“It’s difficult to make it up and down the stairs now, but yes, a few times per week.”
They talked between them about Murata’s heart rate, blood pressure, and blood sugar levels, and Akiko asked Murata’s permission if she could discuss her health with me in the room.
“Of course. I don’t care,” she said, waving her arm at me. “I have some diabetes. It’s nothing much.”
“Some diabetes?” I asked, with a laugh. “I thought you either had it or you don’t.”
“Well, if she stays away from sweets and takes good care of herself, she’s fine. She barely needs insulin.” Akiko draped her stethoscope around her neck. “Murata-san? I brought Mei-san by here today because she’s looking for some part time work. Her job in Tokyo downsized and now she’s living at home with her mom.”
“What a lucky woman your mom is! To have her daughter at home again.” She rubbed her hands together. “My sons left me here with no help. I should have had daughters.”
“Mei-san was wondering if you need some assistance around the house? Or to get to appointments or go for walks?”
“I’m hoping to help a few people per week,” I said, picking up the conversation, “in order to assist my mom with the monthly bills. Our barn burned down about a month ago and our budget has been tight since then.”
“I heard about this fire! A shame to lose so much over a space heater.”
Akiko lowered her eyes and busied herself with her bag.
“It is a shame indeed,” I said, agreeing with her. “If you need any help, I’m charging 900 yen per hour, and I can even run to the store for you and pick up groceries. I can do anything you need help with. I was a project manager for five years, and I have a degree in business, so I’m excellent at keeping schedules and delegating tasks if need be.”
Murata looked around her apartment, slowly cataloging the contents as her gaze landed on everything within sight.
“I’m not sure how many years I have left on this earth. At ninety-three, I figure another five or so.”
Ninety-three! I guessed wrong.
“You don’t look a day over forty!” I winked at her. “How can you possibly be twice that age?”
She laughed. “You’re hired if you can continue flattering an old woman like me.” She sighed, her shoulders hunching over even more. “I want to clean this place up so I can have friends over if I want to, and I go to the doctor often, and I need help getting up and down the stairs. Could you do all that?”
Inside, I melted into a puddle of relief. “I have one other client that needs me a few mornings to help him, but I could come here in the afternoons, if that would work?”
“If you could come Monday through Thursday afternoons that would be good. I’m sure I have enough work for you. I used to have the help of the sweet young woman across the hall, but she died two days ago.” Murata shook her head and Akiko touched her knee. “I’ve been broken up since then. It was a happy thing for you both to be here today.”
Monday through Thursday? That would be my best gig yet! I tried not to jump up and down.
“I knew Etsuko. My boyfriend and I were the ones that found her on Sunday.” I shook my head to clear the image of her on the floor. “She was a sweet, young woman.”
“People that age are not supposed to die before people like me. She was a good person, but I had reason to believe something was going on with her.”
This straightened me up and I glanced at Akiko. “Why do you say that?”
“She had a regular boyfriend, but then she had men who would come and go from her apartment at odd hours. I sleep on a strange shift, never sleeping deeply except for an hour or two here and there every night. So I would be here in the living room and I could hear these men come and go. One came a lot, at least twice per week. I asked Etsuko about him a few times, but she told me he was just a friend. She often said how much she loved her boyfriend, Hisashi, so I didn’t think too much about the other men. I took her at her word.”
Thoughts churned in my head like a frothy, winter ocean. So, maybe she hadn’t been as loyal to Hisashi as I had thought but instead had several lovers. I imagined a fight between Etsuko and a lover, a tall man, dark and handsome. But no, if anything, she would have fought with Hisashi. They had been together forever, and if she had cheated, could he have been angry enough to kill her? Had she cheated on him? I wasn’t sure. Wouldn’t she have broken up with Hisashi if she wanted to date someone else? He lived far enough away for that to have been a possibility. What had she done to deserve to die? There must have been something big at stake. Something… A debt? A secret? I kept coming back to money in my head. Why was that?
“Mei-chan! Hellllloooooooooo!” Akiko said, waving her hands in front of my face. “You’re so spacey sometimes.”
“I’m a compulsive daydreamer. I was just thinking about Etsuko-san and wondering what happened to her. Did the police come by to talk to you?”
Murata stood up and stretched. “No. But they might have come while I was out. I’m not sure.”
I stood up to join her as Akiko did. “How about I come by tomorrow afternoon around 14:00? I’ll start on cleaning up your stuff here and my friend Goro-san can come by and ask you questions about Etsuko-san.”
“Goro Hokichi? I knew his mother when she was a kid too. Wasn’t she friends with your mom?” Murata hobbled to the door.
I smiled, thinking of my mom and Chiyo, best friends forever. “Yep. They’re still good friends. Goro-san is a police officer now, and he’s looking after Etsuko-san’s case.”
“Okay then. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
We all bowed to each other at the door, as Murata returned to the TV and turned up the volume.
I had a good lead for Goro! Tomorrow, we’d start gathering evidence.
Chapter Eight
I returned home at 18:00 from my day out with Akiko. She had to drop paperwork off at her office, and I tagged along because why would I turn down a free ride home? I wouldn’t. Not when it was -1ºC outside.
The inside of the house was frigid and dark, and my instincts were on high alert as the door creaked open.
“Mom?” I called out. Mimoji-chan came darting out of the kitchen, and I jumped so high I almost hit my head on the ceiling.
“In the kitchen!”
Once my heart rate returned to normal, I dropped my bag next to the kotatsu and headed into the kitchen. Mom was cooking by candlelight, the smell of seared beef wafting through the cold kitchen, and rice cooking in the rice cooker.
“This is the last of Yasahiro’s food, but I brought home leftovers from the school today that we can eat tomorrow.” She stirred the beef stew in the pan and added a little water. “Sorry. I know it’s not much food, but at least we’re eating every day, and we have lots of rice, too. We’ll make it.”
I didn’t want to complain that my stomach was eating itself most days because I’m sure Mom felt the exact same way. But the shock on Akiko’s face said more than the mirror and my baggy clothes did. I was the thinnest I had ever been in my life, and not willingly. Tons of women would diet and exercise like crazy to achieve the results I had, but I knew it wasn’t healthy. I felt that it wasn’t healthy. I couldn’t wait for our life to be more stable.
“Are we not turning on the lights now?” I asked, gesturing to the candle.
“No. Only essentials like the fridge and rice cooker. Gas is cheaper.” Mom turned off the stove and spooned the beef and rice into bowls for us, and we took them to the kotatsu. “We can use the kotatsu for an hour and then boil water for the water bottles and get in bed. I know it’s early, but at least this way we can keep each other warm.”
Mom smiled at me, a genuinely happy smile that I was there to keep her warm. Guilt pressed down on me like a tractor on fresh soil. She wouldn’t have even been in this mess if I hadn’t been there.
“So, I’ve done the numbers, and we can keep this going and buy groceries next week if we sell the car.”
>
I stopped my spoon halfway from my bowl to my mouth. “You’re going to sell the car?”
Oh god, I loved cars. Loved them. They were the ultimate luxury in Japan, and I had this sick talent of being able to spot a car’s make, model, and year from a hundred meters away. When I lived in Tokyo, I would go to the car show every year and drool over all the new models and the concept cars. I wasn’t into racing or anything, but for some reason, cars appealed to me. Mom’s Toyota, a ten-year-old Corolla, was in good shape and would fetch her a fair amount of yen, but selling it? That was one of the last things I wanted to see go.
“There’s a man I work with at Midori Sankaku who’s offered to buy it. I don’t need it. Especially now that you’re home and I don’t have to drive to the city. A bus pass for both of us will be affordable and we don’t have to walk far to the bus stop.” Mom glanced at me, and I was sure my face was the picture of misery. “Don’t be upset, Mei-chan. I know how much you like cars. I was thinking I’d buy a newer used car in the spring. Once—”
“We get the check from the insurance company,” I chimed in and sighed. “Why do I feel like it will never come?”
“It will. You should be more positive.”
Humph. Me? More positive? Fine.
I ate the rest of the meal and told Mom all about my new clients, and she was so pleased, she laughed and clapped her hands.
“This is a great idea. You should have Kumi-chan design fliers for you and put them up everywhere. I bet you’d snag enough clients in no time.”
“I’ll have to fit it in amongst all my sleuthing. I’m going to meet up with Goro-chan tomorrow and talk to the woman I met today. She lives across the hall from where Etsuko-san lived.”
Mom raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t that funny how that happens?”
“She says she knew you when you were a kid. She owned a cake and tea place on the other side of town?”
“Murata-san?” Mom’s jaw dropped. “Yes, I know her! Wow. That was a long time ago. I would love to see her. I’ll come visit her with you later this week or next.”
Though I wasn’t warmed by the air, I was encouraged by Mom’s enthusiasm and zest for living. Anyone else would be depressed as hell with the situation we were in (I was, that’s for sure) but she soldiered on with no worries. She believed everything would come out fine in the end whereas I feared the worst.
When we climbed into our bed with the hot water bottles, I burrowed down under the covers and hoped Mom was right. I had a new job to work at, a murder to solve, and hopefully my nose wouldn’t get frostbite in the middle of the night.
Welcome to your new normal, Mei.
Chapter Nine
I woke up on Wednesday morning, and the fingers of my right hand and my nose were numb. I couldn’t feel them. It was time to start sleeping with gloves on because I couldn’t be trusted to keep my hands under the blankets during the night, but I wasn’t sure what to do about my face. If only I’d had a ski mask, I could’ve slept in that. I laughed at this thought. I wasn’t a particularly good sleeper to begin with, and all the sleeping restrictions lately — Mom sleeping with me, the clothes, the lack of white noise, and the middle of the night wake-ups — meant I was running on very little rest along with limited calories.
I cupped my hands over my mouth and nose and breathed hot air into them for a few breaths before pulling the covers up over my head and sandwiching my fingers between my legs. It was dark and somewhat warm in my cave of covers. Down at the bottom of the bed, Mimoji-chan was circled into a lump of fur, sleeping away. Trying not to wake him, I wedged my feet up against his butt and sighed.
I wondered what Yasahiro was doing right now. Was he in his warm bed? Or had he already woken up and started making himself breakfast? How had he even owned that whole building? He came from a family of soy farmers, and I doubted that his family made much more money than we did. How did he afford his fancy schooling in Paris? How had he made enough money to own a whole building and a restaurant? I didn’t suspect him of any wrongdoing or anything, but I was really curious about how he made his money, if only so I could learn how to do it myself.
I hadn’t seen him since Sunday night when we found Etsuko in her apartment. We’d texted all day every day since then, but no calls or visits. I wanted to visit him, but I also wanted to start working. I couldn’t find work if I was hanging out with him doing nothing but sponging off his generosity. I couldn’t help my new clients if I was sitting in his restaurant’s kitchen making out with him.
Closing my eyes, the kiss came back to me like a punch to the gut. It had been a kiss of passion, a kiss of possession. I’d never been kissed like that before. Tama was a good kisser, as good as any Japanese boy who had a little practice. We were worked so hard as kids to go to school and get good grades that there was no time for dating. Kissing was not the norm in Japan either. It was a new thing within the last two generations, and Yasahiro was probably so good at kissing because he didn’t practice it here. He had learned about love abroad. Would I be able to keep up? A rush of heat flowed through me from my toes, up my legs to my belly. Mmmm, that was nice. I was being heated by my own dirty thoughts.
Deep breath.
What was I going to do today?
My new schedule stood as this: mornings on Tuesday and Thursdays with Yamida so I could help her visit her physical therapist; Friday mornings with Shigimo; and Monday through Thursday afternoons with Murata where I would clean and we would go for walks. Assuming I spent at least two hours with every client, I should make around 14,000 yen per week in cash. It wasn’t much, but it was better than living on nothing.
So that meant I had this morning free. What were my options? I could go to Kutsuro Matsu, soak in a hot bath, and hang out with Kumi. Then I could visit Yasahiro before I went to Murata’s. Hopefully, he’d let me sit in the restaurant and use the WiFi so I could check my email and apply for more part-time jobs. I also hoped he’d give us more food to bring home. I believed we had only one egg left and the custard he made for us. Knowing Mom, she’d saved them for me.
I waited until feeling returned to my fingers, and it was 8:00 before I got out of bed. I wrapped myself in a blanket and headed to the kitchen to heat up water for drip coffee. The sink, though, glistened with a sheen of ice on the inside, and the faucet drips were frozen in a dance of blobs.
“No,” I cried, reaching for the tap and turning it. Nothing happened, no water, nothing. That was it! I’d had it. I stepped back and kicked at the sink. I kicked so hard, the reverberation of the metal echoed up my cold, aching legs. I yelled at the sink. I swore at it.
Then the tears came.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. At the very least we were supposed to have kept basic necessities — some warmth from the kotatsu, electricity, and water. I couldn’t live like this.
I sniffed up and looked around the kitchen, finding a note Mom left on the counter. “The pipes are frozen in the kitchen, but the bathroom is better insulated and the water is flowing there. Please fill up all the empty water bottles you can find. Keep the sink running in the bathroom. I’ve fixed the toilet so it’ll always run until we’re back above freezing again. Love, Mom.”
I closed my eyes and counted to ten, letting the anger, fear, and sadness dissipate. Mom and I would make it through this. I knew we would.
I filled up the empty water bottles in the bathroom, made coffee and ate the custard, dressed, and headed into town, angling my hand-knit-covered head into the frigid wind. Kutsuro Matsu was hopping with people, a van parked outside on the street awaiting its charges who were bathing inside, their voices bouncing around the tiled washroom.
“What’s with all the people?” I asked Kumi, working the front desk. She tackled me with a hug, and I stumbled, surprised, before returning the hug, tightening my arms around her.
I glanced up at the loft space above the bathing area, and Chiyo looked down at me. It was her job to sit up there and make sure that both sides of the bat
hhouse, men on their side and women on theirs, behaved. “You’re our new hero, Mei-chan,” she said, nodding her head at me.
“Goro said you had such great ideas of how to help find the person who killed Etsuko,” Kumi said, pulling away from me. “The police have been going through her mail, email, and phone looking for whomever she was with.” She shook her head, slowly, her eyes wide. “I don’t believe Hisashi could kill her. He loved her so much.” Kumi’s voice broke. “You saw it, right?”
“I did.” My chest lightened with heartache. “They both loved each other. Anyone could tell.”
“What do you think? Who killed her?”
Kumi’s face was round and open, interested in hearing what I thought. I took off my coat since the bathhouse was hot. With the extra bodies in the building, the air was rich with steam.
“You’re not going to like what I’ve found out already. I met her neighbor across the hall yesterday, and I plan to talk with her today too. She said men came and went from Etsuko’s apartment.”
Kumi’s eyes filled with tears, and my heart raced in panic.
“Don’t be upset. She was such a sweet person. Even if she was sleeping with a dozen men, which I don’t think she was, it doesn’t mean she deserved to die.”
“You know how this town is,” Kumi growled under her breath. “You of all people know.”
I swallowed, my stomach a cavern hoping for food each time I opened my mouth.
“I do,” I whispered. “I’ve kept everything quiet to protect Mom, protect Akiko-chan.” I quickly glanced up at Chiyo, but she didn’t hear me. She was engrossed in a magazine. If she knew the situation Mom and I were in at home, she would’ve lost her mind.
Kumi grabbed my hand and squeezed. She was one of the only people that understood our predicament.
The Daydreamer Detective Braves the Winter Page 7