Part the Eighth

     ‘What can I get you?’
     ‘I’m not sure.’
Alderman continued to study the menu.
     ‘Would you like me to order?’ James said, ‘I can see you haven’t done this before.’
     ‘Yes, please do. I have no idea what I’m looking at here.’
Alderman put down his menu as James ordered. The sushi bar was beginning to fill up in time for the evening rush. They had found seats at a counter.
     ‘Is that everything?’ the waitress asked.
     ‘We’d like to speak to the manager’ said Alderman.
     ‘Is something wrong already?’
     ‘No, not at all. We just want to ask him a few questions.’
The waitress disappeared through a door and came back a moment later with the manager, a Japanese man who frowned when he saw them, then approached with a broad, false, smile.
     ‘Hello, gentlemen. Is everything ok?’
     ‘Could we ask you about the Russian spy who was killed?’
     ‘Oh, but you have the wrong place. He was poisoned in Itsu on Piccadilly.’
     ‘They told us he came here a lot.’
     ‘Well... yes, he did, a lot. He was here at least twice a week. Probably more. But he didn't die here. On Piccadilly.’
     ‘We know. Was there ever anyone else with him? A woman?’
     ‘He came with men mostly, after work, you know, 6 o'clock. He always seemed to talk business. No women. Not that I remember. Maybe once or twice.’
     ‘So there was nothing strange, nothing unusual that you noticed?’
     ‘Well, aside from that he was Russian, but that’s hardly unusual these days is it?’
     'No, not really.'
The manager turned away to talk with one of his waitresses. James looked at Alderman.
     'What are you looking for?' he asked.
Alderman sighed and shook his head.
     'The woman. The killer. To stop a murder.'
     'No, I mean, what are you looking for? What does it matter, and how?' He paused, and seeing that Alderman would not answer, continued. 'Why are we doing this? Trying to solve a murder that hasn't happened?'
     'We're trying to save a woman's life.'
     'Really? Is that really what we're doing here? Or is there something else?'
The manager turned back to them.
     'Were there any other questions, gentlemen?'
     'Well,' Alderman began, deliberately not looking at James. 'There must be something.'
     'What?'
     'Something new? Something different?'
     'I don't understand.'
     'Something that you have only recently begun noticing?'
     'Well... I mean. There is the car the waitresses complain about. A silver Ford. They say it is outside a lot.'
     'Probably just illegal parking, or abandoned. Have you told the police? Is there anything else?'
     'I thought you were the police. What?' The manager looked puzzled. 'I mean... I thought the car was them. In the car, you know. I mean, there's always that man, sitting in it and watching. Like police surveillance or something.'
Alderman and James exchanged worried glances.
     'What are you talking about?' James asked. 'The police wouldn't put a car outside without telling you.'
     'Then?'
Alderman and James stood up and turned slowly to look out the window. A silver Ford was parked directly in front of the restaurant. There was the silhouette of a man at the wheel. He was looking back, directly at them.
     'James...' Alderman began.
     'Yes?'
     'That's our murderer.'