PATROLMAN TAKAHASHI listened to the river as he walked along the flood control wall. The movement of the water lapping against the concrete offered at least an illusion of coolness. In no hurry to get home, he walked very slowly.
He’d finished his shift at midnight and clocked out of the station. He usually took the last train three miles north to Minami-Senju and walked five minutes to his place. But tonight, like every night this week, he walked. It took well over an hour but he didn’t mind; he really didn’t want to go home at all.
He reached a very large cardboard box and paused for a moment. A loud snore escaped through a small door cut in the side. Behind the box, shirt and trousers were drying on hangers on the river wall. A week before, Takahashi had seen an old man washing clothes in the river. He’d reminded him of a native in some far away, foreign village.
He kept walking, passing many more boxes. Just like a village, he thought. The well-off villagers had the best places and their box homes were covered with plastic sheets to keep out the rain. The poor villagers had smaller boxes and less protection against the elements.
But all were the neatest of villagers. No old tires or bicycle frames littered their yards; no chickens or goats foraged for food on their doorsteps. He’d seen a dog or two, once or twice. Maybe they would get the chickens and goats later when the village got bigger. He wondered if there was a law against the river people keeping chickens and shrugged. Cleaning the station toilets and helping Nakazono was his job, others could worry about the chickens. All he knew was the police had been ordered to pretend they couldn’t see the boxes or the bums.
Near Sakurabashi bridge, small tugs worked under spotlights, pushing fireworks barges into position along the banks of the Sumidagawa. Takahashi grinned at the sight and stopped to watch and rest. The night was still very warm and he took a handkerchief out of his uniform cap and wiped his bald head.
Two fire department launches raced past the tugs, their wakes rocking the ungainly work boats and barges. One of the tugs whistled angrily at the intruders. A firefighter on the bow of the lead launch fired his water cannon in the direction of the tug and laughed.
Takahashi laughed, too, and waved his cap at the fireboats as they disappeared around a bend. On loan from the Nihombashi fire department, the boats would be stationed beneath Azumabashi bridge in Asakusa for tomorrow night’s fireworks festival.
He replaced his cap and left the river wall, heading north up Edodori toward his home. The streets became darker as he traveled farther and farther from Asakusa. He liked it that way. There was less to see in the dark, less to be afraid of. Not that there was anything real that scared him, he just felt safer in the dark.
He knew he was a dumb person. Gosh, he’d been told often enough. Still, he wondered if other people were afraid the same way he was. Afraid of everything, but nothing he could ever touch. Maybe smarter people knew what scared them, he never did. If they knew, they could run away. But what if they were like him and didn’t know? What did they do to make themselves feel better?
“Bad things, I bet,” he whispered, as he neared his home. Takahashi wasn’t used to thinking, Nakazono always did it for him. The idea was so startling he froze in the middle of the street. “They do bad things ‘cause they’re scared.”
Stuck in the center of the road, Takahashi didn’t see the car. The driver stopped right behind him and leaned on the horn. The patrolman jumped out of the way and pointed his finger at the driver. “You’re scared!” he shouted. “You’re scared just like me!” The woman drove away with a look, perhaps, of fear on her face.
His home was one of six shed-like structures. Small, single-story and wooden, they clustered on a dirt lot. When Takahashi placed his hand on his front door, he could reach out and touch the opposite shed. Laundry hung on lines stretched between roofs, broken toys and candy wrappers littered failed plots of carrots and onions.
Takahashi whistled softly as he took a key out of his pocket. His hands shook as he turned it in the lock. He’d tried so hard not to think about it, but it was true. He finally had something real to be afraid of.
May had slept with Helen for a week after her release from the hospital. On the eighth day she stood in the center of the living room and announced she would sleep in her own bed that night.
Sam turned down the sound on the TV and Helen set down her book. “Good,” he said, “but are you sure you’re ready? There’s no hurry, you know.”
May picked at a cast on her left arm and smiled. “I’m ready now. I’m not a baby you know.”
“OK, OK, don’t get excited. I was just asking.”
Helen smiled. “I think this is May’s way of announcing she’s fully recovered. Isn’t that right, May?”
May hesitated and then waved the cast, making sure it was seen and not forgotten. “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way exactly.” She was still enjoying her convalescence and all the attention it entailed but it was placing a burden on her social life. “But I’m, uhh, almost fully recovered.”
Helen and Sam smiled at each other, nodded agreeably at May, and returned to book and TV.
“Hey,” May exclaimed. “Is that all you’re going to say?” She stepped to the side to ensure that Sam couldn’t see the TV at all.
“What am I supposed to say?” he asked.
“You’re supposed to say that since she’s now feeling OK, she can watch the fireworks tomorrow night,” Helen said, without looking up from her book.
“I thought we were all going together?” Sam appeared puzzled. “What’s the problem?”
“I want to go with Kiyomi.”
“Fine, she can go with us.”
May hadn’t been out of Sam’s or Helen’s sight since coming home. She was starting to feel trapped. She couldn’t have any serious fun with them watching her every second of every day.
“We want to go by ourselves.”
“Why?” Sam didn’t want her going anywhere by herself, ever again. He knew he wasn’t being realistic but logic didn’t help. He tried to smile. “What’s wrong? Are we boring?”
May shook her head but didn’t answer.
He turned to Helen. “Don’t you think it’s a little early for her to be going out alone?”
“No, I don’t,” Helen gasped, as May jumped into her lap. “I think she’ll be fine.” She laughed as May tickled her stomach.
May nodded. “Yeah, and we’re only going to be a couple of blocks away and—”
“Get off me.” Helen shoved and May fell on the carpet. “Like you said, you’re not a baby anymore. You’re way too heavy.”
“Awww...”
Sam knew this was an argument he couldn't and probably shouldn’t win. “All right,” he agreed. “But don’t talk to anybody weird and don’t leave the neighborhood without calling.”
Helen leaped off the couch and pinned May to the floor. They laughed and tickled and hugged and shouted. Sam watched the two women for a moment, shrugged, and went back to watching the ball game. He felt slightly old, a bit stodgy, and quite protective. It wasn’t a bad feeling at all.
Takahashi held his breath as he took off his shoes and tiptoed down the hall. All was quiet, it looked like Nakazono had gone to bed. He winced as he stepped into the living room. The lieutenant was sitting in the dark on the tatami staring right at him.
“Why tomorrow?” Nakazono asked.
Takahashi eased himself past his boss, slid open the shoji leading to the bedroom and gently closed it behind him. His hands were still shaking as he pulled off his trousers and shirt.
Nakazono’s voice penetrated the shoji. “You’re right, the temple’s probably the best.”
Forgetting to remove his cap, Takahashi dragged a sheet up to his chin and covered his head with a pillow. An hour later he was still awake. It was too hot to sleep. On a desk, on the other side of the room, was an electric fan. He sobbed with frustration, imagining the coolness and the nice white noise it would make.
“Do I kill her before or after,” Nakazono asked, his voice thick with anticipation.
Takahashi rolled over, entangled in the sheet. It was wet with sweat. He whimpered and bit his lip, afraid the slightest sound would disturb Nakazono and the other one. He pulled his knees up to his chin and decided to run away the next day.
“How about some coffee?”
Takahashi blinked and opened his eyes. It was late, almost noon, judging from the light slanting in the window. The lieutenant was squatting at the edge of his futon holding out a cup. Takahashi took the coffee and whispered thank you.
“What’s the matter, Takahashi-kun?” Nakazono asked, smiling broadly. “You don’t like my coffee?”
“No, no, it’s great.” He floundered about for something to say. “Uhh, you feeling good this morning, huh, boss?”
Nakazono stood up and stretched. He walked to the window, letting the sun warm his face. “I feel great,” he shouted. He was wearing a summer yukata of blue and white. Takahashi had bought it for him when he’d fled his apartment weeks before. It had hung loosely on his beaten, frightened frame. Now it stretched tight across his broad back and tighter still across his expanding belly. Takahashi wasn’t really surprised—he’d done nothing but eat, exercise and fuck dial-a-hookers during his confinement—but still the transformation was nothing short of miraculous.
Takahashi remembered he was supposed to run away today. It wouldn’t be hard, the boss sent him on errands almost constantly. Whatever he wanted, it was his job to run and fetch. He followed the boss into the living room. Nakazono flicked on the TV and flopped down on the tatami. He zapped the set a couple of times, pausing when he found the afternoon cartoons. “How about this?”
Takahashi nodded, confused but happy. He couldn’t decide what to do. Sometimes the boss terrified him, sometimes he was like his old self again. If he ran away, where would he go? And who would take care of him? Maybe the other one, the one the boss talked to in the middle of the night, was finally gone.
Ten minutes later, the middle-aged patrolman was sitting three feet from the TV screen laughing happily. He munched on an onigiri as schoolgirl hero Sailor Moon flushed prettily. Her precipitous cartoon breasts heaved against the thin fabric of her jumper and Takahashi sighed. His plan to run away was completely forgotten.
After the cartoons and a couple of daytime dramas, Takahashi went to buy dinner. At a Seven-Eleven around the corner, he grabbed a dozen beers and after some indecision, two tonkatsu and spaghetti bentos.
Nakazono burped and tossed the last beer can at the garbage pail. It missed and bounced across the linoleum. “Good job, patrolman,” he said, snapping off a mock salute, as Takahashi retrieved the can and placed it in the garbage. “I’ve always liked Seven-Eleven for dinner.”
Sarcasm was wasted on Takahashi. He nearly glowed with pleasure. “Thanks, boss. We can have it again tomorrow night, if you want.”
Nakazono grunted. “Yeah, sure, whatever. But I got another job for you before that.”
“What?”
“You’re gonna make a phone call for me.”
“You want me to call another one of them broads for ya, boss?” Takahashi giggled. “You want some more pussy?”
Nakazono grabbed Takahashi and slammed him into wall. “This ain’t no joke, you fucking moron. Now, listen and listen good. You’re gonna say exactly what I tell you and if you fuck up I’ll kill you before you hang up the phone.”
The sun was nearly down before Takahashi was calm enough to make the call. Nakazono dialed the number and handed him the receiver. His hands were slippery and he dropped it in his lap. “It’s OK, it’s OK,” he mumbled, and put it to his ear before Nakazono could smack him in the face.
“Hello?”
“Uhh, is this Miss Lang?”
“Yes, who’s this?”
“You don’t know me,” he stuttered, “but I’m with the Asakusa police department. My name is, uhh, Akamoto.”
“I see. What do you want?”
Takahashi lifted a piece of paper from the table and carefully read the first sentence. “I have some information about the murder of Elena Takagi. Are you interested?”
“Why are you calling me? What about her son?”
He ignored her question and moved down the paper to the second sentence. “This is very dangerous for me.”
“OK. Where and when do you want to meet?”
“If they knew I was talking to, uhh...” Takahashi nearly panicked. He was still on No. 3 and she was way down the list. “Uhh, meet? Where?”
Nakazono reached over his shoulder and pointed at No. 7. “Meet me at Sensoji temple in one hour and come alone.”
“I can’t meet you tonight—”
He relaxed a little and read off No. 8. “It’s either tonight or forget it. It’s your choice.”
“All right, I’ll be there.”
Takahashi replaced the receiver and slumped in his chair. “She went for it, boss.”
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