Paprika (22 page)

“Is something the matter?” asked Konakawa, looking in bewilderment at the clearly shaken Paprika.

“Would you wait a minute?” Paprika skipped back to the frame that was filled with Inui’s face, and printed it out.

“You can even do that?!” Konakawa was again impressed, though only mildly so.

“Let’s continue,” Paprika said as she restarted the picture.

Inui’s face also appeared to have come as a shock to Konakawa. Perhaps it was because Inui resembled his father. The dream ended there; Konakawa seemed to have woken up. After a little while, dreams started to return, but only in fragmentary snatches.

“You hardly slept at all, did you.” Paprika sighed. “This is serious. It’s only your physical strength that keeps you going. A normal person would be on their knees right now.”

Konakawa was immersed in thought as he stared at the printout of Inui’s face.

“What is it?” asked Paprika.

“You were surprised when you saw this face,” Konakawa replied. “You know him, don’t you?”

23

Konakawa was as taciturn as ever, leaving Paprika to unravel the latent meanings behind his dreams over breakfast.

“The jumbo jet was swaying quite badly, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Konakawa had no appetite. He was forcing himself to eat the eggs and bacon Paprika had prepared, simply because it would have been bad manners not to. “I don’t really travel in jumbo jets that much. But I know they don’t sway that badly.”

“I agree.”

Paprika waited for Konakawa to continue, but he was too busy chewing on a piece of bacon.

“Could it indicate some problem in your workplace?” she asked.

He smiled faintly. He did appear to know the elementary basics of psychoanalysis. “You mean the jumbo jet could represent the Metropolitan Police Department, for example?”

“Perhaps. And nobody seemed to notice it was swaying.”

“No.” Konakawa neither affirmed nor denied Paprika’s interpretation, but fell into thought.

With no clues to assist her analysis, Paprika reluctantly moved to the next point.

“A dog appeared briefly, didn’t it.”

“We had a dog when I was a child. I mean, my father did.”

“Was it the same dog as in the dream?”

“It was similar.”

“Were you fond of it?”

“Yes. But one day I took him out without asking, and he was hit by a car.”

“And died?”

Konakawa nodded.

“Oh dear.” Paprika tried to read his expression, but couldn’t tell whether he felt guilty about it or not. “Then we saw a scene related to some case you handled.”

“That’s right. I always forget about it when I wake up, but I do dream about that one,” Konakawa said in surprise. He almost sounded enthusiastic. “It was an unsolved murder. A domestic employee was killed in that big mansion in Hachioji. I often dream about unsolved cases. But the funny thing is, I never dream about cases I’ve solved.”

Paprika laughed. “You’re so obsessed with your work, you even try to solve cases in your sleep!”

“Oh?” Konakawa looked at Paprika straight-faced. “Is that what dreams are all about?”

“But of course. Dreams often provide clues to solving criminal cases. There have been numerous examples in the past.”

“Yes, I think I’ve heard of that.” Konakawa grew pensive again. “But I dreamt of a fire, didn’t I. There was no fire in that mansion.”

“Does a fire remind you of anything else?”

“I’ve never handled a case involving fire as such.” Naturally, he wanted to link everything to his work.

“It could have been a fire near your house. Any time in the past?”

“No. There’s never been such a thing.”

Konakawa was not one to volunteer information unless asked. The two drank coffee in silence for a few moments.

“You went to a party at an embassy, didn’t you.”

“Yes.”

“I wonder if that embassy actually exists somewhere.”

“No. I only thought so in the dream.”

“You have no memory of a building like that?”

“Not in particular. I may have seen it somewhere. Buildings like that aren’t uncommon.”

Paprika was astonished to realize that it was she who remembered seeing the building somewhere. What building was it? She would have to print that scene out too.

“Do you often go to parties?”

“No. Rarely. Though I’m often invited.” After a moment’s hesitation, Konakawa started to talk again, though only in halting phrases. “My wife goes in my place. She meets other people there. Then she gets invited to more.”

“You mean every night?”

“Well. Maybe not that often.” Konakawa grimaced.

“Is this a recent thing?”

“No. It started six or seven years ago.” Konakawa fixed Paprika with a look that said “
So that’s not the cause of my insomnia
.”

But Paprika wasn’t ready to let the subject go quite yet – particularly as Konakawa himself had raised it. “Did your wife have a hobby before that?”

In the absence of an answer from Konakawa, Paprika ventured a guess. “Was it reading?”

Konakawa lifted his face. “I see. Yes, there were a lot of books at the party, weren’t there. I wouldn’t call it a hobby, but she certainly did like reading in the old days. So are you saying I want her to stop going to parties and stay at home with her books, like before?” He laughed for a change.

“Quite probably.” Paprika shared his laughter. “By the way, what’s your wife’s family like?”

“Her father was a police officer,” Konakawa said with a hint of pride. “Just like my own.”

Paprika imagined how strict their upbringings must have been.

The conversation broke off again. Paprika was getting tired of reeling off questions; it was beginning to sound monotonous.

“Oh, I just remembered,” she said to change the mood. “I’ve got some Italian ham. Would you care for some?”

Paprika couldn’t fail to note the glint in Konakawa’s eye. He obviously didn’t lack a taste for good food. Perhaps the conversation had whetted his appetite.

Not only that, but eating seemed to enhance his interest in conversation. “Your dream analysis is quite fascinating,” he said between mouthfuls.

“Well … This is only the beginning. It gets more interesting from here on.”

“Noda says you can actually get into people’s dreams?”

“That’s right. Next time.”

“You know that face you printed out?” Konakawa said as he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. “I’ve no recollection at all of meeting that man. I’d really like to know why he appeared in my dream. Could you give me a copy? I’ll have him checked out.”

“By all means.” Paprika supposed that he meant to search the criminal records. But it all seemed so unlikely. What – Inui had committed some crime in the past, his details had been kept by the police, and this had somehow remained in the Chief Superintendent’s memory? Paprika stared long and hard at the printout of Inui’s face, which still lay on a corner of the table. It was not his usual face. He was smiling; his eyes were soft and warm. They had the look of love about them. Paprika had never seen anything approaching this expression on Inui’s face. The background couldn’t be seen, as the image was framed by the top of his forehead and the bottom of his beard.

“This is not the face of a criminal,” Konakawa declared after examining the printout.

Paprika held back a laugh. “Because he resembles your father?”

“Yes, that unforgiving look in his eye. And the mouth.”

“And did you notice that resemblance in the dream?”

“I can’t say. But I’m sure I didn’t think it was my father. The difference is too great.”

“Then you woke up immediately, didn’t you?”

Konakawa looked puzzled. “You’re saying the face reminded me of my father and the shock woke me?”

“I think so.”

“But why? I often dream of my father. It’s never been a shock.” Konakawa stared at the printout again.

“More coffee?”

“No, that’s fine.”

Paprika felt that was quite enough for the first session. “All right, I’ll give you the medication now. You must take the first dose right away.”

Paprika handed Konakawa one week’s supply of antidepressants.

“And the next session?” Konakawa said after taking a tablet.

“When would be convenient?”

“For me, as soon as possible. The quicker I’m cured the better,” Konakawa said sheepishly, as if suddenly ashamed of his earlier skepticism. As if he’d started to believe the effects of psychotherapy and was actually beginning to enjoy it.

“Let’s take a break tomorrow. How about the day after that?”

“Excellent. Should I come straight here, same time as last night?”

“Please do. I’ll notify security.”

“So … Is that all for today?”

“Yes. Being the first time, I think it’s a good place to stop.”

Konakawa looked around the room as if something were missing.

Paprika stifled another laugh. “What is it?”

“Did you, well,
discover
anything during this session? I mean, something that could be of use in my treatment?”

“What?! The dream analysis itself is the treatment. Don’t you feel better?”

“Oh, was that it?” Konakawa produced a bright, uncomplicated smile for the first time. “Yes, I feel much better. I was wondering why. I’ve never told anyone so much about myself.”

No, I’m sure you haven’t
, thought Paprika. “Actually, I wanted to ask a lot more. If I’m to analyze your dreams, I need to know as much about you as I can. But if I pried too much into your private life at the beginning, it would seem like an interrogation. I don’t think you’d feel comfortable with that.”

“I see. So it isn’t just criminals who feel better when they’ve confessed! Well, anyway, I’ll tell you a lot more next time.” Their eyes met; they smiled. Paprika felt herself being drawn to his personality.

“Do you have to be at work?” she asked as he rose.

“No. I’ll go home first.”

He might try to sleep again in his own bed. Perhaps he was feeling sleepy as a result of last night, now that he’d found some peace of mind. Perhaps it was because of Paprika’s unusually large breakfast. Or perhaps he just wanted to put his wife’s mind at rest. Paprika’s intuition as a therapist told her that Konakawa’s wife treated him with some contempt. Paprika bridled with the righteous indignation that single women often feel against the wives of likable married men.

Konakawa left Paprika’s apartment, seen off by a gorgeous smile he’d probably find hard to forget. She said she would enter his dreams, but what would she do then? He thought about it as he walked along the corridor toward the elevator hall. Each word uttered by that sweet girl started to return to him. She suggested that the swaying jumbo jet represented the Metropolitan Police Department. She was right. The Department was veering out of control. It was only he, the only one who didn’t belong to any clique, who could see that.

Paprika had said that dreams often provide clues to solving criminal cases. Maybe he’d received a clue to the Hachioji murder case in his dream that very morning. Yes, now he remembered – there
had
been a fire near the crime scene shortly after the murder, just when he was investigating it. Could the two perhaps have been connected? He would check it out.

As these and other thoughts flitted through Konakawa’s mind, he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. The elevator moved off, then stopped immediately at the fifteenth floor.

A young man stepped in. Konakawa was taken aback when he saw him. It had been a long time since he’d been overcome with such a nebulous feeling of guilt. The man had the classic good looks of a Grecian statue. The look in his eyes, the shape of his mouth reminded Konakawa uncannily of the man who’d appeared in his dream that night, the man whose picture he had in his jacket pocket –
what was his name, Inui or something –
except that he didn’t have a beard. He must also be an employee at the Institute, thought Konakawa. He might even be the son of the man in the dream.

The young man gave him a dubious look. Perhaps this building was out of bounds to all but the senior executives of the Institute and their families. Konakawa was again overcome by pangs of guilt. Yet he felt no need to explain his business here, or his identity. And in any case, the young man looked decidedly nervous whenever their eyes met.

24

Osanai’s first thought when he saw the man in the lift was that he must be a detective. He had that same look in his eyes as certain police officers who sometimes came to the Institute with neuroses caused by fatigue. But so much about this man suggested otherwise – his suit, with its fabric and cut of the very highest quality. His diffident manner. And his lack of expression, coupled with a certain nervousness when he saw Osanai.