Free RK02 - Guilt By Degrees by Marcia Clark Page A

asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “Where did you go?”
    “Back to work,” Yamaguchi replied. “I work at a spa in Little Tokyo on First near San Pedro Street. I’m a masseur—”
    It wasn’t conscious, but I guess my reaction showed on my face. I’d heard that some of those “spas” were just fronts for prostitution.
    Yamaguchi continued, his tone firm. “It’s a real spa and I’m a real masseur. And you could use some help,” he said, nodding at my hand, which was at that moment kneading the rigid muscles in my neck. I dropped my hand, busted.
    “But you went back to the scene. Why?” I asked.
    Yamaguchi sighed and looked down at the floor. We all sat silently, waiting. Finally Walter spoke up. “Ronald, you’ve gone this far. There’s no point in holding back now.”
    Intrigued, I leaned forward.
    Yamaguchi nodded but pressed his lips together. After another minute, he spoke. “One of my regulars is a cop. He was on the table when the call came in on his radio, and when I heard the location I realized it might be the homeless guy I’d just seen. He ran out when he got the call, and I decided to go look.” Yamaguchi held his hands out, palms up, as far as the chain would allow and shrugged. “Just curiosity, I guess.”
    His story was just weird enough to have the ring of truth. But we weren’t quite done yet.
    “First of all, I’d like the name of that cop,” I said. “If he corroborates your story, it’ll go a long way toward getting you out of here.”
    Yamaguchi shook his head. “If it gets out that he was getting a massage while he was on duty, he’ll be in big trouble. He’s a good customer. I can’t do that to him.”
    I was impressed by his reluctance to dump out the cop—assuming it was the truth. What I’d need to do is talk to the officer on the down low, promise not to let anyone else know about his “afternoon delight,” and see if he would corroborate Yamaguchi’s story. But I’d need Bailey’s okay first, because we’d be hiding evidence of an officer’s dereliction of duty. That meant there was no point in pressing the issue right now.
    “You know they found blood on the sleeve of your jacket,” I said. “You have an explanation for it?”
    The working assumption had been that it was the victim’s blood, and Stoner had submitted the jacket for testing as soon as Yamaguchi was arrested, but the lab hadn’t given us any results yet.
    “I don’t,” Yamaguchi said, his expression distressed. “It couldn’t have been much, or I’d have noticed it.” He frowned to himself. “It was just a drop or something, right?” he asked Bailey.
    Bailey shrugged, noncommittal. “Big or small, the point is, you don’t remember cutting yourself at all that day, right?”
    “I suppose it’s possible,” he replied. “But no, I have no memory of it.”
    It impressed me that he wasn’t trying to give us a cover story. This was yet another answer that’d come back to bite him if he suddenly remembered at trial that he’d had a shaving accident. The fact that Walter was letting us pin him down this way told me he must really be thinking this guy is innocent. Still, Walter wouldn’t be the first lawyer to be suckered by his client. I decided to continue with the last point.
    “From what I hear, you had a lot to say about the homeless—none of it good. Want to explain the rant you got into with the arresting officer?”
    For the first time since the interview began, Yamaguchi reddened and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I waited without comment, letting the silence build. Sometimes silence is the best interrogator.
    “That was…unfortunate,” Yamaguchi said slowly, his eyes focused downward at a point on the table. “We’ve been having a real hard time at work because some of the homeless guys can be…pretty aggressive. They’ve been scaring off customers, especially the women.” He paused. “This economy, things are already so tough. We lose many more customers, we’ll