Zen Attitude

by Sujata Massey

  I had looked for links between the Mihori and Ideta families, but I had never thought of the car salesman from Hita. I wanted to look into Jun’s eyes, to decide for myself whether he was really my enemy. In a weak voice, I asked him to take off my blindfold.

  “No. I would be ashamed to have you see me.”

  “Don’t be modest, Jun. You’re good at what you do,” I told him. “You killed Nao Sakai and brought his body to Tokyo and used me to fake the discovery of the body. When you tried to get me to meet you in Ueno the other day—it was to get the scroll and then kill me, wasn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Jun said. “You must understand that I had nothing against Nao Sakai. But he tried to get away, and my brother would have had my head if I let him.”

  “I didn’t know you were brothers,” I said, trying to hide the despair I felt at my friend’s utter transformation. “I thought Wajin was some relative of Nana Mihori’s.”

  “We were family until an agent for the Mihoris came looking for a boy of the right age to train for the temple.” Jun sounded bitter. “Kazuhito was twelve, working as an altar boy during the weekend at our village temple, and the priests all thought he showed signs of promise. He loved prayer, Buddhist calligraphy, and art, all the things you can take time to learn about when you are too weak to play school sports. He also has a certain look . . . his eyes and nose are similar to Akemi’s, did you ever notice? Hita is far away from Kamakura, so it was not likely that anyone could guess he was not truly a Mihori.”

  “Why would your parents ever agree to such a thing? To give up a child they loved . . .”

  “The Mihoris convinced them that Kazuhito would live the rest of his life as a well-respected and wealthy man. They paid my parents a lot of money, enough for my father to buy his own car dealership. And my mother even decided to live with the Mihoris so she could watch over Kazuhito. She’s the housekeeper. Everyone calls her Tanaka, which is her maiden name.”

  I thought about Miss Tanaka’s perpetual sour face. What would it have been like to give up your husband and younger child to live with people who had appropriated your elder son’s every success for themselves? Would it be enough to make you want to steal from them?

  “Who wanted the scroll?” I asked.

  “Kazuhito and Akemi were introduced to the temple’s art collection when they were teenagers. The Mitsuhiro scroll was the greatest treasure, and Kazuhito was told he would be responsible for sharing it with the public for one week every year. He admired the scroll, and Akemi acted very possessive toward it. Two years ago, my brother looked at the scroll and decided something was wrong. The paper did not have exactly the same flaws. He suspected the original had been taken by Akemi or her mother, because everyone knows that when he takes over, they will no longer have property or wealth—especially since Akemi’s judo career failed,” Jun added contemptuously. “My brother searched the Mihori house without luck, and then he began thinking that Akemi or her mother would have taken the scroll to a safe place. And what place is more secure than Nana’s family home in Denen-Chofu, which is already full of antiques? Even if the scroll was tucked away in a drawer, it would be assumed to be part of the family collection.”

  Listening to Jun’s story, I could see how Wajin cleverly anticipated people’s reactions and molded them for his purposes. I had once thought Wajin had supernatural qualities of touch and hearing. I was beginning to think now that his gift was being attuned to how people would react. The bruise under my eye had probably already faded by the time that Wajin had touched it and seemed to wipe it away, but I didn’t know that because there was no mirror in the teahouse.

  “My brother showed me a slide photograph of the scroll and instructed me to search for it. I was selling cars by then, so it was easy for me to make a house call. When I was invited inside the Ideta house, I saw the scroll hanging downstairs. Probably Nana had not told her sister how valuable it was.”

  “Ah! So you took it?”

  “Of course not—I would be the first suspect. Kazuhito thought we should wait a year before I returned, to ensure there would be no memory of the visiting car dealer.”

  “All this energy and secrecy just to return the scroll to Horin-ji? I can’t believe his dedication to the temple.”

  “He is not dedicated. What kind of a priest orders murder?” Jun sounded outraged. “He was planning to beat Akemi at her secret plan and sell the scroll to a private buyer. With that money, he could leave the temple and start a new life.”

  There was a noise outside the cave, the sound of a tree branch breaking. I thought of calling for help, but decided that if I was wrong about someone being outside, I would have blown my fragile connection with Jun. I remained quiet, and Jun kept talking.

  “Then we had a crisis. Nomu Ideta, the old man I mentioned, went downstairs for a family party, and he saw the scroll. He recognized the seals as Mitsuhiro’s and screamed at his sister Haru about leaving the treasure exposed to humid air. He put the scroll away for safekeeping and wouldn’t tell her where it was.” Jun sighed. “Then Haru began selling antiques to help with family finances.”

  “You thought you might lose the scroll,” I said. “So you recruited Nao Sakai to approach Haru about taking on the tansu.”

  “That’s right,” said Jun, sounding surprised.

  “All you had to do was wait for me to buy the chest, and then, when the chest was delivered, you would remove the scroll inside. But it didn’t work.”

  “No. The delivery guys we asked Sakai to use turned out to be fools. Instead of taking the tansu to Kamakura so we could search it, they brought it to the address on the delivery slip—your apartment. They telephoned my brother, who told them to search it as best they could, and get out of there fast. They couldn’t figure out the false bottom, and they banged up the metalwork and had to replace a nail.”

  “I was jabbed by that nail!” So I hadn’t made a bad examination and missed the nail. The tansu had been tampered with after I’d bought it.

  “Kazuhito knew that many tansu had secret places within, so he was convinced he could still find the scroll if he could get to the chest before Nana Mihori. But you were the problem, hanging on to the tansu and trying to find out where it came from.”

  “When I located Nomu Ideta, it scared your brother enough to kill him.”

  “We’re partners,” Jun said soberly. “Each of us has killed one person.”

  “But he initiated everything,” I said. “It’s time you stop obeying your brother and go to the police! I’ll help you!”

  Jun stood up quickly, and I felt our intimacy start to evaporate. “You try to squeeze out of everything. You stopped answering the telephone, you didn’t come to Ueno Park, and you escaped my arrows and you avoided the snake. But I’ve got you now. And if you don’t tell me where the scroll is, I’m supposed to do horrible things. Kazuhito left a punishment stick, and there are matches here, I could set you on fire if I wanted—”

  “How can you say that? We had some good times together,” I pleaded.

  “Yeah, you thought I was a fun guy. Great car, great clothes. Well, I don’t look very handsome today.”

  “The story doesn’t have to end this way, Jun. Untie me and take me down the mountain.”

  “I killed a person. If I don’t do what Kazuhito wants, he will tell the police. He is a priest, so they will believe everything he says. I’m just the young punk brother.”

  Just like Angus, who ran all the faster toward trouble because his older brother was a success. How stupid it had been for me to spend so much time angry. I had resented Angus for the most selfish of reasons: I couldn’t stand to see myself supplanted. And now I’d never see either Glendinning again.

  “You’re not a punk,” I told Jun. “You could be a hero.”

  “Do you realize you’re supposed to be telling me where the scroll is? My brother is going to be done with the foreigners’ orientation very shortly and he will return expecting the answer. If no
t, he’ll make me torture you in front of him.”

  His mention of Wajin’s departure sparked something in my memory. Wajin had to have taken Jun’s vehicle downhill, because when the ignition started, it didn’t have the ancient rattle of Mr. Ishida’s Town Ace van. That meant Mr. Ishida’s van might still be around.

  “I suppose Mr. Ishida’s body is already in the van,” I said.

  “Who?”

  “An old man who was my friend. Your brother kidnapped both of us from the temple and as soon as we got up to the cave, he killed Mr. Ishida.”

  Jun made a sound of disgust. “Where’s the body?”

  “I was blindfolded and stuck in here while it happened, but I know it was done outside. It would mean a great deal to me if you could tell me how he was killed. I feel terrible, having brought him here.”

  “The van’s probably starting to stink,” Jun said, the practical car salesman coming out of hiding. “I’d better check if a window’s open. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

  When I heard Jun’s footsteps fade, I started trying to work off the ropes around my wrists. There was no way for the ropes to pass over the widest part of my hands. I stopped fumbling when I heard Jun return.

  “He didn’t put him in there. Where else could the old man be?”

  Jun was asking me to help him do his dirty job. I was tempted to say something nasty about that, but I stopped myself. It would be to my advantage to send him on a wild-goose chase.

  “Hmmm,” I said, trying to sound thoughtful. “I did hear a strange noise before Waijin returned to me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Footsteps, and then something dragging. Yes, your brother must have moved Mr. Ishida’s body to one of the interior caves.”

  “Maybe he wanted to leave it there,” Jun said.

  “But there’s a tourist group coming up here this afternoon! Because of the festival, they’re reopening the caves. Didn’t you see the notice?”

  “Damn,” Jun said. “I wish I knew what to do. If I screw up . . .”

  “I’d help you look if you took off my blindfold,” I offered.

  “You stay here. I’ll check it out myself.” He moved off rapidly, and I was alone again. I started pulling at the ropes. My left hand was bleeding heavily now, the cut reopened by all the stress I’d put on it. I was almost grateful for the way the liquid was helping the rope slide more easily over my skin, until I realized what the bleeding signified: a deep cut. I was losing blood.

  Unfortunately, the rope was still too tight to pass over my hands. I struggled to stand up, my calves and feet numb from the kneeling position Wajin had forced me to take. I stretched my bound arms back and hit the cave wall. I moved my hands across it and eventually found a small but sharp rocky outcropping. I hooked my roped wrists over it and pulled.

  I had hoped to loosen my bonds, but instead they tightened into a noose. I was hung up on the wall, just as the sounds of Jun’s footsteps in the chamber on the other side of the wall seemed to be getting louder.

  How I longed for Hugh’s Swiss Army Knife key chain, or simply Hugh. A tear rolled down my face underneath the suffocating mask. I couldn’t end this way. If the rope had lodged around the rock, it could be dislodged. Trying to think rationally, I sidled closer to the wall so the tension around my wrists let up slightly. Through five minutes of careful shifting, I managed to loosen the rope enough so I could unhitch myself from the rock.

  I sank down to the cave floor, pressing my abused, bleeding hands against the ground. Feeling some loose pieces of straw, I realized the rope had started to fray.

  I had been looking at the problem from the wrong angle. Instead of trying to slip out of the tightly tied rope, I needed to wear it down. I moved around the cave, feeling the wall with my fingers until I came to a small hollow place with rough edges, probably a tiny altar.

  I began rubbing the thinnest section of my rope bindings against its craggy edge, over and over again. I knew the rope was wearing down when I got close enough to scrape my skin.

  “Where are you?” Jun called. Was he back in the cave? No, I decided. He had a flashlight and I would have noticed its brightness through my blindfold. Jun was calling to me from another place because he wanted to hear the sound of my voice. He was lost. Akemi had warned me that the caves had confusing tunnels. I’d counted on that when I’d told him to look for Mr. Ishida’s body.

  I stayed silent and rubbed the rope against the sharp edge of the altar. After a few more minutes, my hand bled from what felt like five dozen new cuts. I held in the pain and finally, when I could feel blood running down the length of my forearms, the last few fibers broke. I wiggled my fingers, letting the circulation return. They tingled and throbbed deliciously with life as I tore off the mask and the black cloth covering my head.

  Chapter 26

  I opened my eyes into velvety blackness. Wajin had been smart to stick me in a cave, knowing that even if I got the blindfold off, I’d still be unable to see. I began walking along the length of the wall, counting my steps so I wouldn’t lose my orientation. I felt along the wall until my hand slipped into a second roughly hewn altar. This one had a tiny stub of a wax candle and, next to it, a small wooden box. I slid the box open and touched five small wooden sticks. Matches. Either they had been left over from holy rites or they had been placed there by Wajin to use for my torture.

  I dragged the first match along the box’s rough side and got a whiff of smoke. I tried again, and the match broke. This process repeated with the second and third match. The fourth one lit. I transferred its flame to the candle stub and my prison was illuminated.

  I was standing in a cavern only about six feet high. There was a three-foot opening on one side that I presumed led to the tunnel where Jun had gone. The far end of the cavern had an arched exit about four feet high. This was probably the way Kazuhito had brought me in, when I’d had to stoop to keep from hitting my head.

  “Rei? Answer me!” Jun called, more angrily this time.

  I took the candle with me and moved through the archway. There was a fork; I could go one of two ways. I didn’t recall which way I’d turned coming in. I raised the tiny inch of candle I had left, trying to see into each passage. Suddenly inspired, I lowered the candle. In the cave’s soft earth floor I saw footprints. Hoping that I was following the path of Wajin’s exit, I stepped carefully in the marks.

  I walked another minute before I saw light. I couldn’t contain myself. I burst into a gallop toward the brilliant midday sun. Heat had never felt so good. Outside the caves were green leaves and grass and the edge of a steep hill. I could look down into the valley and see the tiled roofs of the temple buildings spread out like a toy village. Winding my way down would take time. I scraped blood off the face of my watch and saw it was almost 2 P.M. Wajin would be through with the foreigners’ orientation, ready to carry out the next part of his plan.

  I checked Mr. Ishida’s van for keys; finding none, I began running down the mountain. As I moved through the trees I tripped over a carved bamboo walking staff. Mr. Ishida’s staff. Wajin must have dropped it after he killed Mr. Ishida. I picked up the staff and decided to take it with me as a memory of my friend—and as a possible weapon should I encounter Wajin.

  I had almost reached the temple grounds when I heard the crunching sound of feet on leaves. Unfortunately, the bamboo trees were too skinny to hide behind. I threw myself to the ground.

  Two elementary-school-age boys in school uniforms appeared. I rose, preparing to ask them to call for help, but upon seeing me, both boys jumped back.

  “It’s an evil spirit!” the smaller one cried.

  The sight of me rising up in a bloodstained Zen robe probably made them think I was a figure from a ghost story. I opened my mouth, meaning to reassure them, but my voice croaked oddly. I cleared my throat and tried speaking again, but the boys fled.

  I abandoned the robe under a bush and continued toward the temple grounds. The black Toyota Mega Crui
ser was outside the Mihori residence. Now I understood it was the vehicle Wajin drove down the mountain.

  I crawled through the Mihoris’ garden, each imprint of my left hand leaving a rusty stain. I paused when I spotted a laundry basket filled with wet clothing.

  Miss Tanaka was pinning up a pair of Akemi’s drawstring pants on the metal laundry frame. Her face, turned toward the matters at hand, reflected the same concentration Akemi bore during judo practice. Should she clip the waist of the heavy cotton pants with two laundry clips or three? I watched her delay the decision, thinking what odd behavior it was for someone who hung out Akemi’s laundry every day.

  She knew about the scroll but, unlike her sons, hadn’t tried to take my life. Not yet. I crawled faster across the grass.

  I was almost to the garden gate when Miss Tanaka finished pinning up the pants and bent down to take out another piece of clothing. As she looked downward our eyes met. She cried out.

  “Daijobu, daijobu” I mouthed at her, slowly getting to my feet, telling her that it was okay. The window screen shifted open. As she turned to look, I sprinted for the garden gate.

  “It’s that Shimura! She’s still around!” Miss Tanaka said.

  “We must notify the guards at the gate,” her son Wajin said in his powerful priest’s voice. “She must be apprehended.”

  “She’s a nuisance, but I hardly think that’s necessary,” Miss Tanaka grumbled.

  “She has stolen property. An Important Cultural Property that belongs to the temple!”

  I dashed away from the residence and through the temple grounds. The loyal retainers who worked at the temple entrance as guards would obey Wajin without question. They would return me to him, and I’d never see any police. My only hope of reaching help would be by dialing 110, but the public telephone was located in an open area near the main entrance and its guards.

  I stared ahead at the milling tourists, imagining how they’d react when they saw the blood on me. They might panic, so I had to keep my distance.