Stephen White - Cold Case

"No. As you can see from my card, I'm a practicing clinical psychologist in Boulder, Colorado. I am not a permanent member of Locard. They consider me 'a guest specialist," which is a fancy way of saying that I'm an invited volunteer. I was asked to participate only in the current investigation.

The one involving the murder of your daughter, Mariko, and her friend, Tamara Franklin."

"And-please excuse my ignorance-why does Locard feel it needs the assistance of a clinical psychologist in Boulder, Colorado?"

My speech about the necessity of getting to know the two dead girls was beginning to feel rehearsed, even polished. I gave it again with some confidence.

As I finished, Hamamoto's face softened and his lips parted.

"You have completed your words, Dr. Gregory. In your eyes, though, I see that you are not done with your explanation of your involvement with me and my family."

Prevaricating with this man felt as though it would be counterproductive.

"All right," I said.

"Let me share the other reason for my involvement. Sometime shortly before her death your daughter, Mr. Hamamoto, was in psychotherapy in Steamboat Springs with a clinical psychologist like myself. It is an episode in her young life that Locard feels is worthy of more investigation. I concur with that assessment.

The forensic psychologist and psychiatrist on Locard thought that I would be the correct person to explore the issues related to that therapy."

"Dr. Welle," he said.

"The now famous Dr. Welle." Taro Hamamoto touched the collar of his shirt and swallowed. I expected him to launch into criticism of Raymond Welle. Instead, Hamamoto said, "He helped her. I want you to know that.

He helped all of us. Dr. Welle did. Dr. Raymond Welle." His hands clenched into fists before he released the pressure and spread his fingers.

"Back then, Mariko was skiing too fast. She was in danger of catching an edge.

Dr. Welle helped her get back under control. It was a great service to us."

The skiing metaphor surprised me almost as much as the praise. I said, "I'm glad to hear that he was so helpful to your family."

"Yes"

"It turns out that I am scheduled to meet with Dr. Welle in two days. In Colorado. His office has been gracious enough to set up a meeting to discuss the resumption of the old investigation."

Hamamoto nodded.

"For that meeting to be of any benefit to me I will need to provide Dr. Welle with written authorization from you-or your wife-that he has your permission to speak with me about your daughter's psychotherapy. Without that permission the records of her treatment remain confidential and he is not allowed to share with me any details of his work with Mariko."

"Are you suggesting that Dr. Welle has information that would help identify my daughter's killer?" His jaws tightened as he finished speaking.

"I have no reason to suspect he has direct knowledge," I replied.

"But he may know something that might help us reconstruct-with the benefit of hindsight and modern forensics-the circumstances that brought your daughter in contact with her killer."

I didn't know how Hamamoto was going to reply. He said, "My wife is not available. She is… living in Japan." These words were clipped, almost unfriendly.

I didn't comment on the tone.

"Your signature alone is sufficient, Mr. Hamamoto."

My carry-on bag was a slender satchel that contained a notebook and a case file. I removed the file and from it and withdrew a single sheet of paper that I had prepared on my computer the previous evening. I slid it toward him.

"This is all you want from me?" His voice betrayed his disappointment. Was there also contempt?

"This paper is all you want from me?"

I softened my voice and leaned closer to him, just an inch or two.

"No, Mr. Hamamoto. I need this paper for the next step in my work. But this step"-I touched the table in front of me-"what will happen between us today, must precede it. I want you to help me know Mariko. I want to know your daughter through your eyes. I want to begin to appreciate her the way you did."

He raised the index finger of his left hand to his mouth and pressed gently on his upper lip until it separated from the lower one.

Symbolically, I thought, he was unsealing them.

"When my company acquired the ski area in Steamboat Springs I was honored to be selected to serve as general manager. My family joined me in Colorado after I was in Steamboat Springs for four months and two weeks. My family then was my wife, Eri, and my two daughters, Mariko and Satoshi. Mariko was sixteen, Satoshi fourteen, then, I think. Yes."

Taro had allowed his posture to soften enough that I no longer felt that I had to impersonate a marine to sit comfortably with him.

"We had, of course, lived abroad before. As a family. The children spoke English well. My wife, not so well. She has always found the language and the culture to be… difficult. She often mused to herself while she knew I was close enough to overhear that she hoped our exile in Colorado would be a brief one. It was one of her favorite words." He said something in Japanese. In English, he said, "Exile."

His eyes grew heavy as though he were suddenly too tired to continue.

"My wife, it seems, she was granted her wish." His eyes closed for a few moments as he composed himself.

"My children loved living in Colorado. Are you familiar with Steamboat Springs, Dr. Gregory?" I said, "Yes, as a matter of fact I was there last weekend with my wife. It's a lovely town."

"The Mountain Village was small then. The town quiet. Everything was much less congested than it is now. The hillside-it reminded us of the place in Japan where my parents lived-a small village near Nagano. You know Nagano? From the Olympics? I felt safe in Steamboat. So did the girls. There is some irony there, yes? They walked places on their own. Visited with other children, went to school, had a normal life. We were outsiders yes, but we were accustomed to that. The girls were… happy.

"Both girls were skiers, of course. Excellent skiers. That helped them-what do you say?-fit in with the local kids in Steamboat. At my urging my wife permitted Mariko and Satoshi freedoms similar to those enjoyed by their new friends. My wife argued against the permissiveness. She felt that it would not serve them well when we returned to Japan."

With apparent sorrow, he said, "My wife… it seems… has always been someone who is concerned mostly with the past… but also some with the future. She worries little about the present… except that she worries as to how it will change the future. And how it will be viewed-appraised?-once it has become the past. I am a businessman, the one in the family who concerns himself with the present. A flaw of mine? Perhaps. If it is a defect it is one that Dr. Welle supported. But… that came later."

I didn't ask permission to take notes, but simply removed the notepad from my satchel and a pen from my pocket and started keeping a chronology of dates and people as Taro Hamamoto sketched in every minute detail of his family's acculturation in Colorado. If he objected to my keeping a journal of the specifics I couldn't discern it from his demeanor.

We were halfway through the time alotted for our meeting when he mentioned Tamara Franklin for the first time. We both laughed as he said, "I met her father and mother, of course. Her father called Tamara'a little pistol." When I got to know her better I thought she was more like a whole big gun." The memories were affectionate, not cross.

He turned serious again immediately.

"But she was kind, so kind to my Mariko. I forgave her the impetuousness. I forgave her the occasional disrespect. I forgave it all because she was so kind and generous to my daughter. Tamara was a very good friend to Mariko. I had good friends growing up, so I know about friendship. And Tamara Franklin was a good friend."