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Bonnie brought drinks over for the two of them, suggesting they go down to the beach. Sue Lee noticed it wasn’t beer this time.
“Tough day?” Sue Lee said as they were walking barefoot in the ocean.
“Yeah, it was a rough one. The hospital ship Solace had more casualties than we thought, but there’s more. The Japanese kid who wanted clemency is dead!” Bonnie stopped, picking up a shell.
“He’s dead?”
“Sudden death is not uncommon here.” She put her arm through Sue Lees as they continued walking.
“Did they tell you the reason the kid looked healthy the last time I saw him?”
“The doc told me it was complications caused by his surgery. His injuries from the plane crash were extensive. I’ve seen it before, when a body is fighting several infections, it can get into the bloodstream. He went into septic shock. We just don’t have the time here to do any research about the why’s of death. We only have time to patch them up,” She said, leading Sue Lee back to the bar.
“I will need to see his belongings before I send my report in tomorrow morning. Right now, I believe we need another drink.”
Sue Lee was turning the Omamori over in her hand, an amulet of good luck or protection. It was among the dead Japanese flyer’s possessions that she was going through while writing her report.
It was in a beautifully designed brocade bag woven with a silk pattern. Sue Lee found it strange for an American-born Japanese to have such an elaborate piece dedicated to this one particular Shinto shrine. Usually, such devotion was only for a person born in Japan. The child’s name was added to a list kept at that shrine, showing commitment to only that shrine.
The Omamori’s would be exchanged once a year to start the new year with new luck or protection. If they could not return to trade them, they were burnt to respect the deity that guarded them. Sue Lee was curious after seeing the elaborate bag. She opened the top and pulled out a small script with a prayer for the owner. The other was a scroll.
She unfolded it carefully and read it out loud. “The village of falling flowers.”
She discovered the same words on a puzzling transmission left in her apartment by Uncle Yoshi the day before Pearl Harbor’s attack. Her uncle’s store clerk copied that Japanese script and brought it to a German spy posing as a priest in Bodega Bay.
“So, many unanswered questions; why carry this text, is it a code of recognitions Also, If this guy was born in America, why would he have this amulet? Was this someone posing to be someone else? Should I add this to my report? Would they think I’m crazy?”
She needed to talk to Captain Hana one more time before finishing her report.
Sue Lee knocked on the doorframe before entering the open office. The Captain looked up from her paperwork and motioned for her to come in.
“Please sit, let me finish signing this. The Captain placed the file in her out tray. I was just going to find you to wish you a safe journey, now here you are.”
“I too came to say goodbye, but I need to clarify a few things about the pilot before I send in my report,” Sue Lee said, sitting down.
“How can I help?”
“When you were at Pembroke, you said you saw the deceased pilot at mixed gatherings. How often was that?”
“Well, only once. Maybe twice, the boy stood out because he was the only Japanese attending Brown.”
“Did you speak with him during any of the functions?” Sue Lee asked, checking her watch.
“No, the first time was after he arrived here; why all the questions?”
“Sorry, HQ needs them. One more question. Did he have any identifying markings on his body?”
“No visible marks, but Dr. Morris, who signed the death certificate, said there was a mark that looked like it had been a tattoo removed. It was on his upper left arm near the shoulder,” She said, pointing her finger at her arm.
“Thank you, captain, for your hospitality, perhaps our paths will cross again, and I will have the pleasure of playing the hostess,” Sue Lee stood up and offered her hand.