Copyright
The Miracles of the Namiya General Store
Keigo Higashino
Translation by Sam Bett
Cover art by CoMix Wave Films Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
©Keigo Higashino 2012, 2014
First published in Japan in 2016 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.
English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo through TUTTLE-MORI AGENCY, INC., Tokyo and CHANDLER CRAWFORD AGENCY INC., Massachusetts.
English translation © 2019 by Yen Press, LLC
Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Higashino, Keigo, 1958- author. | Bett, Sam, 1986-, translator.
Title: The miracles of the Namiya General Store / Keigo Higashino ; [translation by Sam Bett]
Other titles: Namiya zakkaten no kiseki. English
Description: New York, NY : Yen ON, [2019]
Identifiers: LCCN 2019023608 | ISBN 9781975382575 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781975382582 (ebook)
Classification: LCC PL852.I3625 N3613 2019 | DDC 895.63/6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019023608
ISBNs: 978-1-9753-8257-5 (hardcover)
978-1-9753-8258-2 (ebook)
E3-20190816-JV-NF-ORI
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Answers in the Milk Crate
Chapter 2
Midnight Blues
Chapter 3
Overnight in the Civic
Chapter 4
A Moment of Silence for the Beatles
Chapter 5
Prayers from the Sky Above
Yen Newsletter
CHAPTER 1
ANSWERS IN THE MILK CRATE
1
Shota was the one who suggested the “handy shack.”
“A handy shack? What the hell are you talking about?” Atsuya towered over Shota, looking down at his petite frame and boyish face.
“It’s handy. You know, convenient, the perfect place for us to lie low? I stumbled on it when I came by to scope things out. Had no idea we’d actually have to use it, though.”
“Sorry, guys.” Kohei shrank back, hunching his large body, and cast a longing look at the worn-out Toyota Crown parked beside them. “I didn’t think the battery would die on us here, of all places. Not in my wildest dreams.”
Atsuya sighed. “No use thinking about that now.”
“Seriously, I don’t know why. I mean, there weren’t any warning signs when we were on the road. It’s not like we left the lights on or anything.”
“It was her time to go,” Shota said dismissively. “You saw the mileage. Well over a hundred thousand miles. This thing’s like a senile old woman. She was on her last legs when we found her, and the trip out here was more than she could take. We should have stolen a newer car if we were gonna steal at all. Just like I told you.”
Kohei groaned, crossing his arms. “But new cars have all those alarms.”
“Enough already.” Atsuya waved him off. “Shota, is this abandoned house or whatever close by?”
Shota cocked his head to the side. “If we hustle, twenty minutes?”
“All right, let’s get moving, then. Lead the way.”
“I’m down, but what about the car? Are we okay just leaving it here?”
Atsuya looked around. They were in a monthly parking lot in the middle of a residential neighborhood. They’d found an empty spot to park, but the real permit holder was bound to call the cops as soon as they noticed it occupying their space.
“It’s definitely not okay, but it’s not like we can move it. You guys haven’t touched anything, right? As long as we didn’t leave any prints, there’s no way they can trace us to the car.”
“Meaning we’re crossing our fingers.”
“Like I just said, we don’t have a choice.”
“Just checking. Okay, follow me.”
Shota bounced off ahead, leaving Atsuya no choice but to follow. The bag in his right hand weighed him down.
Kohei caught up with them. “Hey, Atsuya, what if we grabbed a cab? There’s a busy street up ahead. I bet there’ll be a bunch of them there.”
Atsuya snorted. “If three shady dudes hail a cab in this part of town at this hour, the driver’s gonna remember us. The second they release a sketch of us, we’re done.”
“You think the driver’s even gonna get a good look at us?”
“What if he’s a nosy one? What if he’s one of those guys with a photographic memory?”
Kohei was silent for a few steps before conceding meekly. “Sorry.”
“Drop it. Shut up and walk.”
They continued to walk through the neighborhood, high above the rest of the town. It was past two in the morning. The houses were clustered together, all modeled after the same design. Almost all the lights were off, but they couldn’t afford to let their guard down. If someone overheard them carrying on, they might call the cops about some seedy guys messing around in the middle of the night. Atsuya wanted the police to think they’d driven away from the scene—assuming the stolen Crown would go unnoticed for the time being.
The road started off on a gentle slope, but as they walked, the incline grew steeper, and the houses began to thin out.
“Hey, how far we going?” Kohei asked between ragged inhalations.
Shota told them it was only a little farther.
It wasn’t much longer before he came to a halt in front of the only house in sight—a traditional Japanese home with a store on the ground floor. It was a decent size, and its living quarters were constructed out of wood.
The shutter was barely ten feet wide and pulled all the way down. Other than a mail slot, there wasn’t anything else on it. Next to the house was a small storage shed. From the looks of it, it was once used as a garage.
“Is this the place?” Atsuya asked.
“Um.” Shota squinted at the house and tilted his head. “I thought it was.”
“Was? What the hell does that mean? Isn’t this it?”
“Yeah, I think we’re good. It’s just that the last time I came, it felt different. Like, I could have sworn it was a little newer or something.”
“You came during the day, right? That’s probably why.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Atsuya took a flashlight from his bag an
d aimed it at the shutter. Above it was a sign. He strained his eyes and barely made out the part that read GENERAL STORE. There was more, but the characters were indecipherable.
“A general store? Who’s gonna come all the way out here to shop?”
“Nobody,” said Shota. “That’s why they’re out of business.”
“Right. And? How do we get in?”
“There’s a door out back. The lock’s busted. This way.”
Shota led them down a narrow passage between the house and the shed, no more than three feet wide. As he slipped through it, he looked up at the sky. The full moon was right overhead.
As promised, they reached a door. Fixed to the wall next to it was a small wooden box.
“What’s this?” muttered Kohei.
“Seriously? You’ve never seen one of these before?” Atsuya asked. “It’s a milk crate. For deliveries.”
“Huh.” Kohei stared at the box with fascination.
They opened the door and stepped inside. The place smelled stale and dusty, but it wasn’t too bad. They were in a mudroom beside a banged-up washing machine flaked with rust—broken, no doubt.
On a stone block that led into the house, there was a single pair of grimy house slippers. The three of them tried their best to avoid contact with the slippers and stepped inside without removing their shoes.
They found themselves in a kitchen with hardwood floors. A sink and a gas stove had been installed by the windows, and on the adjoining wall was a two-door fridge. A table and chairs occupied the middle of the room.
Kohei opened the fridge. “Damn, there’s nothing here.”
“Obviously,” Atsuya snapped. “What were you gonna do if there was? Chow down?”
“I’m just saying… It’s empty.”
The room next to it was floored with tatami mats, where the owners had left behind a dresser and a Buddhist altar. Square cushions were stacked in the corner. The room had a closet, but no one rushed to open it.
Just beyond that room was the store. Atsuya peered in through the doorway with his flashlight. The shelves were still stocked with stationery, kitchenware, and cleaning products, though in short supply.
“Bingo!” exclaimed Shota, rummaging through the drawers of the altar. “Candles. We’ve got us some light.”
He lit a few of them with a lighter and set them up around the house until the place was bright enough for Atsuya to click his flashlight off.
“Whew!” Kohei plopped down cross-legged on the floor. “Now all we gotta do is stick it out till morning.”
Atsuya pulled out his cellphone and checked the time. A little after half past two.
“Hey, look what I found.” Shota yanked something out from the bottom drawer of the altar. It looked like an old weekly magazine.
“Gimme that.” Atsuya took the magazine from Shota and dusted off the cover. A photograph of a young woman smiled back at him. He could have sworn he’d seen her face before.
Then it suddenly hit him: He’d seen her on TV, playing the role of a mother in a few different dramas. By now she had to be in her midsixties at least.
He checked the date on the cover: It was over forty years ago. When he read it aloud, his two friends went bug-eyed.
“Man, I wonder what things were like back then,” said Shota.
Atsuya flipped through the pages. The content wasn’t too different from a weekly magazine today. “‘Supermarkets Ransacked for Toilet Paper and Detergent.’ Huh. I think I heard about this somewhere.”
“Oh yeah, I know about that,” Kohei remarked. “That must’ve been during the oil crisis.”
Atsuya flipped back to the table of contents, then jumped straight to the pin-up page, but it wasn’t the type of centerfold he’d hoped for. No nude shots or idols. He snapped it shut.
“How long has it been since someone lived here?” He stuffed it back into the drawer and took another look around the room. “They’ve got merchandise out there on the shelves, and they left behind the big appliances. Seems like they moved out in a hurry.”
“Fly-by-night,” concluded Shota. “No question. Their customers stopped coming, but the debt kept pilin’ up. One night, they packed their bags and split. Game over.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“I’m hungry,” Kohei whined. “I wonder if there’s a convenience store around here.”
“Even if there is,” Atsuya told him with a hard glare, “you’re not going. We’re stuck here until morning. Go to sleep, and it’ll be over quick.”
Kohei hung his head and hugged his knees. “But I can’t fall asleep when I’m this hungry.”
“Yeah, and who wants to cozy up in this grimy mess?” asked Shota. “We could at least find something to sleep on.”
“Hold on a sec.” Atsuya got to his feet and stepped into the storefront with his flashlight. He walked up and down the aisles, beaming the light along the shelves, trying to find a roll of plastic or a tarp.
Eventually, he came across a tube of the paper used for shoji doors. Anything would be better than sleeping in the dust. Just as he reached out to grab it, something clinked behind him.
He spun around just in time to see a white object slide into a cardboard box set against the shutter. He flashed the light at it. It was an envelope.
His pulse started pounding in his ears. There was no way any mail was being dropped off at this abandoned house, especially at this hour. Meaning someone knew they were here—and had something to tell them.
Atsuya drew a deep breath and poked open the flap of the mail slot to have a look out front. He fully braced himself to find the place swarming with police cars, but to his surprise, it was dark out. No sign of anybody.
With some relief, he grabbed the envelope. The front was blank, but the back was signed Moon Rabbit in bubbly script.
He took the envelope with him to the tatami room. When he showed the others the strange signature, they went pale.
“What the hell is that?” asked Shota. “Please tell me that was here when we got here.”
“Someone just pushed it through the mail slot. I saw it. Look at this envelope. Paper’s new, right? If it’d been sitting around, it would have been covered in dust, just like everything else in here.”
Kohei cowered, trying to make his husky frame as small as possible. “I bet it was the cops…”
“That’s what I thought, too, but I dunno. They don’t have the time to play games.”
“Yeah,” said Shota. “And they’d never sign a letter ‘Moon Rabbit.’”
“Then who would?” Kohei frowned. His dark eyes were uneasy.
Atsuya scrutinized the envelope. He could feel how thick its contents were. If this was a letter, it had to be a long one. What could the sender possibly have to say?
“Yeah, nope,” he concluded, shaking his head. “This can’t be for us.”
His friends regarded him with disbelief.
“Come on, think about it. How long has it been since we got here? I could understand a quick note, but writing this would take at least half an hour.”
“Makes sense,” said Shota, “when you put it that way. Except it might not be a letter.”
“True.” Atsuya looked over the envelope again. It was sealed tight. He squeezed at the glued paper with both thumbs.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
“Opening it. That’ll set things straight real quick.”
“But it’s not for us,” protested Kohei. “We can’t just do that.”
“Well, what else are we supposed to do? It’s not addressed to anyone.”
Atsuya tore open the seal. With his gloves still on, he shoved a finger in and pulled out a sheaf of papers, the pages crammed with handwriting in blue ink. It started, Please excuse my sudden request.
“What the…?”
Atsuya began reading, with Shota and Kohei following along over his shoulder.
It was a very peculiar letter indeed.
Please excuse my sudden request. Fo
r the purposes of this letter, I’ll go by Moon Rabbit. I’m a woman, but I can’t give you my real name. I hope you’ll forgive me. I have my reasons.
I’m an athlete, but I’d rather not give you the specifics. I hate to brag, but I rank highly in my field, and I’m in the running to represent Japan in the Olympics next year. If I told you the event, you’d be able to narrow things down, since there aren’t that many of us. But I need to mention the Olympics or else I wouldn’t be able to fully explain my predicament. I hope you’ll understand.
There’s a man in my life. A man I love, who understands and supports me more than anyone else. He’s my biggest fan, and he wants me to compete in the Olympics from the bottom of his heart. He’s even gone so far as to say he’d be willing to make any sacrifice to see it happen. I can’t even count the number of times he’s helped me, both physically and psychologically. To be honest, he’s the real reason I’ve been able to make it this far. I’ve pushed through my most grueling training sessions for him. In fact, I’ve started seeing the Olympics less as a personal goal and more as a way of showing my gratitude to him for everything he’s done.
But then, we found ourselves in the middle of a nightmare. My boyfriend suddenly collapsed, and when the doctor told me his diagnosis, the entire room went black. He has cancer.
The doctor confessed to me that there was almost no chance of recovery and that he had six months to live. No one has told him what’s happening, but I suspect he knows.
My boyfriend tells me not to pay him any mind but to stick with it, push ahead, and smash the competition. He’s right. This is a really important time for me. I’ve already made plans for all kinds of training, both here and abroad. I need to go all out to get picked for the Olympics. I know this in my mind.
But there’s another part of me, separate from my identity as an athlete, that wishes to be with him. That part of me wants to forget all about the training, stay by his side, and tend to his needs. To tell you the truth, I’ve brought up the idea of dropping out before, but he looked so dejected that just writing about it here makes me want to cry. He begged, “Don’t say that. You have to make it to the Olympics. Don’t take that away from me. I won’t die until I get to see you there. That’s my only wish.” He made me promise to keep going.
The Miracles of the Namiya General Store Page 1