The whole holiday had been blessed with beautiful weather, and that day, too, the sun rose high over the sparkling sea. It was so warm she began sweating under her jacket. She wandered along the seafront smoking. Only a low seawall lay between her and the water. A small fishing boat moored to it bobbed gently up and down, so close she could have jumped down onto it. Nets were piled here and there, and the smell of the sea stung her nose. She looked up to see colorful pleasure boats shaped like dolphins and whales carrying people to and fro across the bay. It was a picture-perfect seaside holiday scene.
As she put out her cigarette and turned to go back to the waiting room a sudden spring wind blew up and Shigeko raised a hand to protect her eyes. The strong gust mixed with sea breeze felt cold on her forehead. The hem of her skirt flew up, and something slapped against her toes. She looked down to see a paper stuck to her shoe. Casually she bent down and picked it up. It showed a picture of a woman's face, a photocopy of a photograph by the look of it. Over it was handwritten, “Have you seen this person?” A flier for a missing person─it must have been pinned to a noticeboard somewhere, for the paper had become yellowed and stiff, and the corners had been ripped off.
Under the photograph, in small, close handwriting, was written, “She left home on January 8, 1992, and never returned. Her family is worried and searching for her. If you know anything, please contact us.”
The woman's name was Yoriko Tanaka, age thirty-six, a waitress in a local hot-spring inn called Yubuneso. She was about five feet two, plump, with an appendectomy scar. She was shortsighted, so sometimes wore glasses. The contact address was in town, in the name of Akiyoshi Tanaka. Her husband, maybe? A housewife run away from home?
In the photo, Yoriko was wearing a kimono─her waitress uniform, probably. It was a grainy black and white photo and the details were indistinct. She was smiling, revealing quite striking protruding front teeth. She wasn't a beauty, but she did have a certain sensuality to her. She probably ran off with a man, thought Shigeko. The flier looked quite old, but not as old as two years. The family she had left behind─her husband─must have kept copying this notice and posting it around town, hoping to find her.
The flier left a bad taste in her mouth─it felt like a blot on the trip. She was about to scrunch it up in her hand, but something stopped her. A slight twinge of sympathy at the urgency of the clumsy penmanship. She folded it neatly and took it with her back to the waiting room, where she threw it into a trash can.
“Shige-chan, the boat's about to leave─hurry!” called Shoji, and she ran to the wharf. Together they boarded the waiting pink dolphin boat.
Soon after their trip, Shigeko had to go to Kawagoe, sometimes dubbed “Little Edo,” on assignment for a travel magazine. During the Edo period, when rivers and canals were busy transportation routes, it had been a lively town directly connected with the heart of the capital city, and even now that it had become a dormitory town for modern-day Tokyo its townscape retained much of the flavor of bygone days. Tourists came for its mud-wall architecture with tiled roofs and old bell towers. Indeed, Shigeko's article was to tout Kawagoe as a day-trip destination.
The area around the station, with its bustling developed streets that wouldn't be out of place in Tokyo, made her doubt whether this town really was a “Little Edo” at all, but she was an experienced travel writer, and the editor and photographer with her knew their stuff too, so they quickly got on with their job. They had managed to get everything done by sunset and were walking around the station area looking for somewhere suitable to have a cup of tea, when a missing-person poster on the bus terminal noticeboard caught her eye.
It was an official poster, not photocopied but properly printed. Anyone with information should contact the nearest police box or Kawagoe Police Station, it stated. As she was reading it, the editor came up and read along over her shoulder. The poster showed a young woman, age twenty-two, a student called Akemi Kishida. Shigeko suddenly remembered the flier she'd seen in Shimoda, which she hadn't given a second thought to until now.
“I saw something similar on a recent trip to Shimoda. Although that one was handwritten and looked like something her family had made.”
“There are lots, aren't there?”
“I wonder what happened to them?”
“What do you mean, what happened to them?”
“They're missing, right? It's not as if they suddenly just ceased to exist.”
The editor folded his arms. “I guess. But there have been lots of weird cases lately. This one's a young woman, too. Who knows? Since the bubble days, anything can happen.”
Shigeko stared at the photo. Akemi Kishida had long, neatly trimmed hair, and was very pretty. Her makeup looked a little heavy, but that might have been the photograph. She looked like any other happy young woman.
“Come to think of it, you never hear missing people described as ‘vanishing into thin air’ any more, do you?” said the editor. “You used to hear it a lot a decade ago─or more like a couple of decades. The in-phrase at one point. Even now there are still people who suddenly disappear, but nobody ever says they've vanished into thin air. It's not even really considered a social phenomenon these days. Seems it's become just one of those things.”
“I wonder why they disappear?” muttered Shigeko.
“I suppose there are all kinds of reasons.”
“If I suddenly vanished into thin air, I wonder if anyone would bother looking for me?” Shigeko said, wondering whether Shoji would look for her or not.
The editor laughed. “I will. If it's before a deadline, anyway!”
“Yeah, right.”
They both laughed and moved away from the noticeboard. Nevertheless, the women's photos remained impressed in Shigeko's mind: Yoriko Tanaka in Shimoda, and Akemi Kishida in Kawagoe.
People who disappear─who cease to exist. Shigeko's interest began to home in on this issue.
Once she had gleaned all the information she could from the TV and radio news, Shigeko decided to make a phone call. She flipped through the old Rolodex on her desk, but couldn't find the business card she was looking for. Impatiently she looked again, but then remembered that Sakaki hadn't given one to her. She had jotted down his contact number in her research notes.
She quickly took out her notebook. Many of her colleagues had started keeping their notes on the computer, but in that respect Shigeko was old style. She started a different notebook for each assignment and kept them lined up in alphabetical order on her bookshelf. The notebook she was looking for wasn't on the shelf crammed with notes for her main work projects, though, but tucked away in a drawer along with bits of equipment and other supplies. She couldn't remember when she'd last taken it out.
She opened it up and there it was, in a list of numbers she'd made on the inside of the front cover, the third one down: Tatsuo Sakaki, Higashi-Nakano Police Station. Feeling suddenly nervous, she picked up the receiver. He wasn't there. According to the person who took the call, something urgent had come up and he was headed directly from home to deal with it. Shigeko gave a start. Something urgent? Could it be to do with the Okawa Park case? It had to be! She asked to leave a message informing him that she'd called, and hung up.
Not being able to get hold of Sakaki only heightened her excitement. She flicked through the notebook and quickly read over the notes she'd made about a few other people, then placed another call. This time it was an out-of-town call, to the number at the top of the list: Sakiko Himuro of the Vice Control Division at Shimoda Police Station on the Izu Peninsula.
Thinking back, the last time she'd met with Sakiko had been a year and a half ago. As she dialed she felt somewhat apprehensive that perhaps Sakiko had been transferred, but her fears were unfounded. Sakiko was still there at the Shimoda Police Station, but her department's name had changed. No longer the Vice Control Division, it was now the Community Safety Division.
&
nbsp; Shigeko recognized Sakiko's voice the moment she came on the line, and felt a wave of relief. “Is that Detective Himura? This is Shigeko Maehata.”
“Shigeko Maehata?” Sakiko repeated. “I'm afraid I─”
Her tone was formal. She always had been like that, Shigeko recalled, although she was completely different once she started drinking. “I'm sorry to call out of the blue like this after such a long time. We met when I was researching a newspaper article about missing women. Um─” Suddenly it occurred to her that she'd still been going by her maiden name, Shigeko Kimura, at the time. When she hastily added this, the voice on the other end lightened up.
“Shigeko Kimura? Oh, now I remember.”
“It's been a long time.”
“So you're Mrs. Maehata now. I did receive your announcement, come to think of it. Sorry for being so thoughtless. How are you?”
“I'm very well, thank you. And it's entirely my fault for being out of touch for so long.”
“I've often wondered what's been going on with your research after we last met. How has progress been?”
Sakiko was talking as though they'd only been out of touch a month or so. Shigeko knew that she was nothing if not meticulous, and she was not at all the sort of person to ever be late for an appointment or break a promise, but even so she was this laid back. It must be the provincial air. But Shigeko just couldn't take advantage of that to answer glibly “It's coming along nicely, thank you.” On the other hand, it wasn't as if she could answer honestly, “I'm afraid I haven't made any progress at all on it. What with this and that, I ran out of steam … then I got married, and to be honest I kind of lost interest.”
As she hesitated, stuck for an answer, Sakaki said, “Hello? Are you still there?”
Shigeko decided to get to the point. “I'm sorry to call when you're so busy, Detective Himura, but have you been following the TV news?”
“TV news?”
“Yes, a woman's arm has been found in Okawa Park, in Tokyo's Sumida Ward. Her right arm. You hadn't heard yet?”
“No, I've been busy all morning. But go on.”
She heard the tension in Sakiko's voice, and sat up straight. “They haven't identified the woman yet, but a bag found in the same park has been identified. It belonged to Mariko Furukawa.” She knew that Sakiko's memory was surprisingly good, so she said nothing more and waited.
Sure enough, after a few moments Sakiko said, “Mariko Furukawa─she's one of the women you're investigating, isn't she?”
“That's right.”
“Sakaki's in charge of that case, right? I remember hearing about it from him.”
“Yes, he is. I tried calling him, but he's not at the office.”
Sakiko was quiet, so Shigeko waited. Eventually Sakiko said, “We shouldn't jump to any conclusions.”
“I realize that.”
“But I must admit it doesn't look good. Are you going to carry on investigating it?”
“Yes, of course.
“I see. Okay then, I'll try calling Sakaki myself. Is your contact number the same as before?”
As Shigeko gave her the correct phone number, she could hear in the background someone calling Sakiko's name.
“Thanks for letting me know about this. I'll be in touch,” Sakiko said quickly, and hung up.
Still holding the receiver, Shigeko ran through her list of contacts again. Thinking better of it, she put the receiver down. More than anyone else, she really needed to speak with Sakaki now. Until she could get hold of him, she wouldn't be able to take this any further. She left her desk and went back into the living room and switched on the TV again, but there wasn't anything new. She couldn't just sit there, so she went to get her notebook and placed it on the table, opening it up to the list of missing women. There were seven names there, from young girls to middle-aged housewives. Two of the names were highlighted:
Kawagoe: Akemi Kishida (22), student. Disappeared April 20, 1994
Shimoda: Shizue Iino (25), home help. Disappeared August 5, 1994
And, tacked on at the bottom of the list:
Tokyo: Mariko Furukawa (20), office assistant. Disappeared June 7, 1996
Staring at that last name tacked on in handwriting, she suddenly felt guilty at how noncommittal she'd been when Sakaki had contacted her about this case some three months ago.
After she'd seen the flier for Akemi Kishida in Kawagoe in May 1994, a burning curiosity, interest, and drive had welled up in her. The words of the Sabrina editor had come back to her at that time: Write your own stuff. You can do it, Shige-chan. If she was going to write her own stuff, she'd thought to herself, this was the subject she most wanted to write about: women who went missing. Why did they disappear? Why did they leave a comfortable life, their families and friends and lovers? What were the circumstances that drove them to do so?
It wasn't just Akemi Kishida who had caught her attention. Rather, it was the woman on the flier in Shimoda that had stuck to her shoe in a gust of wind when she'd been having such a happy time on vacation─the woman called Yoriko Tanaka, with her protruding front teeth and smiling face─who kept coming back to her, probably because of the contrast between her circumstances and Shigeko's own happiness. Write about it, Shige-chan. Maybe she should take the chief editor at his word.
Even so, when she boarded the Odoriko train bound for Shimoda in June, this time alone, she still hadn't really made up her mind. She didn't know whether or not the officers at Shimoda Police Station would even agree to talk to her, a freelance writer without the backing of a publisher turning up unannounced. She'd simply thought lightheartedly that if it didn't work out, then so be it.
But she'd been in luck. The person she'd met there was Sakiko Himura, who had listened seriously to Shigeko as she tried to explain what she wanted, even though she wasn't even entirely clear about her objectives. Sakiko had been almost scarily good at eliciting information out of her, and while she was explaining her interest in Yoriko Tanaka, before she knew it she had told her all about Shoji and her own work, and even how disappointed she'd been when Sabrina had folded. And how she herself didn't even really understand why, but Yoriko Tanaka and also Akemi Kishida who she'd read about in Kawagoe, were weighing on her mind.
“I see. And so you want to write a report about women who go missing,” Sakiko had said nodding.
“That's right, but I wonder whether I'm capable of it.”
Sakiko had burst out laughing, and Shigeko reddened. She had been writing professionally her whole career, but always with a publisher behind her and the groundwork already done for her. If she looked back dispassionately on her career, not once had she ever been out investigating a story on her own two feet. She had no idea how to go about it.
“Whether you can or not depends entirely on you,” said Sakiko. “To tell the truth, another reporter from a weekly magazine has already been here asking about Yoriko Tanaka.”
“I─”
“To put it bluntly, Mrs. Tanaka ran off with another man.” It turned out she'd gone off with the manager of Yubuneso, the inn where she'd been working. “The circumstances being what they were, it was decided that there wasn't any need for us police to treat it as a missing person's case and launch a search for her. That's why the flier you saw wasn't an official one.”
“Oh. So where is she now?”
“Apparently her current location is known. Her husband tracked her down.” Seeing Shigeko look so deflated, Sakiko laughed again. “But there was one problem. When she ran off with the manager, they took a pile of money from the inn with them. Yubuneso is an establishment of long standing in Shimoda, so it was something of a scandal. That's why that reporter came to cover it. Seems the piece was never published, though.”
Shigeko was stunned. The flier for Yoriko Tanaka had shown the type of face that attracts men. She must be laughing now.
> “It'll probably be difficult for you to find out any more about her from people who know her. The Yubuneso is also on its guard. It's true, too, that Mrs. Tanaka probably isn't a very suitable subject for your report. There's nothing particularly new to analyze about her, since her motives for leaving home are the oldest in the book.”
This was disappointing. If she ever was going to write something of her own, this was it. But how was she going to get started? After all, she didn't even how to go about investigating a story.
Sakiko continued seriously, “But in any case I'm interested in the story you're writing. These days nobody cares about people who go missing. Nobody makes a fuss about someone vanishing into thin air any more.”
“An acquaintance of mine was saying the same thing …”
“Really? But you know, even just one person going missing is terrible. It's a subject you should definitely write about. And I'm sure the families of those missing women will cooperate if they think it can help find them.”
Given how serious Sakiko was being, Shigeko didn't feel she could tell her that she didn't have anyone ready to publish the story.
“Even if you forget about Mrs. Tanaka, you can look into the case of that woman in Kawagoe, can't you? If you go through the PR section and put in a proper request for an interview, someone is bound to talk to you.”
Sakiko asked for Shigeko's address and phone number, saying she would contact her if she heard of anything. Shigeko left the Shimoda Police Station with the feeling that she was in too deep to back out. And part of the reason she went to Kawagoe the following week was because she knew she'd feel bad if Sakiko called to ask how the investigation was going only to find she hadn't done anything yet. But then when she'd received a curt reception at Kawagoe Police Station, she'd felt let off the hook. Until she got a reaction from an unexpected quarter, that is.
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