"Yeah, well, neither do I. The Ear burger is really good."
The guy made a face. "You devour something's ear?"
"Only kidding."
But he wished someone in the place would find the cojones to list their big, eight-ounce sirloin burger as an Ear Burger. That would be too cool.
"I did not come here to eat. I came here to talk."
"I can do both—I'm a multitasker." Jack dropped the menu. No contest. He'd decided on the burger. "So tell me again how you found me—and name names this time."
"When an object was stolen—"
"From your home on Maui, I assume."
He nodded. "Yes. I own a plantation."
"What do you grow?"
He looked flustered. "Why do you wish to know?"
"Call me curious."
"Papaya, sugar cane, macadamia—"
"Okay. So the 'object' was stolen from your Maui plantation. What then?"
"I… I hired detective."
"Why not go to the cops?"
"I wish to be discreet."
"Because…?"
Naka hesitated, then sighed. "Because ownership would be, how shall I say, called into question if existence of object become public."
Knew it.
Couldn't report the theft of a stolen object.
"And your detective blew it, I assume."
He nodded. "He discover name of thief but thief escape on plane to New York."
Now the pieces were fitting.
Naka's water and Jack's Hoegaarden arrived. The brew had a thin half-slice of lemon floating in the foam. He was not a fan of witbieren, but Hoegaarden was a treat if found on tap. Jack ordered the burger with cheese, bacon, and sautéed onions. Naka broke down and chose a salad.
As the waitress bustled off, Jack sipped his brew. Good. A light lemony flavor, great for summer or when he didn't want to feel logged down. Not on tap in many places around the city. Another reason to seek out the Ear.
He noticed another Asian—this one too looked Japanese—come in and sit two tables away. He glanced at them once, then studied the menu.
Jack turned to Naka. "So, with the thief in New York you needed someone local."
Naka nodded. "Yes, but I have no idea where to turn. I was discussing my problem with artist I know—I buy his sculpture and we become friends. He say his consort used to live in New York and might be able to help."
First, "alas" from Gary. Now, "consort." What gives?
"What's this artist's name?"
"Moki."
"Never heard of him. How about his 'consort'? What's hers?"
"I do not know. I never meet her. We speak only on phone. She give me your name and how to reach you. She call you a ronin and say I should not lie to you, that you are a good man who can be trusted but who can also be not nice at times."
" 'Not nice'? She said that?"
"Yes. Her exact words."
Who the hell…?
"You're taking her advice, of course."
"All I am telling you is true."
Jack put aside wondering about the mystery woman until later.
"Good. So, your detective at least learned the identity of your thief."
Naka further averted his gaze. "Unfortunately, we have since learned that he was traveling under false identity."
"Which was?"
"Eddie Cordero."
Jack leaned back. Why did that name sound familiar? He was sure he'd never heard it, but something about it set off a chime.
"So what did he steal?"
"A sword. A katana. I must have it back."
"And what's so special about this sword? What's it worth?"
"That is puzzle. It is terribly damaged and of no use or value to anyone but my family."