head.
Renna snapped out of his reverie. “What you’re telling me is the kanji’s so rare, chances of its being at the crime scene accidentally are about as good as my waking up next to Miss Universe?”
“Or Mister Universe.”
“So what’s the name of this place again?”
“Soga-jujo. I checked the map. It’s a small farming village in a little isolated river valley. We’re talking real backwoods, Frank. Good old boys. One or two surnames. Radish and rice growers for centuries. Probably twenty, thirty generations. You could go out there and film Deliverance Two. ”
Renna made a decision. “Send your man. The city will pay. Any way I can get a handle on this thing works for me.”
This is where I drew the line. I wouldn’t jeopardize our friendship over a conflict of interest, and in accepting Hara’s case, that was exactly what I had. Having access to the Japanese mogul gave me a handle onthe case I didn’t want to relinquish if it wasn’t necessary. Renna would see that too. But it was still a conflict.
“The city won’t have to foot the bill,” I said. “Katsuyuki Hara came to see me. Wants me to work the case. Turns out he’s the grandfather of the kids.”
Renna’s head snapped up. “The telecom guy? You?”
“Yep.”
“You say the word, I’ll dump him.”
We were silent. In the squadroom, the three detectives were now at their desks, working the phones. Pinned to a bulletin board on the far wall were a rotation roster, a pair of wanted posters, and under a CRIMINAL OF THE WEEK sign, a photograph of the mayor, his eyes masked with a black bar of kraft paper. As I gazed out on the scene, I wondered how far my friendship with Renna could stretch under the strain of the case. With his career on the line, he would have to wend his way through the labyrinth of city and police politics with caution.
Renna leaned forward. “Hang on to Hara, but you clear everything out of this office with me first.”
“Hara wants results, not details, so he won’t be a problem. But I’ll need to brief my boys in Tokyo. It’s the only way they can work.”
Furrows creased the lieutenant’s brow. “Okay, but keep it in-house.”
“Done. Can you hold off City Hall?”
“No telling, but at the moment they need me more than I need them.”
“And if that changes?”
Renna’s whole career rested with the SFPD. The alternatives were not appealing.
“Without results? The boot downstairs or worse. That happens, you can bet the mayor will act. Have you met him?”
“No.”
“You’re about to.”
I heard a tap on the door behind me. Renna waved to a figure on the other side of the glass. Mayor Gary Hurwitz stepped into the office, followed by a suited entourage of three, including city councilman Calvin Washington, deputy mayor Robert DeMonde, and Gail Wong, the mayor’s spokesperson and head tiger shark of his support staff.
“Gary,” Renna said, standing. Following his example, I also rose.
“Sit, Frank. I hope I’m not intruding.”
“No, good timing,” Renna said, remaining on his feet. “Let me introduce you to Jim Brodie. He’s the guy I told you would be consulting on Japantown.”
The major gave me a bright smile. “Yes, of course. My visit was fortuitous, then. I want to stay on top of this one, so I’m glad we have a chance to meet.” He wore a gray herringbone suit, white button-down shirt, and powder-blue tie, an ensemble that complemented his wavy black hair and piercing gray eyes.
We shook hands and Hurwitz introduced the other three. I exchanged quick handshakes with them, Gail’s assessing gaze lingering the longest, then the mayor said, “I was down the hall at Judge Taylor’s, so I thought I’d stop in and preview any new developments you might have.”
It was clear he expected nothing, so I watched with masked satisfaction as Renna rolled out Noda’s discovery.
“We’ve located the kanji.”
The mayor seemed stunned, then pleased. “Have you now?
Renna snapped out of his reverie. “What you’re telling me is the kanji’s so rare, chances of its being at the crime scene accidentally are about as good as my waking up next to Miss Universe?”
“Or Mister Universe.”
“So what’s the name of this place again?”
“Soga-jujo. I checked the map. It’s a small farming village in a little isolated river valley. We’re talking real backwoods, Frank. Good old boys. One or two surnames. Radish and rice growers for centuries. Probably twenty, thirty generations. You could go out there and film Deliverance Two. ”
Renna made a decision. “Send your man. The city will pay. Any way I can get a handle on this thing works for me.”
This is where I drew the line. I wouldn’t jeopardize our friendship over a conflict of interest, and in accepting Hara’s case, that was exactly what I had. Having access to the Japanese mogul gave me a handle onthe case I didn’t want to relinquish if it wasn’t necessary. Renna would see that too. But it was still a conflict.
“The city won’t have to foot the bill,” I said. “Katsuyuki Hara came to see me. Wants me to work the case. Turns out he’s the grandfather of the kids.”
Renna’s head snapped up. “The telecom guy? You?”
“Yep.”
“You say the word, I’ll dump him.”
We were silent. In the squadroom, the three detectives were now at their desks, working the phones. Pinned to a bulletin board on the far wall were a rotation roster, a pair of wanted posters, and under a CRIMINAL OF THE WEEK sign, a photograph of the mayor, his eyes masked with a black bar of kraft paper. As I gazed out on the scene, I wondered how far my friendship with Renna could stretch under the strain of the case. With his career on the line, he would have to wend his way through the labyrinth of city and police politics with caution.
Renna leaned forward. “Hang on to Hara, but you clear everything out of this office with me first.”
“Hara wants results, not details, so he won’t be a problem. But I’ll need to brief my boys in Tokyo. It’s the only way they can work.”
Furrows creased the lieutenant’s brow. “Okay, but keep it in-house.”
“Done. Can you hold off City Hall?”
“No telling, but at the moment they need me more than I need them.”
“And if that changes?”
Renna’s whole career rested with the SFPD. The alternatives were not appealing.
“Without results? The boot downstairs or worse. That happens, you can bet the mayor will act. Have you met him?”
“No.”
“You’re about to.”
I heard a tap on the door behind me. Renna waved to a figure on the other side of the glass. Mayor Gary Hurwitz stepped into the office, followed by a suited entourage of three, including city councilman Calvin Washington, deputy mayor Robert DeMonde, and Gail Wong, the mayor’s spokesperson and head tiger shark of his support staff.
“Gary,” Renna said, standing. Following his example, I also rose.
“Sit, Frank. I hope I’m not intruding.”
“No, good timing,” Renna said, remaining on his feet. “Let me introduce you to Jim Brodie. He’s the guy I told you would be consulting on Japantown.”
The major gave me a bright smile. “Yes, of course. My visit was fortuitous, then. I want to stay on top of this one, so I’m glad we have a chance to meet.” He wore a gray herringbone suit, white button-down shirt, and powder-blue tie, an ensemble that complemented his wavy black hair and piercing gray eyes.
We shook hands and Hurwitz introduced the other three. I exchanged quick handshakes with them, Gail’s assessing gaze lingering the longest, then the mayor said, “I was down the hall at Judge Taylor’s, so I thought I’d stop in and preview any new developments you might have.”
It was clear he expected nothing, so I watched with masked satisfaction as Renna rolled out Noda’s discovery.
“We’ve located the kanji.”
The mayor seemed stunned, then pleased. “Have you now?
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