“You’re not being harassed by the guys out in the patrol car, are you?” I filled up our cups with shochu and fruit juice. It was the only way I liked to drink shochu, a hard liquor similar to vodka I only liked in mixed drinks. I should’ve just bought chuhai (pre-mixed shochu and a juice) but this was more cost effective, and I was all about being cost effective.
“Those guys?” She waved her hand and scoffed, twirling her long hair over her shoulder and fluffing her bangs. “Please. I’ve known them half my life. I would invite them in for dinner like I do most nights, but I thought we’d gossip. I’m sure they’ll be in to use the bathroom.”
I sighed, relieved. “That’s good. I’ve been worried.”
“Mei-chan, you’ve been living in the city too long. This is Chikata, remember? I see the same people practically every day, especially when I work in town. I walk into pharmacies and I’m greeted by name. I stop into the koban and check on the men and women working there, ask about their families and bring them gifts at the holidays. This is my life.”
I imagined Akiko picking up prescriptions for her patients, smiling and laughing, cracking jokes with the police officers in the local police boxes. Her face fell into a frown.
“Well, it was my life. I hope it is again someday soon.”
I covered her hand with mine. “We’re going to figure out who did this so you can get back to normalcy.”
Her eyes drifted over the area between the kotatsu and the TV, past the space heater blowing warm air on us from the corner. “He died right here, you know?” A wave of chills covered me from head to toe. I wished I could turn up the heater on the kotatsu. “He was laying here on the floor when I came home. Nothing weird or out of place. It took me a full minute to realize something had happened to him.”
The hair on my head stood up, creeped out by being in the same spot Akiko’s dad was in when he died.
“Did you burn incense?” I asked, sneaking a glance at the surrounding area and hoping his spirit was not floating over the table.
“Absolutely I did,” she said, pulling back in shock. “I said prayers for three days straight, burnt incense, and brought his favorite pair of chopsticks to the funeral to be burned with him. I hope his spirit is resting in peace.” She looked up at the ceiling and mouthed another prayer. “I’ll have to go to the temple again soon.”
“Good idea.” I grabbed each of us another piece of pizza and took a bite. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re doing okay, considering.”
“I’m tired of being in the house, but I’ll stay as long as I need to. Goro-san says they’re checking evidence and following leads, and that the car outside is more for my safety than anything. They don’t want the murderer coming back and killing me too.” Her eyes sparkled with tears.
“Hey, hey. Don’t worry about it. You’ll be fine.” I patted her back and rubbed her shoulder. Poor thing! I wanted to hug her and bring her home with me so she could feel safe and secure, like when we were kids. “We’ll all be fine. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay.” She sniffed up and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Can you believe Haruka is dating my brother?” She stuck her tongue out. “I never liked her.”
“Me neither. And they’re not just dating, they’re engaged. Do you know when the wedding will be?”
She sipped on her drink. “I’m not sure. They haven’t set a date yet. Maybe next summer?”
“So, they got engaged recently?” I asked, trying not to pry too much.
“Earlier this year, in February, I think. I was going to say something but…” She stopped and looked at me, my mouth full of pizza.
“What?”
“Well, you know. You two dated, so I didn’t know if there would be hard feelings.”
I waved my hand and refilled our glasses. “That was ages ago. Ages. Have I even mentioned him in the last five years?”
“No.”
“Exactly. I’ve dated three other guys since Tama. He’s history.”
“You’re right. I should’ve known better.”
Time to change the subject. “Tell me more about Takahara and Midori Sankaku.”
Akiko quickly checked her phone as it buzzed at her. “So much email. Anyway, I’m sure your mom knows more than I do. They’re opening that big store, which I can’t wait to shop at, and then there’ll be a huge greenhouse behind here next year sometime.” She waved to the fields behind her house. “They plowed down the houses on both lots earlier this summer. It’s been weird watching the land change over time.” She ate more pizza, picking at the cheese. “And of course, they’d love to buy our land too, but I want to live here forever if I can. Besides, I can’t stand Takahara. He hits on anything with a pulse.”
“Really?” So my instincts about him were true. He seemed overly eager to get me on his side, and the way he followed me home gave me nightmares. I woke up in a cold sweat that night.
“He’s already dated most of the eligible, hot women in town. He won’t touch the ugly ones,” she said, snickering. Then she threw her hair over her shoulder. “He even tried to ask me out on a date. Can you believe it? I refused him. I’m no fool. Supposedly, he’s quite a player. If you Google him, you’ll see.”
I made a mental note to gather more evidence on him. He sounded intriguing yet revolting.
“Anyway, despite being hounded about selling my land, I’m excited about all the changes in town. So many stores had gone out of business or left. Lots of people abandoned their property and moved to Tokyo, too. Now, things are beginning to change. I think we got lucky because of our access to the highway and we have our own train station.”
“I’m certainly curious about the new things in town. Maybe I could get a job somewhere local.”
Akiko slid her eyes to the side at me. “Maybe you could work at Sawayaka?” She produced a small, sly smile.
I laughed, hard, my stomach cramping and the guffaws lessening into giggles. “Have you ever seen me work at a restaurant? I’d be a disaster. I couldn’t work in a kitchen because I’d burn the place down.”
I shivered when I thought about fire. I had the scars on my back to prove I should never be around things that flame.
“Yes, you’re a horrible cook. I was thinking more of a hostess job.”
“They have a hostess. I’m sure I’m over-qualified anyway.”
Akiko paused, pursing her lips and looking to the ceiling. “You could help out with sales?”
My brain overloaded with irritation. I loved Akiko, but I hated her meddling. “What’s up with all these suggestions for me and Sawayaka?” I tried to laugh it off, though I wanted to kick her under the table.
She laughed. “Well, with you challenging Suga-san, I was sure you liked him.”
I grumbled, “Like him? I don’t even know him. And he thinks that women only eat salads.”
“I doubt that. He was just joking. He has a Western sense of humor. You should be fine with that, what with all the American TV you watch.”
I did watch a lot of American TV, and Akiko was familiar with my love of Friends, How I Met Your Mother, and The Big Bang Theory. Their sense of humor had rubbed off on me the last few years. But I didn’t expect Japanese people to have that sense of humor. When they said something like that, I expected them to act like a jerk, not be joking.
“You think he was joking around?”
“I do. I’ve met him a few times. He’s a nice guy. Not my type but kind. Generous.” Her phone buzzed again and she glanced at the screen. “He was dating someone kinda famous, though I don’t know anything about it.”
“Whatever,” I said, brushing off the conversation. “I’m sure he has a girlfriend. He’s too handsome and successful not to be single.”
Akiko laughed at me, as a blush bloomed on my face. Had I really said that out loud? Damn alcohol. “Sure, Mei-chan. You’re probably right. He’s super hot. I’m sure he’s already snapped up some celebrity in Tokyo.” Her phone lit up again and she sighe
d. “My patients miss me. Hey, it’s almost 20:00 and Fuji TV has a new drama I wanted to check out. Want to?”
She wiggled the TV remote at me, so I smiled and nodded. I loved to see her happy.
“Sure. If I fall asleep at the kotatsu, wait till the last possible moment to wake me up.” I sat back with my drink, relaxed and at ease. I could get used to this.
“You got it,” she said, turning on the TV.
Chapter Fourteen
The rest of my week encompassed all the little things in my new life. I worked the fields in the morning with Mom, trimming plants, pulling up weeds, harvesting turnips, daikon, carrots, and parsnips. My hands ached from the pulling, twisting, and digging, and my back suffered from the carrying. Baskets full of root vegetables sat in the barn for a day or two until they were picked up for delivery to the local stores. We kept as many vegetables in the ground as possible until the first light frost because they’d keep better through the winter. Mom had been saving newspapers for the past month so we could wrap up root vegetables after the season ended and store them in the barn.
Had I been doing any detective work? Not really. I spent some time with Akiko every day under the watchful eye of the cop outside of her house, and I listened to everything she had to say about Tama, her father, and her patients, but usually she just cried, and I held her hand or tucked her into bed before I slipped out the door and got back to work. I had a feeling I was going to lose my bet with Goro. I filled out my list of suspects and did some digging on each one via Google, but I didn’t get far because I had no real idea what I was doing. I had better start training for that run and get used to the idea everyone would see me in my underwear come November.
Every time I went into the barn during harvesting, I avoided the loft, but at the end of the week, I was finally ready to climb up there and inspect the remains of my past. The stairs creaked as I ascended into the dusty space above the tractor we used in the spring. On the right, under the window, sat the old couch I used to sit on and read, the spot where Tama and I slept together for the first and many times after. A plastic tarp covered it, and I could imagine the upholstery underneath was pristine. Mom was pretty thorough about taking care of this place. My old canvasses, some half drawn on or painted, others blank, leaned against the adjacent wall, next to my easel and tackle boxes of paints. On the left, Mom’s fire-proof file cabinets sat against the wall, carrying her precious documents and other things she needed to run the farm.
The Mount Fuji painting used to take up the space to the rear of my canvasses, but the wide wall stood empty, begging to be filled. I grabbed the top tackle box and popped it open. Tubes of acrylic paint lined the top tray, like I’d left them in there yesterday. Several were unopened and moved when I squeezed them, but a few had seized up. Wow. I was lucky! I’d heard acrylic paint could last ten years or more, especially if they were kept in the fridge, but the temperature fluctuated up here and I expected worse.
I flipped through the few canvasses left and placed one on the easel. I had scratched a few hasty pencil sketches onto it, but nothing seemed familiar. Hmmm. I turned the canvas around 180 degrees and there! Yes. I had planned to paint a lake with a torii gate and a mountain in the background. I never understood this about myself. I loved modern life. I loved my phone, my computer, and the city. Yet, when it came to painting, I only ever wanted to capture the world in its splendor, natural and real. I didn’t paint people. I didn’t paint animals. I hadn’t tried abstract or modern, though I loved to look at both. I was attracted the most to natural landscapes.
I was a host of perplexing contradictions.
“Mei-chan?” Mom called.
“In the loft!”
The stairs squeaked as she climbed up.
“Wow. I haven’t seen you up here in ages.” Mom joined me at the canvas and wrapped her arm around my waist. “What was this going to be?” She turned her head to the side. “A lake?”
“Yeah,” I said, sweeping my hand up. “Mountain and torii gate, too.”
“Ah, yes. I see it. How are your paints?”
“Good.” I set aside my first tackle box and looked in the second one. “Most are okay. I’ll have to make a list of what I need. And I want to go back to oils for Chiyo’s painting, so I’ll have to reinvest in at least the basics.”
“And new paint brushes and canvases, too. I’ve put money on your dresser in your room. We’ll see if you can find it.” She winked at me. My room was still a mess.
“Thanks, Mom.” Normally I wouldn’t have taken money from her, but I knew I’d earned a week’s worth of wages already, so I wouldn’t try to give it back to her like I used to.
“You should take my car into the city tomorrow. The canvas to make Chiyo’s painting will be too big to bring on the train.”
“Sekaidō and Yuzawaya are both open tomorrow, but I planned to stay home and help out around here.”
Mom smacked me on the shoulder. “We don’t work on the weekend unless we have to. This is the farm life. We make our own hours.” She smiled as I looked at her in wonder. Make my own hours? For the last four years, I’d lived by office hours plus nights out drinking with coworkers. Before that, it was school, school, and more school. Never a moment to myself. This was a whole different life.
“Any chance you can pick up some things for us in the city while you’re there?”
I broke into a laugh. “Like what?”
“Saké, of course! And shochu. We need to stock up.”
My mom, the lush.
“Of course.”
Mom glanced around the space, shuffling back and forth on her feet. “I’m not sure if you’ll survive a winter in here, Mei-chan. The barn gets so cold, and we only have the old electrical outlet downstairs.”
“Can I bring up the gas space heater?” We had a few in the house for the dreadfully cold winter days.
“Sure. Just be careful. Only run it when you’re in here.” Mom turned to descend the stairs but halted. “Are you excited about your week of lunches at Sawayaka?” She tried to ask this innocently but excitement edged into her voice. “I heard Yasahiro-san is pulling out all the stops to prove to you his food is the best there is.”
“Mom,” I whispered, waving at her and trying to get her to stop nagging me. “I’m sure it’s no big deal. He probably already hates me for challenging him. So many men can’t stand that.”
“Please. He’s a chef. Being challenged is his life. He loves it or else he never would have done it.”
Really? I’d figured he’d be angry, fitting in the challenge amongst his other work. Especially during lunch hour, which must be busy for him.
“How do you know him? I mean, how did you come to even invest in his business?”
Mom shook her head side to side. “It’s funny the way it happened. I was looking at the same building to buy it when it was up for sale —”
“What were you going to use it for?”
She waved her hand around. “I wasn’t sure. It was just a dream of mine to have my own storefront to sell my own produce and pickles and snack food…” Her eyes glazed over, perhaps imagining her own business where she would’ve served customers all day. Though this sounded a lot like torture to me, I bet Mom would’ve loved it.
“Anyway, when I heard a young chef, trained in France but interested in slow food traditional Japanese cuisine wanted the space for a restaurant, I immediately withdrew my bid on the building and asked to meet him. He started coming to my cooking classes about a year ago, and I gave him a lot of my recipes I’ve had for the last forty years. I know you hate to cook, and I didn’t want those recipes to be forgotten.”
Since I was eight years old, I didn’t hate to cook, I was afraid to cook, afraid to use the stove. I had a healthy fear of fire, and I’d set things aflame in the kitchen a few too many times for my taste. I stuck to the microwave, rice cooker, or boiling water.
“Yasahiro-san trained in France?” I asked and regretted it as Mom smiled, her ey
es gleaming with a devilish tint.
“Paris. He lived there for four years and learned from some of the best chefs in the business. I was pleased to hear he wanted to stay in Japan and cook here. He did well at his last restaurant too, but he wanted a place of his own. His parents are from Chichibu.” Chichibu was only an hour and a half away by car, so he hadn’t settled too far from home.
All of the times I’d daydreamed about Yasahiro being a chef these past few days, I never pictured him in Paris. Several people said he trained in France, but my brain didn’t go there. I stared out the loft window and imagined him sauntering through the streets of Paris, wrapped in a big scarf, carrying a bag of fresh produce, cheese, and a baguette, living in a tiny, chic apartment, drinking wine with friends and eating amazing food.
“Mei-chan —” Mom snapped her fingers in front of my face and laughed. “Oh, I’ve seen that look before.”
“Mom. Stop it.” I ushered her to the stairs. “I was just wondering what he’s going to feed me.” I followed her down, both of our steps making the stairs creak and bounce. Despite knowing how well designed the barn was, I wondered if the loft would come crashing down one day.
“He’ll try to win you over with the basics first. And I must say, he’s quite good at all the traditional dishes. You won’t be disappointed.”
She conveniently forgot how I detested traditional food. Would I be able to fake my reactions to Yasahiro’s cooking? If I was honest, I might offend him, and I didn’t want to make an enemy of him, especially since Mom liked him. I had gotten myself into a stupidly, sticky situation.
“We’ll see, Mom. We’ll see.”
Chapter Fifteen
On Monday, Sawayaka bustled with happy customers at the tail-end of lunch time, and I walked in ready to be wowed. I originally figured I would give him a hard time on purpose, but after hearing his history from Mom, I decided to be lenient and arrive on a positive note. I’d had a light breakfast and went for my first run in over a year, so I was starving and prepared to eat just about anything Yasahiro put in front of me. Ana, at the hostess station, squealed when I approached her.
The Daydreamer Detective Page 9
