The Key to Midnight

employed two thousand people.
        'You have your Rolls-Royce?' Joanna asked.
        'Two.'
        'Is life better for having two?'
        'Sounds like a Zen question.'
        'And that sounds like an evasion.'
        'Money's neither dirty nor noble. It's a neutral substance, an inevitable part of civilization. But your voice, your talent - that's a gift from God.'
        For a long moment she regarded him in silence, and he knew she was judging him. She put down her chopsticks and patted her mouth with a napkin. 'Most men who started out with nothing and piled up a fortune by the age of forty would be insufferable egomaniacs.'
        'Not at all. There's nothing special about me. I know quite a few wealthy, self-made men and women, and most of them have every bit as much humility as any office clerk. Maybe more.'
        Their waitress, a pleasant round-faced woman dressed in a white yukata and short maroon jacket, brought dessert: peeled mandarin orange slices coated with finely shredded almonds and coconut.
        'Now we've talked too much about me,' Alex said. 'What about you? How did you get to Japan, to the Moonglow? I want to hear all about you.'
        'There's not a lot to hear.'
        'Nonsense.'
        'My life seems boring compared to yours.'
        She was either secretive about her past or genuinely intimidated by him. He couldn't decide which, but he continued to encourage her until she finally opened up.
        'I was born in New York City,' she said, 'but I don't remember it well. My father was an executive with one of those hydra-headed conglomerates. When I was ten, he was promoted to a top management position in a British subsidiary, so then I grew up in London and attended university there.'
        'What did you study?'
        'Music for a while… then Asian languages. I became interested in the Orient because of a brief, intense infatuation with a Japanese exchange student. He and I shared an apartment for a year. Our affair didn't last, but my interest in the Orient grew.'
        'When did you come to Japan?'
        'Almost twelve years ago.'
         Coincidental with the disappearance of Lisa Chelgrin, he thought. But he said nothing.
        With her chopsticks, Joanna picked up another slice of orange, ate it with visible delight, and licked away a paper-thin curl of coconut that clung to the corner of her mouth.
        To Alex, she resembled a tawny cat: sleek-muscled, full of kinetic energy.
        As though she had heard his thought, she turned her head with feline fluidity to gaze at him. Her eyes had that catlike quality of harmoniously blended opposites: sleepiness combined with total awareness, watchfulness mixed with cool indifference, and a proud isolation that coexisted with a longing for affection.
        She said, 'My parents were killed in an auto accident while they were on vacation in Brighton. I had no relatives in the States, no great desire to return there. And England seemed terribly dreary all of a sudden, full of bad memories. When my dad's life insurance was paid and the estate was settled, I took the money and came to Japan.'
        'Looking for that exchange student?'
        'Oh, no. That was over. I came because I thought I'd like it here. And I did. I spent a few months playing tourist. Then I put together an act and got a gig singing Japanese and American pop music in a Yokohama nightclub. I've always had a good voice but not always much stage presence. I was dreadful at the start, but I learned.'
        'How'd you get to Kyoto?'
        'There was a stopover in Tokyo, a better job than the one in Yokohama. A big club called Ongaku, Ongaku.'
        'Music, Music,' Alex translated. 'I know the place. I was there only five days ago!'
        'The club had a reasonably good house band back then, and they were willing to take chances. Some of them were familiar with jazz, and I taught them what I knew. The management was skeptical at first, but the customers loved the Big Band sound. A Japanese audience is usually more reserved than a Western audience, but the people at Ongaku really let down their hair when they heard us.'
        That first triumph was, Alex saw, a sweet recollection for Joanna. Smiling faintly, she stared at the garden without seeing it, eyes glazed, looking back along the curve of time.
        'It was a crazy place for a while. It really jumped. I surprised even myself. I was the main