Pt. VI: The Screech Owl
During the short ride to the scene of the crime, or at least where the victim was discovered, Caitlin did all the talking. "Do you know Las Vegas is by far the fastest growing city and has grown 55% in the past eight years? Do you know over 150 people move to Las Vegas every day? Do you know Las Vegas has four churches for every casino?" On and on she went. Jack was getting slightly irritated at her incessant yapping but Brett didn't mind at all. She was sitting on his lap again in the Mercedes convertible.
Miyuki Huang's body was found in a synagogue, a traditional chabad, on the southern outskirts of Las Vegas. The late Mr. Huang was missing his penis and his body was drained of blood. He had last been seen in the company of a beautiful woman at the Comdex Convention on November 16.
Sam Hanson, the unofficial but very much in charge police liaison had already prepared a preliminary report by the time Jack Davis, Brett Sanderson and Caitlin Cornplanter arrived. Sam permitted them to view the badly decomposed body. Mr. Huang had been deceased for more than two weeks. Jack asked Caitlin if she wanted to wait outside the morgue but she insisted on viewing the corpse.
"I'll summarize what I have learned in the past two weeks about our friend Mr. Huang here," Sam began. "He was a yakuza. Japanese mafia. His interest in Comdex was technology. Rumor has it he was looking to purchase something in particular but nobody could quite put a finger on exactly what for me. Here's a copy of the entire report and all the witness statements. You can see for yourself what they said about the woman. I suggest you talk to his associate, Kazua Masuda, supposedly his computer guru. I don't understand most of the lingo they were spouting about Comdex."
"Jack, please, can we go?" Caitlin said abruptly. "I don't feel well." She was kicking him subtly in the shin. Jack didn't think she looked upset when she viewed the very ripe Mr. Huang.
"What is your problem, woman?" Jack chortled as they got back in his Mercedes.
"I'll tell you. Let's stop at a bar. I need some firewater."
"It's a little early for a shot of tequila and a beer, young lady," Jack chastised kindly. "I know a place. You can have one glass of merlot."
"Oh, you are giving me orders now? You want me to kiss and tell, buy me a bottle. And cabernet sauvignon not merlot."
The place was off the beaten path in a shopping center off the I-95 Lake Mead Boulevard West exit. A cafe and wine bar. Caitlin was starved as usual and ordered poached salmon and a bottle of Peju. She ordered a bottle of Gaulach Bundschu for the boys and steamed little neck clams and New Zealand mussels for both of them, only because they frowned when she said salmon. "Hey guys, it's on me. If you don't like it, I'll eat and drink it."
They drank the wine and chatted amicably until Caitlin, and they were waiting for her to get to whatever it was she was going to get to, got a very serious look on her face.
"It was the tebori tattoo on Mr. Huang's right hand that shocked me," Caitlin began. "Tebori as you may know is the Japanese word for hand tattooing practiced there for more than four centuries. Tattooing has a very long history in Japan dating back to 5,000 BC or older. Clay figures from that era with faces engraved to represent tattoo marks were discovered in tombs. I won't bore you with all history but tattooing in Japan became illegal. The yakuza relished tattooing because it was illegal and enhanced their reputation as outlaws."
Caitlin continued her dissertation. "The great ancient Japanese tattooists were given the title 'hori' and thought to be supernaturally gifted. As you observed Mr. Huang's body was covered with many tattoos. One was of utmost interest to me for two reasons. First, it was fresh. Probably a couple weeks' old at most. Fresh tattoos shed and stain clothing and such. When you went through his personal effects, didn't you notice the stains on his pants, on the right knee? The police report indicates his hand was resting knuckles down on his right knee. You get my drift here? Perhaps it was our beautiful perpetrator who gave Mr. Huang the new tattoo, either shortly before or even after she murdered him. Second, it was the nature of that tattoo on his right hand that particularly intrigued me. The tattoo was that of an asherah, an ancient phallic symbol. According to ancient Jewish pseudepigraphical literature, the same tattoo was found on a brother of Goliath named Lahmi."
"You will find Lahmi in, I believe 1 Chronicles, chapter 20, which describes his slaying. Lahmi was of the Rephaim, a branch of the Nephilim according to the legend. The Rephaim, the living dead. Og of Bashan was also of the Rephraim, a Hebrew word which actually means deceased yet they live."
"And just how would I know about tebori?" Caitlin asked. She pulled her flannel shirt out of her jeans and up to her bra and exposed the tattoo above her navel. She tried to distract their shock at her public display with, "Of course you are familiar with the earliest sacrilegious tattooing. Jehoaikim defied God by having his mistress tattoo the Sacred Name on his penis and then he had incestuous sexual encounters with members of his family. What's with you two guys? I can't tell if you are bug-eyed because of my tattoo or because of what I said."
Jack wasn't about to touch this one. He could tell Brett was trying to speak so Jack decided he would let good old Brett put his foot in his mouth instead of himself.
Brett stammered, "Well, uh, yeah, and wouldn't I just love to be the tattooist who did that one. I can see your tattoo is obviously a wolf, a blue-eyed wolf. Are you going to tell us about it?"