The Runaway Bride

by Carolyn Keene

  “Talk about coincidence?” George marveled, shaking her head.

  Mick winked at Nancy. “Fate always seems to bring us together, doesn’t it? Remember Switzerland? And Italy?”

  “And Greece,” Nancy added, blushing.

  Nancy, George, and Bess had spent one summer vacation traveling around Europe. They’d met Mick in Geneva, and there’d been sparks between him and Nancy from the start. He’d followed her to Rome and the Greek island of Mykonos.

  In Greece Mick had proposed to her. Nancy had turned him down because she wasn’t ready to settle down and because she did love Ned.

  That summer, though, she and Ned had been drifting apart. That was part of the reason she’d fallen for Mick. Since then, she and Ned had patched things up, and now their relationship was as strong as ever.

  “So where are you off to now?” Mick was saying.

  “Back to our ryokan,” George told him.

  “Do you need a ride?” Mick asked, producing a set of keys from his pocket. “My car’s just over there—come on.”

  “That would be great,” Nancy said, beaming. Despite the ruined wedding and Midori’s disappearance, she suddenly felt inexplicably lighthearted. “Thanks, Mick.”

  “No problem,” Mick said, then added, “Hey, here’s a thought. Why don’t you let me be your tour guide while you’re here? Nightlife is my specialty.” He put his arms around both girls’ shoulders. “We can start tonight. I have passes to a fantastic rock club in Roppongi. And tomorrow night there’s a Bon Matsuri festival at this beautiful old temple . . .”

  • • •

  “Penny for your thoughts,” George said.

  “Hmm?” Nancy turned to George, who was sitting next to her in the Nakamuras’ front parlor. It was five after five, and they were waiting to talk to Ken. “I was just going over the case.”

  George grinned slyly. “Which case? Midori’s disappearance or Mick’s reappearance?”

  Nancy whacked her playfully on the arm. “Oh, please. I mean, I’m really glad to run into Mick again, but that’s all. I’ve already got a boyfriend, remember?”

  “I remember,” George said. “But maybe Mick doesn’t have a girlfriend. He sure seemed happy to see you.”

  Nancy rolled her eyes, then decided to change the subject. “I’ve been thinking. Mrs. Kato mentioned that Midori and Ken had a date on Thursday night and that she came home early.”

  George nodded. “Right. She thought they might have had a fight.”

  “And according to both her and Mari, that’s when Midori started acting strangely,” Nancy went on. “I have a feeling that this fight—or whatever it was—is a major clue. Which means that Ken will be able to clear up a lot of questions for us.”

  George peered at her watch. “Speaking of Ken, where is he?”

  “I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Nancy said, then leaned back in her chair and glanced around the room.

  The parlor was an eclectic blend of Asian, American, and European decor. The leather couch was framed by a pair of red lacquer end tables from China. The walls were covered with Japanese woodblock prints, English still-life paintings, and old photographs of New York City.

  “This place is amazing,” Nancy declared.

  “The Nakamuras must be loaded,” George added.

  Just then the door swung open, and Ken strode in. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, then sat down in a chair opposite the girls. “Have you heard from Midori yet?” Nancy couldn’t help notice the eager spark in his eyes.

  “Not yet,” Nancy replied. “Have you?”

  The eager spark faded. “No,” Ken said slowly. “I do not expect to, either. Although I was hoping . . .” He paused and sighed. “Actually, I don’t know what I was hoping.”

  “Mari asked me to find Midori,” Nancy reminded him.

  “I don’t know why you’re even bothering,” Ken muttered. He sounded angry now. “I mean, Midori obviously wants to be as far away from me as possible. Although it would have been nice if she had broken things off before our wedding day, don’t you think?”

  Nancy was about to point out that Midori might have run away for a reason having nothing to do with Ken. But she could see that he was speaking more from wounded pride than logic, so she decided not to say anything.

  “Did you have any idea she was going to disappear?” George asked him.

  Ken turned away for a second. There was bitterness in his voice as he said, “She could not have surprised me more if she had set fire to the place. She never gave me any indication that she was having second thoughts.”

  “How about Thursday night?” Nancy prompted. “Mrs. Kato told us that you had a date with her. But Midori went home early, right?”

  “Right. That was odd, actually.” Ken picked up a bronze statuette from the coffee table and began toying with it absentmindedly.

  “Midori came to my office around five,” he continued. “I was in a meeting, so I asked her to wait in the conference room until I was through. When I went to get her twenty minutes later, she wasn’t there. She’d left word with the receptionist that she wasn’t feeling well and had to go home.”

  “What was wrong with her?” Nancy asked.

  “I have no idea,” Ken replied. “I called her, but her mother told me she was resting and couldn’t come to the phone. I tried calling her again yesterday, but once again I was told the same story. Then today was the wedding.” He gave a sad shrug.

  Nancy took a deep breath, then said, “Ken, I know this is really personal. But I need to ask—were you and Midori getting along all right?”

  Ken stared at her, his dark eyes flashing. “Midori and I had an excellent relationship,” he declared firmly. Then he added, “Do not misunderstand me. We have had our problems. Like when she was at Senagawa. But that was a while ago.”

  Nancy’s ears perked up. “You mean Senagawa Art College? Mari said her sister changed while she was there.”

  “She did,” Ken said grimly. “Midori found a bunch of new friends, and suddenly she had no time for me. There was a jerk she was running around with there, too.”

  Another guy? Nancy wanted to ask, but before she had a chance, Ken cleared his throat and said, “I do not want to discuss it. Anyway, her parents pulled her out, and we patched up our relationship.”

  Just then Connor entered the room. “Ken, your uncle—” He stopped. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company. Anyway, your uncle needs to see you right away. It’s important, he said.”

  Nancy noticed that Connor didn’t bother to greet either her or George. Nice guy, she thought.

  “I’d better see what he wants,” Ken said to the girls, standing up. “If you have any more questions, feel free to call me here or at the office. Here’s my card.” He fished one out of his wallet and handed it to Nancy.

  Connor gave Nancy a brief, curious glance, then left the room. Ken started to follow him, then turned and said quietly, “Please call me if you hear from Midori—day or night.”

  After promising to do so, Nancy and George headed for the front door. As George reached for her leather sandals, she said, “What do you think?”

  “I think we should go back to the ryokan and wait for Mari’s call,” Nancy replied. “After talking to Ken, I’m more anxious than ever to get that list of Senagawa names.”

  “That business about Thursday night—” George began, then stopped. Ken’s mother was marching down the hallway toward them. She was dressed in an ivory silk pantsuit with several gold chains dangling from her neck.

  She stopped and fixed her eyes on Nancy. “I see you have been visiting my son,” she said coolly. “Are you conducting an investigation into Midori’s disappearance?”

  “Yes,” Nancy replied. “Why? Do you have some information for us, Mrs. Nakamura?”

  “Information?” Yoko drew her red lips into a thin, angry line. “The only information I have for you is this. You will stop your search for Midori immediately—or yo
u will have to answer to me!”

  Chapter

  Five

  WHAT?” George cried out.

  “Let me get this straight,” Nancy said slowly. “You don’t want me to find your son’s fiancée?”

  “As far as I am concerned, Midori ceased to be Ken’s fiancée as of this morning,” Yoko declared firmly. “You are Americans—you do not understand the seriousness of what she has done. When two families settle on a marriage arrangement for their children, it is a sacred contract, to be honored at all costs.”

  “But what if Midori had a good reason not to go through with the wedding?” Nancy suggested.

  “There is no reason to excuse her actions,” Yoko scoffed. “Midori has dishonored and embarrassed the Katos and the Nakamuras. If you continue with your investigation, it will only make things worse for all of us.”

  Nancy studied her curiously. Some instinct told her that Yoko wasn’t being completely open, but Nancy knew better than to push things.

  “We’ll think about what you said,” Nancy replied smoothly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.” She glanced at George, and they turned to go.

  Yoko managed to get in one last warning. “Forget Midori Kato,” she said, her voice cold as steel. “Or you will be most sorry.”

  • • •

  Back at the ryokan, Nancy and George found a message from Mari. Nancy returned her call while George tuned in to a baseball game on the television set.

  “I found only one Senagawa name for you,” Mari said to Nancy after exchanging hellos. “Hana Endo—she works at a boutique called Explosion in the Harajuku district. I don’t have her home number, but this is her work number.” She rattled it off, and Nancy took it down.

  “I am sorry I don’t have more names,” Mari went on. “I searched all through Midori’s desk. She usually carries her address book in her purse, and I assume she has that with her.”

  “How did you get Hana’s number, then?” Nancy asked.

  “I came across an old flyer for a performance piece Hana did at the school. It had her workplace and number scribbled on it.”

  Nancy considered this, then said, “Midori never talked about her Senagawa friends with you?”

  “No,” Mari responded. “As I said before, she went through a weird phase there. She kept things from our parents—and from me.” Nancy heard the hurt in the girl’s voice.

  “Do you know if Midori dated anyone there?” Nancy pressed.

  “At Senagawa?” Mari paused. “Not that I know of.”

  Nancy then told Mari about their encounter with Yoko Nakamura. When she’d finished, Mari said, “Mrs. Nakamura actually ordered you to drop the investigation?”

  “Yes,” Nancy replied. “Can you think why she’d do that, Mari? Aside from the reasons she gave, that is?”

  Mari was silent for a moment. “Midori mentioned to me once that Mrs. Nakamura did not like her much,” she said finally.

  Nancy’s ears perked up. “Oh, really? And why did your sister think that?”

  “Midori figured that Mrs. Nakamura had a different sort of girl in mind for Ken,” Mari explained. “Maybe the daughter of one of her country club friends. We are not exactly poor, but the Nakamuras—well, they live in a mansion. They party with politicians and celebrities.”

  “So why did Mrs. Nakamura agree to an arranged marriage between Midori and Ken?” Nancy asked.

  “The match was decided a long time ago by my father and Ken’s father, when he was still alive,” Mari replied. “They were old friends. Mrs. Nakamura had no say in the matter.”

  “Why not?” Nancy said.

  “It is just the way things are in Japan. Men always make the big decisions. Wives get no vote.”

  “So even though Mrs. Nakamura didn’t approve of Midori, she had to go along with what her husband wanted,” Nancy said slowly. “No wonder she wants me to drop this investigation. I’m sure she’d be totally thrilled if Ken never saw Midori again.”

  Then she sat up, her blue eyes flashing keenly. “What if Mrs. Nakamura is responsible for Midori’s disappearance? She couldn’t openly oppose the marriage arrangement, right? So maybe she decided to keep the wedding from happening. Maybe it’s possible she said something to Midori to upset her and make her run away.”

  “Like what?” Mari said.

  “I’m not sure,” Nancy murmured. “Mrs. Nakamura seems like the sort of person who always goes after what she wants. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she took it upon herself to sabotage Ken and Midori’s wedding.”

  The girls talked a little longer. Nancy promised to keep Mari informed about what her investigation turned up.

  As soon as the conversation ended, she tried calling Hana Endo at Explosion, but a recording told her that the store wouldn’t be open until noon on Sunday.

  “So how do we find out if your theory about Yoko Nakamura is right?” George asked once Nancy had hung up.

  “Any ideas?” Nancy said, stretching her long, slender legs across the tatami floor.

  “One way to do it would be to accuse her outright,” George suggested. “Mrs. Nakamura seems kind of hotheaded. If she’s guilty, she might accidentally give herself away.”

  Nancy considered this, then said, “She’s too smart for that. Besides, even if we managed to prove that she scared Midori away, we still don’t know where Midori is now.”

  “Good point,” George agreed.

  “Assuming that she wanted to lie low for a while,” Nancy went on, “she might have gone to a hotel or a ryokan someplace. Or she could be staying with friends.” She added, “Which reminds me—”

  “Hmm?”

  “Tomorrow morning I’d like to go by the Katos’ house to search Midori’s room,” Nancy said. “We might be able to find a clue. And after that we’ll head over to Explosion and talk to Hana.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.” George glanced at her watch. “Hey, we’d better get a move on if we’re going to meet Mick at that rock club. We have to change, grab some dinner—”

  “Good idea,” Nancy said. “I noticed a yakitori place around the corner.”

  “Yakitori?” George asked warily. “I was thinking more along the lines of a cheeseburger.”

  There was a knock on the sliding door. “I’ll get that,” Nancy said, rising.

  She opened the door, but there was no one there. Instead Nancy found a tray of covered dishes lying on the floor of the hallway. On it was a white card with a hand-scripted message that read: “Compliments of the Sakura Ryokan.”

  “What great timing,” Nancy said, carrying the tray into the room and setting it down on the lacquer table. “Wasn’t it sweet of Mrs. Ito?”

  George sighed. “I guess this means the cheeseburger’s out.”

  They sat down at the table. “I don’t know what to try first,” Nancy said, uncovering some of the dishes. “Maybe I’ll start with this one.” She pointed at a spiny fish that had been artfully arranged on a green glazed platter.

  George made a face. “It’s raw, isn’t it?”

  Nancy grinned and picked up a piece of the fish with her chopsticks.

  “Is there anything cooked on this tray?” George grumbled.

  There was another knock on the sliding door. This time George got up to answer it. It was a young maid with fresh towels and two yukata, kimono-style cotton robes. She entered, bowed, then headed for the bathroom to drop off her load.

  “Thank you,” Nancy called out, then turned back to her dinner. “You should try this, George. See, you dip the raw fish in this bowl of soy sauce and wasabi mustard—”

  That was as far as she got. The maid, who was passing behind Nancy, froze in her tracks and dropped her towels and yukata. Then, before Nancy could react, the young woman shouted something incoherent and grabbed Nancy’s arm.

  Chapter

  Six

  NANCY’S CHOPSTICKS dropped to the floor.

  “What are you doing!” she cried out. Out of the corner of her eye, she could s
ee George getting up to intervene.

  It was unnecessary because the maid suddenly let go of Nancy’s arm and began apologizing profusely.

  “I am deeply sorry,” she murmured in stilted English, bowing over and over again. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

  Nancy straightened up and ran a hand through her hair. She glanced at the maid, then up at George, who was hovering over them with an expression of total confusion on her face.

  Nancy took a deep breath and turned back to the maid. “What was that all about?” she asked sharply.

  The maid bowed again, then said, “I was trying to prevent you from eating that.” She indicated the piece of raw fish that Nancy had just dipped into the soy sauce and wasabi mixture. It was lying on the floor, along with Nancy’s chopsticks.

  Nancy frowned. “I don’t understand. Why shouldn’t I eat that fish?”

  “That is no ordinary fish,” the maid explained. “That is fugu, or blowfish—a great Japanese delicacy. The fugu has several poisonous organs, which must be removed by a special chef. Anyone who even tastes improperly prepared fugu suffocates and dies within half an hour.”

  “What!” George exclaimed.

  The maid pointed to the white “Compliments of Sakura Ryokan” card lying on the tray. “I saw that as I passed behind you,” she told Nancy. “At the same time I saw the fugu. I knew something was wrong. We do not serve fugu in our kitchen.”

  Nancy’s eyes widened.

  “Perhaps I overreacted,” the maid went on, blushing. “But when I realized that you were about to put the fugu in your mouth, I did not want you to take a chance.”

  Nancy shook her head and put her hand on the young woman’s arm. “No, you didn’t overreact. You may have saved my life.”

  The maid’s instincts were right. When Mrs. Ito came up to their room to discuss the matter, the manager quickly confirmed that the Sakura Ryokan did not serve fugu. She also explained that the tray of food was not from their kitchen.

  “We do not offer complimentary dinners to our guests,” Mrs. Ito stated. “Just breakfast and tea in the afternoons.”