Free Zero Break by Neil Plakcy Page A

restaurant through a torii gate, and the hostess seated us at a four-top in the back of the restaurant. The name might have been Simple Sushi, but the décor was anything but. The walls were papered with something that looked like the pattern from blue willow china. There were little brass lanterns on each table with a votive candle, chopsticks, and placemats with a map of Japan.
    Before we looked at the menus, Julie reached over to Ray and pushed the edges of his eyes up diagonally with her index fingers. She considered, then shook her head and pulled back. “Nah, I think I’ll stick with what I’ve got.”
    We all laughed. “Anybody want sake?” Ray asked.
    “You hate sake,” Julie said.
    “Hey, I’m trying to go with the flow.”
    We all just wanted water. Mike has had problems with alcohol in the past, and though he’s been fine for a long time, I always get a twinge when the chance comes to order a beverage. I know he’s watching me so I try not to let it show.
    We ordered a couple of sampler platters and a teriyaki chicken entrée to share. After the waiter had taken our order, Ray and I went up to the hostess to ask about Zoë Greenfield. When we showed the picture, she nodded her head. “Yeah, she in here just few days ago,” she said. “They sit in back with chef, Shinichi. She like him.”
    Ray and I walked back to the counter at the rear of the restaurant. The real sushi connoisseurs like to sit where the chef is preparing his dishes, so they can talk to him about what’s best that day.
    Shinichi was a Japanese guy in his late twenties, with straight black hair cut at a weird angle, and a pink stripe on the side. Clearly an island Japanese, not a tourist. And if he wasn’t gay, you can take back that toaster they gave me when I came out.
    “You remember this woman?” I asked, showing him the photo.
    He recognized her. He recognized me, too, but that’s another story. “Yeah, she was here Sunday night.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “With a man.”
    “You noticed that?” I asked.
    He nodded. “Yeah. She always used to come in with this Chinese chick. I thought they were partners. But then the last couple of times, it’s been with a guy.”
    “Same guy every time?”
    “Yeah. Tough-looking white guy, tattoos on his forearms. I guess when she went the other way, she really went the other way, if you know what I mean.” He continued to chop and roll sushi as we talked.
    “I know. Anything more about the guy? Age? Hair color?”
    He put his lips together like he was thinking. “Maybe thirty-five or forty. Buzz-cut hair, like light brown. Looked like he worked out.”
    “You remember how they paid?” Ray asked. “Credit card?”
    He shook his head. “The guy always paid. Cash. Pretty good tipper, too.”
    He wasn’t sure exactly what time they’d been in, it had been a busy night, but the place closed at midnight and he knew they were gone before that.
    “You find anything out?” Mike asked, when we returned to the table.
    “Yeah. Don’t know if it will help, though.” We told him and Julie what the waiter had said.
    “Sounds like she had a boyfriend,” Julie said. “If the waiter said they’ve been in a few times.”
    “Maybe you could see if anyone she works with knew who she was dating,” Mike suggested.
    “Been there, done that,” I said. “Her coworker didn’t even know she was a lesbian.”
    We shared the sushi and the teriyaki and tried to forget that it was murder that had brought us all together. Mike told us about the fire he was investigating, at a wind farm under construction in the Koolau mountains. “Neighbors don’t like the place. They say it’s going to spoil the view, make noise, frighten away the birds.”
    “You think it’s arson?” Ray asked.
    “Not sure yet. It looks like one of the generators the contractors were using might have short-circuited and started the fire. But it’s not clear why that happened.”
    I was always