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On the accelerated tape, the strobes flashed almost continuously as Mado
Co
“Well, we probably have a lot on her,” Je
“There’s Daniel Okimoto. Expert on Japanese industrial policy. That’s Arnold, with Maria. And behind them is Steve Martin, with Arata Isozaki, the architect who designed the Museum—“
Co
She punched the console button. The picture froze. Je
“No. Back up, please.”
The tape ran backward, the frames flicking and blurring as the camera pa
Co
The image froze. Slightly blurred, I saw a tall blonde in a black cocktail dress walking forward alongside a handsome man in a dark suit.
“Huh,” Je
“Her. “
“Let me think,” Je
I said, “You know anything else about her?”
Je
“And the man with her?”
“Richard Levitt. Plastic surgeon. Does a lot of big stars.”
“What’s he doing here?”
She shrugged. “He’s around. Like a lot of these guys, he’s a companion to the stars in their time of need. If his patients are getting divorced or whatever, he escorts the woman. When he’s not taking out clients, he takes out models like her. They certainly look good together.”
On the monitor, Cheryl and her escort walked toward us in intermittent jerks: one frame every thirty seconds. Stepping slow. I noticed they never looked at each other. She seemed tense, expectant.
Je
Co
“Oh, she’s the one? Interesting.”
I said, “You’ve heard about the murder?”
“Oh, sure.”
“Was it on the news?”
“No, didn’t make the eleven o’clock,” Je
“Why is that?” I asked, glancing at Co
“Well, what’s the peg?”
“I don’t follow you.”
“Nakamoto would say, it’s only news because it happened at their opening. They’d take the position that any reporting of it is a smear on them. But in a way they’re right. I mean, if this girl got killed on the freeway, it wouldn’t make the news. If she got killed in a convenience store robbery, it wouldn’t make the news. We have two or three of those every night. So the fact that she gets killed at a party… who cares? It’s still not news. She’s young and pretty, but she’s not special. It’s not as if she has a series or anything.” .
Co
“The footage from the party? Sure. You looking for this particular girl?”
“Right.”
“Okay, here we go.” Je
We saw scenes from the party on the forty-fifth floor: the swing band, people dancing beneath the hanging decorations. We strained for a glimpse of the girl in the crowd. Je
“I’m surprised the station hasn’t got it.”
“Oh, it’s not for sale here. The most advanced Japanese video equipment isn’t available in this country. They keep us three to five years behind. Which is their privilege. It’s their technology, they can do what they want. But it’d sure be useful in a case like this.”
The party images were streaming past, a frenetic blur.
Suddenly, she locked the image.
“There. Background camera left. Your Austin girl’s talking to Eddie Sakamura. Of course he’d know her. Sakamura knows all the models. Normal speed here?”
“Please,” Co
The camera made a slow pan around the room. Cheryl Austin remained in view for most of the shot. Laughing with Eddie Sakamura, throwing her head back, resting her hand on his arm, happy to be with him. Eddie clowned for her, his face mobile. He seemed to enjoy making her laugh. But from time to time, her eyes flicked away, glancing around the room. As if she was waiting for something to happen. Or for someone to arrive.
At one point, Sakamura became aware he did not have her full attention. He grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly toward him. She turned her face away from him. He leaned close to her and said something angrily. Then a bald man stepped forward, very close to the camera. The light flared on his face, washing out his features, and his head blocked our view of Eddie and the girl. Then the camera pa
“Damn.”
“Again?” Je
I said, “Eddie’s obviously not happy with her.”
“I’d say.”
Co
Je
At one point, Cheryl Austin looked at Eddie Sakamura and said, “…can’t help if it’s important to you I get…”
His reply to her was garbled, but later, he said clearly to her, “Don’t understand… all about the Saturday meeting…”
And in the last few seconds of the pan, when he pulled her to him, he snarled a phrase like “…be a fool… no cheapie…”
I said, “Did he say ‘No cheapie’?”
“Something like that,” Co
Je
“No,” Co
“Right,” Je
The image accelerated, the party-goers becoming frenetic, laughing and raising glasses for quick sips. And then I said, “Wait.”
Back to normal speed. A blond woman in an Armani silk suit shaking hands with the bald-headed man we had seen a few moments before.
“What is it?” Je
“That’s his wife,” Co
The woman leaned forward to kiss the bald man lightly on the mouth. Then she stepped back and made some comment about the suit he was wearing.
“She’s a lawyer in the D.A.’s office,” Je