Toward Night's End (23 page)

Johnstone turned his attention to the doctor’s wife. “Mrs. Nakashima, the day that Mrs. Yasui, if I’m saying that right? Yasui?”

The doctor nodded. “Yasui, yes.”

He surmised that Mrs. Nakashima didn’t speak English very well, but he continued to direct his questions to her. “The day she and her son were injured, I understand a Navy officer like Commander Merrick was there.” Of course, this was simply a guess based on the nurse’s description of what happened in the hospital and that Merrick had worn his service dress blue uniform the entire time he had been at the camp. However, his question once translated by her husband obviously resonated as the woman suddenly looked frightened, glancing at her husband for support. He spoke to her in their native tongue and there was some discussion. Johnstone patiently waited.

When there was a lull in their exchange, Johnstone injected, “Ma’am, if this had anything to do with a Navy officer, or an enlisted man, we need to know. We will arrest the man and he will go to jail.”

More discussion. Finally, the doctor said, “My wife and Mrs. Yasui are close. We were neighbors for years, then she moved, but my wife and Mrs. Yasui they are friends, yes?”

“I understand.”

Another round of Japanese. Again, the doctor spoke. “She was going to visit Mrs. Yasui. See how she was doing in preparing for the evacuation.” Johnstone nodded. “When she went to their home, Mrs. Yasui and her son, she found both in the kitchen. They had been hurt. Their fingers cut.”

“I know.”

“She help clean the fingers, put towels on them, before coming to see me.” The doctor glanced briefly at the commander, then turned back to Johnstone. “She say, then a man…” He nodded to Merrick. “Dressed in Navy uniform, he knock on door. Mrs. Yasui very, very frightened. She and son, they hide in the back. My wife, she answer the door.

“Navy man, he say he needs to see….My wife, her English not so good, yes?”

Johnstone nodded.

The doctor glanced at his wife, then said, “He just walk in. He see the blood. Lots of blood and he upset.”

“Angry?” Johnstone asked in surprise.

The doctor conferred with his wife. Then he said, “Yes. Most upset. He find the cut finger tops. He put them in small paper bag, he leave.” The wife spoke and the doctor nodded, adding, “He was only there a minute or two. Then gone.”

Merrick now looked at Mrs. Nakashima. He pointed to his own name plate above his breast pocket. “He had a name. Written right here.”

After translating, the doctor asked, “You have paper and pencil, she will write it.”

Surprised, Johnstone quickly found a pen in his inside breast pocket and simply handed her both the pen and his file. “Write it on there. Doesn’t matter.”

The husband explained, and the wife carefully started to write, but the file was too thin, too flimsy.

“Here,” offered Private Russo. “Use my back.” He then stood with his back stooped over a bit in front of the older woman, and her husband explained how she was to use the young man’s back for support. Very tentative, she put the file on Russo’s back. And very precisely, very slowly, she began to write.

The husband smiled proudly. “She can’t speak English so well, but she could always write it quite nicely.”

Antsy, Johnstone leaned forward to peek at what she was writing. It was some sort of drawing. He forced himself to not crowd her. Finally, she handed him both the file and pen with a slight bow.

Merrick and Johnstone looked at the file. Very clearly she had written the word
Preston
and then there was some sort of symbol.

“Petty Officer Preston,” Merrick announced. He saw Johnstone’s puzzled look, and pointed to the drawing showing an eagle, the wings spread and two chevrons underneath. “He’s a petty officer, second class.”

Johnstone then turned back to the Nakashimas. “Thank you. I promise you, this man will be arrested. Thank you.” He started to leave, then turned back. “Mrs. Yasui’s son has an infection. Where the finger was cut. It is safe to go to the hospital. He needs to get it properly looked after and get on some antibiotics.”

If Dr. Nakashima was surprised by his knowledge, he didn’t show it. He and his wife simply watched as the private, the commander and the detective walked away.

Dear Mr. Porter,

As you must know, I never got on the ferry with my family on March 30th. On that day, I was also unable to return your truck to you, and I can only hope that it has been returned by now. I write the following with a heavy heart and the hope that you will forgive me for not returning your truck as promised, and that you will help right a most terrible wrong.

It all started last January. As you may recall, I had been using your truck to transport my catch from the island to various markets in Seattle since the previous November. Although, truthfully, I never enjoyed my occupation, it provided a fair income, and I attempted to undertake my duties with due diligence.

However, last November my life greatly changed when I met a fellow Japanese-American named Sean Kanagawa...

A loud clap of thunder startled Matthew. He stopped writing and looked out the window, which was streaked with rain. Sitting behind the desk that faced the large picture window, he watched the activity across the street. There were scores of Navy seaman and a few civilians scurrying for cover. In the distance he could still see the huge Navy destroyer, the
USS North Carolina
that was berthed at the pier. On the other side was the
Ancient Mariner
, still being unloaded. He tried to see Kite, but knew he wouldn’t be able to make out the men’s faces from this distance.

Matthew stood up and instantly felt weak and dizzy. His lack of stamina frustrated him greatly, but Kite insisted he was making good progress considering how ill he had been. Before dawn, the
Ancient Mariner
had docked, and Kite had helped him to the one-room apartment that he had rented for the week. Matthew insisted that he would leave when Kite departed on the
Ancient Mariner
in three days’ time, but the old man had insisted that Matthew keep the apartment and regain his strength.

Kite had explained that they were in Wilmington – a part of Los Angeles. The tiny apartment provided an ideal location since Matthew wanted to be on the Navy ship when she embarked, which Kite had learned would be in four days. Kite had also discovered that a Navy recruitment office was just a block away. That gave Matthew two goals: one, explain to Mr. Porter everything that had happened, including his role in Carsteen’s death, with the hope that Mr. Porter could finish what Matthew and Tom could not; two, make it to the recruitment office and sign up.

He read the letter he had started to Porter. He wanted to finish it while Kite was out, but whatever strength he had mustered was now gone. He carefully folded it and tucked it inside his shirt. Then he stretched out on the wobbly bed. The pouring rain actually sounded good to him. He promised himself he would finish the letter in an hour or two. Right now, he just needed to rest.

Detective Johnstone prided himself in having nerves of steel. A few years back, a co-worker had dubbed him “Mr. Calm,” since he rarely showed any signs of anxiety, even in dire situations. But right now, he was extremely nervous, pacing outside the hospital’s entrance, twisting the brim of his fedora in his hands. The door opened and he quickly looked in that direction. It was an older Japanese-American man exiting. Johnstone turned away and resumed pacing. He was lost in his own world when he heard, “Mr. Johnstone.”

He turned. Betty Clanton was approaching with a slight smile. In the sunlight, he noticed that her auburn hair shone more brilliantly than inside the mess hall, her face more delicate and to him, very beautiful. “I’m sorry to bother you,” he immediately stammered.

Betty smiled. “It’s fine.” She glanced back at the hospital. “Quiet today. Just the usual with the Manzanar runs.” Noticing his puzzled expression, she said, “Quite a number of people with loose bowels. Change in diet, I suspect, although if it continues, the doctors will have to re-think their treatment.”

Johnstone nodded. This wasn’t going as planned. He certainly didn’t want to discuss diarrhea problems. Regrouping a bit, he smiled. “I wanted to thank you. What you shared with the commander and me, it was very important.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, good. I’m glad.”

An awkward silence followed. Then Johnstone rushed on, “It could be pivotal to my investigation. So I wanted to thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.”

Johnstone told himself he had to get on with it, not just gaze at her, so he quickly said, “I was thinking. If you come back…to Washington. Once you’re done here…Well, I would like to take you to dinner. As a thank you.” He cringed to himself. He sounded like a complete idiot.

But Betty was smiling and nodding her head. “I’d like that.”

“You would?” he asked, clearly surprised. Then he realized again how stupid he sounded and reached for his billfold. “Here. My card.” He had already written his home address and phone number on the back of the card. He handed it to her. She took it, their fingers briefly touching and she studied the card.

“Thank you,” she said, looking a trifle embarrassed now.

“My home address and phone number are on the back.”

She turned it over to see his information neatly written. Then she looked up with a frown. “My aunt passed right before I got assigned here.” She noticed the puzzled look again and explained, “She raised me. In Redmond.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I want to go home. I mean, where else would I go? It’s just that I’m not sure yet. I had a girlfriend, and we were going to get an apartment together, but she just wrote to me. She’s getting married. So…” She glanced back at the hospital. “My salary here isn’t great, but—”

“You could stay with my sister,” Johnstone abruptly blurted out. He quickly added, “She lives in Seattle. Married. But their home has a guest room, and I know she’d be more than happy to have you.”

Betty hesitated. “I’m not sure ”

“Please,” Johnstone said. “You have a home if you want it.” Then he shrugged. “If you want to come back to the Redmond area, you’ll have a home in Seattle.”

She paused again, then said, “I would pay room and board.”

“Of course, of course.” He saw her look at something over his shoulder and turned to see Merrick waiting at a respectful distance.

Another smile now. “Well, thank you. Thank you.”

“I can write to you?” Johnstone hurriedly asked. “Here? Send it here?”

“Just put it in care of Manzanar Hospital. I’ll get it.” she said, nodding her head.

Johnstone stiffly nodded. “I will then. I’ll write to you.”

“That would be nice.”

Johnstone glanced at Merrick. “I’m afraid I have to go.”

Another awkward moment, then she said, “I’m glad I helped you, Detective.” She offered her right hand and he took it.

“I’ll write to you.”

“Okay.”

With that Johnstone let go of her soft hand. He quickly turned away, put his hat on his head, and walked toward Merrick. “Find the guy?”

Merrick nodded as they walked together. “Right there at the same base as Carsteen.”

“We don’t know how high this goes,” Johnstone reminded him. “I hope you didn’t tip him off when you got this information.”

Merrick shook his head. “I made some calls to Washington.” He saw Johnstone’s startled reaction and laughed, adding, “D.C. Washington, D.C. If this goes that far up the flag pole, God help us.” He glanced behind him toward the hospital. “So, what was that all about?”

Matthew’s legs felt like wet noodles. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand before collapsing. He looked around for a place to sit down, but there was nothing. They were standing in an alley and the pavement was still damp and puddled from the recent rains. At least the rain of the past two days had stopped. He stepped out of line and looked at the scores of young men lined up in front of him. At least fifty people that he could see before the line snaked around the corner at a right angle. He knew that the U.S. Navy recruitment office was about twenty yards from the corner.

“Ah, geez, lad, what are you thinkin’?” came a voice behind him. All the men turned to see Kite making his way toward Matthew. The old man took Matthew by the arm. “Come on, lad.”

“No,” Matthew insisted, pulling his arm away. “I’ve been here for an hour already.”

“Come on now, we’ll get you in there.” Kite again took his arm.

“I can’t cut in front of them,” Matthew whispered frantically to Kite.

“Geez, lad. How long you good for then?” Kite studied Matthew who didn’t answer. “Another hour? Maybe two? Look at the line.”

“I have,” Matthew hissed.

“Come on, lad.” When he tried to take Matthew by the arm and Matthew angrily pulled away again, Kite just started laughing. “Geez, lad. You’re fightin’ the wrong man, eh? I’m on your side? Now let’s go.”

His stamina zapped, Matthew gave in and let Kite pull him out of the line. He was angry with himself that he couldn’t stand in an alley for a few hours, or whatever it took, to get himself enlisted. He was surprised when Kite led him around the long line and right to the open door of the U.S. Navy recruitment office.

“Excuse us, excuse us, please,” Kite said, pushing his way to the door and keeping a firm hand on Matthew’s arm.

“Hey! You cut in line I’ll bust you!” a large man said, pushing Kite away.

But Kite stepped forward, completely unfazed. Then, with a small smile, he said, “This lad’s already enlisted, okay? They lost one stupid piece of paper and they said to come back.” Staring down the hefty man, Kite continued, “They said not to wait in line. Now do you want to call out one of those officers in there to verify what I’m saying, or you gonna let us pass?”