Johnny reached his arms to the sky and cupped his hands together again and again. “Here’s another and another and another for you.”
Then I did something I’d never done before—or since. Because I saw no reason to wait, because I did not wish to wait, I kissed him. His lips melted into mine, his delicious warm lips, in a kiss I shall never forget as long as I live.
In the weeks that followed, Johnny and I became nearly inseparable: strolling through Tokyo’s Yanesen neighborhood, admiring its cute, compact wooden houses; bowing to women sweeping their doorsteps; and giggling at children running gleefully through narrow corridors. We marveled at the city’s temples with their stacked layers and swooping roofs; filled our evenings with sake and laughter; and bounded back and forth between his first-level room and my second-floor suite, as carefree and playful as youngsters on their first resort holiday.
One evening, I picked him up for dinner in his room and spied a small photograph on his dresser. “That’s your mother and father with you?”
“Yes, Mother insisted on a photo session before I left last year. And I liked that one well enough to bring it with me.”
Johnny sat between his parents, his father’s square face yielding to a soft grin and his mother beaming proudly.
“Your mother’s beautiful. You get your good looks from her.”
“Mother is wonderful. We’ve always understood each other. Of course, Father loves me, and I him, but more from a distance.”
I picked up the portrait. How handsome Johnny looked, with his blond hair neat and shiny, his expression radiating contentedness. As I regarded him at that moment, at a time before we’d even met, sentimentality washed over me—sentimentality I hadn’t known I was capable of. “Can I keep it in my room? So I can always have you near?”
Johnny wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. “Yes, but you’ll never find me far away.”
One early March evening, after dining in my suite, Johnny reached under the pillow beside his seat and pulled out a slender box. Handing it to me, he said, “For you, Pauline. The most fascinating and clever girl in the world.”
“Oh, Johnny, what have you done?”
“Open it.”
I slid the cover off the ebony box. Nestled against a bed of rippled black silk lay a dazzling string of pearls. I flattened a hand over my heart. “They’re beautiful. As round and shimmery as tiny moons.”
“Yes, well, they’re Japanese.” Johnny reached out and brushed his fingers lightly over my neck. “Only the finest pearls in the world would do for you.”
“Oh, Johnny, you make me feel like a princess.” I took the pearls from the box and walked to the mirror over my dresser. “Help me put them on.”
Johnny came up behind me, fastened the clasp, and turned me around toward him.
I gripped his shoulder and hand in a dancer’s pose and swung us about in a waltz step. We laughed and dipped as I hummed “The Blue Danube,” dancing in a tight circle in the space between my bed and dresser. Oh, Papa, I thought, can you see me now? I’ve found that man you told me to look for: someone with an ocean of money who makes my heart dance with delight. Except money and pearls don’t matter, Papa—for with Johnny I’ve recaptured the joy and abandon of that little girl who used to twirl pirouettes for you.
One afternoon two months later, while I tended to some correspondence in my room at the Imperial Hotel, my maid Kotone informed me that a gentleman wished to see me.
“Did he present a calling card?”
Kotone, a slight sixteen-year-old with a dainty nose and sharp chin, stood before me, clasping her hands over the broad waistband of her kimono. “No, he said he is Mr. Graham’s friend and wishes to surprise you.”
That’s odd, I thought. Johnny hadn’t mentioned any visitors. Nevertheless, I sent Kotone to show him in.
I rose from my desk. Kotone minced through the door, her floor-length kimono tight around her ankles, with my visitor trailing behind.
I could hardly believe my eyes. Was it really Detective Reed Dougherty? All the way from Chicago? He was as lanky and lean-faced as I remembered and, unlike at our first meeting, wore fashionable attire—a pebble-gray jacket with matching waistcoat and, in the newest style, a floppy bow tie. My mind whirred with questions. Who had hired him? Could it be about the larceny charge? Might Juan have sent him to track me down?
I signaled Kotone to my side and whispered, “Get Security.”
As she slipped out of the suite, I turned to the Pinkerton and knit my hands together, budging not one inch from where I stood beside my desk. I had no intention of offering the cad a seat. “Mr. Dougherty, you were not expected.”
“I’m delighted to see you as well.”
“I can’t imagine we have any business.”
He set his frame in a sturdy pose, five feet from me, his chin upturned like that of a pompous judge. “But we do. It appears you’re engaged in yet another of your adventures.”
“I’m on no adventure. This is where I live now—quite far from the place you once asked me to leave.”
“But not far from your old tricks.”
“You’ve no cause to threaten me.”
He fingered the felt derby which he held over his abdomen. “I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”
I pulled myself up straight to expand my diaphragm and inhaled. “You should know I have friends with influence in this city.”
“And I must ask you to part with one particular friend.”
This was my suite, paid for with my own money, and here was the person I most detested in the world invading it. Had I been a man, I would have hoisted him by the scruff of his starched collar and booted him out. “Who my friends are is none of your business.”
“John Graham does happen to be my business.”
Oh, no, I thought. Not my Johnny. I fixed a steely gaze on Dougherty. “Then you should be having this conversation with him.”
“As it happens, I have talked to him.”
“You have no influence over me here. But, more to the point, I am doing nothing illegal.”
“Mr. Graham’s return to New York is long overdue.”
“Mr. Graham is free to do as he pleases.”
“Not when it goes against his father’s wishes.”
“Then his father should take the matter up with him.”
“In fact, he’s taken it up with me.” He clutched his lapel and assumed a jaunty pose. “And I suspect you would prefer not to have a certain photograph brought to his or John’s attention.”
“You must be mistaken.” Was it possible he’d acquired the photo taken by the San Francisco police? I had no choice but to call his bluff. “I do not pose for photographs.”
“But I do have a photograph.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You can believe me and leave Mr. Graham, or you can take a chance on me revealing your past.”
My throat constricted, but I pressed on. “There is no photograph for me to be concerned about.”
“What a pity. You seemed so at home playing the geisha.”
I laughed, more relieved than humored. I brushed my hand over the desk, buying a moment to shift strategy, all the time aware of Dougherty’s eyes probing me. “You think a photograph of me with a party of Japanese dignitaries will matter to Johnny?”
“A whorehouse is the same the world over.”
“I was merely a guest of the house. That photo means nothing.”
Dougherty paused a moment, as if to weigh his options. “No, but the other picture probably will.”
The door opened, and my maid hurried in with two uniformed men scurrying behind her. I called out, “Take this man away. He has stolen property from me.”
The security guards seized him, and one commanded, “You come.”
Dougherty flailed his arms and tried to shake free of the men. “I’ve stolen nothing. I’m here on official business.”
“He’s taken two photographs from me,�
� I said. “Tell them, Kotone.”
Kotone translated for the security guards, who nodded to me and ordered Dougherty in their stilted English, “You come with us.”
The guards turned Dougherty toward the door.
“Fine,” he said over his shoulder, “we’ll straighten this out later.”
“Good day, Mr. Dougherty,” I said, as the security men hauled him off. “You can answer to the authorities now.”
I threw open the sashes of my suite’s front window. Along the avenue neatly pruned trees displayed shimmering lime-green leaves, but I took no delight in them, nor in early May’s perfumed floral airs. My hands shook, and I clucked my cottony mouth to moisten it. Dougherty was not only the last person I’d expected to see in Tokyo, but the last person I ever wanted to see.
Now Dougherty’s client, Johnny’s father, wished to come between Johnny and me. I didn’t believe for one minute that Johnny had deceived me: He had no wife or fiancée; he was on his world tour; and though his father had badgered him about returning to New York, Johnny had explained there was no urgent need for him to take up the business. That left only one reason for his father’s concern. Money.
I needed to buy us some time—out of the reach of Dougherty’s scrutiny and threats.
“Kotone,” I called out, “go downstairs and see what they’re doing with that man.”
I kept watch at the window. Minutes later, the green-garbed security men emerged from the hotel. As they escorted Dougherty down the street, he jabbered, no doubt making a last-ditch effort to escape their clutches.
Kotone returned and joined me at the window. “They take him to police.”
“As they should.” I drummed my fingers on the windowsill. “When the security men return, please ask if the police will be holding him.”
Kotone nodded. “Yes, miss.”
“But first let’s have some of that nice chrysanthemum tea. Both of us.”
When Kotone brought the tea tray, I said, “You must tell me about the Japanese countryside. Come.” I led the way to the couch. “Please sit with me.”
Stiff-backed, she eased down on the couch, her hands planted at her sides.
I patted her hand. “What are the nicest places to visit in summer?”
“Kyoto is very pretty, very old. Beautiful temples and Kamo festival soon.”
I poured tea for both of us and handed her a cup. “Yes, and where else?”
“You could go to Fujiyama. Very big mountain. Very pretty from train.”
“I’ll have to talk it over with Johnny.” I held the teacup under my nostrils, breathing in its sweet floral scent and relishing the soothing steam.
Kotone sat beside me, her frame quite still as she tilted her teacup to her lips.
I sipped my tea. Its delicate taste stimulated my own glands, assuaging the dryness of my mouth and calming my rattled nerves. Placing my teacup on the tray, I faced Kotone. “Please see to my laundry this afternoon. I’ll want to pack in the next day or two.”
MY OWN DEAR JOHNNY
TOKYO—1891
Johnny had gone out to his bank that day to conduct some business, so I left a message at the desk asking him to join me for a late-afternoon stroll. When he returned, we took a rickshaw to Ueno Park and set out under its canopy of broad-branching cherry trees.
I took Johnny’s arm as we stepped onto a wide walkway at the park’s center. “How was your day?”
“Not very agreeable, really.”
The finely graveled path crunched beneath our feet. “I’m sorry. What made it disagreeable?”
“Nothing I need to bother you about.”
I suspected Johnny had received yet another missive from his father, perhaps via his bank, asking him to quit Tokyo. Or perhaps Dougherty had upset him. I nestled my hand into the crook of his arm. “You never told me about your dinner with that associate of your father’s.”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Dougherty. Quite a nice fellow.”
The late-afternoon sun broke through the tunnel of trees here and there, warming my back, and I steered us toward a stone bench in some deep shade. “Did your father send him here on business?”
“No, Father only asked him to stop and see how I was doing. And pass along the news from home.”
Apparently, Johnny’s father preferred to handle this matter discreetly. Or maybe Dougherty realized he needed to tread delicately, in view of Johnny’s attachment to me.
“Nothing’s wrong, I hope.”
“Not at all; we’re meeting again tomorrow.”
Just as I feared. Dougherty was sinking his claws into Johnny, and I couldn’t risk any more meetings between them. I could only hope the police would hold Dougherty long enough to keep him away from Johnny. I paused at the stone bench, inviting Johnny to sit beside me. “And is Mr. Dougherty staying in Tokyo long?”
“I’m not sure.” Johnny leaned back and braced his hand on the bench. “He seemed to know about you.”
The coolness of the stone seat seeped into my legs. I forced calm onto my expression, suppressing the fury seething in my veins. “Really? What?”
“Just that I was seeing someone. Father must have passed it along. Anyway, I told him we’re having a marvelous time.”
“Oh, Johnny, I don’t want it ever to end.” I rested my head on his shoulder. Should I just tell him everything? No, I couldn’t stomach the thought of dashing Johnny’s trust in me.
I felt Johnny tense up. Pulling my head off his shoulder, I looked him full in the face. “What’s wrong?”
He smoothed a hand over his forehead. “Father’s put a limit on my withdrawals.”
“Why would he do that?”
“To force me to come home.”
“Oh, Johnny, I don’t want to lose you.”
“Soon I’ll have to go home.”
“Let’s go away first. Just you and me. Take me to Mount Fuji for my birthday.”
Johnny leaned over his knees and studied his feet. “I’m running low on funds.”
“Don’t worry about money. I have money.”
He nodded, letting the idea sink in. “Yes, I could stand a break from Father’s constant letters.”
“Can we leave tomorrow?”
“Well, I’m dining with Mr. Dougherty tomorrow night. How about Friday?”
If the police released Dougherty before Thursday evening, I would have to keep them apart, but without making a fuss. First I needed to find out how long Dougherty would be jailed. I clapped a hand on Johnny’s thigh. “You promise? Friday morning?”
He nodded, concentrating his lips in his own endearing way of showing resolve.
I wrapped my arm in his and nestled close to him.
He kissed my forehead and asked, “Can you have Kotone make the arrangements?”
“Of course,” I said.
As we rose to leave the park, I nudged Johnny. “Look at the young couple over there. Don’t they look happy?”
By the time Johnny called on me the next afternoon, Kotone had ascertained that the police were still holding Dougherty. Although they had questioned him about the whereabouts of the stolen photos, Dougherty had revealed nothing. Since time was of the essence, I asked Johnny if he’d begun packing for our trip to Fujiyama.
He relaxed into the pillows on my suite’s low-slung sofa. “I had some other business to attend to. I can pack in the morning.”
“Why not tonight?” The golden crane-patterned wallpaper of my suite reflected the afternoon sun piercing the windows. Suddenly it struck me as monotonous. How many months had I sat in this room surrounded by the same walls, the same simple furniture?
“I’m dining with Mr. Dougherty this evening.”
I hurried to the sofa and sat beside Johnny. “He hasn’t sent you word?”
“Of what?”
“That he’s indisposed.”
“No, why should he?”
I crossed my legs at the ankles and swiveled toward Johnny. “Mr. Dougherty is not who you think he is.”
Johnny leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knee tops. “What do you mean?”
“It would be best if you didn’t see him again.”
“But that would be an insult. What’s this about?”
“I’d rather not embarrass your father. Please don’t ask any more questions.”
“But my father sent him here. If he’s sponsored Dougherty’s trip, he has a right to know.”
I swallowed and moistened my lips. “Dougherty is being questioned by the police for theft.”
“Theft?”
“And I guarantee he’ll lie to your father about it.”
“You’re sure?”
“I saw Security escort him out of our hotel. You can ask the authorities.”
“How do you know he’s in jail?”
“I have connections with city officials. Why wouldn’t I know what happens to Americans in Tokyo?”
“Are you sure it’s Dougherty?”
“Mr. Reed Dougherty, a lanky fellow with a horsy face. Staying at the Seiyoken Hotel. Isn’t that him?”
Johnny frowned. “Yes, yes, it is.”
“Well, I’m afraid you won’t find him at dinner tonight.”
Johnny and I left Tokyo the next morning, while Dougherty languished in jail. But I knew Dougherty would be released sooner or later, so to throw him off our trail I changed plans.
Once Johnny and I reached the outskirts of Tokyo, I told him, “We’re going to Kyoto instead of Mount Fuji. I wanted to surprise you.”
We checked into the Hotel Okura in Kyoto a few days before the Kamo festival. On festival day, we secured seats with a commanding view of the parade: ox carriages overflowing with geranium leaves and an envoy of people dressed in colorful, flowing silk garb.
“Incredible,” Johnny said, as awed by the display as I was. “And it’s such a sublime city. Let’s stay for your birthday.”
We spent the next week touring Kyoto’s beautiful temples: Kiyomizu temple, situated on a steep hill and offering a commanding view of Kyoto; the shimmering Temple of the Golden Pavilion, a three-story temple topped with a bronze phoenix that sparkled under the clear May skies; and Fushimi Inari Taisha, a shrine at the top of a pathway lined with thousands of thick, bright red posts.
Parlor Games Page 16