“Yes, perhaps you have. I own a farm out on 529 and sell my vegetables at the market on 72.”
Hachiman hummed as they loaded tea and mugs onto a tray. “I’ve seen you there then.”
They brought in the tea and sat down at the table, dispersing the mugs to each of us.
“My mom and I brought some sweet breads, if you’re interested —” But she waved at me, cutting me off.
“I’m diabetic and unable to eat them, but thank you for your hospitality.” She bowed to us, and Goro opened his notebook.
“Is this what Kano-san helps you with?” I looked over Goro’s shoulder and saw him write “diabetic” in his notebook.
She sipped her tea, setting the cup down lightly. “Yes, indeed. Kano-san is most helpful. She brings me new insulin, checks my heart and blood pressure, and she also makes sure I can get around. Diabetes can cause sores, too, so she checks me to make sure I’m healthy.”
I puffed with pride, hearing how Akiko takes good care of these people. “She sounds like an excellent nurse.”
“One of the best they have. I didn’t like the woman they sent yesterday. Where is Kano-san?”
Goro cleared his throat. “She’s under the weather and hopes to be back next week. Can you tell us if you remember her being here three weeks ago Friday?”
“Three weeks? I barely remember what happened yesterday.”
Goro frowned at his notebook. “Do you recall an officer stopping by to see you three weeks ago Saturday?” He double-checked his notes. “Around 19:00?”
She shook her head. “My son is here in the evenings because I tend to forget things like taking my insulin. He checks my blood sugar levels and administers it for me, then cooks dinner.”
Goro flipped back and forth between two pieces of paper. “The officer said that he spoke to your son and you told him no one visits you.”
“I did? I’m sorry. I don’t remember.” The woman’s face scrunched as she concentrated hard on recalling the day. She sighed, her body deflating to half its size. “My memory has really changed the last few years. I’m so forgetful.”
I glanced at Goro’s notes again and then back at the old woman. “Do you happen to keep a diary of your medication?”
“Ah! I do!” She stood up and crossed the room to a closet behind a sliding door. “I keep my medication in here.” She grabbed a small notebook from the shelf and brought it to us. “I should have thought of this. I write down my blood sugar checks and how much insulin I take, plus the readings from Kano-san when she comes here. This way I can show the doctor I’m taking care of myself.”
She handed me her notebook and I flipped back three weeks to find the information from when Akiko was here.
“It’s not really evidence because it’s not in her handwriting, but it’s not as if Hachiman-san could get these readings without Kano-san being here,” I said, turning the notebook over to Goro.
“Hmmm,” he said, stroking his chin. “Hachiman-san, do you ever remember a Friday when Kano-san did not come? When no one showed up?”
“Someone always comes no matter what. I have never had to call and complain.”
Goro nodded, satisfied. “That’s good to hear. Well, we won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you for speaking with us.”
She smiled as we all stood up. “Anytime I can help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Our second patient of the day wouldn’t even open the door to us.
“Please leave me alone. I already spoke to an officer about this weeks ago,” she said, from the crack in her doorway.
“I understand,” Goro said, trying to look inside. “And we’re not here to give you any problems. We only want to make sure that Kano-san is not falsely accused of skipping work on the day she was supposed to be here. At 18:00 on the Saturday after she was supposed to be here, you told the police she never showed up to your house. Is that correct?”
Goro did his best to ask questions while we smiled behind him in the freezing cold.
“That’s right.” I detected a head nod from my blocked view but I couldn’t see her face. Regardless, her voice sounded agitated and unnerved, cracking and short.
“Why didn’t you call the nursing service the day of to complain? They have no record of a call from you.”
“I… I forgot about it. My memory is bad. Can you come back some other time? I’m busy right now.”
“Of course,” Goro said, bowing and pulling a business card from his pocket. “Please take my card and call me if you remember anything.”
She didn’t open the door to accept the card so he slipped it underneath. Back out on the sidewalk, Goro sighed and gestured to a café next door. This was a busier street than Hachiman’s residential address five blocks to the south. Only a few residences were sandwiched among the local businesses: the café, a pharmacy, a saké shop, and a bank on the corner. Inside the café, we all bought coffees to warm ourselves up.
“Is it just me or did she seem scared?” Mom asked, as we sat down.
“It wasn’t just you.”
“I visit people’s houses all the time,” Goro said, pressing into his chair, “and that’s the first time I’ve ever been turned away at the door like that.”
We stared out the window at the block, the people walking bundled up against the cold, and the doors opening and closing at the pharmacy. Inside the pharmacy, the lights blazed.
“Oh, Mom wanted to let you know that she’s holding an opening night party at the bathhouse on Wednesday night. 19:00. Yasahiro-san from Sawayaka is going to be catering the whole thing. Hey, aren’t you still having lunch with him during the week? Kumi-chan couldn’t stop talking about it.”
I piped cool thoughts of winter with two meters of snow on the ground to my brain and shook my head.
“We stopped yesterday.”
Mom kicked my foot under the table, and I narrowed my eyes at her. I wasn’t saying anything.
I went back to staring out the window and the flash of a TV in the pharmacy caught my eye.
“Goro-chan,” I said, touching his arm and pointing across the street, “do you think maybe the security cameras in any of these businesses have views of the street?”
He sat up in his chair and peered out the window. “Hmmm, I’m not sure about the pharmacy, but…” He angled his head to look farther up the street. “That bank would definitely have them. It’s worth a shot to ask.”
“Good thinking, Mei-chan,” Mom whispered to me.
“But it’s the weekend. I’m sure I can go in and ask the pharmacy, but the bank will have to wait till Monday. And it may take a day. Then if we find anything, we’ll still need to run it by the prosecutor.” He sipped his coffee again, glancing around the café. “I’m going to question the people here too. Maybe one of them saw something. In the meantime, I don’t feel comfortable holding Akiko-san at the station, even if she’s there of her own free will. I’m going to call and have my partner drive her home.”
“Yay!” I pumped my fist at my side.
“I honestly don’t believe she did it, but something else is amiss here. We have more work to do.”
I opened my mouth to tell him about Tama and his weird behavior but sat back instead. If I told him, I’d have to tell him I was out with Yasahiro and that Tama made comments about my body. And though he knew of my scars too because Chiyo and Mom had been friends for ages, I wasn’t sure if Yasahiro wanted to broadcast our new “relationship,” if that’s even what it was.
I was going to have to look into Tama myself.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I stood at the door and watched Yasahiro emerge from his car, arrange his coat, and walk to the house with a bag in his hand. I was more nervous than I’d ever been in my life, my stomach so upset I wanted to run to the bathroom. Up until now, we were barely friends, meeting every day for lunch because I was an ass and challenged him to cook for me. Now, we were dating. It could all go sour tomorrow, but during this moment, he was here
to see me because he was interested in me. At least I hoped he was. I had so many doubts. I doubted I could make a life in the country work. I doubted I’d ever paint again. I doubted I’d solve Kano’s murder. And I especially doubted that a handsome, professional, and successful guy like Yasahiro could ever fall for me.
“Hi there,” he said, stepping up on the porch and coming through the door I held open for him. “Did you have a good Saturday?”
I took his coat and waited while he removed his shoes, set down his bag, and stepped into house slippers. “We were out all day with Goro-san and it was freezing. It took a forty minute bath for me to warm up when we got back.”
“The weather is warmer today. We should take a walk later.”
“Sure,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “Oh, and Akiko-chan is back home.” I pointed to her house where the lights were on and smoke streamed from the chimney. “She texted me last night.”
“Huh. I didn’t realize she lived across the street from you. Anyway, that’s good news,” he said, a smile widening between his reddened cheeks. He removed his glasses and wiped the fog off of them. “I hate wearing glasses in the winter.”
“You wear contacts, too, right? I noticed you weren’t wearing glasses the other day.”
“Yeah, but I like to give my eyes a break now and then.” He reached for my hand, and I had the urge to pull my fingers from his because I wasn’t used to it. But the sheer cold of his hands caused me to hold tighter.
“Oh no. You’re freezing.” I stepped a little closer and pressed his hand between both of mine, looking down at how small my hands were compared to his. I was embarrassed by my short, naked fingernails and dry cuticles, but his hands were much worse than mine.
I picked up his right hand and held it in front of my face. “What happened?” I pointed to a red, hot scar on the back. Tipping his hand side to side, a dozen scars became more apparent. I took his other hand too, and it was the same.
He smiled as he shook his head. “Don’t worry. It’s a hazard of the business. I burn myself all the time. Sometimes I work so fast in the kitchen, I forget that a pan is fresh out of the oven.”
“Mei-chan, is Yasahiro-san here?” Mom called from the kitchen, and I dropped Yasahiro’s hand as if it would burn me, jumping away from him.
He chuckled softly. “Can I get you to come a little closer?” He leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “I like being close to you. It’s been absolute agony having to sit across from you all week.”
I dipped my head. I said I wasn’t coy but… “When my mom isn’t around, okay?”
“I understand,” he said, and I could tell by his little head nods that he did. Respect to our elders was the way we lived and breathed in our society. Unless we were alone, we kept things platonic. No outward signs of affection, though I believed Yasahiro’s years in Paris, the city of love, would make this somewhat difficult. I’d seen the photos. People there held hands and even kissed in public. We might have been able to get away with that in the city or maybe even in town amongst friends, but certainly not in front of my mom or anyone of her generation. It just wasn’t done.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Saké for lunch and a rosemary plant.”
“A rosemary plant? I can’t keep anything alive.”
He laughed, walking past me into the house. “The plant is for your mom.”
Mimoji-chan came out from the back room, meowing at Yasahiro. He bent down and picked the cat up in his arms, making his way into the kitchen. I stood, frozen in shock. How many times had he been here before I moved home? Had he seen my room? Oh no, my room was a mess! I hoped he didn’t expect to see it today. I hesitated between running to my room to clean it and heading to the kitchen when he popped his head back out and looked for me.
“Are you coming?”
“Yeah.” No time. I’d have to keep him from my room as much as possible, and clean it, as well.
In the kitchen, Mom fussed over the plant Yasahiro gave her, pausing only to stir the pots on the stove. The two had an easy demeanor, like they’d known each other for years.
I perched myself on the stool while they hummed and tasted whatever Mom was cooking.
“Is this a miso soup?” Yasahiro asked, bent over the clay pot bubbling away.
“Miso, dashi, and mirin.” She sliced salmon on the island into two-centimeter thick chunks.
I tried not to roll my eyes. Another home cooked dish today when I’d rather eat oden from the convenience store. But I cleared my throat and sat up to gird myself for what was to come. If I was going to date Yasahiro, I’d have to like this stuff.
“You look sick,” Yasahiro said, smiling at me.
“Mei-chan hated my salmon hot pot noodles growing up. I’m determined to get her to like them again.” Mom added the salmon to the bubbling pot and pushed the slices down into the soup with her chopsticks.
I should have fought for my love of everything convenient and tasty, but it was no use. Eventually, I wouldn’t be able to avoid it anymore. And with this being Yasahiro’s life, if we actually lasted, there’d be no getting away from the slow food haute cuisine.
“Yasa-kun brought saké,” I said, changing the subject. I left my seat, grabbed the bottle from the bag, and some cups. “Want to get started?” I asked him, wiggling the cups in his direction. It was just past 12:00 but that never stopped me from drinking before.
“Sure,” he said, following me into the dining room.
We sat at the kotatsu, already set with chopsticks and bowls, our legs under the table, enveloped in warmth. I loved this kotatsu. Mom upgraded to the deluxe version two years ago with the comfortable cushions that you can nap on. I filled up the cups and we clinked them together, chanting, “Kampai!” before throwing back the saké.
He glanced up at the wall and stared at my painting of rice fields at daybreak, his face blank for several seconds before recognition washed over him. I hastily directed my eyes to the table and the saké bottle, but I couldn’t hide my blush. This was why I wouldn’t succeed as a painter. I could never handle a showing. I’d puke in the bathroom the whole time or stand in a corner with my eyes closed.
Yasahiro blew out a long breath. “You have no idea how long or how many times I’ve stared at that painting and wondered about it. I looked for a signature but didn’t find one.”
“I never signed my own paintings. Just put my hanko stamp on the back.”
“Why? You should take credit for your creations.”
I filled our cups again. “I didn’t want the attention. What if people hated it? Then they’d know it was me.”
“What if they loved it and wanted to tell you, or buy it?” His question was sincere, not a hint of anger.
I shrugged my shoulders. I assumed everyone would hate my work like my teacher did. “Her grasp of depth and light is weak and her form is sloppy. She should give up. No amount of teaching from me will save her now.” I remembered crying in my room while he said those things to my mom, and how much it hurt. After every lesson, I cried as he criticized my work, and he walked away from me disgusted the last time he had come to teach me. Tama made it worse when I got older. He was sweet on the surface, but when he critiqued my paintings, his honest opinion cut me till I bled. I could never shake it.
“Let’s talk about something else… Please…”
Yasahiro rubbed his socked feet against mine under the table and asked me about our trip out yesterday. I was grateful for the change in conversation so I filled him in on everything we learned.
“So Goro-san is going to get the videos this week and hopefully we’ll learn more.”
“If Akiko-san didn’t do it, then who do you think did?” Yasahiro filled up my cup again.
I drummed my fingers on the table for a minute, avoiding eye contact with him.
“I have an idea…” Yasahiro said, as Mom entered the room carrying the large clay pot and set it on the table. He paused for a moment to ladle out soup into e
veryone’s bowls. We bowed and said, “Itadakimasu,” together.
“What’s your idea, Yasahiro-san?” Mom sat forward as I filled up her cup with saké and we toasted again with her.
“After our trip to Izakaya Jūshi on Friday, I did a little research into that brewery Etsuko-san mentioned, and you’re not going to like what I found out.” He sighed, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “It turns out that if I had asked a few questions right up front, I would have known immediately, but anyway, it looks like the yakuza have a large stake in the brewery and several others in a few chains across the country.”
“What? What’s going on?” Mom glanced between us, her face blanking in fear.
“It’s okay, Mom. We’re just doing some research. Etsuko-san mentioned that Tama-chan has become friends with a brewery owner in Chiba. I wonder…” I stopped to slurp up noodles. “I wonder if Tama-chan has gotten mixed up with organized crime. That would explain why he wants to sell the family house so badly. Maybe he needs the money?”
Yasahiro gestured to me. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“No, not Tama-chan.” Mom shook her head. “He couldn’t be. And the police cleared him. They said he was at school the day of the attack.”
“Maybe he hired someone to do it?” Yasahiro asked, snapping up some salmon with his chopsticks.
“No. There was no sign of a struggle.” I pushed my empty bowl away. Wow, I ate that fast. “I feel like we’re on the right track, though. I should do some more internet searching.”
“Hasn’t that gotten you in enough trouble already?” He smiled at me, and I kicked him under the table. He laughed and rubbed his shin, and Mom spooned out more soup for everyone.
After lunch, Yasahiro invited me outside to go for a walk. We ambled along the property line slowly, our hands stuffed down in our pockets and faces turned up to the sun.
“Did you, um, tell your mother about us?” he asked, knocking his shoulder into mine.
I smiled at the ground, unable to look at him. I said I wasn’t coy, but I could barely make eye contact with him half the time. The way he looked at me, like he could read my thoughts, melted me. I had a hard time handling it. “I did. I told her you were a gentleman and asked to date me. I did not tell her I kissed you.”
The Daydreamer Detective Page 19