The Flower Master (Rei Shimura #3) (33 page)

He was on the telephone, pacing around a striking dining table carved from a single huge slab of oak. He was wearing jeans, like his sister, and his Greenpeace T-shirt.

"I understand that you're twenty kilometers away. You've just got to come." His voice had a hint of desperation. I must have made a sound, because he looked up at me. To my surprise, he motioned for me to come in and close the door. I sat down on the edge of a black leather chaise longue and listened. "I need sashimi, twenty platters of your best. I know this is an inconvenience. I'll pay extra." Pause. "Do you have chirashizushi? No? What else could you do on short notice?"

At that moment I knew why he and Natsumi were in jeans and the house wasn't ready. They hadn't known any guests were coming. Aunt Norie had commented on the unusual RSVP procedure. She had written it off to unrest at Kayama School headquarters. But it was obvious that someone who hated the Kayamas had sent the invitations and arranged for an answering service outside the school to take the RSVPs. Furthermore, the invitations had been mailed during the weekend, so there would be no danger of anyone chatting about it at headquarters. The event had been planned so that the Kayama family would not see it coming.

After he finished the call, Takeo put the telephone down. "Maybe I should call McDonalds. Do they deliver?"

"I don't know," I said.

Takeo leaned against the wall and shut his eyes. He spoke as if in a trance. "This is a disaster. I can only imagine how many dozens more will arrive. I could kill my father for doing this to me!"

"Save your energy," I said, getting up and going over to him. "It's not his fault. I don't know whose it is yet, but I've a sense that's why we're all here. To find out."

Before I earned a B.A. from Johns Hopkins and an M.A. from Berkeley, my top qualification was a Girl Scout badge for emergency preparedness. I recalled the stay-calm, deep-breathing part while dealing with Takeo. I decided that now was not the time to hit him over the head with the unhappy news that his father was carrying on with Lila Braithwaite. I let him rant about how horrible it had been when guests had started arriving an hour ago, when he had been peacefully working on a compost pile, and Natsumi had been painting her toenails in the living room.

"As the flower master designate, you can be as eccentric as you'd like," I told him. "Make them believe that you purposely were working outside and dressed in a Greenpeace T-shirt to communicate the message of the school's new green policy."

"There's no green policy," Takeo said, drinking from the Doraemon tumbler that I'd filled with a bracing mixture of vodka and tonic.

"You are the next master," I repeated. "It's your duty to inform us about the direction the school is taking. And saying something from your heart about the school's future commitment to the environment might actually save the evening."

"You're crazy!"

"Not as crazy as your friends. I suspect that Stop Killing Flowers is planning something so major that they assembled all of us to be their audience."

"But I gave them money! They were supposed to stay away from the school."

"Blackmail never works. When shopkeepers pay gangsters protection money, the fee always goes up. But in your case, the stake is something you care about. Right?"

Takeo didn't answer me. He seemed mesmerized by the crowd, which had swelled to about a hundred. A young deliveryman with dyed yellow hair and an earring was unloading cases of sake and beer.

"Sir, won't you stay to help serve?" Natsumi flashed cleavage along with her mournful expression as she bent to help him.

"Sorry, but that's impossible. I'm on duty," the deliveryman stammered.

"I'll make sure that you're well paid," Natsumi purred. "If it's a matter of calling your employer, I'd be happy to do that."

"Well . . . maybe for a little while." The man stepped behind the table and unscrewed the cap of a bottle.

"Good work, Natsumi-san." I shot her an appreciative look that she didn't acknowledge. I guessed that she was still angry about her visit to my apartment. I decided to reassure her brother instead.

"Things are going to be fine," I told him. "Just greet your guests and try to relax so that you can make a good speech in the next hour."

"Please don't leave." Takeo gripped me by the arm as I started off.

"I just need to find a telephone. Is there one in a more private location than this?"

"Upstairs. We have one in each bedroom."

As Takeo and I headed upstairs together, we had to pass Aunt Norie standing in the hallway with her friend Eriko. Eriko smiled, but my aunt looked venomous.

"Rei-chan, don't you remember what I told you?" Norie was acting as if we were going upstairs for a quickie.

"I'm just making a telephone call," I said and hurried on before she could find another reason for keeping me.

Takeo showed me into a charming small bedroom with exposed stone walls on two sides and a fireplace, which was a very unusual feature for a Japanese home. I knew it was his room from the stacks of environmental magazines on the floor. A calligraphy scroll that looked like his mother's work hung in an alcove above a vase of bittersweet.

"For propriety's sake, maybe I should call from another room," I suggested.

"Oh, is that what your aunt's so upset about?" Takeo asked. "She thinks I'm like my father!"

I nodded, embarrassed because I now understood that he knew about his father's relationships.

"You have the same opinion." Takeo sounded bitter. "That's why you ran out on me the other night. You think I'm some sort of cad."

"Just let me use the phone, please." I knew that I sounded brusque, but now was not the time to go into my own confused feelings for Takeo. I resolutely turned my back on him and picked up the telephone receiver. By the time I'd reached Lieutenant Hata's home, Takeo had slipped out.

* * *

"You're calling me on Sunday? The only day of the week that I don't have to work?" Lieutenant Hata grumbled after his wife put him on.

"Emergencies don't keep to a weekday schedule," I whispered. "Do you think you could make it to the Kayamas' cherry blossom viewing party? I can't give you directions, but maybe somebody on the police force here could help you find the Kayama family estate. It's in Izu."

"That's the other problem, Miss Shimura! My territory is Roppongi, not the wilds of the Izu Peninsula."

"Please listen. This is serious."

Lieutenant Hata listened while I explained about the surprise party that I suspected had been orchestrated by Stop Killing Flowers. But at the end he sighed and said, "As far as this party goes, it sounds like a comedy of errors. And we already know SKF's big plan."

"What—what are they doing?"

"They are holding a festival in the Yanaka Cemetery with mariachi bands, mimes, and various other entertainers. Che Fujisawa is giving away free organic cherry tree seedlings and asking people to sign a petition. I saw a story about the festival on the television news, and it looks like a fine event. The group is collecting plenty of signatures, and three senior politicians made a surprise appearance and have pledged to sponsor legislation calling for safe flower imports."

So Che's big surprise had been politicians? This was the secret Richard had kept from me? I was irate but not ready to give up. Trying to sound reasonable, I said, "You make it obvious that I'm wrong about Stop Killing Flowers putting on this party. But I still think it's a dangerous situation. Why would somebody have brought together everyone from Sakura's death scene? Could we be waiting for somebody new to die?"

Lieutenant Hata was silent for a minute. "Are the guests eating anything?"

"There is no food. People are complaining mightily about that. However, some sashimi is going to be delivered, and I suppose an evil person could sprinkle something on it." I played up the last few words, hoping it would make an impact.

"I'll call the district commander in Izu. But you must understand that the peninsula is large, and you've not given me much information about the location of the Kayama estate. I can't promise that the local police will make a trip to this party. Without a crime having been committed, the only way I can interest them is by saying someone called me to make a report of excessive noise and unruly behavior. Miss Shimura, would you agree that there is excessive noise and bad behavior at this party?"

I understood my cue. "Absolutely there is." So what if the guests were mostly in their fifties and extremely unlikely to swing from the rafters? Since the liquor delivery, the party had gotten slightly louder.

"Don't drink too much, and please give me the number there so I can check in on you."

As I recited the telephone number to him, I heard the clicking sound of somebody hanging up a telephone. Either the officer's wife had listened to our conversation, or somebody in the Kayama house had.

"Do you know where your wife is?" I asked Lieutenant Hata.

"Certainly. She is sitting at the table with me, shaving a bonito fish to use in our evening meal. Why do you ask, Miss Shimura?"

"Ah . . ." I didn't want to say that I thought some- body was eavesdropping. "I look forward to seeing the police force," I said, and hung up.

Downstairs I passed Takeo standing in the hall with Mari Kumamori.

"I want you to take the teacher's test again," Takeo was telling her. And perhaps you would be kind enough to consider letting me borrow a few of your containers for an exhibit this fall."

"Oh, no!" Mari breathed in sharply, but although her words were negative, her face was filled with delight. "My work is so awful!"

"I think it's in the vanguard. With our school's growing commitment to the environment, pottery with natural glaze is perfect. He changed focus from Mari to me as I passed him and stepped down into the entryway to put on my zari. "Please don't leave, Rei."

"I'm just going outside for a little while. Don't worry. I'll be back." Feeling like Arnold Schwarzenegger, I decided it was too bad that I had to step into my one-inch-high sandals instead of combat boots.

The line of parked cars stretched out for an eighth of a mile. The vehicles were mostly Japanese sedans, although there were a few trendy sport utility vehicles. I walked in the dark along the line of cars, examining the line of the guests still arriving. We all nodded at one another or made half bows. I didn't recognize any school employees.

The path curved around the back toward the ring of cherry trees. In between the trees were decorative stone lanterns and small boulders. The Garden of Stones appeared to be a hybrid of classic Zen gardening and American landscape design. I saw my relatives and moved in for a quick read on the situation.

"I don't care about the flowers," Uncle Hiroshi was grumbling to Norie. "I just want something to eat. Where is the chirashizushi you promised they would serve?"

I came between them. "The food will come. There was nothing on hand because this whole party was unplanned."

"But how can that be?" Hiroshi asked.

"Somebody sent invitations for all of us to come, but the Kayama family didn't know."

"Who would do such a thing? To have guests when a house is not ready and food is unprepared is ...a humiliation!" Aunt Norie said. Eriko leaned in from a nearby conversation and nodded in agreement.

"We don't know who did it," I said. "The important thing is not to let too many people know, because then they'd all feel bad for being here. Takeo has ordered some food to be delivered. It would be a great kindness if you would help put the dishes into something resembling a buffet when it all comes." I didn't add the request to stay and watch the food because I knew that would come naturally to her.

"Of course. It will be thrown together, but it shouldn't look too bad. I know exactly where the china is and how I should serve. " Norie paused. "Is this why you went upstairs a little while ago? To help Takeo make a plan to save the evening?"

I nodded.

"You are a good girl."

Peace restored, I walked back out to the driveway and then down a stone path curving toward a small white plaster outbuilding. When I came close, I realized that it was probably the kura, the storehouse used for family treasures. A vehicle was parked in front. When I walked closer, I stopped. It wasn't the Range Rover, but a black Nissan truck.I moved to the hood, which was giving off some light pinging sounds, as if the ignition had been recently turned off. The hood was warm. The zari made me a bit taller, so I could see into the truck. In the pale light from the lanterns in the trees, I could make out the objects on the passenger seat: a fishing net, a ladder, and a few folded pink paper lanterns. So this vehicle belonged to the person who'd decorated the driveway. Now the secret party-giver might be inside the kura stealing the Kayama family's treasures.

I wasn't reckless enough to go in, but there was something I could do. I took out Aunt Norie's camera and snipped a picture of the items on the car seat and then one of the rear of the truck, making sure that the license plate was included. Then l headed back toward the house, wishing that I had a flashlight. The woods around the house seemed unbelievably desolate. I was probably only fifty yards from the house, but nobody could see me.

I walked fast and was relieved when I came close enough to the house to see other guests leaving their cars. I hadn't seen a single Kayama School staff person at the party; not Mrs. Koda, nor Miss Okada, nor any of the other important teachers or office ladies I'd seen at the headquarters. Certainly not Masanobu Kayama. Perhaps he was storming around his Tokyo penthouse, wondering how to punish me for discovering him and Lila.

Could Lila, who was absent, be with him now? Had she masterminded the whole party in order to ruin Takeo's chance to take over the school? If so, that would mean she wanted to manrry his father and make her own children the new heirs. No. It wasn't worth anything to be trapped in the Kayama family. Lila probably liked her affair just the way it was.

I entered the Kayama house close on the heels of a guest I recognized as the party page editor for the Tokyo Weekender. If a candid description of the party ended up in the biweekly tabloid, it would be devastating to the Kayamas. I went in resolutely and exchanged my shoes for slippers under Natsumi's gaze. As I stepped up on the polished floor, she grabbed my wrist. After the editor and his entourage passed into the main room, she said, "I want you to go upstairs, take off your kimono, and give it to me."