Ames nodded, holding the phone to his ear. He was looking ahead of us toward the pay parking lot off on our right. He was the one who saw it first.
"Wait a minute, isn't that the Suburban?
I looked where he was pointing, and sure enough there in the middle of the lot sat a hulking green and white Suburban. I could see the outline of the bumper sticker even though it was too far away for me to read the words.
"I'll be damned! With that, I slammed the car door shut and started inside.
Waterfall Park, as it's called, takes up a quarter of a block. Walled in with red brick, it has a terrace with small outdoor tables, while in one corner a two-story-high waterfall drowns out the noise of city traffic with the roaring rush of flowing water. I headed for the open gate at a dead run, only to almost collide with a man in a heavy motorized wheelchair who was trying to maneuver through the same space at the same time I was.
"Sorry, the man said, but it didn't sound like a man speaking. There was a tinny, canned quality to the voice.
"My fault, I said.
I looked down at him then. He was an older man, probably well into his sixties, whose body was terribly twisted and bent. On his lap sat a computer, a laptop very much like the one I had seen Clay Woodruff using to single-handedly produce a hotel full of music in Port Angeles. Laboriously, the man pressed two keys on the computer. The voice said, "I'll go.
Just then Bernice Oliver came hurrying over. "Sorry it took so long, Clarence. All the handicapped spots were taken. She looked up at me. "Why hello, Detective Beaumont. I'd like you to meet my husband, Clarence.
The last thing I wanted to do right then was hold still for introductions, but there was no way to escape.
"We've already met, I said.
Clarence Oliver once more pushed some buttons on the computer. It wasn't an instantaneous process, because it took time for him to locate the keys with his badly crippled fingers. As soon as he did though, a motor whirred and the chair moved effortlessly through the gate. Bernice Oliver stood on the sidewalk, watching her husband's slow but smooth progress as he negotiated the corner in front of the waterfall and rolled up the walkway to where a group of people were gathered at the far end of the park.
"He did so want to come, Bernice said to me. "It's the least we could do. I don't know how we would have managed if it hadn't been for Mr. Kurobashi. It's his invention, you see.
"What's his invention?
"Why the computer, of course. Not the computer, but the program in it. You saw how it works-the voice synthesizer, moving the chair. That's all Mr. Kurobashi's doing. He did it for a lark, and wouldn't take a dime for it, either. I never would have been able to keep Clarence at home this long if it hadn't been for that. I have some help, of course. A visiting nurse comes in for a while every day, but that computer has been such a blessing. That was the worst thing about it. Losing the ability to communicate. The computer changed all that. Such a blessing, she said again, and walked away.
I stood for a moment longer, watching Bernice rejoin her husband and continue on to the others. I remembered Big Al's and my conversation when we had speculated about the cause of Mrs. Oliver's fierce loyalty to her dead boss. I had an answer to that question now, and it had absolutely nothing to do with screwing around. So Tadeo Kurobashi had done another good deed. Then what was his connection to a Mafia clan in Chicago?
The delay at the gate had broken up my headlong plunge into the park, and now I stood there a few moments longer, trying to see who was there and who wasn't. Clay Woodruff was easy to spot. He had come forward to meet the Olivers and was standing in front of them, nodding in agreement to something that had been said.
Ames appeared behind me, rushing and out of breath. "I parked the car in a lot, but I had a hell of a time doing it, he said. "What's going on down here? Almost all the spaces are full.
"What did Grant have to say?
"You're not going to believe it.
"Tell me, goddamnit.
"Christopher Davenport Senior is Aldo Pappinzino's personal attorney.
"No shit! I turned and sprinted into the park. I had gone only a few steps when George Yamamoto, seated at one of the tables on the terrace, stood up and raised his hand, motioning for silence. Almost instantly, the people grew still. Someone switched off the waterfall. Outside the confines of the tiny park, we could hear the rush of traffic which had previously been drowned out by the roaring water. From the band shell a block away came a wavering high-school-band rendition of "The Stars and Stripes Forever. Inside Waterfall Park itself, it seemed almost eerily quiet.
There was a woman dressed in black sitting at the table with George. Her back was to us, but George nodded to her before he began to speak. Even from the far corner, his voice carried throughout the park. Everyone fell silent. I had taken several more steps, but I stopped now in order to hear.
"When Tadeo and I were young, this park was nothing but an empty lot. We met here as boys, years before Minidoka. This was where we learned to play baseball, to shoot baskets. I have invited you all here today, to honor our friend. Today I have learned things about Tadeo that I never knew before, things about people he helped, things he did that he never broadcast.
"This is not a formal service, not a religious service. Tadeo was not a religious man. He was a good man. Tadeo did not want a funeral, and so no funeral was planned. This is instead a service of remembrance. His wife, Machiko, is here with us. She had not planned to come today, and many of you may never have met her. If you have a chance, and if Tadeo made a difference in your life, let her know about it. This may be your only opportunity.
He held out his hand toward the woman seated at the table and helped her to stand. She was wearing a long black silk kimono, and it wasn't until she turned to face us that I realized it was Machiko Kurobashi. She nodded to the one hundred or so people who were gathered around, then she sat back down at the table. George Yamamoto raised his hand, and the waterfall once more roared to life.
"I'll be damned, I said.
"It's a good thing you didn't bet, Ames said over my shoulder.
Once more we started toward George's table. He saw us coming and waved.
"I believe you know both these people, George said to Machiko as we got closer. She looked up at us and nodded.
Stumped for something to say, I didn't want to blurt out what Ames had just told me about Christopher Davenport. "I was worried about you, I said finally. "I didn't know you knew Mr. Woodruff.
"Didn't, she answered. "Do now. Good man.
"How is Kimi?
"Mr. Woodruff see Kimiko in Spokane today. Much better. Get well soon.
"Looks like you were just pushing panic buttons on that one, Ames whispered under his breath.
Machiko began struggling to get up. She had a new cane, a metal three-pronged one, to replace the treasured one made of gnarled wood. I took her elbow and helped her to her feet.
She smiled up at me gratefully. "I talk to people, she said.
I turned to George, and he motioned for Ames and me to sit down. "How did all this happen?
He shrugged his shoulders. "Believe me, I have no idea. This morning, when she came to my office she said she had changed her mind and wanted to come to the memorial service. I was surprised.
"Me too, I said.
I watched Machiko limp her way through the crowd, stopping now and then to speak to someone. I noticed she didn't shake hands, and she seemed to be carrying herself oddly, with one elbow stiffly bent. Her arm looked almost as though it were still in a sling although no sling was visible. I assumed that it was some lingering aftereffect of her injuries and didn't think much about it.
She stopped briefly by the Olivers. Clay Woodruff was still there, talking animatedly. Machiko listened to what he had to say with a kind of grave interest, then she went on. When she was about halfway to the waterfall, I realized that she was no longer following a random path from person to person. She was moving purposefully, with some definite goal in mind.