The clerk crossed to her and she passed him a file and three videotapes. Every eye in the courtroom followed this file up to the high bench where it joined the case for the prosecution. The middle judge placed the files before him, one on top of the other. ‘The court will review the evidence and reconvene for sentencing in three weeks – Monday 6 June,’ he said, and with that the three judges rose and filed out, their clerk carrying the paperwork behind them. The prosecution exited through a door on their side of the court, and the public, having been suppressed into silence, burst into speech. As Kaitarō Nakamura was once more bound in rope, cuffed and led out by his guards, my grandfather turned towards the gathered press. Yurie Kagashima, the young defence counsel, sat still at her table and watched.
A clock ticked behind me as I sifted through Grandpa’s papers, scattering them into disarray, searching for the final court judgement. I combed through his file again and again but there was nothing. Judgements are not published or distributed. My grandfather certainly would not have been sent one, but then, having attended the trial, he would have known its outcome.
I thought of how neatly everything had been filed away, a matter accomplished. I thought of my grandfather’s energy in raising me, the power of his will, his desire to exact revenge on Kaitarō, and I knew that between us all that was left for me to do was to wait for him to come home and ask him what it was like to kill.
Alone in his office, I picked up the envelope my mother had sealed with a red-crowned crane all those years ago. Lifting the flap, I pulled out the Polaroid picture within. There they were: young and in love, so happy. Two people frozen in time. Two people, now dead.
Slowly, I began to put the files back together, reordering everything page by page. Yet, despite all I had lost and found in those documents, none of them answered my main question, which was how had it come to this? The facts remained before me, immutable and clear; I was just waiting for them to click into place, and somehow I knew, with a dread that did not waver, that soon they would. Once more, I went over the details of the case in my head. I thought of my grandfather, of his silence to my mother before she died. I thought of the footprint in the apartment that did not match the size of his shoes or Kaitarō’s. The unidentified saliva on her body. I thought of my father, who had started it all and had retreated to a life in Nagoya. I thought of Kaitarō, who after his initial silence had wanted his story to be heard. And, finally, I thought of my mother, hoping for a new life. I thought of everyone who had been involved that day, in the last hours of her life, as I pulled open my grandfather’s filing cabinet and pushed back the other hanging files. And there, lying at the bottom of the deep drawer, in an envelope marked with her name, was a tape.
I remember reading the label several times. It did not make much sense initially, but eventually I realised with a pain that punched and twisted in my gut that it could only be one thing.
It was a security tape. The name of the bakery on the label was unfamiliar, but its location was in Shinagawa, and the footage was recorded on the day my mother died.
And so it turned out that what had haunted me all along – the fear that every member of my family would be tarnished by the events and changed beyond recognition by them – was true. Not only were we all involved in my mother’s death, but each and every one of us was guilty, even me.
Rina
The Truth
Rina pulled open the blinds, allowing the morning light to flood into her new home. It was March, the month of new life, and as she looked at the sun pouring across the floor she remembered the moment this place had truly become her home, when she and Kaitarō had first been given the keys.
They had lain side by side in the empty apartment. It had been warm enough to slowly strip the clothes from their bodies, to lie in the sun shining in from the windows and look at each other. The completeness they had found in Hokkaido was there with them as they lay on the bare beechwood floor in Shinagawa.
‘Will it do?’ Kaitarō asked, looking around at the empty space, the blank walls and stripped kitchen.
‘It’s lovely.’
‘I’ve some ideas for Sumi’s room. I should show you – ‘ he said, moving to get up.
‘Not yet,’ she replied, tugging him back down to her, and he acquiesced without complaint. Rina nestled close, running her hands over his stomach, savouring the texture of him, the smell of her own skin mingling with his. She played with the smattering of hair on his chest and bit him idly. He turned and hugged her, pushing her onto her back. Through the clear windows, naked without their blinds, the light moved across their skin in bright, wet splashes with nothing to cast a shadow upon it.
Rina smiled at the memory. They had a thing for floors it seemed, how embarrassing. She placed her fingertips on the glass window in front of her. Far from the tall, wide views that she had in Ebisu, this window was a rectangle set into the wall, revealing the chunky concrete apartment blocks and external staircases of Shinagawa. One of the things she liked most about this apartment was its position near the top of the building and the light this afforded them – this, and the fact that there was not a modern condominium in sight.
Rina turned back to the apartment; it was almost finished. The furniture from her marriage had been given to Satō along with the flat in Ebisu, and in the months before she and Kaitarō had found this place, she had returned to Meguro to live with Yoshi and Sumiko. Now though, after so much preparation, their home was nearly ready, and she and Kaitarō had finally started their own small photography firm.
One of their first projects was a portrait service they offered to the neighbourhood. When Rina looked back, she was amazed at the transition in their work, how it had evolved from landscapes to themselves and now to this. She and Kaitarō had such responsibility behind the camera, but they found that they enjoyed the trust given so freely to portrait photographers; it was something they treasured. Most days they worked together, managing the orders, but they also alternated so that they each could work independently. While one was out at shoots or in the local communal darkroom developing, the other kept house, shopping at the market or browsing second-hand stores for furniture. Everything was coming together in this one small space that was finally theirs alone.
Along one side of the living room, Rina had placed a sideboard with cupboards for storage; these contained blankets and a portable heater for the colder months. At the far end was a tiny kitchen, and just before it, a square black dining table, low to the ground and surrounded by cushions on four flat seats. Rina thought of all the things that would happen at that table – family meals, Sumi’s homework, Rina’s sewing and the creation of costumes for local festivals. Perhaps, in time, another baby would come and Rina and Kaitarō would sit up late there going over the accounts long after both children were asleep.
Off the living room was a short corridor leading to the two bedrooms and a family bathroom. Rina had dressed the opening of the corridor with a noren, a silk screen made from a vintage kimono she had found in the Ichiroya flea market. The kimono was part of a wedding trousseau, an item that had been kept in the same family for decades, but it had been damaged in a fire and the material sold on. She loved markets and all the unexpected things you could find there.
As she worked with the fabric, Rina had been careful to preserve the central panel across the back, cutting only one slit in the silk, allowing the picture to remain intact, while providing a route through to the private areas of the flat. Now the embroidery shimmered in the morning light. In the middle of the panel were trees, their jade and emerald leaves spreading out in broad fans. Above this in ascending stripes were the golden tones of the sky and then, where the clouds should be, a flock of cranes in flight, their wings delineated in red, cream, black and brown. Rina loved how the colours of the screen complemented the room. She had thought of it that morning while at the florist and brought back a selection of flowers now wrapped in b
rown paper and waiting on the sideboard.
She walked into the kitchen and fetched a small crystal vase (a housewarming present from her father) and also her scissors. She was not trained in ikebana, was self-taught, but she preferred it that way. In the tall condominiums of Ebisu, floors and floors of women would join together for flower-arranging mornings, boasting to each other about which instructor they had managed to secure, but Rina had never felt able to join them. Now she did not have to. First, she selected a green chrysanthemum with a long thin stem; each of its petals at once distinct and part of the group. Next was a bird of paradise flower with its red sheaves of flame tinted orange and yellow at the edges, and finally a branch of palm. Pressing her nail against the base of the frond and having made a small cut, Rina peeled it away in a long strip of green. She did this three times and wound the strands around the other flowers, creating a diagonal sash that held the stems upright, secured and still.
The ikebana complete, she placed it in the vase, smoothing out the strips of palm so that they stood tall and striking against the red and lime-green of the bouquet. Then she smiled. It would be perfect for when Kaitarō came home, a vibrant welcome.
He had left early that morning and would be out all day photographing children’s birthday parties. Her task was to finish painting Sumiko’s room and affix the remaining silver-star border to the walls. It was Sumi’s last day at school before spring break. Rina had so much planned for them in the weeks ahead, including moving her daughter into their home. Yoshi wanted them to take it slow, to let Sumi stay a while longer with him, but Rina would not permit it. She and Kai had waited long enough. She would finish Sumi’s room and as soon as everything was ready, they would finally live together as a family.
Rina changed into some old dungarees already smudged with paint and picked up the phone to call Kyubey. She would pre-order bentos to be delivered, and then when Kaitarō finally came home they could spend the evening together. As she was putting down the phone, a knock sounded at the door. It was loud and startled her. The apartment block was old, and unlike her former home it had no porter; anyone could walk up unannounced. The bell was currently broken, so people had no option but to thump on the door, but this was something she hoped to fix. She saw him through the spyhole just as he called her name.
Satō smiled when he saw her, but it was not a real smile, and he did not remove his hat. ‘What took you so long?’
‘Nothing,’ Rina murmured. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Not going to invite me in, wife?’
‘Ex-wife,’ she said, turning and allowing him inside. She did not offer to take his coat; he was not staying.
Satō removed his jacket and draped it over the bureau by the front door. He kept his shoes on and wandered into the apartment, hands on hips, looking around.
‘It’s not what you’re used to,’ he said with a small smile. ‘Paying for it yourself, are you?’
Rina nodded and did not elaborate.
‘Where’s what’s-his-name?’
‘Kaitarō is out.’
‘On a case?’ Satō was still smiling.
‘What’s it to you?’ She moved to stand in front of him, in front of the silk noren, so that he could not go into the bedrooMs
‘Is my daughter’s room through there?’
‘My daughter.’
‘Ours.’
‘Not any more,’ Rina said. She was angry now, her initial shock at seeing him ebbing away. She stood her ground, squaring up to him as he continued to stare at her. He was not overly tall, had never been imposing, but he had just enough height to look down on her.
‘What does Yoshi think of this arrangement?’
‘We are getting married.’
‘Yes,’ Satō said, his eyes taking in the room, the low traditional table, the ikebana waiting to welcome Kaitarō home. ‘I had heard that.’
As he said this, Rina took a step back. The look on his face did not bode well. ‘I want you to leave.’
‘No tour?’ Satō said, crowding her. ‘No explanation of how my wife and child are going to live?’
‘We are not—’
‘We didn’t part that badly, did we, Rina? I gave you everything you wanted.’
‘Why are you here, Satō?’ she asked.
‘I—’
‘I never want to see you again,’ Rina said clearly. ‘I do not want Sumiko to see you, and I will not be persuaded otherwise.’ Rina smiled, a small, gentle smile. ‘We both know the law, don’t we? We know what I can do and what you cannot. You have lost the power to challenge me.’
‘There she is,’ he said, ‘the fighter.’
‘Get out.’
‘So he’s to be her father, is he? He’ll raise her. Sit her on his knee?’
‘He’ll be a better father than you.’
‘Glad to have him in your life?’
‘Evidently.’
‘Well, I put him there.’
Rina turned away from him and walked over to the window. ‘Honestly, Satō, get out, I don’t have time for your games. I’m done playing with you.’
‘Has he told you about his work? His cases?’
‘I am not going to discuss my future husband with you.’
‘Where do you think he is right now?’
‘He’s working.’
‘And where the fuck is my daughter?’
‘With her grandfather.’ Rina looked up at Satō. ‘And he will make sure, as I will, that you never see her again.’ Rina pushed away from the windowsill and came towards him. ‘Don’t think you can come here. I will bury you. I know all your secrets, and if you threaten me I will destroy your family and your life.’
‘I hired him, Rina.’
‘You are a liar.’
‘This family you have, this new life, your new marriage, it’s because of me.’
‘I despise you.’
‘You think I couldn’t tell you the truth if I wanted to?’ Satō asked.
‘You can’t even be honest with yourself.’
Satō’s hand went to his mouth, whether to stop himself from saying something or to affect a dramatic pause, it was unclear. Then he turned and picked up his coat. Rina breathed a sigh of relief, but she did not follow him to the door; she did not want to be near him.
‘He’s a wakaresaseya,’ Satō said, adjusting his hat.
‘What?’
‘He breaks up other people’s relationships for money.’
‘He’s a photographer and you were leaving.’
‘Ask him.’
‘I shall do no such thing.’
‘Ask him how he knew to find you at the night market last year, when Sumi was so conveniently with Yoshi, and again at that photography lecture. When he took you to the nature reserve near your family home, did you think it was a coincidence? That he just happened to know the things you loved, could seduce you with nostalgia?’
Rina said nothing; the relief that Satō was leaving was fading away, replaced by something else. Still, she fought him. He had his coat on now and was coming towards her. He reached for her and she evaded his grasp, moving away until she felt the windowsill at her back. He joined her there and curled a finger under the shoulder strap of her dungarees, pulling her against him. Suddenly, she smiled. ‘Did it not work out with Naoko?’ she asked and felt a pulse of triumph at his narrowed eyes. ‘Is that why you’re here?’
Satō leaned in. She could smell whisky, sour on his breath. He ran his fingers up her throat and into her hair. He lowered his head and brushed his lips across her neck, licking her rigid skin; then he covered her mouth with his, pushing into her with his tongue. Rina bit down, hard, until she tasted blood. She grimaced as he jerked away from her, glad when he stumbled. She felt her lips curve up as he patted his pockets for a handkerchief, his hand still over his mouth. ‘I am v
ery pleased that this is the last time I shall ever see you,’ she said.
Satō wiped his lips and walked over to the sideboard. ‘This is the agency he works for,’ he said, placing a business card and some papers on the flat black surface. ‘Ask them for your file or ask him.’ He gave her a slow forced smile, though she did not move and her expression did not change. ‘Ask how much I paid him to fuck you.’ Then he was gone and Rina stood alone, unmoving, in the hall of her home.
Escape
Rina ran her hand across her mouth scrubbing at her lips, rubbing away all traces of his blood – though the taste of him, smoky and metallic, remained with her. It was not true, she thought, it could not be true. For a moment, she contemplated going into Sumi’s bedroom to start painting the last wall. Satō was controlling, and this was very like him. If life didn’t hand him the endings he wanted, he got angry. Most likely Naoko had dumped him or found someone else.
Rina went into the kitchen and splashed cold water on her face. She rinsed out her mouth and poured herself a glass of chilled tea. ‘It’s nonsense,’ she said aloud, but as she returned to the living room, she saw the business card and papers still lying on the sideboard. It would be better to rip them up and throw them away before Kaitarō got home. There was no room for anything of Satō’s in their life.
She picked up the card. On the front was the name of Kaitarō’s former boss at the detective agency. It didn’t mean anything, Rina thought. Satō could have found out where Kaitarō used to work and obtained a business card. She ripped it in half and then looked at the folded piece of paper beneath it. It was one of Satō’s credit card statements with several payments to the agency listed from May to September of the previous year, something Rina could not ignore.
Stapled to the bank statement was a leaflet. Rina read it slowly; it described the agency’s services, the traditional private investigator offering, and some extras. The language was suggestive and discreet, but the implications were clear. Beneath this was an invoice. It detailed expenses incurred during the previous summer (train tickets, car hire, a motel room in Atami), and at its base, in black and white, was the name of the agent who had filed it: Kaitarō Nakamura.
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