"He is taking pictures."
"He can't do that."
Ishiguro said, "But this is for our corporate use."
I said, "I don't care, Mr. Ishiguro. He can't be inside the yellow tape, and he can't take pictures. Get him out of there. And I want his film, please."
"Very well." Ishiguro said something quickly in Japanese. I turned, just in time to see Tanaka slip under the yellow tape, and disappear among the blue-suited men clustered by the elevator. Behind their heads, I saw the elevator doors open and close.
Son of a bitch. I was getting angry. "Mr. Ishiguro, you are now obstructing an official police investigation."
Ishiguro said calmly, "You must try to understand our position, Detective Smith. Of course we have complete confidence in the Los Angeles Police Department, but we must be able to undertake our own private inquiry, and for that we must have– "
Their own private inquiry?The son of a bitch. I suddenly couldn't speak. I clenched my teeth, seeing red. I was furious. I wanted to arrest Ishiguro. I wanted to spin him around, shove him up against the wall, and snap the cuffs around his fucking wrists and—
"Perhaps I can be of assistance, Lieutenant," a voice behind me said.
I turned. It was John Connor, smiling cheerfully. I stepped aside.
Connor faced Ishiguro, bowed slightly, and presented his card. He spoke rapidly. "Totsuzen shitsurei desuga, jiko-shokai wo shitemo yoroshii desuka. Watashi wa John Connor to moshimasu. Meishi o dozo. Dozo yoroshiku."
"John Connor?" Ishiguro said. "TheJohn Connor? Omeni kakarete koei desu. Watashi wa Ishiguro desu. Dozo yoroshiku." He was saying he was honored to meet him.
"Watashi no meishi desu. Dozo." A graceful thank you.
But once the formalities were completed, the conversation went so quickly I caught only an occasional word. I was obliged to appear interested, watching and nodding, when in fact I had no idea what they were talking about. Once I heard Connor refer to me as wakaimono, which I knew meant his protege or apprentice. Several times, he looked at me severely, and shook his head like a regretful father. It seemed he was apologizing for me. I also heard him refer to Graham as bushitsuke, a disagreeable man.
But these apologies had their effect. Ishiguro calmed down, dropping his shoulders. He began to relax. He even smiled. Finally he said, "Then you will not check identification of our guests?"
"Absolutely not," Connor said. "Your honored guests are free to come and go as they wish."
I started to protest. Connor shot me a look.
"Identification is unnecessary," Connor continued, speaking formally, "because I am sure that no guest of the Nakamoto Corporation could ever be involved in such an unfortunate incident."
"Fucking A," Graham said, under his breath.
Ishiguro was beaming. But I was furious. Connor had contradicted me. He had made me look like a fool. And on top of that, he wasn't following police procedure – we could all be in trouble for that later on. Angrily, I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked away.
"I am grateful for your delicate handling of this situation, Captain Connor," Ishiguro said.
"I have done nothing at all," Connor replied, making another formal bow. "But I hope you will now agree it is appropriate to clear the floor, so the police may begin their investigation."
Ishiguro blinked. "Clear the floor?"
"Yes," Connor said, taking out a notebook. "And please assist me to know the names of the gentlemen standing behind you, as you ask them to leave."
"I am sorry?"
"The names of the gentlemen behind you, please."
"May I ask why?"
Connor's face darkened, and he barked a short phrase in Japanese. I didn't catch the words, but Ishiguro turned bright red.
"Excuse me, Captain, but I see no reason for you to speak in this– "
And then, Connor lost his temper. Spectacularly and explosively. He moved close to Ishiguro, making sharp stabbing motions with his finger while he shouted: "Iikagen ni shiro! Soko o doke! Kiiterunoka!"
Ishiguro ducked and turned away, stunned by this verbal assault.
Connor leaned over him, his voice hard and sarcastic: "Doke! Doke! Wakaranainoka?" He turned, and pointed furiously toward the Japanese men by the elevator. Confronted with Connor's naked anger, the Japanese looked away, and puffed anxiously on their cigarettes. But they did not leave.
"Hey, Richie," Connor said, calling to the crime unit photographer Richie Walters. "Get me some IDs of these guys, will you?"
"Sure, Captain," Richie said. He raised his camera and began moving down the line of men, firing his strobe in quick succession.
Ishiguro suddenly got excited, stepping in front of the camera, holding up his hands. "Wait a minute, wait a minute, what is this?"
But the Japanese men were already leaving, wheeling away like a school of fish from the strobe flash. In a few seconds they were gone. We had the floor to ourselves. Alone, Ishiguro looked uncomfortable.
He said something in Japanese. Apparently it was the wrong thing.
"Oh?" Connor said. "Youare to blame here," he said to Ishiguro. "Youare the cause of all these troubles. And youwill see that my detectives get any assistance they need. I want to speak to the person who discovered the body, and the person who called in the original report. I want the name of every person who has been on this floor since the body was discovered. And I want the film from Tanaka's camera. Ore wa honkida. I will arrest you if you obstruct this investigation further."
"But I must consult my superiors– "
"Namerunayo." Connor leaned close. "Don't fuck with me, Ishiguro-san. Now leave, and let us work."
"Of course, Captain," he said. With a tight, brief bow he left, his face pinched and unhappy.
Graham chuckled. "You told him off pretty good."
Connor spun. "What were you doing, telling him you were going to interrogate everybody at the party?"
"Aw, shit, I was just winding him up," Graham said. "There's no way I'm going to interrogate the mayor. Can I help it if these assholes have no sense of humor?"
"They have a sense of humor," Connor said. "And the joke is on you. Because Ishiguro had a problem, and he solved it with your help."
"Myhelp?" Graham was frowning. "What're you talking about?"
"It's clear the Japanese wanted to delay the investigation," Connor said. "Your aggressive tactics gave them the perfect excuse – to call for the Special Services liaison."
"Oh, come on," Graham said. "For all they know, the liaison could have been here in five minutes."
Connor shook his head. "Don't kid yourself: they knew exactly who was on call tonight. They knew exactly how far away Smith would be, and exactly how long it would take him to get here. And they managed to delay the investigation an hour and a half. Nice work, detective."
Graham stared at Connor for a long moment. Then he turned away. "Fuck," he said. "That's a load of bullshit, and you know it. Fellas, I'm going to work. Richie? Mount up. You got thirty seconds to document before my guys come in and step on your tail. Let's go, everybody. I want to get finished before she starts to smell too bad."