“So he says, yeah.” He sipped his sake as Kobayashi processed the change in his tone.
“You think maybe he can remember more than he is telling you?”
He sighed. “I want to believe him, but I really don’t know anymore.” He didn’t want to get into the doubts he was having about whether some or all of Lepage’s ongoing memory loss was genuine, or Yamaguchi’s concerns about the apparent inconsistency between what his testing revealed and what Lepage was describing.
“You are troubled, I can tell.” She put her hand on his again. “You want to believe in the good in him, but you are finding it difficult.”
He smiled and looked at her across the table. He could smell her subtle perfume from where he sat, and the feeling of her hand, which had remained on his, was intoxicating.
“Would you like some dessert?”
She didn’t reply, just continued to look at him with those deep eyes, until she slowly began to lean forward. He found himself doing the same thing, almost automatically, until their lips met halfway across the table. They kissed for what seemed like a long time, then she pulled back. He was wondering what cultural divides he had inappropriately crossed until he remembered that she had initiated the kiss.
“I don’t want dessert,” she said. “Perhaps you would show me your bedroom, though.”
Charlie had to process her words for a moment, if only to confirm what he thought he had heard, but though they were phrased as a question, she seemed not to expect an answer. Rather, she stood and slowly walked around to his side of the table, holding out her hand. He rose and took it, leading her down the hall, pausing as he entered the master bedroom and spotted the jumble of clothes on the corner of the bed. He swept it to the floor and when he turned back around, Kobayashi was slowly, deliberately, unbuttoning her blouse. When she was done, she took one of his hands and placed it on the delicate lace of her bra, her other hand tugging at his belt as their bodies pressed close and their lips crushed together. He heard his own pulse in his ears as his hand pressed into the soft flesh of her breasts and the other slid up her thigh. Their lips came apart and he felt her hot breath on his neck as he tore off his shirt. She freed him from his pants, then pulled him to the bed, where she crawled on top of him. In the soft light of the room, he could just make out those mysterious eyes through the dark hair that fell forward over her face, before she tilted her neck back and began to rock slowly, intensifying the motion until they were both swept away on waves of pleasure.
They lay in the dark on his bed, the only light the display on his clock radio. He was on his back, her head on his chest and one leg draped over his, her hand running up and down his side very slowly.
“I hope I didn’t shock you,” she said quietly. The truth was, he had been surprised by her agreeing to dinner, but dumbstruck by what had happened afterward. Then again, Redford had told him as much, and he seemed to have a habit of being right.
“No,” he said. “I just had this idea that … I don’t know.”
She let out a little laugh. “You thought a Japanese woman would never … initiate, is that it?” She raised herself up on an elbow and smiled at him. “It is a very common impression, I think, but not always correct.”
“I guess not,” he said with a grin.
“Sake-wa honshin-wo arawasu,” she said, prompting a puzzled look from Charlie.
“What does that mean?”
“Sake reveals the true heart.”
They shared a laugh. “You really are a bit of an enigma, aren’t you?”
She cocked her head to the side in the way she always did when she was searching for a meaning. “What is an enigma?”
“Well, you sort of have two sides — this beautiful, sensuous woman on the one hand, and a successful, intelligent, take-no-prisoners investigator on the other.”
“Take no prisoners?”
“I mean you’re very competent and confident — and I mean both as a compliment.”
She smiled and laid her head back on his chest. “Unfortunately, I’m also … unexpected.”
It was his turn to look puzzled. “You said that before. What do you mean by unexpected?”
“I mean I am not honouring my parents with a career they approve of …. or with a husband and children. Thankfully, my brothers will ensure my family will continue …”
They lay in silence as he wondered what to say, wishing he understood Japanese culture better. She lifted her head and glanced over toward the bedside table, then set her chin gently on his chest, with a little sigh. “I have to go soon. The Metro stops running at midnight.”
He looked over at the clock and saw it was almost eleven. “I’ll go with you.”
She laughed. “I’m a police inspector, Charlie, and I’ve been riding the Tokyo Metro all my life. You don’t have …”
He put his finger across her lips. “I insist.”
She smiled up at him, then pulled herself up to kiss him. “That’s very … gentlemanly.”
“Chivalry isn’t dead yet,” he said as they sat up and collected their clothes from the floor. She disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes while he buttoned his shirt, then they were ready to go. Charlie felt a bit like he was doing a perp walk as they left the building and crossed the common area leading to the main entrance, but they didn’t encounter anyone other than the guard, who smiled and bowed as they headed out onto Aoyoma-dori.
“You won’t have time to catch the last train back,” she said, glancing at her watch as they reached the entrance to the Metro station.
He shrugged. “I’ll probably make it, and I can always get a cab.”
She turned to him and put her hand on his chest. “I must insist.” She stood on tiptoes and craned her neck to kiss him. He savoured the taste of her lips for a brief moment and held her close. She stepped back.
“Thank you for a wonderful evening, Charlie.”
“Thanks for the chopsticks,” he said as she laughed and started toward the stairs. “Can I call you tomorrow?”
She nodded and waved. “Good night.”
He felt light as air as he turned and headed back toward the embassy, oblivious to the night’s chill, or to the sight of Aiko Kimura slipping from the shadows and hurrying down the stairs to the Metro station after Kobayashi.
CHAPTER 27
Rob Lepage browsed kimonos of every colour, size, and fabric hanging on display in the basement floor of the Oriental Bazaar on Omote-sando Avenue. Glancing around the crowded store, he could see why she had picked it — the clientele was mostly Westerners. In fact, the staff seemed to be the only Japanese people in the place, a distinct difference from anywhere else in Tokyo, where his fair hair and skin, not to mention his height, sometimes made him feel like some sort of alien.
“Find anything you like?”
He turned with a start to see Kimura standing at his side. “Where did you spring from?”
“I watched you come in,” she said. She was dressed casually, her long hair mostly hidden under a peaked hat.
“I came alone, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
She smiled. “I know you’re not that stupid.” She moved off toward a display of T-shirts featuring everything from slogans in Japanese to pictures of samurais and swords in different colours.
“So, what’s up?” he asked quietly. To anyone watching they looked like a couple out for a leisurely shop.
“Your friend at the embassy is becoming … troublesome.”
“Hillier? He’s not my friend; I’m just his consular case.”
“He’s been working with the police, asking questions he shouldn’t be asking.” Lepage felt a stab of alarm. It must have shown on his face, because Kimura picked up on it immediately. “What?” Her voice was almost a hiss.
He shook his head. “It’s probably nothing, but he was at my apartment the other day. He may have been inside …”
“Could he have found something?”
Lepage shook his head.
“No way. I’ve scoured the place from top to bottom, plus he doesn’t even know what he’s looking for.”
She gave a little grunt. “Neither do you, apparently.”
“I told you, it’s just a matter of time. My memory’s coming back.”
“Hmm.” Kimura moved on to a display of lacquered boxes in varying shapes and sizes. She picked one up and examined it. They were all mass-produced, probably in China, but they were the sort of kitsch tourists couldn’t get enough of.
“You don’t believe me?” He picked up a smaller box next to the one she had selected.
“I spoke to your doctor yesterday. He said your test results were normal.”
“So?”
“So why can’t you remember where you put it?”
“I told you, I can remember some things but others are still a blank. Yes, my test results were normal, but that doesn’t mean shit, and Yamaguchi would tell you the same thing if you bothered to ask. Amnesia is not an exact science.” He paused and set the box back on the table and turned to look her in the eyes. “I’m not holding out on you.”
She smiled, but her eyes retained the same chill. “That’s good, because that would be very unwise.”
“So, what’s Hillier been asking the police?” he asked, as they kept moving toward a display of fans.
“He’s been getting very cozy with that bitch Kobayashi, and she’s been asking about Nippon Kasuga, whether they have any yakuza connections.”
“But what would lead them to Nippon Kasuga?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, all I know is that Kobayashi has been sniffing around the organized crime unit for details.”
“And you know this how?”
She stopped and gave him a condescending look, as though parent to child, and he realized the naïveté of his question. “Because you have people on the task force, obviously. So what do you want to do?”
“I think it’s time something unfortunate happened to Mr. Hillier, before he stumbles onto something he really shouldn’t,” she said, picking up a fan and spreading it out to reveal the image of a cherry tree in full bloom.
“Won’t that just make Kobayashi more suspicious?”
Kimura shrugged. “She’s on her own — there is no official investigation. But perhaps she should have an accident as well.”
Lepage nodded. “Do what you have to. In the meantime, I’ll keep looking. Sooner or later, it’s going to come back to me.”
“You better hope so.” Kimura set the fan down and headed off toward the stairs.
Lepage waited a few minutes before following Kimura upstairs and out onto Omote-sando Avenue. He glanced up and down the sidewalk, at the late morning crowd of Sunday strollers into which she had immersed herself. He started walking south, past the high-end stores where the price tags in Japanese yen looked even more astronomical than they actually were, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed. Lepage was about to end the call when he heard a voice at the other end.
“Hi, Charlie. I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”
“I was just getting out of the shower when I heard the phone. What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you had any plans for lunch.” Lepage stepped out of the moving crowd in the brief pause that followed. “My treat,” he added. “As a thank-you for all the work you put in on my case, visiting me in hospital … everything.”
“That’s my job. You don’t have to …”
“No, I want to,” Lepage persisted. “It occurred to me that I never really thanked you. Come on, lunch is the least I can do.”
“Um, sure. Where did you want to meet?”
Lepage looked up the street. “There’s a sushi place on Omote-sando. Just up from Meiji-jingūmae Station. You like sushi?”
“Yeah, of course,” Charlie replied, taking down the coordinates.
“Noon okay?” Lepage asked. “They get pretty jammed up after that.”
“That works. I’ll see you there.”
Lepage ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket, the smile he had worn a few seconds before now replaced with a grimace. He liked Charlie, but he had to remind himself that this was business, and serious business at that. Sometimes people put themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was nothing he could do about that.
Charlie arrived at the restaurant at ten past and had to fight his way through the lineup outside just to make it to the hostess. He had begun an attempt to explain that he was meeting someone inside when Lepage appeared at his side, thanking the hostess in Japanese as he pulled Charlie with him toward a little table at the back of the main dining room.
“You weren’t kidding when you said it gets busy,” Charlie said as he took a seat.
“I haven’t been here in a while, but it’s always good.” Lepage pointed to a pair of beers on the table, the cold liquid creating beads of condensation on the outside of the glasses. “I took the liberty of ordering a drink. Wasn’t sure if you liked sake or not.”
“Beer’s good.” Charlie followed Lepage’s lead and picked up the glass. They tapped them together and drank.
“To you, Charlie. You were a lifesaver. I don’t know what I would have done without a fellow Canuck in my corner.”
“My pleasure. Here’s to your continued good health.”
“So, how are you liking Tokyo, anyway?” Lepage asked. “You’ve been here — is it a month yet?”
“Not far off.” Charlie nodded. “I have to say, it was a bit of an adjustment at first, but it’s really starting to grow on me.”
“You used to the crowds yet?”
“Yeah, they take a bit of getting used to, for sure.” He moved his chair in as the table next to them filled with a half-dozen people, as if to underscore the point. He and Lepage shared a laugh.
“How about you? How are you feeling?”
Lepage took another sip of beer. “Pretty good. Still a bit frustrated by the gaps, you know, but it’s coming. And Yamaguchi is staking his reputation on me recovering fully, so it must be so.”
“I’m sure you will. Are you going to go back to work?”
“I’m not really sure what I’m going to do,” Lepage said, after a waitress had taken their orders. “In a way, this whole thing has made me re-examine my priorities a little. I was thinking I might try my hand at something a little different. Maybe take some time off, do some travelling.”
Charlie smiled. “Sometimes a clean slate is a good thing.”
“You sound like you know what you’re talking about, Charlie.”
Charlie shrugged and took a sip of beer. “All I know is if you have the chance to take some time for yourself, you should do it. Who knows what’s around the corner.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
The conversation moved on to Lepage’s plans for the future, then to their respective impressions of Tokyo as their food arrived and they ate it leisurely. Eventually, Lepage shifted the conversation to Mike Seger.
“Is there anything new on what happened to him?”
Charlie shrugged, then shook his head. “I’m afraid not. The police are treating it as a scam gone wrong, so I’m not sure we’ll ever find out.”
“Really?” Lepage seemed genuinely surprised. “And you can’t, you know, pressure them since he was a Canadian?”
“I’ve tried, believe me. We’re doing all we can.” Saying the words, Charlie realized how hollow they must sound. Of course, he failed to mention the fact that Kobayashi seemed to be carrying on a pretty thorough investigation despite the fact that, officially, none existed.
“It’s too bad, because that detective seemed pretty sharp. I got the feeling that if she was on the case, it wouldn’t be long before we had some answers.”
Charlie nodded. “Yeah, she’s very bright.”
“Not to mention beautiful.” Lepage gave a little whistle. “Must be tough for her in this culture. I mean, in that line of work and when you add in her sex appeal.… She must
have to deal with a lot of shit at the office.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Charlie pretended to focus on picking up the last few grains of rice with his chopsticks.
“No disrespect,” Lepage added, and Charlie wondered whether he sensed his discomfort at the subject. Lepage glanced at his watch. “Well, I should probably get going and let you get on with your day.” He glanced around until he spotted the waitress and made the sign for the cheque.
“Thanks for lunch. It was great,” Charlie said, reaching into his pocket until Lepage spotted the move and waved him off.
“No way — this is on me. You can get the next one.”
Charlie nodded, but pulled out his wallet anyway. “That reminds me,” he said, in response to Lepage’s puzzled look. “Here’s your room key.”
“Oh, right,” Lepage said, accepting the plastic key card and putting it in his pocket. He settled the bill with the waiter, and as they were about to get up, he tapped his fingers on the table. “Say, do you have that postcard?”
Charlie was expecting the question, so his disappointed expression came off as genuine. “I couldn’t find it. I looked everywhere, but it must have gone into recycling or something.” He looked at Lepage, and there was a moment of hesitation as the two men held each other’s gaze, then Lepage shrugged.
“That’s too bad. I was hoping to see if it might help me fill in some of the remaining gaps, but it’s not a big deal.”
“I’m really sorry,” Charlie said as the awkwardness passed and they got up from the table, making their way to the door. “I’ll have another look.”
They paused outside on the front step and shook hands.
“Don’t bother,” Lepage said with a little smile. “I have a feeling you won’t find it. Stay well, Charlie.”
“You, too.”
Charlie watched as Lepage headed off in the direction of his apartment. He glanced up at the sky, which had darkened in the hour since he had gone into the restaurant. The grey clouds seemed threatening, and as he considered whether they were getting ready to unleash a torrent of rain, the wind whipped up and sent leaves scattering down the sidewalk and the wide boulevard of Omote-sando. Charlie zipped up his coat and headed for the Metro station. He felt unsettled, but not by the weather. It was the look in Lepage’s eyes — there was something he was holding back. Suddenly the good-natured offer of lunch seemed like just a pretext, but for what? To get his apartment key back, for one. But there was more. And what was so special about that damned postcard? More than anything else, he was beginning to suspect that his fundamental assessment of Lepage was off, and in Charlie’s experience, that was never a good sign.
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