'
'So there was a man … a Japanese … at the dojo the afternoon
Terry and Ei were murdered。 Two of the instructors … Karate and aikido senseis …
'Sensei。'
'All right; whatever。 They said this man was the best they had ever seen。 Af