The Last Train (Detective Hiroshi Series Book 1)

by Michael Pronko

  Hiroshi looked through the photographs, imprinting the faces and bodies into his memory. There were several different women, but Michiko was in most.

  “When were these taken?” Hiroshi asked, holding up several of Takamatsu and Michiko.

  “Two nights ago. They arrived at our home this morning. Before I knew he was in the hospital.”

  Hiroshi took out three of the photos, shuffled through them again, checking carefully, then handed the three back to her and said in a quiet, even voice, “Can you get rid of these three for me?”

  She took them, stifling tears with a hand on her face and nodded her head yes.

  “She’s wearing a different outfit in those three. And it’s a different place and different day. We don’t want to complicate things.”

  He placed the photos back in the envelope and tucked them under his arm. Takamatsu’s wife folded the three photos and jammed them into her purse, and then put her hand on the bed rail, steadying herself.

  Takamatsu’s one eye rolled toward the morphine drip. His wife pressed it, sending him floating away on the relief it offered. She turned away.

  Takamatsu bent his fingers to bring Hiroshi closer.

  Hiroshi bent low to his lips to listen.

  “You can’t solve this sitting in your office,” Takamatsu whispered, and then drifted off.

  Chapter 37

  Arranged three tiers high and hundreds wide on rows of crumbling stone, the round-headed, child-monk statues looked calmly over the temple grounds of Zojoji Temple. Green and gray moss speckled the older, weather-worn statues, but the newer ones sported neatly knit bibs and bright caps, accenting their cherubic features. Reiko had paid for two and Michiko for four. They had to stoop over to tie the red bibs and caps on the small, stone Jizo statues.

  “Why four, Michiko? You were always so careful.”

  “It’s not for that,” Michiko answered, arranging flowers they had bought nearby. “The priests will do a mizuko memorial service for anyone. If you pay.”

  “What do you mean?” Reiko asked. “You never explain anything anymore.”

  Michiko hugged her best friend tight with both arms and kissed her on the top of her head. “These will take care of their souls. And ours, too.”

  “They look so cute, don’t they?” Reiko said.

  “Compassionate.”

  “The monk said something about waiting for all humans to be saved, but I don’t quite get that.”

  “It just means, stay calm and be patient.”

  The rows of squat little statues lined a rectangular area in the lower garden of the temple. From there, steep, wide steps led up to the imposing main building, above which sprang Tokyo Tower. The tower’s orange and white lattice of bolted prefab steel loomed skyward above the temple’s earthy, wooden elegance.

  “Do you still think about them?” Michiko asked.

  Reiko shook her head. “It upset me at the time. But I couldn’t do what Natsumi did and settle down as a mom.”

  “Stay in Kawasaki and open a fruit and vegetable store?”

  “You have to see her before you leave,” Reiko said.

  “If I have time.” Michiko shook her head. “I’ve been sending her money. She stopped sending it back finally.”

  “That’s not the same as seeing her,” Reiko said.

  “She doesn’t want me around her daughter.”

  “That’s not true. She’s a good student, Natsumi told me. Like you were.”

  “I set something up for her to go to college.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A trust fund. It will help pay for her college when she gets in.”

  “You can do that?”

  “I would have set one up for you, too, if you’d let me.”

  “I’m doing fine. Really. You deserve your money.”

  “Why don’t you move in to my apartment at least?”

  “I’m fine where I am. How long are you going to be gone?”

  “I don’t know. Couple years. Maybe longer.”

  “Don’t say that,” Reiko said and took Michiko’s arm.

  They looked up at the main temple building and Tokyo Tower slicing the sky behind it.

  “Did you ever go up there?” Reiko asked.

  “No. What about you?”

  “I’m scared of heights. I’d pee my pants!” Reiko said.

  “Maybe that’s what turned the tower orange!”

  They laughed and hugged.

  “Ready for shopping?”

  “Let’s go!”

  They picked up their purses and designer bags, and slung them over their elbows, hands in the air, Tokyo style.

  At the temple gate, they hopped into a taxi to Venus Fort, a huge shopping complex in Odaiba Bay that was devoted exclusively to women. Every female fantasy, need and whim was catered to: cosmetics, jewelry, accessories, lifestyle goods, designer clothing, and shoes and shoes and shoes. Everything, from artisanal chocolate to sex toys, was offered with women in mind.

  Inside the sprawling floors of shops, faux-sunlight fell over lovingly replicated imitations of European streets—the Rue de Rivoli, Fifth Avenue, Bond Street and Via Montenapoleone. The lighting delivered the illusion of a sunny day, every day, before the lights dimmed later to recreate an evening sunset and later again a night stroll.

  Along the streets, travel consultants offered special tour packages for women. Handsome maître d’s stood smiling outside theme restaurants. Even the restroom facilities were designed for women, with double the number of stalls and mirrors so there was never any wait. Though the original design had been altered to welcome boyfriends, husbands and lovers, and a new section for families was added, Venus Fort was still a place of, by and for women.

  “Where to first?” Reiko asked. “This is a long way from Takeshita Dori.”

  “Is it?” Michiko asked. “Maybe we’re just getting older.”

  Reiko stopped and smiled. “How did they find me at Les Chats Gris?”

  Michiko stopped and looked back at her. “I don’t know how they found you there,” Michiko said. “However they did it, you really saved me.”

  “When that first cop found me, I figured I’d lead him to you and let you handle him.”

  “Him, I could understand. I knew him before.”

  “But the second one, the younger handsome one, made me worry something was wrong.”

  Michiko thought it through again, how they knew that coffee shop.

  “Is it?” Reiko asked.

  “Is what?”

  “Is something wrong?”

  Michiko smiled and shook her head. “Cops are always easy to track down, but you saved me a lot of time—the one thing I’m running out of.”

  “I’m not that naïve,” Reiko said in a serious voice. “I know you’re in trouble.”

  Michiko said, “I’m getting out of trouble.”

  Reiko looked her friend in the eyes, searching—as she always had—for a sign that everything really was all right.

  “I still have a couple of things left to do.” Michiko started walking again, but Reiko stood still.

  “Reiko, really. I’m just finishing up a few things. You can come and visit after I get settled in Europe. Promise?”

  Reiko nodded, but didn’t say anything more. She took Michiko’s arm in hers as they walked to the end of the imitation Venetian street in silence.

  Finally, Reiko said, “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “Crepe? Like in Harajuku!” Reiko started talking like the young girl she used to be, in excited, singing tones.

  “That’s the best thing Natsumi ever taught us!”

  “Well, almost!”

  They snickered, hurrying toward the crepe stand.

  “You used to be able to eat three in a row! I could only finish two.”

  “Remember when Natsumi threw up her whole crepe on that guy? It smelled sugary!”

  They both laughed.

  At the crepe shop, t
hey hungrily watched the young guy behind the counter load a round crepe with a mound of ice cream, spoonfuls of strawberry jelly and a heap of whipped cream with sprinkles. They sat down on a bench by a scale-model fountain from the Jardin de Luxembourg. The two women clutched their fully loaded crepes in one hand and spooned in big bites with the other.

  “How will I contact you over there?”

  “It’s better if I don’t tell you for now. In case another cop finds you!”

  Reiko was quiet as she chewed the last bites of her crepe. “If you’re in trouble, let me help.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I can do something.”

  “You’re doing something already. You’re taking me shopping.” Michiko jumped up and tossed the paper wrapping from her crepe into the trash.

  “Come on! Let’s go!” Reiko whooped in accented English.

  They walked arm in arm, looking in store windows. The airbrushed clouds and the painted-blue sky felt as wide and high as a real sky on the nicest day of the year.

  “Is this how it really looks?” Reiko asked.

  “Europe? You’ll have to come and see for yourself.”

  “Don’t think I won’t!”

  “I think you will!”

  “Where do I get a passport?”

  “Oh, Reiko. There’s an office, in Ginza.”

  Reiko nodded her head. Michiko was her main source of useful information.

  They kept walking until they got to a luggage shop on a narrow medieval-looking street. They went in, and a saleswoman came right over to help. She explained the features of the bags, kneeling down to demonstrate. Another saleswoman wheeled over more choices, until the center of the shop was filled with bags.

  All four women compared the bags, point by point, opening one then the other, turning pieces of luggage over to look inside, then righting and rolling each back and forth. They rejected them one by one until a mid-sized maroon bag with dark blue straps won them over for originality, functionality and design.

  “I’m buying it for you!” Reiko shouted and did a little jump of joy. She followed the sales woman to the counter where she pulled out her wallet and handed over several fresh bills.

  Michiko gave Reiko a hug as they walked out, Michiko pulling the new suitcase behind. “Thanks, Reiko. I really needed this.”

  “You seem to have everything already.”

  “Now I’ll have room for the trophy from the English contest.”

  “You’re taking that?”

  “It’s the best thing anyone ever gave me,” Michiko said.

  “You mean stole for you?”

  “You also stole that video camera. That was useful.”

  Reiko laughed. “You mean that time we were making those videos and that guy slipped—”

  “And had to go to the hospital—”

  “His head was bleeding so much!” They both laughed.

  “You’re the one who pushed him!” Michiko pushed Reiko.

  “You’re the one who bit him.”

  “I couldn’t help it, I was choking!” Both of them collapsed in laughter.

  “And then the cameraman.”

  “He couldn’t operate anything!”

  “Wonder where those guys are now.”

  “I saw one of them—” Michiko said and went quiet.

  “You mean, that year?”

  Michiko nodded her head, suddenly serious.

  Reiko took her arm and pulled her close. “In Kobe? The one who pretended to be a director?”

  “Yeah, him.”

  “You never told me. Was that what it was?” Reiko hesitated to probe, not wanting to bring up Michiko’s pain again.

  After a long pause, Michiko said, “That wasn’t what it was. What it was, was I learned how things really are.”

  ***

  It was endless humiliation and pain. After the penthouse where they first took her, they weren’t so careful of her looks. She stayed for a long time in one room, a long drive from the first place—and lost track of where she was.

  She ate what they gave her, but she knew it was filled with sedatives. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She would fall asleep after eating, and sleep for hours, perhaps days, only to wake up, again and again, unsure of where, and then who, she was.

  The men told the kinbaku-bi rope tying master to leave her strung up for hours at first, coming at her in shifts, between which she was left bound in hemp rope shibari, alone for a time on the tatami or a thin futon until they wanted her again. Then, back to the same room at night, same food, same sedative.

  She could hear the men’s voices, even when she could no longer feel them. The drugs put her beyond pain, beyond caring, her eyes always closed against the lights. She floated through days, unable to muster the energy, the will, to try again to kill one of them. They beat her badly the first two times she tried. After that, they increased whatever it was they put in the food.

  When they wanted her cleaned up, they let her bathe, which cleared her head and helped her to come back to herself. But then, when she was clean, it was always worse.

  When Shibata finally got her released, it took her half a year to sweat the drugs out of her system. The rope burns on her wrists and ankles left smooth, hard callouses. She had them surgically removed.

  ***

  Reiko held her friend close, wondering how bad it could have been, but not wanting to ask. Michiko had told her almost nothing, but Reiko knew one day she could confide it all.

  “Money’s the only thing that can keep you safe.” Michiko said.

  “That’s what your father always told us,” Reiko said. “But it’s friends, too.”

  Michiko came back from where her mind had gone and looked at Reiko. “The trust of friends.”

  Reiko waited for Michiko to calm down, knowing her inner storms no longer lasted as long as they used to. When it seemed the rage had passed, Reiko urged Michiko on.

  “Let’s not get old,” Michiko said.

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Reiko asked.

  Chapter 38

  “The monks are free between one and three today. And you mentioned photos in last night’s text, but I don’t see any here.”

  Hiroshi blinked his eyes and looked around his apartment. He rose to an elbow and tuned in to Akiko’s voice. “Thanks for waking me. I have the photos with me.”

  He wanted to keep them in his own hands, to hear what Sakaguchi would say.

  “Are you coming here or going straight to the temple?”

  “Depends on how soon I can start moving. Any news on Takamatsu?”

  “Sleeping, but stable.”

  Hiroshi hummed.

  “Anything else?” Akiko asked, much more softly than usual.

  “I can’t think of anything. But, I can’t think.”

  Hiroshi swung his legs over his sofa and stared at Linda’s boxes stacked against the wall. He needed to seal them and send them. He wanted to get rid of the clutter and to sleep on the bed again. More boxes were piled there. Sleeping on the couch and his office futon-chair was draining him. Linda was right: work was procrastination for life, and life was an excuse for not focusing on work.

  Hiroshi stumbled to the shower, kicking aside the scrubbers, sponges, buckets and stool—all the bath things he bought for her. He could picture Linda’s skin steaming and flushed from the hot water. The bath was his only real cultural success with Linda. She took to it like a tropical fish. Afterwards, she always stood with her hip cocked, a towel around her, another towel in hand, drying her hair to the side.

  He opened his eyes. Mold was spreading along the tile and around the drain.

  He dressed in a hurry and stopped in the Chinese chukka restaurant wedged into the outside corner rooms of his apartment building. The cook no longer asked what he wanted. He ordered the same every time: shrimp fried rice and pork dumplings. They had no reason to speak. The silent predictability of it left him time to be with himself, to prepare for a noisy, rush-ar
ound, people-filled day.

  ***

  Akiko and Sakaguchi were waiting in his office when Hiroshi arrived.

  “The monks are waiting. You ready?”

  “Just need a quick coffee,” Hiroshi said.

  “Are those the photos?” Sakaguchi asked.

  Hiroshi handed them over. There were photos of Takamatsu and Michiko huddling in a doorway, walking and laughing, standing on a train platform. Most were grainy and distant, a long lens at night, but clear enough.

  “When were you going to tell me?” Hiroshi asked Sakaguchi.

  “Tell you what?” Sakaguchi replied, looking through them again slowly.

  “About Takamatsu. Your former investigation. The money. Knowing her before.”

  “Who knew if it was connected? Takamatsu went to find out.”

  “You must have known when you saw her photo.”

  “I could guess, but I didn’t know.”

  “And the money? From before?”

  “That was Takamatsu. I’m the one that got demoted.”

  Akiko went back to her desk, shuffling papers but listening closely.

  Hiroshi stood over Sakaguchi, whose bulk filled the chair. “So, Takamatsu dragged me into this as his surrogate?”

  Sakaguchi shrugged. “We got tripped up on the English before. The investigations were almost done, a solid case, but the English was holding us back. We were missing something in the documents and messages.”

  “So, you just need me as a translator? That’s what this is all about?”

  “No, it’s more than that.”

  “You want me to take care of the money for you? A little trick accounting?”

  Sakaguchi spoke calmly. “We had trouble with that, too. Takamatsu couldn’t handle it.”

  “He took some of it?”

  “No, he had too much. It was going to be used as bait. If we hadn’t done what we needed to do to get the cash in hand, we’d never have gotten as far as we did.”

  “Where did they find it?”

  “Takamatsu had it in a locker at a train station. Stupid, I know, but safer than anywhere else. The chief sent someone to follow him one day.”

  “So, I’m cleaning up your mess.”

  Sakaguchi eased himself forward and pushed himself up from the chair. “There’s no cleaning up that mess. Let’s focus on this one.”