Eye Sleuth (29 page)

“Nine-one-one?” he asked.

“No, the Thirteenth Precinct.”

I gave the cabbie the direct number to Dan’s office. Dan was out of town but maybe his partner, Zoran Zeissing, was on duty, although I hadn’t seen him since the police had come to the college after the shooting of Mary Sakamoto.

“Ask for Detective Zeissing,” I told the cabbie as he punched in the numbers.

Zeissing must have answered the phone because the driver passed me the mouthpiece.

“This is Yoko Kamimura,” I said. “Allan Barnes from the college is in Pete’s Tavern and he has a gun. He’s a murderer. I’m in a cab down the street, watching to see if he comes out of the tavern. A tunnel connects Pete’s to the old Meeting House, that empty building on Gramercy Park South. Send a car to the Meeting House, in case Barnes goes back down the tunnel and tries to escape that way. Matt Wahr and two thugs may still be at the Meeting House.”

I heard the detective calling to the dispatcher to radio squad cars in the vicinity to get to Pete’s Tavern and the Meeting House. That done, he came back to me.

“It’s for real,” I told him and sat on the edge of the seat, staring at Pete’s Tavern, ready to duck down out of sight if Allan emerged.

Two squad cars pulled up outside Pete’s, lights flashing but no sirens. Allan was on his knees inside when the police found him, he was still searching for the lens I’d dislodged. You lose more than depth perception with the wrong prescription. Some times, you may even lose whatever grasp you have on a balanced perspective. Greed, power, money, you name it, he’d gone over the edge. Whether Allan Barnes ever had a balanced perspective is debatable. In his case, monovision might have given him an inflated confidence that he could outwit the world and garner a fortune. What did he care that it was blood money.

When Allan was in custody, I was finally able to relax. At last the accidents and attacks were behind us. Matt Wahr turned himself in later that night. His involvement had been reluctant. He’d been blackmailed by Allan, who knew about Lou Kralle’s wild threat to revenge his son’s death. Allan had played with Wahr’s head, skilfully fostering a sense of injustice, offering easy money to a man close to retirement. Soon Wahr was in so deep he had no choice but to follow where Allan led.

I was at my desk a week or so later when Dan called and at the sound of his voice, I steeled myself for what he had to say. Was this the end of our relationship?

“Yoko, I’m back,” he said, voice quiet. “I’m sorry I was away for so long but nothing’s changed between my ex and me. We still rub each other’s nerves raw. It didn’t take either of us long to see that but after I got back, I needed time to think it over.”

“Oh,” I said. Pregnant pause.

“I spent time with her but all we did was bicker or plain snarl at each other. On the drive back from Pennsylvania, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, hoping I hadn’t blown it. Then I heard Wahr and Barnes were in custody and what happened to you.” He hesitated for a heartbeat. “Can I see you, maybe have dinner tonight? I’ll be done around five. Could we meet somewhere? The Elephant & Castle?”

I hesitated, still upset at how much time had passed without Dan calling me. Yet he had trusted me with the truth when he’d said he was going to see his ex. I’d trust him now. Besides, with Allan Barnes and Matt Wahr in custody, the danger was definitely over. I could celebrate. It was time to christen the electric shabu-shabu pan my mother gave me two years ago. Shabu-shabu is a special meal, perfect for a celebration. I issued the invitation and Dan promptly accepted. That evening, I was ready to leave work by five but first I called Pete Soltys, the owner at KK. Whatever was on KK’s menu could be bought raw or cooked, you only had to ask.

“It’s the Japanese version of fondue, no cheese, just beef, veggies and noodles. Everything cooks in a special pot filled with water and when you finish eating the food, you’ve got a great broth.”

The three interested listeners on the stools at the counter nodded in agreement. Walking out of KK, I met Dan. No hesitation in the way he opened his arms wide. We hugged long and hard and when we broke, I peeked back through KK’s front window. Yep, we’d had an audience. Pete and the folks at the counter waved enthusiastically.

Upstairs, as soon as the door to my apartment was shut, we hugged again and kissed, a long, slow exciting kiss, and it was as good as I remembered. Maybe better. Just to be sure, we kissed a few times more, quality control and all that. This time, the cats were the interested audience. They watched curiously but didn’t meow one objection, as comfortable with Dan’s presence as I was.

“You’re the talk of the station,” Dan said. “Zoran said your voice was cucumber cool when you called in. You didn’t even say you’d been abducted. Just reported how we could catch a murderer or two.” He kissed me again, a delicate caress on my cheek. “You’re a strong woman, Yoko. I thought you might appreciate a tonic so here’s a bottle of champagne. Two glasses if you please, the bubbly’s still cold,” and Dan pulled a bottle from the canvas bag slung over his shoulder.

“By the way, if you’re interested, I’ve got the inside story of what Barnes and Wahr admitted when they were questioned.”

At last the pieces of the puzzle were slotting into place. I moved around the kitchen, setting the table, sipping champagne, enjoying Dan’s presence. Listening, asking the occasional question.

“Barnes caused Mary Sakamoto’s death. Indirectly, it’s true, but he set the wheels in motion,” Dan said. “It looks as if the connection with you is that Mary Sakamoto overheard Barnes talking to his partners in crime about harassing you to find out about the schedule for Dr. Anders’ work. Allan said he was going after you any which way. He said he’d hire some goons and give them carte blanche and pay them well each time they reported on success. When he could, he lifted information piecemeal from your computer because he was trying to get the equipment made so he could market it, undercover, of course.”

“Was Mary Sakamoto involved?” I asked.

“No. She was working at the New York home of the Albany politician, the guy who leaked Wahr’s name to the fraud squad for having cooked the books, part of Barnes’ plan to blackmail Wahr,” Dan explained. “Wahr described you to the goon who shot Sakamoto.”

“Why was Mary Sakamoto at the politician’s house?”

“Fitting an expensive wedding dress for the politician’s daughter in the room next to where Wahr and the politician were meeting. The bride-to-be had her dad come in a few times to see the dress and the door was left open. Sakamoto must have heard the men talk. You were described as the only Japanese woman at the college. Obviously, Sakamoto decided to warn you.”

“She knew of possible danger to me but didn’t realize how dangerous it might be for her.”

Shaken at the ugly truth, I was silent. Mary Sakamoto had been a woman of integrity, a woman who died because she was courageous enough to try to help a stranger.

“That’s the connection,” I said. “Mary Sakamoto’s daughter must have told her about her teacher, Naoko Kamimura. My mom. It’s one of those coincidences where life’s stranger than fiction.”

Tears filled my eyes for the brave woman who had warned me and for the daughter whose mother had been killed. Dan came to where I stood by the fridge, a bag of red peppers in my hand, and we hugged, a comforting, soothing embrace.

“Now your shirt’s wet,” I sniffled and fished in my pocket for Kleenex. “Getting hungry, Dan?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll start the meal.” I took the new shabu-shabu pan off the shelf by the fridge and half-filled it with water. Putting it in the center of the table, I plugged it in and started on the veggies, putting fresh spinach to soak in a bowl of cold water, slicing onion and red peppers.

“Wahr tried to wriggle out of any responsibility,” Dan said, picking up the rest of the story. “Insisted he didn’t know what the goons would get up to. But he knew Barnes sent money every time the guys reported back.”

Finishing with the veggies, I arranged them on two plates and put them on the table next to a dish of soba noodles. The water in the pot was simmering already. As I got the beef out of the fridge, I asked about something that had never stopped bothering me.

“Do you know what caused Fred Anders’s death? Was it really a heart attack?”

“Yes,” Dan said. “Barnes had the goons visit SUNY late one night and threaten Anders, tell him his family would be harassed if he didn’t cooperate. That threatening visit may have triggered the heart attack.”

“That hit-and-run out in Connecticut, when you were visiting the optometrist who took you to the police academy, that was Lou Kralle, the lunatic who attacked you in England.”

“I knew that attack had something to do with Dr. Forkiotis being an expert witness,” I said. “Kralle’s desire for revenge started at Lou Junior’s trial.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s the link with Lanny, too?”

“Yes. Lou went to the club to see his son’s art when it was in the students’ exhibition. On his way out, he passed Mrs. Oldenburgh and heard her talking on her cell phone with Forkiotis about giving a lecture on drunk driving. He followed her upstairs, spur of the moment, told her Forkiotis was wrong. She defended the doctor and Lou lost it, went ballistic.”

We sat in silence for a moment and I considered what Dan had told me. Lou Kralle had been on a terrible vendetta to avenge his son’s death, revenge fueling that rage.

“The death in England of Matt Wahr’s cousin, Lou Kralle, disrupted Barnes’ link with the manufacturer of illegal copies of the prototypes,” Dan said. “Not one to be thwarted, Barnes developed a new contact but suddenly was told more money was needed because of manufacturing problems. Suspicious, he decided to see if he could find out more about the prototypes from you, hoping the bullies could extract enough information from you to safeguard his investment.”

Could my abduction have been avoided if I’d asked Ian Campbell, the super at 34 Gramercy Park, why Wahr was visiting him there? Hard to say. My assumption that Wahr wanted to hide out in one of the building’s apartments was half right––assumptions do that, half trick you. Wahr was indeed seeking a hiding place and under the guise of looking over property for SUNY to relocate, asked around in the area about empty buildings. He learned Ian Campbell had a key to the empty Meeting House opposite 34. Wahr arranged to see the place and made a copy of the key. The empty building was a brilliant hiding place, it even had more than one exit. It was common knowledge the building had been part of the Underground Railway and somehow he’d found the location of the secret room.

How Barnes and Wahr discovered the tunnel that led to Pete’s remained a mystery but you know geeks and financial types, adept at deciphering the fine print, whether it’s annual statements or blueprints. Anyone with enough determination and time can check on New York’s underground labyrinth. The more I learned about Allan Barnes, the pattern of deception, dissimulation and disinformation was astounding. Hard to believe the mild techie who stopped in my office too often, ostensibly to shoot the breeze and hit on me, was a ruthless, cold-blooded man with a criminal streak as wide as the Hudson River.

The police had the names of the thugs paid to harass us but so far, they hadn’t been caught. Barnes, Wahr and several politicians were embroiled in the white-collar crime of industrial espionage. They’d planned to auction the prototypes on the world market. I don’t know what countries were bidding for the prototypes. That was classified information and it never leaked out. It was probably something the diplomats would use in future negotiations.

“The captain had me examine the tunnel from Pete’s Tavern to where it connects with the old Meeting House,” Dan said, interrupting my reverie. “I walked through that building. It’s deteriorated, must have been empty a long time.”