‘I’m just glad I finished it in time,’ Ayane said quietly.
After dinner the party relocated to the living room, where the men announced they would move on to whiskey. Yukiko wondered aloud if she could have some coffee, so Hiromi headed back into the kitchen.
‘Oh, I’ll make the coffee,’ Ayane said. ‘Why don’t you get some glasses and water for the whiskey? There’s some ice in the freezer.’ Ayane went to the sink and filled the kettle.
By the time Hiromi returned to the living room with a full tray, the conversation had turned to gardening. The Mashibas’ garden had numerous small outdoor lights placed at clever angles; even at night the various shrubs and potted plants were attractively displayed.
‘It must be tough taking care of so many flowers,’ Tatsuhiko said.
‘I’m a little fuzzy on the details,’ Yoshitaka replied, ‘but Ayane does seem to tend to them pretty regularly. There’s a few up on the second-floor balcony, too. She waters those every day. I couldn’t be bothered myself, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She really does love her flowers.’
Hiromi got the impression that Yoshitaka wasn’t particularly engaged in the topic of growing things; she was aware of his general indifference to the natural world.
Ayane brought coffee for three back from the kitchen. Remembering the whiskey, Hiromi hastily began pouring water into two glasses.
It was already past eleven when the Ikais started making rumblings about going home.
‘Well, that was a feast. And quite a present, too!’ Tatsu -hiko said, standing. ‘You should come over to our place next time – of course, it’s a complete mess with the baby and all.’
‘I’ll get around to cleaning soon enough,’ Yukiko said, jabbing her husband in the ribs before giving Ayane a smile. ‘You’ll have to come and see our little prince. Though he looks a bit more like a fat cherub right now.’
Ayane assured her she’d love to come and visit.
It was getting close to the time when Hiromi needed to be heading home, too, so she decided she would leave with the Ikais. Tatsuhiko offered to have their taxi drop her off at her apartment.
‘Oh, Hiromi, I’ll be out tomorrow,’ Ayane called out as the younger woman was slipping on her shoes in the entranceway.
‘That’s right, it’s a three-day weekend, isn’t it? Are you going away?’ Yukiko asked.
‘Not really, just to my parents’ place.’
‘That’s up in Sapporo?’
Ayane nodded, smiling. ‘Yes, my father isn’t doing so well, so I thought I would keep my mother company. It’s nothing serious, mind you.’
‘Well, that’s too bad. And here you are giving us a baby shower!’ Tatsuhiko looked sheepish.
Ayane shook her head. ‘No, please, don’t worry. Like I said, it’s nothing serious.’ Turning her attention back to Hiromi, she said, ‘If anything comes up, you have my mobile number.’
‘When are you coming back?’
‘Well …’ Ayane made a little frown. ‘I suppose I’ll have to give you a call when I know for sure. I won’t be away that long.’
‘Right, okay.’ Hiromi glanced towards Yoshitaka, but he was staring off into the distance.
Finally taking their leave, the three of them walked down a side road from the Mashibas’ house to the main street, where Tatsuhiko hailed a cab. As Hiromi would be dropped off first, she got in last.
‘I hope we didn’t talk too much about children,’ Yukiko said as the taxi pulled out.
‘So? It was a baby shower,’ Tatsuhiko said from the front seat.
‘I was just thinking that we should have been a little more considerate of their situation. They’re trying to have children, aren’t they?’
‘Yoshitaka said something along those lines a while back …’
‘What if they can’t have children? You haven’t heard anything, have you, Hiromi?’
‘No, nothing. Sorry.’
‘Oh,’ Yukiko muttered, sounding disappointed.
Hiromi wondered if they had offered her a ride home in the hope of prying information out of her.
The next morning, Hiromi left her apartment at nine o’clock, as usual, to head over to Anne’s House in Daikanyama. They’d converted an apartment into a classroom where they taught patchwork quilting. The school was Ayane’s brainchild, and thirty or so students came to learn techniques directly from Ayane Mita herself.
As she walked out of her building Hiromi was surprised to find Ayane standing there, a suitcase by her side. Ayane smiled when she saw her.
‘Ayane! Is something the matter?’
‘No, I just wanted to give you something before I left.’ Ayane reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a key.
‘What’s that for?’
‘It’s a key to our house. Like I said, I’m not exactly sure when I’ll be able to return home … I was hoping I could give you this just in case anything came up.’
‘Well, I guess so.’
‘Would it be a problem?’
‘No, it’s not that. But this is a spare, isn’t it? You have your own copy?’
‘Oh, I don’t need one. I can just call you on my way home, and if you can’t make it, my husband will meet me.’
‘If you’re sure …’
‘Thanks.’ Ayane took Hiromi’s hand and placed the key in it, closing her fingers until she was holding it tight.
‘So long,’ Ayane said, and she walked off, pulling her suitcase behind her.
‘Wait,’ Hiromi said, thinking. Then, more loudly: ‘Ayane?’
Ayane stopped and looked around. ‘Yes?’
‘Oh … nothing … just, have a safe trip.’
‘Thanks.’ Ayane gave a little wave and resumed walking.
The quilting classes ran until late in the evening, and Hiromi hardly had a moment to herself. By the time she was seeing the last students off, her neck and shoulders were as stiff as wood. She had just finished cleaning up the classroom when her mobile rang. She took a look at the display and swallowed. It was Yoshitaka.
‘Classes all done for the day?’ he asked as soon as she lifted the phone to her ear.
‘Just now, yes.’
‘Great. I’m out with some clients now, but I’ll be home as soon as I’m done. You should come over.’
He spoke so casually that Hiromi wasn’t sure how to respond.
‘Unless you have other plans?’
‘No, not at all … you’re sure it’s okay?’
‘Of course it’s okay. Suffice to say, she won’t be coming back for a while.’
Hiromi stared at her handbag. The key Ayane had given her that morning was tucked inside the inner pocket.
‘And there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,’ Yoshitaka added.
‘What?’
‘I’ll tell you when I see you. I’ll be home at nine. Just give me a call before you come.’ He hung up before she could reply.
Hiromi ate by herself at a pasta place, then gave Yoshitaka a call. He was home, and there was excitement in his voice when he told her to come over quickly.
In the taxi on the way to the Mashibas’, Hiromi languished in a bit of self-loathing. It irked her that Yoshitaka didn’t seem to have a shred of guilt about what was going on. Yet, at the same time, she had to admit her own happiness.
Yoshitaka greeted her at the front door, smiling. He didn’t hurry to get her inside. His every movement was calm and assured. In the living room, she smelled coffee brewing.
‘It’s been months since I made my own coffee,’ Yoshitaka said, coming up from the kitchen with a cup in each hand, neither of them on a saucer. ‘Hope I didn’t mess up.’ He handed her one of the cups.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you set foot in the kitchen.’
‘Maybe not! I haven’t done much of anything since I got married.’
‘She’s a very devoted woman,’ Hiromi murmured. She sipped her coffee. It was dark and rather bitter.
The corners of Yos
hitaka’s mouth curled downward. ‘I put in too much coffee.’
‘Want me to make some more?’
‘No, don’t bother with it now. You can make the next pot. And I didn’t ask you here to chat about coffee.’ He set his cup down on the marble tabletop. ‘I talked to her yesterday.’
‘I thought you might’ve.’
‘I didn’t tell her it was you. She thinks it’s someone she doesn’t know. If she believes me at all, that is.’
Hiromi thought back to that morning, to Ayane’s face when she handed her the key. She hadn’t seen any scheme behind that smile.
‘What did she say?’
‘She accepted it.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. I told you she would.’
Hiromi shook her head. ‘Maybe it’s not my place to say this, but I can’t understand how she could just accept it.’
‘Because those were the rules. Rules I made, but still … At any rate, you’ve got nothing to worry about. It’s all settled.’
‘So we’re good, then?’
‘Better than good,’ Yoshitaka said, putting an arm around Hiromi’s shoulder and drawing her close. Hiromi let herself fall into his embrace. She felt his lips by her ear. ‘You should stay the night.’
‘In the bedroom?’
Yoshitaka’s mouth curled into a little smile. ‘We have a guest room. It’s got a double bed.’
Hiromi nodded, still feeling a strange mix of bewilderment, relief, and lingering unease.
The next morning, Hiromi was in the kitchen about to make coffee when Yoshitaka walked in and asked her to show him how.
‘I only know what Ayane taught me.’
‘Good enough. Show me,’ Yoshitaka said, crossing his arms.
Hiromi placed a paper filter in the dripper and poured in coffee grounds with a measuring spoon. Yoshitaka leaned closer to check the amount.
‘First you put in a little hot water. Just a little. Then you wait for the grounds to sort of swell.’ She poured a little boiling water from the kettle into the dripper, waited about twenty seconds, then began to pour again. ‘You pour it in a circle. The coffee rises up a touch as you pour, and you want it to stay at about the same level. Then, as you’re pouring, you watch the lines on the serving pot and take the dripper off the moment you have enough for two. Leave it on and it’ll get weak.’
‘Surprisingly complicated.’
‘Didn’t you used to make coffee for yourself?’
‘With a coffeemaker, yeah. Ayane threw it out when we got married. She said coffee brewed this way tasted better.’
‘Knowing you’re a coffee addict, she probably just wanted to make sure you were getting the best possible cup.’
Yoshitaka smiled faintly and shook his head. He always did that whenever Hiromi started talking about the depth of Ayane’s devotion to him or her school or her work.
When he drank his coffee he did admit it tasted much better.
As he sipped his coffee, Hiromi got her things together. Anne’s House was closed on Sundays, but Hiromi worked as a part-time instructor at a traditional arts school in Ikebukuro, another job she’d taken over from Ayane.
On her way out, Yoshitaka asked her to call him when she was done so they could have dinner together. Hiromi had no reason to say no.
*
It was after seven o’clock by the time she was done at the art school. She picked up her phone and called while she was getting ready to leave, but he wasn’t answering his mobile. She let it ring for a while, then hung up and tried the Mashibas’ landline with the same result.
Maybe he’s stepped out somewhere? But he never leaves his mobile phone behind.
Hiromi decided to go to his house anyway. She tried calling several times on her way there, but there was still no answer.
Eventually, she found herself in front of the house. She looked up from the gate and saw that the light was on in the living room. Still no one answered the phone or came to the door.
Shrugging, she fished Ayane’s key out of her bag, unlocked the front door, and went in. The light was on in the entryway.
Hiromi took off her shoes and walked down the short hallway. She detected a faint scent of coffee. Yoshitaka must have made more during the day.
She opened the door to the living room and froze.
Yoshitaka lay, sprawled on the wooden floor, motionless. Dark liquid had spilled from a coffee cup lying next to him, spreading in a small puddle on the wood.
I have to call an ambulance – what’s the number, that number they tell you to call, that number? With shaking hands, Hiromi took out her phone. But she couldn’t for the life of her remember what the number was.
THREE
Elegant houses lined the gently sloping curve of the road. Even in the thin light from the streetlights it was obvious that no expense had been spared in their upkeep. The sort of people who lived in this neighbourhood never had to save to afford a down payment.
Several police cars were parked along the street. Kus anagi tapped the taxi driver on the shoulder. ‘Right here’s good.’
He got out, checking his watch as he headed towards the scene. It was already past ten. Guess I’m not seeing that movie. He had missed it at the cinema, then held off on renting the DVD when he heard it would be on television. When the call came that evening, he left the house in such a hurry that he’d forgotten to set his recorder.
Due to the late hour, there didn’t seem to be any onlookers. Not even the news crews had arrived. Just give me a cut-and-dried case, and the movie can wait, he thought without much hope.
A police officer, his face set in an appropriately stern expression, was standing guard in front of the house. Kus -anagi flashed his badge, and the officer wished him a good evening.
He paused before going up to the door. It looked like all the lights in the place were on. There were faintly audible voices inside.
He glanced across the front lawn and saw someone standing by a hedgerow. It was too dark to make out her features, but from her stature and the length of her hair, Kusanagi had a pretty good idea who it was. He walked over.
‘What are you doing here?’
Kaoru Utsumi turned around slowly, utterly unsurprised to see him. ‘Good evening, Detective.’
‘What are you doing outside?’ he asked.
‘Nothing much. Just checking out the hedge and the flowers in the garden here. There’re some up on the balcony, too.’
‘Some what?’
She pointed upward. ‘Flowers.’
Kusanagi looked up and saw that there was, indeed, a second-storey balcony on this side of the house, with flowers and bushy leaves sticking out through the railings. Nothing about it seemed particularly noteworthy.
He returned his gaze to the young detective. ‘Let’s try this again,’ he said. ‘Why aren’t you inside?’
‘Population density. There’s already a crowd in there.’
‘Not big on mingling, are you?’
‘I just don’t think there’s much point in looking at something everyone else has already seen. I didn’t want to get in Forensics’ way, so I took it upon myself to examine the exterior of the house.’
‘But you’re not examining anything. You’re looking at flowers.’
‘I’ve already completed a circuit of the premises.’
‘Fine. Did you at least check out the scene of the crime?’
‘I haven’t checked out anything in there. I turned around at the entrance,’ Utsumi replied.
Kusanagi shot her a quizzical look. In his experience, a detective’s natural instinct was to want to examine the scene of the crime first – an instinct that apparently wasn’t shared by the department’s new recruit.
‘I appreciate that you’ve given this a lot of thought, but you’re still coming in there with me. There’s a lot of things you need to see with your own eyes if you want to do this job right.’
Kusanagi turned and walked back towards the door. Utsum
i quietly followed.
Inside, the house was packed. Kusanagi saw officers from the local precinct milling about as well as people from his own department.
Junior Detective Kishitani spotted him and came over. With a wry smile on his lips he said, ‘Sorry to call you into work this early, sir.’
‘You got a problem with the hours I keep?’ Kusanagi grumbled. Then: ‘Is this even a homicide?’
‘Not sure yet. But it looks likely.’
‘Explain it to me. And use small words.’
‘Well, the gist of it is, a man, the owner of the house, died. In the living room. Alone.’
‘We’re sure he was alone?’
‘Come over here.’
Kishitani led Kusanagi into the living room, with Utsumi trailing behind. It was a big room – over five hundred square feet, he guessed. There were two green leather sofas and a low marble table in the middle.
An outline of the body had been drawn in white tape on the floor next to the table. The body itself was already gone. Kishitani stood looking down at it for a moment before turning back to Kusanagi. ‘The deceased’s name is Yoshitaka Mashiba, married, no kids.’
‘I heard that before coming over,’ Kusanagi said. ‘He was the president of some company, right?’
‘Yeah, an IT place. He wasn’t at work today, though, it being Sunday and all. We’re not even sure yet if he left the house at all.’
‘The floor was wet?’ Kusanagi asked, noting a slight stain on the flooring.
‘Coffee. They found it spilled next to the body. One of the guys in Forensics got it with a syringe. There was a coffee cup, too, on its side.’
‘Who found the body?’
‘Er …’ Kishitani opened his memo pad. ‘Woman by the name of Hiromi Wakayama. One of the wife’s pupils. Actually, more like her apprentice.’
‘Apprentice what?’
‘The wife is a famous patchwork quilter.’
‘There are famous quilters?’
‘Apparently. It was my first time hearing about it, too. Maybe a woman would know?’ Kishitani looked over at Utsumi. ‘You ever heard of an “Ayane Mita”?’ He showed her his memo pad where he had written down the characters for her name.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘And why would you expect a woman to know?’