looked at it as if he suspected evaporation as the culprit. Micky sot us another round.
"On the one hand, we probably don't have any records like prints on this guy. Have to go through Interpol. Then again, if he's a Japanese national visiting the area, we should have INS records."
"Summer in the city," Micky commented. "I'll bet there are thousands of Japanese tourists in town."
"How're you gonna run him down?" I said.
Micky smiled evilly. "That, bro, is what newly minted detectives are for."
"Most Japanese tourists will be traveling in groups," I suggested. "This guy probably won't."
"Ya see? It gets better and better. We've got it narrowed down a bit more." He paused for a minute and looked significantly at Art. They didn't say anything, but I got the sense of messages flying back and forth through the air. Messages I was not meant to hear.
Art sat forward in his chair and began to speak very slowly and clearly to me. "So think about this, Connor. The link is through Japan. And the martial arts."
I said nothing, just sipped some beer and watched him work.
"So there are three prominent martial artists," he continued. "And this guy is ... I dunno, tracking them down."
"You sure?" I asked him. He shrugged.
"Oh yeah," Art said. "The sequence is too tight." He ticked the points off one by one. "LA ... Phoenix ... now here. All within days of one another. The killer is traveling. Messages seem to pretty much bear that interpretation out: all that "I am coming, I am here' shit."
"High drama," my brother agreed.
But something was bothering me. "Ya know, I don't see Reilly as being in the same class as Ikagi and Kubata. Not at all."
Art nodded. "There's a link between victims we don't see yet."
"Ya follow a trail, it's because it leads to something," Micky said quietly. "The trail leads here. The calligraphy confirms it. In LA, it was just the signature, a kind of general announcement. Then Phoenix and a type of warning. But here, the message is that he's arrived."
"Question is," Art commented, "who's supposed to be getting the message?"
"There's something we don't know about that's happening right under our noses," Micky groused. "Someone local is reading that message and knowing what it means."
"What!" I couldn't believe it.
The expression on their faces told me they were disappointed. So my brother filled me in.
"There's something your pal the sensei is not tellin us."
"Come on," I said. "This is all speculation. We don't really know anything for sure."
"It feels right to me," my brother said flatly. He looked questioningly at Art.
"My gut says 'yeah." too," his partner replied. And they waited with that quiet cop intensity for me to say something.
"Maybe whoever is doing this is just a lunatic," I protested. "The victims might not be linked."
"Then why kill them?" my brother asked.
"I know something about Ikagi," I said. "He was a pretty prominent karate instructor. Real old school. Very well respected. Kubata was too. I can dig around and see what I can find out. But they're both celebrities of a type."
"Celebrities?" Micky sounded incredulous.
"Well," I shrugged, "in the martial arts world."
"Connor," Art said, "are you saying that Ikagi and Kubata got whacked because Ronin thought they were famous?" He was dubious. "I dunno. We'll keep it in mind.... But what about Reilly?"
I shrugged.
"I still think there's a connection," Micky finished.
I shrugged again.
BOo
"But think of the fun we could have," Art said with glee. "A celebrity."
"Killed by a stalker." Micky had that look in his eye.
Art continued. "A celebrity stalker."
"Don't do this," I pleaded. But it was too late.
Micky went on. "A samurai celebrity stalker."
Art pointed triumphantly to the ceiling. "A psycho samurai celebrity stalker."
Which seemed to sum it all up nicely.
We sat for a while longer and swirled more beer around in fresh cans, like witches stirring a potion. As I went outside, Micky was punching numbers into the
"On the one hand, we probably don't have any records like prints on this guy. Have to go through Interpol. Then again, if he's a Japanese national visiting the area, we should have INS records."
"Summer in the city," Micky commented. "I'll bet there are thousands of Japanese tourists in town."
"How're you gonna run him down?" I said.
Micky smiled evilly. "That, bro, is what newly minted detectives are for."
"Most Japanese tourists will be traveling in groups," I suggested. "This guy probably won't."
"Ya see? It gets better and better. We've got it narrowed down a bit more." He paused for a minute and looked significantly at Art. They didn't say anything, but I got the sense of messages flying back and forth through the air. Messages I was not meant to hear.
Art sat forward in his chair and began to speak very slowly and clearly to me. "So think about this, Connor. The link is through Japan. And the martial arts."
I said nothing, just sipped some beer and watched him work.
"So there are three prominent martial artists," he continued. "And this guy is ... I dunno, tracking them down."
"You sure?" I asked him. He shrugged.
"Oh yeah," Art said. "The sequence is too tight." He ticked the points off one by one. "LA ... Phoenix ... now here. All within days of one another. The killer is traveling. Messages seem to pretty much bear that interpretation out: all that "I am coming, I am here' shit."
"High drama," my brother agreed.
But something was bothering me. "Ya know, I don't see Reilly as being in the same class as Ikagi and Kubata. Not at all."
Art nodded. "There's a link between victims we don't see yet."
"Ya follow a trail, it's because it leads to something," Micky said quietly. "The trail leads here. The calligraphy confirms it. In LA, it was just the signature, a kind of general announcement. Then Phoenix and a type of warning. But here, the message is that he's arrived."
"Question is," Art commented, "who's supposed to be getting the message?"
"There's something we don't know about that's happening right under our noses," Micky groused. "Someone local is reading that message and knowing what it means."
"What!" I couldn't believe it.
The expression on their faces told me they were disappointed. So my brother filled me in.
"There's something your pal the sensei is not tellin us."
"Come on," I said. "This is all speculation. We don't really know anything for sure."
"It feels right to me," my brother said flatly. He looked questioningly at Art.
"My gut says 'yeah." too," his partner replied. And they waited with that quiet cop intensity for me to say something.
"Maybe whoever is doing this is just a lunatic," I protested. "The victims might not be linked."
"Then why kill them?" my brother asked.
"I know something about Ikagi," I said. "He was a pretty prominent karate instructor. Real old school. Very well respected. Kubata was too. I can dig around and see what I can find out. But they're both celebrities of a type."
"Celebrities?" Micky sounded incredulous.
"Well," I shrugged, "in the martial arts world."
"Connor," Art said, "are you saying that Ikagi and Kubata got whacked because Ronin thought they were famous?" He was dubious. "I dunno. We'll keep it in mind.... But what about Reilly?"
I shrugged.
"I still think there's a connection," Micky finished.
I shrugged again.
BOo
"But think of the fun we could have," Art said with glee. "A celebrity."
"Killed by a stalker." Micky had that look in his eye.
Art continued. "A celebrity stalker."
"Don't do this," I pleaded. But it was too late.
Micky went on. "A samurai celebrity stalker."
Art pointed triumphantly to the ceiling. "A psycho samurai celebrity stalker."
Which seemed to sum it all up nicely.
We sat for a while longer and swirled more beer around in fresh cans, like witches stirring a potion. As I went outside, Micky was punching numbers into the
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