Tokyo Zangyo

by Michael Pronko

  Hiroshi turned back to Natsuko. “Were you going with him?”

  “Overseas? No, no,” Natsuko replied, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. “Visiting would be enough. He’d be working constantly there, too. That’s all he ever cared about.”

  Hiroshi said, “He worked a lot?”

  Satoshi said, “He was a workaholic. And a perfectionist. If things weren’t going how he wanted, he made everyone follow his way. He wanted everything right, and he decided what was right.”

  “What kind of things?” Hiroshi asked.

  Satoshi nodded, thinking. “School, sports, part-time jobs. He didn’t want me joining a small company. All my life I followed his rules, met his expectations, his advice.”

  “And where are you working now?”

  “A start-up IT company. First real decision I made in my life.”

  “Was he upset or acting strangely lately?” Takamatsu asked.

  Natsuko smiled. “If he’d started acting normal, I would have been surprised.”

  “Would he have wanted to hurt himself? Commit suicide, I mean?” Hiroshi breathed through his mouth. Natsuko’s alcohol breath was strong.

  Natsuko shook her head, no. “He was too in love with himself to do that.”

  Satoshi said, “Since I was young, he told us how he was the hardest worker in Japan and why I should be like him. He was always sure of himself. He wasn’t suicidal.”

  Takamatsu leaned forward. “So, nothing different lately of any kind?”

  Natsuko looked at her empty cup. “He seemed busier, but he was always busy. Work consumed him. And now, I guess, it really has.” She chuckled bitterly. “When I married him, I didn’t know he’d only come home after midnight. At first, I’d get up to make dinner at one in the morning, turn on his bath. With the second son, I started leaving his dinner in the microwave. Some weeks, I’d hardly see him. He’d sleep a few hours, in the other room, change clothes and go back to work. I spent all day taking care of the boys. And now they’re gone. And now he’s gone.”

  Satoshi said, “I’ll get you another coffee, Mom.”

  “The lawyers are coming soon,” she said to her son, stabbing the cigarette out in her coffee cup.

  Lawyers already, Hiroshi wondered.

  Takamatsu breathed in. “Is there anything else you can tell us about him recently, anything related to work or finances or…”

  Natsuko shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about that since the call woke me up.”

  “Who called, if I might ask?” Hiroshi thought the detectives would be the first.

  “Someone from the company.”

  “Nakata from Human Resources?”

  “Maybe.” Natsuko nodded. “I just went back over everything, back to the first time we kissed, in a karaoke room. Recently, we lived separate lives, to be honest, so if there was something, I wouldn’t know. He rarely came home for dinner, and when he did, he was hollowed out.”

  Hiroshi nodded. “And just one more question…who handled the finances for the family?”

  She laughed bitterly and played with her coffee cup. “I did. I worked in accounting before I quit the company. Seems like a long time ago.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “That must be the lawyers.” Natsuko took her son’s hand and rested it on her shoulder.

  “Was there anyone who might have wanted to harm him?” Hiroshi asked, standing up.

  Takamatsu took his coat from the back of the chair.

  Satoshi shrugged and stood behind his mother. “He wasn’t a likable person.”

  Chapter 4

  It was less than an hour drive east to Kichijoji, where Sugamo pulled the car to a stop on a side street of one of the most lively and popular areas in western Tokyo, the streets filled every day with young and old shopping, living, and strolling. He peered at the GPS on the dash. “On the corner of the big street ahead.”

  Hiroshi said, “My GPS says it’s the next street.”

  Sugamo pressed buttons on the dashboard GPS navigation.

  Hiroshi put his cellphone away and started looking along the street. “There it is.”

  Hiroshi and Takamatsu got out of the car. After freezing on the roof and Takamatsu keeping the car window open to smoke, Hiroshi finally felt warmed by the late-morning sun. It had burned away the chill and quieted the wind.

  The shop was located just outside the buzzing commercial area by Kichijoji Station, where the big store streets narrowed into calmer neighborhoods of three-story homes and prim apartment buildings.

  Hiroshi said, “This used to be a funky, artsy area when I was at college. Now it’s pricy and popular.”

  Takamatsu hummed deeply. “She must have gotten a good settlement when she sued Senden.”

  “What amount would cover your daughter?” Hiroshi asked.

  Takamatsu, for once, didn’t answer. They both stood on the corner observing the shop from across the street.

  Buckets of fresh-cut flowers in easy-to-grab bunches lined the windows along the front and expensive flowers of bright yellow, orange with brown flecks, and rich blues and purples jostled in buckets on a metal rack. Chalkboard signs on either side of the open front door beckoned customers into the interior of fat-leafed house plants and refrigerated cases of even more expensive flowers. Elderly customers with rolling shopping baskets and housewives on battery-powered bikes stopped, while a young woman in a blue apron and blue cotton over-sleeves bustled around wrapping and tying everything with an easy smile.

  A springy middle-aged woman in the same blue apron, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, chatted with customers while they tucked their flowers into their shopping bags before biking or strolling away.

  Takamatsu looked at Hiroshi, nodding for him to take the lead on this one.

  Hiroshi crossed the street and walked over to speak to her. “Excuse me, but are you Toshiko Yamase, the mother of Mayu Yamase?”

  The woman brushed her hair back and straightened her apron. She glanced at the badge Hiroshi held up and her face froze. She was an attractive woman with quick, darting eyes, and a soft youthful face turned blank in defense.

  Hiroshi said, “Is there somewhere we could talk?”

  She looked at him steadily before turning to glare at Takamatsu standing across the street. “I thought I was done with detectives.”

  The young woman in the blue apron stopped beside her with a tall bucket of water, as if ready to throw it on Hiroshi if she needed to.

  “Suzuna, can you watch the store for a few minutes?” Toshiko said to her without taking her eyes off Hiroshi.

  “Yes, of course,” Suzuna said. She was in her twenties with dyed-blonde, braided hair wrapped in a thick swirl around her head. A row of piercings paraded along both ears and her round face was, like Toshiko’s, taut and blank.

  “We can ask the delivery guy to stop back this afternoon,” Toshiko said.

  “I’ll tell him to come back after five,” Suzuna responded.

  Without another word, Toshiko turned into the shop and walked through the densely packed shelves of houseplants, watering pots and gardening tools. The shop was so full Hiroshi had to turn sideways to follow her.

  The air inside smelled earthy and alive. Along one side, refrigerated cases held rows of long-stemmed flowers. On the other, a wide table held wrapping paper, ribbons and ties, and a cash register.

  At the back of the shop, Toshiko pivoted and headed up a steep wooden staircase to the second floor. Hiroshi stared at her tight jeans ascending, but had to look away to find handholds on the bannister.

  At the top of the stairs they entered a small room bright from a skylight. Bouquet baskets and gift boxes stood in neat stacks. In the center, a work table was littered with cut stems, twists of ribbon and cut-off plastic wrap.

  Toshiko sidled through the crowded space and pivoted to climb a metal staircase even steeper than the stairs. On a narrow landing at the top, she set herself and shouldered open the door. Fresh, cool air flowed in. Hiros
hi followed her onto the roof.

  Stacks of different-sized clay pots circled the skylight. Down the middle, two knee-high beds of well-turned dirt lay ready for spring herbs and flowers. Beside the beds, planks on beer crates displayed two long rows of bonsai trees of all shapes and sizes. A small pile of autumn leaves lay unswept in the corner.

  Toshiko sat in a chair at a metal table and folded her arms over her chest.

  Hiroshi pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “What happened to the other detective? The one with the mustache?” she asked, looking at the rows of bonsai.

  “You mean Saito?”

  She nodded.

  “He retired,” Hiroshi said.

  “He didn’t communicate well,” Toshiko said.

  “He was a relic,” Hiroshi admitted. “I’ll be more direct. Your daughter Mayu’s former boss, Onizuka, died this morning.”

  Toshiko fidgeted in her chair, her jaw tight. “He should have killed himself three years ago.”

  Hiroshi cleared his throat. “We need to ask you a few questions.”

  Toshiko folded her arms over her work apron. “Let me ask a couple first. How did he die?”

  “He fell.”

  “Where?”

  “Senden’s main office in Marunouchi.” Hiroshi didn’t want to let her take control, but maybe backing off would let her stumble over her own questions.

  Toshiko got up out of her chair and walked to the edge of the roof. She looked off in the distance at the rectangular flat rooftops and their tangles of old antennas, water tanks, and heating and air-conditioning units. A distant school building rose up with tall fencing around its roof.

  Hiroshi stayed seated, but edged forward on the chair.

  In a few minutes, Toshiko turned to him. “From the roof?”

  Hiroshi nodded tightly.

  She turned away again to look off at the hopscotch of rooftops. “Twenty stories. Same as Mayu. Only he wasn’t harassed and overworked until suicide seemed the only way out, was he?”

  Hiroshi waited for her to look back at him, but she didn’t. He got up and walked closer. “We need to find out as much as we can as quickly as we can.” Hiroshi could only see the side of her face, but tears had started running down her cheek.

  She wiped her eyes and nose on her sleeve. “I didn’t think I had any tears left.”

  “Yesterday, what time did the shop close?”

  “Not this again.” She dug in her pocket for tissues, but had to use her apron to wipe her face.

  “I’m sorry. We’re at the start of our investigation and have to know the basics.”

  Toshiko shook her head, resigned. “I worked until nine. It was Suzuna’s birthday, so we went out for dinner.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “An izakaya near here. The owner is one of our regular customers. He puts our flowers in his place.”

  “How long did you stay there?”

  “Until eleven-thirty or so. They gave us a lot of free drinks. One of the cooks is kind of sweet on Suzuna.”

  “And then you went home?”

  Toshiko nodded yes.

  “Where do you live? Nearby?”

  “In Mitaka, not far by bike.”

  “Apartment? House?”

  “Apartment. I bought it with the settlement from the lawsuit against Senden. They gave more in return for a non-public apology. My lawyer convinced me to take the money instead of the open apology. Paid for with silence and secrecy.”

  “And where does Suzuna live?”

  “She lives with me.”

  “What’s your relationship exactly?”

  “She was one of Mayu’s best friends. They went to high school and college together, studied abroad together. She’s like a second daughter to me.”

  “And where is Suzuna’s family?”

  Toshiko took a big breath. “They were visiting relatives in the northeast when the tsunami hit. There was no trace of them. One of her aunts came to live with her in Tokyo but they didn’t get along. Mayu and I took Suzuna in after that.”

  “She lived with you?”

  “Mayu and Suzuna were the same age, but Mayu was like her older sister, helping her with homework, deciding where they’d shop, saving money for Disneyland. Mayu had all three of us following her shopping lists, housework duties, exercise, bath and sleeping schedules. Mayu was a natural organizer. She kept organizing Suzuna even after they went to college.”

  “And your husband?”

  “Ex-husband,” Toshiko said. “I guess he’s still in the Philippines.”

  “He’s working there?”

  “He’s been there twenty years now. He came back for Mayu’s funeral three years ago.”

  Hiroshi waited for her to continue.

  “I didn’t even know he was coming, but he was her father. I couldn’t refuse.”

  “That was the last time you saw him?”

  “Riding away in a police car.”

  “He was arrested?”

  “Isn’t there a record of this somewhere?”

  “I’d like to hear it from you,” Hiroshi said, wishing he’d read the files before coming.

  Toshiko sighed. “Representatives from Senden came to the funeral. My husband went wild.”

  “He got angry?”

  “He punched them out at the funeral.”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “They weren’t hurt enough. The police took my husband and let the corporate guys go. I had to get him out of jail.”

  “And then?”

  “And then…he went back to the Philippines. There’s been a few text messages, but that’s it.” Toshiko twisted her hands in her apron so hard it loosened. She undid the tie, pulled it tight again and retied the knot in back, wiped her face with her sleeve.

  Hiroshi looked at the row of upturned dirt in the bed. “Was your husband violent before? When you were married?”

  “He drank a lot. I guess in the Philippines too. He had punch-ups when he drank, but never with us. It was just one of those relationships that worked about two weekends a year. That’s not enough.”

  “You were divorced formally?”

  “Yes, when Mayu started college.”

  “Could you give us his address?”

  “His company knows where he is. Isn’t that in the police records?”

  “And did Mayu have other friends?”

  Toshiko nodded, looking away. “She had a boyfriend at the time. An American. He followed her back here from America.”

  “Do you have his address?”

  “I don’t know where he lives. Mayu never told me. He stopped by after the funeral a few times, but it was too painful to see him.” Toshiko kneeled down to dig her hand into the flower bed and pull up two handfuls of dirt.

  “He’s still in Japan? Where does he work?”

  “He doesn’t, he’s a musician, plays saxophone. Steve Titus. He plays at jazz clubs all over. Mayu used to go every time she could get away from work.”

  “And he was here at the time of Mayu’s death?”

  “At the funeral, he joined the fight, helped my husband. I got him out of jail, too, and kept him from getting kicked out of the country. Mayu seemed to really love him, though he doesn’t speak much Japanese.” Toshiko frowned and let the dirt trickle from her hands back into the flower bed. “I guess that would have been better than what I had. I see that now. I should have seen it when she told me.”

  “Anyone else from Mayu’s circle of friends who—”

  “Suzuna would know.”

  Hiroshi got up and said, “Thank you for your time. I’m sorry to upset you, but I thought you should know about Onizuka.”

  Toshiko nodded quietly and stood up, brushing the dirt off her hands. She wiped her face again, turned toward her bonsai trees. “Everything I worked for in my life was to give Mayu a chance at success. The right schools, English lessons, violin and piano. I stayed married longer than I should have. She got her dream job, a creative
media company, the top in the country. She could use her English, work overseas…”

  Hiroshi looked at the row of bonsai trees, their branches tied by wire. Most were bare at the end of winter, except for the miniature firs and tightly trimmed pines. Here and there, a few orange-brown leaves hung onto the branches, left unclipped for the winter or too stubborn to fall.

  Toshiko said, “Onizuka was the one person on earth I wanted to see dead. But with him gone, I’m not sure who to hate from now on.”

  Chapter 5

  As Hiroshi crossed the street outside the flower shop to where Takamatsu had been waiting and smoking, he called Akiko, his assistant, who managed everything in his office with frightening efficiency. “I think I can just make it back for the meetings…”

  “They’ve all been canceled,” Akiko exclaimed.

  Hiroshi stopped in the middle of the crosswalk, pedestrians biking and walking around him, a car waiting patiently for him to move on.

  “The chief called and told me to clear your schedule for the next few days. That’s what I’ve been doing all morning,” Akiko said.

  “The chief told you to cancel my appointments?”

  “I thought it was you canceling,” Akiko said. “I should have double-checked with you. I can try to reschedule them…”

  “I wanted to get what we have on those cryptocurrency cases to Interpol, so we could get their assistance.”

  “I’ll get them set up again,” Akiko said.

  “Forget it.” Hiroshi hung up and finished crossing the street. As soon as he got across, he called Akiko back. “Sorry.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. I really didn’t know,” Akiko said.

  “I should have called.”

  Hiroshi knew there was nothing more to say on that. He couldn’t survive without her assistance, especially her research and good sense. This was the only time she’d done anything like that. Usually, she preceded him in preparation and organization. Hiroshi shrugged questioningly at Takamatsu. “Where’s Sugamo?”

  “I sent him home with the car,” Takamatsu said.

  “Why is everyone making decisions for me today? The chief canceled my appointments.”