Six Four (35 page)

‘We’ll miss the start if we don’t go now.’

‘It’ll be okay, it won’t start right on time.’

‘Mum’s worried the roads’ll be busy.’

‘Okay, Achan, you go ahead and get in the car with Yoshi.’

Mikami had overstayed his welcome. He’d done enough. With this in mind, he bowed to take his leave.

‘Sorry to have intruded.’

When he turned around, he heard a stifled giggle. Turning, he saw the young girl, still half concealed, and watching him out of one eye. She had one hand over her mouth, trying to hold back laughter. An unspeakable emotion washed over him. He felt himself shiver. It was as though he’d caught a glimpse of himself through the girl’s eyes. The way he looked to other people, not the way he looked to himself in the mirror or in a photograph.

Ayumi felt suddenly close by. He felt a need to cover himself with something. The girl’s crescent-moon eyes, which were no doubt full of charm, seemed at that moment to resemble those of a felon or a demon.

Back outside, the heavens threatened to open at any moment. Mikami couldn’t tell if it would be rain or snow; the thick clouds could go either way.

As he walked back to his car, his phone started to vibrate in his jacket pocket. Something told him it had also been doing this while he’d been standing outside Akama’s house. He checked the caller display. Mizuki Murakushi.

He heard a noise and looked up. Akama’s garage door was sliding open. A metallic-silver sedan slowly emerged from inside. Akama was at the wheel. His wife was in the passenger seat, dressed to go out. Two heads bobbed in the back. The car drew closer. Passed by. Mikami kept his head down.

He glanced up at the side and back mirrors. The car continued to pull away. The brake lights came on. It turned a corner. Even then, Mikami found it hard to shake the sensation of those eyes, laughing as they watched him.

Something in his pocket was vibrating again. Shaking himself out of his reflections, he pushed the answer button.

‘I know, you’re at work. Should I call later?’

Despite the suggestion, it was clear she had no intention of hanging up.

‘No, it’s fine. I’m on a break. What is it?’

‘I had another call from Minako, about an hour ago.’

‘Okay.’

Hearing what he had expected to hear, Mikami felt a mixture of relief and annoyance.

‘She kept asking about the silent call we had. I think she wanted to convince herself it was nothing to do with the ones you had, that yours were from Ayumi, after all.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Well? Did you have a proper talk to her about it?’

‘Yeah. Can’t say if it went well or not, though.’

‘You think it might have backfired? She did sound a little cross with me.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Hmm?’

Perhaps that had sounded a little cold. ‘I’m pretty sure it didn’t backfire. Don’t worry about it.’

‘You think so? Oh, you know how worked up I get when I think of Minako having to deal with this by herself. I had another call, too, from the Matsuokas.’

The name threw him for a moment.

‘Oh, not
Chief Matsuoka.
His wife, Ikue. She said you visited their apartment?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Right. Anyway, she didn’t seem to think the calls were from Ayumi either. She said she hadn’t been sure, about what you’d told her.’

Word had spread around the female officers’ network. Mikami began to feel irked. When people started to talk without involving himself or Minako he couldn’t help doubting their good intentions, regardless of any apparent sincerity.

‘I asked around a bit . . . and it turns out almost everyone’s had a call at some point. They had one at the chief’s family home, too, only a couple of months back.’

‘Huh.’

‘Would you try talking to her again?’

‘Sure.’

‘If she insists the calls were from Ayumi after you’ve talked it through, well, it’s probably best just to go with it. The worst thing would be for her to feel isolated. Just say it was my idea – tell her I’m a meddling gossip, something like that. Whatever happens, she needs to believe you’re on her side.’

Mikami reconsidered his frustration, but it was still hard just to say yes. Mizuki was helping more than most sisters would.

‘Mikami? Are you still there?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Are you angry?’

‘Why would I be?’

‘Are you sure? Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested anything in the first place . . .’

‘Don’t worry about it. Minako makes her own decisions.’

‘What do you mean?’

He clicked his tongue, frustrated at having to answer yet another question. ‘Just that she’s not the type to let herself get swayed by anything you or I say.’

‘I don’t think that’s true for you. She believes in you from the bottom of her heart. You should be more confident in yourself.’

He didn’t like the sound of what she was saying. Was she planning to talk about a Minako he didn’t know, out here among the directors’ housing block?

‘Okay, thanks for letting me know. I have to—’

‘Wait. Oh, no, this won’t do. You sound like you’ve given up completely. Are you sure the two of you aren’t fighting? Is it because of me?’

‘It’s nothing to do with that, like I said.’

‘But . . .’

‘We’re just not on the same level. The truth is, I can never tell what she’s thinking.’

‘Since Ayumi ran away, you mean?’

‘No. Right from the beginning.’

Mikami wondered if he’d accidentally imparted something he
hadn’t meant to. Mizuki fell silent, sighing before she spoke again.

‘In that case, I’ll tell you how she feels.’

‘There’s no need.’

‘I’m telling you. I couldn’t stand it, not for you two to come unstuck when you most need to be there for each other. You can’t let that happen, not even a little bit. Especially if you haven’t communicated properly in the past.’

‘Look, I was a detective. I didn’t have the time to—’

‘You know that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s no use throwing up a smokescreen, Mikami, I know what it is you’re worried about. We all know everyone was surprised when the two of you got married. They said it was one of the prefecture’s seven great wonders. I mean, you
were
in the same station, but not for long, and it wasn’t as though you worked together – she was in Traffic, you were in Criminal Investigations. The other men were genuinely amazed. All wondering what you’d done to get a girl like that. But the thing is,
you
don’t know what you did either. I’m right about this, aren’t I?’

Mikami felt his chest tighten.

‘I’m going to tell you what you did. When you were there, in that station together—’

‘You needn’t bother.’

‘Just hear me out, okay? One day, she went through a bad experience, and spent the whole night crying. But she didn’t drag the problem to work – you know how seriously she took being a policewoman. She put her feelings to one side, did her make-up and dragged herself, smiling, back into work. She greeted everyone normally, carrying on with her work as though nothing had happened. She took lunch with her workmates, chatting away without showing any signs of being down. So nobody noticed. Then, when she was on her way home, she happened to bump into you outside the side entrance. You gave her a funny look and said, ‘Are you okay?’ That was all you said. That was when she
started to take notice of you. She said she gave you a road-safety charm not too long after that.’

Mikami could only remember fragments. ‘That was just . . .’ he said without thinking. ‘That was just a wild guess. I probably just said it to get her attention, either that or I’m some kind of clairvoyant.’

‘This isn’t something to joke about. This is where you ask me the reason she spent the whole night crying, right?’

Mikami started coughing. ‘That’s enough, just stop,’ he finally managed.

‘No, it’s not enough. I can’t stop now I’ve said this much and broken my promise, anyway. What’s the point otherwise? And listen, it’s not what you’re thinking. But it’s not something you’d put in a wedding speech either. One of her friends committed suicide. A high-school friend, from the same year; they’d been in the calligraphy club together. The people in the club were close and continued to meet after they all moved on from the school. Anyway, the girl who killed herself did so leaving behind a scribbled note on her desk. “Don’t tell Minako.” That was all it said.’

‘
Don’t tell Minako?
That she was dead?’

‘Minako wondered if the message had been intended to keep her from going to the funeral. It really frightened the girl’s parents. They called Minako on the phone, asking if something had happened between them. But there hadn’t been anything, nothing at all. Minako had been busy, so they hadn’t even seen each other for a while. Yet the fact remained that she’d been mentioned by name. Her friend had died and left instructions to keep her in the dark – and she didn’t find out until the day of the wake. She still went, you know. It must have been torture. She told me she felt like an intruder the whole time. As though she’d been denied permission to grieve, even though she was suffering at having lost a friend. She left to go back to her dorm room without staying for the final rites; that was when she finally started crying.’

Mizuki’s rapid-fire voice broke off.

‘Did they find out the reason for the suicide? Had she left anything else?’

‘Nothing. She’d separated from her husband and was living by herself. They’d been married three years but had no kids. I don’t know why they ended up living apart, but it must have had something to do with her suicide. Her husband had been in the calligraphy club of a nearby boys’ school. They’d originally met during a summer getaway organized between the two clubs. They’d fallen in love and ended up getting married. From what I know, her husband was good-looking and smart, popular with the girls.

‘This next bit is just my own speculation, okay? He’d seen Minako during the same summer trip, and he’d fallen in love with her at first sight, so her friend had had to work hard to win him over. When they were first married she felt like she had all the happiness in the world. But then it started to go wrong, and she ended up by herself, started to think of suicide, and that was when she saw Minako. She wanted to leave something to get her own back. So she decided to leave that note.’

It sounded like more than empty speculation. ‘You think Minako . . . had something to do with their separation?’

‘Oh, come on, Mikami! What I’m trying to say is that having someone with Minako’s looks around all the time would have made the other girls uneasy. Even supposing the girl’s husband-to-be
hadn’t
fallen for Minako during their summer trip, she would still have been afraid that he would. She’d have been going crazy with the worry. Believe me, the majority of normal women have experienced that sort of thing. So do you see? She was fighting with
herself.
But she never realized it was all in her head. She set herself up against Minako, then she won her man and sealed her victory, ending up on a high that was ten times, a hundred times, greater than normal. Then everything fell apart . . . in just three years. I don’t know if it was something to do with him, or
something else entirely, but I know she would have had so many regrets; then I suppose she gave in to despair, and started to feel hostile towards a carefree, happy-looking Minako. So maybe she decided she wanted Minako to have a taste of her own suffering.’

Carefree? Happy?

‘Why would she assume Minako was—’

‘Minako wouldn’t have known any of this was going on, not at the start, not at the end. That’s why. She wouldn’t ever have considered that they were in competition, wouldn’t have known she’d lost any lead. She would have been genuinely happy for her friend’s marriage, never in a million years considering she’d lost anything. I’m sure her friend had no reason to feel the way she did. But I don’t think she could have left such a heartless note if she hadn’t got to the point of thinking that Minako had in some way pushed her into the marriage, and been responsible for the mess that followed. She would have wanted her husband to break down in tears at her funeral, feel the guilt, all the regret and the pain. She didn’t want Minako to share in their final meeting. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone to distract him from her, not even for a moment. I don’t know whether any of this is true or not, but it was still a horrible thing to do . . .’

Horrible, but understandable
. Mikami understood the implication. After a moment’s silence, Mizuki started to laugh.

‘Anyway, you shouldn’t take the last bit seriously. Just my imagination running wild. Pure fancy. All I’m trying to say is Minako’s special enough for that kind of thing to be true. Believe me, I had a hard time, too. It was a nightmare when she got out of police school and got posted to work for me. I thought:
Seriously? Why would someone like you want to be a policewoman? Do you want to test yourself, take pride in your job? Don’t you think you’re being a little greedy?
Back when she joined, women were still treated like mascots in the force, so we were all fighting for a little more recognition. Along comes Minako, the very definition of a mascot,
and we’re all crying that we don’t need any more women like that.

‘Of course, the truth was, we’d enjoyed being fussed over a little. That stopped quickly enough. The younger officers couldn’t take their eyes off Minako, and her bosses were clearly smitten, regardless of whether they were telling her off or complimenting her on a job well done. To be honest, we were beyond jealousy; most of the time it just felt like we’d had the wind taken out of our sails.’

Mizuki let out another chuckle. She’d realized she was straying from the point.

‘I’m only telling you this because of the circumstances – she was actually bullied at work. I was guilty of it, just a little. But she was strong. Took the nonsense in her stride. She lived for her job. More than most of the men, really. It was so impressive, to see someone so beautiful yet so totally unconscious of it. I realized she was a hard-working and decent person. Even then, it was difficult to feel close to her.