Zen Attitude

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Zen Attitude Page 13

by Sujata Massey


  “It looks bad, doesn’t it? Like we’re trying to buy you off.”

  “The river washes everything away. Things are forgiven. My mother will not contact the police. She is not even around to worry about me because she’s gone to Kyoto for a tea ceremony convention.” Akemi steered me into the doorway of a small, homey place where a Chinese woman owner greeted her like an old friend. We sat down, but I was unable to concentrate on the menu.

  “Why did you ask me to keep this dinner secret from Hugh?” I asked.

  “He doesn’t trust me. He’ll be upset.”

  “What gives you that idea?” I asked, my stomach doing a funny skip when Akemi laid her hand over mine. She laughed at my obvious nervousness.

  “What do you think? At your party, he introduced me to women but no men. He thinks I like girls, doesn’t he?”

  With mighty concentration, I forced my hand to lie still under her caressing fingers. “Do you?”

  “I told you already that I enjoy men. In limited doses, which is something you should consider.” She freed my hand. “You should leave Hugh. Angus said the two of you have been fighting.”

  So Angus had been listening in. I said, “When you live in close quarters, a little misery is part of the package.”

  “It is a shame to live in such a way when you’re not even thirty.”

  “Spring roll for an appetizer?” the restaurant owner cut in as I began casting about for a defense.

  “Two, with hot mustard on the side,” Akemi said without consulting me. “And for the main course, what are your noodle specials? We both need to carbo-load.”

  It wasn’t until the lychee pudding arrived that I had calmed down enough to tell Akemi about the apartment break-in.

  “So you think the criminals came because of the tansu? Even though it wasn’t stolen?”

  “It’s a sense that I have, although Lieutenant Hata said that the break-in could have been a personal attack. A warning to me, Hugh, or Angus, whose friends seemed pretty unsavory—did you notice them?”

  “A bunch of idiots, those kids. I’d like to see them thrown into a Zen monastery for a few weeks’ training,” Akemi snorted. “You should move out of the apartment. If you don’t go to your cousin’s, maybe I could help you.”

  “No!” I said a little too loudly. “I mean, no, thank you. If someone’s after Hugh, I can’t leave him alone.”

  “But you told him you wanted to live with your cousin.”

  “I didn’t really mean it. That’s just the way I tend to fight.” Akemi looked at me uncomprehendingly, so I pressed on. “I want to be with Hugh. This thing with Angus—if I can just get through it, take a Zen attitude toward his unending visit—”

  “Zen’s relaxing, but it can’t save your life.” Akemi licked the last of the lychee pudding off her spoon. “Come to the dojo and I’ll teach you a few self-defense moves. Seriously.”

  “I shouldn’t go to Kamakura anymore.”

  “But my mother’s in Kyoto. And don’t worry about Miss Tanaka.”

  If that were the case, I couldn’t understand why Akemi had spoken to me in English over the telephone. And why couldn’t I have come to Kamakura for the evening? She didn’t trust Miss Tanaka.

  I rode the Toyoko train back to Tokyo, changing at Shibuya for the Hibiya subway line home. I emerged in Roppongi just after midnight, walking through hundreds of young and happy drunks. Then the streets were quiet, and I walked faster, thinking about the apartment burglar who hadn’t been caught. If I were the target, the intruder might not stop with the burglary. He could be watching me come down the street and have something else in mind.

  I half ran into the apartment building, and as the elevator took me up I felt myself yearning to go faster; now that we’d been robbed, being alone anywhere in the building gave me the willies.

  Opening the apartment door, I stopped dead. A hurricane had swept the apartment again—this time, it was one of order. Winnie Clancy must have gone on a cleaning rampage. Every piece of paper or book had been returned to its place, and the horrifying centerpiece was the sofa already made up for me with pillow and sheets. Had she done that? Would Hugh have announced to her that we had stopped sleeping together?

  I picked up my pillow and tiptoed through the darkness to the bedroom, where Hugh was tossing in his sleep. He was feeling as unhappy as I, probably. I went to his side of the bed and crouched down, lifting the sheet away to study him in the room’s half-light. Even with his eyes closed he was handsome, but there was a tightness in the sleeping face that bothered me. If only I could erase the lines of tension.

  As I lowered my face to kiss him, he jolted upward, moving his arm in a fast arc. A fist slammed against my cheekbone. I fell backward from the bed, landing on the steel rowing machine.

  “I’ll kill you, damn it!”

  I pressed my hands against my cheekbone to dull the pain spreading across my face. Hugh grabbed my hands away, strapping my arms under his. Within seconds I was pinned to the floor. I hadn’t known he was so strong, so violent. I whimpered slightly, hating myself for it.

  “What in hell?” One arm lifted off me, and I sensed him groping for the bedside light. “Rei, I thought—”

  “That I was a burglar?” I whispered.

  “Yeah, I thought someone had come back. It was part of a dream, I guess, and I woke up and felt someone inches from my face. I panicked.”

  “I’m inches from your face every night. I mean, I used to be.” The tears were coming fast now, and Hugh wiped them away with his finger.

  “Let me look at your face. Oh, God. I didn’t expect you to come in—didn’t you see I fixed the sofa for you?”

  “So it’s my fault this happened?”

  “No. It’s mine alone. To have hit you . . .”

  I understood what had happened. Deep down, his anger must have grown so exponentially that his subconscious wanted to punch the lights out of me. The organized, conscious Hugh never would have; but at night, in a dreamlike state, things like this could happen. What would my psychiatrist father say? I wondered, before realizing I could never tell him what had happened. My boyfriend had hit me. A terrible boundary had been crossed.

  “I’m getting an ice pack.” Hugh stood up and pulled on his robe before heading out the door. Dimly I heard Angus in the hall; Hugh said something that sent him back to bed. Good—I didn’t want him seeing me freshly battered.

  I’d crawled under the covers when Hugh returned with a frozen gel pack wrapped in one of his handkerchiefs. He was the only non-Japanese person I knew with a drawer full of ironed handkerchiefs. I sniffled into the soft cotton.

  “Do you want me with you tonight?” He stood at the edge of the bed, looking wary. I nodded. He lay down, but stayed so far on the other side, I might as well have been alone.

  Chapter 14

  My Shiseido cover stick covered the stress pimple erupting on my chin but was not thick enough to camouflage the beginnings of my black eye. I plastered it on anyway. I was in serious pain; at breakfast I had to chew slowly so as not to jar my sore cheekbone. Hugh sat across from me, not saying anything.

  When Angus trailed in wearing just a pair of ancient bikini briefs, I exploded. “Can’t you find anything to wear? There’s plenty of clothing strewn on your floor.”

  “Don’t blow a gasket.” Angus looked from my face to Hugh’s. “Got into some S and M?”

  “I fell on the rowing machine,” I said quickly. Well, it was partly truthful.

  Angus moved closer, as if to examine my eye.

  “Put some trousers, on, man. Now!” Hugh barked at his brother, who unaccountably obeyed. When we were alone, Hugh spoke again. “I’m going to work now, but this afternoon I’m cutting out early to fly with Angus to Okinawa. He’s been asking to go to a white-sand beach.”

  I stared down at the toast half left on my plate. I could shove the whole thing in my mouth and swallow it without feeling a thing.

  “Is there a problem?” he said afte
r a minute.

  We’d never taken a vacation together. But I guessed that was my fault. I had rejected a trip to Thailand in order to search for a tansu that had brought nothing but bad luck.

  “I didn’t think you’d want to come, given you’ve done nothing with my brother and me to date.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” I said carefully. Obviously he was fleeing his expensive, air-conditioned tower because he couldn’t stand seeing me another day.

  “It’s best for all of us, isn’t it?” Hugh said. “Hey, I meant to tell you that Lieutenant Hata called when you were in the bath.”

  “I didn’t know the phone was working?”

  “The police arranged to have NTT fix it yesterday evening. I have a new pocket phone, too.”

  “What about the burglars? Is there any information on them?”

  “Unfortunately not. He wants you to stop by the Roppongi police station this morning. I suggested you delay the appointment until I could be there, but he wouldn’t hear of it.” A muscle twitched in his jaw, signaling how annoyed he was.

  “I can’t think why he wants to see me. It’s not even my apartment,” I said.

  “He probably finds you very charming. And he knows we’re not married.”

  “You sound possessive, which is pretty inappropriate, given the circumstances—”

  “Possession is what sadomasochism is about, guys! Was it fun? Where are your bruises, Shug?” Angus came back wearing my cotton yukata, which barely hit his knees.

  “Too buried to be seen,” Hugh muttered, putting down his cup. “I’ll be late if I don’t leave now. I’ll call home when I get the flights arranged.”

  The Roppongi police station also kept caged canaries. After watching them chirp for a while, I switched my attention to the walls, papered with public service announcements. I was working through a police bulletin displaying an image of a wanted cult member with his hair color changed to red, thinking it could be a Japanese version of Angus, when Lieutenant Hata’s soft voice made me jump.

  “You have seen him, Miss Shimura? The criminal in the poster?”

  I guessed he was making a joke, so I relaxed slightly and said, “I’m practicing my reading.”

  “A good idea, but won’t you come with me to a quieter place?”

  Inside the small conference room, fitted with a plain wooden table and a few plastic chairs, Hata closed the door. He sat down across from me and leaned forward, taking out his notebook. I saw a flash of dull gold on his left hand as he pulled out a pen. So he was married. I couldn’t wait to tell Hugh.

  “I overlooked your injury yesterday,” he said, his eyes on my face. “Did you go to the hospital? If an intruder assaulted you, it’s a very serious charge.”

  “They didn’t. I had a small accident after you left last night.”

  He was silent for a moment, then said, “You should not have to live that way. There are laws against it in your country and ours as well.”

  “It’s not what you think. I fell in the dark.”

  “Face first? Your whole left side should be bruised, then.” His eyes traveled over my unmarked shoulders and arms.

  “This isn’t why you called me in. What can I do for you?”

  “I have some news that I think will please you, Miss Shimura.” He paused, drawing out the suspense. “Your friend Jun Kuroi has been released.”

  “How?” It was too good to be true.

  “I asked my colleagues in Denen-Chofu and Ueno to compare notes about the two deaths you told me about. Early this morning I was informed about laboratory results that made things certain.”

  “And?” I gripped the edge of the table so hard it cut into my palms.

  “When the police reexamined the kidney dialysis machine with more care, they found evidence of tampering. As you suggested, Nomu Ideta’s death may not have been accidental. The dialysis machine switch was jammed. And the invalid’s room bore signs that also appeared in the car where Nao Sakai died.”

  “What kind of signs? Fingerprints?”

  “I’m sorry, but for the moment that must remain confidential.”

  “Were these signs in our apartment, too?”

  “Now that we know what to look for, we would like to go inside again,” Hata said instead of answering directly. “But before I do that, Miss Shimura, I wanted to show you something.”

  He withdrew a brown envelope from the folder of papers he had brought in. Angus’s stash. God help me, we’ll all be sent to prison as drug traffickers.

  “I think you know what this is, don’t you?”

  I shook my head vigorously while he extracted a plastic bag from within the brown envelope. When I saw its contents—a few dozen plastic cards decorated with pictures of fuzzy dogs, Mount Fuji sunsets, and the like—I smiled in relief.

  “Telephone cards?”

  “Black-market phone cards,” he corrected. “I found this package in the bedroom with the futon and fax machine. I didn’t bring them to your attention then because I wanted to test them first.”

  I had a sense where he was headed and didn’t like it.

  “You can see from the tiny holes punched along the side of this card that all one hundred units have been used. However, when I fed the card into a pay telephone booth, it worked perfectly. The magnetic strip has been recharged.”

  “They’re not my cards, and I have no idea who they belong to. Maybe someone unfamiliar with the black market bought these cards innocently?”

  “You cannot buy used telephone cards at any legal outlet in Japan. You know that.” He paused. “One theory is that the person selling these cards might have dropped them in your apartment. By accident, or because he was making an exchange with someone.”

  Mohsen immediately came to mind. I could swear he’d been in the living room the whole time, but I’d been too busy to keep my eye on him once Hugh had taken over. Could Mohsen have come to the party to sell phone cards? I didn’t want to believe it.

  “I called you in, hoping you could give me your party guest list.” Hata wrote a heading on his notebook page.

  “I can’t remember all the names. It was the biggest party I’ve ever given. I have to pull it from the computer.” Hugh’s laptop contained the master list of guests he’d used to address the invitations. He’d written it up weeks ago, so there was no way Mohsen’s name would be listed.

  Lieutenant Hata sighed. “Please fax it to me when you get home, and don’t forget to ask Mr. Glendinning about when we can return for our search.”

  “It might be a little difficult, since he’s going out of town this afternoon.”

  “Where?” He sounded suspicious.

  “Okinawa.” I rolled my eyes. “I know nobody goes to Okinawa in July. But his brother wants to see a white-sand beach.”

  “You will stay alone in the apartment, Miss Shimura? I would think a police presence would be welcome for you.”

  “Oh, I’m going away, too,” I improvised.

  “Ah so desu ka!” Understanding dawned. “You are doing the sensible thing. Leaving so he cannot find you.”

  There was no point in arguing. “I promise I’ll ask Hugh about the apartment search, but I can’t guarantee he’ll let you go in if he’s not there. Being a lawyer, he’s uptight about things like that.”

  “I don’t want to cause you to have trouble,” Lieutenant Hata said. “Please just concentrate on leaving. I will ask him about the search myself.”

  “Are you sure it’s okay?” I couldn’t believe I was off the hook.

  “Just telephone me when you are safe. I will need to know where you are.”

  I left the station feeling as if I’d taken advantage of Hata, who now believed I lived under the thumb of a violent man. I’d have to warn Hugh to be well behaved with him and to wash all the baking dishes. If any shred of Angus’s recreational substances were found, he would be ruined.

  The apartment door was unlocked, something that made me hold my breath as I swung the door
open.

  “Oh, it’s you.” Angus looked up from the backpack he was stuffing with clothes and cassette tapes.

  “Who were you expecting, your underworld friends? Is that why the door’s open?”

  “Say what?”

  “Frankly, I don’t care what you do to your pitiful mind or body, but by the time you leave for Okinawa, I want everything illegal gone.”

  “Sorry?” Angus raised one sardonic eyebrow in the manner of his brother.

  “How do you do it?” The anxiety I’d felt during the police interview sizzled like tempura thrown into hot oil. “In the space of one week you’ve racked up bar tabs you can’t pay and brought drugs and black-market phone cards into this place along with those horrible people. Given that you can’t speak a word of Japanese, your accomplishments are truly amazing!”

  “Do you have my phone cards?” He brightened. “This morning I was going through my gear and couldn’t find them. I thought they’d been nicked.”

  “You admit it, then.” I fell onto the couch, closing my eyes.

  “They were a gift! I was hanging in one of the parks when a guy asked me for a fag. I gave him two, ’cause he seemed to be on some kind of bender. The cards were his way of saying, like, thanks.”

  “I don’t believe you. There must have been two dozen cards in Lieutenant Hata’s evidence bag—”

  “Seventeen,” Angus said mournfully.

  “You call that an even exchange for two cigarettes?”

  “I don’t know. I just want the bloody cards back!”

  I’d done everything I could to save Angus from the police, and he was being insolent. I felt myself start to shake as I said, “If you want to retrieve them, you’ll have to give the police the same pack of lies you’re feeding me.”

  A door slammed, and Hugh was there.

  “What lies?” He was shooting daggers at me, not Angus.

  “Your brother just gave me a ridiculous excuse for possessing a cache of illegal telephone cards. Lieutenant Hata assumes the burglars dropped them, but if he knew the criminal actually lived here—”

  “Apologize to my brother, Rei. He’s not a liar, and you’re out of control.”

 

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