Chapter 14
Becker
gazed down at the cadaver.
Even hours after death,
the Asian’s face radiated
with a pinkish glow of a recent sunburn. The rest of him was a pale yellow–all except the small area of purplish
bruising directly over his heart.
Probably from the
CPR, Becker mused. Too bad it
didn’t work.
He went back to studying the cadaver’s
hands. They were like nothing Becker had ever seen. Each hand had only three digits,
and they were twisted
and askew. The disfigurement, however, was
not what Becker was looking at.
“Well, I’ll be.”
The lieutenant grunted from across the room. “He’s Japanese, not Chinese.”
Becker looked up. The officer was thumbing through the dead man’s passport. “I’d rather you didn’t
look at that,” Becker requested. Touch
nothing. Read nothing.
“Ensei Tankado…
born January–”
“Please,”
Becker said politely. “Put it back.”
The officer stared at the passport a moment longer and then tossed it back on the pile. “This guy’s got a class-3 visa. He
could have stayed here for years.”
Becker poked at the victim’s hand with
a pen. “Maybe he lived
here.” “Nope. Date of entry was last
week.”
“Maybe he
was moving here,” Becker
offered curtly.
“Yeah, maybe.
Crummy first week. Sunstroke
and a heart attack.
Poor bastard.”
Becker ignored
the officer and studied the hand. “You’re positive
he wasn’t wearing any jewelry
when he died?”
The officer looked up, startled. “Jewelry?” “Yeah. Take a look at this.”
The officer crossed the room.
The skin on Tankado’s
left hand showed traces of sunburn, everywhere except a narrow band of
flesh around the smallest finger.
Becker pointed
to the strip of pale flesh.
“See how this isn’t sunburned here? Looks like he was
wearing a ring.”
The officer
seemed surprised. “A ring?” His voice sounded suddenly
perplexed. He studied
the corpse’s finger.
Then he flushed sheepishly. “My God.” He chuckled.
“The story was
true?”
Becker had a sudden sinking feeling.
“I beg your pardon?”
The officer shook his head in disbelief. “I
would have mentioned it before… but I
thought the guy was
nuts.”
Becker was not smiling. “What guy?”
“The guy who phoned in the emergency. Some Canadian
tourist. Kept talking about a ring.
Babbling
in the worst damn Spanish I ever heard.” “He
said Mr. Tankado was wearing a
ring?”
The officer
nodded. He pulled out a Ducado cigarette, eyed the no fumar sign, and lit up anyway. “Guess I should have
said something, but the guy sounded
totally loco.”
Becker frowned.
Strathmore’s words echoed in his ears. I want everything Ensei Tankado had with
him. Everything. Leave
nothing. Not even a tiny scrap
of paper.
“Where is the ring now?” Becker
asked. The officer took a puff. “Long story.”
Something told Becker this
was not good
news. “Tell me anyway.”
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