Puppet Master vol.1

by Miyuki Miyabe

  　Even the young people attracted to the retro charm of the city's older districts shunned these “semi-old” areas. It was precisely this kind of neighborhood─with few newcomers, singletons, or young families, and a dwindling population of elderly people with no one to help them─that relied on firms that did odd jobs. Sakazaki catered to this niche, and while there were no large profits to be had, his business thrived and he took personal satisfaction in knowing that he was making a valued contribution to the area.

  　On Friday October 11, the company had a moving job booked from early morning. Sakazaki was already up at 5 AM. His office was situated on the first floor of a twenty-five-year-old wooden house that he rented for 180,000 yen a month; his family occupied the second floor. Beside the front door sat planters filled with his wife's carefully tended flowers, along with their children's bicycles and a tricycle. The two-ton truck that was the tool of his trade was parked in a two-story garage five minutes away, so had it not been for the handwritten sign SAKAZAKI PROFESSIONAL MOVERS: SMALL ITEMS AND ODD JOBS ACCEPTED. NO JOB TOO SMALL! you might not know at a glance that this was a business.

  　Sakazaki went downstairs, unlocked the front door, and stepped outside to get the morning paper. He was on his way back into the house when he noticed a lone paper bag sitting between the wheels of his children's bicycles. It wasn't a colorful department-store bag, but made of strong brown paper, about fifty centimeters on all four sides, with the opening between the handles closed with scotch-tape. He went for a closer look, but it didn't appear to be trash since the bag was clean and the scotch-tape new. Maybe someone had left it behind by mistake? When he picked it up, it felt heavier than he expected. Sakazaki frowned. He tried peering inside it without removing the tape. All he could see was a clod of earth. It was damp, and had what looked like dried grass mixed in with it.

  　What the . . .? He got a sinking feeling. Maybe someone hadn't known how to dispose of the contents of their planters and had dumped it here for him to deal with? No doubt one of those thoughtless good-for-nothings in the neighborhood who tossed their empty cans in the front yards of other people's houses or dumped their trash at the communal collection points on days when there weren't any pickups.

  　Irritably he picked up the bag and carried it to the side of the house where, for the time being, he shoved it out of sight in the half-meter gap between his building and the next-door neighbor's. Potting soil was non-burnable garbage, and there were still a few days before the next scheduled collection. He had no choice but to keep it until then. Some people just didn't have any manners.

  　When he went back inside his house, his wife was up and boiling water in the kitchen. Grimacing, he told her about the bag. She made a face, but said she'd take a look at it later and make sure it was thrown out properly. “It's probably as you say, and they didn't know how to dispose of it so brought it here for us to deal with.”

  　“In which case they should say so!”

  　“They probably thought there'd be a charge.”

  　As they were having their breakfast, the employees turned up for work. Today's job was at the house of an eighty-five-year-old woman in Yayoicho who was moving in with her eldest son and his family in Hachioji. They had prepared a six-mat room for her there, so she wouldn't be able to take everything with her from her old house. In addition to delivering her belongings to her new home, they were to dispose of the unwanted items.

  　It was just after seven by the time Sakazaki finished briefing his team and headed to Yayoicho, and they were already at work by eight. He had been provided with a list detailing all the items to deliver and those to dispose of, but the old woman wasn't having any of it and was giving him a hard time. Given that the son was paying, though, he was stuck in the middle. It wasn't the first time he'd had to deal with this kind of situation, so while they got on with the task at hand he chatted with the old woman, soothing her feathers and even agreeing with her about how unreasonable her son and his wife were being. Yes, you're right, it really is unfeeling of them. They didn't even come to help, did they? But don't be angry. After all, you're getting to live with your son, aren't you? Then the cell phone he'd tucked into the belt of his workpants rang. It was his wife.

  　“It's me.” Her voice sounded strangely shaky. “Um … that bag you told me about this morning? I took a look inside.”

  　“Oh, that. So what's up? Did you find gold nuggets in it?” he asked with a laugh, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

  　“Not exactly. It's nothing to laugh at, actually. It looks like bones.”

  　“Bones?”

  　“Bones. You said it was dirt inside, right? Well in the dirt there's something that looks like a skull. And a hand, or arm or something … those kinds of bones. What should I do? Should I call 110?”

  　“What? Hold on a sec.” Mr. Sakazaki was so taken aback he couldn't think straight. But it wouldn't do if she called the police emergency number and it turned out to be a false alarm. He moved to the side of the road so the other workers couldn't hear him and lowered his voice. “Wait until I get home.”

  　“But you're going to be out at work all day! Hachioji, wasn't it? I don't want to wait until evening. I'm already creeped out enough as it is.”

  　“Just make sure it's somewhere out of sight. Don't worry, it'll be fine. I'm sure it isn't really bones.”

  　“It looks just like a skull.”

  　“It's a model, it's got to be. Come on, don't be silly. Being scared of something like that at your age!”

  　He hung up and went back to work. They managed to load up the truck, sat the old lady in the passenger seat, and set off. They had just cleared the overpass in Koenji when his cell phone rang again.

  　“It's me─”

  　“Again? What's up now? I'm driving.”

  　This time his wife's voice wasn't just trembling, she was verging on the hysterical. “A-a TV crew's just arrived!”

  　“What? You mean ‘Tokyo Special’?” They were the ones who had featured Sakazaki's business on their program before.

  　“No, a news crew. From HBS.”

  　That wasn't a local station, it was a national network. The traffic light had just turned green, but Sakazaki pulled over to the side of the road. Before he could say anything more, his wife told him tearfully, “That bag─it was bones. Someone called HBS to inform them. They're the bones of a missing woman, that's what they said.”

  　Sakazaki's mind went blank.

  While Sakazaki had been mollifying the old woman and loading her belongings into the truck, a call had come into the HBS switchboard.

  　“Hello? I'd like to speak to someone in the newsroom about the Okawa Park case and the Mitaka murder.”

  　The caller was using a voice changer, the switchboard operator noted. Ever since the recent incident when a different TV station had been contacted about the Okawa Park case, an order had been issued internally for any call referring to it to be put through to the newsroom. She had already transferred scores of calls that turned out to be hoaxes. Wondering whether this was another prank, she pressed the button for the newsroom.

  　The reporter who happened to answer turned on the recording equipment before having the call put through. They had already wasted a lot of time over sensationalist hoax callers jumping on the bandwagon, and he wasn't expecting this to be any different. He lit a cigarette and took the call.

  　The first thing the caller said was, “This isn't a hoax.”

  　Yeah, yeah, he thought. That's what they all say.

  　“I'm calling with a tip-off. You're a reporter, right? It's your lucky day. You must have been born with a golden spoon in your mouth.”

  　“Get to the point.”

  　“If you're going to be like that, I'll hang up. You'll be kicking yourself as long as you live. This call is worth a personal commendation from the HBS president himself. Do you understand?”

  　The reporter blinked, partly because
of the smoke in his eyes. Suddenly there was commotion around him, as news came in that a foreign fishing boat had sunk late last night in the Japan Sea off the coast of the Noto Peninsula, and the crew were still unaccounted for.

  　“If the information is that important, then certainly I'd like to hear it,” he said, with as much seriousness as he could muster. A passing reporter winked and came over to listen in, then wrinkled his nose and waved his hand─another hoax.

  　“I want to give all the TV stations a fair chance, and today it's your turn,” the voice said. “Listen up. Near Nakano-Sakaue Station, there's a company called Sakazaki Professional Movers. It's small, so be careful you don't miss it, all right? You'll find Mariko Furukawa's body there.”

  　The reporter shifted in his chair. “Mariko Furukawa? Did I hear you right?”

  　“That's what I said. Pay attention. I left her body in a paper bag for Sakazaki to deal with. I was feeling sorry for old Grandpa Arima, so I thought I'd better send her home.” He gave a screechy laugh then choked. “Go check it out for yourself. It's a scoop. I doubt even the police know about it yet─unless Sakazaki's people called 110, that is. In any case, you'd better get a move on.”

  　The phone cut off. The reporter sat blankly for a moment, then hurriedly did a search for Sakazaki Professional Movers in Nakano. It did exist, and a phone number was listed. A middle-aged woman answered his call, and after identifying himself he asked whether she had noticed any suspicious-looking bags there.

  　Having just gotten off the phone with her husband, Mrs. Sakazaki was in a near panic. In her distressed state she answered without hesitation. “It's got ... bones or something weird in it. I was just wondering what to do about it.”

  　“Leave it where it is,” he told her. “We'll be right over to check it out. Don't call the police yet, okay? It might be a hoax.”

  　Later on there was a big scandal over whether this instruction amounted to obstructing the police investigation; the debate was even taken up in the Diet. At the time, however, none of that ever occurred to Mrs. Sakazaki. She had been at her wits' end over what to do, and was simply grateful to have someone take over for her. Thirty minutes later the news crew turned up. The HBS reporter put on some gloves and began checking the contents of the bag. He soon realized that what was mixed in with the earth was unmistakably skeletal: a skull, the lower jaw, hands and feet, ribs─a human body almost completely reduced to dry bones.

  　“That's no model …” muttered Mrs. Sakazaki, deathly pale, and ran to call the police.

  　The reporter no longer tried to stop her, and the TV camera homed in as she dialed 110, her youngest boy, still in kindergarten, clinging fearfully to her. By this time some of the neighbors had noticed that something out of the ordinary was happening at the Sakazaki's and began coming over to see what was going on. Seeing the reporter talking into the camera, the house opposite turned on the TV and tuned into HBS in time to see regular programming interrupted for a special news bulletin.

  　Amid the uproar and confusion, the bones lay forgotten in the quiet at the center of the storm, laid out on a plastic sheet spread out on the ground. The eye sockets filled with damp earth gazed up at the unfamiliar house to which they had been brought, as if searching for any sign of family or friends. Later that night Mariko Furukawa was positively identified from her dental records.

  　A more lonesome homecoming was hard to imagine.

  Just as HBS was starting its emergency news flash, Shinichi was sitting facing his Aunt Yoshie in a corner of the café in the Yamanoue Hotel. Next to him was Shigeko, who was looking anxiously from one to the other.

  　Shigeko had called the Ishiis soon after Shinichi started staying with her and Shoji. She had tried to get Shinichi on the phone as well, but he had refused. He didn't know what to say. Shigeko arranged for them to meet, hung up, then told him “Mr. and Mrs. Ishii already know the situation.”

  　“It must have been a shock for them.”

  　“They're really worried about you, you know,” Shigeko said.

  　They had agreed some time ago to meet, but it had taken this long to actually make it happen. Yoshie looked at Shinichi and ascertained that he looked healthy, then she apologized.

  　“I wanted to come right away, but … the truth is I was afraid.”

  　“Afraid?” Shigeko looked at her quizzically.

  　“Shin-chan, that girl … Megumi … do you know how she found out where you were living?”

  　Shinichi shook his head.

  　“She used a private detective,” Yoshie said, wrinkling her nose as if she'd just smelled something bad. “Apparently the moving van that brought your belongings was the clue.”

  　Shinichi vaguely remembered the truck that had brought his desk and chair, a small bookcase, and a few clothes from his house in Sawa, the scene of the murders. So that was how.

  　“At the time, my husband was against it,” Yoshie told Shigeko. “He was adamant we shouldn't bring anything from that house. Something so terrible had happened there, we should just leave it all there. But I wanted to let Shinichi bring just a few things, and I dug my heels in. We should've done as my husband said, though. That way they wouldn't have been able to track us down. I'm really sorry, Shin-chan.”

  　Yoshie's voice was hoarse, and Shinichi dropped his gaze. Staring at a red ashtray in front of him, he said, “It was me who said I wanted to bring my desk and a few other things.”

  　Yoshio took a handkerchief out of her bag and dabbed the corners of her eyes.

  　“Neither of you are to blame,” Shigeko said quietly. “The fact that they are chasing after Shinichi is in itself outrageous.”

  　“That girl is out of her mind,” Yoshie spat. “Of all the nerve! Like father like daughter.”

  　“She told you herself that she'd used a private detective?”

  　“Yes, with eyes blazing! I didn't know what was going on. All I knew was that Shinichi had gone, and I was in shock. But she's been coming over every day since, and calling too. Even when I told her that Shin-chan wasn't there any more, at first she wouldn't believe me and accused me of hiding him. Get him out here now! That's what she kept saying. But after a while she seemed to realize that I was telling the truth. At least, that Shin-chan wasn't in our house anymore. So then she started demanding to know where I'd hidden him─but when I kept saying I didn't know, she said she'd find out by herself. That's when she started talking about a private detective.”

  　Yoshie glanced around the hotel entrance. “Since then we've both been paranoid about being followed. I got so scared that I couldn't even go out. Anyhow, that's what she's like─she's capable of anything. Just the day before yesterday we had an expert come and check the house for listening devices. My husband thought we should do it, just in case.”

  　“Auntie, I'm sorry!” Shinichi said. “I'm really, really sorry.”

  　“You don't have anything to apologize for, Shin-chan. You haven't done anything wrong,” Yoshie said, and choked up again.

  　“As I mentioned on the phone, Shinichi is staying at our place for now,” Shigeko said. Shinichi took in how gently she was speaking, so as to reassure Yoshie.

  　There had just happened to be a vacancy─a six-mat room with a tiny kitchen─in the apartment building owned by Maehata Metal Works. Shigeko's mother-in-law hadn't been at all happy about renting it to Shinichi, and Shoji had had to step in. But don't tell Mrs. Ishii about that, Shigeko had warned Shinichi. Don't worry about it, okay? We're on your side─even Shoji said so.

  　Shinichi had discussed his rent and living expenses with Shigeko and Shoji, and together they agreed that he would pay a set amount including meals. Shinichi had a bank account in his own name in which the inheritance from his parents had been deposited. As a general rule, he wasn't able to withdraw from it until he came of age, but some of it had been set aside to cover living expenses. He could draw freely on this when necessary, so for the time being he dec
ided to use it.

  　One of the purposes of meeting up with Yoshie today was for her to report on her discussions with Shinichi's lawyer. “Mr. Yoshida was shocked, too,” she told them. “He said we can't just leave things as they are. Of course, we should go and talk to the detective in charge of your case. And he'll talk to Hideyuki Higuchi's lawyer─well, the defense counsel team, that is.”

  　“Is it possible to stop Megumi through proper legal measures?”

  　Yoshie sighed. “Mr. Yoshida said he'd never heard of a case like this before, so he couldn't immediately give an answer on that. If it were a matter of Megumi threatening us not to give evidence against her father, that would be intimidation, but she's not saying that … although personally I think it amounts to the same thing.”

  　“Whatever her motive, she's a kind of stalker,” Shigeko said. “I wonder if you can get an anti-stalking order or something. The kind that would stop her from going anywhere within two hundred meters of Shinichi, for example.”

  　“I'm told that would take an awfully long time.”

  　“But maybe better to do whatever you can?”

  　Shinichi shook his head. “It's not going to work. She doesn't have a fixed address.”

  　“I remember you mentioning that before, the first time we met,” Shigeko said doubtfully.

  　Shinichi looked up darkly. “I had the same idea and told her so. That I'd tell the police, take her to court, something like that. She just sneered at me.”

  　“What did she say?” Yoshie asked sharply. “What's there to sneer about?”