“What’s wrong, Billy?”
“Have you seen Deanna?” I glanced around, hoping to see her at any moment, trying not to think of the worst.
“No,” he said. “We were supposed to meet here a half hour ago. Are you looking for her?”
“You said you were taking her to lunch, Jack, not meeting her,” I said. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Jack said, backing up a step in the face of my barely contained anger. “She said she had to do something first, and we arranged to meet here.”
“Do what first?”
“I told her it was crazy,” Jack said. “But she insisted on talking to one of the Chang sisters.”
“What do you mean, crazy?”
“She said either Rui or Jai-li would do, but I figured she was going to have it out with Rui. I told her to relax, that it was no big deal.”
“Jesus, Jack,” I said as I slammed my fist on the railing. “This wasn’t about you catting around. Is that why you didn’t bring her yourself? So you could avoid what you thought would be an uncomfortable scene?”
“Well, yeah, Billy. Who would want to get in the middle of that? We had a few words about it and then decided to meet up separately. It’s not the end of the world, you know.”
“Jack, get it through your thick skull. It wasn’t about you, you self-centered bastard!”
“I don’t have to listen to this, Billy,” he said, stepping around me.
“Yes you do,” I said, and pushed him back against the railing. He stumbled and barely righted himself, avoiding falling flat on his ass by grabbing the rail and pulling himself up. It had been like pushing against a bag of bones. I grabbed his arm to help him up and was struck by how little muscle there was. Jack was positively gaunt, the extent of his weight loss hidden by baggy khakis. He shook off my hand, his eyes filled with smoldering resentment. “Sorry,” I said. I knew his back was a constant worry, and he didn’t need to injure it again in a shoving contest with me.
“Forget it,” he said, leaning on the railing and looking out across the harbor, and not at me. “So what the hell is this about?”
“I just heard that Daniel Tamana spoke to Deanna on the day he was killed. It was at Sexton’s place, and they were seen whispering about something out on the verandah.”
“Do you think Daniel told her why he was looking for Sam Chang?” Jack asked.
“No way to know for sure, but there has to be a connection. She came from Vella Lavella, like Sam. Sam gets killed, and maybe Deanna put two and two together. That’s why she said either of the Chang sisters would do for her purposes. My guess is she wanted to talk to them about what Daniel said. It probably didn’t register as important until she heard Sam Chang had been murdered.”
“Why not tell me, or you, for that matter?”
“She might have told you, Jack, if you hadn’t jumped to conclusions. I don’t know why she didn’t come to me first; maybe she planned to if she found anything out. She’s not exactly a wallflower.”
“That’s for sure,” Jack said. “Most women get jewelry from their admirers. Deanna got a carbine. Let’s look for her, okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. He nodded, and with that, our dockside tiff was forgotten. It was easy for Jack. Most things rolled off his shoulders. Easy for me, too, when it was penny-ante stuff. “Do you know how she got here?”
“She said Archer and Gordie were going over to Sesapi, and she’d hitch a ride with them,” Jack said as we strode along the wharf.
“They were both there when she and Daniel spoke,” I said. “Along with Sexton and John Kari. I don’t think Porter was around at that point.”
“Any of them could have mentioned it to half a dozen people, as Sexton did to you,” Jack said. “You really think she’s in danger, don’t you?”
“Let’s hope she’s having tea and lost track of time,” I said. “Where’s Rui’s house? We can start there.”
Jack led the way onto the main thoroughfare. Shops and bars ran along the water side, with an array of houses higher up on the hill, overlooking the harbor. Narrow lanes branched off the main road, packed with neat little abodes shaded by palm trees. A pleasant-looking town, at least now that it wasn’t under Japanese occupation. We walked past shops and a couple of bars. Most of the signs were in Chinese, but one read beer, which said it all to the sailors who drifted in and out. The next bar sported half a dozen Chinese girls in low-cut dresses, which of course attracted even more noisy sailors.
A few ancient trucks puttered down the road, their bodies showing more rust than paint. One was filled with small, squealing pigs, another with a load of coconut logs that threatened to finish off what struts were left. A sailor driving a truck behind them, probably bound for Sesapi, was in no hurry, but a jeep zipped out of line, gunned the engine, and passed them all.
It was John Kari. No reason why he shouldn’t be in a hurry, but it still made me nervous.
“Up there,” Jack said. Ahead was a well-kept house with the standard wide verandah, the clapboards painted in a pale blue pastel that almost made you feel a cool breeze. We hurried down the street but stopped short to check on the raised voices not far behind us.
A knot of people had gathered in front of a bar, its corrugated iron walls streaked with rust. There was a lot of excited yelling and a panicked waving of arms. It took a second to realize it was directed at us. Jack and I turned and trotted over, a Chinese guy detaching himself from the group and waving us on.
“A woman dead,” he said. “White lady.” He looked to the alleyway between the bar and the next building, a dilapidated storehouse with crates of fruit and vegetables spilling out onto the sidewalk. Music from an ancient gramophone set up near the open windows echoed a scratchy tune from inside the bar. Sweat chilled my spine and I could feel the fear in my face: hot skin, short breaths, and an empty feeling behind my eyes. The classic symptoms of a cop steeling himself to see what he doesn’t want to, but knows he must.
“Wait here, Jack,” I said, my hand on his shoulder. The music stopped as someone lifted the needle off the record, the dance tune silenced with a harsh scratch.
“It’s okay, Billy, I can take it. She could be alive, right?”
“I know you could, Jack,” I said. As for the chances that this was another white woman or that Deanna was still among the living, I didn’t say. “But you need to stay here.”
He shook off the hand resting on his bony shoulder. He got it. No reason to allow a suspect near the murder victim. He didn’t like it much. I didn’t care.
I pushed through the crowd, telling people who likely didn’t understand English to leave the scene. The alleyway was narrow and dark, only about three feet wide. The first thing I saw was her feet. The rest of her was buried under a pile of rotten sweet potatoes. Flimsy crates lay broken on the ground, and it made sense to me that the killer forced her into the alley and knocked the crates over, covering most of her corpse. A rush job.
I wasn’t in a hurry.
I picked up the sweet potatoes, most of them covered in a dusting of mold that left my fingers covered in a grey, musty mess. I uncovered a blue polka-dot skirt, then a white blouse stained red just below her left breast.
I gently removed the last of the remaining debris from her neck and face. Her throat was bruised. Not heavy bruising like Sam Chang’s, but the imprint of a single hand could be seen. Thumb mark on the right side, finger marks on the left. The killer used the knife in his right hand. It was easy to imagine the scene. The two of them walking along, the gentleman on the street side. He sees his chance amidst the frantic hustle and bustle and shoves her into the alley, his hand on her throat, keeping her from screaming. Then a knife thrust, between the fourth and fifth ribs from the look of it. Not a lot of blood. What bleeding she did was probably internal, until the violated heart stopped beating. It would have taken seconds.