The Case of the Murdered MacKenzie: A Masao Masuto Mystery (Book Seven) by Howard Fast Read Free Book Online Page A

you know who her agent is?”
    â€œEve Mackenzie? I don’t even know whether she has one. She hasn’t done any films lately.”
    â€œAh, so. What’s your guess about Washington?”
    â€œThat’s it. It makes no sense. Even if Mackenzie was involved in some super-secret stuff, why prosecute his wife without evidence? Unless they felt that in this way the real killer would be protected. But how? And who’s the killer? Feona Scott? How about that?”
    Masuto shook his head.
    â€œI wish I were defending the lady,” Geffner said moodily. “I’d tear the state’s case to shreds. I’d be another F. Lee Bailey. You know, in England that’s the way it works. Lawyers switch from the prosecution to the defense and back again. Makes more sense than the way we do it. Well, what do you intend to do about all this, Masuto?”
    â€œI work for the city. That doesn’t leave me much choice. I argued with Wainwright, but I guess the same voice from Washington convinced him to close the book. He won’t reopen the case. Unless—”
    â€œUnless what?”
    â€œJust a notion, but unlikely. One more thing. Did you talk to Eve Mackenzie?”
    â€œThe formal stuff. I asked her whether she wanted to plead. She smiled at me and said, ‘No, Mr. Geffner, we must have a trial.’”
    â€œShe wasn’t disturbed?”
    â€œNot a bit. Cool as a cucumber.”
    Masuto paid the check. “I’ll be off now. Thank you.”
    â€œThank you for nothing,” Geffner said.

What Masuto’s wife, Kati, disliked most about those times when he would become totally engrossed with a case was his habit of withdrawal; and this evening, when he returned to his cottage in Culver City after talking with Geffner, it was immediately apparent. He answered questions with monosyllables and he listened without hearing. Kati had once mentioned to him on such an occasion that his Zen Roshi in downtown Los Angeles might not respond well to someone who listened without hearing. It was very un-Japanese on the part of Kati, but since she had become part of a Nisei consciousness-raising group, she did a number of things that were un-Japanese.
    When they were in Japan, Kati had been less impressed than Masuto by the food, holding that her mother’s cooking was better. She also thought that her own cooking was in most cases superior, but that was a thought she would never voice. However, tonight she had prepared a complex and unusual dinner, a little bit of tuna sushi to begin, then suimono, a delicious soup flavored with ginger and dashi, and then oyako domburi, a chicken dish that takes long and patient preparation. When her husband ate without commenting, Kati said, “If I were an Anglo lady, I would be very angry. I might even shout and scream at you. I might even leave you.”
    â€œKati, what on earth are you talking about?”
    â€œAbout what your Roshi would say if you spoke to him without hearing what he said.”
    â€œKati, you’re making no sense.”
    â€œYou’ve eaten the sushi and the suimono. Now you are eating oyako domburi.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œBut no comment. Is it good, bad, indifferent? Better than what we ate in Tokyo? Worse? You never even noticed what you were eating.”
    â€œOf course I did. Delicious.”
    â€œYou’re just saying that.”
    â€œI say it and I mean it. And I appreciate it.”
    â€œWhat did you have for lunch?”
    He took refuge in an outright lie. “Hamburgers,” he said.
    She was mollified. “How can you eat such food! I’m a thoughtless wife. I should pack a lunch basket for you. But I become jealous and thoughtless when you have one of those dreadful murders, and at first I was so happy that we were in Japan when it happened, but now I can see that it waited for you.”
    â€œWell, I work in Beverly Hills, Kati. You must know how I