Rising Sun

I stared numbly at the TV. Disciplinary review?



The phone rang. It was Ellen Farley again. "You get all that?"



"Yeah, I did. I can't believe it. What's it about, Ellen?"



"None of this is coming from the mayor's office, if that's what you're asking. But the Japanese community has been unhappy with Graham before. They think he's a racist. It looks like he played right into their hands."



"I was there. Graham acted correctly."



"Yeah, I know you were there, Pete. Frankly, it's unfortunate. I don't want to see you tarred by the same brush."



I said, "Graham acted correctly."



"Are you listening, Pete?"



"What about this suspension and disciplinary review?"



"That's the first I heard of it," Ellen said. "But that would be internally generated. It's coming from your own department. By the way, is it true? Did you and Connor see Sakamura last night?"



"Yes."



"And you didn't arrest him?"



"No. We didn't have probable cause to arrest him when we talked to him. Later on, we did."



Ellen said, "Do you really think he could have done this murder?"



"I know he did. We have it on tape."



"On tape? Are you serious?"



"Yeah. We have the murder on videotape from one of the Nakamoto security cameras."



She was silent for a while. I said, "Ellen?"



"Look," Ellen said. "Off the record, okay?"



"Sure."



"I don't know what's going on here, Pete. There's more than I understand."



"Why didn't you tell me who the girl was, last night?"



"I'm sorry about that. I had a lot to take care of."



"Ellen."



A silence. Then: "Pete, this girl got around. She knew a lot of people."



"Did she know the mayor?"



Silence.



"How well did she know him?"



"Listen," Ellen said, "Let's just say she was a pretty girl and she knew a lot of people in this town. Personally, I thought she was unbalanced, but she was good-looking and she had a hell of an effect on men. You had to see it to believe it. Now there's a lot of irons in the fire. You saw the Times today?"



"No."



"Take a look. If you ask me, you want to be very correct, the next couple of days. Dot your i's and cross your t's. Do everything by the book. And watch your back, okay?"



"Okay. Thanks, Ellen."



"Don't thank me. I didn't call." Then her voice got softer. "Take care of yourself, Peter."



I heard a dial tone.



"Daddy?"



"Just a minute, Shel."



"Can I watch cartoons?"



"Sure, honey."



I found her a station with some cartoons and walked into the living room. I opened the front door and picked up the Times from the mat. It took me a while to find the story on the last page of the Metro section.



Charges of Police Racism



Cloud Japanese Fete



I skimmed the first paragraph. Japanese officials of the Nakamoto corporation complained about "callous and insensitive" police behavior, which they said detracted from a star-studded opening night at their new skyscraper on Figueroa. At least one Nakamoto official expressed the view that the police actions were "racially motivated." A spokesperson said: "We do not believe the Los Angeles Police Department would behave in this fashion if a Japanese corporation were not involved. We feel strongly that the actions of the police reflect a double standard for treatment of Japanese at the hands of American officials." Mr. Hiroshi Ogura, chairman of the board of Nakamoto, was present at the party, which drew such celebrities as Madonna and Tom Cruise, but he could not be reached for comment on the incident. A spokesman said, "Mr. Ogura is deeply disturbed that official hostility should mar this gathering. He very much regrets the unpleasantness that occurred."



According to observers, Mayor Thomas sent a staff member to deal with the police, but with little result. The police did not modify their behavior, despite the presence of the special Japanese liaison officer, Lieutenant Peter Smith, whose job is to defuse racially sensitive situations... .



And so on.



You had to read four paragraphs before you discovered that a murder had occurred. That particular detail seemed to be almost irrelevant.



I looked back at the lead. The story was from the City News Service, which meant there was no byline.



I felt angry enough to call my old contact at the Times, Kenny Shubik. Ken was the leading Metro reporter. He had been at the paper forever, and he knew everything that was going on. Since it was still eight in the morning, I called him at home.



"Ken. Pete Smith."



"Oh, hi," he said. "Glad you got my message."



In the background, I heard what sounded like a teenage girl: "Oh, come on, Dad. Why can't I go?"



Ken said, "Jennifer, let me talk here for a minute."



"What message?" I said.



Ken said, "I called you last night, because I thought you ought to know right away. He's obviously working off a tip. But do you have any idea what's behind it?"



"Behind what?" I said. I didn't know what he was talking about. "I'm sorry, Ken, I didn't get your message."



"Really?" he said. "I called you about eleven-thirty last night. The DHD dispatcher said you had rolled out on a case but you had a car phone. I told her it was important, and for you to call me at home if necessary. Because I felt sure you'd want to know."



In the background, the girl said, "Dad, come on, I have to decide what to wear."



"Jennifer, damn it," he said. "Chill out." To me he said, "You have a daughter, don't you?"



"Yeah," I said. "But she's only two."



"Just wait," Ken said. "Look, Pete. You really didn't get my message?"



"No," I said. "I'm calling about something else: the story in this morning's paper."



"What story?"



"The Nakamoto coverage on page eight. The one about 'callous and racist police' at the opening."



"Jeez, I didn't think we had a Nakamoto story yesterday. I know Jodie was doing the party, but that won't run until tomorrow. You know, Japan draws the glitterati. Jeff didn't have anything on the scheds in Metro yesterday."



Jeff was the Metro editor. I said, "There's a story in the paper this morning about the murder."



"What murder?" he said. His voice sounded odd.



"There was a murder at Nakamoto last night. About eight-thirty. One of the guests was killed."



Ken was silent at the other end of the line. Putting things together. Finally he said, "Were you involved?"



"Homicide called me in as Japanese liaison."



"Hmmm," Ken said. "Listen. Let me get to my desk and see what I can find out. Let's talk in an hour. And give me your numbers so I can call you direct."



"Okay."



He cleared his throat. "Listen, Pete," he said. "Just between us. Do you have any problems?"



"Like what?"



"Like a morals problem, or a problem with your bank account. Discrepancy about reported income... anything I should know about? As your friend?"



"No," I said.



"I don't need the details. But if there's something that isn't quite right... . "



"Nothing, Ken."



" 'Cause if I have to go to bat for you, I don't want to discover I have stepped in shit."



"Ken. What's going on?"



"I don't want to go into detail right now. But offhand I would say somebody is trying to fuck you in the ass," Ken said.



The girl said, "Daddy, that's disgusting."



"Well, you're not supposed to be listening. Pete?"



"Yeah," I said. "I'm here."



"Call me in an hour," Ken said.



"You're a pal," I said. "I owe you."



"Fucking right you do," Ken said.



He hung up.



I looked around the apartment. Everything still looked the same. Morning sunlight was still streaming into the room. Michelle was sitting in her favorite chair, watching cartoons and sucking her thumb. But somehow everything felt different. It was creepy. It was like the world had tilted.



But I had things to do. It was also getting late; I had to get her dressed before Elaine came to take her to day care. I told her that. She started to cry. So I turned off the television set, and she threw herself on the floor and began to kick and scream. "No, Daddy! Cartoons, Daddy!"



I picked her up and slung her underarm to the bedroom to get her changed. She was screaming at the top of her lungs. The phone rang again. This time it was the division dispatcher.



"Morning, Lieutenant. I have your uncleared messages."



"Let me get a pencil," I said. I put Michelle down. She cried even louder. I said, "Can you go pick out which shoes you want to wear today?"



"Sounds like you got a murder there," the dispatcher said.



"She doesn't want to get dressed for school."



Michelle was tugging at my leg. "No, Daddy. No school, Daddy."



"Yes, school," I said firmly. She bawled. "Go ahead," I said to the dispatcher.



"Okay, eleven forty-one last night, you had a call from a Ken Subotik or Subotnick, L.A. Times, he said please call him. Message reads 'The Weasel is checking up on you.' He said you would know what that meant. You can call him at home. You have the number?"



"Yes."



"Okay. One forty-two a.m. this morning, you had a call from a Mr. Eddie Saka - looks like Sakamura. He said it's urgent, please call him at home, 555-8434. It's about the missing tape. Okay?"



Shit.



I said, "What time was that call?"



"One forty-two a.m. The call was forwarded to County General and I guess their switchboard couldn't locate you. You were at the morgue or something?"



"Yeah."



"Sorry, Lieutenant, but once you're out of your car, we have to go through intermediates."



"Okay. Anything else?"



"Then at six forty-three a.m., Captain Connor left a beeper number for you to call. He said he's playing golf this morning."



"Okay."



"And at seven-ten, we had a call from Robert Woodson, who is with Senator Morton's office. Senator Morton wants to meet you and Captain Connor at one o'clock today at the Los Angeles Country Club. He asked that you call and confirm that you will attend the meeting with the senator. I tried to reach you but your phone was busy. Will you call the senator?"



I said I would call the senator. I told the dispatcher to page Connor for me at the golf course, and have him call me in the car.



I heard the front door unlock. Elaine came in. "Good morning," she said.



"I'm afraid Shelly isn't dressed yet."



"That's okay," she said. "I'll do it. What time is Mrs. Davis coming to pick her up?"



"We're waiting to hear."



Elaine had been through this routine many times before. "Come on, Michelle. Let's pick your clothes for today. Time to get ready for school."



I looked at my watch, and was on my way to get another cup of coffee when the phone rang. "Lieutenant Peter Smith, please."



It was the assistant chief, Jim Olson.



* * *



"Hi, Jim."



"Morning, Pete." He sounded friendly. But Jim Olson never called anybody before ten o'clock in the morning unless there was a big problem. Olson said, "Looks like we got ourselves a rattlesnake by the tail. You see the papers today?"



"Yeah, I did."



"You happen to catch the morning news?"



"Some of it."



"The chief's been calling me for damage control. I wanted to get where you stand before I make a recommendation. Okay?"



"Okay."



"I just got off the phone with Tom Graham. He admits last night was a prime screwup. Nobody is covered in glory."



"I'm afraid not."



"Couple of naked broads impeded two able-bodied police officers and prevented apprehension of the suspect? Is that about it?"



It sounded ridiculous. I said, "You had to be there, Jim."



"Uh-huh," he said. "Well, one good thing so far. I've been checking if correct pursuit procedures were followed. Apparently they were. We have recordings off the computers, and we have voice recordings off the radio, and it's all strictly by the book. Thank God. Nobody even swears. We can release those records to the media if this thing gets any worse. So we're covered there. But it's very unfortunate that Sakamura is dead."



"Yes."



"Graham went back to get the girls, but the house was deserted. The girls were gone."



"I see."



"In all the rush, nobody got the names of the girls?"



"No, I'm afraid not."



"That means we have no witnesses to the events in the house. So we're a little vulnerable."



"Uh-huh."



"They're cutting Sakamura's body out of the wreck this morning to ship what's left to the morgue. Graham tells me as far as he's concerned, the case is wrapped up. I gather there are videotapes that show Sakamura killed the girl. Graham says he is ready to file his concluding five-seven-nine report. Is that how you see it? The case closed?"



"I guess so, Chief. Sure."



"Then we can shut this fucker down," the chief said. "The Japanese community finds the Nakamoto inquiry irritating and offensive. They don't want it to continue any longer than necessary. So if we can call it a day, it would help."



"It's okay with me," I said. "Let's call it a day."



"Well that's good, Pete," the chief said. "I'm going to speak to the chief, see if we can head off any disciplinary action."



"Thanks, Jim."



"Try not to worry. Myself, I don't see a disciplinary issue. As long as we have videos that show Sakamura did it."



"Yeah, we do."