Dale Furutani - Death in Little Tokyo

“What kind of trouble?”

“Little things. There were all these rumors that he was involved in some kind of theft with the gangs in the camp, but Yuki said it wasn’t true, and I guess she would know.”

“And she was Matsuda’s girlfriend?”

“At least until the incident of the yes-yes and no-no questions came up. In fact, people my age still have hard feelings about the whole yes-yes and no-no controversy. It sounds silly, but there are still fights about this, even after all these years. People still hate each other because they were on one side of the issue or the other. It’s strange. It should all be history now, but instead it still seems that the feelings are strong and fresh as ever. Yuki sided with her brother at the time. Fred said the only way to prove that we were really loyal was to say yes-yes to both questions and to fight for the United States. Susumu and Fred had a big fight over that. That sort of broke up Yuki and Susumu, too.”

“And then Yuki got murdered?”

“Yes, about two months after the fight. After Fred had gone off to the army and got hurt.”

“And you think one of the guards killed her?”

“They had a big investigation, but it was all a phony thing. They never came up with any suspects. It was just a cover-up. It was disgusting.”

“By the way, Mrs. Okada, Okada is your married name, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes. My maiden name was Hirao.”

“So your camp records would be listed under Hirao?”

“Yes, Naomi Hirao.”

“Just as Fred Yoshida’s records would be listed under Jiro Yoshida. Both of you have your camp records listed under names that you don’t use now.” That’s why I couldn’t find their records when I did my search. I silently apologized to the programmer who set up the museum’s system for suspecting there was a bug.

“Did Fred return to Heart Mountain after his injury?” I continued.

“No. They thought there might be trouble because a guard probably killed his sister. So they shipped poor Fred and his entire family off to Manzanar. They were always shuffling people around from camp to camp to separate who they thought might be troublemakers.” She brightened up a bit. “Are you investigating Yuki’s murder? That happened fifty years ago.”

“No, I’m not investigating Yuki Yoshida’s murder,” I said. “I’m investigating Susumu Matsuda’s murder. Didn’t you see the article about him in the L.A. Times?”

“I told you that with my eyes I can’t read too much anymore. I knew about the murder in Little Tokyo, but I didn’t know that was the same Matsuda who was at Heart Mountain with me.” She shook her head. “Well, it’s a small world, isn’t it?”

The backstage of the Paradise Vineyard had the same spooky feeling that I felt every time I walked in there. I supposed that after awhile you’d get used to being backstage. But as a novice not quite understanding the workings of the theater, I still found it surprising and disquieting to see behind the magic that I usually saw when facing a stage.

Nobody challenged me as I walked through the stage door and made my way back to the practice area, where I saw Yoshida sitting at a table doing some paperwork. On his lap sat his cane.

“Hello,” I said.

Yoshida looked up from his writing. “Hello.”

“I came back to talk to you again.”

“I can see that.”

I looked around for a chair to sit on. Not seeing one handy, I stood. “I saw a mutual friend of ours this morning.”

“Who’s that?”

“Angela Sanchez. She says that on the night that Matsuda was killed, he came back with her to the theater, where he met you. She said that you two knew each other, but you hadn’t seen each other for fifty years.”

“Yes, that’s true,” he said. “We almost didn’t recognize each other.”

“I can imagine. Fifty years is a long time.”

“A very long time.”

“But evidently not long enough to forgive some things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not quite sure, but I think I have most things figured out. About Matsuda’s murder, I mean. But not the motive.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think we both know what I’m talking about.”

“You think I was involved in Matsuda’s murder? Just because we knew each other? That night was the first time we met in fifty years. I didn’t mention it to the police because I didn’t want to get involved.”

“Is not getting involved why you paid for Angela’s motel room in Long Beach? You told her to get out of town, that the Yakuza was after her.”

“I didn’t tell her that.”

“She says you did. She really likes and respects you. She trusts you. It’s a shame you used that trust against her.”

“Just what do you mean?”

“Like I said, I think I have most things figured out. That night Matsuda met Angela in the bar. She turned a trick with him and then invited him to come back to the theater to see her act. I guess she is a very friendly girl, or maybe Matsuda was a big tipper. Who knows. For whatever reason, he came back with her, probably because the little piece of business he had to do with me had been completed.

“Anyway, he was very surprised to see someone he hadn’t seen for fifty years when he walked backstage. That was you, the brother of the woman he used to date. You see, I found out that you were in Heart Mountain Camp before you were in Manzanar. I even have your records of when you were at Heart Mountain and when you were at Manzanar. I was able to match your name on two lists to make sure the same Jiro Yoshida was in two camps. I even learned that Matsuda and Yuki were boyfriend and girlfriend when they were in the camps, before the big blowup over the loyalty oath occurred.”

Yoshida looked surprised, but made no comment.

“Anyway, he came back here and met you. Then I think you two guys went out for a drink, maybe at the same bar you took me to. It would probably be easy enough to check with the bartender to find out for sure.

“Afterward, you and Matsuda went back to his room and something happened there. Something happened that was so horrendous it made you lose all control, and you took out the sword hidden in the cane that you carry.”

I saw Yoshida’s hand tightening around the shaft of his cane, and I knew my guess was right. I thanked Kurosawa and the sword/cane scene in Sanjuro. “Then you hacked Matsuda to pieces. When you were done, you put on your overcoat, which covered most of the bloodstains on your clothing, and left his room.”

“You’re pretty good,” Yoshida said. “Maybe it’s because you’re smart. Japanese tend to be smart.”

“That’s as much a racial stereotype as the one that says we’re inscrutable and that we can’t show emotion. You and I both know that we can show a lot of emotion. In fact, Japanese view themselves as very emotional people. Because of that emotion, we get in trouble a lot. Like when you lost your temper and killed Matsuda. The one thing I don’t know is what caused it. I think the police can prove everything else, but they’ll never know the cause unless you tell them.

“Angela will testify that you and Matsuda met here at the theater. I know someone who was in the Heart Mountain Relocation Camp with you who will testify that she knew Matsuda when he used to date your sister, Yuki. If you and Matsuda didn’t go to the same bar that we did, then it must be another one around here locally. I’m sure the police will be able to find out from the bartender that you two guys were in drinking on the night Matsuda was killed.

“That sword cane of yours is a pretty good idea for someone who has to work late in downtown L.A. But no matter how carefully you’ve cleaned the blade, there will be some microscopic bloodstains still on it that the police will be able to find. In any case, the inside of one of your coats will have bloodstains that the police will be able to match to Matsuda’s. But like I said, the one thing that’s missing is why you did it. Originally I thought this had something to do with the Yakuza, but although Matsuda was involved with the Yakuza, I don’t think you are. There’s another reason. A reason so bad that you got into a rage and hacked him to pieces.”