"Good evening, Lieutenant."

We shook hands. Connor looked me up and down, and nodded approvingly. "Good. Very presentable."

I said, "I used to work press. You never knew when you might have to appear in front of cameras."

He nodded. "And now you're the SSO on call?"

"That's right."

"How long have you been a liaison?"

"Six months."

"You speak Japanese?"

"A little. I'm taking lessons."

"Give me a few minutes to change." He turned and disappeared behind the shoji screen. "This is a homicide?"

"Yes."

"Who notified you?"

"Tom Graham. He's the OIC at the crime scene. He said the Japanese were insisting on a liaison officer being present."

"I see." There was a pause. I heard running water. "Is that a common request?"

"No. In fact, I've never heard of it happening. Usually, officers call for a liaison because they have a language problem. I've never heard of the Japanese asking for a liaison."

"Neither have I," Connor said. "Did Graham ask you to bring me? Because Tom Graham and I don't always admire each other."

"No," I said. "Fred Hoffmann suggested I bring you in. He felt I didn't have enough experience. He said he was going to call you for me."

"Then you were called at home twice?" Connor said.

"Yes."

"I see." He reappeared, wearing a dark blue suit, knotting his tie. "It seems that time is critical." He glanced at his watch. "When did Graham call you?"

"About nine."

"Then forty minutes have already passed. Let's go, Lieutenant. Where's your car?"