“Why did he leave?”
“I don’t really know. He wanted more money, maybe.”
“What’s his name?”
I bit my lip. He already knew if he had read the article. Emily had stated Ernest’s name. But Yamazaki wanted the affirmation from me. If I told him, Ernest would be in danger. But if I refused, I would be dead. “Ernest Reismann.”
“Liceman, Liceman,” he murmured in his heavy Japanese accent. “Where’s he from? America? England?”
I lied. “I don’t know where he’s from . . .”
He pulled back his hand and covered the Mauser with his suit jacket. “He will be punished for his crime. Bring him to me.”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“You’ll find him. Then you’ll bring him to me, or I’ll confiscate your club. Is that clear?”
His voice was low pitched, and his tone wasn’t threatening, just casual, but it was the casualness of a man watching a fish caught in the pond of his own garden. He strode out of the ballroom.
I went to the bar and poured myself a glass of adulterated sorghum wine and emptied it. The alcohol ran down my throat; a hot streak burned my stomach. I put my hand on my chest and gasped. I was still alive.
When I raised my head again, the laughter, jazz music, and dancing had ceased. The dark figures at the tables had vanished, and the bright light from the vaulted ceiling showered on the empty dance floor like flakes of pale skin.
My body was so stiff I felt a great pain in my neck. Bring him to me, or I’ll confiscate your club.
Cheng, Ying, and I argued about what to do in my office.
“Give him the foreigner,” Cheng said, a cigarette between his fingers.
I sat on my high-backed chair. “I don’t know where he is,” I lied. “You fired him.”
“If you don’t give him the pianist, you’ll lose your club.”
“You think I don’t know that?” The band was playing “Summertime” in the ballroom, each beat giving me a pounding headache. Should I tell Yamazaki where Ernest lived? If I refused, he would take my club, but if I gave Ernest to Yamazaki, he would kill him.
“I’ll take care of Yamazaki,” Ying said, his hand on a bulge in his jacket pocket. He made me more nervous than ever. The Japanese had fighter jets and guns, and we had nothing. Confronting Yamazaki would get us all killed. Fighting was not a solution. Giving him Ernest was not a solution. Letting him seize my club was not a solution. There was no solution.
I went to Ernest’s apartment the next morning. I trusted him. Busy playing in my club all night, he wouldn’t have had time to conspire with the policemen. But it was necessary to get to the bottom of this.
It was an overcast day, the air pale like smoke. In the alleyway of Ernest’s apartment, I waited long enough to be aware of the stares of tattered beggars. He was not in his apartment. I finally left. The next evening, I went there again and found him. I asked my chauffeur to leave so Ernest and I could be alone in the car. A loyal man whom I trusted with my life, my chauffeur nodded and waited outside on the street.
“Were you involved with a Sikh policeman?” I asked Ernest.
“Jyo? He’s a good man. We came across each other a while ago. Why do you ask?”
I told him about Yamazaki’s visit to my club, his claim, and his threat.
“Murder a Japanese soldier? I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
Yamazaki had the wrong man, just as I had thought. “You must be careful,” I warned Ernest.
He nodded, but he looked worried. “What about your club?”
I didn’t want to think about that. I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him instead. I never considered myself a loose woman, but I couldn’t keep my hands off him. I sat on him, lost in his kisses, hungry for his touch. I made love to him with my shoes on.
Four days passed since Yamazaki’s visit. In the dark, cigarette-scented ballroom, the band slumped beside their instruments and the managers whispered in a corner. On the dance floor, dots of lights glittered like lost silver; along the walls, empty tables cast shadowy figures like land mines. I walked across the teak floor, my high heels leaving a trail of dull, hollow beats of sound.
Yamazaki’s visit had spooked the customers. This empty ballroom would be a painful sight for months, and the loss of business would haunt me. It would take a while for people to overcome the fear and return.
But even this bleak ballroom was a luxury. As days went by, Yamazaki would no doubt lose patience, return, and seize my business if I couldn’t give Ernest to him.