"Last Sunday night, after he came here to visit you.
I pulled out my ID and handed it to him. Woodruff looked at it carefully, then gave it back to me, closed the lid to his computer, and switched it off.
"Let's go downstairs, he said. "We'll talk there.
He closed and locked the hallway door behind him, put the key in his pocket, and then carried the laptop with him, stuffed under one arm like an oversized book. We had to go out on the sidewalk before we could go into the tavern. I stopped at the car long enough to retrieve my notebook, then he led the way into Davey's locker. "Beer? he asked.
It was long after hours. I was on my own time and in my own vehicle. "Sure, I said. "Why not?
Clay sat at a table just inside the door, placing the computer on the floor beside him. He signaled the bartender, holding up one finger on one hand and two fingers on the other. With a nod the bartender translated the prearranged signal into action, bringing over one large pitcher of beer along with two empty glasses and setting them on the table in front of us.
"How's it going? Clay asked.
The bartender shrugged. "Usual Friday night crowd. No problem.
Clay poured two beers, expertly filling the glasses without running the head over the top. "Tell me what happened, he said.
And so I told him some of it-Kurobashi's death, the vicious attacks on Kurobashi's wife and child-interspersing the telling with enough questions so that in the process of giving out information, I was also receiving it.
Yes, he and Tadeo had worked together at RFLink. Yes, he had been present during the patent discussion between Blakeslee and Tadeo, and when Blakeslee had refused the product, both he and Tadeo had quit outright. No, he had never received a summons to testify in Tadeo's behalf during the patent infringement trial, and yes, he would have been glad to do so had he been notified.
Woodruff told me that he had received a commission to compose an original work for the Houston Symphony, and he had been working on that night and day for months, not accepting phone calls or seeing any visitors. Maybe the subpoena had come then, he said.
Throughout the discussion, Woodruff seemed gravely concerned, particularly when I told him about what had happened to Machiko and Kimi. "Are they going to be all right?
"Machiko's already out of the hospital. She's staying with a friend of Kimi's near Pullman. Kimi's in Sacred Heart in Spokane. From what I heard today, she's doing much better, but she's a long way from being released.
"I see, he said.
"According to Mrs. Oliver, you called Mr. Kurobashi on Friday.
Woodruff nodded. "That's right.
"Why?
"I had told Tad that when I finished up with my commission, the two of us would do something together.
"What do you mean? Go fishing? Take a trip?
"No, no. We were a good team, the two of us. I knew that Tadeo was working on something, had been for years, and I wanted to market it for him. It takes three things to bring off a new product-engineering, money, and marketing.
"What new product?
Woodruff's eyes became veiled. Until then, his answers had been forthright and easily given. Now he clammed up. He covered his mouth with his hand, letting one finger rest against the side of his nose. I worked my way through college selling Fuller Brush door-to-door. I can tell when somebody stops buying. Clay Woodruff had stopped cold.
"I can't talk about it, he said.
"What do you mean you can't talk about it?
"I'm doing a favor for a friend, he replied. "Just because Tad is dead doesn't mean I won't keep my word.
I wasn't getting anywhere, so I tried a different angle. "When Mr. Kurobashi came to see you that day, did he seem upset to you?
"Upset? Hell yes, he was upset. He had lost everything, and all because I didn't testify. Then, out of the blue, I call him up and act as though we're still asshole buddies. He was pissed as hell.
"Were you? I asked.
"Was I what?
"Were you still asshole buddies?
"As far as I was concerned we were, Woodruff replied.
"Why didn't you testify then? I asked.
Woodruff drew back and looked at me. "I already told you. Because I never got called. I never got a summons. When I explained that to Tad, he understood. When I tried to reach him on Friday, I was calling in the dark. I had no idea that the judge had ruled against him and he was losing his business.
"Tell me about his state of mind that day. Did he give any hint that he was in some kind of trouble or that his life might be in danger?
"No.
"And this product that you say he was working on. Would it be something that could be of use in illegal activities, something the Mafia might have a vital interest in?
"No.
"Did you ever know Mr. Kurobashi to have any dealings with criminal types?
Once more Woodruff's eyebrows knitted together to form a solid bridge across his nose. "You're asking me if I have any knowledge of Tad being involved with organized crime?
"Yes.
Woodruff's finger moved away from his nose. He rubbed his hand thoughtfully back and forth across his jutting chin. The salesman in me recognized the gesture as a buying signal-decision time.
"Wait here, Woodruff said. "I need to go get something. Want another beer?
"Fine, I said.
Woodruff picked up the pitcher and filled both of our glasses; then, grabbing his computer from the floor, he excused himself and walked over to the bar. He spoke briefly to the bartender, then he came back to where we had been sitting.
"It's upstairs, he said. "I'll be right back.
"Take your time, I said casually, trying to conceal any show of curiosity about what he was going to get. The bartender came to the table and busily wiped off the damp rings left by the pitcher and glasses.
"So you're from Seattle, are you? he said, "Here for the weekend?
"Just tonight, I replied.
"The music starts up at nine, he offered helpfully. "Local group, R and B. Real laid back. People around here seem to like it.
"You mean you don't play Woodruff's music here in the bar?
The bartender grinned. "Oh, it gets played in here all right. Not necessarily on purpose. For instance, everybody knows that section he was working on today pretty much by heart.
"The soundproofing's not that good?
"You could say that.
My glass was partially empty, and the bartender filled it with the dregs of the pitcher before hurrying back to the bar, where someone was calling him for a refill. I sat there alone for several minutes watching the denizens of Port Angeles and Davey's Locker perform. They all knew one another, knew who was good at pool and who was lousy, who could hold their beer and who couldn't. A television set in the background was quietly playing a "Star Trek rerun to an audience of one medium-old lady with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. The place seemed as innocuous as an overgrown living room.
I drifted for a few moments, sipping the beer and contemplating what it would be like to live in a small town like this as opposed to a big city. When my glass was almost empty, though, I began to grow uneasy. It was taking Woodruff a hell of a long time to bring back whatever it was he was going to show me.
I turned and tried looking out the window, but the opaque blue glass barred any view of the street outside. I stood up, walked over to the door, opened it, and looked up and down. In either direction, the sidewalk and the wide one-way street were totally deserted. I stepped far enough out onto the sidewalk to see the windows of Woodruff's apartment above Davey's Locker. They were dark and empty, with no sign of life behind them, and when I tried the door to the stairway that led up to the Ritz Hotel, it was locked with an old-fashioned Masters padlock.
There was a sudden sinking sensation, a lurch in my stomach, telling me that somehow, for some reason, I'd been suckered. I turned toward the 928. My door was still locked, but I could see that the door on the passenger's side wasn't, even though I knew I had locked it. After all, I'm a cop. I always lock car doors.