Toward Night's End

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Toward Night's End Page 17

by M. H. Sargent


  “Jesus, Mary and God, lad.” The voice had an Irish hint.

  Matthew knew it was Kite. He finally caught his breath and righted himself. Now all he wanted was his cot. Kite seemed to instinctively know this and put Matthew’s right arm over his shoulder as he helped him to the companionway.

  “Jesus, lad, what were you thinking?”

  “Fresh air,” Matthew croaked.

  “You’re not ready, lad, trust me.”

  Matthew actually gave him a small smile. “Felt good.”

  “For a minute, yes.”

  They approached the ladder and Kite tightly gripped Matthew who leaned on the handrail.

  “Sorry,” Matthew said.

  “Sorry you ran into Tollseller.” He could see Matthew’s puzzled expression and added, “Our captain.”

  “He thinks I’m a spy,” Matthew said weakly.

  “Nah, we’re just behind schedule, that’s all.”

  “He said we dock in another day,” Matthew managed. They were finally down the ladder, and he knew it was just a few more steps, then he could finally lie down. “I have to be off.”

  “I’ll take care of you, lad, not to worry.”

  “I have no money—”

  “I said I’ll take care of it. Not to worry.”

  Kite opened the door to the sick bay, and Matthew shuffled over to the cot, collapsing on it. He was sweating profusely. He closed his eyes, dismayed by how weak he was. How the hell would he ever make it off the ship?

  As if reading his thoughts, Kite said, “You need to get some solid food in you. Your strength will come back.”

  Matthew opened his eyes and looked at Kite, but he was too tired to answer. He gave a slight nod and closed his eyes.

  Manzanar War Relocation Center, Owens Valley, California. April 7, 1942

  “Black eyes, you can see the swelling. Nothing broken, fortunately. Well, no bones broken, I should say. Performed a closed reduction when he was first brought in.”

  “Closed reduction?” Johnstone repeated.

  “Fixed his broken nose,” Commander Merrick explained.

  The doctor looked at the JAG officer and said, “I take it you have personal experience with this?”

  “My lieutenant did, some time ago. I remember the term, is all.”

  “So, what happened?” Johnstone asked. “You said a fight broke out.”

  The doctor nodded. He glanced toward Daniel, but the boy had his eyes closed and had no idea the three men were watching him. “He won’t discuss it, and neither will his family. But one of my nurses says the family’s been ostracized.”

  Johnstone wasn’t surprised. Mrs. Kobata didn’t mention it to them, and she probably never would. She was stoic, if nothing else. He glanced at Matthew’s brother. His entire face various colors of black, blue and burnt orange. “He obviously got the worst of it. Any adults in the fight?”

  The doctor shook his head. “All kids. He got the winning run in a baseball game. Slid home, I guess, and then the catcher and some others piled on. From what I heard, his coach pulled everyone off.”

  “It’s important we talk to him,” Merrick said, nodding toward Daniel.

  “I’m fine with that. He has a concussion…” He saw Merrick frown and clarified, saying, “Minor brain injury. From the beating. It can cause some memory loss, so just as a warning, if he seems vague or evasive, it may be that he truly doesn’t remember.”

  Johnstone nodded. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  The doctor was about to leave, then said, “This about the brother?”

  Johnstone and Merrick exchanged glances. “What have you heard?” Johnstone asked. “About the brother?”

  “My nurse did. The one that got the story on the fight. I guess his older brother ran away. Some here think it’s because he’s sided with Imperialist Japan. They say it’s people like his brother that put them all here. And I can tell you, no one likes it here.”

  “No, I don’t imagine they do,” Johnstone agreed quietly.

  “Do me a favor, Detective?” the doctor asked. When Johnstone turned to him, he said, “Find the brother. If what my nurse says is right, the whole family will end up in here sooner or later.” With that, the doctor left.

  ***

  “I hate him..! I hate him..!”

  “Shh. I’ll have no talk like that,” Kumiko firmly stated. “Hush.”

  Julia sniffled a bit, tears still coming down her cheeks. Kumiko had come back to the mess hall if only to keep herself busy. She had been surprised when one of the other cooks called to her, motioning to a table at the far end of the empty mess hall. Ido and her daughter sat together.

  Kumiko looked to Ido sitting across from her. He looked gaunt. She knew he was not eating well. He hadn’t ever since they had been imprisoned here. Yesterday they had received a letter from the neighbor girl, her handwriting quite neat considering her age. Kumiko had read it aloud. Osco, the cat, was doing well, but still wouldn’t come inside the Thorne house. Still too timid. But he was eating well, and the girl even found he had caught a small mouse. Kumiko had thought hearing of Osco might cheer him, but he hadn’t said a word after she read the letter. Not one word.

  As if he could sense his daughter-in-law’s eyes on him, he said softly, “I tell Julia, Matthew gone off to war. He’ll be okay. We will win the war, they will let us go, and you wait, Matthew will come home.”

  She had quite a few arguments against this theory, but she didn’t voice them. There was no point.

  “I was very careful with the eggs, Mama. I never broke one,” Julia stated.

  “I know,” Kumiko said. “I know.”

  She looked to her mother. “Can you talk to Mr. Oshiro, Mama? He’ll listen to you.”

  “I’ll see,” Kumiko offered. But the truth was, there was very little point talking to people like Mr. Oshiro. She turned to Ido. “Papa,” she said delicately. “An Army officer asked me if we had a tractor at home.”

  “What?” Ido asked.

  “A tractor. I told him, no we didn’t have one. He asked if we were getting one. I said, no.” She hesitated then asked, “Why would he ask something like that?”

  “Because of Matthew,” Julia blurted out.

  “No, no,” Kumiko scoffed, patting her daughter on the hand.

  “He was drawing one. I saw it,” Julia argued.

  Kumiko glanced at Ido. She could tell from his expression that this was news to him too.

  “I had gone looking for paper,” Julia went on. “I took his notebook. I saw it. When he found that I had taken it, he wasn’t happy with me. Said I had to ask first, but I told him he was fishing, so how I could ask? And I wanted paper. He got all upset.”

  “Where was this notebook, Julia?” Ido asked sternly.

  “In his room. Bottom of his desk drawer. Daniel uses the other drawers, but Matthew puts his things in the bottom drawer.”

  Ido looked to Kumiko as if he could see her. “The Army has been in the house. Our house,” he said with anger.

  Kumiko knew he was right. The thought of strangers in their house made her shudder.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Manzanar War Relocation Center, Owens Valley, California. April 7, 1942

  Once Merrick and Johnstone learned that Daniel shared his bedroom at home with Matthew, they figured he must know. He did. He confirmed the tattoo, telling them that Matthew said it was a mistake. And that it hurt quite a bit. Which it would, if it had gotten infected.

  “Did he say why he got it?” Johnstone asked, standing beside Daniel’s bed, holding the file at his side.

  Daniel shrugged. “Said he was with some friends. They all did it.”

  “His friend, Tom?” Johnstone asked, even though he knew Tom didn’t have any tattoos.

  “No, I don’t know.”

  “It would really help,” Commander Merrick said, standing on the other side of the bed.

  Another shrug. “My brother doesn’t have a lot of friends. Just Tom, really.”r />
  Johnstone removed the picture of Carsteen from the file. “You know who this man is, Daniel?”

  Daniel took the photo with his right hand. “I don’t know his name.”

  Merrick and Johnstone exchanged surprised looks. “But you’ve seen him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “With Matthew?” Merrick asked.

  Daniel gave him a baffled look. “Matthew didn’t want me talking to him.”

  Another glance between the detective and JAG officer. Merrick said evenly, “Why is that? That Matthew didn’t like this man?”

  Daniel shrugged, handing the photo back to Johnstone. “I don’t know. That man was pretty close to our place. Walking?” Johnstone nodded. “He saw me. I was heading home after school. Said he was lost. So I helped him.”

  “You remember where he was going?” Johnstone asked.

  “Old Man Pete’s.”

  “Who is that?” Merrick inquired.

  Daniel shrugged once more. “Just Old Man Pete.”

  “Where does he live, Daniel?” Johnstone asked.

  “About half a mile from us. East.”

  “You know his last name?”

  “I don’t think he has one,” Daniel replied.

  Johnstone knew the man had a surname. But he wasn’t too worried about not knowing that right now. How hard would it be to find the man? “What does he do? Is he a fisherman, like your brother?”

  “He has a strawberry farm,” Daniel answered. “Like my grandfather. Well, a lot bigger than my grandfather’s, really.”

  “I see,” Johnstone said. “And why was Matthew upset that you gave him directions to Old Man Pete’s house?”

  “He saw me talking to him. When I got home, he asked why was I talking to that man. Said I shouldn’t talk to him. I asked why, but he didn’t answer. He just said I shouldn’t talk to the man.”

  “You remember when this was?” Merrick asked.

  Daniel frowned in thought. “Close to Halloween. I remember we did our Jack O’Lantern later that day. Julia and me. My sister. Matthew wasn’t there. I don’t think he would have cared anyway.” He saw Johnstone’s puzzled look and added, “About carving Jack O’Lanterns.”

  Pacific Ocean, 84 Miles Southwest of San Francisco, California. April 7, 1942

  “Aye, Captain?” Kite said, peeking his head into the ship’s bridge.

  “Come in,” Captain Tollseller replied, both hands on the large wheel.

  Kite entered and saw the first mate at a nearby table, hunched over a chart.

  The captain looked at his ship’s cook. “How’s your patient?”

  “Sleeping.” Kite could see his captain wanted more information, so he added, “Fever broke, so he’s through the worst of it. But he’s weak as a cow on the moon.”

  This got a chuckle from the first mate who said to Kite, “A cow on the moon, eh?”

  Kite grinned. “My old man always said that. If you were down and out, you were like a cow on the moon.”

  “You know what I worry about, Kite?” the captain interrupted, all business.

  “Sir?”

  “I worry that he’s one of them. Come here for no good and—”

  “Captain, the man speaks English better than I do.” Another stifled laugh from the first mate. “He’s not off a Japanese ship, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “A sub, Kite. A sub.”

  Kite glanced from the captain to the first mate, then back to his captain. “Captain, I don’t think there are subs out here.”

  “Really, Kite? You know that?”

  Realizing his stupid error, he said contritely, “No, sir. Of course not. Sorry, sir.”

  “The point is, we don’t know. And if we weren’t so late, being slammed by that storm, I’d have half a mind to take him ashore. Let the authorities figure it out.”

  Kite swallowed hard. He knew there was no sense arguing. For some reason, he liked the young lad. But he had no basis for saying what should happen to the lad, either. “I understand, sir. We’ll be in port tomorrow, eh? We can send him on his way then.”

  “I’ve made some inquires, Kite,” the captain said gazing out to sea. “Just so you know. I don’t want this coming back at me. Helping a man adrift, fine. Helping a Japanese man of unknown origin, well, as I said, I’m working on finding out what I can. We’ll see what turns up.”

  “I’m sure he is who he says he is, sir.”

  “I hope so, Kite. I hope so. If not and someone wants him, the Army, then you realize what would happen?” Before Kite could respond, the captain went on, saying, “Then we’re told to heave to. The Coast Guard would take him and that means we lose valuable time.” He turned to face Kite. “I don’t want to be any later than we already are, understand?”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Captain Tollseller nodded. “Better get on with our supper, Kite. I’m already hungry.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Kite replied, quickly making his way off the bridge.

  Manzanar War Relocation Center, Owens Valley, California. April 7, 1942

  “Mind if I join you for a minute?”

  Johnstone and Merrick, finished with their late supper at the camp staff mess hall, looked up with surprise to see a young woman in a nurse’s uniform standing at the end of their long table. She didn’t have a tray of food, only a cup of coffee in one hand.

  “Please,” Commander Merrick said. “By all means. We’re all in favor of nurses joining us.” He slid over on the bench and she sat down next to him, opposite Johnstone. “I’m Commander Merrick.” He nodded to Johnstone. “Mr. Johnstone, Seattle police.”

  “Betty Clanton. But I’m not a nurse. Not yet, anyway.” She saw the baffled looks and explained, “We get our degrees faster if we agree to come here to work. And it’s great training. We see just about everything.”

  “Where are you from?” Johnstone asked.

  “Redmond.”

  “That so?” Johnstone replied, surprised. Redmond was very close to Seattle. He had noticed her striking auburn hair and green eyes, yet he now realized she probably wouldn’t quite be described as a beauty. However, in his eyes, she was quite attractive. “Not hungry?”

  “I’ve eaten, thank you.” She sat quietly for a moment, then said, “And I know who you are.” She saw their rather surprised looks and laughed. “Well, not your names. But we don’t get a lot of Navy commanders and police detectives here.” She glanced at Johnstone. “I heard you were from Seattle, and that’s practically home to me.”

  “You’ve made an impression,” Merrick quipped to Johnstone.

  Betty looked a bit embarrassed and covered it by glancing at the two other men at the end of their long table. Not talking. Nor paying any attention to them. Then she said quietly, “I know why you’re here and—”

  “And why is that?” Johnstone questioned, his voice harsher than need be.

  “There is a man missing. That should be here. In the camp.” She continued, adding quickly, “I just thought I should pass something on.”

  “Okay,” Johnstone said, trying to keep his tone lighter. “Please do.”

  “Today a mother brought in her young son. Both have terrible finger injuries.” She stopped as Merrick and Johnstone exchanged looks. “We were in the first aid area of the hospital?”

  She said it as more of a question than a statement, so Johnstone nodded and said, “Off to the left when you come through the front doors.” He remembered seeing the area. There were no curtains, so no privacy for anyone seeking treatment.

  Betty nodded. “Exactly. There were two women, actually. The mother and the boy and an older woman.”

  “Probably the grandmother,” Merrick said.

  Betty nodded. “That’s what I thought. All I know is that she was watching me very carefully. Maybe she’s a nurse. I don’t know.”

  Johnstone raised an eyebrow. “Can you describe her, please?”

  “Well, older. Gray hair. And the most beautiful red silk scarf. Just gorge
ous.” She suddenly seemed embarrassed by the description. “Sorry, it was just so beautiful.”

  “No, no, that’s fine,” Johnstone said encouraging. “Wearing it over one shoulder?”

  “Yes!” Betty exclaimed. “How’d you know that?”

  Johnstone noticed Merrick give him a surprised look too, and waved them both off with a hand, saying, “Go on, please.”

  “They came in because the boy had his finger cut, I mean it was cut right off. The tip,” Betty noticed the men exchange glances and quickly went on. “Not here. It didn’t happen here. But now it’s starting to get infected.”

  “You treated him?” Johnstone asked.

  “Well, a doctor has to supervise. But yes, he told me to redress it. The stitches are holding. I had to clean it real well, put iodine on it, then redress it. And the boy will have to take some antibiotics. For the infection.”

  Johnstone nodded. “Go on,” he repeated.

  Betty shrugged. “It was just so very odd. See, I took off the old bandage. Got it clean and got some iodine on the wound. He can speak perfect English, so I was explaining everything. You see, I wanted to make him comfortable. I asked him how it happened. The injury.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He wouldn’t answer.”

  Johnstone shrugged. “Not sure that’s so odd. In their culture—”

  “No, no,” Betty interrupted. “It wasn’t that. I got out the dressing to put a new bandage on and then you gentlemen walked past.” She waited a moment, then said, “And the boy, oh my, he was just so upset. He screamed something in Japanese, then he just took off. His mother was frantically calling after him, but he was gone. I mean, gone.”

  Again, Johnstone and Merrick exchanged looks. She went on, explaining, “And the older woman? She was also very upset. She stared and stared.” Betty actually shuddered. “As if looks could kill. Then she left too.”

  “The boy ever come back?” Merrick asked. “Later? Get his hand looked at?”

  “Not when I was on duty,” Betty said. “I’m off at three this week. So maybe he came back, but he was just so upset.” She gave a sheepish shrug. “I just thought it was very strange and I should pass it along, like I said. Since he had such a reaction like that.”

 

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