“Oh you’re very welcome. I hope this helps,” She said as she rose to leave.
“Wait just a minute please,” it was Longfellow, who realized that this woman had direct information pertinent to his case. Why lift it from an inanimate report when he had the source right at his disposal?
“I have other things to do young man. I’ve already given the information to this officer.” She looked in the direction of Sommersby, who seemed tired of the whole proceeding. He didn’t bother to answer.
“Please sit down Missus--?” He let his voice trail off. He had no idea who he was speaking to.
“Pisney. Oh all right. Please don’t take too long.”
After retelling her story, and embellishing it when she could, looking at the floor beneath her the whole time, Gladys Pisney glanced up at the lawyer. He had a bewildered look on his countenance.
“Do you know that what you’ve just told me might have saved another man’s life?”
“Well I certainly hope so. You’ve taken up a good part of my day.” She said in a slightly huffy tone, though secretly she was pleased.
“I’m sorry for that,” he answered. “Of course you will be called to testify in a court of law, but you’ll be doing a tremendous service, and maybe helping to bring the real killer to justice.” He really believed that.
Gladys Pisney felt very important, perhaps for the first time in her life. It wasn’t that she might be saving a man’s life, not at all. She was already picturing her testimony in court, and the positive notoriety she would receive. As she returned to her Cadillac, there was a noticeable bounce in her step.
After his very productive trip to the Sheriff’s substation, Longfellow hurried back to his office to prepare a brief for the court. If he was right, Ivan Dunn was very close to breathing free air.
Chapter Twenty-Five
As the American Airlines DC-3 touched down on a rainy wind-swept runway in Seattle the passenger in seat 21A shifted uneasily. The flight from Los Angeles had been smooth right up until about twenty minutes before landing.
He should have been happy the ordeal was over, but in his mind happiness would not overtake him until the lights on the tarmac at San Diego’s Lindbergh Field signaled he was home again. That wouldn’t happen for at least another two weeks. Unfortunately Seattle was only a stop on his way to his final destination.
There was no direct flight from San Diego to Tokyo, Japan. Angelo Rodrigues was forced to board a bus to Los Angeles, take a taxi to the International Airport, change planes in Seattle, and endure a whole day flight to the orient.
It was a strange set of circumstances that placed Angelo on that path. He didn’t understand it completely. He did know Harry Shields arranged for him to make the trip. The money came from Ivan Dunn.
The whole thing could be traced back to when Gladys Pisney told the lawyer Jered Longfellow about the Asian delivery man. The attorney in turn contacted the court with the new evidence. No one could rationalize why the intruder should be in that house when the Dunns were obviously away. Speculation was, he brought the typewriter and took the pistol. At least there was now a reasonable doubt in the case of the murdered policeman.
The next step was to have the court allow bail. The judge was receptive to this idea, although he set the amount at four hundred thousand dollars, with the stipulation the accused not leave the state.
Harry Shields had been in contact with the FBI lab back east. They related they couldn’t remove any clear prints from the gun involved in the murder, even those of Ivan Dunn. The typewriter was something else again. The paper was clean, but there were smudged prints on most of the keys. Harry had thought this might be the best chance because it was nearly impossible to type with gloves on. One key produced a clear print. The national laboratory outside Washington, DC compared it with a growing list of criminal fingerprints. It was hoped that eventually the data base would be expanded to include nearly everyone in the United States.
Harry needed to stay close to his L. A. office so he could be reached with the results from the lab. His other case load also precluded him from traveling.
Rachel Dunn had just recently returned from Illinois. She hadn’t heard from Joe yet about the disposition of the case against the cop Rusty Ingalls, who might have a grudge against her husband. It was a remote possibility at best, but they needed to follow every lead. The alternative was her husband would go to prison. She wasn’t anxious to board another plane for an even longer flight, but she would do it to save Ivan.
Thomas Embree volunteered to make the trip to Japan. After all, it may have been his fault someone might want to hurt his family. While in Korea he’d been detached on Military Police duty in Tokyo, where the combatants were sent periodically to recuperate from the stress of battle. While there he had shot and killed the brother of Kim Jong, the woman he had hoped to marry. The man was deep into criminal gang activity. It was possible one of the brother’s associates wanted revenge. They were certainly capable of murder.
Thomas request was denied by both Ivan and Rachel however, because were he to enter Japan, it would be much easier to find and kill him. No one wanted to put him in any more danger than that which may already exist. In this scenario it was hard to understand why the killer or killers targeted Ivan instead of going right after Thomas. But then, nothing about this case made any sense from the beginning.
It was determined that FBI Special Agent Angelo Rodrigues would fly to Tokyo to interrogate Kim Jong and hopefully get at least one of the gang members to cooperate in the investigation.
It all became a reality when Ivan Dunn’s money was released from being frozen, so that he might finance the trip.
The government agency known mostly by its initials had initiated an investigation into the killing when local law enforcement balked, thinking they had already solved the case when Ivan Dunn surrendered. Now that there was a Sheriff’s detective on the job, the feds were reluctant to relinquish their interest, mainly because Harry Shields and Ivan Dunn were friends. It was providential for the Dunns, since the local police had no desire to pursue a lead across the pacific, even if their budget would allow it.
Angelo’s connections caused him to arrive in Tokyo at a very late hour. He found a cab driver who at least spoke some English, and was able to extract from him the name of a reputable hotel in the city.
After what seemed like a very circuitous route, the driver dropped him at the front entrance of the hotel he had recommended, not offering to carry his bags, even from the trunk of the cab. Luckily Angelo had only two modest suitcases, which he lugged to the registration counter in one trip, as he looked around searching for an elevator. There was no way he wanted to carry his load up stairs. He heaved a sigh of relief when he spotted the lift.
Once in his room on the third floor of the fairly clean establishment, he quickly readied himself for bed. He would wait ‘til morning to formulate his plans for the coming day, which he hoped would be very productive. With any luck he would find the link to the killing of Jack Carey, and the nearly perfect frame of Ivan Dunn.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Angelo cursed his bad timing when he realized after waking that it was Sunday. He would be able to accomplish very little since most of the city would be shut down as if it were a holiday. His schedule would be pushed back another day so he wouldn’t be able to return home as soon as he had originally thought.
He had another disappointment when he realized the hotel rooms, at least his, had no shower. He hated taking baths and lying in his own dirty water.
After his less than invigorating experience in the rusted around the edges tub, he thought that if this was one of the better hotels, heaven help the inhabitants who were trying to save money at the lesser establishments.
Angelo didn’t relish the thought of just sitting around his room all day, and let’s face it, there was no room service. He had to eat, even if it was fish and rice. It occurred to him he had no idea of the culture of the Orient.
He had missed that little skirmish in Korea thanks to his tender age. Could he get pancakes? He doubted it seriously.
He was pleasantly surprised to find the hotel did have an attached restaurant, and American food was available. After devouring some overly fluffy flapjacks, and a thin greasy slice of fried ham, washed down with weak tea, he ventured out onto a fairly quiet street and began to walk, unaware if it was south, west, north, or east.
There were no honking horns, nor was there any street noise of any kind. He felt lucky he didn’t need a cab on this day. He was keenly aware the city was only nine years removed from the violent war they themselves, at least their militant leaders, had initiated. What progress that had been made in the less than thriving city, was mostly due to the influx of western money.
Here, just outside the neon and fluorescent covered buildings of downtown Tokyo, it was strangely quiet. He saw a couple of rickshas, and only one or two pedestrians out and about. Tourism obviously was confined to the city itself. There were a few nearly vacant spaces, with only the rubble of buildings that once stood there. Recently built but unfinished structures also dotted the landscape, testimony that the suburbs were slowly coming back.
He must have been walking for two hours when he finally stopped to rest his aching feet. As he looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings it occurred to him that he would have to find his way back to the hotel, and that might not be an easy task, considering all the side streets he had wandered.
Just across from where he had stopped to rest was a store that caught his attention. Above the door was a sign in English with a familiar name.
Before he left the states Angelo had been given a letter. Thomas Embree had no idea whether the young portugee could find the girl the American soldier had fallen in love with during the war, or if she was still alive for that matter. The truth was he’d written the letter shortly after arriving back in the United States, thinking there was no way it would ever be delivered. He’d had no address to send it to. This was just a way to sort it all out, what had happened, and his feelings for the half Japanese, half Korean woman.
When Thomas learned that Angelo Rodrigues would make the trip, he was disappointed. He should be the one to go. It may have been his fault that all this trouble had fallen on Ivan and Rachel. That is, if the Japanese underworld had found him and needed to extract revenge for the killing of one of their own His return to Tokyo would also have given him the chance to search for Kim, though he had no idea if she had stayed in Korea after the war, or returned to Japan. He’d been unable to forget her. Fact is he hadn’t even tried. She had gotten into his soul, and she was not easily exorcised.
He had agonized over the words. They had to be just right, even though, he was sure, he would be the only one to see them.
My Dearest Kim,
I could almost see the hate in your eyes the last time we saw one another. I was devastated! I felt so much love and sympathy for you. I wanted to reach out and comfort you, as if I wasn’t the one who took your brother from you. I wanted everything to go back to the way it was when we were together before-before I went through that door and killed your blood relative.
I want you to understand that I had no choice, and that I didn’t know my assailant was your brother. I only knew I would be dead if I didn’t return fire.
I know excuses are hollow at this point in time, and that’s why I won’t send this letter. Perhaps I have lost you forever, and I do understand. There will come a time that your grieving will be over. Perhaps then your love for me will return from that corner of your mind, where it has been stored, and you will remember how it was with us, and you will find me.
Until then just know my love for you is unconditional, and I will wait.
All My Love, Tom
Angelo blinked. He reached in his coat pocket and touched the letter. The sign still read ‘KIM’s BOUTIQUE’. It couldn’t be the same woman. When Thomas Embree had given him the letter, he questioned its significance. Thomas had said nothing, except that it was important it be delivered. Angelo had learned the background from Ivan Dunn, after they had finally met.
The erstwhile Private Investigator, turned fugitive, then jailbird, after being released on bail, thought there might be a better chance Angelo might look for Kim Jong if he knew what had happened with the two star-crossed lovers.
Angelo hastily crossed the dirt street and entered the establishment. A very pretty young Asian woman stood behind a counter that hid the lower half of her body. He hoped she was Kim Jong, given the sign above the door, but he couldn’t be sure.
He’d come in contact with very few people of the female persuasion since he’d arrived on their continent. If this vision of loveliness was any example, being a bachelor, he would certainly have to see more of this country. Her slightly slanted eyes did nothing to mar the beauty of her high cheek-boned face.
“May I help you sir?” she greeted in only slightly broken English.
He was still studying her, and didn’t react immediately.
“Sir?” she repeated, a little more forcefully this time.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you the proprietor of this establishment?” It didn’t occur to him that she might not understand what the word proprietor meant.
She dispelled that notion right away, as she answered, “Yes, I am Kim Jong. May I help you?”
Angelo smiled. He was proud of himself for finding her. “You may not believe this, but I came to this country looking for you.”
“How can that be? I not know you.” She was wary of this stranger.
“Be that as it may, I know you.” He was having fun with her.
Another customer strolled into the shop, a large Asian woman. Kim said, “Please sir, as you can see, I very busy. What is your business here, since you obviously didn’t come to buy anything?”
“You go ahead and wait on this lady. My business will take a few minutes, and I’m in no hurry.”
He wanted to see what she looked like without being hidden behind the counter. He had taken into account her full bosom and narrow waist. As she walked by him to where her next customer was appraising some women’s apparel, he noticed she was evenly proportioned top to bottom. Her modest skirt was hemmed just below the knee, American style. She had slim ankles caressed by perfectly straight nylon stockings. Angelo guessed she was still in her twenties.
Presently she returned, as the would-be customer exited the store without any packages.
“I hope I didn’t rush you,” he said.
“Oh no, the lady just window-shopping.” He was slightly surprised she used the term, which he thought was completely American.
“Now what did you come all this way to see me about?” Kim spread her arms expansively.
Suddenly, miraculously, her pidgin English had disappeared. She saw the questioning look on his face.
“I’m sorry. I use the other language for the tourists. You are obviously not a tourist, though I suspect you are a stranger to my country.”
Angelo understood perfectly. He suspected it was the same with the waiters in a Chinese restaurant back home. Most were probably educated in the national language of the states, though it brought more flavor of the orient if they used broken English. And it enhanced the dining experience. Or at least that’s the way it was perceived. ‘Oh well’ he thought, It was time to get to it.
He reached in his pocket. “I have a letter for you.” As he retrieved it from his jacket, he was thinking it was strange he would bring the letter up before asking about her brother’s gang. After all, that was really why he had made the trip those thousands of miles. Maybe it was just that he was a romantic after all.
As she reached for the envelope he noticed the quizzical expression on her face. Who could be writing her a letter?
“It’s from Thomas Embree,” he blurted, spoiling the surprise.
Kim’s facial muscles relaxed, and she was obviously happy with his revelation. “I will read this when I am alone. Is there a
nything else, Mister Rodrigues?” Another potential customer had wandered into her shop.
“There’s one more thing Miss Jong. I need to find out what happened to your brother’s friends. Do you have any contact with them?”
“They are gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean? Did they leave the country?”
“No, they are all dead!”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Dead! Are you sure?” Angelo felt a letdown upon hearing the news. He thought perhaps he could solve the riddle of who killed Jack Carey and framed Ivan Dunn, not to mention the slaying of that private detective Evan Castiglione. Now all of a sudden he had reached a dead-end. The killer, or killers, were still out there, as elusive as ever.
Kim thought for a second before answering, “You check with Provost Marshall, but I am sure I am right.”
As he was leaving the store he looked back in Kim’s direction. She was reading Thomas’ letter, and he was certain he detected a smile. It made her look even more beautiful.
The Provost Marshall confirmed what Kim had told him. The military command, along with civilian authorities had been concerned with the increase in the drug trade in the city. Army Intelligence had found the gang’s meeting place, and a raid was planned. As luck would have it, all the known members of the criminal organization were together when their hideout was stormed by at least twenty militia. A firefight ensued and all the offenders were killed.
There was some question about stragglers escaping, but fears were dispelled when the drug trafficking stopped altogether. Of course there would be others to pick up where the gang left off. There was too much money to be made from the illicit drugs, but for then at least, there was no activity.
Angelo was a little disheartened when he boarded his flight for the long trip back to the states, but he at least had good news to report to Thomas Embree. He was sure the flame the young soldier had ignited in Kim Jong’s heart was at least still smoldering.
Shadow of a Killer: the Dark Side of Paradise Page 10
