A Quiet Place Read online

  He had of course asked Miyako the same question the moment he arrived home from Kobe the morning after Eiko’s death. But she’d had no answer.

  “Me? I’ve no idea what she was doing there. I assumed you’d know.”

  “No, she never mentioned it to me. You were there when she left the house, weren’t you? Didn’t she say where she was going?”

  “Not specifically. She said she was going to the Ginza area to do some shopping, then calling in on someone on the way back. She didn’t tell me any more than that, and I didn’t bother to ask.”

  “Eiko must have known someone up Yoyogi way. I’ve heard quite a bit about her friends from school, but I didn’t think any of them lived around there.”

  “It must have been one her haiku friends, then. She must have been on her way to their house. Or perhaps coming back.”

  “Maybe,” said Asai, still unconvinced. “She hasn’t been doing haiku for all that long, so I don’t know anyone from that group of friends.”

  “Why don’t I ask her haiku teacher? I think she’s coming to the wake.”

  Eiko’s haiku teacher had indeed turned up to the wake, along with five or six of Eiko’s fellow pupils. She was an elegant, full-figured lady with a striking head of silver hair. It had been the first time Asai had met her, and he’d been struck by her slightly husky voice.

  “Aoki-sensei says she doesn’t have any pupils who live in Yoyogi,” Miyako informed Asai, after the teacher had left. “Maybe Eiko wasn’t heading to Yoyogi at all, but just happened to pass through on her way to somewhere else.”

  Miyako didn’t seem particularly interested in why her sister had been in that part of town. She was probably right – Eiko must have simply been passing through.

  Eiko had used to go out about twice a week, and, occasionally, if it had been a while, two days in a row. Mostly it had been related to her haiku lessons, so she’d rarely gone out in the evening – it was almost always in the daytime, when Asai was at work.

  When Asai got home at night, Eiko would often tell him about her day. It wasn’t anything terribly interesting – haiku wasn’t really Asai’s thing – so he’d never listened all that carefully. It had been the same when she’d been studying traditional ballads or Japanese painting. It wasn’t his own hobby, so he’d been indifferent. Besides, she’d only been out of the house for three or four hours at a time and had always been back before Asai.

  But now, as he left Takahashi Cosmetics and turned to climb the steep slope, the need to know why Eiko had been walking up that very hill was suddenly overwhelming. Now that he was here in person, his mind was filled with misgivings.

  The road was lined with large houses; some old and some new. There were no other little shops like Takahashi Cosmetics – except one, which sold milk products.

  Eiko had been walking up this hill, in the same direction that he and Miyako were going now. He stared at the road ahead of him, the asphalt dazzling in the sunshine. His sister-in-law was a short distance behind him.

  Right where the road curved to the left they arrived at the highest point; beyond that, there was a steep drop. The houses below were much smaller, and from up here they seemed to tumble away together down the hill, roof after roof basking in the warm sunshine. Behind one of the fences, Asai could see a lone, scraggy peach tree, halfheartedly blooming. As they walked, the road continued to slope up and down.

  At the top of the next incline there was a side street. The building on the right-hand corner was the Hotel Tachibana, which Asai had seen from further down the hill. Viewed in broad daylight, the heavy neon sign, with its rusting frame, sat forlornly on the roof.

  A long concrete wall ran along the front of the hotel, with a thick row of evergreens beyond. There were also some late plum blossoms dotted in between. Asai could see a two-storey Japanese-style building, and a separate four-storey western-style one next to it. The gate was set back from the road, its posts made from thick, dark cedar trunks, their bark still intact. To the immediate right and left of the gate, the concrete wall briefly gave way to a bamboo fence. A path of stepping stones led away from the gate, set in a landscape of tiny black pebbles and lined by azaleas. The stepping stones were illuminated by a line of stone lanterns. Thick bamboo foliage concealed the entranceway to the building. Both the buildings and the garden had been designed to give the illusion of high-end elegance. A little further down there was a gap in the wall serving as a car-park entrance.

  It took only a single glance for Asai to imagine the kind of clientele such a place would attract. Looking down the road to the right, it was hard to miss a second building sporting a large neon sign – this time the symbol for a hot-spring bathhouse.

  Asai wondered what kind of street he’d stumbled upon, and turned to look behind him. Miyako was walking a good distance behind, her eyes fixed on the ground, perhaps because she too had spotted the dubious hotel. Asai was about to call out to her, but hesitated and instead turned right onto the little side street, heading downhill.

  He heard the sound of a car behind him. The street was narrow as well as steep, forcing Asai and Miyako to stop and move as far to the side of the road as possible. A white, medium-sized saloon passed them. In the driver’s seat was a middle-aged man wearing a leather jacket; in the passenger seat, a young woman in a red coat. The woman had one arm around the man’s shoulder. Asai pictured the car park entrance at the Tachibana.

  On Monday morning, Asai happened to be walking down one of the ministry’s corridors, about to deliver some documents, when he met Director-General Shiraishi coming from the opposite direction. They were right in front of the minister’s secretariat, but today there were hardly any petitioners from the business sector. The whole floor seemed to be deserted.

  Asai halted and waited for Shiraishi to notice him. The heavily built figure approached, and stopped in front of him.

  “Hello there!” Mr Shiraishi looked sympathetically at Asai. “I’m sorry. You must be feeling awfully lonely these days.”

  Mr Shiraishi had visited Asai to offer his condolences. As soon as the customary forty-nine days had passed, Asai intended to return the call and offer the appropriate thank-you gift. On his very first day back at work after the funeral, he had already made sure to pay a call to the director general’s office and thank him for his kindness.

  “Well, it was rather sudden, so I suppose I’m still finding it hard to take in.”

  “Yes, I suppose so… I can see that it would be.”

  It was clear that the director general had some kind of pressing business. In fact, the expression on his face suggested that he had run into Asai at an inopportune moment. But given the nature of the conversation, a few casual words in passing wouldn’t have been enough. He’d been forced to stop and talk, and now he couldn’t escape.

  “I must thank you, sir, for all your thoughtfulness. I’m so sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you… Well, please don’t let me keep you.”

  Asai bowed deeply.

  “Yes, well, er… keep your chin up.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The director general strode away.

  When he guessed Shiraishi was a fair distance away, Asai turned to look. His manager was standing in front of the lifts, staring at the floor indicator. When he was all by himself, he looked like a complete nobody. Among a crowd of his subordinates or hangers-on, he had the air of the consummate director general. Clearly he was good at faking it. Next to the undersecretary, in the presence of the Cabinet Minister himself, or when he was alone he looked helpless, definitely not someone you could depend on – in fact, no different from one of the guards who stood at the ministry’s main entrance. In other words, anyone could have done his job. It seemed all that was necessary was to graduate from an elite university and to get placed on the elite track along with all your fellow chosen ones; all destined to be future top executives. After that, all you had to do was to successfully ride that wave between the mainstream and other politic
al currents, and you had it made.

  Asai had been back in his office about an hour when someone came up beside his desk and gave a quick bow. Looking up, he saw Mr Yagishita from the Kobe Food Manufacturers’ Association.

  “Good morning, Mr Asai.”

  Yagishita’s expression was unusually humble. It was probably because this was the first time he had seen Asai since his business trip to Kobe, and he wanted to express his condolences. Asai swivelled around in his chair.

  “Hello. When did you get here?”

  For some reason, Asai pictured Director-General Shiraishi’s face as he spoke.

  “Just this morning, around eleven.” Yagishita then proceeded to offer Asai the traditional phrases of condolence in his Kansai regional dialect. When he’d finished speaking, Asai responded in the appropriate manner.

  “Thank you. You really were a great help to me… Er, Mr Yagishita, do you have time right now? I’d like to grab a cup of tea downstairs.”

  “If you’re not too busy, I’d be happy to join you.”

  They headed to the staff canteen in the basement. It wasn’t quite lunchtime, so there were very few ministry employees around. However, at a few of the tables there were groups of manufacturers or traders sitting with the member of staff handling their case.

  Before taking his seat, Yagishita placed both hands on the table and bowed his head once more.

  “Once again, I’m so sorry for your unexpected tragedy.”

  “I’m ever so grateful that you took so much trouble to pay your respects.”

  Yagishita had sent his firm’s Tokyo business manager to attend Eiko’s wake and funeral on his behalf. And he’d contributed a very generous 50,000 yen in condolence money.

  “Oh, you’re welcome. I really should have come up myself, but you know how swamped it can get at work. Anyway, I’m here today for all the preparations we have left to get the new Kanto area factory up and running. I’m so sorry to bother you with all my own stuff.”

  “That’s all right. How’s it going out at Higashi Murayama? Is the plant in operation yet?”

  “Yes, I’m glad to say. Thanks to all your help, we’ve somehow managed to get it going.”

  Yagishita had recently acquired a small ham-processing plant out to the west of Tokyo and remodelled the whole facility, establishing a Tokyo branch of the Yagishita Ham Manufacturing Corporation. Asai had been involved in the approval process.

  “We’ve finished installing the new machinery and expanding the facilities. It all passed inspection, so we’re going to begin operations three days from now.”

  “Congratulations! How many employees do you have?”

  “About ten people have come up from Osaka, and we’ve taken on about twenty from the staff of the old place. Now we’re busy filling all the rest of the vacancies.”

  “You’re quite the old pro, aren’t you?”

  “Thanks for the compliment. As you know, competition in the industry is pretty fierce. There’s no knowing how the Tokyo expansion is going to turn out.”

  “So are you busy this evening?”

  “Ah, I, um, already made plans,” Yagishita replied, a little uncomfortably. Once again the image of Director-General Shiraishi standing by the elevators popped into Asai’s head.

  “I see,” he said, carefully stirring his coffee. “By the way, thank you for helping me out back in Kobe. How did it go after that?”

  “After you left? Well, there was quite a commotion.” As he recounted the story, Yagishita became very animated. “When everyone heard that your wife had passed away, they were floored. They all said it was typical of you not to make a fuss and to leave so discreetly. ‘That’s just like Mr Asai,’ they said. They were full of admiration.”

  “Thank you; it was nothing. Simply the right thing to do in the circumstances.”

  Asai took a sip of coffee before continuing.

  “But that wasn’t what I meant.” He adjusted the tone and level of his voice. “I asked you to look after Shiraishi for me. I just wanted to know that everything went off without a hitch.”

  “Oh, you mean that?”

  Yagishita gave Asai a meaningful look and stuck out his little finger in the gesture for “girlfriend”. “Yes, that went very well,” he said, grinning.

  Asai remembered the round-cheeked geisha from the drinks party. The way that Yagishita had confidently assured him that he could take care of the director general suggested that she must have been a woman of rather loose morals, but in Asai’s opinion she was still much too good for Shiraishi.

  “Mr Asai?”

  Yagishita interrupted Asai’s musings.

  “Does Director-General Shiraishi have any plans for another trip to Kansai?” he asked, grinning.

  “No, I’ve not heard of any. He’s only just got back from the last one.”

  Asai had answered unthinkingly, but then he caught something in Yagishita’s expression.

  “You heard something from him directly, huh?”

  “No, no. Mr Shiraishi didn’t say anything specifically – it was just my own guess.”

  “He really liked Kobe, did he?”

  Yagishita grinned some more. “Well, yes. So it seems. And for us manufacturers it’d be an honour to have the director general visit regularly.”

  “I suppose it’d be possible. Then you’ll need to start working on an invitation to Mr Shiraishi – invite him to conduct another inspection tour of the Kansai region or something.”

  Yagishita’s smile was blinding.

  “Obviously we’ll make all the necessary arrangements at our end, but that’s not going to be enough to get the director general to go for it. That part’s going to be up to you, Mr Asai. If you could lay all the proper groundwork…”

  “I suppose if he’s already amenable to the idea, then I could sort something out.”

  “Do you think you’d be able to accompany him again?”

  “Me? I don’t think so. It was my turn last time. It’s bound to be someone else the next time. There are other section chiefs, you know. And then there are assistant division chiefs, division chiefs and so on… There’s no shortage of qualified people.”

  “I’ll make sure that the manufacturers’ association puts in a request for you to come too. And I think it’s good for Mr Shiraishi to have someone he already knows. I mean, you’d been right there by his side the whole time up until that dinner party. And besides, I gave him the heads-up that we were the ones who arranged that geisha for him.”

  Asai grimaced. “You told him about that?”

  “If I hadn’t told him, he would have hesitated to go with her.”

  “You think so?”

  “Of course. And hearing that, he knows you were taking good care of him. I’m sure he sees you in a more favourable light now.”

  “Thanks for looking out for me.”

  “So next time Mr Shiraishi needs to appoint himself an assistant, he’ll think of you straight away. I’ll set it up with the manufacturers’ association.”

  Before Asai could reply, Yagishita’s balding forehead leaned in closer.

  “Mr Asai, why don’t you visit Kobe for a bit of fun? I’m sorry if it’s inappropriate to make that kind of suggestion right after your wife has passed away.”

  Asai didn’t know what to say.

  “These kinds of trips don’t come along every day. And last time you had to leave before things really got interesting. That was such a pity.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Here everyone’s watching you, but down in Kobe you’ll be away from prying eyes. And it’s not as if you sleep with a woman at the restaurant or your own hotel; you go by car to an out-of-the-way place – an inn or a couples’ hotel. Then no one’s around to see you.”

  “Are there a lot of hotels like that in Kobe?”

  “Sure. There are plenty of quiet places around Suma or Akashi. It’s handy – you can even rent a room in the daytime.”

  “Do you go to p
laces like that?”

  “No. Me, I only do it at night.”

  Asai couldn’t look at Yagishita’s laughing face without seeing the gateway to the Hotel Tachibana.

  5

  It wasn’t Yagishita’s description of the couples’ hotels near Kobe that put the idea into Asai’s head. Since Eiko’s death, there had been the little germ of an idea attached to the inner wall of his brain. Ever since he had seen the Tachibana’s neon sign on top of that hill in Yoyogi, the germ had detached itself and begun to spawn, the black specks swirling around his brain and finally coming to rest right behind his eyes. These shadows blocked all outside light. The moment he heard Yagishita’s story, they began to crawl over his eyes like squirming black insects, and he was spurred into action.

  Eiko’s weak heart had barely caused her any problems in her day-to-day life. As long as she didn’t overexert herself, there were no noticeable symptoms, and she had been able to forget there was anything wrong with her at all. Still, she’d taken it upon herself to be careful not to break into a run, pick up very heavy objects, or to get upset enough to fly into a rage. She was afraid that if she had an unexpected traumatic experience or heard shocking news, or even resumed her sex life, any of these might have caused her to have a heart attack.

  The road in Yoyogi was an uphill slope, and Eiko had hated walking uphill. Asai knew this, and knew it had been one of her ways of protecting her heart. So why had she been there? The proprietor of Takahashi Cosmetics had been certain that she had been heading in that direction when she’d staggered into the shop, her face white as a sheet.

  Normally, Eiko would have talked to him about all of her outings, but she’d never mentioned that part of the city. So perhaps that day had been the first time she’d ever been there. Or she’d been there before but purposely not told him about it.

  If Eiko had been trying to hide something, it might explain why she’d been walking up that street. At the top sat the Hotel Tachibana, with the neon sign on its roof. If she’d been heading there, she would have had to take that route – the kind of uphill road that she normally avoided. There was no other way up to the hotel.