Under a Silver Moon Read online

  Mandy had gone from disbelieving to hysterical and now seemed in a numb daze. Kim had wanted to break down a few times herself, but couldn’t let it happen. She had to be strong for Mandy, had to figure a way out of this nightmare. She got up and tried to think of a way to get the damn windows open, at least one of them.

  “Mom?”

  “It’s okay, honey. We’ll be all right.”

  “No. Mom, you need to see this.”

  Kim turned and gasped as Imai’s portrait flashed on the screen. This was the last show of his mini tour. She’d forgotten about it being broadcast across Japan.

  She went and sat on the floor in front of the television, and Mandy sat beside her as some commercials played before the concert’s start.

  This concert didn’t begin as the first had. The curtain was already up, and when the spotlight came up it revealed Imai seated on a stool, an acoustic guitar on his lap.

  “Oh my God,” Kim choked out. “He cut his hair. His beautiful hair…”

  Mandy hushed her as he began to play.

  Tears came to Kim’s eyes because the melody he began to pick out was so sad. And then she saw her engagement ring on the little finger of his right hand as he strummed the notes.

  She could feel his pain. It mirrored her own. When he sang in English, the tears slid down her cheeks in a steady stream. He must think she’d left him.

  Goodbye, dear one

  My shining star

  The light I never thought

  I’d find or make mine

  I’ll keep you with me

  Wherever I go

  My dear one

  My only love

  I sing farewell

  To the silver moon above

  I won’t cry now

  My tears are gone

  Gone like the light you were to me

  Goodbye, dear one

  Like a beautiful flower

  Petals unfolding in my hand

  Fallen now, blown away like sand

  Goodbye, dear one…my light…my precious flower …

  The camera panned in close, and Kim could see the sheen of tears in her lover’s beautiful eyes. She reached out and touched the image of his face as the house lights faded. “Oh, Imai, I’m here. I love you…”

  * * * * *

  Michiko Izumi gritted her teeth as everyone backstage fell into a hush when Imai’s voice faded and the lights and curtain went down. The stage manager’s order for the backup band to take their places broke the spell they’d all been under. Michiko slipped off her coat and snatched the bottle of wine from the hand of the roadie approaching Imai. “Let me pour that for you, Imai-san.”

  He said nothing but tossed back the drink and held his glass out for another. He drank that quickly as well, then set the glass on an amplifier case before running his hands through his hair. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as the band started the intro to the opening number.

  Michiko poured herself a drink in the glass Imai had used and slipped into the shadows behind the tall case to watch him go through the first song. Impervious to all, she slid her free hand beneath the minuscule leather skirt she wore and touched herself. Tonight he’d be hers. Hers in every way.

  When the new song from the video began, she took her place and danced out, giving tonight’s little performance her all, making the audience shriek with delight at the obvious foreplay. But unlike the other nights of the tour he didn’t touch her back, didn’t grab her and sing the words to her.

  And when she made the last move, the one that had sent the other audiences in to a frenzy ‑‑ kneeling before him, her face inches from his leather-clad crotch ‑‑ he turned away. He strutted out onto the ramp at the left side of the stage and left her alone.

  With the lights and the crowd’s attention trained on Imai, the stage manager dashed out and pulled the stunned Michiko backstage. She grabbed her coat from the wardrobe girl and threw it on, clutching at the belt until her fingers numbed.

  He was a bit drunk. He was a bit nervous with this show being so important. That’s all it was. She forced herself to calm down and watched the rest of the performance until he came backstage to change out of his sweat-soaked shirt following his encore.

  “Here, let me, Imai-san,” she said, taking the clean shirt from the simpering wardrobe girl’s hands. She tried to button it for him, but he batted her hand away.

  “Stop it! Stop clinging to me. Go home. I don’t need you. I don’t want you.”

  He pushed past her and went back toward the side of the stage where reporters and photographers gathered. She caught a glimpse of him touching that fucking ring on his pinky.

  Imai Shimizu might be pushing her away now, but once that American whore was dead, he’d be hers forever.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Imai forced himself to smile for the photographers and answer the interviewers’ questions as politely as possible until he caught sight of Toru at the rear of the boisterous crowd. Though Toru was wearing sunglasses, he’d known the man long enough to be able to tell his mood merely by his stance and the set of his jaw. Imai cut short the interview and made his way to his friend. “It’s Kim?”

  “Where’s Izumi-san?”

  “Michiko? I don’t know she was here…” Imai looked around. “I don’t know. Why?”

  Toru grabbed Imai’s arm and pulled him close enough to whisper, “Kim and her daughter never left the country, not unless they had fake passports.”

  Imai’s face paled. “Where are they?”

  “We don’t know, but Izumi-san was the last to see Kim.” One of the roadies called to Toru. When he stepped away Imai went to look out the stage door and caught sight of Izumi’s white Honda turning out of the rear loading area.

  * * * * *

  “She gave us her statement,” Inspector Hirayama said, shaking his head as the building manager used a passkey to unlock Michiko Izumi’s apartment. “The American woman was drunk, out of control. She vandalized Shimizu-san’s home.”

  “No one saw Donovan-san do that,” Jun said in no uncertain terms.

  Once the door opened the inspector went inside. Koji and Jun followed, though he told them to remain in the hall. “Don’t touch anything,” he barked.

  Jun scowled and looked around the spotless living room. The pale yellow walls were covered with photographs of ChildsPrey and a few of the other bands Izumi worked with. When the inspector opened the door to the bedroom, Jun stepped forward to peek inside. More photos lined these walls as well, and Jun recognized many of them as being from award shows and backstage photos from ChildsPrey concerts. He had many of the same photos, but something was wrong. He stepped closer and looked at them one by one. “Koji, look at this.”

  Koji came in and Jun pointed. “Look at these photos from the MTV awards four years ago. Rumiko was pregnant with Yuuka.” He pointed to his ex-wife and then to the foreground where Imai stood with his arm around Michiko Izumi. “She didn’t start working with us until after that show. She wasn’t with Imai; he was with that French model. I remember how Rumiko went on about being too ‘fat’ to wear such a dress as that silver one.”

  Koji went to another photo. “I remember this movie premiere. Imai took my sister with him because his date was sick.”

  “Inspector.”

  Koji turned to look at Jun, who was gazing at a set of three large photos above the bed. The pictures were screenshots of Imai’s latest video, only instead of Kim Donovan in the scenes as she’d been, Michiko Izumi had Photoshopped herself in Kim’s place.

  Hirayama’s cell phone rang, and he answered it. His expression grew grim. “Fine. Yes, sir I’ll find her right away.” He shoved the phone into his pocket and looked at Jun and Koji. “It appears that Izumi-san has ties to the Yakuza. Close ties.”

  “Oh, shit,” Koji said. “I should have let Imai follow her that night after the concert. He might have caught up with them…”

  “Koj, you couldn’t have known,” Jun said, layi
ng a hand on his lover’s shoulder. His cell phone rang. It was Toru. “Hang on.” Jun turned to Hirayama. “Izumi isn’t at the concert hall. She left. One of the roadies said she was pissed off because Imai-kun told her to stay away from him. Toru tried calling her; he even had her boss Suzuki try. She won’t answer her cell, if she has it on.”

  Hirayama got on his phone and got a search going for Michiko Izumi and a list of known places her mob associates might be holding someone.

  “That’ll take forever,” Koji said miserably.

  “Maybe not,” Jun said. He raised his phone to his ear again. “Toru, have Imai try to call Izumi ‑‑ tell him to be nice to her and pretend that he wants to see her, that he likes her.” He turned to speak to Hirayama. “You can get her location, can’t you? Cell phones can be tracked with satellite.”

  “There’s just one problem.” Toru cursed on the other end of the line.

  Jun clenched his jaw. “What happened?”

  “Imai’s not here.”

  “What do you mean he’s not there?” Jun put his hand on Koji’s shoulder again.

  “He’s gone and no one knows where he went.”

  Jun clicked the phone shut. “Shit.”

  * * * * *

  Imai turned off the car’s headlights as soon as Michiko drove off the main street. He followed her as she cut across an access road leading between some empty warehouses before coming to a stop in front of a dark, abandoned building. Imai parked in the shadow of another building across from her, cutting the engine as she stepped out of the car and charged into the warehouse.

  Imai kept to the side of the building as he approached on foot. He stayed clear of the few flickering sodium lamps still working. He didn’t want Michiko or anyone else that woman was with to know he was here.

  Before he got to the warehouse, he heard a large motor chatter to life, followed by the sound of a gate slamming shut and the scraping sound of metal chains being cranked by a rusty winch.

  Michiko had left the side door ajar, and he peered inside. The enclosed space stank of old motor oil, fish, and God knew what else. With only the dim light from outside working through the slats in the windows, he could barely see anything besides the gate-covered industrial elevator against the closest wall.

  Imai shoved open the door, the noise from the elevator masking the creak of the door’s hinges. Two stories overhead, the elevator came to a stop and Imai froze as a woman’s voice drifted down. And it didn’t belong to Izumi. He saw narrow metal stairs off to his left and hurried toward them.

  “You bitch!” Kim screamed as she launched herself at Michiko Izumi. She knocked the other woman down and back out into the corridor with a punch to the jaw. She jumped on top of her, pulling her hair and hitting her again. “Mandy, run, dammit! Run!”

  “Mom!” Mandy gave her a panicked look. “I can’t leave you ‑‑”

  “Go!” Kim yelled. For once in the girl’s life, Mandy obeyed without another protest.

  Izumi growled, viciously kicking out with her right leg. The woman had to be a good six inches shorter than Kim and smaller in frame, but she fought back viciously. Kim cried out as Izumi landed a knee in her belly, knocking the wind out of her.

  Izumi spat, shoving Kim away. She rolled to her feet and rushed forward.

  Gasping, Kim tried to stand. Izumi pushed Kim against the wall and slapped her across the face. “Whore!” Izumi shrieked. “You’ve ruined everything. Everything!”

  Kim glared, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. “What are you talking about, you crazy bitch?”

  “Weren’t there enough men in America for you to seduce? Enough cocks to keep you busy?” Izumi trembled all over. “Imai didn’t need someone like you ‑‑ he deserves better! He deserves me!”

  Kim felt like she’d been hit again in the stomach. “You’re telling me you’re jealous? When has Imai shown you any interest at all that wasn’t purely professional?”

  “He would have, if it wasn’t for you.” Izumi reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a small, short-barreled pistol.

  “Oh, shit.”

  Kim gasped. Imai stood in the doorway, motioning for her to be quiet.

  “I wasn’t going to do this myself, but after tonight and the way he treated me I want to watch you die. I’ll make it hurt. I’ll make you suffer the way I’ve suffered, wanting him and being denied,” Izumi said with a twisted grin. She cried out when Imai rushed up and grabbed her arm. They struggled, and Kim shoved herself at Izumi, knocking her to the floor. The gun fell from her hand, and Imai picked it up off the floor.

  A man yelled something in Japanese. Kim looked to the door to see goons with guns. One of them had Mandy. The man yelled again, and Imai dropped the gun.

  “Let the girl go. She has nothing to do with any of this.”

  “Sorry.” The man tightened his grip on Mandy’s throat. She made short, choking sounds. “You’ll understand if I keep her nice and close.”

  Kim cried out and tried to get to her feet. “Let her go!”

  Izumi grabbed Kim’s leg and wrenched it out from under her. Imai caught her as she stumbled.

  “Bastards!” Imai growled.

  “Don’t worry.” The man flashed them an infuriatingly calm smile. “I’m not a rapist ‑‑ none of us are. We’re assassins.”

  Another cry worked its way out of Kim’s throat, but Imai held her back from charging at the man. “Let her go, you son of a bitch!”

  Behind them, Izumi started to laugh. “It’s frustrating, isn’t it? To love someone and know that in a few minutes you’re never going to see them again.”

  Kim kicked at Izumi, narrowly missing her. There was a crazed gleam in the woman’s eyes that reminded Kim of the photos she’d seen of Charles Manson.

  “I had plans, Imai-san. Such wonderful plans for us, but you tainted them tonight, and now you have to die, too.”

  Kim tensed. “No.”

  “Michiko, you’re wrong,” Imai said, moving around Kim and placing himself in front of her. “Nothing’s been ‘tainted.’”

  “That woman stole you from me,” Izumi spat. “I would’ve done anything for you! But she blinded you, and now I know she’s stolen your heart.” She stepped back toward the three hit men and grabbed Mandy’s hair. “Start with this one, Uncle Mori.”

  “No!” Kim screamed and Imai rushed forward.

  Mori whipped his gun around, aiming it point blank at Imai. But Mandy used the distraction and instead of panicking, slammed her elbow deep into the gangster’s gut.

  He gasped for air and staggered forward, shoving the girl away. Imai took advantage of the diversion and rammed into him. Both men crashed backward through the door and tumbled onto the steel platform outside. Near the warehouse, sirens wailed in the distance.

  “Shit!” The remaining hit men tucked away their guns. “Someone called the fucking police.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Izumi shrieked and clawed at the front of their shirts. “Kill them!”

  “I’m not going back to jail for some crazy bitch’s scheme,” the taller one shouted before shoving Izumi backward into the side of the desk. “Let’s go!”

  As they bolted through the door, Izumi shrieked after them. “Come back here! Fuckers!” She dropped to her knees and picked up the gun Mori had dropped when Imai charged him.

  “Fine!” Izumi snarled at Kim. “I’d rather kill you myself.”

  She spun around ‑‑ straight into Kim’s fist.

  “Bitch!” Kim yelled, driving her punch right across Izumi’s face. Blood burst out of the woman’s nose, and she dropped the gun before stumbling back against the desk. “That’s for everything you put us through.”

  Dazed, Izumi tried to get up, but couldn’t manage, crumpling to the floor and passing out. Kim picked up the gun, and Mandy ran into her arms. “It’s okay, baby.” Kim pulled her close with her free hand.

  Just outside the office, Imai and the older gangster still fought.
Kim pushed Mandy behind her, shielding the girl with her body as they approached the doorway. She held the pistol with both hands. “Back off, creep, or I’ll shoot!”

  The gangster tossed Imai against a pile of crates, then spun, whipping a knife out of his jacket. “You have the balls?”

  “Damn right I do.” Kim’s glare never wavered.

  The police burst in downstairs and swarmed up and around them. Kim dropped the gun and shoved her way to the fallen Imai. She heard Jun and Koji call out as Imai struggled to sit. He cried out in pain.

  “Get an ambulance,” Kim yelled.

  “One’s on the way,” Koji shouted as he and the others ran to them.

  “What hurts?” Kim asked.

  “Just my fucking leg. The good one. Shit!”

  Kim felt the length of his tibia, wincing when he did. “I think it’s broken.”

  “Not again!”

  “Kim-san, you’re okay.” Koji dropped down next to her, pulling her into a tight hug. “I should’ve known right away that something was wrong. How could I be so stupid?”

  “How did you know where to find us?” Kim asked.

  “Imai’s car has a GPS system,” Koji explained. “The police were able to use it to track him here.”

  “That woman had everyone fooled.” Kim shivered. “The law can take care of her and everyone who had a part in this.”

  Two policemen walked out of the office, dragging Izumi between them. Koji put his hand on Kim’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “They found the other two men who were trying to slip away, too.”

  Mandy rushed out of the office and hurried to her mother.

  * * * * *

  Kim and Mandy rode in the ambulance with Imai. While his leg was being x-rayed and treated, the women were given check-ups as well. Apart from frazzled nerves and some minor scrapes and bruises, both were fine. Kyoru’s wife met them at the hospital with clean changes of clothing. After Mandy and Kim showered and dressed, they were shown to the staff lounge where Inspector Hirayama from the Metropolitan Police Department waited to interview them.