“Or,” said Julia, who had come up and put her arm around me, “she had gone to the post-trauma women’s group at your dad’s center and remembered his name from there.”
“He never said he treated her,” I said.
“Well, he can’t! He’s a psychiatrist—he has to maintain physician-patient confidentiality,” Julia said. “I’m sorry, Rei. I wish I had known more about this woman than what I just overheard. She’s one we might have been able to help.”
I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know what to say. Rosa, dead. If she could have hung on a year, she would have had money. But she might have died right after that point. There was no certainty about anything.
Mandy Oh, the reporter, appeared with her notebook flipped open. She had already scribbled several notes. I hoped, rather futilely, that the notes were just a story about ALL.
“I need to talk to your fiancé about the class action for tomorrow’s news broadcast,” she said. “When can I bring my crew? And do you want to do it here or at the law firm?”
I swallowed hard and said, “Mandy, I really can’t make plans for him.”
“Sure you can—you’re the wife!”
“Not yet,” I said. “But just between us, I think you’ll get a better story when he’s, uh, ready.”
“Did you know,” Mandy said, giving me a furious look, “that as a representative of a minority community media organization, I am frequently not even invited to press conferences? I’m not considered real media, you see. And here your friend is throwing out tempting bits of information about a story that directly impacts our community, and he won’t give me the story?”
“It’s gotten so complicated, Mandy…” I broke off. I had to think of something to distract her, to put a better face on things. “Actually, I do have a scoop for you. I’m working on a personal family history of the Shimuras. I have slides of family artifacts and quite a few reminiscences about how my grandparents and their grandparents lived in Japan. You know, the kinds of quilts they slept under, the dishes they ate from, the letters they received from notable people of the period. I’d be happy to give you an exclusive on this if you like.”
“That’s just soft news; I couldn’t sell it to my bosses,” Mandy said. “Anyway, I’d better circulate to get some more color. Bring Hugh to me when he gets back with that cop—or else.”
I stared at her as she retreated.
“Whew,” said Julia, “she wants a story. Can’t say I blame her.”
“Well, why doesn’t she want to write about your hot line or something? I’m sure you can use the publicity,” I grumbled.
“She has. Every year she does that story. Mandy Oh is our hero. I mean to say, shero. We’ve switched to that term lately.”
The rest of the party passed in a blur. I was surrounded by well-wishers from the old days. Half of them asked about the wedding plans, but the others were all abuzz about the lawsuit. I tried to say as little as possible, and threw myself into picking up all the leftover plates and glasses. People began to leave around eight. By nine the two dishwashers were going, with all the tables and surfaces cleared and five bags of trash headed for outdoors.
“This is unbelievable, Rei,” my mother said. “I can’t believe how much easier life is with you around. I know this sounds crazy coming from me, but wouldn’t it…wouldn’t it be nice if you and Hugh could live here with us, just like a real Japanese extended family…”
“Thanks,” I said, too upset to protest.
“We could do over the third floor entirely as an apartment for the two of you. You could even have one of our parking spaces in the driveway—”
“We’re going to live in Japan,” I said, trying not to cry.
The doorbell rang.
“Who now?” my mother wondered aloud.
“Maybe Hugh’s back,” I said, and went to the door. Remarkably, he was. I gave him an inquiring look, but he just shook his head at me.
Hugh had been away only about three hours, but he was transformed. His whole being seemed to sag; his suit was wrinkled, his skin looked paler, and his expression had a hollow kind of sadness.
“You were gone for a while,” I said. “What did they do to you?”
“Nothing. They thought I should be the one to make a positive ID on the body, since I was her lawyer and there was no one else who was closer. After that, I stopped in Washington Street to see Charles Sharp and talk things over with him.”
“Had she—been hurt?”
He shook his head. “It didn’t look like it, thank God. They think it was natural causes, a heart attack or something, but they’ll do an autopsy just to make certain.”
“But I can’t believe it’s natural. People live through their seventies in good health all the time now—”
“She’s not another Mr. Ishida,” said Hugh, referring to my septuagenarian friend in Tokyo who was vigorous enough to practice tai chi.
“Okay, she’s not. But think about the coincidence of the break-in at our house and the smashed window of my mother’s car. Maybe someone was searching for something…information about Rosa. And once they got it, they killed her.”
“We’ll wait for the autopsy,” Hugh said, but I could tell from the way he looked at me that he thought I might be right. We’d known each other too long, and had had too many hard experiences with unnatural deaths, not to expect the worst.
“What is it?” My mother was suddenly standing just a few feet away.
Hugh cleared his throat. “I’ve had some bad news. My client passed away. I was taken to the morgue to make the identification.”
“Oh, my darlings, I’m sorry,” my mother said. “You obviously cared about her a great deal, since you were going to the effort of fixing the stove—”
“What about that stove?” I was still unable to quite believe my foul-play theory. “What if—the electrician screwed things up and it was the gas that killed her?”
“No, the electrician found her already dead when he entered the apartment. She was still warm, but wasn’t breathing. She was in her chair, slumped over. It seems as if she’d died in the midst of eating—the police said there were takeout food containers and soy sauce on the table.” Hugh looked at my mother. “Catherine, I’m sorry. I’m not really up for talking anymore.”
“Not to me, but how about Toshiro?” my mother exclaimed. “He’s quite good with issues of grieving and loss—”
“Not now, Mom.” I took Hugh by the arm as gently as if he were an old lady Rosa’s age. “We’re going upstairs.”
In my room, Hugh lay motionless on the bed. I sat in the chair across the room, staring out the window. Across the street I could see mostly darkened houses, with only one or two rooms glowing with light. In them, people sat in front of computers or televisions, tuned into other worlds. Our house was uncharacteristically blazing with light, but my spirit was dark.
At last Hugh spoke. “Somebody once advised me never to enter into personal relationships with clients. I understood that to mean the obvious—don’t have affairs. But now I see it means more. Don’t walk into people’s homes unbidden, don’t give them things, and don’t try to remake their lives…”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Who knows? She was doing fine until we showed up with the promise of making her final days better. Maybe it was what your father said about stirring up old memories for her. That could have caused enough stress for a heart attack.”
“Maybe the class action stirred up old memories for someone else,” I said.
“What do you mean?” Hugh turned his face and I could finally see his red eyes.
“Both the American and Japanese governments have argued against giving the comfort women a chance at getting reparations, right? Neither side wants to upset the cozy relationship between the two countries. And those are just the governments themselves. There must be thousands of like-minded people in the U.S., and millions in Japan. If Rosa’s death had happened after my parents’ party�
��after all those Japanese-American guests heard about the plan—I would wonder if one of them had done it.”
Hugh reached out and stroked my arm. “Get some sleep, darling. You’re so tired you’re turning racist.”
But he was a fine one to tell me to sleep. Hugh tossed and turned plenty, and since my single bed was too small for both of us, it made drifting off impossible. Finally I told Hugh that I needed to sleep somewhere else, with more space for my body, in order to function the next day. Hugh kissed me and said a mournful good-bye as I carried my pillow up to the third-floor guest room where he had been sleeping. I didn’t like to leave him, but I knew it was for the best.
There was a sliver of light under Manami’s door, which was slightly cracked open; as I moved down the hall the door was closed quickly, and I heard her put the hook on it, locking it tightly. I smiled to myself, realizing that she must have thought it was Hugh, and she was protecting her modesty.
“Manami-san, it’s just me. Rei,” I called to her quietly in Japanese.
The lock came undone, and she peeped out at me. I had a flashback to Rosa doing the same thing at her apartment door.
“I’m sleeping in Hugh’s room,” I whispered. “I think I’ll sleep better.”
“But your parents!”
I realized then that Manami didn’t know anything about the engagement. “It’s okay. He’s sleeping alone in my room, and I’ll be up here near you. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Of course not. I’ll be—more comfortable. I’ve been afraid,” she said.
“Oh, sure, the break-in would make anyone nervous.” I’d almost forgotten about it, because of what had happened to Rosa. “Well, good night.”
“Just a minute, Rei-san. I’m going to the hospital early tomorrow morning, so I won’t be able to say good-bye to you when you and Hugh-san leave for Japan.”
“Yes, we can say our good-byes now, but you should know that Hugh will still be around.
“Oh? Why isn’t he going with you?”
“Well, there’s been a—complication. Remember the class action suit Hugh described at dinner the other night?”
Manami nodded. “Oh, yes. The one against the Japanese companies.”
“Well, the lead plaintiff for the case suddenly died. Hugh’s not entirely sure the lawsuit will come together.” I decided to withhold what I’d been thinking about the death’s being unnatural, because, as Hugh said, there was no evidence yet. And Manami was such a timid soul; the last thing I wanted to do was frighten her.
“Oh, so you cannot both be living in Japan. How sad!” she exclaimed.
“I hope it can still work out. I don’t know if you heard it from anyone, but we decided to get married. It happened when we were out yesterday afternoon. He gave me an old family ring.”
“Your mother told me tonight.” She smiled slightly. “Congratulations. Your ring is very pretty. And please don’t believe things are ruined. Hugh-san worked in Japan before for a zaibatsu. Your father already suggested that he could do that again.”
“Hugh did like working for Sendai, though it was very long hours and a lot of travel. But this new job was so much more…meaningful! He felt he would be doing something to right a wrong that had been made.”
“Right wrong? What does that mean?”
“It’s colloquial…” I struggled for a minute to find the words. “To right a wrong means to correct something bad that happened before. Hugh felt that if he could get Japanese companies to pay money to these people they’d hurt during the time of war, it would make everyone feel better. Not everyone agrees with that, of course. Well, good night, Manami. I have to get my rest tonight, because I’ve got to get up early for the airport.”
“Good night, Rei-san. Ii tabi, wo.” She spoke the phrase that meant, “Have a good trip” with the proper cheerful emphasis.
But I doubted that I would.
12
My father made me a Japanese breakfast the next morning: Miso soup from a packet, sliced yellow pickled radish, sticky rice in sweet tofu skins.
“This was kind of you,” I said in Japanese as I sat down across from him and put the bowl of soup to my lips.
“Will Hugh be able to eat it?” my father asked.
“Sure. But he’ll make a cup of regular tea, too, to help him wake up.” Indeed, I’d shaken awake the exhausted man a few minutes before, and he was now in the shower.
“I made coffee for you. But it’s probably better to take it after the breakfast.”
“Right. So the tastes don’t clash.”
“Speaking of clashes,” my father began.
I held my hand up. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I was upset yesterday, but there are worse things to worry about today.”
My father held my gaze for a long moment, then said, “Your mother told me about Hugh’s client. Why did she die?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Hugh will hear today.” I paused. “There’s something that’s been bothering me. One of the last things this woman said to me was she knew our family name—Shimura. I didn’t think much of it until Julia Gan pointed out that she might have been seen at your clinic in that old support group program.”
“Julia? I can’t comment on any patients who might be alive—”
“No, I don’t mean Julia. I mean the old Filipina woman. Because she’s no longer alive to have her privacy violated, I don’t think Hugh would mind me telling you her name. It’s Rosa Munoz.”
My father sighed. “It was a long time ago. Names can be tricky. I’ll have to check.”
“So the name doesn’t ring an immediate bell?”
“No, it doesn’t. But I tried—I tried to keep a low personal profile with the project, given my name. I thought it might be too stressful for the women to think a Japanese doctor was involved, given that they had all known Japanese doctors while they were in sexual slavery—”
“I see. You mean to say that you knew the military doctors were complicit in the scheme.”
“That’s right. Their chief interest was the health and stress relief of the soldiers.” My father sounded bitter. “Their relationship with the women was pretty far from the Hippocratic oath.”
I sat for a minute, thinking. “I’m surprised, after all you’ve said about your own work, and your feelings, that you didn’t want Hugh to pursue the class action.”
My father sighed. “Look what I tried to do. It failed. I know that for him, the stakes are even higher. Already a woman’s died, maybe from stress—”
“It could be something else,” I said. “Someone might have killed her to stop the lawsuit. When the autopsy’s done, we’ll know.”
“Do the police suspect Hugh?” my father asked.
“No, I don’t think so. Why would they?”
“Well, he was the last person to see her.”
“I was with him! He wasn’t alone,” I said.
“Yes, but they didn’t take you for questioning—”
“It wasn’t questioning, it was making the identification.” I set down my soup bowl with a bang. “Hugh was her lawyer, Dad. He’s above reproach. I can’t imagine you would think him possible of—anything!”
Hugh chose that moment to lumber through the doorway, carrying both my suitcases. “I couldn’t figure out how to get the dumbwaiter to work,” he said.
“If a man can’t operate a dumbwaiter, how could he kill a woman?” I blazed at my father.
“Sorry? Kill whom?” Hugh looked from one to the other of us in confusion.
I sprang up. “Hugh, let’s go. If I don’t leave now, I’ll miss the plane. We can get coffee on the way.”
“But I like the tea here,” Hugh protested.
I stared at him. Obviously, if he was willing to sit in the kitchen and drink tea in my father’s presence, he hadn’t heard the gist of what my father had said about him. “Fine,” I said. “But like I said, I’m going soon. I’ve had enough.”
I strode out and up the stairs to my bathroom. I would br
ush my teeth, take away the horrible taste of my father’s soup, and suspicion.
“What is it, Rei?” Hugh bounded up after me, and caught me in the hallway.
“Yes, darling, what’s your plan for the morning?” My mother popped out of her room, blow-dryer in hand.
“I’m a bit—stressed,” I said. “As you know, this happens whenever I have to travel somewhere. What I think would be best for everyone would be that I just cab it to the airport. I’ve already said good-bye to Dad.”
“Just wait!” my mother said. “Wait a half hour, and Daddy and I will drive you. There’s room for Hugh, too.”
“I’m expected at the office,” Hugh said. “I’m not going to be able to take her. But you’re not going, Rei, till I’ve gotten to the bottom of what’s wrong.”
“Something’s wrong?” my mother asked. And the sight of her angular features, softened by concern, were enough to make me want to weep.
“Dad thinks the police suspect Hugh,” I said.
“Yes, your father’s very worried. But of course, he thinks it is unjustified suspicion. He knows Hugh would never hurt anyone, especially since—”
“It’s in my interest that she be alive. Because I’m a greedy, ambulance-chasing bastard,” Hugh said bitterly.
“Chill out, kids,” my mother said. “Toshiro has never said anything about ambulance chasing or greed, nor has he said that Hugh’s a killer. He’s just, I repeat, worried about the police. Remember how they behaved in the sixties? Well, you don’t remember, you weren’t alive then. But we do. We’re all on edge. As I said to Toshiro last night, we just have to wait for the autopsy. The autopsy will show that she died of natural causes, nobody’s fault but Mother Nature’s.”
“Would that be the case, Catherine,” Hugh said. “Would that only be the case.”
I took the ride to the airport from my parents after all. I was still not really clear on whether my father suspected Hugh or not, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get back to my old life, where there was nobody I cared about enough that I could get shaken to the core.
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