Newcomer

1

Mineko Mitsui was holding a teacup and smiling. She was dressed casually in a T-shirt and jeans, and her wavy hair was pulled back and tied loosely.

“Thank goodness,” Tamiko said. “I really thought you were dead.”

Mineko smiled and said nothing.

A chime sounded. That was the sound of the doorbell. Tamiko swiveled around to look at the door of her apartment. It was wide open, and someone was just slipping out.

It’s Mineko, she thought. She was right there just a moment ago, and now she’s gone. I must go after her. Tamiko was in a panic, but her body refused to move. Although she tried to get up, her legs were frozen.

The chime sounded a second time. Must help Mineko, thought Tamiko. Mustn’t let her leave like this. Got to bring her back.

Tamiko could feel something heavy pressing on her ankles. That was what was immobilizing her. She looked down. There was someone lying on her feet. It was Mineko, facedown on the floor. Her head began to turn. Her face would be visible any second now—

Tamiko woke up with a violent start. She was sitting in front of her computer. On the screen was a half-written email, of which the last paragraph was a meaningless jumble of random letters.

She must have dozed off. She was drenched in cold sweat, and her heart was pounding.

The door chime sounded for a third time. That, at least, seemed to be real. Tamiko got to her feet, tottered over to the intercom on the wall.

“Yes?” she said.

The response was instantaneous. “I’m from Nihonbashi Precinct. Could I come up for a quick word?”

It took Tamiko a second or two to figure out that the man was from the police. Mineko’s murder was being investigated out of Nihonbashi Police Station.

“Ms. Yoshioka? Tamiko Yoshioka?” The policeman was calling her name.

“Sorry... uh... yes. Come on up.”

Tamiko pressed the button to release the downstairs door autolock and replaced the handset on the wall.

Going back to her computer, she plunked herself into the chair. A mug about one-third full of milk tea sat on the desk. She’d been drinking it before she fell asleep. She raised the mug to her lips. It was stone cold.

She sighed as she thought back to her dream. What remained with her was a vague image of Mineko smiling. Was it fanciful to think that her friend was trying to tell her something? Although Tamiko enjoyed discussing the spirit world, in her heart of hearts she didn’t really believe in ghosts.

She put her elbows on the desk and pressed her forehead into her palms. She had a dull headache that had persisted for days. She was sure it was due to lack of sleep. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since the murder. The best she’d managed was a brief catnap. If she tried to sleep properly, the ghastly memories would come crowding in, making sleep impossible.

The apartment doorbell rang. Tamiko dragged herself over to the entrance and peered through the peephole.

A man stood in the passageway outside. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt over a T-shirt and carrying a shopping bag in one hand. Although he didn’t look like anyone’s idea of a proper policeman, Tamiko wasn’t suspicious. They’d met before, though she couldn’t recall his name. She was pretty sure he’d given her his business card, but she’d mislaid the thing.

She unlocked the door and opened up. The detective smiled and gave a little bow.

“Sorry to disturb you again.”

Tamiko looked at him quizzically.

“What do you want? A whole series of detectives have already questioned me.”

When Tamiko had called the police, this detective had been first on the scene.

He made a gesture of apology.

“I know this is uncomfortable. New facts have come to light in the investigation. When we learn something new, we have to re-interview everyone associated with the case. You’re helping us solve the crime, and we really appreciate your cooperation.”

Tamiko sighed.

“What do you want to ask me?”

The detective’s name suddenly came back to Tamiko. It was Kaga. He had a gentle way of speaking that she had found reassuring.

“This could take a while, so perhaps it would be better if we went somewhere we can sit down... Oh, I brought you these. They’re supposed to be very nice.” Kaga held out the paper bag. It looked like some sort of sweet.

“That’s for me?”

“Yes. It’s a passion fruit and sweet almond pastry... or I think that’s what it is. Don’t you like sweet things?”

“No, I do...”

“Well, go ahead and take it. If you put it in the refrigerator, it will keep for a while.”

“Well, thank you.” Tamiko took the bag from him. Cold was seeping out of the box at the bottom of it. They must have used dry ice.

I might be able to eat something like this, she thought. Since the murder, she hadn’t eaten properly. Her appetite was simply gone.

“You know that café on the far side of the street?” said Kaga. “I’ll wait for you there. This won’t take long, I promise.”

Tamiko shook her head and pushed the door wide open.

“If we’re just going to talk, here’s as good as anywhere.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“And I don’t want to get changed. Plus, if we go out, I’ll have to put on makeup.”

Tamiko was wearing a terry-cloth bathrobe. Because she worked from home, she always dressed like that. “I’m too old to worry about being alone with a strange man. Come on in. Sorry about the mess.”

Kaga looked uncertain. “All right, then,” he said and stepped in.

The apartment consisted of a living room, a kitchen area, and a separate bedroom. The living room contained a couple of armchairs and a coffee table, with the computer desk right at the far end. Tamiko didn’t have a dining table.

After showing Kaga to one of the armchairs, Tamiko went over to the kitchen. She poured a couple of glasses of barley tea and brought them over to the table.

“Thank you.” Kaga inclined his head slightly.

“Are you starting to come to terms with what happened?” he asked, sipping his tea. His gaze traveled between Tamiko and the computer.

“I still can’t get my head around it. Sometimes I hope it’s all just a bad dream. It’s real, though, isn’t it? Every time I realize that, I get depressed all over again. I’ve got to learn to accept it... Maybe that is what I’m doing. I mean, I’m certainly not doing anything else.” Tamiko gave a wan smile.

“The funeral was yesterday. Did you go?”

Tamiko nodded feebly.

“Yes, I went to offer incense. I almost didn’t, though. I felt ashamed in front of her family, but even worse, I didn’t know how to apologize to Mineko herself. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her portrait up on the altar.”

Kaga frowned.

“You’ve no reason to feel like that. What happened isn’t your fault. The only guilty party is the perpetrator: the person who killed Mineko Mitsui.”

“Yes, but—” Tamiko broke off and lowered her eyes. She could feel emotion welling up again.

“I know it’s a bother, but I’d like to run through the details again,” Kaga said. “You originally arranged to go to Ms. Mitsui’s apartment at seven p.m. At about half past six, you called her and postponed the appointment until eight. Correct so far?”

Tamiko sighed heavily. Detectives really don’t know when enough’s enough, she thought. How many times have they already made me go through this?

“That’s right. I needed to see someone else at seven, so I postponed.”

Kaga flipped open his notebook.

“The person you were meeting was a certain Mr. Koji Tachibana, an Englishman of Japanese origin. The two of you met at Cortesia, a jewelry store in Ginza. You then left the store at seven thirty, went straight to Ms. Mitsui’s building, and discovered her body in her apartment. Is there anything you need to correct so far?”

“No. That’s exactly what happened.”

Tamiko knew that the police were asking around, trying to corroborate her statement. Koji had been visited by a detective from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police.

“I didn’t tell them why we got together, but they looked like they were just bursting to ask,” Koji had declared with a hint of conspiratorial enjoyment on the phone. When Tamiko said nothing, he realized how tactless he’d been and apologized. Koji had been born in Japan and spoke fluent Japanese. He had later acquired English citizenship after his father moved to the UK for work.

“Did anybody know that you and Ms. Mitsui had arranged to see each other that evening?” asked Kaga.

“The only person I told was Mr. Tachibana.”

Kaga nodded and let his eyes wander around the room.

“That’s your cell phone there?”

“That’s right.”

“Could I have a look?”

“If you must.”

Tamiko picked up the cell phone and handed it to Kaga.

Kaga thanked her. Tamiko noticed that he had slipped on a pair of white gloves before he took it from her.

The cell phone was red and accessorized with a cherry-blossom-pattern strap. It was a couple of years old, and Tamiko had been thinking about switching to a newer model.

Kaga thanked her and returned the phone.

“Uhm, what are you...?”

“This may seem an odd question, but do you know if any of Ms. Mitsui’s friends or acquaintances recently mislaid their cell phone? It could be a man or a woman. Doesn’t matter.”

“Someone losing a cell phone? I didn’t hear anything about it.”

“I see,” murmured Kaga, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Why does it matter? What’s the big deal about someone mislaying a cell phone?”

Sunk in thought, Kaga did not immediately reply. Must be a secret he’s not at liberty to reveal to ordinary members of the public, Tamiko was thinking, when the detective finally spoke up.

“Someone called her from a pay phone.”

“Huh?”

“Somebody called Ms. Mitsui from a pay phone. The call was made at six forty-five. That’s only a short time before the murder occurred. Initially, we had absolutely no idea who the caller was, but recent evidence suggests that it was someone quite close to Ms. Mitsui. Someone overheard Ms. Mitsui’s end of the conversation, and she was speaking in a very informal, friendly manner. From what Ms. Mitsui said on the phone, we think it’s reasonable to assume that the other party had lost or mislaid their cell phone.”

Kaga fixed his eyes on Tamiko. “So... any idea who it could be?”

“No, I don’t. Besides, what does it matter?”

“We think it highly likely that the person who mislaid their cell phone is the murderer. The crime scene strongly suggests that Ms. Mitsui knew the murderer and thus let the murderer into her apartment. It is likely that the murderer contacted her to let her know they were coming. Your original appointment with Ms. Mitsui was set for seven o’clock. If that appointment hadn’t changed, Ms. Mitsui might have told the murderer not to come over that evening. That’s not what she did: she let the murderer into her apartment. She must have done so only after you pushed your appointment back one hour.”

Having delivered this speech in a single, rapid burst, Kaga waved his hand in a deprecating gesture when he saw Tamiko’s reaction to it. “I’m in no way criticizing you. Please don’t get the wrong idea.”

“I’m all too aware of the role that my postponing our appointment played in her murder.” Tamiko could feel the muscles of her face stiffening. “Go on.”

Kaga cleared his throat.

“That means that the murderer telephoned Ms. Mitsui after you called her. When we examined the record of incoming calls, the only call after yours was the one from the pay phone.”

Tamiko finally saw where Kaga was going with this.

“I understand your theory, but I can’t think of anyone.”

“Think very carefully. We have grounds for believing that this person was very close to Ms. Mitsui. There’s a good chance that she mentioned his or her name to you on multiple occasions.”

Kaga’s tone was forceful.

“How can you be so sure?” said Tamiko, looking at the detective. “Sometimes I don’t use the proper forms of polite Japanese, even when I’m talking to someone I hardly know.”

“We’ve got more evidence than just Ms. Mitsui’s tone on the telephone,” countered Kaga. “As I said, the call was made at six forty-five p.m. Let’s assume that the person who made the call — the owner of the mislaid cell phone — asked Ms. Mitsui if they could drop in on her that evening. Given that Ms. Mitsui was due to meet you at eight, you’d expect her to turn them down due to lack of time. But she didn’t. Why do you think that was?”

Tamiko cocked her head and exhaled through her teeth.

“I can think of one possibility: that the person who made that call did so from somewhere very close to Ms. Mitsui’s building. You can probably guess where I’m going with this?”

Kaga’s habit of throwing out sudden questions kept Tamiko off balance, but it was clear enough what he was hinting at.

“The owner of the cell phone knew where she lived?”

“Precisely,” Kaga agreed, with a satisfied look on his face. “Not even Ms. Mitsui’s ex-husband or son knew where she lived. You yourself told me that you didn’t know why she’d moved to Kodenmacho.”

“She didn’t tell me. Just said something vague about ‘inspiration.’”

“So Ms. Mitsui had no special connection with the Kodenmacho area. It’s difficult to believe that the murderer just happened to be in the neighborhood. No, we’re justified in assuming that the murderer knew that she lived there. That leaves us with a person who knows the address of Ms. Mitsui’s apartment and whom she is happy to have drop in on extremely short notice. Surely that suggests that victim and murderer knew each other very well indeed?”

The detective’s argument made good sense.

“I understand your theory and why you should want to talk to me. Off the top of my head, though, I can’t think of anyone. Can you give me some time to think about it?”

“Of course I can. Take all the time you need. Do you still have my card?”

Noticing the uncomfortable expression on Tamiko’s face, Kaga pulled out another card and placed it on the coffee table.

“Give me a call if you think of anything,” he said, getting to his feet.

Tamiko saw Kaga to the front door. He had his hand on the doorknob, when he turned to face her.

“As I said, you mustn’t blame yourself for what happened. It’s thanks to you that the crime was discovered so soon and that we’re already developing a time line for the murder.”

Tamiko knew that Kaga was being sincere and wasn’t just trying to be nice. Nonetheless, she struggled to take his comments at face value. Averting her eyes, she gently shook her head.

“Thanks for all your help,” said the detective and went on his way.

2

Mineko Mitsui was one of a small band of friends from Tamiko’s college days. There used to be more of them, but whenever one of them got married or had children, they tended to drift away. Tamiko sometimes wondered if her married friends stayed in touch with one another while excluding her because she was single.

Mineko was one of the first to get married. She and Tamiko fell out of touch when Mineko’s every waking minute was taken up with caring for her son, but the fact that she’d become a mother at such a young age meant that she was over and done with child-rearing that much earlier. By the time her son was in the final years of elementary school, Tamiko was the recipient of frequent phone calls from Mineko. Mostly she just wanted to grumble about how her life wasn’t much fun. Once, when Tamiko told Mineko she had it easy compared to most people, Mineko flew off the handle. “You can’t begin to know how I feel,” she’d protested. On another occasion, she burst into tears, complaining that life didn’t seem worth living anymore. Her husband was indifferent to his family, apparently, and the two of them had fallen thoroughly out of love.

Mineko was deeply jealous of Tamiko. Not only did she have a job, but she was a translator. At college Mineko had dreamed of working as a translator of folktales and fairy stories.

Tamiko suggested to Mineko that she give it a whirl. She had explained that translation was the sort of job you could fit around your housework, whenever you had a minute or two to spare.

Mineko was convinced that it wasn’t that simple. Her husband didn’t like the idea of his wife working, and she was afraid that he wouldn’t let her even do the occasional odd job.

Tamiko knew better than to get in the middle of a dispute between a married couple. The best she could do, she decided, was give Mineko a shoulder to cry on.

Recently, though, circumstances had changed. When her only son left home, Mineko had started thinking seriously about leaving her husband. The only problem was how to support herself.

“How about you helping me out?” Tamiko had proposed spontaneously. She needed someone to help out after her excellent assistant quit.

Mineko lacked self-confidence but acquitted herself well on the translations that Tamiko gave her as a test.

Armed with a newfound belief in her ability to earn a living, Mineko made up her mind and asked her husband for a divorce. Somewhat to her surprise, he readily agreed. The settlement he offered Mineko was very modest, in light of his high net worth. Tamiko told her to stick to her guns and demand more, but Mineko only laughed. “I don’t care,” she said. “Getting my freedom is way more important than getting his money.”

Tamiko started sending translation jobs to Mineko almost as soon as she moved out. Tamiko planned to keep an eye on her friend until she was capable of standing on her own two feet as a translator, something that would take some time. For her part, Tamiko was very happy to be working with a friend.

After the divorce went through, Mineko lived in the apartment of another friend of hers in Kamata, until a couple of months ago when she moved to Kodenmacho near Nihonbashi. Tamiko still had no idea why she was so set on that particular neighborhood. Although Mineko claimed it was for “inspiration,” Tamiko felt certain that there was something else behind her choice. Mineko’s face always glowed when the move came up in conversation. There was obviously something about the area that excited her. Sure that Mineko would eventually confide in her, Tamiko never pressed for an answer.

Everything was going well until something unexpected occurred, something that threatened to undermine their friendship. This time it came not from Mineko’s side but Tamiko’s.

Tamiko had first met Koji Tachibana about a year ago. Along with some publishing friends of hers, she’d gone to look at the nighttime cherry blossoms near the Imperial Palace. An editor she knew had brought Koji along. He was single and three years younger than Tamiko. A videographer, he’d moved to Japan a couple of years ago.

The two of them had soon begun seeing a lot of each other, getting closer and closer. Neither of them had said anything about living together or getting married. They both enjoyed a similar lifestyle — working hard at home and only getting together when they wanted to relax.

Koji, though, had recently come out with an unexpected proposal: He planned to move back to London — and wanted Tamiko to come with him as his wife.

Puzzlement, dismay, and confusion characterized Tamiko’s initial response, but as this welter of emotions receded, excitement and joy remained.

She had neither aging parents to care for nor long-term contracts to fulfill. She was free to drop everything and take off with Koji. Just one thing weighed on her mind: Mineko.

Mineko had embarked on her new life because of Tamiko’s promise to take care of her until she was established as a translator. She couldn’t not feel guilty about letting her friend down.

Still, it never occurred to Tamiko to turn Koji down. She couldn’t imagine life without him.

After considerable soul-searching, Tamiko made up her mind to talk things through with her friend. She was certain that Mineko would see things from her point of view.

No such luck. The more Tamiko spoke, the tenser the expression on Mineko’s face became.

“I can’t believe it. I only got divorced because you said you’d help me out...,” she said bitterly.

Tamiko sympathized. If someone had done the same thing to her, she’d have been indignant, too. Though perhaps insecurity was the problem, more than indignation.

The two women went their separate ways after this uncomfortable exchange. That was three weeks ago. And they were due to meet again for the first time on that day — June 10.

Tamiko had changed the original seven o’clock appointment after Koji had called her and insisted on seeing her right away. He was waiting in Ginza, he said.

When Tamiko got there, Koji had taken her straight to a jewelry shop. She was led to a seating area at the back, and a ring with the most brilliant diamond was produced for her inspection.

“Say you like it, and I’ll sign for it,” Koji said. Despite her age, Tamiko had burst into tears. She would have hugged Koji then and there, if there hadn’t been other people around.

After they left the store, she had given the ring to Koji to take care of and had caught a taxi to Kodenmacho. This would be only her second visit to Mineko’s apartment. Probably better if I don’t mention the ring, she was thinking as she sat in the back of the taxi.

She had arrived at Mineko’s apartment building at four or five minutes to eight. She took the elevator to the fourth floor and rang the doorbell. There had been no response. She pressed it a second time. Again, nothing. Thinking that was odd, she reached for the doorknob. The door had been unlocked.

The first thing she had seen in the apartment was Mineko sprawled on the floor. Was it a heart attack or a hemorrhage of some kind? As soon as she crouched down for a better look at Mineko’s face, she spotted the livid marks around the neck.

With trembling fingers Tamiko had called the police on her cell phone. She couldn’t remember what she’d said. After hanging up, she went and waited for the police in the hallway outside the apartment. The police must have told her to do so, she later thought.

The police came in no time. They led Tamiko out to a patrol car. She was expecting to be driven off somewhere, but instead a detective climbed in with her and asked her some questions. Initially, Tamiko couldn’t string together an answer. The detective betrayed no signs of impatience, and she gradually started to calm down. The detective was him — Kaga.

Ironically, it was only after she had recovered her composure that she realized the awful thing she’d done: Mineko wouldn’t have been murdered if she hadn’t postponed their appointment.

She recalled the scene from earlier that evening: she’d been in heaven when Koji presented her with the ring. Completely swept up in her own happiness, she hadn’t a thought to spare for anyone else. And at that very moment, the murderer was strangling Mineko, putting her through hell.

Sadness, regret, and self-reproach welled up inside her. With Detective Kaga looking on in amazement, she burst out: “The whole thing’s my fault. If I hadn’t rescheduled... It’s because of me. If I hadn’t been so self-absorbed. It’s me. I... I’m the reason Mineko was murdered. It’s all my fault.”

3

That night Koji phoned Tamiko to see if she felt like going out for dinner.

“I’m sorry. I don’t feel up to it yet.”

“Okay then, I’ll pop around to your place. I’ll pick up something en route. What do you feel like eating?”

Tamiko shook her head into the receiver.

“Let me take a rain check. My place is a mess, and I haven’t done my makeup.”

“So what? I’m worried about you. Are you eating properly?”

“Yes, I’m eating. You don’t need to worry. I just need to be alone. That’s all.”

Noticing the edge in her voice, Koji went quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Tamiko apologized. “I want to see you too, you know. There’s nothing I’d like more than a nice little cuddle. Being with you would help I forget about this whole horrid business.”

“Why not let me come around, then?”

“It doesn’t feel right. Just think of what poor Mineko went through. It’s not fair for me to run away from reality. No, spending time with you, feeling even a smidgen of happiness, forgetting about Mineko even for a very short time — that’s the coward’s choice.”

Koji went quiet again. Tamiko guessed he was trying to process what she had said.

Although Tamiko meant every word that she said, she wasn’t being completely candid. In her heart of hearts, she was convinced that if she and Koji hadn’t met up that evening, Mineko wouldn’t have been killed. She felt that if she saw him with that guilt stewing inside her, things between them would never be the same again, and all their lovely shared memories would become something painful.

She couldn’t bring herself to tell Koji what was eating at her. If she did, she knew that he would start blaming himself. After all, he was the one who pressured Tamiko to change her schedule that day.

“Is there really nothing I can do?”

“I appreciate your being there for me.”

At the other end of the line, Koji sighed.

“I hate the person who did this; hate them from the bottom of my heart. Murdering your friend is heinous enough, but the psychological pain they inflicted on you — that’s unforgivable. I’d like to kill the person responsible.”

Tamiko pressed her free hand to her temples.

“For God’s sake, Koji, don’t talk about killing people.”

“I’m sorry.”

“My pain is neither here nor there. What I want to know is why this happened. Mineko was such a lovely person... The police asked me all sorts of questions, but I don’t have any worthwhile information at all. I feel so useless.”

“Don’t torment yourself. No one can know what they don’t know, right?”

“I was one of her best friends.”

“Listen, I don’t know everything about my close friends. That’s just how life is.”

Now it was Tamiko’s turn to lapse into silence. She knew what Koji was trying to say, but the crisp certainty of his tone only saddened her.

“A detective came to see me today,” said Koji. “A different one from last time. This one’s name was Kaga.”

“I know him. We’ve met a couple of times.”

“Bit of an oddball. God knows why, but he gave me a present: rolled omelet.”

“Rolled omelet?”

“‘Because it’s a traditional dish,’ he said. Anyway, he hands me this thing then asks if I’m more of a knife-and-fork or chopstick kind of guy. Nuts! I told him that I was better than average at plying the old chopsticks.”

“What did he say about the murder?”

“He started out by asking me if Mineko and I had met. I said yes, that the three of us had gone out for dinner a couple of times. Next it was, did I remember what we’d talked about? I told him I couldn’t remember all the details, but that it was probably stuff like how you and I met. He’s like, ‘Why don’t you tell me about that?’”

“About how we met? Why should he care?”

“Search me. He wouldn’t give me a straight answer when I asked the same thing. Like I said, he’s a funny one. Next thing it’s do I have a cell phone? When I say I do, he asks me to show it to him.”

Tamiko remembered what Kaga had told her when he had dropped in on her earlier.

“And did you?”

“Sure. Then he’s like, ‘How long have you had this phone?’ What on earth was all that about?”

“Goodness only knows,” said Tamiko, though she knew perfectly well what Kaga was after. Believing that it was the murderer who had called Mineko from a pay phone, he wanted to check whether or not Koji had lost his cell phone. Kaga, in other words, regarded Koji as a suspect.

What an idiot! Tamiko thought. She’d been with Koji right up until she had gone over to Mineko’s apartment and found her dead. His alibi was rock solid. The police shouldn’t have any trouble figuring that out.

Unless—

Unless Kaga didn’t believe her. Or did he think that Koji somehow arrived at the apartment just before her and murdered her friend?

She’d told Kaga that her plan to move to London had sparked some friction between her and Mineko. Surely no sane person could see something that trivial as a motive for murder? Or did Kaga think Koji had some other motive?

Kaga had made a good first impression on Tamiko. He seemed sensitive, someone it was safe to trust. That’s why she had been so frank and open with him right from the start. The trouble was that she had no way of knowing if he was being straight with her. Perhaps he was just pretending to be sympathetic.

“Hey, Tamiko, are you still there?” Koji said.

“Oh... uh, yeah. Go on, what else did Kaga ask you?”

“That’s everything. He sort of popped up, asked a few questions, and then vanished in a puff of smoke. It was kind of creepy.”

“There’s no need to worry. He was probably just double-checking something.”

“I thought so, too,” said Koji breezily.

“Listen, I’m kind of tired. I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Right. Sorry to keep you on the phone. Sleep well, okay?”

“I’ll try. Thanks. ’Night.”

“Good night,” said Koji.

Tamiko hung up and collapsed into bed.

She wondered what the future held for her. Would the sorrow gradually fade away so she could enjoy being with Koji again? How was she supposed to process what had happened to Mineko? Would she just forget about Mineko in the natural course of things?

Tamiko closed her eyes. She’d hoped to fall asleep right away, but it wasn’t happening. Instead, her head felt thick and heavy.

“Is that your final decision?”

Suddenly, Tamiko heard Mineko’s voice and, in her mind’s eye, saw her face. There was a sharp furrow of anxiety between her eyebrows.

It was when Tamiko had told her about her plan to relocate to London with Koji.

“Yes. I think it’s what I want to do,” Tamiko had shyly replied.

“What about your work? What are you going to do with your translation business?”

“I... I’m going to finish off all the projects I’m currently working on and then get out of the business. Chances are that my work will dry up anyway after I move to London.”

Mineko’s eyes flitted restlessly about. Noticing her bewilderment, Tamiko had quickly added more.

“Of course, I’ll do what I can for you. I can introduce you to a number of translation agencies, plus there are some people I know in publishing who can probably send some work your way, too. There’s no need for you to worry.”

Mineko had avoided looking her in the eye.

“I can’t believe it. I only got divorced because you promised to help me...”

Tamiko had been at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I never saw this coming, either.”

Mineko had pressed a hand to her temple.

“I’m screwed,” she had muttered, half to herself. “If I’d known things were going to turn out like this, I’d have held out for more money.”

She was referring to her divorce settlement.

“Don’t worry. You’re an excellent translator. You’ll get more than enough work to make a living.”

Mineko had glared at her coldly.

“How do you know that? It won’t be that easy.”

“I meant what I said.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m not blaming you. Hey, the man you love asks you to marry him, and any promises you made to your friends go out the window. That’s normal enough.”

“It’s not like that. I feel awful. Can’t you at least believe that?”

“Well, if you really felt guilty about what you’re doing...” Mineko had shaken her head. “Oh, what’s the point? I should never have trusted anyone else. When it comes down to it, I’m the one who has to take care of myself.”

“But Mineko...,” protested Tamiko.

Mineko had put the money for her drink on the table, stood up, and stalked out of the café.

Her back as she walked away — that was the last time Tamiko had seen Mineko alive.

She was tormented by remorse. I shouldn’t have let things end like that. I should have run after her and hashed things out. We could have reached an understanding.

Instead, Tamiko had left things hanging for nearly two weeks. Mineko had every reason to see her as selfish and irresponsible. And when they were finally going to get together again, she’d called at the last minute to push the appointment back an hour. On the phone, Mineko had just said, “Okay, eight o’clock it is. See you later.” Inside, though, she was probably seething. And that hour’s delay had ended up costing Mineko her life.

“Forgive me, Mineko,” murmured Tamiko. God only knows how many times she’d said those words since the murder. But in her heart, she knew that no matter how many times she said she was sorry, her friend would never hear.

4

The humid air clung to her the moment she stepped through the sliding glass door. In an instant every single pore on her body seemed to ooze sweat. Ignoring the discomfort, Tamiko thrust her feet into her sandals. She was not yet ready to leave the building, but she was sick and tired of being stuck in her apartment. She needed to get some air in her lungs.

When had she last been out on the balcony? She’d actually rented this particular apartment because it overlooked a small park, but since moving in, she’d barely ventured outside to enjoy the view.

She was about to lean on the balcony railing when she suddenly noticed that it was black with grime.

She had gone back inside to fetch a rag when her cell phone pinged to indicate an incoming text. It was from Koji.

Tamiko clapped the phone shut with a sigh. Koji was getting jittery. He couldn’t plan his work without a clear date for his return to London. Tamiko guessed that he was probably more anxious than the text implied. It was typical of his good nature to be so tactful and avoid any high-pressure language.

Tamiko found a cloth and went back out onto the balcony. As she wiped the railing, she thought about Koji. It wasn’t fair of her to take advantage of his kindness. Nothing was going to bring the dead back to life; at some point she would have to let go of Mineko. But could she really just pull up stakes and go to London? Wouldn’t she hate herself for it?

The handrail now looked as bright and shiny as new. She let the air out of her lungs and looked at the street below. A figure was approaching. It was Detective Kaga, this time carrying a white plastic bag.

Abruptly, he raised his head and looked right up at her. Surely he hadn’t sensed that she was staring at him? Kaga grinned cheerfully. She responded with a curt nod.

It’s good timing in a way, she thought. I can ask him what he was really after when he went to see Koji.

A couple of minutes later, Kaga was standing outside the door of her apartment.

“I brought you some rice crackers this time instead of something sweet.”

He held out the bag.

Tamiko gave a pained smile. “Do you always give presents to the people you question?”

“Huh? I don’t think so... Don’t you like rice crackers?”

“I do. But getting all these presents from you just makes me feel guilty.” Tamiko took the bag. “Anyway, come on in. The place is a bomb site, as usual.”

Kaga stayed where he was. His arms were crossed, and he had a thoughtful look on his face.

“What is it?”

“Can’t you come out with me today?” Kaga said. “I want to take you somewhere. There’s something I want you to see, rather.”

Tamiko felt defensive. “Where are we going?”

“An area you know well. The Ningyocho district, less than ten minutes’ walk from Mineko Mitsui’s apartment.”

“Why do we need to go there?”

“You’ll see when we get there. I’ll be waiting downstairs. There’s no hurry. Take your time getting ready.” Kaga spun on his heel and strode to the elevator before Tamiko could reply.

Where was he going to take her? What was he planning to show her? With no idea what he had in mind, Tamiko made herself up properly for the first time in ages.

When she came down to the street, Kaga hailed a cab.

“By the way, did you like it?” he asked, as the cab picked up speed. “That sweet almond pastry I brought over last time?”

“It was fabulous. You’ve got excellent taste, Detective Kaga,” she replied. Tamiko wasn’t being diplomatic; she meant every word.

“Oh, I don’t know about that, but I’m pleased you liked it.”

“I heard you gave my boyfriend rolled omelet.”

“He told you? I wasn’t quite sure what to get for someone raised in the UK. I ended up opting for omelet. Mr. Tachibana wasn’t annoyed, was he?”

“Of course not. Though he did describe you as ‘unusual.’”

“Wandering around Ningyocho, I come across all sorts of little shops. They’re very much the sort of places that make you want to buy gifts for people. I suppose a detective turning up with rolled omelet might creep some people out. I should be more careful.” Kaga gave a toothy grin.

Kaga got the driver to stop just after they had turned at the big Suitengumae intersection. They were on a broad one-way street lined with shops and restaurants of all different shapes and sizes.

They walked along the sidewalk until Kaga came to a halt in front of a china shop. The sign above the door said “Yanagisawa’s.”

“Hello?” called Kaga, as he stepped inside.

“Ye-es,” called a woman, emerging from the back. She looked about twenty, had dyed brown hair and earrings. The jeans she had on were artfully ripped.

“Oh, you again, Detective Kaga?” The ingratiating smile vanished from her face.

“Sorry I’m not a proper customer.”

“Doesn’t matter. What do you want today?”

Kaga was clearly a frequent visitor here. Given the coldness of his welcome, Tamiko guessed that he was there to make inquiries rather than to buy anything.

“Do you still have those things you showed me the other day?” Kaga asked.

“Yes. You told us to hang on to them.”

“Can you bring them out for a minute?”

“Sure.”

Kaga waited for the woman to disappear into the back of the store, then turned to Tamiko.

“To be honest, there’s something here that I’d like you to see. A few days before she was killed, Mineko Mitsui came here to look at their chopsticks. I’m guessing she planned to give them as a present to someone. What I want you to do is to try and think who that someone might be.”

“Chopsticks? Now you mention it, I—”

Tamiko was interrupted by the return of the woman clerk, now carrying a long, thin box.

“You mean these?” she said, handing the box to Kaga.

Kaga opened the box and nodded. “Have a look,” he urged Tamiko.

Tamiko peered inside. The box contained two sets of chopsticks: a long black pair and another slightly shorter, vermilion pair. It looked like a his-and-hers set.

“I can’t tell anything just from looking at them,” she said.

“Take them out and have a careful look. They’ve got a decorative pattern.”

Tamiko duly extracted the black chopsticks. Kaga was right. She gave a start when she saw the decoration.

“What do you think?” asked Kaga. “That cherry blossom design is made of real mother-of-pearl. That’s why it’s that nice silvery color.”

“What? Was Mineko planning to—?”

“You were out of this particular set the day Ms. Mitsui came by, weren’t you?” Kaga asked the shop clerk. “Could you tell us what happened?”

The young woman nodded and took a step forward.

“These chopsticks caught Ms. Mitsui’s eye on a previous visit, so she came here specifically to buy them. She was disappointed that we were out of stock. She went home empty-handed, but I put in an order for a new set, which arrived the day before yesterday...”

Even before the woman had reached the end of her account, Tamiko felt the hot rush of emotion. Her face became flushed, and the tears began to stream from her eyes.

“Seems you’ve figured out whom she was planning to give them to,” said Kaga.

Tamiko’s head jerked up and down, and she pressed her hand to her mouth.

“I... it was me. She was going to give them to me and my fiancé.”

“Cherry blossoms have a special significance for you and Mr. Tachibana. You first met when you both went to enjoy the nighttime cherry blossoms.”

“That’s right. Koji had never seen so many cherry trees in his life. He loved it. Cherry blossoms became a symbol of our happiness.”

“Which, I suppose, is why both your mobile phone straps have a cherry blossom motif? I noticed that Mr. Tachibana had one, too.”

Tamiko’s eyes widened.

“So that’s why you got him to show you his cell phone.”

Kaga nodded.

“It occurred to me when I saw the strap on your cell phone that maybe you were the person for whom Mineko Mitsui planned to buy the chopsticks. It was just a hunch, and I had no proof. If I got you to look at the chopsticks and I was wrong about them, I’d only cause you even more pain. That’s why I went to see Mr. Tachibana first.”

“I thought you were looking at him as a suspect.”

“That the cops were ‘hot on his tail,’ eh? That’s natural enough. Apologize to him from me, please.”

Tamiko took another long look at the chopsticks. They meant that Mineko had forgiven her. She’d planned to give these chopsticks to Koji and her so they could enjoy the memory of the Tokyo cherry blossoms after moving to London.

“Those things I brought around to your place the other day — the passion fruit and sweet almond pastry — Mineko Mitsui tried to buy some just before she was killed,” Kaga said. “I guess she planned to serve them to you at her place, but they were sold out too, unfortunately.”

“Those pastries...”

“It was when the people at the pastry shop told me about her trying to buy them that I realized that Ms. Mitsui probably wanted to mend fences with you. That only made me more determined to pinpoint the person she wanted to give the chopsticks to.”

Wiping the tears away with the back of her hand, Tamiko looked hard at the detective.

“Aren’t you supposed to be investigating her murder, Detective?”

“Oh, I am investigating the murder; of course I am. But my job as a detective should go beyond that. People who’ve been traumatized by a crime are victims, too. Finding ways to comfort them is also part of my job.”

Tamiko lowered her eyes. A single tear dropped onto the hand in which she held the chopsticks.

A wind chime tinkled above her head.