sifting through the wreckage of a house consumed by fire, and, inset into it, the face of an elderly man.
I read the accompanying story, sensing that Bruce Tennant would prove to be an old friend of Andrew and Jed Newmark. Fire crews had been summoned to a decrepit flophouse in the Tenderloin district, reacting to reports of smoke billowing from its cellar. Before they could arrive on the scene the ensuing fire had claimed most of the building, and it was only afterwards, while they were searching through the wreckage, that the body of Tennant had been discovered in the cellar. He was burned so badly that it had taken a post mortem examination to confirm his manner of death. It wasn’t the flames but three bullets fired into him at point blank range: two in the heart and one in the head. A police spokesperson gave an official comment, but reading between the lines it was suggested that Tennant – who had recently been released from prison – was known to have made several criminal enemies and that it was possible his past had caught up to him. Maybe they had a point, but I was beginning to think the repercussions came from a past much further back than the police intimated.
I took one last look at the face of Tennant, before lifting my gaze to Yukiko. She had sat without comment, waiting for me to finish. Her mouth opened slightly, but that was all. She looked down at her hands, her chin tilted away from me.
‘I’m taking a guess here,’ I said. ‘Bruce Tennant was a friend of Andrew and Jed?’
Yukiko shook her head. ‘No, he wasn’t a friend. He was just someone they knew once. Someone whose life connected to theirs – to ours – but he was never a friend.’
I frowned. ‘How were they connected?’
‘It is this that I have most trouble admitting to. If I say, then it will become apparent what they did. Then the others will be harmed.’
‘Not if we figure out what’s going on and stop the man responsible.’
‘You’re not listening to me, Joe. Just like Jared, you assume that all problems can be solved by force.’
Her comment stung, but she had a point.
‘The ones I wish to protect face more than the threat of murder. They face imprisonment, ruination, and shame. Not only them, but also their loved ones will suffer. It is to all these families that I owe my silence. Do you understand?’
‘You said that I assume, but now you do, Yukiko. The people you protect are only at risk if the story is made public. Me and Rink aren’t in the habit of talking to the police. What you have to remember is that the same people are in danger from this killer.’ I held up a hand to stop the admonishment I saw building in her. ‘You said that even their families would suffer: they’ll suffer even more if their loved ones are murdered the way the other three were.’
Yukiko nodded, and her eyelids drooped. A single tear ran down her cheek and hung off the side of her jaw. ‘Four,’ she said.
When I didn’t respond, she looked up at me. ‘While at my friend’s house I made a decision and I telephoned those I knew were in danger. Sadly, I was too late to alert one of them. Daniel Lansdale was stabbed to death yesterday evening.’
I tasted bile in my throat. I had to swallow it down, when all I wanted was to snap at Yukiko. If she’d told us what was going on, then maybe we would have been able to save Lansdale. Maybe we would have been able to save Andrew and Jed too.
She must have read the reproof in my face because Yukiko slapped her thigh. The noise caught me unawares, causing me to flinch.
‘When I read about Bruce Tennant, I did not realise what his death meant. It was many years since we last spoke to him; he was not the type of man we wished to keep as a friend.’ She didn’t expound, but I had read that his criminal disposition had ensured he was in and out of prisons most of his adult life. ‘Even when Andrew was murdered I wasn’t sure,’ Yukiko went on. ‘But with Jed’s murder,
I read the accompanying story, sensing that Bruce Tennant would prove to be an old friend of Andrew and Jed Newmark. Fire crews had been summoned to a decrepit flophouse in the Tenderloin district, reacting to reports of smoke billowing from its cellar. Before they could arrive on the scene the ensuing fire had claimed most of the building, and it was only afterwards, while they were searching through the wreckage, that the body of Tennant had been discovered in the cellar. He was burned so badly that it had taken a post mortem examination to confirm his manner of death. It wasn’t the flames but three bullets fired into him at point blank range: two in the heart and one in the head. A police spokesperson gave an official comment, but reading between the lines it was suggested that Tennant – who had recently been released from prison – was known to have made several criminal enemies and that it was possible his past had caught up to him. Maybe they had a point, but I was beginning to think the repercussions came from a past much further back than the police intimated.
I took one last look at the face of Tennant, before lifting my gaze to Yukiko. She had sat without comment, waiting for me to finish. Her mouth opened slightly, but that was all. She looked down at her hands, her chin tilted away from me.
‘I’m taking a guess here,’ I said. ‘Bruce Tennant was a friend of Andrew and Jed?’
Yukiko shook her head. ‘No, he wasn’t a friend. He was just someone they knew once. Someone whose life connected to theirs – to ours – but he was never a friend.’
I frowned. ‘How were they connected?’
‘It is this that I have most trouble admitting to. If I say, then it will become apparent what they did. Then the others will be harmed.’
‘Not if we figure out what’s going on and stop the man responsible.’
‘You’re not listening to me, Joe. Just like Jared, you assume that all problems can be solved by force.’
Her comment stung, but she had a point.
‘The ones I wish to protect face more than the threat of murder. They face imprisonment, ruination, and shame. Not only them, but also their loved ones will suffer. It is to all these families that I owe my silence. Do you understand?’
‘You said that I assume, but now you do, Yukiko. The people you protect are only at risk if the story is made public. Me and Rink aren’t in the habit of talking to the police. What you have to remember is that the same people are in danger from this killer.’ I held up a hand to stop the admonishment I saw building in her. ‘You said that even their families would suffer: they’ll suffer even more if their loved ones are murdered the way the other three were.’
Yukiko nodded, and her eyelids drooped. A single tear ran down her cheek and hung off the side of her jaw. ‘Four,’ she said.
When I didn’t respond, she looked up at me. ‘While at my friend’s house I made a decision and I telephoned those I knew were in danger. Sadly, I was too late to alert one of them. Daniel Lansdale was stabbed to death yesterday evening.’
I tasted bile in my throat. I had to swallow it down, when all I wanted was to snap at Yukiko. If she’d told us what was going on, then maybe we would have been able to save Lansdale. Maybe we would have been able to save Andrew and Jed too.
She must have read the reproof in my face because Yukiko slapped her thigh. The noise caught me unawares, causing me to flinch.
‘When I read about Bruce Tennant, I did not realise what his death meant. It was many years since we last spoke to him; he was not the type of man we wished to keep as a friend.’ She didn’t expound, but I had read that his criminal disposition had ensured he was in and out of prisons most of his adult life. ‘Even when Andrew was murdered I wasn’t sure,’ Yukiko went on. ‘But with Jed’s murder,
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