“Yes.” And I understood what that strip meant: there had been another picture on top of this one. The edge of this picture had stuck out, and was sun-faded. “The overlying picture has been removed.”

“Yes,” Connor said.

“The apartment has been searched.”

“Yes,” Connor said. “A very thorough job. They came in earlier tonight, took Polaroids, searched the rooms, and then put things back the way they were. But it’s impossible to do that exactly. The Japanese say artlessness is the most difficult art. And these men can’t help themselves, they’re obsessive. So they leave the picture frames a little too squared-off on the counter, and the perfume bottles a little too carefully cluttered. Everything is a little forced. Your eye can see it even if your brain doesn’t register it.”

I said, “But why search the room? What pictures did they remove? Her with the killer?”

“That’s not clear,” Connor said. “Evidently her association with Japan, and with Japanese men, was not objectionable. But there was something they had to get right away, and it can only be—”

Then, from the living room, a tentative voice said, “Lynn? Honey? You here?”

She was silhouetted in the doorway, looking in. Barefooted, wearing shorts and a tank top. I couldn’t see her face well, but she was obviously what my old partner Anderson would call a snake charmer.

Connor showed his badge. She said her name was Julia Young. She had a Southern accent, and a slight slur to her speech. Connor turned on the light and we could see her better. She was a beautiful girl. She came into the room hesitantly.

“I heard the music—is she here? Is Cherylynn okay? I know she went to that party tonight.”

“I haven’t heard anything,” Connor said, with a quick glance at me. “Do you know Cherylynn?”

“Well, sure. I live right across the hall, in number eight. Why is everybody in her room?”

“Everybody?”

“Well, you two. And the two Japanese guys.”

“When were they here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe half an hour ago. Is it something about Cherylynn?”

I said, “Did you get a look at the men, Miss Young?” I was thinking she might have been looking out of the peephole of her door.

“Well, I guess. I said hello to them.”

“How’s that?”

“I know one of them pretty well. Eddie.”

“Eddie?”

“Eddie Sakamura. We all know Eddie. Fast Eddie.”

I said, “Can you describe him?”

She gave me a funny look. “He’s the guy in the pictures—the young guy with the scar on his hand. I thought everybody knew Eddie Sakamura. He’s in the newspaper all the time. Charities and stuff. He’s a big party guy.”

I said, “Do you have any idea how I could find him?”

Connor said, “Eddie Sakamura is part owner of a Polynesian restaurant in Beverly Hills called Bora Bora. He hangs out there.”

“That’s him,” Julia said. “That place is like his office. I can’t stand it myself, it’s too noisy. But Eddie’s just running around, chasing those big blondes. He loves to look up to a girl.”

She leaned against a table, and pushed her full brown hair back from her face seductively. She looked at me and gave a little pout. “You two guys partners?”

“Yes,” I said.

“He showed me his badge. But you didn’t show me yours.”

I took out my wallet. She looked at it. “Peter,” she said, reading. “My very first boyfriend was named Peter. But he wasn’t as handsome as you.” She smiled at me.

Connor cleared his throat and said, “Have you been in Cherylynn’s apartment before?”

“Well, I guess. I live right across the way. But she hasn’t been in town much lately. Seems like she’s always traveling.”

“Traveling where?”

“All over. New York, Washington, Seattle, Chicago… all over. She has this boyfriend who travels a lot. She meets him. Actually I think she just meets him when his wife isn’t around.”

“This boyfriend is married?”

“Well, there’s something in the way. You know. Obstructing.”

“Do you know who he is?”

“No. She once said he’d never come to her apartment. He’s some big important guy. Real rich. They send the jet for her, and off she goes. Whoever he is, he drives Eddie crazy. But Eddie is the jealous type, you know. Got to be iro otoko to all the girls. The sexy lover.”

Connor said, “Is Cheryl’s relationship a secret? With this boyfriend?”

“I don’t know. I never thought it was. It’s just real intense. She’s madly in love with the guy.”

“She’s madly in love?”

“You can’t imagine. I’ve seen her drop everything to run and meet him. One night she comes over, gives me two tickets to the Springsteen concert, but she’s all excited because she’s going to Detroit. She’s got her little carry-on in her hand. She’s got her little nice-girl dress on. Because he just called ten minutes ago and said, ‘Meet me.’ Her face all bright, she looks about five years old. I don’t know why she can’t figure it out.”

“Figure what out?”

“This guy is just using her.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Cherylynn is beautiful, and real sophisticated-looking. She’s worked all over the world as a model, mostly in Asia. But deep down she’s a small-town girl. I mean, Midland is an oil town, there’s lots of money, but it’s still a small town. And Cherylynn wants the ring on the finger and the kids and the dog in the yard. And this guy isn’t going to do it. She hasn’t figured it out.”

I said, “But you don’t know who this man is?”

“No, I don’t.” A sly look crossed her face. She shifted her body, dropping one shoulder so her breasts thrust forward. “But you’re not really here because of some old boyfriend, are you?”

Connor nodded. “Not really, no.”

Julia smiled in a knowing way. “It’s Eddie, isn’t it?”

“Umm,” Connor said.

“I knew it,” she said. “I knew he’d get in trouble sooner or later. We all talked about it, all the girls here in the Arms.” She made a vague gesture. “Because he’s just going too fast. Fast Eddie. You wouldn’t think he was Japanese. He’s so flashy.”

Connor said, “He’s from Osaka?”

“His father’s a big industrialist there, with Daimatsu. He’s a nice old guy. When he comes over to visit, sometimes he sees one of the girls on the second floor. And Eddie. Eddie was supposed to get educated here for a few years, then go home to work for the kaisha, the company. But he won’t go home. He loves it here. Why not? He’s got everything. He buys a new Ferrari every time he bangs up the old one. He’s got more money than God. He’s lived here long enough, he’s just like an American. Handsome. Sexy. And with all the drugs. You know, real party animal. What’s in Osaka for him?”

I said, “But you said you always knew…”

“That he’d get in trouble? Sure. Because of that crazy side. That edge.” She shrugged. “A lot of them have it. These guys come over from Tokyo, and even if they have a shōkai, an introduction, you still have to be careful. They think nothing of dropping ten or twenty thousand in a night. It’s like a tip for them. Leave it on the dresser. But then, what they want to do—at least, some of them…”

She drifted into silence. Her eyes had a vacant, unfocused look. I didn’t say anything, I just waited. Connor was looking at her, nodding sympathetically.

Abruptly, she began to speak again, as if unaware of the pause. “And to them,” she said, “their wishes, their desires, it’s just as natural as leaving the tip. It’s completely natural to them. I mean, I don’t mind a little golden shower or whatever, handcuffs, you know. Maybe a little spanking if I like the guy. But I won’t let anybody cut me. I don’t care how much money. None of those things with knives or swords… But they can be… A lot of them, they are so polite, so correct, but then they get turned on, they have this… this way…” She broke off, shaking her head. “They’re strange people.”