t was twelve-thirty when Gotanda called.

"Things have been crazy. Sorry about the late hour, but could I ask you to drive to my place this time?" No problem, I told him, and I was on my way.

He came down immediately after I rang the doorbell. To my surprise, he really had a trench coat on. Which did suit him. No dark glasses though, just a pair of normal glasses, which gave him the look of an intellectual.

"Again, sorry this had to be so late," Gotanda said as we greeted each other. "What a day it's been. Incredibly busy. And I have to go to Yokohama after this. A shoot first thing in the morning, so they booked me a room."

"Why don't I drive you there?" I offered. "We'd have more time to talk, and it'd save you some time too."

"Great, if you're sure you don't mind."

Not at all, I assured him, and he quickly got his things together.

"Nice car," he said as we settled into the Subaru. "Honest, it's got a nice feel to it."

"We have an understanding."

"Uh-huh," he said, nodding as if he understood. I slid a Beach Boys tape into the stereo and we were on our way. As soon as we got on the expressway to Yokohama, it began to drizzle. I turned on the wipers, then stopped them, then turned them on again. It was a very fine spring rain.

"What do you remember about junior high?" Gotanda asked out of nowhere.

"That I was a hopeless nobody," I answered.

"Anything else?"

I thought a second. "You're going to think I'm nuts, but I remember you lighting Bunsen burners in science class."

"What?"

"It was just, I don't know, so perfect. You made lighting the flame seem like a great moment in the history of mankind."

"Well of course it was," he laughed. "But, okay, I get what you mean. Believe me, it was never my intention to show anybody up. Even though I guess I did look like a prima donna. Ever since I was a kid, people were always watching me. Why? I don't know. Naturally I knew it was happening, and it made me into a little performer. It just stuck with me. I was always acting. So when I actually became an actor, it was a relief. I didn't have to be embarrassed about it," he said, placing one palm atop the other on his lap and gazing down at them. "I hope I wasn't a total shit, or was I?"

"Nah," I said. "But that's not what I meant at all. I only wanted to say you lighted that burner with style. I'd almost like to see you do it again sometime."

He laughed and wiped his glasses. With style, of course. "Anytime," he said. "I'll be waiting with the burner and matches."

"I'll bring a pillow in case I swoon," I added. We laughed some more. Then Gotanda put his glasses back on and turned the stereo down slightly. "Shall we get on with our talk, about that dead person?"

"It was Mei," I said flat out, peering out beyond the wipers. "She's been murdered. Her body was found in a hotel in Akasaka, strangled with a stocking. Killer unknown."

Gotanda faced me abruptly. It took him three or four seconds to grasp what I had said, then his face wrenched in realization. Like a window frame twisting in a big quake. I glanced over at him out of the corner of my eye. He seemed to be in shock.

"When was she killed?" he asked finally.

I gave him the details, and he was quiet again, as if to set his feelings in order.

"That's horrible," he finally said, shaking his head. "Horrible. Why? Why would anyone kill Mei? She was such a good kid. It's just — " He shook his head again.

"A good kid, yes," I said. "Right out of a fairy tale."

He sighed deeply, his face suddenly aged with fatigue. Until this moment he had managed to contain an unbearable strain within himself. Yet, even fatigue was becoming to him, serving as a rather distinguished accent on his life. Unfair to say, I suppose, hurt and tired as he was. Whatever he touched, even pain, seemed to turn to refinement.

"The three of us used to talk until dawn," Gotanda spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "Me and Mei and Kiki. Maybe it was right out of a fairy tale, but where do you even find a fairy tale these days? Man, those times were wonderful."

I stared at the road ahead, Gotanda stared at the dashboard. I turned the wipers on and off. The stereo played on, low, the Beach Boys and sun and surf and dune buggies.

"How did you know she'd been killed?" Gotanda asked.

"The police hauled me in," I explained. "I'd given Mei my business card, and she had it deep in her wallet. Matter of fact, it was the only thing on her with any kind of name. So they picked me up for questioning. Wanted to know how I knew her. A couple of tough, dumb flatfoots. But I lied. I told them I'd never seen her before."

"Why'd you lie?"

"Why? You were the one introduced us, buying those two girls that night, right? What do you think would've happened if I'd blabbed? Have you lost your thinking gear?" "Forgive me," he said. "I'm a little confused. Stupid." "The cops didn't believe me at all. They could smell the lies. They put me through the wringer for three days. A thorough job, careful not to infringe on the law. They never touched me, bodily, that is. But it was hard. I'm getting old, I'm not what I used to be. They pretended they didn't have a place for me to sleep and threw me in the tank. Technically, I wasn't in the tank because they didn't lock the door. It was no picnic, let me tell you. You think you're losing your mind."

"Know what you mean. I was held for two weeks once. Not pleasant. I didn't get to see the sun the whole time. I thought I'd never get out. It gets to you, how they ride you. They know how to break you," he said, staring at his fingernails. "But three days and you didn't talk?"

"What do you think? Of course not. If I started in midway with 'Well, actually —,' it'd be all over. Once you take a line, you've got to stick by it to the end."

Gotanda's face twisted again. "Forgive me. Introducing you to Mei and getting you caught up in this mess."

"No reason for you to apologize," I said. "I thoroughly enjoyed myself with her. That was then. This is something else. It's not your fault she's dead."

"No, it's not, but still you had to lie to the cops for me. You got dragged into the middle of it. That was my fault. Because I was involved."

I turned to give him a good hard look and then went straight to the heart of the matter. "That isn't a problem. Don't worry about it. No need to apologize. You got your stake and I respect it, fully. The bigger problem is, they weren't able to identify her. She's got relatives, hasn't she? We want to catch the psycho who killed her, don't we? I would have told them everything if I could. That's what's eating me. Mei didn't deserve to die that way. At the least, she should have a name."

Gotanda closed his eyes for so long I almost thought he'd gone to sleep. The Beach Boys had finished their serenade. I pushed the EJECT button. Everything went dead silent. There was only the drone of the tires on the wet asphalt.

"I'll call the police," Gotanda intoned as he opened his eyes. "An anonymous phone call. And I'll name the club she was working for. That way they can get on with their investigation."

"Genius," I said. "You've got a good head on your shoulders. Why didn't I think of it? But suppose the police put the screws to the club. They'll find out that a few days before she was killed, you had Mei sent to your place. Bingo, they've got you downtown. What's the point of me keeping my mouth shut for three days?"

"You're right. You got me. I am confused."

"When you're confused," I said, "the best thing to do is sit tight and wait for the coast to clear. It's only a matter of time. A woman got strangled to death in a hotel. It happens. People forget about it. No reason to feel guilty. Just lie low and keep quiet. You start acting smart now, you'll only make things worse."

Maybe I was being hard on him. My tone a little too cold, my words too harsh, but hell, I was in this pretty deep too. I apologized. "Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to light into you like that. I couldn't lift a finger to help the girl. That's all, it's not your fault."

"But it is my fault," he insisted.

Silence was growing oppressive, so I put on another tape. Ben E. King's "Spanish Harlem." We said nothing more until we reached Yokohama, an unspoken bond between us. I wanted to pat him on the back and say it's okay, it's all over and done with. But a person had died. She was cold, alone, and nameless. That fact weighed more heavily than I could bear.

"Who do you think killed her?" asked Gotanda much later.

"Who knows?" I said. "In that line of work, you get all types. Anything can happen." "But the club is real careful about screening the clients. It's so organized, they should be able to find the guy easily."

"You'd think so, but it could be anybody else too. Whatever, she made a mistake, and it turned out to be fatal. It happens, I guess," I said. "She lived in this world of images that was safe and pure. But there are rules even in that world. Somebody breaks the rules and the fantasy's kaput."

"It doesn't make sense," said Gotanda. "Why would such a beautiful, intelligent girl want to become a hooker? Why? She could've had a good life, a decent job. She could've modeled, she could've married a rich guy. How come a hooker? Okay, the money's good, but she didn't seem all that interested in money. You think she really wanted this fairy tale?"

"Maybe," I answered. "Like me, like you. Like everybody. Only everybody goes about it different. That's why you never know what's going to happen."

When we pulled up to the New Grand Hotel in Yokohama, Gotanda suggested I stay over too. "I'm sure we can get you a room. We'll call up room service and knock back some drinks. I don't think I can sleep right away."

I shook my head, no. "I'll take a rain check on those drinks. I'm pretty worn out. I'll just go home and collapse."

"You sure?" he said. "Well, thanks for driving me down here. I feel like I haven't said a responsible thing all day."

"You're tired too," I said. "But listen, with someone who's dead, there's no rush to make amends. She'll be dead for a long time. Let's think things over when we're in better spirits. You hear what I'm saying? She's dead. Extremely, irrevocably dead. Feel guilt, feel whatever you like, she's not coming back."

Gotanda nodded. "I hear you."

"Good night," I said.

"Thanks again," he said.

"Light a Bunsen burner for me next time, and we'll call it even." He smiled as he got out of the car. "Strange to say, but you're the only friend I have who'd say that. Not another soul. We meet after twenty years, and the thing you chose to remember!"

At that he was off. He turned up the collar of his trench coat and headed through the spring drizzle into the New Grand. Almost like Casablanca. The beginning of a beautiful friendship

The rain kept coming down, steadily, evenly. Soft and gentle, drawing new green shoots up into the spring night. Extremely, irrevocably dead, I said aloud.

I should have stayed overnight and drunk with Gotanda, it occurred to me. Gotanda and I had four things in common. One, we'd been in the same science lab unit. Two, we were both divorced. Three, we'd both slept with Kiki. And four, we'd both slept with Mei. Now Mei was dead. Extremely, irrevocably. Worth a drink together. Why didn't I stay and keep him company? I had time on my hands, I had nothing planned for tomorrow. What prevented me? Maybe, somehow, I didn't want it to seem like a scene from a movie. Poor guy. He was just so unbearably charming. And it wasn't his fault. Probably.

When I got back to my Shibuya apartment, I poured myself a whiskey and watched the cars on the expressway through the blinds.