The Kizuna Coast: A Rei Shimura Mystery (Rei Shimura Mysteries Book 11) (14 page)

I looked at him and sighed inwardly. What a marked change from the selfish way Morioka-san had spoken earlier. Perhaps he’d finally felt the light, unexpected touch of
kizuna
.

It was about five o’clock when we said goodbye to Mr. Morioka and began our walk toward the Sugihama volunteer headquarters two miles from the shopping district. Mr. Ishida wanted to talk more about Mayumi.

“She’s really quite a gifted artist. When we find her, I’m looking forward to your seeing some of her work.”

“I’d like to see it. I heard from Okada-san her family makes lacquer?”

“Yes, and it’s still her art form, which is exciting. Her family makes traditional objects like boxes, tea bowls, and plates, but she has taken to decorating wooden buttons with beautiful lacquer designs. She would like to sell them directly to clothing designers and shoemakers. But her parents didn’t like that idea so much.”

“Why not?”

He paused. “Before I explain that—I’ll tell you how I met her,” he said.

“Yes. I was wondering how you came to hire her.” I tried to keep the suspicion out of my voice.

“I was at the Roppongi shrine sale one Sunday morning last spring. I always arrive very early, and this time I noticed a young lady with some very fine Aizu lacquerware spread on a quilt before her. Of course, this young lady was Mayumi.”

“Oh, so she was selling for another dealer?”

“Not quite. First, I asked the prices. I was startled that she knew the pieces’ age and provenance quite well—yet was asking far too little money.”

“Do you mean it was too much of a bargain?”

“Exactly. To sell at those prices would have been a big mistake. I convinced her to put everything back in the little cloth bags they came in and bring them to my shop for a formal appraisal.”

“You were extremely kind to suggest that to her.”

“When we were talking inside the shop, the truth emerged,” Mr. Ishida said. “She confessed the lacquer came from her family who lived in Tohoku. She’d had an argument with her parents and taken their heirlooms away when she moved to Tokyo.”

“What was the argument about?”

“They wanted her to stay at home and continue learning the lacquer craft as an apprentice, making the style of lacquerware that was profitable for them. Instead, she wanted to study at Geidai, the arts university, where she could take a modern-art approach to lacquer.

“Mayumi had secretly applied to the school and been admitted, but her parents refused to let her attend. She rationalized taking the lacquer by believing she would eventually inherit it, and she needed the goods now. If she sold everything, she thought she’d have enough for one school year. That was quite naïve. There were twenty pieces, so actually, she could have paid for much more than an arts education.”

I was unable to let go. “But the parents hadn’t given her any of it, right? The police could pursue her for theft.”

“She thinks her parents didn’t take police action because they didn’t want her to be convicted of a crime. However, her parents sent a message to her mobile phone saying that her name had been stricken from the family register. And that made her feel depressed.”

So maybe Mayumi’s conscience had returned—albeit, a little too late. I said, “I don’t believe in disowning family members, but I very much understand the parents’ anger. She’d taken their history: something they’d passed on for many generations that was even more emotionally important because they are still working in lacquer. And she would do a thing like sell it off?”

“But the collection’s still safe,” Mr. Ishida reminded me. “I said that if she needed money for school, I’d give her a part-time job, although it could take a few years to reach her goal of school tuition. I also convinced her to let me keep her family lacquer in the shop’s safe for the time being, while she thought a bit more about the situation.”

“Um, I checked the safe when I was in your store, but all I saw inside was some papers.”

“There should have been many cloth pouches holding lacquer, all stored within a cedar box.”

“An empty cedar box,” I said. “That I saw.”

“Oh, that is terrible news. ” He gazed off into the distance for a moment. “Someone must have broken in! Okada-san always told me to put in an alarm, but I thought Hachiko was enough.”

“When’s the last time you checked the safe?” I asked.

“About a month ago, when I put something else in temporarily. A month or six weeks ago?”

“So we don’t know when the lacquer was taken—and whether Hachiko was there or not. She’s a friendly dog to most people. And unfortunately, your combination is easy to guess.”

“I don’t think so. It’s a combination of numbers only of personal significance to me.”

“The combination is the date your father founded the business. That information is embossed on a plaque mounted on the building’s exterior.”

Mr. Ishida was silent for a moment, then shook his head. “I didn’t think about that. But it’s true, with the information outside, anyone might know. Maybe someone guessed who frequents the area and figured out that I was away. Someone like the boy with rooster hair!”

“Let me tell you what I noticed,” I said, not wanting him to vanish on a tangent. “If a burglar came, he—
or she
—passed up many obviously valuable things such as the jade you keep in that glass case. So it wasn’t a smart burglar, right? Or else the burglar was someone who was only after that lacquer.”

“Are you suggesting Mayumi? She would never do something like that without telling me—”

“We don’t know that. She was with you for less than a year.”

“The only reason I could think of her taking out the lacquer was because she wanted to return it to her parents. Yes, doesn’t that make sense? If she was joining me in Tohoku, she might have taken it out because she wanted to return it to them.”

“Did you ever contact Mayumi’s parents to let them know you had the lacquer?” I felt like I was losing my breath under the mask. I was growing tired from the trash-strewn, uphill climb and the reshuffling of ideas.

“No. I did call them from the injured persons’ shelter on March thirteenth, hoping that Mayumi had somehow made it to their home. But they said not, and I believe they’re looking all over for her, too.”

“And during this conversation, the fact that you’d been holding the lacquer safely for them, was never mentioned?” I was suddenly very worried for Mr. Ishida, because he could be accused of being an accomplice to theft.

“I saw no reason to say anything about the lacquer. Their daughter had disappeared, which was enough of a shock. I told them that I really did try to convince Mayumi-chan that she didn’t need to bring my
inkan,”
Mr. Ishida continued in a miserable tone
.
“Mayumi told me it was such a short day trip, that it was no problem. She said she’d phone my friend Okada-san, who owns the
senbei
shop, if she had any delay returning. Therefore I had no worries about Hachiko’s care.”

“Okay. I still think we should talk to her parents, just in case they’ve located her and neglected to call you. Did you happen to know the name of their lacquer business?”

“No, but her father’s name is Shosuke Kimura. He’s quite well known, and their town is called Kinugasa. There are a number of Kinugasa towns in Japan, and this one is a magnet for lacquer artists.”

I reached into my messenger bag, fingers searching for the familiar cool steel of the cell phone. I touched my wallet, lots of receipts, a granola bar, and a MAC lipstick. Feeling frantic, I dug into my coat pockets, and then all the pockets of my jeans. It was pointless. My cell phone was nowhere to be found.

“I
can’t find it.” I told myself that there was no reason for panic. This wasn’t the first time I’d lost a cell phone; it wasn’t like losing a person. It was a hassle, but I’d live through it.

“Your phone is missing? Perhaps you left it at Morioka-san’s auction house.” Mr. Ishida grimaced in sympathy.

“It might have slipped and fallen when I grabbed up my bag and ran after you leaving the shelter,” I said, mentally retracing my actions. “Or during the jeep ride. I wouldn’t have heard it fall if it landed in mud. Oh, and even if I do recover it, the moisture will probably have destroyed it.”

“What a shame,” Mr. Ishida said. “We should tell Mr. Morioka, in case he finds it.”

“Really, the worst thing is that I won’t know when Michael arrives. His employer is sending him to Tokyo to work with different people on the meltdown problem.”

“That sounds like valuable work. And don’t worry—I can help with those phone communications. My phone is surely still in my bag.”

As Mr. Ishida bent his head to examine his phone, I heard the groaning sound of a large vehicle approaching. Pulling up alongside was a long white truck painted with a
tanuki,
a Japanese wild animal similar to a raccoon, on the side. The
tanuki
was believed to be a crafty creature, and this version wore a pair of overalls and held a saw. The
hiragana
type on the side of the truck said
Tanuki Carpentry.

“Shimura-san! Are you going to the volunteer headquarters? I can take you,” a strong young male voice called out.

Leaning out the driver’s window was Akira Rikyo, the friendly young man I’d met on the bus ride.

“Thanks a lot. As long as there’s room for two.” As I spoke, I felt a sudden squeeze of my right arm. I glanced at Mr. Ishida, concerned that he might be losing balance. He was fine but was regarding Akira with a shocked expression.

“Ishida-san, this is my friend Rikyo Akira, who came back from Tokyo to help his parents. Rikyo-san, how are you and your parents managing?”

“Thanks for asking—as well as can be expected.” His voice was as rough as the long beams of wood in the truck’s open back. It seemed his Tohoku accent had strengthened in the time since we’d spoken on the bus. “We had the cremation ceremony and funeral for my sister and nieces yesterday. Now it’s back to work.”

Mr. Ishida bowed his head slightly and said, “I’m very sorry for your loss. It’s kind of you to stop, but we won’t trouble you for a ride. The volunteer headquarters is close.”

“Oh, is that so?” Akira paused, sounding uncertain. “Well, see you later.”

I’d expected Akira to protest. Instead, he put the truck in gear and accelerated away from us a bit too quickly, so that mud spun out from the backs of the tires as he left.

Shaking my head, I said, “I wish you hadn’t turned him down. It’s still got to be a half mile or so to the shelter.”

“It’s a bad idea for us to ride with him,” Mr. Ishida said in a tight voice. “Anything might happen.”

As if on cue, an aftershock roiled the ground beneath us. I grabbed Mr. Ishida’s torso to keep him from falling. We held each other, the ground buckling, and I prayed no fault line would swallow us up. I wanted to scream, but I held back, gasping instead.

The terrifying tremor was about a minute. When it finally subsided, I waited for my heartbeat to slow. “What did you mean when you said anything might happen? Did you have a premonition a tremor was coming and not want to be in the truck?”

“I didn’t want to get in the truck because I don’t trust that fellow.”

“But I’ve talked to him for
hours
,” I protested. “And I worry we hurt his feelings, maybe acting like we were too good to ride in the truck. By offering us that ride, he was only trying to show
kizuna
—”

“I recognize him from Tokyo,” Mr. Ishida said tersely. “I mentioned to you a suspicious young man with hair like a rooster? He’s the one.”

“Akira’s hair does stand up a bit, but he doesn’t do anything with folk craft or antiques. There must be someone else for whom you’re mistaking him.”

“I recognized the name, too. Rikyo Akira is Mayumi’s old boyfriend from high school.”

“But that’s amazing. If there’s such a connection—and he’s local—maybe he can help us look for Mayumi. After we call her parents to double-check whether she’s been found, of course.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Mr. Ishida’s voice was uncharacteristically sharp. “Mayumi disliked him! She was always trying to avoid him.”

I paused, letting this sink in. Suddenly, I remembered Hachiko growling at Akira on the bus. Maybe she’d been trying to tell me something, and I’d been too jet-lagged to notice.

Carefully, I asked, “Are you saying Akira is a stalker?”

Mr. Ishida put his head to one side, as if considering the idea. “I can’t make that judgment. But Mayumi asked Rikyo to please leave the shop each time he stopped in. And it wasn’t that she was merely irritated by the attention. It seemed like something more.”

“Something like?” I asked, because he’d fallen into silence.

“Something like fear.”

A
fter what Mr. Ishida said about Akira, I began questioning myself a bit more.

Akira had jumped on the volunteer bus at the last minute with no luggage. Had he been underprepared because he’d noticed me going into Ishida Antiques and decided he’d better follow me? Did he know something about the opened safe? Or, if he really was stalking Mayumi, did he trigger her abrupt decision a week earlier to travel to Tohoku?

I’d liked Akira. It was unsettling to think I had gotten someone so wrong. But I couldn’t beat myself up about it, because there were more pressing issues at hand. Mr. Ishida and I had just arrived muddy, cold, and tired at the Sugihama survivors’ shelter. And he wanted to see Hachiko.

Remembering that Miki had pledged to watch over the dog, I led Mr. Ishida into the gymnasium full of families. His aged eyes widened with distress at the sight of the cardboard-bordered dwellings. I pointed out the Hanedas’ space, and led him toward the family.

At the sound of Mr. Ishida’s voice, Hachiko jumped up and banged her front paws on the cardboard boundary, causing it to collapse. The family next door looked startled, and as Mr. Ishida grabbed hold of Hachiko’s collar, I apologized to them.

“Who’s this?” Miki, who’d fallen asleep next to the dog, came awake, looking worriedly at Mr. Ishida.

“Miki-chan, here is Hachiko’s owner, Ishida-san,” I began.

“Oh, Hachiko, your father’s here.” Miki’s expression relaxed into a smile. “Your daddy’s come back. Just like ours will.”

“Oh, Miki,” Sadako Haneda said, sounding anxious. She was rocking the fretful baby while her other daughter, Chieko, played with an electronic game.

“Thank you for being so nice to Hachiko. I’d like to take her outside for a short walk. You will be able to play with her after supper again, if you like,” Mr. Ishida said.

Miki assented with a quick nod. “Go on with them, Hachiko. It’s time to be with your daddy. He missed you very much.”

“I’m surprised how that turned out,” Mr. Ishida said as he took Hachiko’s rope leash and walked with me from the high school shelter toward the volunteers’ building. “Although the mother had tears in her eyes. I gather that the husband is still lost?”

“Yes, since right before the wave. It’s really awful,” I said. “Don’t you think the way Miki was urging Hachiko to return with you seemed like she was acting out her own dream of a reunion?”

“Maybe it is. They are in the same situation as I am, not knowing if there’s reason to keep worrying, or to start mourning.” He sighed. “I heard some talk about supper and actually am a bit hungry. When will it be?”

“Usually around six thirty. I can almost guarantee you it’s going to be a soup or stew with a miso base.” With a sinking feeling, I remembered that breakfast wasn’t covered for the volunteers. I only had one granola bar left in my stash…. What would he eat?

“I have no complaints about miso at any time of day,” Mr. Ishida said. “In the meantime, I’ll take care of feeding and walking Hachiko.”

“I forgot to mention the dog food and water bowl are still with the Hanedas.”

“Good. That will give Miki a chance to help, if she likes.”

I decided to use his absence as a time to inquire about sleeping arrangements for Mr. Ishida. I wasn’t sure if there was even room in the displaced residents’ shelter, or if he’d qualify, coming from out of town.

Mr. Yano and Miss Tanaka were doing paperwork a quiet corner of the dormitory space and greeted me as I approached them.

“I’m glad to see you again, Shimura-san. Unfortunately I’m leaving tonight,” Miss Tanaka said softly. “My workplace insists. At least I can tell your cousin how well you’ve been doing here.”

“That would be great. Excuse me, but I have a bit of a favor to ask you, Yano-san.” I described Mr. Ishida’s release and desire to stay a bit longer in Sugihama while he searched for Mayumi.

“Of course there’s room for him to be sheltered,” Mr. Yano said. “The mayor keeps the list of everyone going into the big residents’ shelter, but there is also space with the volunteers.”

“For us to stay near each other would be ideal. But are you sure the volunteers wouldn’t be inconvenienced?”

“Three-quarters of the volunteers are packing up to return to Tokyo this evening on the same bus as Tanaka-san,” Mr. Yano answered. “It won’t be until the day after tomorrow that more volunteers will arrive. There is certainly room for him.”

“That’s very kind of you—”

“Not kind. Just practical.” Mr. Yano told me where to find an extra bedroll, sleeping bag, and woolen socks donated by the military. Miss Tanaka mentioned that toiletries would be available from the Red Cross for him, as well as breakfast snack bars and water. All I needed to do was fill out a form with some details about Mr. Ishida for organizational records.

I was rushing through the paperwork—Mr. Yano assured me writing in
hiragana
and English would be fine—when Mr. Ishida arrived with Hachiko at his side.

“Nurse Tanaka, it is very nice to see you again.”

“You, too, Ishida-san. Are you feeling well?”

“Quite well. With the help of Shimura-san, I feel much stronger and enjoyed a long walk today.” Turning to bow to Mr. Yano, Mr. Ishida introduced himself and thanked him for allowing me time away from volunteer duties to help with his release from the injured persons’ shelter. After that, he asked if he’d heard anything about the whereabouts of Mayumi Kimura.

“Shimura-san gave the information to Mayor Hamasaki and me, and it turns out because her parents knew she was missing, her name was already on many search lists,” Mr. Yano said. “But so far, there is no news of her being taken in for shelter, or confirmed dead or injured. I’m quite sorry.”

“I suppose that because I’m out of the shelter, I should go look wherever the bodies are kept. In case she’s there, but was not identified. Because she is not a citizen of this town, nobody would know her.”

He’d forgotten about Akira Rikyo.

“The bodies have been brought to various school gymnasiums to await identification,” Nurse Tanaka said. “The police can take you to these places, but unfortunately, a number of the unidentified have already been cremated. Therefore, you will not necessarily have the right answer.”

“Perhaps Hachiko could help search around the town for Mayumi,” Yano-san said. “Wouldn’t you rather do that, now that you’ve got the dog again? It will be a nice time together, since Hachiko cannot sleep upstairs—”

“But the volunteer with animal allergy is going back on tonight’s bus with me,” Nurse Tanaka said. “Perhaps Hachiko could indeed sleep upstairs. It’s so cold—she will keep Ishida-san warm. And the new staircase is working well.”

Mr. Yano paused, and then said, “All right, then. As long as Ishida-san thinks that it’s a good idea.”

“Both of us would like it very much.” Mr. Ishida bowed again and again. “I am not deserving of such kindness, but I am so grateful for it.”

The next morning, Mr. Ishida told me he’d slept well. He joined me for the morning exercise drill, following all movements until the jogging and jumping sequence. With a shrug, he shifted into a
tai chi
routine. How gracefully he moved, one movement flowing into another. With his hands, he pushed, and I had the sudden image of a beautiful wave that rose and subsided within the stretch of his narrow arms.

“I see a good idea for exercise modification,” Mr. Yano called out from his position in front of the assembled group. “Maybe Ishida-san can lead
tai chi
routines for the evening program.”

“Yes, please,” people called out. I didn’t know how anyone could still have energy for the evening program, which I’d missed each night because I needed to sleep.

After exercises were finished, I said goodbye to Mr. Ishida, who decided to go with military transport to the places where the dead were awaiting identification. Trying to take my mind off the grisly scenes he might encounter, I went into the kitchen and helped Nobuko-san chop onions. These tears hurt—but I’d trade them any day for emotional ones.

By ten o’clock, the stew of dried black mushrooms and wakame sea greens was simmering in a thick stock of miso and water. I looked up at a sound and saw Miki come in.

“Rei-san, I’m sad. Very sad.”

“Oh, no.” I felt my spirits crash. Probably her father’s body had been found.

“Hachiko is not in her box outside the kitchen,” Miki said, tears running down her face. “She’s not upstairs where the volunteers sleep. Now she’s lost, just like Butter—”

I crouched down so we were eye-to-eye. “Sorry. I forgot to tell you that she stayed in the dormitory last night with Ishida-san, and then the two of them went out today. I promise you they’ll be back.”

“Where did they go?”

“Oh, just driving. Looking around.” I didn’t want her to know about the morgues.

“But why is her bed with my daddy’s coat gone from outside?” Miki’s voice didn’t sound reassured. “That’s her afternoon nap place.”

“If she’s with Ishida-san, he’ll make sure she naps—just like you make sure of your younger sisters. And I must give back your father’s coat to your mother—I brought it upstairs to the volunteers’ sleeping area yesterday because Hachiko really likes it.”

“Okay.” Miki wiped her tears away with two chubby fists. “I know she likes to snuggle in it, but I should brush off the dog hair today so it’s clean for when Otoochan comes.”

Biting my lip, I turned back to stir the pot. I couldn’t bear facing her when my thoughts about the likelihood of her father’s arrival were so different. It might only be a few more days until Miki would hear bad news about her father not coming back. Until then, she should have some good times. I promised her that later in the afternoon, I’d ask her to take Hachiko and me on a walk to wherever she wanted.

The count for people wanting lunch was 20 percent lower than the day we’d arrived. Yano-san explained that many of the residents had dispersed to their relatives’ or friends’ homes in undamaged cities and towns. Also, people whose homes were remotely habitable preferred to stay in them and continue cleaning up. Many of the worst obstacles in the streets had been removed, and traffic was beginning to flow.

After lunch, I decided to hang the used dishcloths outdoors. It was cold, but any wind would help dry them. As I draped the cloths over a bicycle rack, the sound of tires crunching over rubble made me turn. The Tanuki Carpentry truck stopped at the front of the building. Akira emerged from the side of the truck closest to me, while a tall man in his fifties with similar features stepped out of the driver’s side.

I pinned up the last cloth quickly and went back into the kitchen, my heart thudding. So Akira and his father had come. They’d caught me off guard, and I needed to think before speaking to them. But what would I say? The opportunity to find out came quickly when Akira appeared in the kitchen doorway a few minutes later.

“Sorry to disturb you.” His voice had a rasp to it, as if he’d caught a cold. “My father came to get some instructions from the mayor. How are things with you and the volunteers?”

“I’m fine.” I tried to smile at him normally, but it was tough. “As you saw yesterday, I’ve found my old friend, who survived the tsunami without serious injury.”

“When we met on the bus, I didn’t understand that your friend was actually someone I knew. There are so many people named Ishida,
neh
?”

“
Actually
,” I said, repeating his word with emphasis, “you did know whom I was talking about. Especially after you recognized Hachiko.”

“It took me a little bit of time.” Now he sounded apologetic. “Since the dog was without the person who usually walked her, I didn’t make the connection.”

“That person is Mayumi Kimura, right?”

“Yes.” His voice cracked as it rose higher. “Have you heard where Mayumi-san has gone?”

“Before we get into that, I have a question.” I was striving to keep a neutral tone, despite the agitation I felt. “Why did you take the volunteer bus to Sugihama on the same night as me?”

“It was the only way to reach this area. I heard about Helping Hands on the television news. When I e-mailed Yano-san, I wrote that I come from Sugihama and wanted to return to my family for the funeral and so on. Yano-san was kind enough to give me the last seat. Now, please tell me where Mayumi is.”

“When we were chatting on the bus, I remember you saying you didn’t know what had happened to your girlfriend. You weren’t even sure that she was alive. Why wouldn’t you know what had happened to her, a full eight days after the earthquake?”

A pink flush spread across his cheeks. “The last time we saw each other was March tenth, when she was walking Hachiko near the shop around five o’clock—the dog’s dinnertime,” he added. “If Mr. Ishida was working with a customer then, she’d take Hachiko out for a little walk.”

“Okay,” I said. “So what happened next?”

“I went home. The next day, I was at work when the earthquake hit. Some of the guys working on the building fell, so after the ones who needed to get the hospital got in ambulances, the boss closed down the site for the day and we all went home. The construction project stayed closed down for the next couple of days, so I had time to check if Mayumi was okay. I didn’t see her going in or out of her apartment, and when I went to the door to ask, her roommates wouldn’t answer it. So I went to Yanaka a couple of times during the hours that Ishida Antiques is usually open. But it was locked up. Did Ishida-san close the shop because of the power shortages or interior damage or something like that?”