Free Rising Sun: A Novel by Michael Crichton Page B

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.”
    Connor glanced at his watch. “Miss Young, you’ve been very helpful. We may need to speak to you again. Lieutenant Smith will take your phone number—”
    “Yes, of course.”
    I flipped open my pad.
    Connor said, “I’m going to have a word with the doorman.”
    “Shinichi,” she said.
    Connor left. I took down Julia’s number. She licked her lips as she watched me write. Then she said, “You can tell me. Did he kill her?”
    “Who?”
    “Eddie. Did he kill Cheryl Lynn?”
    She was a pretty girl but I could see the excitement in her eyes. She was looking at me with a steady gaze. Her eyes were shining. It was creepy. I said, “Why do you ask?”
    “Because. He was always threatening to. Like this afternoon, he threatened her.”
    I said, “Eddie was here this afternoon?”
    “Sure.” She shrugged. “He’s here all the time. He came to see her this afternoon, real worked up. They put extra soundproofing to the walls in this building when they took it over. But even so, you could hear them scream at each other in her apartment. Him and Cheryl Lynn. She’d have on her Jerry Lee Lewis, the one she played day and night until you just about went crazy, and they’d be screaming and throwing things. He’d always say, ‘I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you, you bitch.’ So. Did he?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “But she’s dead?” Her eyes still shining.
    “Yes.”
    “It had to happen,” she said. She seemed completely calm. “We all knew it. It was just a matter of time. If you want, call me. If you need more information.”
    “Yes. I will.” I gave her my card. “And if you think of anything else, you can call me at this number.”
    She slipped it into the hip pocket of her shorts, twisting her body. “I like talking to you, Peter.”
    “Yes. Okay.”
    I walked down the corridor. When I got to the end I looked back. She was standing in her doorway, waving good-bye.

Connor was using the phone in the lobby while the doorman stared sullenly at him, as if he wanted to stop him, but couldn’t think of a reason why.
    “That’s right,” Connor was saying. “All the outgoing calls from that phone between eight and ten p.m. That’s right.” He listened for a moment. “Well, I don’t care if your data isn’t organized that way, just get it for me. How long will it take? Tomorrow? Don’t be ridiculous. What do you think this is? I need it within two hours. I’ll call you back. Yes. Fuck you, too.” He hung up. “Let’s go,
kōhai.
”
    We walked outside to the car.
    I said, “Checking your contacts?”
    “Contacts?” He looked puzzled. “Oh. Graham said something to you about my ‘contacts.’ I don’t have any special informants. He just thinks I do.”
    “He mentioned the Arakawa case.”
    Connor sighed. “That old thing.” We walked toward the car. “You want to know that story? It’s simple. Two Japanese nationals get killed. The department puts detectives on the case who can’t speak Japanese. Finally, after a week, they give the case to me.”
    “And what did you do?”
    “The Arakawas were staying at the New Otani Hotel. I got the phone records of the calls they made to Japan. I called those numbers, and spoke to some people in Osaka. Then I called Osaka and talked to the police there. Again, in Japanese. They were surprised to hear we didn’t know the whole story.”
    “I see.”
    “Not quite,” Connor said. “Because the police department here was very embarrassed. The press