"Jesus Christ, Ames! Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?
"You never asked, Ames replied. "You never told me his name.
I was already standing up, pushing aside my chair.
"Wait a minute, Ames said. "Where are you going?
"To find them, goddamnit. I still don't know which side that slippery son of a bitch is on.
CHAPTER 20
The waiter was coming toward us carrying a tray laden with our food. I nearly knocked him flat as I rushed by. How Ames managed to pay the bill and still catch up with me before I got out of Triples' parking lot, I'll never know. "I'm coming too, he said, climbing into the car. "Where are we going?
"The Four Seasons, I said. "Maybe they're still there.
But of course Woodruff and Machiko weren't there, or if they were, we couldn't find them.
"What now? Ames asked.
"I don't know, I told him.
We went back down the escalator to the hotel's University Street entrance with its brass and glass doors and circular drive. Beside the door a uniformed doorman and three parking attendants were involved in an earnest conversation about the afternoon's University of Washington football game in Husky Stadium.
"Did any of you happen to notice a wild-looking man come in here in the last few hours? He looks like an unreconstituted hippie-mid-thirties, long brown hair, some gray, wears it in a ponytail. He's a friend of mine. I need to find him.
One of the parking attendants nodded. "You mean the guy in the big green station wagon? Sure, I saw him. He was here, but then he left. Had a little old lady with him.
My stomach turned sour as a solid knot of fear grew in my gut. Woodruff had Machiko, and he had taken her someplace with him. That meant he probably had the sword as well.
"What kind of little old lady? I asked, more out of habit than anything else. I already knew the answer.
"Tiny. Japanese, I'd say.
The parking attendant was basking at being the center of attention. He went on with his story. "When she went to get into the Suburban, it was too tall for her. The guy had a little stool in the backseat. A footstool. She used that.
"Did you say Suburban? I asked. "A green Suburban?
The attendant grinned. "That's right. With a bumper sticker that said, ‘Have you hugged your horse today?'
Two limos filled with members of an arriving wedding party drove into the driveway. The doorman and attendants left off their conversation to go to work.
"I'm a son of a bitch, I said. "What the hell is Clay Woodruff doing driving Kimiko's car, and how the hell did he get it?
Leaving Ames standing there, I hurried back to the car, punched a number into the phone, and dialed the department. Once I was connected, I asked to speak to the traffic supervisor. "This is Detective Beaumont from homicide. Who's this?
"Captain Donovan. What can I do for you, Beaumont? he asked cheerfully.
"I need to have people on the lookout for an old white-over-green Suburban with a bumper sticker that says ‘Have you hugged your horse today?'
"How about a license number instead of a bumper sticker? Donovan asked. "We prefer 'em, actually.
About that time, I didn't need a stand-up comedian. "I don't have a damn license number. The vehicle is registered to a Kimiko Kurobashi who lives over near Colfax. If you can get the number, more power to you.
"So what do you want us to do if somebody sees it? Donovan asked. "Detain it? Blow it up?
"No, call me on my car phone, and let me know where they are. I don't want to spook this guy into doing something crazy. He's got a woman with him, an old woman. I wouldn't want anything to happen to her.
For the first time all trace of humor went out of Donovan's voice. "This sounds serious, Beaumont, like maybe it ought to be going out on an APB.
"No. No APB. Keep it low profile.
"If anything goes wrong, Beaumont, it's your ass not mine.
"Right, I said. "That's not news. And something else. Have someone search along the Burlington Northern track around Industry Square to see if they can locate some fifty-gallon trash bags filled with confetti.
"As in New Year's Eve? Donovan asked.
Donovan is one of those people who couldn't get serious to save his life. "As in from a shredder, I growled.
"Okay, okay, Beaumont. We'll look into it.
I put the phone back in its holder, and then sat there without moving. The engine was running and my hands were on the steering wheel, but I didn't know where I was going. Ames climbed in beside me.
"Goddamnit, Ames, this case is driving me crazy! We've got a damn suspect in jail in Chicago, but it's not even our case. For the life of me, I can't see any Chicago connection back to Tadeo Kurobashi.
"Chris Davenport is from Chicago, Ralph Ames said quietly.
"He is? How'd you find that out? I asked.
"At his office this morning with Machiko. His diplomas are on the wall. Northwestern and Loyola are both Chicago schools.
That took me back a step or two. Why hadn't I made the connection? "Davenport's from Chicago? But then, all kinds of folks are from Chicago. It's not against the law to leave there, you know. People do it all the time.
"His kind of lawyering ought to be against the law, Ames declared grimly. "We have first-year summer interns who do better jobs than he's done for the Kurobashis.
I shifted into gear and started into traffic.
"Where to now? Ames asked.
"Maybe he's still at his office. I want to have a little chat with him.
Ames glanced at his watch. It was 3:35. "I doubt he's still there, he said. "By now he's probably on his way to the memorial service.
"He's going?
"That's what he told Machiko this morning when she asked him about it. Davenport said he was planning to attend.
I had merged onto University and made a dash for the left lane in order to turn north on Fourth and head over to 1201 Third. Now, with a glance in the mirror, I jumped the green light and headed for a right-hand turn onto Fifth instead.
"God damn you, Ames, you're one closemouthed bastard. What the hell else do you know that I ought to know?
"Maybe the memorial service is where Machiko is going, too.
"That's where you're dead wrong. She wouldn't go there on a bet.
"How much? Ames asked.
"How much what?
"How much do you want to bet? As we were leaving Davenport's office, when Machiko asked him if he was going to the memorial service and he said probably, she said she'd see him there.
"I'll be damned, I said.
I was a man putting together a jigsaw puzzle in the middle of an earthquake, with pieces falling off the table in all directions. Important pieces. Corner pieces. Machiko Kurobashi, who had been dead set against holding any kind of memorial service, was now planning to attend one organized by her sworn enemy. And my friend, old Aimless Ames, had been sitting on a ton of information like a great big bird without feeding me any of it. Maybe Davenport was the Chicago connection. Maybe it wasn't Kurobashi at all. I fumbled in my pocket and got out the notebook where I had written down Alvin Grant's home number.
"Call this guy at home. Have his wife wake him up if you have to. Tell him I need to know if he's ever heard of anyone named Christopher Davenport.
Darting in and out of traffic, I turned down the hill on Yesler and raced across the north/south arterials on a series of yellow lights. If my driving scared him, Ralph Ames didn't say anything about it. He had picked up the cellular phone and was punching numbers into it.
When I reached the corner of Main and Occidental, I discovered that the whole half block along Main was reserved for fire department vehicles only. I parked there anyway, leaving the motor running and the flashers on.
Someone was just answering Alvin Grant's phone. "When you get done, park this thing, will you?