The Map of Stars, page 19
“Cool beans,” he said. “You came to the right place.”
“I hope so,” said Tess.
“Speaking of justice,” said Detective Clarkson, “did you hear any more about that woman who pushed you off the ferry, Jaime?”
Jaime pulled off the strap of Tess’s messenger bag and put the bag on the floor between them. “Some people came to show me pictures, but I didn’t recognize any of them.”
“Huh,” said Detective Clarkson. “That’s too bad. I’m sure the guys on the case won’t stop looking, though. Did you want to check in with them today?”
“Maybe later,” said Jaime. “I’m more interested in learning about what you do every day.”
“You’re one tough cookie, aren’t you?” Detective Clarkson said, sipping his coffee. “If someone pushed me off a boat, I wouldn’t be thinking about anything else.”
“I’m not so tough,” Jaime said. “I mean, I don’t want to tell my grandmother that I waited until the last minute to do this project.”
Tess’s mom and Detective Clarkson laughed. To Clarkson, Tess’s mom said, “Okay, so if nothing new has come up overnight, I’m going to take the kids on a tour.”
“About that,” Detective Clarkson began.
At that moment, the once-noisy room hushed. A gorgeous Asian woman dressed in black—black dress, black heels, black sunglasses, black scarf streaming behind her like a trail of smoke—tacked through the sea of desks, followed by four men in black suits. The woman and her entourage stopped in front of Tess’s mom’s corner desk. “Hello, Detectives,” she said in a warm voice. “It seems that you can’t get enough of me. This is the second time you’ve requested my company?”
“I thought we agreed on tomorrow,” said Tess’s mom.
“I like to be spontaneous,” said the woman.
Once more, Tess’s mouth was faster than her brain. “Is that . . . are you . . . ?”
The woman removed her sunglasses, revealing beautiful dark eyes. “It is, and I am.”
“Kids,” said Tess’s mother, “meet Lora Yoshida.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Theo
Theo willed his sister not to blurt anything that might hint at the real reason they were at the Tombs.
And she didn’t. Instead, she blurted, “You were married to Darnell Slant! Mom, I thought you said you were going to arrest—”
Theo elbowed her, hard.
Tess rubbed her arm and mumbled, “How could a person marry a man like that?”
Lora Yoshida’s smile didn’t waver. “Some of us make mistakes when we’re young.”
“Terrible mistakes!” Tess said.
“Yes,” said Lora Yoshida. “Terrible mistakes that one must spend years, perhaps even a lifetime, atoning for. I certainly hope you don’t make those kinds of mistakes, Ms. . . . ?”
Tess rubbed her shoulder as if she’d been stung. “Biedermann. My name is Tess Biedermann.”
Lora Yoshida shook Tess’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Biedermann.” She looked at Theo’s mom. “This is your daughter? What a lovely girl.” She seemed to mean it. Then she turned to Theo. “And you are a Biedermann as well?”
“Theo,” croaked Theo, his tongue fumbling over his own name.
“Theo,” Lora Yoshida repeated. “You have truly spectacular hair.”
“Uh,” said Theo, “huh.” Lora Yoshida was very beautiful and smelled like something perfumey and sweet. When she shook his hand, her fingers were long and slim. He wondered if she played the piano.
“Do you play the piano?” he asked.
“I think my brother means ‘thank you,’” said Tess. “And maybe ‘nice to meet you.’”
“Of course he does,” said Lora Yoshida.
“Jaime Cruz,” said Jaime when Lora Yoshida offered her hand to him.
“Lovely to meet you as well, Mr. Cruz,” said Lora Yoshida.
“We’re doing a project on justice,” Theo offered, for no particular reason he could understand.
“Well, that’s wonderful,” said Lora Yoshida. “And you’ve come to the police station to see justice in action, I take it?” Her expression was filled with amusement. She tucked her glasses into her large handbag. “Perhaps you would like to sit in on my latest interview?”
“Yes!” Theo practically shouted.
“No!” said the army of suited men with Lora Yoshida.
Lora Yoshida waved her hand at the men. “Oh, what could it hurt? You’ll all be watching. And maybe the children will learn something. What do you say, Detective Biedermann? Care to make it a party?”
Theo’s mom considered Lora Yoshida for a long while and then said. “If you don’t mind, then I don’t mind. I’ll take you to the interview room.”
Lora Yoshida flipped her scarf over her shoulder. “Oh, allow me. I know the way.”
As the group of them filed into the interview room, led by the twins’ mom, Detective Clarkson muttered, “I don’t know what the cream sauce is going on, but I don’t like this.”
“What’s not to like?” said Lora Yoshida. She and her people—lawyers, Theo supposed—sat on one side of a long table, and Theo’s mom and Detective Clarkson sat on the other. Theo, Tess, and Jaime took chairs at one end of the table and tried to make themselves invisible. It didn’t work. Lora Yoshida beamed at them.
“It does feel like a party. Except there are no hors d’oeuvres. One does enjoy a snack in the morning. Perhaps some caviar on toast.”
“Sorry,” said Theo’s mom. “No caviar here, though I could get you some potato chips and a soda from the vending machines.”
“No, thank you, Detective,” said Lora Yoshida. “Well, shall we get started? What would you like to ask me about today?”
Theo’s mom opened a file folder and leafed through it. “As you already know, your ex-husband—”
“Ugh. Please don’t call him that.” Lora Yoshida shuddered.
“No problem,” said Theo’s mom. “Mr. Darnell Slant has claimed that you stole a certain necklace belonging to his mother.”
“Mr. Slant doesn’t have a mother. Mr. Slant crawled out from under a rock,” said Lora Yoshida.
“Lora,” said one of the suited men.
“Oh, I forgot. Allegedly. Allegedly, Mr. Slant crawled out from under a rock. In my humble opinion.”
“Ms. Yoshida,” said Detective Clarkson, “it would help if you took this seriously.”
“I am deadly serious,” said Lora Yoshida.
“As I was saying,” Theo’s mom cut in, “Mr. Slant claimed you stole a necklace belonging to him.”
“However could I do that?” Lora Yoshida said. “Mr. Slant owns properties all over the city and probably has vaults in all of them. I don’t know how to break into vaults, Detective.”
Theo’s mom removed a photo from the file. “This photo is a still taken from a surveillance camera at the Starr Hotel.”
“You mean the Slant Hotel?” said Lora Yoshida, the smile falling from her face. “Or has he not yet renamed the latest priceless antique building he purchased?”
His mom’s expression didn’t change. “Is this you, Ms. Yoshida?” She slid the photo across the table.
Lora Yoshida studied the photo. “I can’t say it is.”
“You can’t say, or you won’t say?”
“Same difference,” said Lora Yoshida. “This person, whoever it is, needs a stylist. No one wears a unitard these days. It’s ridiculous. You might as well scream, ‘I’m a cat burglar!’ No subtlety at all.” She nudged the photo with a fingertip, as if the bad styling might catch.
Theo’s mom pulled another photo from the file. “Do you recognize this?”
Lora Yoshida took the second picture. “This appears to be a necklace.”
“Do you recognize it?”
Lora Yoshida slid the picture back to Theo’s mom. “It looks cheap.”
“Apparently, it has a lot of sentimental value to Mr. Slant,” said his mom.
“One would have to have a heart in order for something to have sentimental value,” Lora Yoshida said. “Darnell Slant doesn’t have a heart. Allegedly.”
“He doesn’t have a necklace, either,” said Detective Clarkson.
“The poor dear,” said Lora Yoshida. “He can buy a new one.”
“Have you seen this necklace before?” said Theo’s mom.
“I can’t say,” said Lora Yoshida.
Theo’s mom sighed and put both pictures back into her file. “I need another cup of coffee. Would you like anything, Ms. Yoshida?”
“No, thank you, Detective Biedermann,” said Ms. Yoshida. “I’ll just wait here for you.”
“Be right back,” said Theo’s mom.
“Take your time,” said Lora Yoshida. When Theo’s mom stepped out of the room, with Detective Clarkson right behind her, Lora Yoshida turned her gaze on Theo, Tess, and Jaime. “So, children, what do you think of the interview so far?”
“I think you don’t want to answer any questions,” Theo said.
“Hey!” said one of the suited men.
But Lora Yoshida laughed. “I think your mother doesn’t really want to ask me any questions.”
Theo pressed the issue. “Did you take the necklace?”
“What necklace?” said Lora Yoshida, and laughed again. She seemed to be having a great time for a person sitting in a police station.
“Why did you marry him?” Tess asked.
“Kid, that’s none of your business,” said one of the suited men.
“It’s all right, Bert,” said Lora Yoshida.
“My name’s Bart.”
“Yes, whatever,” said Lora Yoshida. She put her elbows on the table and leaned toward Tess. “How old are you?”
“Thirteen,” said Tess.
“So I can assume you’ve never been in love?”
Tess flushed a furious shade of summer tomato. “No.”
Lora Yoshida said, “Sometimes, we fall for a person. But it’s not like it is in the movies—we don’t fall in love because that person is a good person or a kind person. We fall for a person because that person isn’t good or kind, and because we were treated unkindly when we were young. We fall for that person’s wounds because we, ourselves, are wounded. And the unkindness of this not-good, not-kind person feels familiar, and we imagine this familiarity is love. And we tell ourselves that if we are good and kind enough ourselves, we can fix that not-good, not-kind person, heal that person and make that person love us back. And in so doing, we can also heal ourselves, rewrite the story of our lives.” Lora Yoshida paused, laying her hands flat on the table. “Of course, it’s a mistake. A heartbreaking mistake. You can’t fix someone else. They can only fix themselves. It took me a long time to learn this lesson. I hope you never have to learn it. Not the way I did.”
“I . . . ,” said Tess. She fingered the surface of the table where someone had scratched a sad face. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” said Lora Yoshida, flipping her glossy hair over one shoulder. “I could be working on another art piece instead of being one of your mother’s guests, as much as I enjoy her company.”
“If you didn’t take the necklace, you must be angry that Darnell Slant keeps saying you did,” said Theo.
“I don’t waste much time on anger these days,” said Lora Yoshida. “I’d rather pour my frustrations into my work. Besides, it amuses me to be a thorn in Darnell Slant’s side. It’s the least I can do.”
“Jaime’s an artist,” said Tess.
“Really? What kind?” said Lora Yoshida.
“I draw a little,” said Jaime.
“He’s really good,” Tess said. “Jaime, show her some of your drawings.”
“That’s okay,” Jaime said. “You don’t have to look at them.”
Ono poked his head out from Jaime’s pocket. “Oh no.”
Lora Yoshida’s face filled with delight. “Who is that?”
Jaime took Ono from his pocket and put the robot on the table. “This is Ono.”
Lora Yoshida beamed at Ono. “Pleased to meet you, Ono. My name is Lora Yoshida.” She used her thumb and forefinger to shake Ono’s tiny hand.
“Land of Kings,” said Ono.
“I would love to see your drawings, Mr. Cruz,” said Lora Yoshida, still beaming. “If you’d care to show me.”
Jaime reluctantly pulled out his sketchbook. “I’m just playing around a little. They’re nothing special.”
“Oh no,” said Ono.
“Your friends think you’re being too modest, so you probably are.” Lora Yoshida opened the sketchbook to the first page. She took her time with each drawing, examining them. “These are lovely,” she said. “You are quite talented. And versatile, too. Landscapes and figures. So much energy and movement.” She stopped at a drawing of Ava Oneal, glanced up at Jaime. “Who is this?”
Jaime shook his head. “Just a character I made up.”
“A character,” said Lora Yoshida. “Not a real person?”
“I can’t say,” said Jaime.
“Why?” Theo said. “Does she look familiar?”
“Perhaps she has one of those faces.” Lora Yoshida closed the sketchbook and gave it back to Jaime. Then she turned to her lawyers.
“Bert, can you and the boys go out there and find out what’s keeping Detective Biedermann? I would like to leave here sometime today.”
“Bart,” said Bart.
“Thank you, Bert,” said Lora Yoshida as the men filed out of the room. Once they were gone, she stood and unwound the scarf from around her neck. She yawned and stretched, draping the scarf over the camera in the corner of the room as she did. She put a finger to her lips: Shhhh.
None of them said a word. She reached under the collar of her dress and pulled out a silver chain on which hung a locket. She draped it around Tess’s neck. Tess shivered when the chain touched her neck, but she allowed Lora Yoshida to fasten the clasp. Lora Yoshida leaned down, her lustrous black hair forming a curtain.
“This locket isn’t mine,” she whispered. “But it’s not Darnell’s, either. And it’s definitely not his mother’s. A friend found it in a place you’d never find Darnell Slant.”
“Where?” Jaime asked.
“The library,” said Lora Yoshida. “It was hidden in a first edition of a book called The Lost Ones. Someone had hollowed out the pages and tucked it inside. My friend was worried that the wrong people would get ahold of it, so she asked me to find the right people. Darnell stole it from me. He only wants it because I have it. And now you do.”
“But why—” Tess began.
Again, Lora Yoshida put her finger to her lips. Then she pulled the scarf away from the camera and sat back in her seat.
Tess had just tucked the locket into her T-shirt when Detective Clarkson burst into the room. “What in the sloppy joe is going on in here?”
“Detective,” said Lora Yoshida. “We were waiting for you.”
“Did you do something to the camera?”
“Me? Whatever could I do to the camera?” said Lora Yoshida. “I’m not a photographer.”
“Ms. Yoshida,” Theo’s mom said from behind Detective Clarkson, “I’m sorry we were gone so long. I brought you a soda.” She put a red can on the table. “We have a few more questions and then we’re finished.”
“No champagne?” Lora Yoshida shook her head and opened her purse, rifling through it. “I think we’re finished now.”
Theo’s mom took a deep breath. “Ms. Yoshida. I’m sorry about this. We have to follow up on complaints.”
“I understand the pressure you’re under better than you think,” said Lora Yoshida. “I know you have a job to do. But so do I. And it doesn’t include coming to the Tombs for any more visits, as pleasant as these visits have been.” She got up from her chair. “Tell Mr. Slant that if he makes any more complaints against me, I’ll have to sue him.”
“We’ll sue the whole city,” said Bert/Bart from the doorway, and the suited men with him all nodded vigorously. “That might put a damper on his mayoral campaign.”
“Or it might help his campaign,” grumbled Detective Clarkson.
Lora Yoshida smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “Perhaps that’s what he wants. Did you ever think about that? That you believe that you’re doing exactly what you want to do when you’re really doing what someone has manipulated you into doing?”
Now Theo’s mom smiled the same sort of grim smile Lora Yoshida had. She scraped the photos together and slipped them back into the file folder. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Yoshida. You’re free to go.”
“Is anyone really and truly free? That’s what your children should be writing about for their school projects.” Lora Yoshida put on her sunglasses and walked to the door. She paused and looked back. “Who can find justice in the Halls of Justice?” Then she swept out of the room, the scarf trailing behind her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jaime
Jaime’s dad liked old cartoons. Ever since he’d gotten back from Sudan, one of his favorite things to do was to watch Looney Tunes cartoons, with Bugs Bunny and the Road Runner and the rest, some of the episodes as old as Mima. He would laugh at Bugs and Tweety and Sylvester the cat and Elmer Fudd. He even laughed at Pepé Le Pew, a skunk who falls in love with a cat and won’t stop grabbing her and kissing her no matter how much she tries to get away.
“This is creepy, Dad,” Jaime had told his father. “That skunk is a criminal.”
His dad didn’t put Pepé Le Pew on anymore.
Now, touring the Tombs with the twins and Detective Biedermann, Jaime felt like Pepé Le Pew’s cat, itching to get away, except his arms weren’t flailing and his feet weren’t running. Instead, he listened as Detective Biedermann talked to them about crime and punishment, investigations and evidence, justice and injustice. She told them about how people filed complaints and reports, how she went about gathering clues. She couldn’t talk about cases in progress without the permission of the people involved, but she did talk about cases she had been able to close and how she’d done it. By working the phone, she said, or pounding the pavement. Asking questions, sometimes the same ones, over and over again. Just like you did when you were trying to solve a Cipher, Jaime thought.
