4
August 18, 1946
Tokyo, 89°, cloudy
I have walked all night through fields of ash to find him here; Detective Fujita sitting in the early morning shade on the steps of the Atago police station with his face to the sun, his eyes closed, a new Panama hat in one hand and a freshly lit cigarette in the other –
I stand over him. I block out the light. I say, ‘Good morning.’
‘Good morning,’ he replies but he does not open his eyes –
I tell him, ‘Let’s go for a walk, please. We need to talk.’
‘Talk about what?’ he asks me, his eyes still closed –
‘Hayashi Jo,’ I say. ‘Matsuda Giichi. Senju Akira.’
Now Detective Fujita opens his eyes. He gets to his feet. He wipes away the dust from his trousers. Now he says, ‘Lead on.’
My eyes ache. My head aches. My belly aches …
In the old grove across the road, among the cedars and the bamboo, we stand in the shadows and the sunlight, black and white patterns across our clothes and across our faces –
‘They missed you yesterday,’ I say. ‘Adachi and Kanehara. They were both asking where you were…’
Fujita bows ever so slightly and says, ‘I’m sorry. It couldn’t be helped. I had to meet someone…’
‘I hear you met Hayashi from the Minpo …’
Fujita laughs. ‘Minpo, Minshū, Akahata…’
‘What did Hayashi want?’ I ask him.
‘Blackmail. Extortion. Money.’
‘He tried to blackmail you?’
‘Not only me. You too.’
‘Me?’ I ask. ‘Why?’
‘He knows things.’
‘Things about you and Nodera Tomiji?’ I ask him. ‘Things about you and the murder of Matsuda Giichi?’
‘All lies,’ hisses Fujita. ‘All lies.’
‘Is that what you told Hayashi?’
‘I didn’t tell Hayashi anything,’ says Fujita. ‘I just wanted him gone and now he’s gone and he won’t be coming back.’
My stomach aches. My head aches. ‘Really?’
‘I paid him to go. To not come back.’
‘How much did you pay him?’
‘Forget it,’ smiles Fujita.
‘No,’ I say. ‘How much?’
‘Forget it!’ he snaps –
I nod. I bow to him. I thank him. Then I ask him, ‘But do you know where Hayashi is now?’
‘He’s running,’ says Fujita. ‘Running from Tokyo. Running from this life. His turn to change his name. To change his job. He’ll not be back, I promise you.’
I tell him, ‘Senju Akira wants a name from me.’
‘Whose name does he want?’ asks Fujita.
‘The name that set up Nodera Tomiji.’
‘Or what?’
‘Or he’ll make things difficult for me.’
‘So give him Hayashi’s name,’ laughs Detective Fujita. ‘Hayashi doesn’t need it any more.’
‘But how do you know he won’t come back?’
‘I just know,’ he laughs again. ‘Trust me.’
‘But how do you know…?’
Detective Fujita steps closer. Fujita whispers, ‘I told him I’d kill him if I ever saw him again.’
*
I have vomited in the toilets of Atago police station. Black bile. Now I stand over the sink. I spit. I wipe my mouth. I turn on a tap. I wash my face. I look up into the mirror. I stare into the mirror –
No one is who they say they are…
I stand up in front of the First Team, the Second Team and all the uniforms from the Atago, Meguro and Mita police stations as Chief Inspector Kanehara reviews the progress of the investigation to date; the searches of the two crime scenes in Shiba Park have been completed; the statements of the witnesses have been taken; the autopsies have been conducted; the initial stages of the investigation have been successfully completed bar the identification of the bodies, which is scheduled for later this morning; then the second stage of the investigation will begin –
I swallow…
‘All reports must be completed and submitted to Headquarters this morning,’ Adachi is now telling the First Team, the Second Team and the uniforms from the Atago, Meguro and Mita police stations. ‘Following the completion of the identification process, there will be a second meeting later today at 4 p.m.’
‘Attention!’ shouts one of the sergeants –
‘Bow!’ the sergeant shouts –
‘Dismissed!’
I run back to the toilets. I vomit again. Brown bile. I walk over to the sink. I spit. I wipe my mouth. I turn on a tap. I wash my face. I look up into the mirror. I stare into the mirror –
No one is who they say they are …
In the upstairs corridor I wait for Nishi and Kimura. I take them to one side. I ask them, ‘Have you written up your reports?’
They both nod. They both say, ‘Yes, we have.’
‘Then I want you to go to Toshima Ward,’ I tell them. ‘I want you to go to the ward office. I want you to ask again about this Takahashi of Zōshigaya, Toshima…’
Kimura nods again but Nishi says, ‘The First Team have already been up there.’
‘I know that,’ I tell him. ‘And I know they couldn’t find him or any mention of him, but his name on a statement of employment in his bag in that park is the only name we have found so far and, remember, our body is only bones and those bones need a name or they’ll always be bones…’
Nishi nods. Kimura nods. They both bow. They both turn to leave. I wait until they’ve gone and then I run. I run back to the toilets to vomit a third time. Yellow bile. I turn on the tap. I wash my face. I look up into the mirror. I stare into the mirror –
No one is who they say they are …
Ishida is wiping down the chairs and the tables, sweeping up the floor and the doorway, straightening our banner. Ishida looks up. He sees me. He flinches. Then he stands to attention –
‘At ease,’ I say as he bows and apologizes –
I ask, ‘Have you written up your report?’
He nods. He says, ‘Yes, I have, sir.’
‘Then I want you to do something for me,’ I tell him. ‘I want you to go to the offices of the Minpo newspaper…’
Ishida nods. Ishida bows again –
‘I want you to ask to see a Hayashi Jo…’
Ishida takes out his notebook –
‘Tell Hayashi to come see me…’
Ishida licks his pencil tip –
‘Now if he’s not there, I want you to find out who he has seen recently, where he has gone and when he’ll be back.’
Ishida nods. Ishida says, ‘I understand, sir.’
‘I’m depending on you, Ishida.’
Ishida nods. He bows. He turns to leave. Now I run again. Back to the toilets of Atago police station. I vomit again. Grey bile. Four times I have vomited in the toilets of Atago police station. Black bile, brown bile, yellow bile and grey. Four times I have looked into the mirror. Four times I have stared into that mirror –
I don’t want to remember. But in the half-light…
Four times I have screamed into the glass –
In the half-light, I can’t forget. I can’t forget…
I have screamed into my own face –
No one is who they say they are!
*
Inspectors Kanehara, Adachi and Kai have already left for Metro Headquarters, left in a car without me. Ton-ton. But I am glad. Ton-ton. I don’t care. Ton-ton. I want to walk. Ton-ton. In the shit. Ton-ton. In the dust. Ton-ton. In the dirt. Ton-ton. There is a typhoon approaching Japan. Ton-ton. But it won’t hit Tokyo. Ton-ton. Not this time. Ton-ton. Not this one. Ton-ton. But the air is still heavy with its approach. Ton-ton. The people wilting in the streets. Ton-ton. The stalls at the sides of the road quiet. Ton-ton. Men sat on their butts slowly shelling nuts to sell, slowly stripping down old wirelesses for parts. Ton-ton. Nut by nut, part by part, as slowly as they can. Ton-ton. Frightened to finish, frightened of having no more nuts to shell, of having no more wirelesses to strip, of having nothing more to do –
Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …
Nothing more to do but think, think about food –
Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …
My stomach aches. My head aches –
Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …
My feet ache. My eyes ache –
Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …
I curse! I curse! I curse!
Ton-ton. Ton-ton …
I curse myself –
Ton-ton.
*
I knock on the door to Chief Kita’s office. I open it. I bow deeply. I apologize profusely. I take my seat at the table; the same people, the same place, the same time and the same two conversations every day but today I am late so I have missed all their talk of the Tokyo trials and the rumours of purges. Now the talk around the table has turned again to SCAP, to their so-called reforms, all of which are based on the recommendations of former New York Police Commissioner Lewis J. Valentine, and to the SCAP puppet Tanikawa, the chief of the Police Affairs Bureau at the Home Ministry –
‘He’s helping them purge good hard-working officers,’ Kanehara is saying, ‘and replacing them with policewomen, turning female clerks into police officers, giving them the authority to arrest suspects or to take them back to the stations…’
‘Tanikawa is a fool,’ agrees Adachi. ‘A fool and a stooge.’
‘He might be a fool and a stooge,’ says Kanehara, ‘but he’s not finished yet; have you seen the kind of reforms they want to include in the proposed new Police Bill? Not only policewomen with powers of arrest and detention, but an emphasis on the recruitment of college graduates above all other recruits…’
‘All communists,’ says Kai –
‘Exactly,’ continues Kanehara. ‘And then let’s not forget the centrepiece of the Bill; the prevention of unreasonable or unjustifiable detention in police cells or jails. You know what this will mean? That for every single suspect you pick up, there will have to be either some proof of guilt or some actual charge. There will be no more picking people up and holding them until you find the evidence or gain a confession. There will have to be either evidence or a charge before you can touch them. If not, then you’ll be the one charged – with violating the suspect’s human rights!’
‘Human rights!’ everyone laughs.
‘Like all this talk of new uniforms,’ says Kai. ‘All these calls for less militaristic ones, of blue instead of khaki, of sleeve stripes instead of shoulder boards. All this talk of new uniforms when we barely have enough men left…’
‘We’ve asked and asked and asked them for new uniforms,’ says Kanehara. ‘New uniforms and new boots or, if not new uniforms or new boots, then new material to patch up our old uniforms or new soles for our old boots, anything that stops our men looking like tramps and being despised by the public as tramps…’
‘And they’ve promised and promised us,’ says Adachi –
‘Yes,’ says Kanehara. ‘But that’s all they’ve done…’
The same people, the same place, the same time and the same two conversations every day, meeting after meeting until there is another knock on the door and another interruption –
‘Excuse me,’ says another uniform –
‘What is it?’ barks the chief –
‘The mothers are ready, sir.’
*
The autopsies have been performed, the search of the area has been completed, and five of the mothers have been told to come back to Headquarters. Five mothers who read the morning paper or heard the news from neighbours two days ago. Five mothers who have taken out their last good kimonos again. Five mothers who have called upon their other daughters or their sisters for a third time. Five mothers who have once again begged the streetcar or train fare up to Sakuradamon. Five mothers still looking for their daughters –
Five mothers praying we have not found them.
A uniformed officer opens the door to the reception room for Inspector Kai and me. Kai and I apologize to these five mothers for keeping them waiting, these five mothers in their last good kimonos, their other daughters or their sisters at their sides –
Praying and praying and praying …
These five mothers whose daughters’ ages and descriptions, their heights and their weights, the scars their daughters bore or the teeth their daughters lost, the clothes they were wearing and the shoes on their feet, the bags they were carrying –
On the days they were last seen …
These features and descriptions that help us eliminate or match the missing to the dead, these features and descriptions that have brought these mothers back here –
Their hands in their laps …
These five mothers who stare up at us now as Kai asks, ‘Which one of you is Mrs. Midorikawa of Meguro Ward?’
Blinking and nodding, Mrs. Midorikawa gets to her feet with the help of her two other daughters. Blinking and nodding, Inspector Kai and I lead them into a smaller room next to the reception room. Blinking and nodding, Mrs. Midorikawa sits between her two older daughters. Blinking and nodding, Mrs. Midorikawa is twisting a piece of cloth in her hands. Blinking and nodding, Mrs. Midorikawa is staring at another piece of cloth on the table. Blinking and nodding, the tears already running down her cheeks. Blinking and nodding –
The red haramaki with the five darned holes …
‘It was her father’s. Ryuko darned it herself,’ she tells us. ‘Five times. Replaced the buttons.’
Blinking and nodding as Inspector Kai picks up the haramaki, folding it in two and then wrapping it back up inside the brown paper, the crumpled brown paper –
‘Ryuko darned it herself,’ she repeats, blinking and nodding. ‘Ryuko darned it herself.’
I excuse myself. I step outside. I go back into the reception room next door. The four other mothers look up at me. The four other mothers stare up at me –
Mouths open …
I tell the four mothers that a car will take them up to the Keiō University Hospital.
*
Mrs. Midorikawa and her two older daughters do not speak in the car to the Keiō University Hospital. They do not speak in the corridors crowded with the dying and the dead, the waiting and the grieving –
She is here. She is here. She is here. She is here …
They do not speak as we wait for the elevator, as we watch the elevator doors open, as we step inside and watch the doors close –
She is here. She is here. She is here …
They do not speak as we ride the dark elevator down, as we watch the elevator doors open again, as the light returns –
She is here. She is here …
They do not speak as they walk along the corridor to the mortuary, as they put on the slippers, as they step through the doors into the half-light of the mortuary –
She is here, here …
They bow but do not speak when they are introduced to Dr. Nakadate, as the orderlies remove a stretcher from the refrigerator –
Here is Ryuko …
They do not speak as they stare at the raised grey sheet on the stretcher, as Dr. Nakadate reaches under the grey sheet, as he takes out a hand from under the sheet, as he holds up a left hand and points out a scar on the left thumb, they do not speak but they weep –
They do not speak but they weep and they weep –
‘I am here because of you…’
They weep and they weep but they still do not speak as Dr. Nakadate slowly pulls back the grey sheet, as he shows them the bleached face of a young girl, seventeen years old –
‘I am Midorikawa Ryuko of Meguro…’
They weep and they weep but they still do not speak until Mrs. Midorikawa finally looks up from the bleached face of her daughter, from the ruined corpse of her child and cries out, ‘Kodaira!’
*
Inspector Kai and I stand in the corridor between the autopsy room and the mortuary and wait for Mrs. Midorikawa and her two older daughters to finish their discussions with the Keiō staff about the funeral arrangements for her youngest daughter. Inspector Kai is smoking a cigarette. Inspector Kai is smiling. Inspector Kai is looking at his notebook, a name written three times –
Kodaira. Kodaira. Kodaira …
‘This time tomorrow,’ laughs Inspector Kai. ‘This case will be closed and I’ll be drunk…’
Dr. Nakadate’s assistant comes down the narrow corridor. He bows. He apologizes for interrupting our conversation. He hands me a piece of paper torn from a newspaper and says, ‘This was found folded in the pocket of the skirt of the pinafore dress on your body.’
I open out the piece of newspaper. It is an advertisement –
Salon Matsu in Kanda now hiring new staff …
It is a clue, at last. It is a start, at last –
‘You never know,’ laughs Kai. ‘Maybe this time tomorrow, we’ll both be drunk…’
I bow and I thank Dr. Nakadate’s assistant as Mrs. Midorikawa and her two daughters step out of the mortuary room –
The arrangements have been made.
Now Inspector Kai puts out his cigarette. Inspector Kai stops smiling. Inspector Kai takes Mrs. Midorikawa and her daughters back to Metropolitan Police Headquarters.
Now it is my turn –
I open the glass doors. I step inside the autopsy room. I walk over to one of the sinks. I take off my jacket. I roll up the sleeves of my shirt. I wash my hands. I dry my hands. I do up my shirt cuffs. I put my jacket back on. I walk over to one of the autopsy tables, octagonal, marble and German in design. I take out my pocket knife, blunt, rusted and Japanese. I cut the string of the three brown paper parcels waiting for me here on the table. I unwrap the brown paper of the first parcel. I take out the yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress, the white half-sleeved chemise, and the dyed-pink socks. I lay these clothes out on one of the other autopsy tables. I unwrap the brown paper of the second parcel. I take out the two white canvas shoes with the red rubber soles. I place these shoes on the same autopsy table. I unwrap the third brown paper parcel. I take out the ladies’ undergarments we found near the bodies in Shiba, these undergarments that did not belong to Midorikawa Ryuko. I lay these garments out on one of the smaller separate dissecting tables –
Now I step back out into the corridor –
The four other mothers with their other daughters or their sisters or neighbours are waiting. Four other mothers who have lost daughters aged fifteen to twenty years old. Four mothers who lost their daughters over three weeks ago. Mothers who are wringing their hands and praying they do not find their daughters here at the end of this corridor, beyond these glass doors –
Praying and praying …
I ask Mrs. Tamba of Ōmori Ward to please step into the autopsy room. Mrs. Tamba and her two sisters follow me inside –
Mrs. Tamba and her sisters stare at the yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress, the white half-sleeved chemise, the dyed-pink socks and the white canvas shoes with red rubber soles lain out on the autopsy table and they shake their heads. I ask them to look at the undergarments on the other table. They stare again and then they shake their heads again. I thank them and they leave –
I lick the tip of my pencil. I make a note –
Mrs. Nakahara of Yodobashi Ward and her other daughter stare at the yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress, the white half-sleeved chemise, the dyed-pink socks and the white canvas shoes with red rubber soles. They dab their eyes but shake their heads. I ask them to look at the undergarments on the other table. They shake their heads again. I thank them and they leave –
I turn the page. I make another note –
Mrs. Hidari of Ebara Ward and her sister stare at the yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress, the white half-sleeved chemise, the dyed-pink socks and the white canvas shoes with red rubber soles and finally, after five minutes, they shake their heads. I ask them to look at the undergarments. They look at each other and then shake their heads. I thank them and they leave –
I lick the tip of my pencil –
Mrs. Mitani of Jōtō Ward has no daughter or sister or neighbour with her today. Mrs. Mitani stands alone before the autopsy table and stares at the yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress, the white half-sleeved chemise, the dyed-pink socks and the white canvas shoes with red rubber soles. Mrs. Mitani shakes her head. I ask her to look at the undergarments. Mrs. Mitani shakes her head again. I thank her but she does not move. Mrs. Mitani continues to stare at the undergarments lain out on the dissecting table. I thank her again. She still does not move but asks, ‘What happens now?’
‘We will continue to try to identify these clothes so…’
‘Not about that,’ she says. ‘About my daughter…’
‘I’m sure the Jōtō police are trying to find her…’
‘How can they?’ she asks me. ‘Have you been to Jōtō Ward? There’s nothing left there. The police have nothing. No buildings. No telephones. No bicycles. How can they find her?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m really sorry…’
‘She was all I had,’ she says. ‘I have nothing now. No family. No house. No job. No money. Nothing…’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say again. ‘But I promise I will make sure that the description of your daughter is sent to every police station in Tokyo and I hope we will find her…’
Now Mrs. Mitani of Jōtō Ward looks up from the ladies undergarments and the dissecting table. Now Mrs. Mitani wipes her eyes. Mrs. Mitani bows and thanks me –
Now Mrs. Mitani leaves –
I make my final note –
I need a cigarette …
I walk back down the basement corridor past the walls of sinks and drains, the written warnings of cuts and punctures, the orderlies washing and rinsing their hands and their forearms and I push the elevator button and I watch the doors open and I am about to step inside the elevator when Dr. Nakadate catches my arm and asks, ‘Did you find that file, inspector? The Miyazaki file…’
*
I don’t want to remember. In the half-light, I can’t forget…
The cars have gone back to HQ. The streetcar full again –
Kai has a name. Kai has a suspect. Kai will get an address …
I walk back to Sakuradamon, through Moto-Akasaka –
Kai will make an arrest. Kai will get a confession …
By the river, behind the parliament building –
Kai can close the case. Both our cases …
Past the imperial moat to HQ –
Both our cases closed …
Miyazaki Mitsuko forgotten again.
*
I knock on the door of the interview room. I open it. I bow. I take a seat next to the stenographer at the side. Inspector Kai does not look up. Mrs. Midorikawa does not look up; Mrs. Midorikawa sat next to one of her older daughters, twisting and wringing that same piece of cloth in her lap as Inspector Kai confirms again, again and again, the things she has told him during their initial two interviews –
‘So you last saw your daughter on the sixth?’
‘Yes,’ whispers Mrs. Midorikawa. ‘Ryuko left the house at about nine on the morning of the sixth of August.’
‘And this is the house in Meguro Ward?’
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘But it’s not our house, it’s the Yamamotos’ house. We’ve been staying with them since our house was pulled down for fire defences at the end of last March.’
‘And Ryuko was living there too?’
‘Yes,’ she says again. ‘Always.’
Now Inspector Kai asks, ‘And so can you tell me again what was she wearing when she left the house in Meguro on the sixth?’
‘A white summer dress and white canvas shoes.’
‘And did she have any money with her?’
‘She would have had about ten yen,’ says Mrs. Midorikawa. ‘Just for the streetcar or the train fare.’
Inspector Kai turns the page of his notebook. ‘And she told you she was going for a job interview?’
‘Yes,’ agrees Mrs. Midorikawa. ‘Ryuko didn’t really like the job she had as a waitress in Ginza.’
‘And this was as a waitress at a café in the fourth cho me?’
‘Yes,’ she agrees again. ‘But there were not many tips.’
‘And the interview for this new job was in Shibaura?’
‘Yes,’ she says again. ‘With the Occupation Army.’
‘And this job interview had all come about through this man called Kodaira?’ asks Inspector Kai. ‘Kodaira Yoshio?’
Mrs. Midorikawa pauses here. Mrs. Midorikawa swallows. Now Mrs. Midorikawa says, ‘Through that man, yes.’
‘Please tell me again then, in as much detail as you can, how your daughter Ryuko came to meet this man called Kodaira?’
Mrs. Midorikawa sighs. Mrs. Midorikawa shakes her head. Mrs. Midorikawa says, ‘By chance at Shinagawa station.’
‘How was it by chance that Ryuko met this man Kodaira?’ asks Inspector Kai. ‘And what was the date they met?’
Mrs. Midorikawa looks at her other daughter. Mrs. Midorikawa asks her, ‘You said the tenth of July?’
‘Yes,’ says her other daughter. ‘There was an accident at Shinagawa and all the trains were delayed.’
Inspector Kai looks down at his notebook and then asks, ‘And this was when Kodaira approached and spoke to Ryuko?’
‘Yes,’ says the other daughter again. ‘Ryuko told me that he just came up to her on the platform and started talking to her.’
Inspector Kai asks, ‘Do you know what they talked about?’
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘They talked about work and about food.’
‘Ryuko told him she wanted to find a new job,’ adds Mrs. Midorikawa now. ‘And Kodaira said he had connections with the Occupation Army and that he could help her find a job with them.’
‘How exactly did he say he would be able to help Ryuko?’
Mrs. Midorikawa shakes her head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Through his connections,’ says the other daughter. ‘That’s what Ryuko told me that he said; through his connections …’
‘Did she say what kind of connections?’ asks Kai.
‘He was wearing the Shinchū Gun armband.’
Kai nods. ‘So when did they next meet?’
‘Not until earlier this month,’ says Mrs. Midorikawa. ‘Ryuko fell ill with intestinal problems and so she didn’t see Kodaira again until he suddenly turned up at the house asking after her…’
‘So Kodaira knew where Ryuko lived then?’
‘Yes,’ says Mrs. Midorikawa. ‘She must have given him her address that day in July at Shinagawa…’
‘And so when exactly did Kodaira make this visit?’ asks Kai. ‘This visit to the house in Meguro?’
Mrs. Midorikawa says, ‘The day before she went missing.’
‘The fifth of August,’ confirms her other daughter.
‘And did you both meet Kodaira?’ asks Kai –
‘Yes,’ they both reply at the same time.
‘So then tell me,’ says Inspector Kai. ‘What is he like?’
They are both silent for a moment until Mrs. Midorikawa first sighs and then says, ‘He seemed like a gentleman. He brought us a small gift. He said he was concerned about Ryuko’s health. He told us he was working as a cook with the Occupation Army. He thought he could help Ryuko find work at the same barracks.’
‘Can you remember which barracks these were?’ asks Kai.
‘Number 589,’ says the other daughter. ‘In Shinagawa.’
Kai looks up from his notes. ‘And you believed him?’
‘Of course I believed him,’ spits Mrs. Midorikawa, suddenly. ‘Do you really think I would have let my daughter go off to meet him, if I didn’t believe him? If I didn’t trust him?’
Inspector Kai looks back down at his notebook. Inspector Kai shakes his head and now says, ‘I am very sorry. I…’
‘There are six of us in our family,’ she says. ‘And no man.’
Inspector Kai bows his head and says again, ‘I am sorry.’
‘He promised her a good job,’ she says. ‘Free food.’
Inspector Kai just nods and stares at his notebook.
‘He was wearing the Shinchū Gun armband.’
I cough now. I edge forward on my seat. I bow and then ask, ‘And so Ryuko went to meet him on the sixth of August?’
‘Yes,’ says Mrs. Midorikawa. ‘They had arranged to meet at ten o’clock at the east gate of Shinagawa station.’
‘Ten o’clock in the morning?’ I ask –
‘Of course,’ she says. ‘Of course.’
‘And so when Ryuko didn’t come home, what did you do?’
‘I waited until the next morning,’ says Mrs. Midorikawa. ‘And then, first thing, I went straight to see Kodaira.’
‘You went to see him at his home?’ I ask. ‘Where is it?’
‘In Hanezawamachi,’ she replies. ‘In Shibuya Ward.’
‘And what did he say when you went to see him?’
‘He lied to me,’ spits Mrs. Midorikawa. ‘He said Ryuko had never turned up to meet him at Shinagawa station.’
‘Let me just check this,’ I say. ‘When you went to see Kodaira in Shibuya it was the seventh of August?’
‘Yes,’ says Mrs. Midorikawa.
‘And you went to see him because Ryuko hadn’t come home the night before?’
‘Yes.’
‘But Kodaira told you Ryuko had not shown up to meet him at Shinagawa station at ten o’clock on the morning before?’
‘Yes,’ says Mrs. Midorikawa. ‘He lied to me.’
‘They all lie,’ says her other daughter.
Now I take out an envelope from my jacket pocket. I open the envelope. I take out the piece of newspaper found in the pocket of the skirt of the pinafore dress on my body. Now I place the newspaper advertisement on the table before Mrs. Midorikawa –
I ask, ‘Does this mean anything to you?’
Mrs. Midorikawa looks down at the newspaper advertisement. Mrs. Midorikawa pushes it away. Mrs. Midorikawa looks up at me. Mrs. Midorikawa says, ‘My daughter was not a whore.’
*
Inspector Kai and Room #1 have been busy. Room #1 have an address for Kodaira Yoshio. Inspector Kai and Room #1 have sent two men to the address in Hanezawamachi, Shibuya Ward. Room #1 have stationed two pairs of detectives near the address –
No escape. No escape. No escape. No escape …
‘It is Kodaira’s sister’s house,’ Inspector Kai is telling us. ‘His younger sister’s house. He lives there with his wife and son…’
Chief Kita knows Kai wants to bring Kodaira in now –
No escape. No escape. No escape. No escape …
The chief asks, ‘What about his place of work?’
‘It is Laundry Barracks #589,’ says Inspector Kai. ‘Just as he told the mother, but he’s not a cook. He’s been working in the laundry since March this year. In Shinagawa, on the ocean side…’
Now Adachi glances up from his notes. Adachi looks at me –
‘And we’ve both seen this before, detective. Remember?’
The chief asks, ‘What shifts does he work at the laundry?’
‘He’s been working on nights this month,’ replies Kai.
Adachi still looking at me. Adachi still watching my face –
‘Did you find that file, inspector? The Miyazaki file…’
The chief asks, ‘Do we have his family’s address?’
‘Nikkō, Tochigi Prefecture,’ says Inspector Kai –
No escape. No escape. No escape. No escape …
The chief says, ‘Arrest him tomorrow at noon.’
No escape. In the half-light, no escape at all.
*
I take a different route back to Atago, through Hibiya Park and out onto Hibiya-dōri. The branches of the trees hang low in the hot and overcast light, the leaves on the branches covered in dirt and dust. There were statues in this park before the war turned against us, when there were heroes to celebrate and metal to spare. There were fountains too, when there were hours to play and water to spare. Restaurants and tea-houses, flower exhibitions and symphony concerts, tennis courts and a baseball ground, before they converted it into vegetable gardens and anti-aircraft batteries –
Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …
I queue for a streetcar at Uchisaiwai-chō, just down the road from the Imperial Hotel; the Imperial Hotel where there are still heroes to celebrate and metal to spare, hours to play and water to spare. The old woman queuing next to me is bent double with the weight of the box tied to her back. The old woman telling the queue the story of a small boy in Hongō who waited and waited for his chocolate ration to come and was so excited when the chocolate finally came that he could not take his eyes off the chocolate, that he did not look up from the chocolate, that he did not see the streetcar coming. The queue for our streetcar says nothing. The queue just stands and waits, watching for a streetcar that never comes, listening to the hammering that never ceases –
Ton-ton. Ton-ton …
*
I am back in the toilets of Atago police station. I have vomited again. Black bile again. I stand over the sink. I spit. I wipe my mouth. I turn on the tap. I wash my face. Now I look up into that mirror again –
I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to remember …
Ishida is waiting for me beside our banner –
‘Did you find Hayashi Jo?’ I ask him –
‘No,’ says Ishida. ‘He’s resigned.’
‘When did Hayashi resign?’
‘Late yesterday evening.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘No one knows.’
‘Good work,’ I tell him. ‘Dismissed.’
I wait until Ishida has stepped into our borrowed office and then I run back to the toilets. I vomit again. Brown bile. I walk over to the sink. I spit again. I wipe my mouth. I turn on the tap. I wash my face again. Now I stare into that mirror –
I don’t want to remember …
No Hayashi. No Fujita –
You can tell which are the men from Room #1 and which are the men from Room #2 by the looks on their faces. No Fujita. The anticipation on the faces of Room #1, the resignation on the faces of Room #2. No Fujita. Room #1 have a name for their suspect. No Fujita. Room #2 still have no name for their victim. No Fujita. Detectives Hattori, Takeda, Sanada and Shimoda are sat at the very back of the room. No Fujita. Detectives Nishi, Kimura and Ishida sat at the front. No Fujita. None of the men from the Second Team are smiling in anticipation of an arrest as they listen to Inspector Kai –
‘But the mother and sisters had already identified her haramaki by its five darned holes and given us details of the whitlow scar on her left thumb, so she was then formally identified by her mother as Midorikawa Ryuko, aged seventeen of Meguro Ward…’
Inspector Kai updating Room #1 and Room #2 about the identification of the body, about the life of the victim, about the name of the suspect and the plan for his arrest at noon tomorrow. The uniforms from Atago, Meguro and Mita have not been invited this evening. This meeting is just for detectives; detectives only –
‘And our two teams of detectives in Shibuya have just reported that the suspect left for his shift as usual at 5:30 p.m. tonight and then arrived at the laundry before 6 p.m….’
I am stood next to Inspector Kai at the front of the room beside Inspectors Kanehara and Adachi –
I am cursing Inspector Kai…
‘Naturally the detectives from Room #2 will also be able to question the suspect Kodaira about the second body found at Shiba Park and to which we hope he will also provide an identity and a confession and thus spare the blushes of Room #2 again…’
There is laughter from one half of the room –
There is resentment from the other half –
‘I’m just joking,’ laughs Kai. ‘We’re all comrades now.’
There is more laughter and more jeering, fists on desktops and boots on floorboards, backs slapped and hair ruffled –
In anticipation, in excitement –
‘Attention!’ shouts Kai –
Their fists by their sides, their boots together now …
‘Bow!’ he shouts –
Backs straight and hair flat…
‘Dismissed!’
They file out…
And I run out of the meeting room and down the stairs to vomit in the toilets. I vomit in the toilets of Atago police station a third time. Yellow bile. I spit. I turn on the tap again. I wash my face. I look up into that mirror again. I stare into that mirror –
I can’t forget. In the half-light, I can’t forget…
Adachi is waiting for me outside the toilets –
‘We’ve both seen this before, detective…’
Adachi grabs my arm. ‘Where’s Fujita?’
‘Did you find that file, inspector?’
‘I sent him to the Salon Matsu in Kanda,’ I lie but I don’t ask him why; why Adachi wants Fujita. I don’t ask him why because I turn back into the toilets. Back to vomit. Grey bile. Back to the sink. Back to the tap. Back to the mirror –
In the half-light …
Adachi is gone but Nishi and Kimura are waiting for me in the corridor. They are hot and they are dirty. They know I have forgotten about them. They are tired and they are angry –
‘There are no records of a Takahashi of Zōshigaya,’ says Nishi. ‘Because there are no records of anyone because all their records were lost when their ward office burnt down…’
‘But did you go to the address in Zōshigaya?’
Kimura nods and Nishi says, ‘Yes.’
I ask them both, ‘And…?’
‘It’s cinders,’ says Nishi.
I ask, ‘Have either of you seen Detective Fujita today?’
Kimura shakes his head and Nishi says, ‘No.’
‘Right then,’ I say and I take out the envelope from my pocket and hand them the piece of newspaper. ‘Find out which paper this advertisement is from and the date it was run. Then, last thing tonight, before they pull this man in tomorrow, you two are coming with me to Kanda to help me wake up the ladies of the Salon Matsu.’
Kimura nods. Nishi nods. They both bow. They both turn to leave. I wait until they’ve gone and then I run back to the toilets of Atago police station to vomit in the toilets –
But this time I do not vomit –
Nothing comes up.
*
Everything is falling into place. Back to Shimbashi to give Senju the name. Everything is turning out fine. Back to Shimbashi to get some Calmotin. Falling into place. Back through the pots and the pans, through the knives and the spoons. Turning out fine. Back through the suits and the sardines, the tinned fruit and old army boots –
‘Red apple to my lips, blue sky silently watching…’
But tonight there are many more pale-suited goons out here, many more patterned shirts and American sunglasses in the alleys and the lanes, in the shadows and the arches –
Trains screaming overhead…
Eight goons tonight at the foot of the stairs that lead up to his office, their legs apart and their hands in jackets, with twitches in their cheeks and pinpricks for pupils –
In the half-light …
His office door is closed, his office lights out tonight –
I straighten my jacket. I ask them, ‘Is the boss in?’
‘And who the fuck are you?’ asks one of them –
I tell him, ‘Inspector Minami of Metro HQ.’
This goon tells that goon to go up the stairs and so that goon goes up the stairs and taps on the door to the office and then that goon comes back down the stairs and whispers in the ear of this goon and so now this goon says, ‘You’re to wait, Minami of Metro HQ.’
No dice tonight. No calls of odd, even and play …
Now the door to the office opens. A foreigner, an American, a Victor, comes down the stairs. At the foot of the stairs, this man turns to me and says, ‘Good evening, inspector…’
‘Good evening, sir,’ I reply.
The foreigner, this American, this Victor, he winks at me now and Senju’s goons all laugh along –
‘Up you go now, Minami of Metro HQ,’ says one of the goons as the Victor disappears –
And up I go now –
Senju Akira is sat cross-legged in the dark with only the street lights illuminating the sweat on his skull and the sheen on his skin; Senju Akira naked except for a traditional loincloth –
‘You better have a name for me,’ whispers Senju Akira. ‘Or you won’t be leaving here again tonight…’
I curse him and I curse myself…
I kneel before him. I say, ‘Hayashi Jo of the Minpo paper.’
Senju says nothing. His eyes on me. Senju says nothing –
My face to the floor, I say, ‘He was seen with Nodera.’ His eyes on me. Nothing.
His eyes on me. Nothing –
‘They were drinking together in the New Oasis.’
His eyes on me. Nothing. His eyes on me …
‘The night before the hit,’ I tell him –
In the dark. Senju shifts his weight. In the dark. Senju hisses, ‘Get out, detective! Go now! Quickly before I change my mind…’
I slide back on my knees towards the door, the stairs –
‘Red apple to my lips, blue sky silently watching…’
In the dark, Senju is getting to his feet. In the dark, Senju is rising, saying, ‘You want your drugs, you be here tomorrow night.’
*
I open the door to the borrowed office at Atago. Fujita still not here. They are all asleep now. Fujita gone again. I put my head down on my desk. But Fujita will be back. I still can’t sleep. Fujita is safe now. Tomorrow I will sleep. Tomorrow Fujita will return. Tomorrow …
Everything will fall into place. Everything will turn out fine –
Tomorrow Kai and the First Team will make their arrest –
Tomorrow the killer will confess to both crimes –
Tomorrow everything will fall into place –
Everything will turn out fine –
Everything will end –
‘Boss … Boss…’
I open my eyes –
‘The advertisement is from the Asahi newspaper,’ says Nishi. ‘It ran on the nineteenth of July…’
‘Thank you,’ I tell him –
Nishi smiles. Nishi asks, ‘So is it time to go and wake up the ladies of the Salon Matsu yet?’
*
The streets are dark and silent now, the heat heavy still, as we walk up Hibiya-dōri and show our passes again and again as we walk in front of the illuminated Dai-Ichi Assurance Building, Emperor MacArthur’s Headquarters opposite the darkened Imperial Palace of the old Emperor, as we walk on up past the Imperial Theatre and the Meiji Seimei building, then the Yūsen building and the Kaijo building, to Marunouchi and Ōtemachi –
The old Mitsubishi Town …
Here most of the modern steel and concrete buildings are still standing, just the odd ones gutted here and there; here where the Victors rule from their offices and their barracks; here in the new heart of Occupied Tokyo –
Same as the old heart …
Now Kimura, Nishi and I cut under the tracks of Tokyo station to Kanda –
Here, less than a mile from the Emperors old and new, few of the wooden buildings are still standing. There were train yards here once. Family businesses. Bicycle shops. Homes. Now there are only burnt-out ruins and makeshift shelters, rare clusters of old timber houses that were spared and sudden alleys of one-storey offices that have sprung up among the fields of weeds and mountains of ashes, the braziers and lanterns, the guitars and girls, the songs and shouts –
‘Asobu …? Asobu …? Asobu …? Asobu…?’
From the alleyways and the doorways with their permed hair and painted faces, they coo and they call, luring and then leading their catches back to the shabby little buildings where their foreign names and Japanese prices are written on placards or posters –
Off-limits. Off-limits. Off-limits. Off-limits …
The Salon Matsu is just another shabby little building stained with dirt among all the other shabby little buildings stained with dirt, an unlit pink neon sign the only new thing here. I slide open the cracked glass door. There is a young Korean man sat in the genkan, before a split noren curtain. The Korean has a pageboy haircut and spectacles, loud-coloured trousers and a grey undershirt –
He sees us. He stands up. He starts to speak –
‘Shut up!’ I tell him. ‘Police raid!’
I tell Kimura to wait with the Korean in the genkan and then I lead Nishi through the split curtain into the kitchen-cum-waiting room where three Japanese women are sat with their blouses wide open and their skirts up round their thighs, fanning themselves –
They look up at us. They sigh. They roll their eyes –
‘What do you want this time?’ asks the oldest –
I tell her, ‘We’re from Tokyo Metro HQ.’
‘So what?’ she says. ‘We’ve paid.’
I offer her a cigarette. She takes it. I light it for her. I ask her, ‘Are you the mama here then?’
‘So what if I am?’ she asks, and then she winks and says, ‘You after a free ride?’
I take out the envelope. I take out the clipping from the Asahi. I show her the advertisement. I ask her, ‘Are you still hiring?’
‘Why?’ she laughs. ‘You’re too ugly even for here.’
The other girls laugh. I hand out more cigarettes –
I ask her, ‘Do you do the interviews yourself?’
‘Why?’ she asks again. ‘So what if I do?’
‘Come on, play the game,’ I tell her. ‘Answer the questions and then we can all go home.’
She snorts. She says, ‘Home? Where’s my home? This is my home, officer. You like it?’
‘Listen,’ I tell her. ‘The body of a young girl was found up in Shiba Park, up behind Zōjōji. It had been there a while and it is impossible to identify…’
Now they are listening to me, smoking my cigarettes, sweating like pigs and fanning their thighs; the pictures in their heads, the pictures behind their eyes –
The Dead …
‘This advertisement was in one of her pockets, so we are here to see if you can identify her, help us put a name to her body…’
‘So how did she die?’ asks one of the girls –
The picture in her head, behind her eyes …
‘Raped and then throttled,’ I say –
The pictures of the Dead …
There is silence here now, behind the split curtain in this kitchen-cum-waiting room, silence but for the giggles and the groans from upstairs rooms, the panting and the pounding –
Ton-ton-ton-ton-ton-ton-ton-ton-ton-ton …
‘Who says she came here first?’ asks the mama. ‘Poor thing might have been on her way here when…’
‘That’s what I’ve come to find out, to talk to you about…’
‘But you haven’t given us a description,’ she says. ‘How would I know if she was here or not?’
I ask her again, ‘So do you do the interviews yourself?’
‘Not just me,’ she says. ‘Me and Mr. Kim do them.’
‘Is that him outside?’ I ask her. ‘Mr. Kim?’
‘He’s a Kim,’ she laughs. ‘But not him.’
‘Where’s the real Mr. Kim then?’
‘He’ll be here tomorrow.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘Recruiting.’
‘Where? Where? Where?’ she laughs and rolls her eyes. She puts out her cigarette. She picks up a mirror. She primps her perm –
I think about her all the time. I think about her all the time …
‘Ninety per cent of all the girls that come through our door have come from the International Palace,’ she says. ‘Now that doesn’t mean your dead girl did, but it doesn’t mean she didn’t…’
I turn to Detective Nishi. I tell him, ‘Please describe the body and the clothing of the victim for this lady.’
But Detective Nishi is miles away, lost between the breasts and thighs of these girls. Now Nishi blushes, reaches for his notebook and stammers, ‘The victim was approximately seventeen or eighteen years old with shoulder-length permed hair, wearing a yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress, a white half-sleeved chemise, dyed-pink socks and white canvas shoes with red rubber soles…’
‘We’re all corpses then,’ laughs the mama. ‘All ghosts…’
‘It could be anyone,’ says another one of the girls –
Made of tears. Made of tears. Made of tears …
‘She’s all of us,’ says the mama. ‘Every woman in Japan.’