Zen Attitude (15 page)

“I’m here about the furniture,” I improvised, not wanting to give my name.

“Of course, all the antiques!” said the older woman, whose round face was so similar to Butterfly’s that I decided they were mother and daughter. “The first floor will need to be cleared for the ceremonies, won’t it? I must say I expected you to come in a uniform.”

“I’m actually here to appraise things. I just learned about the death this morning.”

“It was sudden, instead of lingering, which was not the way we expected it,” the mother agreed. “The hazards of those new machines . . .”

“Which machines?”

“Mr. Ideta used a dialysis machine for treatment of diabetes. There was a tube that went from his arm to the machine, and every several days his blood underwent a sort of chemical rinsing in the machine.

“Like a washing machine,” the daughter added, and her mother shot her a reproving look before continuing.

“Normally, the blood would flow in a nice circuit from him through the machine and then back to his body again. But the last time—” Here the mother gulped. “The blood was pulled out but did not return. It stayed in the machine.”

“He died with no blood in him, then.” I was feeling queasy. “How could that happen?”

“A jammed switch. Poor Miss Ideta blames herself, which is unfair. She devoted her life to that old man!”

“She should be finally at peace, ready to go on with her life, and now it’s so awful,” Butterfly agreed.

“Wasn’t it the nurse’s fault?” I asked.

“The nurse was not in the house. Miss Ideta learned how to use that machine ten years ago to save the cost of having someone come in. It was very easy for her, like clockwork. She set the machine to process and went out to the garden to hang her laundry. By the time everything was pegged up, her brother was dead.” Butterfly ended her macabre description in a whisper.

I wondered if the doctors who had performed the postmortem were thinking about what I was. Japan, like most countries in the world, banned euthanasia. But there were too many old people living on a shrinking socioeconomic tax base, which had led to some assisted suicides. It was an issue that Japanese society had as much trouble grappling with as the United States did.

Moving into the cramped living room to look at the furniture, I found myself doubting that Nomu Ideta had asked his sister to help him die. He had talked about trying to keep his antiques, which surely was a sign he wanted to live and enjoy them. Maybe Nomu had been right that someone was stealing his treasures. Haru Ideta overheard him telling me these things . . . could she have killed her brother to shut him up?

New voices in the entryway reached my ears. From the greetings uttered by Butterfly and her mother, I knew Haru Ideta had come back. I’d traveled to Denen-Chofu wanting to talk to her, but now I was scared. I couldn’t let her find me. Unlatching the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, I squeezed my way out into the garden. Forgotten laundry still hung from the day before, a collection of long, old-fashioned men’s undergarments that must have belonged to Nomu. The long pants flapped forlornly in the wind, and I hoped Butterfly and her mother would remember to bring them inside.

At the apartment, I checked the answering machine and found a message from Hugh saying that he and Angus were swimming at the Tokyo American Club. They’d probably stay for drinks and dinner. Bully for them. I pressed erase and went into the bedroom, where I slipped off my dress and lay down on the bed and closed my eyes.

What would it feel like to have the blood drained out of you? Would you slowly go numb, or might the lack of blood flowing to the brain mean you simply went to sleep? Nomu Ideta had died slowly, while Nao Sakai’s death had been sudden and violent. Still, it seemed likely that both deaths had come about by the same hand. Who would die next? When Akemi had suffered such a strong reaction to the hashish, I’d thought it was all Angus’s fault, but now I couldn’t be sure. Somebody within the group of ragged strangers who’d come to the party might have sprinkled something more dangerous over the brownies, heightening the effect. But had that been done for the purpose of knocking us all out?

I was getting so wound up that I couldn’t sleep. I tossed unhappily between the smooth cotton sheets for a while before raiding the medicine cabinet for NyQuil. It was ironic how I couldn’t tolerate Angus’s mood adjusters, although I felt free to use one when I needed it. Lying back down, I did not have to wait long for blackness to overtake me.

I was dreaming that I was running. The faster and louder my feet fell on the track, the more effortless moving seemed to be.
I can’t believe it
, I shouted, looking back at Akemi Mihori, whom I’d eclipsed. Running was like flying; it was what I had been born to do.

A roaring in my ears broke the rhythm; I felt myself falling through a fog and into Hugh’s voice.

“All knackered out from your house wrecking?”

I mumbled something, keeping my eyes closed and trying to fall back into my dream.

“Why’d you do it? It looks bloody terrible.”

“Hey!” I opened my eyes and beheld him fairly glowing with rage.

“Don’t look at me. Look at the room!”

I saw the source of his anger: the wall-length wardrobe standing open, his precious English shirts and suits lying willy-nilly on the ground. My clothes were mixed in the heap, as well as every volume from the bookshelves. The Turkish rug had been turned over, and my wood-block prints were hanging askew on the wall. I sat up, the sheet falling away from me. While I had slept, something terrible had happened.

“I didn’t do it,” I said, fear breaking through my sleepy haze. “Someone must have come in.”

“The whole flat’s like this.” Hugh’s voice shook. “God, to think you were lying here undressed—think of the risk to you—”

Angus appeared in the doorway, and Hugh whipped the sheets up to cover my bare body.

“So, who’s leading the cleanup?” Angus cackled. “Not her, I hope.”

“Is the
tansu
still in your room?” I asked, flashing to the item that tied together Nao Sakai, Nomu Ideta, and me. Obviously this was why the burglars had come.

“That beat-up old chest? It’s there, but everything’s been tossed out. It’ll be hours till I get my cassettes alphabetized again!”

“Angus, could you leave the room for a minute? I need to get dressed.” I couldn’t wait to get to the
tansu
and make my own examination.

Swearing about his cassettes, Angus went off, and I slid unsteadily out of bed and rushed into some clothes. Hugh picked up the bedside telephone, held it for a second, and then followed its cord around to the plug point. “The line’s been clipped. Great. If you’d awakened, you would have been powerless.” He rummaged around the room. “And my pocket phone’s gone!”

Once my dress was buttoned up, I went straight to the
tansu.
As Angus had said, every drawer had been pulled out. I pawed through Angus’s filthy garments on the floor, wondering whether there had been something of value in the
tansu
that had been found and removed. In that case, our troubles should be over.

But they couldn’t be, I realized with a mixture of nausea and terror as I left the bedrooms and went into the rest of the apartment. It had been completely trashed. I walked through the living room and kitchen, seeing every cabinet flung open and all the books left facedown on the carpets. I didn’t know how I’d put away the things I’d loved, which now seemed tainted by an unknown intruder’s touch. All of a sudden, I hated Roppongi Hills. Despite its high-class fees and doormen, I was no more protected than Nomu Ideta had been in his high-walled house, or Nao Sakai in a power-locked car—although they had been killed and I had been spared, for reasons I didn’t want to begin contemplating.

The police arrived within minutes, filling the circular driveway of Roppongi Hills with their blue and white motorcade. From the window, I stared down at their cars and Winnie Clancy buzzing about in a fury of excitement. She was in leotard and tights; obviously she’d run from her video workout to see what had happened. I was almost glad the telephone was out of order, given that it might slightly delay her interference.

For now, the apartment was filled with blue-suited men crawling on the carpet collecting samples of dirt or dusting the
tansu
for fingerprints while I explained to Lieutenant Hata, the young officer in charge, about the fifty-odd people who’d attended our cocktail party.

“So there’s not much use dusting for fingerprints, given the number of our guests—oh, and the caterers as well—”

The officers dusted awhile longer before deciding to focus on an inventory of missing possessions. Locating the television and CD player and valuable furniture was easy; what I struggled with was trying to remember exactly how many Imari plates had been in the cabinets. In the end, we still had no idea what was missing beside Hugh’s pocket phone.

“There’s the possibility the break-in was some kind of warning. The work Mr. Glendinning does for Sendai—is it of a confidential nature? Can you ask him if he can think of any enemies? Any trouble you’ve had over the last several months?” Lieutenant Hata asked me.

I translated for Hugh, and he shook his head. “My laptop—which has everything on it—is still here. Besides, I have good relations with everyone.”

“The burglar could have been at our party.” Angus lazily dropped onto the sofa next to me. “I mean, I thought I lost the flat key, but I don’t know. Maybe someone nicked it.”

After I translated, Hata nodded at Angus, as if respecting the opinion of a sage. “That is a good thought, because the door shows no signs of forced entry. It is possible one of your guests removed it for his own use.”

“I doubt it,” Hugh said. “Our friends are good people. Tell him, Rei!”

I thought of Angus’s sinister friends who’d dropped in, but I was sure they would have been more interested in Hugh’s fancy stereo than an old wooden
tansu.
And that, I reminded myself, was the root of all the trouble.

“Actually, there’s something you should know, Lieutenant. It concerns a
tansu
I bought last week.”

“Rei, the
tansu
is still here. Now is not the time to bring it up,” Hugh said.

“Please. I am here to try to help.” Lieutenant Hata looked at me intently.

“Does anyone want a cup of tea?” I asked. “It’s a complicated story, but I’ve been waiting for someone who wants to listen.”

It was hard to figure out why I trusted Hata. He wore the same dark blue uniform as all the others. He was young—somewhere in his thirties, with kind eyes. He was also a good, uncritical listener, allowing me to slow the story down and add in details that I’d almost forgotten. I spoke in Japanese first, and then in English, so that Hugh, who was glowering at me from across the table, could understand everything.

“To sum it all up, Miss Shimura, you think your burglar had something to do with the murder of Nao Sakai? And the accidental death of the diabetic man in Denen-Chofu?” Hata asked after half an hour.

“That’s right. It’s the
tansu
that links the three of us. What I can’t understand is why it’s so important! Supposedly it’s only worth a fraction of what I paid.”

“Before we go further, I should really ask my Japanese lawyer to join us,” Hugh interrupted. “He’s more familiar with the situation.”

“More familiar than me?” I shot back.

“Please have him telephone me, if it’s not too much trouble.” Hata, the peacemaker, smiled slightly at Hugh. “I’m grateful for the frankness of Miss Shimura. She has construed many things, but it is still worth writing a memo to my colleagues.”

“A memo to your colleagues?” I repeated, upset not only with Hata, but with myself for being naïve enough to believe he was going to take over.

“Yes. I work for the Roppongi police department, which means I’m responsible for investigating crimes in this neighborhood, not Denen-Chofu or Ueno.”

“You mean you can’t order a new investigation?” I was appalled.

“The Japanese police force is very—how shall I say?—territorial about work. I will endeavor to apprehend Mr. Glendinning’s apartment intruder, but I can only share information with the officers handling Mr. Sakai’s death. I cannot investigate it myself.” Lieutenant Hata capped his ballpoint pen and returned it to his breast pocket.

“If everyone works in their own tiny patch of Tokyo, how d’you solve crimes?” Angus interrupted, for once speaking my mind.

“Through cooperation,” Lieutenant Hata said, smiling wryly. “Another Japanese custom.”

Try as we might, Angus, Hugh, and I found it impossible to cooperate on the apartment cleanup. I had to invade Angus’s quarters to look for my business files, and he went crazy when I overturned a case of already jumbled cassettes. Likewise, I found myself snapping at Hugh when I discovered he’d arranged my side of the clothing closet according to his taste.

“Let’s leave the cleanup to the maid,” Hugh said at last. “She’s scheduled for Wednesday, but if you call her, Rei, I bet she’ll come tomorrow.”

“Fumie couldn’t possibly help. What would she do with all the papers?” I objected.

“Put them in one big stack, I suppose,” Hugh said. “Later on you’ll sort through yours, and I’ll sort through mine.”

“I don’t want any more Japanese going through my stuff.
She’s
bad enough,” Angus said, sneering.

Hugh turned from the books he’d been reorganizing to face his brother. “I’m your brother, so you can vent on me. But you won’t speak to Rei like that.”

Angus’s face reddened with outrage. “I should just get on the plane again, for all you’ve done to make me feel welcome, you and that bitch!”

As much as I’d dreamed of seeing Angus getting dressed down, I suddenly didn’t want it. Not with all the tensions I already had. In a low voice, I said, “Just stop. The apartment’s just too crowded. One of us needs to go, and it’ll be me. I can stay with my relatives in Yokohama.”

“Don’t you dare.” Hugh turned on me fiercely.

“What’s wrong with my relatives?”

“Run to them and they’ll think I’m a bastard. After the gossip mill feeds them the story of what happened at our party, they’ll never let you come back.”