Remember Tokyo

by Nick Wilkshire

  “I’m just saying don’t get too caught up in one file.” Denault’s features morphed into fake concern. “We don’t want you burning out in the first six months, and the property file’s a priority.”

  And one murdered Canadian and another laid up in a hospital bed with amnesia is not.…

  Charlie decided to keep the thought to himself. “Got it,” he said instead.

  “Well, enjoy your weekend.”

  Charlie nodded and watched as Denault left, wondering what he would say if he knew about Charlie’s plans for tomorrow.

  Charlie arrived at the hospital ten minutes ahead of time for the interview on Sunday morning and found Inspector Kobayashi sitting in the little reception area on the fifth floor. After they exchanged a quick greeting, he set off in search of Dr. Yamaguchi, who was just coming down the hall.

  “How is he this morning?” Charlie asked.

  “He is in good form.” Yamaguchi looked past him to the reception area, where Kobayashi still sat. “Is that the inspector?”

  Charlie noted the surprise in the question, assuming it was related to her gender, and perhaps her relative youth — possibly both. His own instinctive response when he first met her, apart from finding her strikingly attractive, had been similar, based on what he had heard about Japanese society. “Yes, so we’re ready when you are.”

  “We should wait for Ms. Kimura,” Yamaguchi said. “She wanted to be here.”

  Charlie frowned. “I didn’t know she was coming.”

  Yamaguchi looked sheepish. “She came in when I was discussing the possibility with Mr. Lepage. She was quite insistent. I hope the inspector won’t mind.”

  Charlie shrugged. He was pretty sure Kobayashi wouldn’t mind. She might even have a few questions for Kimura and he thought it might be interesting to see how she responded. “We’ll wait, then.”

  “I have a quick matter to attend to, then I will join you.”

  Charlie made his way back to the reception area and took a seat on the sofa opposite Kobayashi’s. She looked different today for some reason, but he couldn’t place it. Her hair was in the same conservative style, and she wore a white blouse under a navy blazer. Then he realized what it was — she was wearing jeans, though the denim was dark enough to pass for slacks.

  “Mr. Lepage’s girlfriend wanted to attend, so we’ll wait until she arrives. If that’s all right,” he added.

  “Of course.”

  They sat in silence for long enough that it was starting to become awkward.

  “Thank you again for the coffee yesterday,” she said, although she had thanked him three times the day before.

  “My pleasure. It’s a beautiful day out there,” Charlie felt the need to add, though the reception area was windowless.

  “Yes, I love this time of year. Spring also, but especially fall.”

  “I hear the cherry blossoms in spring are spectacular.”

  The conversation moved into the features of the various Japanese seasons, and Charlie was surprised to look up at the clock and see that it was now fifteen minutes past ten o’clock. As if on cue, Yamaguchi appeared in the doorway and Kobayashi stood. Charlie followed suit and made the introductions.

  “No sign of Ms. Kimura?” he asked, after Kobayashi and the neurologist had had a brief exchange in Japanese that Charlie half understood as polite banter. Yamaguchi shook his head and looked at his watch, then at Kobayashi. “I must apologize.”

  “Maybe we should start without her,” Charlie suggested, not wanting to get into a prolonged exchange of apologies. Part of him was reconsidering the wisdom of allowing Kimura to participate anyway — she seemed to have an unsettling effect on Lepage. Yamaguchi and Kobayashi exchanged a quick look, then she nodded. “That would be fine.”

  Yamaguchi nodded his own approval and they set off for Lepage’s room, finding him sitting up. He was clean-shaven and looked well-rested. His face lit up with a smile as they entered and Charlie introduced Kobayashi.

  “I am very grateful to you for agreeing to talk to me today,” Kobayashi began. “And may I say I am very sorry that your accident has left you injured.”

  Lepage shrugged and gave her a boyish grin. “It gives me something to do, since I won’t be going anywhere for a while,” he said, pointing to his casted leg. Yamaguchi directed the inspector to a seat by the window alongside Lepage’s bed, while Charlie stayed standing, leaning up against the wall.

  “How long will you be here in the hospital?” she asked.

  Lepage smiled again. “You should ask him.” He pointed to Yamaguchi.

  “He will have a walking cast within the next week. Whether he can be released will also depend on how the other injuries are healing.”

  “He means this.” Lepage tapped his head.

  Kobayashi nodded. “I understand you have some memory loss?”

  “I seem to be okay for remembering things after I came out of the coma. As for before, let’s just say it’s hit and miss.”

  “But you’re making progress,” Charlie said. He was trying to be encouraging, and he got an understanding smile from Kobayashi, but he decided he should probably keep his mouth shut and let her get on with her interview.

  “I am remembering some things from before,” Lepage said. “A little more each day, but it’s patchy.”

  “Do you remember the night of the accident at all?” Kobayashi pulled out a little notebook and an elegant pen adorned with flowers and some Japanese characters.

  Lepage shook his head. “I’m told I was in a car accident but I don’t remember a thing.”

  “Do you remember the type of car you were driving?”

  “One of your colleagues from the Tokyo Police showed me some pictures from the scene, so I know the car was black, but that’s about it, I’m afraid. I don’t know what road I was on or what time of the night it was.”

  Charlie knew from the police report that Lepage had been pulled from the wreck of a late model Nissan 370Z on a stretch of elevated highway in the Yokahama district. He glanced at Yamaguchi to see if he had any reaction to Lepage being unable to remember any of the details of the accident, but saw nothing. Kobayashi went through a series of questions related to the accident, then moved on to Lepage’s work and how long he had been in Japan.

  “I know I was working for Nippon Kasuga, but that’s only because they’ve been in touch with me.”

  “And you were working in the banking field?”

  Lepage nodded. “Apparently since the summer. I have a vague recollection of arriving in Tokyo in the summer — I remember it being very humid.”

  “And the nature of your work — can you be more specific?” Kobayashi looked up from her notes.

  Lepage shrugged, then looked out the window and sighed. “No, which means I’m probably not going to be much use to them if I ever do get out of here. I guess I’ll be heading back to Canada.” He looked at Charlie, who couldn’t help thinking Lepage’s prospects sounded pretty bleak — going home to a place he could barely remember, where he had no family.

  Kobayashi flipped the page of her notebook and wrote something at the top of a clean sheet. “You’re aware of the death of your fellow Canadian, Mr. Seger?”

  Lepage nodded. “Charlie told me. It’s … awful.”

  “I understand he was a friend?”

  “So he told me, but I have to say, I really don’t remember him. I know that sounds bad, especially since he’s dead because of me.”

  “Why do you say that?” Kobayashi looked up from her notes.

  “Well, because he was only in Tokyo to see me.”

  “He told you that?”

  Lepage nodded again. “He said he was in Hong Kong on business, and he decided to get in touch with me by email when he found out I was in Tokyo.” Lepage looked to Charlie, then back to Kobayashi. “Apparently I told him to come and we’d get together, then when he did, I didn’t respond to his emails … until he tracked me down here.”

  “Have you been abl
e to review these emails?” Kobayashi asked him, then turned to Charlie.

  “My phone was destroyed in the crash. As for my home computer, I’d be happy to have Charlie have a look, but I can’t …” Lepage paused and looked sheepish. “I can’t remember my own password.”

  Kobayashi gave another understanding smile. “I could get the emails from the service provider, with your consent, of course.”

  Lepage shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” He looked to Charlie, as though for approval.

  “That’s up to you,” he said, thinking it was really none of his business. “But it might help jog your memory.”

  Kobayashi scribbled a note then resumed her questions. “Mr. Seger came to visit you in the hospital, yes?”

  Lepage nodded. “He was here the day I came out of the coma. He was here a couple of times before that, when I was unconscious, I think.”

  “And you recall your meeting?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you talk about, when he visited?”

  Lepage shrugged. “The usual stuff, I guess. He asked about the accident, how I was feeling. He tried to get me to remember growing up in Toronto — mutual friends and that kind of thing. But it was sort of pointless. I still can’t remember.”

  “That must be very difficult for you,” Kobayashi said. “Did he ask about your work here in Tokyo?”

  “Not really. I mean, he asked a couple of questions about Nippon Kasuga, I think, but that’s all.”

  “What kind of questions?” Kobayashi’s tone was even, though she had looked up from her notes again at the mention of Lepage’s employer.

  “I don’t know. How they were treating me … were they covering the hospital costs and that kind of thing.”

  “Nothing about the kind of work you were doing?”

  “A little bit, I guess. But like I said, I can’t even remember what I was doing there. I know I was in securities, but …” He trailed off, apparently embarrassed at his inability to remember.

  “Did Mr. Seger mention that he planned to meet with someone at Nippon Kasuga?”

  Lepage frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think so.” Then he seemed to recall something, adding: “He did say he wanted to talk to the hospital about getting me released to his care and that he might need to talk to Nippon Kasuga — he might need their support. Something like that.”

  “Mr. Seger wanted to have the hospital release you to his care?” Kobayashi looked to Yamaguchi, who had been standing statue-like against the wall.

  “We had some preliminary discussions to that effect,” the neurologist said, prompting Kobayashi to start scribbling. “But I did make it clear that there was no question of releasing Mr. Lepage until he was medically cleared.”

  Kobayashi nodded, and seemed satisfied with the response. “If I understand correctly, Mr. Seger visited you on the afternoon of the twenty-ninth of October. Depending on the exact time of his death, that would have been the day of, or the day before, he died.” She paused for a second as Lepage awaited her next question with the same alert look in his eyes. “Did he mention anything about where he was going that night, or whether he was meeting anyone in particular?”

  “No,” Lepage said. “Charlie asked me the same question and I wish there was something I could say that would help, but there isn’t. They told me he was found in Roppongi.”

  “You think there’s some significance in the location where he was found?” Kobayashi asked.

  “Just that it seemed like Mike knew how to have a good time.” Lepage smiled, as if remembering something. “He told me some stories about when we were younger, and I got the impression he still liked to let loose from time to time.”

  “These stories …” Kobayashi began.

  “It was harmless stuff,” Lepage said, with a wave of his hand. “Just teenage boys sneaking beers under our coats — that kind of thing.”

  Kobayashi smiled. “I understand.” She continued the line of questions for a while, until she had covered the necessary ground and began to wrap up the interview.

  “I feel really bad about Mike,” Lepage said as Kobayashi flipped her notebook shut and slid it into her purse. “I mean, I know I can’t remember, but it seems like we were pretty good friends when we were younger, and to think he died here, and the only reason he was here was to visit me.… Will you let me know if you find out anything?”

  Kobayashi nodded and stood up. “Of course. And thank you again for your time today. If there is anything that you would like to add to what we discussed today, please do not hesitate to contact me.”

  Charlie chatted with Lepage for a moment, while Kobayashi and Yamaguchi did the same in Japanese, then he and Kobayashi took the elevator down to the lobby. Charlie’s stomach made a grumble that was loud enough to be heard over the mechanical whirr of the elevator.

  “I guess it must be lunchtime,” he said, to cover his embarrassment. “I don’t suppose you know anywhere good around here?”

  Kobayashi smiled. “I was going back to Asakusa. There are many good places to eat,” she said, hesitating for a split second before adding: “I would be very happy to show you.”

  Charlie shrugged. He had no plans, certainly none as good as lunch with Kobayashi. “That would be great, if you don’t mind.”

  She led the way along the same route back to Shinjuku Station that Charlie had become familiar with, and they chatted as they joined a steady stream of pedestrians headed in the same direction. It wasn’t as crowded as a weekday, but it wasn’t exactly quiet, either. They rode the subway northeast for about twenty minutes, continuing their relaxed banter. It had been a gradual process but the car had become quite full for the last leg to Ueno Station. They had been standing comfortably at the back of the car, holding the overhead handles and maintaining a professional distance. Now the crowd had pressed them together so that their arms were touching. As the car jolted forward, her hip pressed against his thigh for a very pleasant moment, until she regained her balance and gave him an embarrassed smile.

  “I apologize.”

  “No problem. I guess Asakusa’s a popular place on Sunday,” he remarked. Standing next to her, he was forced to look down, and he could smell the flowery scent of her perfume as they rode the last minute in silence. The squeal of brakes was soon followed by another swing in momentum that pressed them together again for a few seconds before the car came to a stop and the doors opened. About half of the passengers got off in a thick stream that flooded the platform and swarmed toward the escalator that led up to street level.

  “Many people come to the Sensō-ji Temple,” Kobayashi said as they stood on the escalator and Charlie marveled at the crowd.

  “I was just at a big temple last week, on the other side of town.”

  Kobayashi smiled. “There are many temples and shrines in Tokyo. One of the biggest is Meiji, which is not far from the hospital.”

  “That’s it,” Charlie said. “It’s beautiful.” He remembered the almost eerie peace of the walk through the park, just a few hundred feet from a busy Metro station.

  “Meiji is a Shinto temple. Sensō-ji is Buddhist, and much smaller, but very popular, especially with tourists,” she added, as the escalator disgorged them onto the street. “There are many stalls leading up to the temple. Over there,” she said as they followed the crowd to a large arch with a massive red lantern below it. Beyond the arch, Charlie made out a broad pedestrian street lined on both sides with stalls. There were a dozen people taking pictures of friends under the arch.

  “Hey, you mind taking a picture on my wife’s phone?” a burly man asked Charlie in a southern accent. His wife was standing five feet away, the arch in the background behind her and an American flag in the shape of the state of Texas emblazoned on the front of her hooded sweatshirt.

  “Uh, sure.”

  “You American?” the man asked.

  “Canadian.” Charlie accepted the phone and lined up the shot as the guy stood next to his wife and they
both smiled for the camera. “There you go,” he said, returning the phone.

  “You want one, too?” he said, looking first at Charlie, then at Kobayashi.

  “You make such a nice couple,” his wife said taking her camera from her husband.

  “Ah, we’re good, thanks,” Charlie said as he and Kobayashi exchanged awkward smiles and then set off down the pedestrian street.

  “I can show you the temple if you like.” Kobayashi gestured down the crowded strip. “The restaurants are just a little farther on.”

  “Sure.”

  Charlie followed her as they passed what looked like a wide range of restaurants, but he realized these were probably tourist traps — somewhere no self-respecting local would eat. They strolled through the crowd, past a series of stalls selling the same sort of kitsch — from lanterns to kimonos and inflatable samurai swords. Halfway down, Charlie saw a cloud of smoke rising up in front of the steps leading up to the temple. A few seconds later, he could smell the incense in the cool, autumn air. As they got closer, he could see a lineup of people with incense sticks, waiting their turn to put them in what looked like an enclosed fire pit and then wave the smoke over themselves as they prayed with hands clasped.

  “Some people light them for prayer, or for good luck,” Kobayashi said. “Others put coins in the box at the top of the stairs.” As they approached the temple and made the slow climb up to the top of the steps, Charlie saw that people were indeed tossing coins into a large box and then performing a series of bows and claps before either moving on into the temple or turning around and descending the stairs again. He fished in his pocket and pulled out some coins, tossed them in, and bowed quickly.

  “There’s a ceremony going on inside.” She looked past the entrance to where a line of monks were taking part in a ceremony that involved a series of bows and chants. One of them was waving a long stick that seemed to be covered in long strips of cloth or paper.

  “It’s a beautiful temple.” Charlie was drawn to the intricate woodwork in the walls and ceiling, and on the massive pillars framing the front doors. They looked around for a bit and then walked back down the main steps.