“What kind of music is it?”
“I don’t really know,” Emiko said. “I’ve just heard the term.”
“I see. We’re both the same, then. Actually, I came across the term in yesterday’s newspaper. When you get to be my age, it’s hard to keep up with the new foreign terms that they use. I had a little time, so I read the piece, wondering what this ‘musique concrete’ was. It seemed to be a critique. But I couldn’t understand it at all. The sentences were complicated.”
“Oh, yes, that was written by Sekigawa-sensei,” Emiko said, her voice suddenly more lively. “I read that article as well.”
“Oh, you did?” Imanishi showed surprise. “But I bet you could understand it.”
“No, it was too difficult for me to understand. But I try to read everything that Sekigawa-sensei writes.”
“Hmm. Do you know him?”
Emiko’s eyes held a confused expression. It took a while for her to reply.
“He comes to the bar where I work every now and then. I know him slightly.”
“Is that so? Actually, I know him also.”
“Oh?” Emiko was surprised. “How do you know him?”
“I’ve never talked to him, and he wouldn’t know me. It’s just that I saw him coincidentally at a train station in Akita Prefecture. He was with several other friends. But somehow I feel a special closeness to people I see on a trip like that.
“I’m envious of young people,” Imanishi continued, reminiscing about the trip. “There were four or five of them at the station. Apparently they were on their way home from looking at a rocket research center. They were full of energy.”
“Is that so?” Emiko listened, her eyes shining.
“One of those young men was Sekigawa-san. After that I saw his face in newspaper photos. And each time I felt nostalgic about that trip. That’s why I read that review though I couldn’t understand it.”
Emiko sighed.
“What kind of person is Sekigawa-san? You said he goes to your bar sometimes.”
“He’s very different from other types of customers,” Emiko said, in a lilting voice. “He’s quiet and one learns so much just listening to him.”
“You’re lucky to have such a good customer at your bar,” Imanishi said. “Are you very friendly with him?”
“No, I don’t know him that well.” Emiko looked troubled. “I just know him as one of our customers.”
“I see. I wonder what kind of life an artistic person like that leads. I suppose he’s always reading books, and thinking?”
“Probably. In his type of work it’s important to keep up with everything.”
“I agree. I’m just a layman, so I don’t know, but I suppose a critic has to write about other things than music?”
“Oh, yes, all kinds of things. Particularly in Sekigawa-sensei’s case. He started off with literary criticism. Since his talents are so wide-ranging, he writes about painting, music, and society, too.”
“I see. He’s so young and yet has studied so much,” Imanishi said, sounding impressed.
His sister brought out some early tangerines. “This is nothing special, but please have some.”
“Oh, please don’t bother.” Emiko looked at her watch in a flurry. “I should be getting ready to go.”
“Don’t say that. Please stay.”
Emiko took one of the tangerines offered her. “This is so delicious,” she said, as she ate it.
The conversation continued, but they did not talk further about Sekigawa.
“Thank you so much,” Emiko said politely and stood up to leave.
“See, I told you,” his sister said, sitting next to him. “She’s a quiet young woman. You’d never guess she was a bar hostess.”
“I suppose not. But she’s really fond of that Sekigawa.”
“I guess so. I could tell that, too.”
“She said he just came to her bar every now and then, but I think there’s more to it than that. Didn’t you notice?”
“What?”
“She’s pregnant.”
“Oh?” his sister look at him with surprise.
“That’s what I think. Am I wrong?”
The sister did not answer right away, but looked at him in amazement. “Brother,” she said with a sigh, “you’re a man, how can you tell?”
“So I’m right, aren’t I?”
“She hasn’t said anything, but I’ve been thinking she must be. How did you figure it out?”
“I just felt it somehow. It’s the first time I’ve seen her face, but I imagine that normally she must have a softer expression. Besides, she ate the whole tangerine. It was so sour, I couldn’t eat mine at all.”
“That’s true. The tangerines aren’t sweet yet.”
“You suspected, too?”
“Yes, I did. She seemed to be throwing up the other day. I thought it might have been something she ate, but since then, too, there’ve been some other indications.”
“I see.”
“Whose child do you think it is?”
“I wonder.” Imanishi sat thoughtfully as he smoked a cigarette.
“That Sekigawa-san might be the one,” his sister said.
“How are we to know that?” Imanishi said reprovingly. “You can’t just gossip like that.”
“You’re right. This is just between us.”
A short while later they heard a soft knock on the door. It was Emiko dressed up for work, kneeling in the hallway. “I’ll be going out now. It was nice to meet you,” she said to Imanishi.
“Well, thanks for coming by,” Imanishi said, sitting more formally. “Have a good evening at work.”
After seeing Emiko off at the door, his sister turned around to Imanishi and said, “It may be just because we think she is, but it really does seem like it, doesn’t it?”
TEN Emiko
In the back streets of Ginza was a coffee shop that stayed open until two a.m. After eleven-thirty at night, its customers were mainly hostesses from the nearby cabarets and bars who, after they finished work, would stop by for coffee and pastries before making their way home, relaxing after a tiring night. Some people waited in this coffee shop until after midnight, when the rush to hail taxis after the bars closed subsided. Others came here to meet hostesses with whom they had private arrangements.
Pushing the door open, Emiko entered; she was wearing a kimono. She looked around the shop until she spied Sekigawa, who was sitting in one of the last booths with his back to the entrance.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Slipping off her black lace shawl, Emiko smiled happily at him. “Did you wait long?”
Sekigawa glanced briefly at Emiko and looked away. In the dim light his face seemed morose.
“I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes.”
His coffee cup was nearly empty.
“I’m so sorry,” she said and bowed her head as if to a stranger. “I was impatient to get away, but there was a customer who just wouldn’t leave, so I couldn’t escape. I’m sorry.”
A waitress came to take her order.
“I’d like a lemon tea.”
When the waitress left, Emiko continued. “I hope I haven’t caused you any trouble asking you to come and meet me like this.”
“I’m busy, you know,” Sekigawa said gruffly. “I wish you wouldn’t do this sort of thing.”
“I’m sorry,” Emiko apologized again. “But I really need to talk to you.”
“What about?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Can’t you tell me now?”
“No. I’ll tell you later… Oh, yes, there’s something I’ve been meaning to mention to you. I met someone who said he saw you in Akita Prefecture. It must have been about a month ago…” This was a topic that she did not consider to be very important.
“In Akita?” Sekigawa suddenly raised his eyes. They showed more concern than Emiko had anticipated. “Who was that?”
“Remember, a while ago you went to Akit
a with Waga-san?”
“Oh, yes, we went to see the rocket research center.”
“Yes, that was the time. This person says he saw you at a train station there.”
“Is it someone I know?” Sekigawa asked.
“No, you don’t know him. It’s someone you have no connection with.”
“Why did this topic come up?”
“Apparently he read your piece in the newspaper. He saw your name and photo and said he remembered seeing you there.”
“Is he a customer at your bar?”
“No, that’s not it. He’s my landlady’s brother.”
“Why did such a person mention that to you?”
“We started out talking about ‘musique concrete.’ So I happened to say that I knew you, and we began talking.”
“You told him you knew me?”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I told him that you were just a customer who comes to the bar.”
“He doesn’t suspect anything between us?” Sekigawa said with a serious expression.
“No, no.” She smiled to placate him. “How could he know?”
“Don’t talk about me to anyone at all.” Sekigawa’s voice thickened with displeasure.
“Of course, I’m very careful about that.” She looked contrite. “But when your name comes up in conversation, I feel so happy. I’ll be more careful in the future.”
“And what does this landlady’s brother do for a living?”
“I asked her that,” Emiko answered, “but she didn’t give me a definite answer. He seemed to be a very nice, kind man.”
“And you have no idea what he does?” Sekigawa pressed.
“I found out. Not from the landlady, but I asked around at the apartment house. I was a bit surprised.”
“What was it?”
“He’s a detective at police headquarters. But he didn’t seem like that at all. He was very friendly and seemed to enjoy talking.”
Sekigawa didn’t respond to this. He took out a cigarette and lit it, silently thinking.
“Let’s go.” He grabbed the bill.
Looking at her unfinished tea, Emiko said, “Why don’t we stay here a little longer?”
“If you want to talk, I’ll listen somewhere else.”
“All right,” she said docilely.
“You go out first and hail a taxi.”
Nodding, Emiko quietly stood up from her seat and left the coffee shop.
Two minutes later Sekigawa stood up. He walked to the register with his head bent down so as not to be recognized by people sitting in the other booths.
When he got outside, Emiko was waiting with a cab. Sekigawa entered the taxi first. The two of them sat silently for a while, looking ahead. Emiko quietly stretched out her hand and grasped Sekigawa’s fingers, but he gave no response.
“Was it unwise of me to mention you? If that’s what’s made you angry, please forgive me,” Emiko apologized, looking at his darkened profile.
“You’re going to have to move from that apartment,” Sekigawa said eventually.
“What did you say?” Emiko asked, thinking she might have misunderstood his words.
Sekigawa repeated, “You’ll have to move from that apartment.”
“Why?” Emiko asked, her eyes wide. “I just moved in. I’ve only been there two months,” she said in a dejected voice. “Did I do something bad by chatting with the people there? Is that why I need to move away?”
Sekigawa did not give her an answer. Instead, he continued to smoke as if he were displeased.
After a while, he asked, “Has that detective been there often?”
“It seemed like it was the first time since I moved in.”
“When you had your conversation, was it you who started it?”
“No, it wasn’t. The landlady invited me in for a cup of tea. When I went to her apartment, her brother was visiting. We started talking while we were having tea.”
“So the detective had her call you over.”
Emiko had not expected these words. “I’m sure it was a coincidence. I don’t think you should be so suspicious.”
“It doesn’t matter which it was,” Sekigawa said. “At any rate, I want you to move out of that apartment. I’ll find some other place for you.”
Emiko knew what he was thinking. Sekigawa was always worried that his relationship with her would become known to others.
“If you don’t like my present apartment, I’ll move,” she said, giving in.
Sekigawa stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
He was in a bad mood and she wanted to coax him out of it. Emiko needed him to be in a good mood, especially tonight.
“The nights are already so chilly,” she said.
Sekigawa was still silent.
They could see the neon lights of Akasaka. On the right was a large new hotel.
“Oh, look.” Emiko had been looking out the window, and suddenly poked Sekigawa’s knee. “Isn’t that Waga-san?”
Next to the hotel was a nightclub with its entrance lit up. Luxury cars were parked in front of the club. Among the customers leaving the club was Waga Eiryo.
“Hmm,” Sekigawa said, looking out.
“He’s with a pretty woman. Is she his fiancée?”
“Yes. That’s Tadokoro Sachiko.”
Their attention was held by Waga and Sachiko who stood waiting for a car. Their taxi sped by the standing figures.
“They seem so happy,” Emiko said with a sigh. “They’re getting married soon, aren’t they? And before they do, they’re enjoying going out together,” Emiko said with envy.
“Who knows,” Sekigawa said.
“What do you mean? They seem so happy together.”
“Right now, yes. But no one knows what will happen tomorrow.”
“You shouldn’t say such things. He’s your friend; why can’t you be happy for him?”
“Of course, I’d like to be happy for him. It’s because I’m his friend that I don’t want to say the standard, trite things.”
“Did something happen?” Emiko looked at Sekigawa’s profile with a worried expression.
“No, nothing,” Sekigawa answered. “But Waga is quite ambitious, so who knows if he really loves her. His target may be her father, Tadokoro Shigeyoshi, and his own road to glory with that man’s backing. Do you think that will make her happy?”
“If there is love, then wouldn’t it be all right?”
“I wonder.” Sekigawa seemed not to like what he was hearing. “If that kind of love lasts, I suppose it could be called happiness.”
“But I’m envious. Even if you’re right, the two of them can go anywhere they like together. You and I are always meeting in secret.”
Without replying, Sekigawa watched the darkened scenery of the Aoyama district go by outside the window.
The other side of Roppongi intersection was dotted with restaurants specializing in Russian, Italian, Austrian, Hungarian, and other cuisines. As they were operated by foreigners, journalists had nicknamed the area “the international settlement.” Some of these restaurants stayed open until three o’clock in the morning.
Sekigawa ordered the taxi to stop in front of a restaurant with its light on. Up a red-carpeted set of stairs there was a spacious dining area.
“Welcome.” A waiter guided them to the back.
The dining area was divided into two rooms. Several young couples were seated in the rear section.
Sekigawa ordered a highball.
“What about you?”
“I’d like to have an orange juice,” Emiko answered.
The waiter departed.
“What is it that you want to talk to me about?” Sekigawa asked, his gaze fastened on Emiko.
The other couples were also talking in low voices. At this hour, there was no music and no sound from the street. The late night restaurant was enveloped in its own special atmosphere.
Pressed by Sekigawa, Emiko couldn’t at once come out with the nex
t words. She bowed her head and fidgeted.
“You called me during the day, so I thought it was something important and made a special effort to come out tonight. I wish you’d hurry up and tell me what it is.”
“I’m sorry.” It was about telephoning him that she apologized. Sekigawa often told her that he did not want her to call him. Even so, Emiko did not continue. The waiter served them; she sipped her juice through a straw, eagerly.
“Did you have too much to drink tonight?” Sekigawa asked, watching her face.
“No.” Emiko shook her head slightly.
“You seem to be awfully thirsty.”
“Yes.”
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
As Sekigawa drank his highball, the waiter brought over an appetizer. It was a plate of smoked salmon. Emiko stared at it.
Noticing her gaze, Sekigawa offered the dish to her. “Eat some if you like.”
“Thank you. I’ll just take this.” Emiko pierced the slice of lemon on the plate with a toothpick. Putting it into her mouth, she ate it as if it were delicious.
“Does such a sour thing taste good to you?” Sekigawa asked, watching her.
At this moment, Sekigawa’s expression changed. He had realized something. He glared at Emiko. Suddenly shifting his chair around, he moved close to sit next to her.
“You,” he said softly in her ear, “can’t possibly be…”
Emiko turned bright red. Her hand stopped moving. She sat perfectly still.
“So that’s it.” Sekigawa was still looking at her intently.
Without uttering a word, Emiko nodded.
Sekigawa said nothing further. Looking away from her, he tightened the grip on his glass.
“It’s really true? There’s no mistake?” he asked after some time.
“Yes,” Emiko said.
“How far along is it?”
The answer to this question also took a while. Calling up her courage, Emiko answered, “It’s almost four months.”
Sekigawa clenched the glass so tightly that it nearly broke. “You fool.” He spoke in a deliberately low voice. “Why didn’t you say anything about it before now?”
He focused on the hair of her downcast forehead.
“I was afraid that it would end up like the last time,” she said.
Inspector Imanishi Investigates Page 17
