Toward Night's End (22 page)

“Betty Clanton. But I’m not a nurse. Not yet, anyway.” She saw the baffled looks and explained, “We get our degrees faster if we agree to come here to work. And it’s great training. We see just about everything.”

“Where are you from?” Johnstone asked.

“Redmond.”

“That so?” Johnstone replied, surprised. Redmond was very close to Seattle. He had noticed her striking auburn hair and green eyes, yet he now realized she probably wouldn’t quite be described as a beauty. However, in his eyes, she was quite attractive. “Not hungry?”

“I’ve eaten, thank you.” She sat quietly for a moment, then said, “And I know who you are.” She saw their rather surprised looks and laughed. “Well, not your names. But we don’t get a lot of Navy commanders and police detectives here.” She glanced at Johnstone. “I heard you were from Seattle, and that’s practically home to me.”

“You’ve made an impression,” Merrick quipped to Johnstone.

Betty looked a bit embarrassed and covered it by glancing at the two other men at the end of their long table. Not talking. Nor paying any attention to them. Then she said quietly, “I know why you’re here and—”

“And why is that?” Johnstone questioned, his voice harsher than need be.

“There is a man missing. That should be here. In the camp.” She continued, adding quickly, “I just thought I should pass something on.”

“Okay,” Johnstone said, trying to keep his tone lighter. “Please do.”

“Today a mother brought in her young son. Both have terrible finger injuries.” She stopped as Merrick and Johnstone exchanged looks. “We were in the first aid area of the hospital?”

She said it as more of a question than a statement, so Johnstone nodded and said, “Off to the left when you come through the front doors.” He remembered seeing the area. There were no curtains, so no privacy for anyone seeking treatment.

Betty nodded. “Exactly. There were two women, actually. The mother and the boy and an older woman.”

“Probably the grandmother,” Merrick said.

Betty nodded. “That’s what I thought. All I know is that she was watching me very carefully. Maybe she’s a nurse. I don’t know.”

Johnstone raised an eyebrow. “Can you describe her, please?”

“Well, older. Gray hair. And the most beautiful red silk scarf. Just gorgeous.” She suddenly seemed embarrassed by the description. “Sorry, it was just so beautiful.”

“No, no, that’s fine,” Johnstone said encouraging. “Wearing it over one shoulder?”

“Yes!” Betty exclaimed. “How’d you know that?”

Johnstone noticed Merrick give him a surprised look too, and waved them both off with a hand, saying, “Go on, please.”

“They came in because the boy had his finger cut, I mean it was cut right off. The tip,” Betty noticed the men exchange glances and quickly went on. “Not here. It didn’t happen here. But now it’s starting to get infected.”

“You treated him?” Johnstone asked.

“Well, a doctor has to supervise. But yes, he told me to redress it. The stitches are holding. I had to clean it real well, put iodine on it, then redress it. And the boy will have to take some antibiotics. For the infection.”

Johnstone nodded. “Go on,” he repeated.

Betty shrugged. “It was just so very odd. See, I took off the old bandage. Got it clean and got some iodine on the wound. He can speak perfect English, so I was explaining everything. You see, I wanted to make him comfortable. I asked him how it happened. The injury.”

“What did he say?”

“He wouldn’t answer.”

Johnstone shrugged. “Not sure that’s so odd. In their culture—”

“No, no,” Betty interrupted. “It wasn’t that. I got out the dressing to put a new bandage on and then you gentlemen walked past.” She waited a moment, then said, “And the boy, oh my, he was just so upset. He screamed something in Japanese, then he just took off. His mother was frantically calling after him, but he was gone. I mean, gone.”

Again, Johnstone and Merrick exchanged looks. She went on, explaining, “And the older woman? She was also very upset. She stared and stared.” Betty actually shuddered. “As if looks could kill. Then she left too.”

“The boy ever come back?” Merrick asked. “Later? Get his hand looked at?”

“Not when I was on duty,” Betty said. “I’m off at three this week. So maybe he came back, but he was just so upset.” She gave a sheepish shrug. “I just thought it was very strange and I should pass it along, like I said. Since he had such a reaction like that.”

Johnstone nodded. He glanced at her left hand, wrapped around the coffee cup. No ring on her finger. He wanted to ask when she might return to Redmond. Instead, he said, “I met the boy and his mother a few days before their evacuation. On a different matter. I’m sorry he saw me. I wish him no harm, of course.”

Betty frowned. “No, not you.” She turned to Merrick. “He was looking at you, Commander. He was staring at you the entire time. You’re the one that upset him.”

Johnstone looked to Merrick. That didn’t make sense. Merrick had not been with him when he questioned the woman and her son. It didn’t make any sense at all.

***

For Kumiko the latrines were the most humiliating aspect of the entire camp. For some reason, before they had left the island, she had pictured such accommodations as having a private bathroom, much like that found in any house across the nation, although shared by perhaps half a dozen people or so. But one where she could close the door and ensure some privacy. She would have never been able to imagine this – quite simply, she didn’t have the imagination to envision such a large, open and very public, room. A long stainless steel sink was attached to one wall, with several spigots for running water. At least there were spigots for hot water. That had been considerate of the U.S. Army.

But when it came to the toilets, there was no consideration whatsoever. The center of the room held a dozen toilets, six to a row, very, very close together, back to back with another six toilets. There was no door, of course. No curtain to pull for privacy. Nothing of the kind. Instead, when you sat on the commode you were all but touching the person using the one next to you, and you could be back-to-back with another woman. Their very private business and routine exposed to everyone else. It didn’t help that the ventilation system was quite poor. Or perhaps, there wasn’t one. Or one that worked.

Under normal circumstances, using a toilet this way was quite demeaning in and of itself. But now Kumiko was experiencing what many called “The Manzanar Runs.” Diarrhea. She had no idea if the cause was due to the terrible food, so few fresh fruits and vegetables, no rice whatsoever, or if it was some illness going around the camp.

One comfort was that no one talked while using the commode. Each woman averted her eyes, which usually meant staring at the floor in front of you. The only time there was some talk was if you didn’t have any paper to clean with. Then you would politely ask and usually someone handed you some paper.

Kumiko wondered if she went to the first aid center at the hospital if they might have medicine for her ailment. Of course, that would be humiliating too. Go to a stranger, explain your problem, and then what? She was thankful for one thing. So far, Ido did not have the curse. She couldn’t even picture him hurrying to find his latrine and getting there in time. How did he even find the toilets, she wondered? Then she remembered that Daniel usually went with him. But now Daniel was in the hospital.

Kumiko glanced around. As usual, no one was even looking in her direction. It was time. She carefully removed the shredded paper from her jacket pocket, concealing it in her fist. Part of her had wanted to keep Julia’s crude drawing. Back in their barracks after dark, Ido had asked Julia to draw what Matthew had drawn. Under their single, dim light bulb, she had done her best. Then Kumiko took the drawing and sat next to Ido on his cot. She described the four wheels. The poles connecting the wheels, which Ido said were axles. Then the other spokes. She described each segment, its size compared to the wheels or the axles.

“No seat?” Ido asked.

“No, Papa. No seat.”

“Nothing in the front? A blade or scoop?”

“No, Papa.”

Ido had mulled this over for some time. She asked, “Is it a tractor?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?” Kumiko asked, very perplexed.

“I don’t know,” he finally whispered. A moment later, he said, “Be done with it.”

“Papa?”

“I have it here,” he said, tapping his head. “Be done with it. No one should see it.”

Then she understood. In the privacy of their section, she had ripped the paper, in half, in half again, and again. Until only tiny, tiny fragments remained. Then she placed them in the pocket of her light jacket. And she left for the latrine. Only, on the way there, as if her bowels knew exactly where she was going, she was struck with an unexpected, dire urgency. The diarrhea that first struck that morning had come upon her again.

Very carefully now, she spread her legs a bit, put her hand between her legs, and let go of the tiny pieces of paper. A few minutes later, satisfied she was finally finished, she cleaned herself and flushed the toilet. All evidence of the drawing, along with her foul waste, was now gone.

The three Americans walked along a row of barracks, catching the eyes of many interned Japanese. If nothing else, Commander Merrick’s service dress blue uniform stood out. Johnstone looked equally out of place in his suit, hat and carrying his sole file.

“The name of the injured woman is Hikoshi Yasui.”

Johnstone glanced at Merrick who was reading out loud from some papers he held in his hand. “Yasui?”

Merrick shrugged. “I think, anyway. Son is Christopher. Nine years old.”

“And the others?”

“Her name is Hikoshi Nakashima. Sixty-three years old. She’s Issei.”

“She’s what?” he asked.

“Issei means she was born in Japan,” explained Private Russo who had been assigned to assist Commander Merrick and Detective Johnstone and kept just a step ahead of them. The young private seemed to know the layout of the camp like the back of his hand, and Johnstone was grateful to have the help. He and Merrick knew the administrative offices, the hospital, their own quarters and the staff mess hall. Not much else. Without the private’s guidance, he knew he and the commander would’ve never been able to find their way among the hundreds of barracks lined up one after another for as far as the eye could see.

“Her husband is a Nisei,” continued Merrick.

“Means he was born here.” Johnstone offered.

“Right,” Merrick confirmed. “Name’s James. James Nakashima. Doctor.”

Johnstone nodded. They started walking again, passing a group of boisterous kids playing soccer with a large empty tomato can.

Merrick continued to read. “The Japanese doctor said his wife often assists him in his practice and they volunteered to work in the hospital.”

“Let me guess,” Johnstone scoffed. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“No, they can. But he’s old. So I think they were encouraged to work in the farming areas, the chickens, the mess halls, cleaning the latrines, that sort of thing.”

“How incredibly stupid,” Johnstone replied with scorn. He abruptly stopped in his tracks, putting a hand on Merrick’s arm. “Just a minute.” Merrick and Russo stopped walking and followed his look.

The woman and her boy were approaching a nearby barracks. The first thing Johnstone noticed was that the boy’s left hand was covered in a thick, tan cloth. His guess was that once they had left the hospital, they had bandaged the finger themselves with a cut shirt. Perhaps Dr. Nakashima did it, using whatever was at hand since he didn’t have the items he would have in his surgery. The mother’s hand had a white bandage which looked much better than her son’s.

The mother held her son’s bandaged hand in her right hand. Looking down at him with a soft smile, she said something, then playfully raised his injured hand to her mouth. She kissed the bandages. Then she lowered his hand down by his side, still holding on. Again, she said something they couldn’t hear, then raising his hand, she kissed his dressed fingers again. This time he giggled happily.

Then she looked up, as if sensing that people were watching her. Seeing Johnstone and Commander Merrick, her sweet smile instantly vanished. She stared at both of them for a moment, then she lowered her head and quickly headed toward the barracks entrance where numerous pairs of shoes were neatly lined up.

“Aw, dammit to hell,” Johnstone remarked bitterly.

“I’ll get her,” Private Russo offered, a bit too eagerly. Johnstone looked at the young man, who continued, “If you need to talk to her, I can make her come out. The rules clearly state that if—”

Johnstone waved him off. “No, no. Let them be. I think I’ve caused them enough sorrow.”

Private Russo glanced at Merrick, who said, “Just take us to Dr. Nakashima.”

The private shrugged. “Same barracks.”

“Ask the doctor to come outside,” Johnstone said. The private nodded and hurried off. The detective gave Merrick a shrug. “No point ruining everyone’s day.”

A few minutes later the elderly Nakashima stepped outside, accompanied by his wife. Johnstone thought the doctor looked older than he had when they first met. He walked a bit stooped over, as if the burden of camp life was already taking its toll. His wife wore a knee-length skirt, simple blouse, and the red scarf over her right shoulder. Like the other barracks residents, they had left their shoes outside the door and probably due to their age, it took them a few minutes to put them on. Only then did Private Russo direct them to Johnstone and Merrick.

Johnstone gave them a respectful half bow. “Dr. and Mrs. Nakashima.”

Ever polite, they did the same in return. Then Johnstone motioned to Merrick and said, “This is Commander Merrick, United States Navy. He is helping me investigate the murder of Sean Kanagawa.”

Merrick nodded his head with a tight smile. He noticed the woman’s unease and glanced at Johnstone. The detective had seen it too.