The Kizuna Coast: A Rei Shimura Mystery (Rei Shimura Mysteries Book 11)

by Sujata Massey

  “But the collection’s still safe,” Mr. Ishida reminded me. “I said that if she needed money for school, I’d give her a part-time job, although it could take a few years to reach her goal of school tuition. I also convinced her to let me keep her family lacquer in the shop’s safe for the time being, while she thought a bit more about the situation.”

  “Um, I checked the safe when I was in your store, but all I saw inside was some papers.”

  “There should have been many cloth pouches holding lacquer, all stored within a cedar box.”

  “An empty cedar box,” I said. “That I saw.”

  “Oh, that is terrible news. ” He gazed off into the distance for a moment. “Someone must have broken in! Okada-san always told me to put in an alarm, but I thought Hachiko was enough.”

  “When’s the last time you checked the safe?” I asked.

  “About a month ago, when I put something else in temporarily. A month or six weeks ago?”

  “So we don’t know when the lacquer was taken—and whether Hachiko was there or not. She’s a friendly dog to most people. And unfortunately, your combination is easy to guess.”

  “I don’t think so. It’s a combination of numbers only of personal significance to me.”

  “The combination is the date your father founded the business. That information is embossed on a plaque mounted on the building’s exterior.”

  Mr. Ishida was silent for a moment, then shook his head. “I didn’t think about that. But it’s true, with the information outside, anyone might know. Maybe someone guessed who frequents the area and figured out that I was away. Someone like the boy with rooster hair!”

  “Let me tell you what I noticed,” I said, not wanting him to vanish on a tangent. “If a burglar came, he—or she—passed up many obviously valuable things such as the jade you keep in that glass case. So it wasn’t a smart burglar, right? Or else the burglar was someone who was only after that lacquer.”

  “Are you suggesting Mayumi? She would never do something like that without telling me—”

  “We don’t know that. She was with you for less than a year.”

  “The only reason I could think of her taking out the lacquer was because she wanted to return it to her parents. Yes, doesn’t that make sense? If she was joining me in Tohoku, she might have taken it out because she wanted to return it to them.”

  “Did you ever contact Mayumi’s parents to let them know you had the lacquer?” I felt like I was losing my breath under the mask. I was growing tired from the trash-strewn, uphill climb and the reshuffling of ideas.

  “No. I did call them from the injured persons’ shelter on March thirteenth, hoping that Mayumi had somehow made it to their home. But they said not, and I believe they’re looking all over for her, too.”

  “And during this conversation, the fact that you’d been holding the lacquer safely for them, was never mentioned?” I was suddenly very worried for Mr. Ishida, because he could be accused of being an accomplice to theft.

  “I saw no reason to say anything about the lacquer. Their daughter had disappeared, which was enough of a shock. I told them that I really did try to convince Mayumi-chan that she didn’t need to bring my inkan,” Mr. Ishida continued in a miserable tone. “Mayumi told me it was such a short day trip, that it was no problem. She said she’d phone my friend Okada-san, who owns the senbei shop, if she had any delay returning. Therefore I had no worries about Hachiko’s care.”

  “Okay. I still think we should talk to her parents, just in case they’ve located her and neglected to call you. Did you happen to know the name of their lacquer business?”

  “No, but her father’s name is Shosuke Kimura. He’s quite well known, and their town is called Kinugasa. There are a number of Kinugasa towns in Japan, and this one is a magnet for lacquer artists.”

  I reached into my messenger bag, fingers searching for the familiar cool steel of the cell phone. I touched my wallet, lots of receipts, a granola bar, and a MAC lipstick. Feeling frantic, I dug into my coat pockets, and then all the pockets of my jeans. It was pointless. My cell phone was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter 16

  “I can’t find it.” I told myself that there was no reason for panic. This wasn’t the first time I’d lost a cell phone; it wasn’t like losing a person. It was a hassle, but I’d live through it.

  “Your phone is missing? Perhaps you left it at Morioka-san’s auction house.” Mr. Ishida grimaced in sympathy.

  “It might have slipped and fallen when I grabbed up my bag and ran after you leaving the shelter,” I said, mentally retracing my actions. “Or during the jeep ride. I wouldn’t have heard it fall if it landed in mud. Oh, and even if I do recover it, the moisture will probably have destroyed it.”

  “What a shame,” Mr. Ishida said. “We should tell Mr. Morioka, in case he finds it.”

  “Really, the worst thing is that I won’t know when Michael arrives. His employer is sending him to Tokyo to work with different people on the meltdown problem.”

  “That sounds like valuable work. And don’t worry—I can help with those phone communications. My phone is surely still in my bag.”

  As Mr. Ishida bent his head to examine his phone, I heard the groaning sound of a large vehicle approaching. Pulling up alongside was a long white truck painted with a tanuki, a Japanese wild animal similar to a raccoon, on the side. The tanuki was believed to be a crafty creature, and this version wore a pair of overalls and held a saw. The hiragana type on the side of the truck said Tanuki Carpentry.

  “Shimura-san! Are you going to the volunteer headquarters? I can take you,” a strong young male voice called out.

  Leaning out the driver’s window was Akira Rikyo, the friendly young man I’d met on the bus ride.

  “Thanks a lot. As long as there’s room for two.” As I spoke, I felt a sudden squeeze of my right arm. I glanced at Mr. Ishida, concerned that he might be losing balance. He was fine but was regarding Akira with a shocked expression.

  “Ishida-san, this is my friend Rikyo Akira, who came back from Tokyo to help his parents. Rikyo-san, how are you and your parents managing?”

  “Thanks for asking—as well as can be expected.” His voice was as rough as the long beams of wood in the truck’s open back. It seemed his Tohoku accent had strengthened in the time since we’d spoken on the bus. “We had the cremation ceremony and funeral for my sister and nieces yesterday. Now it’s back to work.”

  Mr. Ishida bowed his head slightly and said, “I’m very sorry for your loss. It’s kind of you to stop, but we won’t trouble you for a ride. The volunteer headquarters is close.”

  “Oh, is that so?” Akira paused, sounding uncertain. “Well, see you later.”

  I’d expected Akira to protest. Instead, he put the truck in gear and accelerated away from us a bit too quickly, so that mud spun out from the backs of the tires as he left.

  Shaking my head, I said, “I wish you hadn’t turned him down. It’s still got to be a half mile or so to the shelter.”

  “It’s a bad idea for us to ride with him,” Mr. Ishida said in a tight voice. “Anything might happen.”

  As if on cue, an aftershock roiled the ground beneath us. I grabbed Mr. Ishida’s torso to keep him from falling. We held each other, the ground buckling, and I prayed no fault line would swallow us up. I wanted to scream, but I held back, gasping instead.

  The terrifying tremor was about a minute. When it finally subsided, I waited for my heartbeat to slow. “What did you mean when you said anything might happen? Did you have a premonition a tremor was coming and not want to be in the truck?”

  “I didn’t want to get in the truck because I don’t trust that fellow.”

  “But I’ve talked to him for hours,” I protested. “And I worry we hurt his feelings, maybe acting like we were too good to ride in the truck. By offering us that ride, he was only trying to show kizuna—”

  “I recognize him from Tokyo,” Mr. Ishida said tersely. “I m
entioned to you a suspicious young man with hair like a rooster? He’s the one.”

  “Akira’s hair does stand up a bit, but he doesn’t do anything with folk craft or antiques. There must be someone else for whom you’re mistaking him.”

  “I recognized the name, too. Rikyo Akira is Mayumi’s old boyfriend from high school.”

  “But that’s amazing. If there’s such a connection—and he’s local—maybe he can help us look for Mayumi. After we call her parents to double-check whether she’s been found, of course.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said?” Mr. Ishida’s voice was uncharacteristically sharp. “Mayumi disliked him! She was always trying to avoid him.”

  I paused, letting this sink in. Suddenly, I remembered Hachiko growling at Akira on the bus. Maybe she’d been trying to tell me something, and I’d been too jet-lagged to notice.

  Carefully, I asked, “Are you saying Akira is a stalker?”

  Mr. Ishida put his head to one side, as if considering the idea. “I can’t make that judgment. But Mayumi asked Rikyo to please leave the shop each time he stopped in. And it wasn’t that she was merely irritated by the attention. It seemed like something more.”

  “Something like?” I asked, because he’d fallen into silence.

  “Something like fear.”

  Chapter 17

  After what Mr. Ishida said about Akira, I began questioning myself a bit more.

  Akira had jumped on the volunteer bus at the last minute with no luggage. Had he been underprepared because he’d noticed me going into Ishida Antiques and decided he’d better follow me? Did he know something about the opened safe? Or, if he really was stalking Mayumi, did he trigger her abrupt decision a week earlier to travel to Tohoku?

  I’d liked Akira. It was unsettling to think I had gotten someone so wrong. But I couldn’t beat myself up about it, because there were more pressing issues at hand. Mr. Ishida and I had just arrived muddy, cold, and tired at the Sugihama survivors’ shelter. And he wanted to see Hachiko.

  Remembering that Miki had pledged to watch over the dog, I led Mr. Ishida into the gymnasium full of families. His aged eyes widened with distress at the sight of the cardboard-bordered dwellings. I pointed out the Hanedas’ space, and led him toward the family.

  At the sound of Mr. Ishida’s voice, Hachiko jumped up and banged her front paws on the cardboard boundary, causing it to collapse. The family next door looked startled, and as Mr. Ishida grabbed hold of Hachiko’s collar, I apologized to them.

  “Who’s this?” Miki, who’d fallen asleep next to the dog, came awake, looking worriedly at Mr. Ishida.

  “Miki-chan, here is Hachiko’s owner, Ishida-san,” I began.

  “Oh, Hachiko, your father’s here.” Miki’s expression relaxed into a smile. “Your daddy’s come back. Just like ours will.”

  “Oh, Miki,” Sadako Haneda said, sounding anxious. She was rocking the fretful baby while her other daughter, Chieko, played with an electronic game.

  “Thank you for being so nice to Hachiko. I’d like to take her outside for a short walk. You will be able to play with her after supper again, if you like,” Mr. Ishida said.

  Miki assented with a quick nod. “Go on with them, Hachiko. It’s time to be with your daddy. He missed you very much.”

  “I’m surprised how that turned out,” Mr. Ishida said as he took Hachiko’s rope leash and walked with me from the high school shelter toward the volunteers’ building. “Although the mother had tears in her eyes. I gather that the husband is still lost?”

  “Yes, since right before the wave. It’s really awful,” I said. “Don’t you think the way Miki was urging Hachiko to return with you seemed like she was acting out her own dream of a reunion?”

  “Maybe it is. They are in the same situation as I am, not knowing if there’s reason to keep worrying, or to start mourning.” He sighed. “I heard some talk about supper and actually am a bit hungry. When will it be?”

  “Usually around six thirty. I can almost guarantee you it’s going to be a soup or stew with a miso base.” With a sinking feeling, I remembered that breakfast wasn’t covered for the volunteers. I only had one granola bar left in my stash…. What would he eat?

  “I have no complaints about miso at any time of day,” Mr. Ishida said. “In the meantime, I’ll take care of feeding and walking Hachiko.”

  “I forgot to mention the dog food and water bowl are still with the Hanedas.”

  “Good. That will give Miki a chance to help, if she likes.”

  I decided to use his absence as a time to inquire about sleeping arrangements for Mr. Ishida. I wasn’t sure if there was even room in the displaced residents’ shelter, or if he’d qualify, coming from out of town.

  Mr. Yano and Miss Tanaka were doing paperwork a quiet corner of the dormitory space and greeted me as I approached them.

  “I’m glad to see you again, Shimura-san. Unfortunately I’m leaving tonight,” Miss Tanaka said softly. “My workplace insists. At least I can tell your cousin how well you’ve been doing here.”

  “That would be great. Excuse me, but I have a bit of a favor to ask you, Yano-san.” I described Mr. Ishida’s release and desire to stay a bit longer in Sugihama while he searched for Mayumi.

  “Of course there’s room for him to be sheltered,” Mr. Yano said. “The mayor keeps the list of everyone going into the big residents’ shelter, but there is also space with the volunteers.”

  “For us to stay near each other would be ideal. But are you sure the volunteers wouldn’t be inconvenienced?”

  “Three-quarters of the volunteers are packing up to return to Tokyo this evening on the same bus as Tanaka-san,” Mr. Yano answered. “It won’t be until the day after tomorrow that more volunteers will arrive. There is certainly room for him.”

  “That’s very kind of you—”

  “Not kind. Just practical.” Mr. Yano told me where to find an extra bedroll, sleeping bag, and woolen socks donated by the military. Miss Tanaka mentioned that toiletries would be available from the Red Cross for him, as well as breakfast snack bars and water. All I needed to do was fill out a form with some details about Mr. Ishida for organizational records.

  I was rushing through the paperwork—Mr. Yano assured me writing in hiragana and English would be fine—when Mr. Ishida arrived with Hachiko at his side.

  “Nurse Tanaka, it is very nice to see you again.”

  “You, too, Ishida-san. Are you feeling well?”

  “Quite well. With the help of Shimura-san, I feel much stronger and enjoyed a long walk today.” Turning to bow to Mr. Yano, Mr. Ishida introduced himself and thanked him for allowing me time away from volunteer duties to help with his release from the injured persons’ shelter. After that, he asked if he’d heard anything about the whereabouts of Mayumi Kimura.

  “Shimura-san gave the information to Mayor Hamasaki and me, and it turns out because her parents knew she was missing, her name was already on many search lists,” Mr. Yano said. “But so far, there is no news of her being taken in for shelter, or confirmed dead or injured. I’m quite sorry.”

  “I suppose that because I’m out of the shelter, I should go look wherever the bodies are kept. In case she’s there, but was not identified. Because she is not a citizen of this town, nobody would know her.”

  He’d forgotten about Akira Rikyo.

  “The bodies have been brought to various school gymnasiums to await identification,” Nurse Tanaka said. “The police can take you to these places, but unfortunately, a number of the unidentified have already been cremated. Therefore, you will not necessarily have the right answer.”

  “Perhaps Hachiko could help search around the town for Mayumi,” Yano-san said. “Wouldn’t you rather do that, now that you’ve got the dog again? It will be a nice time together, since Hachiko cannot sleep upstairs—”

  “But the volunteer with animal allergy is going back on tonight’s bus with me,” Nurse Tanaka said. “Perhaps Hachiko could indeed sle
ep upstairs. It’s so cold—she will keep Ishida-san warm. And the new staircase is working well.”

  Mr. Yano paused, and then said, “All right, then. As long as Ishida-san thinks that it’s a good idea.”

  “Both of us would like it very much.” Mr. Ishida bowed again and again. “I am not deserving of such kindness, but I am so grateful for it.”

  The next morning, Mr. Ishida told me he’d slept well. He joined me for the morning exercise drill, following all movements until the jogging and jumping sequence. With a shrug, he shifted into a tai chi routine. How gracefully he moved, one movement flowing into another. With his hands, he pushed, and I had the sudden image of a beautiful wave that rose and subsided within the stretch of his narrow arms.

  “I see a good idea for exercise modification,” Mr. Yano called out from his position in front of the assembled group. “Maybe Ishida-san can lead tai chi routines for the evening program.”

  “Yes, please,” people called out. I didn’t know how anyone could still have energy for the evening program, which I’d missed each night because I needed to sleep.

  After exercises were finished, I said goodbye to Mr. Ishida, who decided to go with military transport to the places where the dead were awaiting identification. Trying to take my mind off the grisly scenes he might encounter, I went into the kitchen and helped Nobuko-san chop onions. These tears hurt—but I’d trade them any day for emotional ones.

  By ten o’clock, the stew of dried black mushrooms and wakame sea greens was simmering in a thick stock of miso and water. I looked up at a sound and saw Miki come in.

  “Rei-san, I’m sad. Very sad.”

  “Oh, no.” I felt my spirits crash. Probably her father’s body had been found.

  “Hachiko is not in her box outside the kitchen,” Miki said, tears running down her face. “She’s not upstairs where the volunteers sleep. Now she’s lost, just like Butter—”