“No. We were all too shook up and upset. We called the police right away.”
“Did he get the package?”
Mariko glared at me. “Of course not. It’s still in the hatbox. Do you think I’m going to let a jerk like that intimidate me?”
I sighed. “I’ll go apologize to Mrs. Kawashiri as soon as she’s done with the police.”
“Apologize for what?”
“I feel like I’m the one who’s responsible for getting the shop wrecked.”
“Aside from getting the clothes dirty,” Mariko said, “he really didn’t do any permanent damage. I’m just so angry with him. I’m going to buy a nice big aluminum baseball bat and keep it under the counter there, and if that guy ever walks into this shop again, I’m going to put a dent in that bat that matches the curvature of his pointed head.”
The police finished and left the shop. I stayed to help Mariko and Mrs. Kawashiri clean up the mess. As we worked I brought both Mariko and Mrs. Kawashiri up to date on what I’d found out about the Yakuza and the value of the warranty claim forms.
Then, in Japanese fashion, I formally apologized to Mrs. Kawashiri for causing so much trouble. In an equally Japanese reaction, Mrs. Kawashiri absolutely insisted that no trouble had been caused, at least by me, and that I had no responsibility in the incident.
We both knew that I had caused trouble, and that I was in some manner responsible because it was my package that had triggered the problem. But despite the fact that both Mrs. Kawashiri and I are thoroughly Americanized in other parts of our lives, in our social interaction with other Japanese we play the complicated Japanese social ballet.
After making my apologies I said good-bye to Mariko and returned to the office. The phone was ringing when I got to the office, and I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that maybe it was Mariko calling again because something else had happened at the boutique. Instead, when I picked up the phone I was surprised to hear Rita Newly’s voice on the line.
“Don’t you have a service or answering machine?” she started, irritated.
“No, and before we continue this conversation, you’re going to give me your phone number and your address so I can contact you when it’s necessary.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she gave me a number and address in the San Fernando valley, which I wrote down on a slip of paper, along with her name.
“Now, I want my property,” Rita said.
“I think a friend of yours has already tried to get the package.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning a Caucasian man calling himself George Martin just tried to tear apart the Kawashiri Boutique here in Little Tokyo, demanding your package.”
Silence.
“I figure he must be a friend of yours. I told you the package was somewhere near my office and safe, so he probably hung around the office and followed me to the boutique. Unfortunately, that’s not where the package is,” I lied. “All he succeeded in doing was tearing up the shop and causing trouble.”
“Damn!”
“Exactly.”
“Look, Mr. Tanaka, I did have a friend of mine follow you, but he wasn’t supposed to do anything. If he did something stupid, it was completely on his own. It’s just that the package is very important to me, and I don’t want to have to trust you without knowing where it might be.” A pause. “Do you think five hundred dollars would cover whatever damage he might have done?”
“I’ll check with the owner of the boutique and call you right back at the number you’ve given me.” I figured I was being clever, checking that the phone number was valid.
“I’ll be waiting.”
I called the boutique, and Mrs. Kawashiri’s warm and friendly voice came on the line.
“Mrs. Kawashiri, I just talked to the owner of the package, and she offered to pay you five hundred dollars for the damage caused.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Isn’t it enough?”
“I don’t want the money. What I want to see is that guy in jail. He has no right to do this to my shop. He can’t make things right by just paying for the damage he’s done.”
“I understand your feelings, Mrs. Kawashiri,” I said. “But I really think you should take the money. It’s being offered by the owner of the package, not the guy who was in your shop.”
“Why?”
“Because she knows the guy. Besides, even if they do catch this guy and bring him to court, the chances of him really being seriously punished are almost nonexistent.”
“But don’t you think it’s important for people to know they can’t buy their way out of problems?” she said.
“Yes, I do. But sometimes what’s important and what actually happens are two different things.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” Mrs. Kawashiri said. “It’s not right. It’s just not right.”
“Sometimes we can’t always do what’s right in this world. Look, how about this as a compromise?” I suggested. “Why don’t you take the money to repair the damage done, but I’ll tell them that the money doesn’t absolve them of any criminal penalties which might be involved.”
Mrs. Kawashiri considered for a moment, then said, “Okay. Let’s try that. But I don’t want any more than three hundred fifty dollars. That’s what I think it will cost to clean the dresses that require it. I don’t want any more.”
“All right.”
“Thank you for your help in this, Ken-san.”
I hung up and called Rita Newly back and was almost surprised to hear her answering the phone.
“Mrs. Kawashiri only wants three hundred fifty dollars. That’s all it will take to clean the dresses. She also wants you to know that this doesn’t absolve your friend of any criminal charges.”
“She doesn’t want all the money?” Rita was incredulous.
“That’s what I said.”
“Fine. Now, how about my package?”
I checked my watch. “Well, I’m actually late for an appointment. I don’t want to be petty, but I figure you can wait until after my appointment for me to call you and settle this package thing.”
“Damn it, Mr. Tanaka. .”
I gently put the receiver back on the hook. I was stalling because I knew I was going to turn the package over to the police. Besides, I know I said I didn’t want to be petty, but I have to admit that there was a certain satisfaction in being petty, no matter what my better nature said.
On a whim, I called back to the boutique and asked Mariko if she wanted to have dinner. She told me that she was helping Mrs. Kawashiri take some of the dresses to the dry cleaners, and I immediately volunteered to help. Before leaving I took the two warranty claims out of my pocket and put them in the top drawer of the desk.
18
Mariko and I had dinner at the Ginza Gardens Coffee Shop. Then she asked me if I wanted to come to her place. “Maybe later,” I told her. “I’ve been spending so much time on real mysteries that I’m falling behind on preparing for the L.A. Mystery Club’s mystery. If I don’t start working on it, there will be more than a few club members willing to kill me. How about I go back to the office for an hour or so, then I stop by your apartment?”
“Okay, but don’t keep me waiting.”
I returned to the office, and as I unlocked the door and walked in, a voice said, “You really should get a better lock for your front door.”
I jumped from surprise and spun around. There, standing on either side of the door, were the two Asians who had scared Rita away. The small man gave me a grin, showing off some of the gold-capped teeth that festooned his mouth.
“We didn’t want to wait in the hall,” he added. “So we let ourselves in and made ourselves comfortable. The lock on your front door is ridiculously easy to open.”
“Never mind the lock on my front door, what the hell are you two doing here?” I said.
“That’s not a very warm greeting for two potential clients,” the little man said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the sign on the door says you’re a detective,” the little man answered. “And we want you to find someone for us. Rita Newly.”