“I brought you a few things,” Charlie said, walking around to the side of the bed, as Yamaguchi took up his position at the foot. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that there wasn’t a lot there, in terms of personal stuff.” He watched Lepage’s face fall a little and backpedaled. “You know, because you’ve only been here a short time, and the company probably provided you with a furnished place, so it’s understandable that you haven’t really had the chance to personalize it … yet.”
Lepage shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. So, what did you bring?”
Charlie rummaged in the bag and brought out a bright red silk tie. Its weight, combined with the label on the back told Charlie it was out of his own price range. He set it on top of the comforter and watched as Lepage eyed it, then picked it up.
“It’s kind of … bright,” he said, after a while. Charlie glanced at Yamaguchi, but whether it was just the doctor’s usual inscrutability or because of Lepage’s lack of reaction, Charlie saw no evidence to suggest any sort of breakthrough. He pulled the second tie out of the bag. This one was of the same quality silk, but the pattern was a more conservative black, with small white dots. He handed it to Lepage.
“How about this one?”
Lepage took it, ran it through his hands and turned it over, looking at the label, then putting it next to the red one. “It’s not really giving me anything. What else have you got in there?”
Charlie pulled out the two pairs of cuff links and set them on the edge of the bed.
“These are nice,” Lepage said, selecting the silver acorns first, then the gold squares, centered by black stones. “But they don’t really mean anything to me either. You didn’t find any pictures, huh?” he asked, staring at the cuff links.
“Maybe they’re still in storage,” Charlie offered, though he hadn’t seen any unpacked boxes anywhere. He handed Lepage the letter he had taken from the home office. “How about this?”
Lepage scanned the text, but again showed no spark of recognition, so Charlie pulled out the postcard of Mount Fuji. “I found this on the hall table — looks like it was just delivered.”
Lepage looked at the front of the postcard for a moment, then flipped it over, his eyebrows creasing as he frowned. “It’s blank.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if it was an inside joke or something …” He paused, seeing the confusion on Lepage’s face and thinking maybe the postcard was a poor choice if he was trying to jog a memory. Clearly, he had just added to Lepage’s disorientation. He kept digging at the bottom of the bag and brought out the pen. His best hope. As Lepage reached out and took it from him, Charlie thought he saw something — a spark in Lepage’s eyes — but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a shrug and a sigh.
“You a Habs fan, Rob?”
Lepage looked up at him, then back at the pen. “A what?”
“It’s a Montreal Canadiens pen. I figured you for a Leafs fan.” Charlie smiled, tapping him gently on the arm. Lepage just looked at him with a bemused expression on his face, then it brightened.
“The hockey team … of course.”
“You remember, then?”
“I remember hockey … I remember the Leafs and the Canadiens, yes.” Lepage was nodding, as though something were falling into place.
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Charlie looked to Yamaguchi, who was smiling.
“Yes, that is a good sign.”
Charlie saw the positive news as an opportunity and didn’t hesitate. “Doctor Yamaguchi mentioned that you might have been speaking some French when you first came out of the coma,” he said, watching as Lepage’s face took on a puzzled look. “Do you speak French?”
“Do I speak French?” Lepage’s puzzlement turned to sheer confusion. “What are you talking about? I don’t … at least I don’t think I speak French.” He paused, as if struggling with the concept. “Like, I know how to say a few words, from school, but I don’t actually speak French.”
“I may have misunderstood. You were talking quite rapidly,” Yamaguchi said, though Charlie thought he had sounded pretty convinced when he had first mentioned it. “What about the pen, Mr. Lepage. Do you remember it?” Yamaguchi changed the subject.
Lepage turned the pen around in his fingers and stared at it, as though willing it to conjure up some memory, before shaking his head. “Not really.”
“But you remember the team. This alone is positive.”
Lepage shook his head and his features darkened as he looked at Yamaguchi. “No it’s not. It’s so … frustrating, my God — when am I going to remember?”
“You are making good progress, Mr. Lepage,” Yamaguchi’s tone was soothing, but not enough to overcome Lepage’s obvious agitation.
“Bullshit. I still can’t remember a fucking thing!” He tossed the pen at the wall. In the silence that followed, Charlie picked it up off the floor and offered it to Lepage.
“You should keep it. Maybe it will jog —”
“I don’t want the fucking pen! You keep it, if it’s so goddamned important to you. All of this shit,” he said, sweeping the items from the comforter. Charlie stooped to collect them from the floor and put them back in the bag. Looking up, he saw that Yamaguchi was gesturing subtly toward the door.
“I should get go—”
“What is happening here?” Aiko Kimura was suddenly standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, her dark eyes aglow in a way Charlie hadn’t seen before. “I heard shouting out in the hall.”
“We were just trying to help jog Rob’s memory with some personal items, that’s all,” Charlie said, straightening up.
Kimura brushed past him and sat on the edge of the bed, running her hand down Lepage’s arm.
“Well, it doesn’t look like you’re helping him. He looks upset.” Lepage began to protest but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I think you should let him rest,” she said, looking first at Yamaguchi and then at Charlie. The two exchanged a glance in the awkward silence that followed, and then Charlie headed toward the door.
“I was on my way out, anyway.”
Lepage seemed to want to say something but remained silent. Out in the hallway, Charlie paused and waited for Yamaguchi to catch up.
“What do you make of that?”
Yamaguchi shrugged. “As expected, I suppose.”
“Really? I was kind of hoping for more of a reaction, to the pen at least.”
“It’s a slow process. But he remembers the hockey team, which means his long-term memory is coming back.”
“I guess so.” Charlie nodded. “Is she here every day?” he added, gesturing back toward Lepage’s room.
“Ms. Kimura? Usually, yes.”
“I get kind of a strange vibe from her, don’t you?”
“She can be difficult, if that’s what you mean.”
Charlie’s ears perked up. “In what way?”
“She has been … unhappy with the speed of Mr. Lepage’s recovery. She wants him released to her care as soon as possible.”
Charlie frowned. First Seger, now Kimura, both had seemed to want Lepage out of the hospital ASAP. “I still have a hard time seeing them as a couple.”
“People can surprise you,” Yamaguchi said, looking at his watch. “I have another appointment, so I have to leave you. I appreciate your efforts today, and don’t be discouraged. I’m still optimistic that his memory will be fully restored in time.”
They shook hands and Charlie returned to the elevator. On the ride down, he couldn’t stop thinking about Lepage’s expression when he saw the pen. There had been something there — a flash of recognition — Charlie was sure of it. It was as though Lepage had wanted to conceal it, but why? After all, it had been Lepage’s idea for Charlie to go look for items that might jog his memory in the first place. It didn’t make any sense.
Charlie headed back to Shinjuku Station, his mind replaying Lepage’s reaction at see
ing the pen, and the look in Kimura’s eyes when she found Charlie and Yamaguchi in Lepage’s room, as though they were intruders. After getting on the subway car he stood in the corner and put his hand in his pocket, realizing that he still had Lepage’s apartment key. It wasn’t worth going back now — he would return it the next time he went to the hospital. He plucked his phone out of his jacket pocket and saw an email from Karen Fraser, asking him whether he had enjoyed last night’s outing. He was about to respond when he saw another unread message from a Japanese account that he didn’t recognize. Clicking it open, he realized it was from Chikako Kobayashi, asking him if he would be available to meet her today. It seemed odd that she would want to meet on a Saturday, but he realized that as an inspector, she probably worked more than her share of weekends. Coming up out of the Metro at Akasaka, he sent her a reply, suggesting they meet for a coffee. He got a response a few minutes later, with the address of a coffee shop on Aoyama-dori, just down the street from the embassy.
Charlie was sitting at the window when he saw Kobayashi approaching the coffee shop. She was dressed in a carbon copy of the outfit she had worn the other day, but for the fact that this one was navy blue instead of charcoal, over a light-blue shirt instead of a white one. Her hair was tied back in the same way she always wore it, but she seemed more relaxed today. She smiled as she recognized him at the window and made her way through the shop to meet him.
“Thank you for meeting me,” she said, after the usual bow.
“I was just going to order. What can I get you?”
“Oh no.” She began to wave her hands, and it was only after Charlie’s insistence that it was his treat that she finally allowed him to order her a small cappuccino. When he returned a few moments later with the coffees, Kobayashi got down to business.
“I wanted to give you an update on the Seger case,” she began, stirring the foam on the top of her drink, then delicately setting the spoon on the saucer. “First, the Japanese authorities have decided to proceed with an autopsy, provided your embassy has no objection, of course.”
Charlie shook his head quickly, thinking that was great news. “There’s only one family member that I was able to contact, and I’m pretty sure she’s not going to mind. I’ll confirm as soon as possible.” He took a sip of the delicious coffee, then set the cup down. “What made you change your mind?”
“It wasn’t my decision, of course,” she said. “But there are indications of foul play that we think warrant further investigation.”
“Something new?” They had known from the start that Seger had died from a blunt force trauma to the head, and Kobayashi had also mentioned that while people being drugged for their credit cards was not uncommon in Roppongi, murders related to those scams were.
Kobayashi sipped at her coffee, then nodded slowly. “You mentioned that you met with a Mr. Mashida at Nippon Kasuga, yes?”
Charlie nodded. He had told her about his visit to Nippon Kasuga’s office in Mori Tower, and the fact that Mashida had never heard of Mike Seger. “That’s right.”
“I checked with reception at Mori Tower, and there is a record of Mr. Seger visiting Nippon Kasuga two days before he was killed.”
“What?” Charlie remembered the detailed process he had gone through himself to get a visitor’s pass to enter the building, but it hadn’t occurred to him to check if Seger’s name was also in the system. “Why would Mashida lie about that?”
“I intend to ask him, but I would like to speak with Mr. Lepage first, with your permission.”
Charlie shrugged, thinking she probably didn’t need his permission to interview someone, Canadian or not, who might have information useful to a Japanese homicide investigation. He wondered how Lepage would react though, to find himself being questioned by the police in relation to his friend’s possible murder — a friend he couldn’t remember. As if he wasn’t disoriented enough.
“You have reservations?”
He shook his head. “No, I think it’s a good idea for you to talk to him. I’m just concerned that he may feel a little overwhelmed. He’s just gradually getting his memory back and he’s a little … fragile.”
“Perhaps he would feel more comfortable with you there?”
“Yes, I guess I could arrange it, and sit in. When would you want to interview him?”
“It’s not a formal interview. Just a few questions, but the sooner the better.”
“Did you want to do it tomorrow … or this evening?” He looked at his watch. “I just came from the hospital and he was a bit upset. He’s having a hard time with the memory loss.”
“Tomorrow would be fine. In the morning, perhaps?”
“I think I can probably arrange that. It’s not like he’s going anywhere. Do you normally work on Sundays?”
She smiled. “Sometimes. Not often.”
They chatted about the case for a while and as they finished their coffees, they slipped into a more relaxed exchange about life in Tokyo. He learned that she lived in the Asakusa area, and had been an investigator for five years.
“You must have been very young when you were first appointed,” he said. She seemed embarrassed and he wondered if he had offended her. “I just mean that investigators are usually a bit older … in Canada. Maybe it’s different here.”
If she was indeed offended, it didn’t last, and she asked him about Canada. He was surprised to discover that she knew where Newfoundland was.
“Tokyo must seem very different to you.” Her smile, though demure, lit her face and the corners of her soft but inquisitive eyes.
“It is very different,” Charlie said, nodding. “But I’m starting to get used to it. I think the time difference really messed me up for a long time. I feel like I’m over that now, and I’m ready to start exploring the city a bit more.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, their coffees long finished, and eventually headed to the exit.
“I’ll confirm there’s no objection to the autopsy,” Charlie said as they stood on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop. “And I’ll set up a meeting for tomorrow with Rob Lepage at the hospital,”
“Thank you, and thank you again for the coffee.”
As he began walking up Aoyama-dori, he realized they were headed in the same direction.
“I have some business at the local precinct,” she said as they approached a building he hadn’t noticed before, despite walking by numerous times on his way to the embassy from the New Otani Hotel.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said as they parted ways at the precinct entrance. As he walked on up the hill toward the embassy compound, he felt an excitement that added a little spring to his step. Whether it was the prospect of getting a lead from Seger’s autopsy or something else, he wasn’t sure. But it made him feel good, so he decided not to question it too much.
CHAPTER 13
Charlie shut down his computer and looked at his watch. He had dropped by the office — deserted on a sunny Saturday afternoon — to call Mike Seger’s sister and to make arrangements with Dr. Yamaguchi for a possible interview tomorrow. Seger’s sister had seemed more concerned about having to foot the bill for the autopsy, but once she accepted Charlie’s assurances that it wouldn’t cost her anything she agreed readily. He sensed she would have agreed to anything just to get off the phone. As for Yamaguchi, he had no objection to the interview and didn’t think Lepage would either, though he agreed to run it by him and get back to Charlie with a confirmation email. He was debating where to go for lunch when he heard footsteps in the hall. A few seconds later, Louis Denault appeared at his doorway, dressed in jeans and a sweater. It was odd to see him in anything other than his usual uniform of a dark suit, white shirt, and muted tie.
“Working weekends your first month here, Charlie?”
Charlie smiled, though he knew Denault’s statement carried a serious undertone, having made the point at Charlie’s first staff meeting that there was no money in the embassy budget for overtime for consular sta
ff. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan to put in a claim,” he said. “Just figured it was easier to drop by the office to make a couple of calls than do it from home.”
“That’s the problem with living so close to your place of work.” Denault gave a thin smile. “This to do with your consular case?”
Charlie nodded, before he realized that Denault might not be asking out of general interest or making casual conversation. He realized his misstep and tried to correct it, but it was too late. “I just figured it was easier to make a long distance call from here, that’s all.”
“I’m sure you mean well, Charlie, but we have to remember our role in the system.”
“What do you mean?” Charlie felt his face growing hotter by the second.
“I just mean there’s a process to follow, and sometimes going outside of that process isn’t helpful.”
“I’m really not sure what you’re getting at …”
“Did you meet with Nippon Kasuga this week?”
Charlie was taken aback. “As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Why?”
Charlie had to restrain himself from saying something he might regret, considering that whatever else Denault was, he was Charlie’s immediate superior. “They’re Rob Lepage’s employer. I thought they might have something in their files that would put me in touch with Lepage’s family. Why are you asking, anyway? Did they complain or something?”
“Not to me.” Denault’s face bore a smug look. “The HOM did get a call though, wondering what his staff thought they were doing.”
Charlie was about to ask for more, then made a snap assessment that Denault was bluffing. The little Charlie knew of ambassador Westwood he liked, and he didn’t see him getting bent out of shape because one of his consular staff was trying to do his job. “Well, he never mentioned it to me.”
“I’m mentioning it to you … now.” Denault’s smug grin was back. “And how’s the property file moving along, by the way?”
“I’ve got a meeting this week,” he replied, which was only partially true. He owed Miton a confirmation email, which he now realized he should have sent on Friday.
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