Journey Under the Midnight Sun

by Keigo Higashino

  This struck Imaeda as odd. If Yukiho and Ryo were in contact, and Ryo knew that Yukiho’s husband was growing closer to another woman, why hadn’t Yukiho acted? She had to have known what was going on.

  Imaeda took a sip of his coffee, remembering another similarly lukewarm coffee at the Ginza café with Kazunari. What if, Imaeda thought, what if Yukiho didn’t want to stop the affair? What if she wanted a divorce?

  This made sense on a few levels. To borrow Eriko Kawashima’s turn of phrase, Makoto had never been Yukiho’s one and only. What if her husband had fallen for another woman, and she had just decided to wait it out, let the crush bloom into a full-blown affair?

  No, Imaeda thought, shaking his head. Yukiho wasn’t the type to just let things happen like that. But what if Makoto’s encounter with Chizuru, and everything that had developed since, had been part of Yukiho’s plan?

  That was a scary thought. He never would have even considered it if the woman involved was anyone but Yukiho. There was something about her that made him unable to entirely discount the possibility.

  And yet he still doubted it was that easy to control someone’s heart like that. Even if Chizuru Misawa were the most beautiful woman in the world, that wouldn’t guarantee love at first sight. Of course, if there had already been something there, it would be much easier to ensure those feelings were given space to grow.

  Imaeda left the café and found a payphone. Checking his notes, he dialled the number of Tozai Automotive and asked for Makoto Takamiya.

  A couple of minutes later, Makoto was on the phone.

  ‘Hello, it’s Imaeda. I’m sorry to bother you while you’re at work, but I was hoping I could ask you some questions.’

  He heard hesitation on the other side of the line. Clearly this wasn’t someone who enjoyed getting calls from private eyes at work.

  ‘Questions about what?’

  ‘Actually, it would be best if we could meet and talk in person.’ Imaeda wasn’t about to ask the man how he had fallen in love with his wife over the phone. ‘Would you have time today or tomorrow evening?’

  ‘Tomorrow, sure.’

  ‘Right, I’ll call you again to set up a time.’

  ‘Fine. Oh, wait, there is something I needed to tell you.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘A couple of days ago,’ Makoto lowered his voice, ‘a police detective came to visit me. An older man from Osaka.’

  ‘What did he have to say?’

  ‘He wanted to know if anyone had been asking questions about my ex-wife recently, and I gave him your name. I hope that’s OK.’

  ‘Oh, sure.’

  ‘I hope I didn’t cause any trouble.’

  ‘No, it’s fine. Did you tell him what I did for work?’

  Makoto said he had.

  ‘Right, I’ll keep that in mind,’ Imaeda replied, before saying goodbye and hanging up.

  Imaeda hadn’t even considered the possibility that Sasagaki had gone through Makoto to get to him. That was easy work for him, Imaeda thought. Of course, that made him wonder who was tapping Eri’s phone, if not the police. He had a pretty good idea.

  It was already late when Imaeda returned to his apartment that night. He had run around checking on things for another job all afternoon, then stopped in for the first time in a long while at the bar where Eri worked.

  ‘I always keep the chain on the door whenever I’m at home now,’ she told him. She said she hadn’t noticed any signs that anyone was in her place since that first day.

  On his way back to his building, he had to step around an unfamiliar-looking white van parked on the street right outside the door. He walked up the stairs, swaying a little, his feet feeling heavy. He had reached his door and was fishing around in his pocket for his keys when he noticed a cart out in the hallway, with a large cardboard box folded flat on top of it. It was a big box, large enough to hold a washing machine. He wondered for a moment who had left it there, but not for long. His neighbours weren’t the most polite people, and frequently left rubbish sitting out in the hallway for days. Imaeda had long since given up complaining. He didn’t exactly have a great track record on that count himself.

  Keys out, he unlocked the door, feeling the bolt slide as he turned the lock. The bolt seemed to slide faster than usual. He gave it a few seconds’ thought before deciding he was imagining things.

  Imaeda opened the door, flicked on the lights and looked around the room. Nothing was out of place. His room was as devoid of decoration as usual and covered with dust. The air freshener he used to cover up the smell of dirty clothes hung thick in the air.

  He threw his stuff down on a chair and headed for the toilet. He had a good buzz on and was feeling a little sleepy and a little sluggish. When he turned on the bathroom light, he realised that the fan was already on. That’s a waste of electricity, he thought dimly, fumbling for his zipper as he opened the door. The toilet lid was down, which also struck him as strange. As a long-time bachelor, Imaeda took pride in never lowering the lid. Closing the door behind him, he lifted the lid – and an alarm went off in his head.

  Without being consciously aware of what it was, he knew he was in grave danger. He tried to close the lid, twisting his body to get out of the bathroom as quickly as he could.

  But his body wouldn’t move. He couldn’t even breathe.

  The bathroom spun around him. He felt his body hit something, but there was no pain. All his senses had been robbed from him too. He tried to move his arms, his legs, but he couldn’t even twitch a single finger. Then he had the sensation that someone was standing next to him, but he couldn’t be sure. Maybe I’m just imagining things again.

  Everything went dark.

  TWELVE

  The rainy season had long since passed but still the rain in September was relentless, falling in a dusting of fine droplets that covered the city despite a forecast for clear skies that night. Noriko Kurihara walked past the shops outside Nerima Station in north-western Tokyo. The awnings would keep her dry for most of the ten-minute walk between the station and her apartment.

  She passed by an electronics store and heard the sounds of ‘Say Yes’ by Chage and Aska – the theme song to a popular TV show – blaring out of some speakers. One of Noriko’s co-workers had recently been lamenting the fact that the show was about to end, but Noriko didn’t really care. She rarely watched television.

  Past the shops there was nothing to shield her hair from the rain, so she pulled out a blue-and-grey checked handkerchief and draped it over her head. Just a little farther ahead she ducked into a convenience store where she bought some tofu and leeks. She was tempted to buy a disposable umbrella but balked at the price.

  Her apartment stood right along the train tracks. Two bedrooms, for eighty thousand yen a month. If she had planned to live alone, a smaller place would have been fine, but she had expected to be living with a man. He had, in fact, slept over a few times. Now that was over, she was alone, living in a too-large apartment, but lacking the will to move again.

  I should never have moved in the first place.

  Rain soaked her apartment building’s walls, turning them the colour of mud. She walked up the outside staircase, careful not to brush her clothes against the stucco walls. There were four units on each of the building’s two storeys. Noriko’s was at the far back on the first floor.

  She unlocked the door and opened it. It was dim inside as always. No lights were on in the kitchen, or the living room beyond.

  ‘I’m home,’ she said, hitting the switch on the kitchen wall. She knew he was there because of the dingy sneakers tossed haphazardly in the entrance. He didn’t own any other shoes.

  She went through the living room and opened the door. This room was dark too, save for the wan light spilling from the computer monitor by the window. He was there, sitting cross-legged in front of it.

  ‘Hey,’ she said to his back.

  His hand stopped over the keyboard. He twisted his torso and glanced at the
alarm clock on the bookshelf before looking up at her. ‘You’re late.’

  ‘My boss made me stay. You must be hungry. I’ll make something. Tofu stew OK?’

  ‘Whatever’s fine.’

  ‘Great, it’ll just be a minute.’

  ‘Noriko.’

  She looked around the doorway. The man stood, walked over to her. He put his palm to her neck. ‘You get wet?’

  ‘A little. It’s no big deal.’

  He showed no sign of having heard her. His hand went from her neck down to her shoulder. She could feel his firm grip through her sweater. She fell into his embrace. He sucked on the skin below her ear. He knew all her spots. His tongue and lips moved cleverly, quickly. Noriko felt something like electricity run down her spine.

  ‘I… can’t stand,’ she managed to say.

  He didn’t answer. When she tried to sit, he kept a firm grip, holding her up. Then his hands shifted and he turned her around until she was facing away from him, lifting up her skirt and pulling down her stockings and panties. When he had them to her knees, he stepped on them, lowering them the rest of the way to the floor in a single motion.

  With his hands around her waist she couldn’t even sit, so she leaned forward and grabbed on to the door handle with both hands. The handle squeaked against the wood of the door.

  Keeping his right arm around her waist, he began stroking her. Pulses of sensation shot through Noriko’s body, and she threw back her head.

  She heard him hastily taking off his trousers and underwear. Something hard and hot pressed against her. Then there was pressure, and a sharp pain that spread. She gritted her teeth and bore it. He liked taking her this way.

  Even when he was all the way inside, the pain didn’t stop. Then he started to move, and the pain increased. But that was as bad as it got. Noriko ground her teeth and then, suddenly, the pleasure hit and the pain disappeared so completely, it might as well have never been there.

  He rolled up the front of her sweater and pushed up her bra, squeezing her breasts in both hands. His fingertips played with her nipples. She could hear him breathing, feel the warmth on her neck with each exhalation.

  The orgasm approached slowly, like distant thunder. Noriko’s arms and legs went taut. The man’s thrusting became more violent, until his movements and the ecstasy inside her began to beat at the same frequency. Then lightning broke through her, and she cried as her body trembled. She lost her sense of balance and the world spun.

  Noriko let go of the doorknob. She could no longer stand. Her legs were shaking.

  The man pulled his penis out of her and she collapsed on the floor, shoulders heaving. A ringing sound filled her head.

  Behind her, the man pulled up his underpants and trousers. He was still hard, but he uncaringly buttoned his pants over his erection. Then, as if nothing had happened at all, he returned to his computer. He crossed his legs and began to type in a smooth, natural rhythm.

  Noriko slowly sat up, refastened her bra, and pulled on her sweater. She picked up her panties and stockings from the floor.

  ‘Guess I should get dinner ready,’ she said, putting her hand out to steady herself on the wall as she stood.

  The man’s name was Yuichi Akiyoshi. At least, that was what he had told her.

  She had first met him on a chilly day in the middle of May that year. She’d been walking back to her apartment when she found him curled up on the side of the road. He was skinny, around thirty years old from his looks. He was wearing black denim jeans, and a black leather jacket.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she asked, peering down at him. The man’s face was twisted in a scowl, his hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead. His right hand was clutched to his stomach, but with his other hand he waved her away.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he croaked.

  He didn’t look fine.

  ‘Do you want me to call an ambulance?’

  The man waved his hand again, and this time shook his head.

  ‘Has this happened to you before?’ she asked.

  He didn’t respond.

  Noriko stood there for a moment, then said, ‘Hold on a second,’ before going up the stairs to her apartment. She went inside and poured hot water out of an electric kettle into the largest mug she could find, cooling it off with a little water from the tap, then brought it outside.

  ‘Here, drink this,’ she said holding the mug in front of his face. ‘We’ve got to clean out whatever’s inside your stomach.’

  The man didn’t reach for the cup. Instead, he said something that surprised her.

  ‘You got any booze?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Booze – whisky’s best. If I drink it straight, the pain will go away. That’s what worked before.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said. ‘That’ll just shock your stomach. Drink this first.’ She offered the mug again.

  The man frowned and glared at the mug for a few moments, then finally relented and reached out his hand. He took a sip of the warm water.

  ‘Drink the whole thing. It will help clean you out.’

  The man’s frown deepened, but he said nothing, and drained the mug in one gulp.

  ‘You feel nauseous?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘You should probably try to throw up. Can you?’

  The man nodded and slowly got to his feet. Holding a hand to his stomach, he began to walk towards the back of the building.

  ‘Just do it here. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,’ she called out, but he ignored her and disappeared behind the apartment.

  For a while, he didn’t re-emerge, though she heard the occasional groan. Feeling that she couldn’t just leave him, she stood and waited.

  When he finally returned, he looked a little improved. He sat down on top of a bin by the road.

  ‘Better?’ Noriko asked.

  ‘Yeah. A bit.’

  Still frowning, the man crossed his legs and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He put one in his mouth and lit it with a disposable lighter.

  Noriko snatched the cigarette out of his mouth. He looked at her, still holding the lighter in his hand, his eyes widening.

  ‘Did you know that when you smoke a cigarette your stomach secretes dozens of times more acid than normal? That’s what makes people want to smoke when they’re full. But if you smoke when your stomach’s empty you could damage your stomach lining and get an ulcer.’

  Noriko snapped the cigarette in two. Then she looked around for a place to throw it out before she realised the man was sitting on the bin.

  ‘Could you stand up?’

  He got to his feet and she tossed the cigarette into the bin. Then she turned to him and held out her hand. ‘The box.’

  ‘What box?’

  ‘Your pack of cigarettes.’

  The man grinned. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the pack. Noriko took it and tossed it into the bin. She closed the lid and clapped her hands as though she was brushing off dust.

  ‘You can sit back down now.’