Newcomer

1

“What’s this Iga fish plate doing on the shelf here? The black Bizen ware is supposed to be displayed over here. You got it wrong again. Why do I have to tell you the same thing over and over again? I’m at my wit’s end.”

Suzue grumbled to herself as she rearranged the plates displayed on the store shelves. Naoya just raised his newspaper a little higher in front of his face and pretended not to hear. Having to absorb an earful of complaints after coming home from the office every day was not his idea of fun.

It was the ideal time of day for customers to wander in off the street, but none of the people walking by outside showed any sign of stopping. On a day this hot, popping into a nice, air-conditioned store for a bit of browsing was a natural impulse. Unfortunately, their shop was wide open, with only an old electric fan whirring away to cool the air.

“Getting air-conditioning is the least we can do — if we want any customers at all, that is,” Maki had commented the other day. She and Naoya had married last fall, so this was her first summer at the family shop-cum-residence.

“What’s the point? With an open-fronted shop like ours, air-conditioning won’t make a bit of difference,” was Suzue’s response. She was looking at Naoya as she spoke. Even when they were talking to each other, the two women barely looked at one another.

“Then we should close up the front of the store. If we got glass doors, people would be able to look in from outside, and the cold air would stay in,” said Maki, looking at Naoya.

When Naoya made the mistake of emitting even a noncommittal grunt, Suzue felt that she had to argue the point.

“Closing up the front, even with sliding glass doors, will still make it that much harder for customers to come in. Anyway, what about the things we have on display out on the street? What are we supposed do with them? Bring them all back inside and slam the doors shut behind them? Everyone will think that Yanagisawa’s gone out of business.”

“It’s like a sauna in here right now. Even the few people who’ve happily come in can’t beat a retreat fast enough. No one spends any time browsing.”

“That’s just not true. Not everyone’s in love with air-conditioning, you know. Some of the customers comment on our wind chime and how it makes them feel cooler.”

“Only old-timers would say something like that.”

“Those ‘old-timers’ are important customers for us.”

The two of them went at it hammer and tongs. Naoya was stuck in the middle, unable to take sides. All he could do was waggle his head ambiguously and groan inside. But the womenfolk wouldn’t let him off so lightly; in the end, both pressured him to express an opinion on the matter.

“Oh, golly,” mumbled Naoya, scratching his head and smiling goofily at them both. “How about you let me think about it a while? Maybe we should have dinner now?”

The two women fell silent. Dinner was eaten in an atmosphere of subdued tension. That’s the way things were in the Yanagisawa household.

Naoya wanted to improve things, but he was at a loss for ideas. He tried discussing the problem with an older colleague at work, but his colleague quickly diagnosed the situation as hopeless.

“When a wife and a mother-in-law are at loggerheads, the husband can’t expect to sort things out. That’s just naive. Here’s what you should do: Hear both women out separately; shut up, listen, and never ever contradict them — that’s just pouring oil on the flames. After you’ve heard what they each have to say, look like you agree, comment on how reasonable their point of view is, and promise to convey their opinion to the other party when the time is right. Then — this is the crucial part — never say a word about it to the other woman. Of course, they’ll hound you, ask you how it went — but you’ll just have to grin and bear it. Divert their anger toward yourself, that’s the only viable solution.”

“Doesn’t sound like much fun,” mumbled Naoya.

“Buck up,” said his colleague, smacking him on the back. “You’ve got yourself a lovely young wife. I’m sure she’s worth the hassle.”

People tended to be more jealous of him for his young wife than sympathetic about the friction between her and his mother.

Naoya had met Maki at a sleazy hostess club. She’d been working there, and he’d come in with a friend.

That night she’d been wearing a pale blue dress that showed off her tanned skin to perfection. She wasn’t classically good-looking, but she had unforgettably lovely eyes. A skilled conversationalist, she listened wide-eyed and with rapt attention to whatever Naoya had to say (which, frankly, wasn’t all that interesting). She was cheerful, her features expressive, and her laugh sounded like cascading marbles.

When it came time to leave, Naoya was already head over heels in love with her. He went back to the club by himself the next day, and the day after. His salary was by no means lavish, but since he lived in the old family home, he had no living expenses and a good amount saved for a man of his age. He believed that Maki was someone well worth squandering money on.

When the friend with whom he had first gone to the club tried to warn him off, Naoya wasn’t interested.

“You need to pull yourself together. What’s a poor salaryman like you doing falling for a professional hostess? She’s out of your league, man. You’ve got to put an end to this.”

Guessing that everyone else would probably say the same thing, he decided to keep his mouth shut and keep going to see Maki discreetly.

Rather unexpectedly, the next warning had come from Maki herself.

“You’ll run through all your savings if you keep coming here like this, Mr. Yanagisawa. You’re coming alone, so I know you can’t be charging it to your firm.”

“Don’t worry about it. I may not look like it, but I’ve got a pretty big nest egg.”

“That may be, but keep this up and you’ll be broke in no time.”

“Coming here’s the only way I get to see you, Maki-chan.”

By Naoya’s modest standards this was a bold declaration. And it worked like a charm.

“Why don’t we go on a date one weekend?” Maki said.

At first, Naoya was sure she was pulling his leg, but then she emailed, asking him to pick a day.

On their first date they went to Tokyo Disneyland. In daylight, Maki looked healthier and less childlike than in the dark of the nightclub. She confessed that at the club she pretended to be three years younger than her real age. She was actually twenty-four. To Naoya, the difference seemed hardly worth lying about, but Maki insisted that, by pretending to be younger, she got better treatment from both the customers and the club’s management.

Naoya couldn’t have cared less one way or the other. He was in heaven just being able to date her.

As their dates became more frequent, Naoya didn’t just want her to be his girlfriend, he wanted her to leave her job at the club.

“I wish you’d just quit,” he came out and said once.

Maki looked uncomfortable.

“The thing is, I can’t do any other kind of work. It’s too late for me to get an office job, and even if I did, I’d definitely earn a whole lot less. I’d never be able to make my rent.”

Naoya had been to her apartment a few times, and she was right — the average office worker would never be able to afford it.

“In that case...”

He paused, then launched into a speech he hadn’t planned on delivering. “Why don’t we get married and you can come and live with me?”

A look of surprise came over Maki’s face; then she gave a shy smile, before bursting into tears and draping her arms around his neck.

Naoya introduced Maki to his mother, Suzue, a few days later. Things went okay. Suzue displayed a certain distaste when she heard about Maki’s nightclub job, but not enough to veto the marriage. As for Maki, she didn’t seem to dislike the idea of living with his mother and helping out at the family china shop. Naoya felt sure that everything was going to be fine.

At first, everything went swimmingly, and Maki enjoyed helping out at the shop. Things, however, took a serious turn for the worse for a most unexpected reason.

A cleaning rag was the cause of it all.

At the end of last year, Naoya got home from work one day to find Suzue sulking in the shop. “Where’s Maki?” he asked.

“No idea,” came the curt reply.

Sensing that something had happened, Naoya went upstairs to their bedroom. There he found Maki in a flood of tears, a cloth clutched in her hands. “What’s wrong?” asked Naoya.

She spread the cloth in front of him.

“Look.”

One glance was all Naoya needed to realize what had happened and to grasp the gravity of the situation.

The rag was made from several pieces of toweling chopped up and sewn together. Naoya immediately recognized the original white towel with the Hello Kitty pattern. Maki was a Hello Kitty fan and an avid collector of the branded merchandise. The towel had been part of her collection. She’d never have turned it into a cleaning rag; Suzue had to be the guilty party.

Naoya went back down to his mother and held the rag in front of her. “Why did you do this?” he demanded angrily.

“Why not? We’ll be needing lots of rags for the big end-of-year cleanup.”

“That’s not what I mean. I’m asking you why you had to use this particular towel. It’s not like we’re short of towels here.”

“Not just any old towel will do. Old, well-used towels make the best cloths. They’re the ones I need.”

“But, Mother, this was Maki’s favorite towel. You know you shouldn’t have used it.”

“We just got some new towels as presents. A new one will be much better for her.”

“That’s not the point. Maki loved this Hello Kitty towel. It meant a lot to her.”

“Oh, will you shut up! What is Hello Kitty anyway? Just some idiotic cartoon cat. What’s an adult woman doing kicking up a fuss about something so infantile?”

Suzue didn’t feel guilty and wasn’t inclined to apologize. Had Maki decided to let bygones be bygones, things might have calmed down. But Maki had no intention of backing down. She told her husband that she wouldn’t address another word to his mother until she apologized. When Naoya relayed this to Suzue, she stayed firm. “She’s free to do whatever she likes,” she declared.

Naoya’s married life, which had been sailing along so smoothly, was suddenly buffeted by storm winds.

2

Maki returned to the china shop with a bag from the supermarket. She was dressed in a T-shirt and ripped jeans. Although the rips were part of the design, Suzue had trouble grasping the concept of deliberately distressed clothing. A couple of weeks ago, the two women quarreled when Suzue criticized the jeans for being shabby.

“It’s boiling outside.” Maki was fanning her face with her hand as she came in. “I started sweating the minute I left the supermarket.”

“You poor thing.” Naoya aimed the electric fan directly at her.

“There’s not a breath of wind,” Maki said, turning her back to the fan and enjoying the play of air on her sweat-beaded neck. “Must be why the famous Yanagisawa wind-chime’s so quiet today. Eh?”

“Oh... uh... yeah.”

Did you really need to say that? Naoya thought. Maki’s remark was aimed squarely at Suzue.

“I think I’ll go sort out the payment slips,” Suzue announced. “Having to rearrange everything on the shelves was a chore, especially when there’s a meeting of the local shop owners’ association tonight. Some people seem to enjoy making work for other people. I just don’t know.”

Maki scowled. Without so much as a glance in her direction, Suzue slipped off her sandals and vanished into the room behind the shop.

“What was that about redoing the shelves?” asked Maki.

“Mother was making a fuss about the sweet fish plates. Something about the white Iga ware being mixed in with the black Bizen ware.”

Maki screwed up her face as if she had bitten into a lemon. “Who cares if they’re white or black? I went to a lot of trouble to make an attractive display.”

“There’s no accounting for tastes.”

“Except that you said I could redo the display in line with my taste.”

“I know, but just for today, why don’t we be nice and let Mom have her way.” Naoya placed his hands together in a beseeching gesture.

Maki pouted back at him.

“That reminds me, what about the air-conditioning? We should get a unit installed before summer arrives in earnest.”

Naoya flinched. Not that again!

“I’m thinking about it.”

“What do you need to think about in this heat? Or have you sided with your mother?”

“No.”

Unable to come up with a better riposte, Naoya was mentally squirming when a man called out, “Hello there.” A customer! Naoya thanked his lucky stars.

“Good afternoon.”

The man wore a pale blue shirt over a black T-shirt. He looked to be in his early thirties.

“You must be Mr. and Mrs. Yanagisawa?” the man said, looking first at Naoya, then at Maki.

“That’s right,” Naoya replied. “How can we help you?”

“Mrs. Maki Yanagisawa?”

“That’s me.”

The man smiled and pulled out a business card.

“This is me. I’d like you to help us.”

Maki’s eyes widened as she read the card. “You’re from the police?”

“What!” exclaimed Naoya.

Maki handed him the card. Their visitor was a detective from Nihonbashi Precinct by the name of Kyoichiro Kaga.

“Do you know a woman named Mineko Mitsui?” Kaga inquired.

“Mitsui? No, never heard of her,” answered Naoya, glancing over at Maki.

After thinking for a moment, Maki asked hesitantly:

“Does she live in Kodenmacho by any chance?”

“She does, she does.” Kaga nodded his head several times. “So, you do know her?”

“She shops here from time to time. Has something happened?”

Kaga’s face stiffened slightly. He looked at each of them in turn.

“I’m sorry to say she’s dead. It happened two days ago.”

Maki gave a shocked gasp. “How, why?” she murmured.

“She was strangled. We’re treating it as murder.”

“Murder!” Naoya exclaimed, then looked back at his wife. Her jaw had dropped and she gaped back at him.

“You said she came here ‘from time to time.’ Can you give me a clearer idea of what you mean? About once a week?”

Maki shook her head.

“More like once a month.”

“When was the last time she was here?”

“Let me think.” Maki consulted the desktop calendar beside the cash register. “Probably about a week ago.”

“Do you remember how she looked?”

“I do. Completely normal.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“I did. Only a little, though.”

“What about? If you don’t mind.”

“What did we talk about?” Maki paused. “She’d come to buy some chopsticks. A present, she said. We didn’t have the set she wanted in stock, so she left empty-handed.”

“Do you know who she planned to give the chopsticks to?”

“It wasn’t really my place to ask.”

“The chopsticks she wanted — are you still out of stock?”

“I ordered them right away, but they haven’t come in yet. I can show you the catalog page.”

Kaga’s eyes gleamed. “Could you?”

“Let’s see now,” said Maki. She pulled out a catalog that was squeezed up against the cash register, opened it, and showed the detective. “It’s this set here.”

Naoya peered over his wife’s shoulder. It was a his-and-hers set for married couples. The chopsticks for the man were in black lacquer, and those of the woman, vermilion. Both were decorated with a cherry blossom motif in real mother-of-pearl.

“Very nice,” said Kaga.

“It’s one of our most popular items. It sells especially well in the marriage season.”

Noticing how authoritative Maki sounded, Naoya reflected that she’d taken to the business like a duck to water. Suzue would have probably made some snarky comment if she’d been there. “Hah! She hasn’t even worked here a year and already she’s a know-it-all.”

“Thank you,” said Kaga, as he handed the catalog back to Maki.

“Detective, could I ask you something?” Naoya interjected. “Does her visiting our store have any connection to her murder?”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Kaga smiled and waved his hand dismissively. “I’m going around to all the stores where Ms. Mitsui was a regular customer. Is there anything else you think I should know, Mrs. Yanagisawa?”

Maki cocked her head thoughtfully, then shook her head. Naoya wondered why the detective was being so persistent.

“Okay. Look, if you do remember anything, call me. My cell phone number’s on the back of my card. No detail’s too small,” Kaga said, his eyes boring into Maki’s face.

“We’ll do that.”

“Thank you very much. Sorry to trouble you.” Kaga shot each of them a look and left the shop.

3

Naoya immediately went out to fetch a newspaper and read up on the murder. Because Naoya only worked in the store on Saturdays, he’d never met Mineko Mitsui.

“She was a good-looking woman. The paper says she was forty-five, but she certainly didn’t look it. I always thought she was in her thirties. To think that she was murdered, it’s just too awful,” said Maki gravely, as they were having dinner. “She was a nice person. She even brought me an ice cream once.”

With Suzue out at the meeting of the local shop owners’ association that night, it was just the two of them for dinner. Naoya was enjoying the uncharacteristically peaceful atmosphere, and his beer tasted better than it had in months.

“I don’t really get why the detective came to our store.” Naoya looked puzzled.

“He told us why. He’s visiting all the stores that Ms. Mitsui went to regularly.”

“I know. The point is, how did he know that she shopped here? Perhaps she mentioned to someone that she was here last week, although the article said that she lived alone.”

“Maybe the police found a receipt from here.”

“From when? You said she didn’t actually buy anything last week.”

Maki frowned, then shrugged her shoulders as if sloughing off the whole business.

“Then I don’t know the answer. Anyway, what does it matter? It’s nothing to do with us.”

“I know, but still...” Naoya was chasing down a piece of pickled daikon radish with a slug of beer when a thought suddenly came to him. “That detective — he knew your name.”

“What?”

“He asked for Maki Yanagisawa. I’m sure he did.”

“Did he?”

“Yes, he did. Don’t you think that’s a bit odd? I mean, if he’s just traipsing around a load of different stores, he’d have no reason to know your first name. It’s definitely odd.”

“Did he really say my name...?” Maki began clearing the empty dishes off the table.

“I wonder how he knew? Do you think there was something with your name on it in the murdered woman’s apartment?”

“You can ask keep asking till the cows come home. I’ve no idea.”

Naoya had just crossed his arms over his chest, when a voice sang out, “It’s me. I’m home.” Suzue was back.

Discussing the murder was now off the menu. Maki vanished into the kitchen where she started busily washing the dishes.

“The meeting was a nightmare! The old boys were jabbering on, and I just couldn’t get away.” Suzue was massaging her shoulders as she came into the room. “They were talking about something called ‘home pages.’ Haven’t the foggiest what that means! To be honest, I don’t think the old boys had much of an idea themselves.”

“You must be tired. Want some dinner?”

“I had something there,” she said, sitting down at the table. “But maybe I’ll have a little ochazuke rice.” She glared disapprovingly at the pickled daikon radish. “What’s this?”

“Maki made it. It’s pretty good.”

“Oh, please. She should know that I have problems with my teeth. The woman seems to go out of her way to make things like this, when she knows perfectly well that I can’t cope with anything hard.”

“Mother!”

Naoya glowered at Suzue, who was nonchalantly brewing some green tea.

Maki emerged from the kitchen and silently removed the dish of pickled radish. She put it in the refrigerator and left the room, still without saying a word. Hearing her charge noisily up the stairs, Naoya heaved a weary sigh.

Suzue picked up the newspaper from the table.

“What’s this thing doing here? Honestly, that girl seems to think she’s above doing any proper tidying up.”

“You’re talking nonsense, Mother. I went out and got the paper for a reason. There was something I wanted to find out about. Have you heard anything about what happened over in Kodenmacho?”

“Kodenmacho? No.”

Suzue listened intently as Naoya gave her an account of the detective’s visit. He was careful not to mention the fact that the detective knew Maki’s name; that would only be asking for trouble.

“Now that you mention it, the proprietor of Kisamiya said that a detective had come around his place, too.”

Kisamiya was a cutlery shop with a history stretching back to the Edo period. It sold such things as knives and shears, all handmade by in-house craftsmen. It also offered a knife-sharpening service.

“The woman went to Kisamiya not long before her murder. What was it he said she’d bought? Oh yes, kitchen scissors.”

“Kitchen scissors, eh? Is that important?”

‘Well, the proprietor said the detective wouldn’t stop asking him questions. Was the woman a regular customer? Did she say why she needed the scissors? Stuff like that.”

“Oh yeah? And what did he say?”

“That he couldn’t remember having seen her before. As to why she bought the scissors, that’s not something he would ever ask a customer.”

“It’s certainly an odd question.”

“But the detective has a point. You can pick up a pair of cheap kitchen scissors anywhere. Normally the people who buy the handmade ones at Kisamiya have a very specific purpose in mind. According to the owner, she didn’t seem to fit the mold.”

“Interesting...”

What was the significance of Mineko Mitsui buying a pair of kitchen scissors? Naoya couldn’t see any link to the murder, but the police must have a reason for investigating the matter.

“You said the murdered woman was forty-five?” said Suzue, sipping her tea. “Poor thing. Still so young. Anything can happen at any time. You’ve just got to enjoy life while you can.”

“You seem to be doing a good job in that department, Mother,” Naoya said. “You’re leaving next week on that trip with your pals from the ballad-singing group, right? You’re going to Ise?”

“Yes, we’re going to the Ise Grand Shrine and to Shima peninsula. It’s the Shima peninsula part I’m looking forward to most. It’s famous for its abalone.”

“Great.”

Suzue seemed to be far more eager to discuss her upcoming trip than the murder case. After she finished her tea, Naoya left the table. If he spent too much time with his mother, Maki would only give him a hard time when he got upstairs.

4

Naoya worked for a large construction company. His main responsibility was providing after-sales service to residential home buyers. Having completed the ninety-day post-sale inspection of a detached house in Toyocho, he decided to swing by the family home, which was on his way back to the office. Parking his little van on Ningyocho Boulevard, he peered into the shop. Suzue was on the phone, but there was no sign of Maki.

“Have you got a brochure? Could you mail me one? What sort of product line do you have?... What’s that? Japanese spiny lobster? You’ve got some interesting things in stock. Anything else? Matsusaka beef?... What? Oh, I see. Yes, I’d buy that in a jiffy. You’ve been very helpful. Thank you.”

Suzue didn’t notice Naoya coming in, and she jumped when she hung up the phone and turned around.

“What are you doing here at this time of day?”

“I was passing by, so thought I’d drop in. Did that call have something to do with your trip?”

“In a way...”

“Uhm, what about...?”

“She’s at the hairdresser, if that’s what you’re about to ask. Heaven only knows what color she’ll dye her hair this time.”

Suzue’s mouth turned down at the corners.

Naoya was mystified at how the two women managed to communicate when he was away. Given that they didn’t actually talk to one other, how could Suzue have possibly known where Maki had gone?

“Oh, good afternoon.” Suzue smiled warmly to someone behind Naoya.

Turning around, he saw the detective from the day before walking in to the shop. He was holding a small paper bag.

“Thanks for your help yesterday, Mr. Yanagisawa.”

“Detective Kaga, was it?”

“That’s right. Well remembered.”

Suzue cast an inquiring glance at Naoya.

“This gentleman is the policeman who spoke to Maki and me yesterday,” he explained.

“Oh, I heard you visited the folks at Kisamiya, too.” Suzue looked at the detective.

“Word travels fast, eh. That should make my job easier. Did the people at Kisamiya tell you that the murder victim bought a pair of kitchen scissors there?”

“Yes, they did. Is that important?”

Kaga smiled broadly, paused a moment, then asked, “Do you have any kitchen scissors here?”

“What!” exclaimed Suzue and Naoya in unison.

“We have a pair, yes,” Suzue said.

“Could you show them to me, if it’s not too much trouble?”

“Certainly, but may I ask why?”

Kaga scratched his head sheepishly.

“A precinct detective like me has to do all sorts of little jobs involving things that may or may not have any significance. In this particular case, I’m looking into the question of kitchen scissors. I therefore need to get everybody even vaguely connected to the case to show me their scissors. I know it’s a bore. Sorry.”

Kaga had couched his request in such humble terms that he won Suzue over. “Just wait a minute.” She disappeared into the back of the shop.

“Tough gig, huh?” ventured Naoya.

“Tell me about it.” Kaga gave a rueful grin.

Suzue came back carrying a pair of kitchen scissors.

“They’re completely plain, ordinary scissors. Nothing like the handcrafted ones they sell at Kisamiya,” Suzue said, holding them out to the detective.

“They’re on the new side. Did you get them recently?”

“A couple of years ago, I think. They don’t get a whole lot of wear and tear.”

“Thanks,” said Kaga, returning the scissors to Suzue.

“And your wife?”

“She’s out,” replied Naoya. “At the hairdresser’s.”

“I see. Oh yes, one more thing. Do you like rice crackers?” Kaga pulled a packet of rice crackers out of the bag in his hand and proffered them to Suzue. “Here, take these. I actually bought them a couple of days ago, I’m afraid.”

“Are they from the shop over in Amazake Alley? I used to love their crackers, but my teeth have been acting up recently...” Suzue looked at Naoya. “However, I’m sure the younger generation will be happy to step into the breach. Thank you very much.”

“Yes, you’ve got to be careful with your teeth. Thank you for your help, and I’ll be on my way.”

Kaga nodded at the two, then turned and left the store. Naoya went after him.

“Excuse me, Detective, but something’s been bugging me since yesterday.”

“Oh yes?” Kaga stroked his chin. “Shall we go and get something cold to drink?”

The two men went to a local coffee shop and settled themselves at a table on the second floor that overlooked the street.

Without beating about the bush, Naoya asked Kaga how he knew his wife’s first name. Kaga thumped the table in exasperation, though his expression remained cheerful.

“You’re right. I did use your wife’s first name. I didn’t think she was involved. I was careless.”

“What do you mean?” Naoya leaned in toward Kaga. “Is Maki involved somehow? Now you come around, asking to see our kitchen scissors — there’s something off about this. Tell me what’s going on.”

As Naoya became increasingly excited, Kaga made soothing gestures with his hands.

“It’s all right. It’s nothing important. I can understand your concern, so let me explain. It all goes back to a pair of kitchen scissors we found in the victim’s apartment.”

“What, more kitchen scissors?”

“Yes, but hers were brand-new and still wrapped in Kisamiya paper. That was what made us curious. The victim already had another pair of kitchen scissors in her apartment, which weren’t that old. So why buy a new pair? For a present, perhaps? The fact that the price tag was left on suggests otherwise. Normally, when you’re giving someone something, you take the tag off.

“At the same time, we found something interesting in the email folder on the victim’s computer. Examining the time stamps on her emails, we discovered she’d sent one just before she was killed.” Kaga pulled out his notebook. “I can tell you the exact words. ‘I bought them. They cost me 6,300 yen. I’ll bring them around to the store soon.’ I didn’t make the connection with the kitchen scissors right away. I mean, you wouldn’t normally think of scissors costing so much! But when I went to Kisamiya, I saw that was what their kitchen scissors cost: 6,300 yen. I took another look to see whom the mail was addressed to, and it was—”

“Maki Yanagisawa.”

“Precisely,” Kaga confirmed. “We also found a receipt from Yanagisawa’s in the victim’s apartment, so it was reasonable to assume that your wife or your mother was the intended recipient. I should point out that the mail never actually reached your wife. It looks as though her cell phone isn’t set up to receive email, only texts. My guess is that this was the first time the victim had tried emailing your wife. I think the two of them only got to know each other recently.”

“You think that my Maki asked this Mitsui woman to buy her a pair of scissors?”

“That was what I thought when I came to see you yesterday. Your wife, however, didn’t mention it at all. That’s what I meant when I said I didn’t think she was involved.”

“Maybe you’d be better off asking her directly.”

Kaga chuckled meaningfully and took a sip of his iced coffee.

“A policeman never likes to show his hand. If we think someone’s concealing something, we hang back to see how things play out. It’s quite possible your wife had a valid reason for not saying anything — a family issue or something.”

At the words “family issue,” a light went on in Naoya’s head. “Ah!” he exclaimed.

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Naoya, sucking up his iced tea through a straw.

“What I can’t quite figure out is why your wife needed to ask Ms. Mitsui to buy the scissors for her. Kisamiya is close to your shop, so she can swing by herself easily enough. There’s something else: why did she even need new kitchen scissors in the first place? Your mother showed me the ones you have now, and they look fine. I was hoping your wife would provide me with an explanation. But maybe that explanation involved something she felt uncomfortable with you hearing.”

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“Got any ideas?”

Kaga’s eyes bored into Naoya. Naoya sighed.

“Something occurred to me just now. I’m going to have to air some of the family’s dirty laundry, but I guess that’s better than leaving you with your suspicions. It’s a bit squalid, but there’s some family drama going on right now.”

Naoya proceeded to tell a rather startled-looking Kaga about the feud between his wife and his mother. He was relieved to have someone to confide in.

“The wife and the mother-in-law at loggerheads. That’s a bit of a cliché. What do you think it’s got to do with the kitchen scissors?”

“Maybe you’re lucky enough not to have firsthand experience, Detective, but women can be stubborn creatures. My wife and my mother both cook, but they don’t want to use the same utensils. The long and the short of it is that we have two of almost everything in the kitchen — one for my missus and one for my mother.”

“I see.” Kaga nodded sagely. “That would explain why your wife was planning to get another pair of kitchen scissors for her exclusive use.”

“That’s my interpretation. I guess she asked a third party to get them for her so that my mother and I wouldn’t know what she was up to. The staff at Kisamiya all know Maki, so she was probably worried that they would let it slip to my mother.”

“Thanks for letting me know. They’re really at each other’s throats, are they?”

“It’s a nightmare,” said Naoya, his lips twisting in distaste. “My mother will be away next week, so I’m looking forward to a little peace and quiet.”

“She’s going away? Where to?”

“Ise and the Shima peninsula. She’s excited about the abalone she’ll be able to eat there. Of course, that just made Maki fly off the handle. ‘How come no one’s taking me anywhere?’”

“Oh yes, the abalone...,” murmured Kaga, gazing into the middle distance.

5

Two days later, Naoya returned from work in the evening to find a battle under way.

The two women weren’t going at it like in the old days. Suzue was sitting stony-faced at the low dining table in the living room watching TV, while Maki was upstairs crying in the bedroom.

“What on earth’s going on?” Naoya asked his wife.

“I don’t know what I did wrong this time. I just wanted to tidy up,” Maki sniveled. “I found this letter, and your mother flew completely off the handle.”

Maki explained that she was tidying up the sewing basket when she discovered a letter addressed to a Mrs. Suzue Yanagisawa. She had only looked at the envelope when Suzue started yelling at her about reading other people’s mail.

“You didn’t open the letter?”

“No. Why would I do that?”

God, what a mess! thought Naoya, as he went back downstairs. Suzue was looking as crotchety as ever.

“Mother, why get so worked up about Maki touching a letter addressed to you? It’s ridiculous.”

Suzue glared at him.

“It’s straightforward enough: we may be family, but that doesn’t mean privacy has to go out the window.”

“Maki didn’t read the letter or even open it.”

“That’s not the point. She should just keep her silly hands off.”

“She didn’t mean any harm. She just came across it in the sewing basket. That’s all.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t like. Besides, she never does any sewing anyway.”

“She was going to sew my shirt buttons back on.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. She can’t sew worth a damn.”

“She’s been practicing, and she’s pretty good now. The whole thing’s your fault. I mean, what are you doing sticking letters in a place like that anyway?”

Naoya’s eye was caught by a gray envelope on the table.

“Is that what all the fuss is about?”

Naoya was reaching for the letter when Suzue snatched it away.

“You may be my son, but that doesn’t give you the right. Like I said, there is such a thing as privacy.”

“If you’re so desperate to keep your letters secret, you should find a better hiding place for them.”

“Don’t try and make out that I’ve got anything to be ashamed of. That’s not what this is about. It’s not me who’s in the wrong.”

Suzue got up, scuttled into her bedroom, and pulled the door shut with a bang.

Naoya sighed. Although he was hungry, now was hardly the time to start asking anyone to make him dinner. He scratched his head. Maybe a simple bowl of ochazuke rice will do, he thought.

6

Suzue was due to leave on her trip the next day. When Naoya came out of the subway station that evening, he heard someone calling his name. He turned to see Detective Kaga hurrying after him.

“This is a stroke of luck. I was about to come around to see you.”

“Now? Again?”

“It’s nothing serious; just something I thought might put your mind at rest. Do you have a moment?”

“Right now?”

“We could pop in there, seeing as it’s close by. It’ll be easy enough.” Kaga strode off without giving Naoya the time to reply.

Kaga led Naoya to Kisamiya. The shop’s glass doors were shut, but the lights were still on. The gray-haired owner, who was standing behind a low glass display case, broke into a warm smile when Kaga pushed his way through the door.

“Hard at it as usual, eh, Detective? Oh, hello there, Naoya.”

“Evening,” Naoya replied. He had known the old man his whole life.

Kisamiya was a small store. An L-shaped glass display case took up most of the space. Inside it was row upon row of sharp-looking cutlery gleaming like precious artifacts.

There were more glass-fronted display cases around the walls. These contained traditional cutlery from the Edo period rather than regular products for sale. The shop was like a miniature knife museum.

“Hi, boss,” said Kaga. “Got that thing for me?”

The storeowner grinned and extracted a pair of scissors from a case immediately behind him. They were a little under ten centimeters long, with blades that had blunt, rounded ends.

“What are those?” Naoya asked.

“The scissors your wife wanted to get. They’re not actually kitchen scissors. Ms. Mitsui, the murdered woman, made a mistake and bought the wrong kind.”

“What do you mean?” Naoya frowned.

“What kind of scissors are these, boss?”

The Kisamiya proprietor crossed his arms self-importantly over his chest.

“They don’t really have a specific name. We usually refer to them as food scissors.”

“Food scissors?” Naoya cocked his head to one side.

“That’s what your wife probably asked for. My guess is that Ms. Mitsui mistakenly assumed that food scissors and kitchen scissors were the same thing.” Kaga said.

“Plenty of people make that mistake.” The old storeowner beamed.

“So what are these scissors for?” Naoya looked at him inquiringly.

“You use them at meals to deal with hard and chewy food. Squid, octopus — things like that.”

“Don’t forget abalone,” interjected Kaga.

Naoya gasped.

“That’s right.” Kaga nodded and smiled. “Your mother has problems with her teeth, doesn’t she? But she’s still looking forward to eating lots of abalone on her upcoming trip. That’s why your wife wanted to give her these food scissors.”

“I can’t believe it...”

“A woman came in here yesterday to buy a pair of these food scissors. I had asked the boss here to call me if any of his customers tried to buy a pair, so I rushed right over. Luckily, I got here in time to have a word with that particular customer,” Kaga explained.

“The customer — as I’d expected — was a friend of your wife’s. Your wife had asked her to buy the food scissors for her. Your mother’s trip is tomorrow, so your wife must have been panicking. I imagine her friend has given your wife the scissors by now.”

“Maki... for my mother...?”

“Women are complicated creatures, Mr. Yanagisawa. They can appear to be at each other’s throats, when their real feelings are quite the opposite. Or vice versa. For me as a detective, sometimes I think that understanding the psychology of people is my hardest challenge.”

“Did you bring me here to share that pearl of wisdom?”

“Sorry, I’ve overstepped my boundaries.”

Naoya shook his head.

“No, I’m happy to find out what was going on. It’s a relief. What should I say to Maki?”

“My advice would be to pretend not to know anything about it. As for the abalone...” Kaga waggled his index finger. “I bet that what your mother’s most looking forward to is abalone steak, which is a local delicacy. Unlike raw abalone, it’s extremely soft. Okay even for people with bad teeth.”

“Oh, really.”

“Best to keep that a secret from your wife, too,” said Kaga, touching a finger to his lips.

The family store was already closed by the time Naoya got home. Maki was busy in the kitchen putting the final touches to dinner, while Suzue was sitting at the low table, sorting through a bunch of payment slips.

“I’m back,” Naoya sang out.

“Evening,” replied Suzue. Maki didn’t even bother to turn around. Had they had yet another quarrel? Naoya was worried. That would only make it harder for Maki to give the food scissors to his mother.

As he headed for the stairs, to go up and change out of his suit, he noticed an overnight bag in the hallway. Probably Suzue’s luggage, he thought.

Curious to see if Maki had presented the scissors to his mother, Naoya discreetly unzipped the bag. It contained a toiletry bag and clothes. There wasn’t, however, any sign of food scissors. Maki hadn’t yet given them to her, then.

As Naoya was zipping the bag shut, he noticed an envelope in one of its inside pockets. It had to be the letter Suzue had originally hidden in the sewing basket. Curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled it out.

The envelope contained a brochure from an Iseshima gift shop. As he flicked through it, Naoya couldn’t suppress a smile when he came across a page entitled “Limited Edition Iseshima Hello Kitty Products.” Among the goods pictured were an Iseshima Hello Kitty mascot and a Hello Kitty — themed Matsusaka black-haired cow mobile phone strap.

That detective fellow was right, Naoya thought. Perhaps he didn’t need to worry. In their own peculiar way, the two women were already on the same wavelength.