Salvation of a Saint

TWENTY

Hiromi Wakayama stared at the tapestry on the wall. Linked filaments of grey and navy blue formed an irregular belt that ran through the design. Bending and twisting, the belt curved under and over itself, ultimately returning to its point of origin to complete an elaborate loop. Though it was a fairly complicated design, when seen from a distance it appeared to be a simple geometrical pattern. Yoshitaka had called it an ‘ugly DNA spiral’, but Hiromi was rather fond of it. When Ayane did her show in Ginza, the piece had been displayed right next to the entrance. It was her design, but Hiromi’s work.

It wasn’t all that unusual in the art world for many of the works in an artist’s individual show to have actually been executed by their apprentices. In the case of patchwork particularly, where a single large piece could take several months to make, some division of labour was necessary, or an artist would be hard-pressed to make enough pieces to hold a show.

Nonetheless, Ayane had done most of the work in the Ginza show herself. At least eighty percent of the tapestries there had been entirely her own product. And yet she had chosen to show the one that her apprentice made up front. Hiromi remembered the thrill she had felt when she saw it there – a thrill that came from knowing her talent was being recognized by her teacher.

At the time, she had thought she wanted to work for Ayane Mashiba forever …

Ayane’s coffee mug made a loud clink as she set it down on the worktable. The two women were sitting across from each other at Anne’s House Patchwork School. Ordinarily at this time of day a class would be in session, and several students would be there, cutting and sewing cloth. But Ayane had yet to reopen the school to students. Today there were only the two of them, and the bomb that Hiromi had dropped between them –

‘Oh?’ Ayane said, holding her mug in both hands. ‘Well, if that’s your decision …’

‘I’m sorry to spring this on you,’ Hiromi said, lowering her head.

‘There’s no need to apologize. I was a little worried about how things might go myself. Maybe this is really for the best.’

‘It’s all my fault,’ Hiromi said. ‘I … I just don’t know what to say.’

‘Then don’t say anything. I don’t really want to sit here watching you apologize anymore.’

‘Oh, right. Sorry …’ Hiromi hung her head. She felt tears stinging her eyes, but she held them back. She didn’t want to make Ayane any more uncomfortable than she already had.

Hiromi had been the one who called, saying she needed to talk. Ayane had invited her to come to Anne’s House without even asking what she wanted to talk about.

She really has no idea I’m going to quit, Hiromi had thought.

She’d broken the news while Ayane was making tea.

And now Ayane was somehow managing to be solicitous. ‘Hiromi, are you sure you’ll be okay?’ she asked.

Swallowing a sob, Hiromi looked up.

‘I mean financially,’ the widow went on. ‘I’m worried you might not be able to find work so easily. Unless your family is in a position to help?’

‘Honestly, I haven’t figured any of that out yet. I’d like to leave my parents out of it if possible, but I might not have a choice. Still, I have a bit of savings, so I’m going to try to do things on my own as much as possible.’

‘Well,’ Ayane said, ‘that doesn’t sound so reassuring.’ She brushed her hair back across her ear several times – a sure sign she was irritated. ‘But maybe it’s not my place to worry about that.’

‘I don’t deserve it.’

‘Can we please lay off the self-pity?’ Ayane said, the sudden harshness in her voice sending shivers through Hiromi’s body. Her head drooped again.

‘Sorry,’ Ayane added quietly. ‘That wasn’t very nice of me. But I really don’t want you acting like this. Maybe it’s impossible for us to work together, but I do want you to be happy. That’s the truth.’

With some trepidation, Hiromi raised her head. Ayane was smiling – a thin, lonely smile; but it seemed genuine.

‘And the person responsible for making both of us feel like this isn’t around anymore.’ The widow’s voice was soft and distant. ‘It’s time we started looking forward, not back.’

Hiromi nodded, though the suggestion sounded all but impossible. Her love for Yoshitaka, her sadness at losing him, and her guilt for betraying her mentor all weighed too heavily on her heart.

‘How many years is it since you started working for me?’ Ayane asked, abruptly and deliberately cheerful.

‘About … three years, maybe a little more.’

‘Three years already? If you were in high school, you’d have already graduated. Maybe that’s how we should think of it: your graduation!’

Hiromi almost shook her head. I’m not so much of a fool that that would cheer me up.

‘You had a key for the classroom, didn’t you?’

‘Oh, right, I’ll give it back,’ Hiromi said, reaching into her bag.

‘No, you hold onto it.’

‘But—’

‘I know you’ve left lots of stuff here. It will take you a while before everything is cleaned out. And if there’s anything else you need, go ahead and take it. How about that tapestry? I know you like it.’ Ayane indicated the tapestry Hiromi had been admiring before.

‘That one – really?’

‘You’re the one who made it, after all. And people loved it at the show. I didn’t sell it because I wanted to give it to you, you know.’

Hiromi recalled with a pang of guilt that even though most of the works on display in the Ginza show had sported price tags, this tapestry had been marked ‘not for sale’.

Now Ayane turned more brisk. ‘How many days do you think it will take to gather all your stuff?’

‘Only today and tomorrow, I think.’

‘Okay, well, then, how about you give me a call when you’re finished? The key … You can leave the key in the mail slot in the door. Be careful not to forget anything – I’m going to call a professional and have them come in to clean this place out when you’re done.’

Hiromi blinked, not understanding.

‘Well, it’s not like I can go on living at that hotel forever. It’s not very frugal, or convenient. I thought I would live here until I figure out where I’m going next.’

‘So you’re not going back home?’

Ayane sighed, her shoulders dropping. ‘I thought about it, but I’ve decided not to. So many happy memories … But they’re all bitter now. Twisted up. And anyhow, it’s far too large for me to live in by myself. I’m amazed he lived there alone for so long before meeting me.’

‘Are you going to sell it?’

‘I’ll try, though it might be hard with word getting out about what happened there. I thought I would talk to Mr Ikai first. I’m sure he has some connections who could help.’

Hiromi sat looking down at the mug on the worktable, unable to think of anything more to say. The tea Ayane had made for her was probably cold by now.

‘Well, I’m going to leave now,’ the older woman said, picking up her now empty mug.

‘Just leave that, I’ll wash it before I leave,’ Hiromi offered.

‘Oh? Well, thanks,’ Ayane said, returning the mug to the table. ‘You brought in these mugs, didn’t you – something from a friend’s wedding, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, the pair of them.’

Now they were sitting side by side on the worktable. Hiromi and Ayane had often drunk from them when they held their monthly curriculum meetings.

‘You should definitely remember to take them when you’re packing.’

‘Right,’ Hiromi said in a small voice. She hadn’t been planning to take the mugs at all; but it occurred to her now that leaving them might give Ayane yet another reason to remember what had happened. One more weight settled on her heart.

Ayane hoisted her shoulder bag and made for the door. Hiromi followed.

When she was done putting on her shoes, Ayane looked up at her assistant. ‘It’s strange, isn’t it? Me leaving first, even though it’s you who’s quitting.’

‘I’ll clean up as fast as I can. Maybe I can even finish today.’

‘No, there’s no need to hurry. I didn’t mean it like that,’ Ayane said, looking directly at her. ‘Be well, Hiromi.’

‘You too.’

Ayane nodded and opened the door, smiling as she stepped out. The door closed behind her.

Hiromi sat on the floor and breathed a deep sigh.

It was painful to quit her job, and she was worried about what she would do for money, but she was certain that this was her only option. It had been a mistake to try to carry on as though everything was the same, even after she had admitted to her relationship with Yoshitaka. No matter how understanding Ayane might seem, Hiromi knew she hadn’t forgiven her, not deep in her heart.

And then there was the baby. Hiromi was terrified Ayane might ask what she was planning to do. She still hadn’t been able to come to a decision.

Maybe Ayane hadn’t asked because she assumed the obvious: that Hiromi would terminate the pregnancy. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed obvious that it never occurred to Ayane that Hiromi might actually want the child …

Hiromi paused, realizing with a shock that when she looked deep down inside herself, all she could think of was keeping it.

But what sort of life would she lead as a single mother? She couldn’t go back to her parents. They were both still in good health, but they weren’t exactly on easy street, and she could only imagine how they would react when they heard that their daughter had become an unwed mother, and destroyed a marriage in the process.

Maybe I have to have an abortion – the more she thought about it, the more she kept coming back to the same obvious choice. Yet it was a conclusion she wanted desperately to avoid. How many times since Yoshitaka’s death had she wished for an easy way out? There is no easy way.

She was shaking her head at her own stupidity when her phone rang. Hiromi stood slowly and walked back to the worktable. She pulled the phone out of her bag. Recognizing the number on the display, she hesitated a long moment before she pushed the accept call button. Ignoring them now won’t make them go away.

‘Yes?’ she said, her voice unintentionally dark.

‘Hello, this is Detective Utsumi from the Metropolitan Police. I was wondering if you had a moment?’

‘Sure.’

‘I’m sorry to bother you again, but there were a few more things I wanted to ask. Maybe we could meet up?’

‘When?’

‘As soon as possible.’

Hiromi breathed a long sigh, not really caring if the detective heard. ‘Then, could you come here? I’m at the patchwork school.’

‘In Daikanyama, right? Is Mrs Mashiba there as well?’

‘No, she’s gone for the day. It’s just me.’

‘Okay, I’ll be right over.’

Hiromi returned her phone to her bag and rubbed her forehead with one hand.

It occurred to her for the first time that quitting the patchwork school didn’t mean it was all over. The police would never let her go until they’d solved the case – if they solved the case. She would never be allowed to have her child in peace.

She gulped the remaining tea from her mug – lukewarm, as expected.

The events of the past three years floated in her mind. When she first came to Anne’s House, her budding patchwork skills had been inconsistent, her lack of experience evident; but she’d made tremendous progress in the first three months – so much so that she’d even surprised herself. When Ayane asked her to become her assistant, she’d said yes on the spot. She had long since grown tired of the pointless, mechanical work the temp agency occasionally sent her.

Hiromi glanced at the computer sitting in the corner of the room. She and Ayane relied heavily on drafting software when making their designs. Sometimes it took a whole night just to decide on colours; but not once had she ever found the work onerous. Once they had decided on a design, they would go and buy the cloth. And then, after spending all that time meticulously deciding on colours, once at the store they would inevitably be swept away by some new fabric in stock, often changing their minds on the spot, ruefully laughing together at their own lack of restraint.

I was satisfied, Hiromi realized. I had a good job, and a good life. And now it had all come to an end. She shook her head. It was all her fault. She had stolen the husband of another woman – and not just any woman, the very person who had helped her become who she was today.

Hiromi clearly remembered the first time she met Yoshitaka Mashiba. It was in this very room. She’d been getting ready for class when Ayane called to tell her a man would be showing up, and she was to ask him to wait there for her. She never mentioned who the man was.

Yoshitaka arrived shortly after. She let him in and offered him tea. He looked around the room with interest, asking about this and that. Her first impression was that he had the curiosity of a little boy, combined with the relaxed poise of a man. It was clear from just a few moments’ conversation that he was very smart, as well.

Ayane arrived afterwards and introduced him. Hiromi was surprised to hear they had met at a singles party. She had no idea Ayane attended that kind of event.

Looking back on it now, she realized that her interest in Yoshitaka began that day. She remembered clearly feeling a pang of something remarkably like jealousy when Ayane told her they were dating.

If their meeting had happened some other way – if Ayane had shown up with him – Hiromi was sure she would’ve felt differently. It was that time they had spent together, just the two of them, before she knew who he was, that had planted the seed of her later feelings.

Once love began to grow, even though it might remain a fragile thing, it was hard to quench entirely. Once Ayane married, Hiromi began visiting the house, feeling even closer than before to Yoshitaka. The times when they were alone together became more frequent.

Of course, Hiromi had never confessed her feelings. That would only cause trouble, she’d thought; and she had never really considered a relationship, not even as a remote possibility. It was enough for her at that time to feel like part of the Mashiba family.

But somehow, she thought, somehow he knew. Her feelings must’ve shown through, despite her attempts to hide them. Gradually, the way he acted around her began to change. Where he used to look at her like a younger sister, now there was something else in his eyes. And it would have been a lie to say she wasn’t elated when she saw it.

She gazed around the room. She’d been working right here one night about three months ago when Yoshitaka called. ‘Ayane was telling me that you’ve been eating late these days. It must be pretty busy at the school.’

He was late getting off work himself, and there was a ramen place he’d been meaning to check out. He invited her along.

She was hungry, so she said yes, and Yoshitaka came to pick her up.

She didn’t remember the taste of the ramen. Maybe it wasn’t so good – or maybe it was because they’d sat side by side at the counter, and every time he took a bite, his elbow would brush against her shoulder. That touch was all she remembered.

Yoshitaka drove her to her apartment afterwards. He stopped the outside and smiled at her. ‘Maybe we can go and get ramen again some time soon?’

‘Sure thing, anytime,’ she told him.

‘Thanks. You’re a pleasure to be with.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I guess I’ve just been tired a lot here and here,’ he said, pointing at his head and his chest in turn. ‘Being with you is a relief from that.’ Then a serious look came over his face. ‘Thanks for joining me tonight. I had fun.’

‘Me, too,’ she said; and he reached his arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently towards him. She let herself be drawn in. Their kiss felt completely natural, completely right.

‘Good night,’ he said.

‘Good night,’ she replied.

Her heart was soaring so high that night she had trouble getting to sleep. But not once did she feel like she had made a mistake. All they had done was create a little secret for them to share – that was how she thought of it.

Soon,Yoshitaka was all she could think about. His presence loomed large in her mind, accompanying her throughout her day. Maybe if they hadn’t met again her fever would’ve passed in time. But he kept calling her, with increasing frequency. And she kept staying later at the school, even when she had nothing to do, just to wait for his calls.

Like a balloon cut from its string, her heart was lofting out of reach. It was not until they crossed that final line in a relationship between a man and a woman that she thought for the first time she was doing something wrong. But the words Yoshitaka told her that night were strong enough to whisk away her unease.

‘I’m askingAyane for a divorce,’ he said. ‘We made a promise that if, after a year, we were still without a child, then we would dissolve our marriage. We still have three months left, but my hopes aren’t very high. I can tell it’s not going to work.’

His words were cold, but nothing could have lifted Hiromi’s spirits higher. That’s how far I’d fallen, she thought now. That’s how thoughtless I’d become.

In retrospect, it was obvious they’d committed a monumental betrayal. How could Ayane not hate her? Maybe Ayane killed him after all. Maybe she wants to kill me, too. Hiromi wouldn’t have been all that surprised if Ayane’s kindness towards her was just an act, a kind of camouflage to conceal her murderous intent.

But Ayane had an alibi, and it didn’t sound like the police suspected her; so maybe it really wasn’t she.

Hiromi wondered if there was anyone else who hated Yoshitaka enough to kill him. The thought gave her yet another reason to be depressed: here she was, pregnant with the man’s baby, and she knew so little about him.

Utsumi’s arrival roused her from her bleak reverie. The detective was wearing a dark suit, and she sat in the chair where Ayane had been sitting only thirty minutes before, apologizing again for the trouble.

‘I just don’t think asking me questions is going to get you anywhere in your investigation,’ Hiromi told her. ‘The truth is, I don’t really know that much about Mr Mashiba.’

‘And yet you had a relationship?’

Hiromi’s mouth tightened. ‘I knew what kind of person he was, but that’s not what you need now, is it? You need to know about his past, or his troubles at work, and I don’t know any of that.’

‘Actually, knowing what kind of person Mr Mashiba was is very important for our investigation. But I didn’t come here to talk about anything difficult like that today. I wanted to ask you about things that are more everyday.’

‘What do you mean, everyday?’

‘Like, about Mr and Mrs Mashiba’s daily lives. You are the one who knew both of them best.’

‘Actually, I would think Mrs Mashiba would know better than I. Shouldn’t you be talking to her?’

Utsumi smiled. ‘It’s hard to get an objective view of someone’s life by asking them directly.’

Hiromi sighed. ‘So what is it you want to know?’

‘I understand that you began visiting the Mashibas’ house soon after they were married. Can you tell me how often you were there?’

‘Well, it varied, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was about once or twice a month on average.’

‘Any particular days?’

‘No, nothing as formal as that. Though I guess I was there on Sundays more than any other day. That’s when the school was closed.’

‘So Mr Mashiba was usually home on the Sundays you visited?’

‘Usually, yes.’

‘Did you two talk much then?’

‘Sometimes, but usually, Mr Mashiba would be in his study. Apparently he worked from home on the weekends. Besides,’ Hiromi said, a bit defensively, ‘I usually only visited the house because I had something to go over with Ayane. It wasn’t just a social call.’ She didn’t want the detective to think that she had been going to see Yoshitaka.

‘Where would you meet with Mrs Mashiba when you visited?’

‘The living room.’

‘Always?’

‘Yes, pretty much. Does it matter?’

‘Did you ever drink tea or coffee while you were together?’

‘There was always something.’

‘Was it ever you who made it on those occasions?’

‘Sometimes. Like when Ayane was busy making something else.’

‘You told us that she taught you how to make coffee at their house, which is why you followed her directions on the morning of Mr Mashiba’s death.’

‘Yes.’ Hiromi took a sharp breath. ‘I can’t believe we’re talking about the coffee again. How many times have we gone over this?’

Maybe she was used to her interviewees getting upset, but the young detective’s expression didn’t even register Hiromi’s comment.

‘When you came over with the Ikais for that party, did you open the refrigerator at all?’ Utsumi asked.

‘Excuse me, the refrigerator?’

‘Yes. There should have been some bottles of mineral water inside. Did you notice them at the time?’

‘Well, yes, I did. I actually went to get a bottle that night.’

‘Do you remember how many bottles were inside?’

‘How could I remember a thing like that? There were a couple, I guess.’

‘One or two bottles, then? More?’

‘I just told you I don’t remember. They were in a row, though, so maybe four or five?’ Hiromi said, her voice getting louder.

‘Right,’ the detective replied, her face as expressionless as a Noh mask. ‘You told us that just before his death, Mr Mashiba invited you over. Was that a frequent occurrence?’

‘No, that was the first time ever.’

‘Why do you think he did that? On that day in particular?’

‘Well, because Ayane had gone back to her parents’ home in Sapporo, I guess.’

‘So that was the first time an opportunity like that had presented itself?’

‘Yes, that’s part of it. He probably also wanted to tell me in person, as quickly as possible, that Ayane had agreed to the divorce.’

‘I see,’ Utsumi said, nodding. ‘Do you know anything about their hobbies?’

‘Hobbies?’ Hiromi echoed, raising an eyebrow at the sudden shift in topic.

‘Mr and Mrs Mashiba’s hobbies. Did they play any sports? Did they like to travel, or go for drives?’

Hiromi shrugged. ‘I know Mr Mashiba played tennis and golf, but I don’t think Ayane had any hobbies per se. Just patchwork and cooking.’

‘How did they spend their time off together?’

‘Sorry,’ Hiromi replied, ‘I don’t know much about that.’

‘Anything is fine,’ the detective told her.

‘Well, I know that Ayane was usually working on her patchwork. And I guess Mr Mashiba watched DVDs sometimes.’

‘Which room did Ayane use to work on her patchwork when she was at home?’

‘The living room, I think,’ Hiromi said, starting to wonder where all this was leading. The questions seemed entirely random.

‘Did they ever go on trips together?’

‘I know that right after their wedding they went to Europe – Paris and London. I don’t think they went on any trips after that, except when Mr Mashiba went somewhere on business.’

‘What about shopping? Did you ever go out shopping with Mrs Mashiba?’

‘Sure. We bought cloth for the patchwork school together all the time.’

‘Was that on Sundays, too?’

‘No. We went on weekdays, before class started. There was usually a lot, so we would bring it to the classroom right from the store.’

Utsumi nodded and scribbled something in her notebook. ‘Thanks for your time. That’s all the questions I have for now.’

‘Sorry, I have to ask,’ Hiromi said, ‘why were you asking me all those things? I couldn’t tell at all what you were getting at.’

‘Which question in particular were you wondering about?’

‘All of them. What do hobbies and going shopping have to do with the case?’

After a moment’s hesitation, Utsumi smiled. ‘It’s okay if you don’t understand. It has to do with a theory we’re working on.’

‘Can you tell me what it is?’

‘Sorry,’ she replied, standing quickly. ‘That’s against the rules.’

Utsumi apologized again for the intrusion and showed herself out.