A Dog in Water (24 page)

His reaction made me glad. “You never so much as knit your brow at keeping a murderer company,” I thanked him from the heart.

“Hey, I’m an adult. What might run counter to justice for a cop might not for the human being he is.”

I didn’t really get what he was saying, but I caught some of the nuance.

“So if your memories have come back, have you gone to see Mari?” he asked, his expression serious.

I huffed a bitter laugh. “No way. I know perfectly well that my family was justified in ditching me. I’m not qualified to see my daughter.”

Kijima’s face stiffened. “They didn’t ditch you. You ditched them.”

“What?”

“You haven’t been able to remember that part? Your missus, I mean Kayoko, talked to me a few times about it. She prevented Mari from ever seeing you, just as you had demanded. I’m sure you were concerned that it would hurt Mari, but for a while it really strained their relationship, Mari bawling to be allowed to see her dad and all.”

Fragments of visions floated up in my head and dissipated. I felt something heavy, like stones, piling in the pit of my stomach.

“You remember now?” Kijima asked.

I didn’t respond. The sudden onslaught of guilt robbed me of words.

“Mari’s not a seven-year-old girl anymore. You should be able to see her now.”

I just barely managed a nod. I picked up the bill, got to my feet and fled. The exchanges I had with my wife back then came flooding back. I had told her I didn’t want to see my daughter, didn’t even want to hear her voice. Just sensing my daughter’s presence would bring on flashbacks to that crime scene so I never wanted to see her again.

I’d been horrible to my wife, telling her she didn’t understand my pain. Then I left home. I ran away from my family. No matter how my wife broke the news to her, there was no doubt I’d wounded my daughter.

After that, thanks to the ministrations of my psychiatrist, I forgot everything. I easily convinced myself that my wife had run out of patience for a husband who’d thrown away a career as a public servant to start something as stupid as a private detective agency. I figured she wasn’t letting me see my daughter. I never even felt that as a hardship. Of course, I sent what little child support I could. When my wife remarried, however, she said she didn’t need it anymore. I was able to easily accept that. I wasn’t distressed over it at all. I finally realized that I hadn’t been feeling any love for my daughter. She wanted to see me, at some point, at least. I hadn’t been kept from seeing my daughter. She’d been kept from seeing me—thanks to my rejecting her.

Kijima had said I should be able to see her now. But I felt even less
qualified to see her than before.

My phone rang as soon as I left the café. The display showed a number I didn’t recognize.

“Hello?”

“Do you know who this is?” came a familiar voice.

“Hello, Mr. Kawakubo. Have you agreed to let me meet Mr. Toshikawa?” I asked.

Kawakubo laughed. “Look up to where you just were.”

I turned back to Renoir not understanding why I needed to. I looked up at the window next to where I’d been sitting. All of a sudden, red liquid spattered against the glass. It was right where Kijima was seated.

“Did you see it?” Kawakubo asked, sounding utterly amused.

I still wasn’t able to grasp the situation. The liquid that coated half the window certainly looked like blood.

Shot? Kijima? Why?

The door of Renoir burst open and a man wearing a baseball cap with the brim set low over his eyes dashed out and ran to the right. I hurried after him. The man raced into the Yodobashi Camera Multimedia East Building. I followed him, a couple dozen feet behind.

The store was filled with customers. I’d already lost sight of the man in the baseball cap. I couldn’t tell if he’d headed to the West Building or the South or up to the second floor. I gave up on the idea of pursuing him. To begin with, I wasn’t even sure if he was the one who’d done something to Kijima. I still had my cell phone clutched in my hand. I raised it back up to my ear.

“What have you done? He had nothing to do with you!”

“I love killing unrelated people,” Kawakubo said, mirth in his voice.

“He was a cop. You’ll pay for this!”

“And how do you expect to prove that it was me? I know neither the dead man’s face nor his name.”

I was at a loss for words. I felt that no matter what I said it would be meaningless.

“Listen up, Dick. Keep snooping about and more unrelated people will die.”

“Why don’t you just kill me?”

“To scare you, of course. Call this number when you feel ready to beg for your life.”

The line went dead. I didn’t doubt that Kijima had been killed. It was all my fault. But I didn’t go back to where his body lay. The police would be arriving by now. If I went back they would ask me about the incident and prevent me from moving freely for some time. I felt sorry for Kijima, but there was nothing I could do for him anymore. Instead I decided to pay the gun dealer a visit.

“Yang will be here soon, too,” the gun dealer said as soon as he saw my face. “Y’know, the guy you met here before? I called him just after you said you’d be coming here. He was pretty interested in you. Will that be a problem?”

“No, it’s fine,” I replied.

The elderly dealer smiled cheerfully, revealing his missing front tooth. “So, I hope you’re actually buying today?”

“I’m planning on it.”

He retrieved a box from under the kitchen sink and brought it over. “How ’bout this one? I picked it thinking you’d say anything would do. Just came in. Take a look.” The lid of the box was removed to reveal a .45 Government. “I think this’ll suit you. A Gov’s a man’s gun.”

I picked up the pistol. It was heavier than I’d expected, its weight giving a sense of trustworthiness. I looked at the engraved seal. It wasn’t a Colt but an M1911A1 manufactured by Springfield Armory. The Parkerized matte finish of the body and the black grip panel made the gun seem less refined.

“Hmm, will the spring be too tight with your left hand in that state?” the old man posited.

I tried it out. I pressed my bandaged left hand down on the slide as though to cover the ejector and with my thumb on the sight. Rather
than pull back on the slide, I thrust forward my right hand, which clutched the grip. I felt a small jolt of pain at the base of my thumb but was able to click back the slide without issue.

“No problem there. So?”

“I’ll take it,” I said.

The old man smiled happily again. “I’ll give you two magazines with seven rounds each. If you need more, I’ve got a case with twenty-five rounds …”

“No, that’s plenty.” I paid for the gun. I would get the bullets at the entrance on my way out.

Just then there was a sound at the door.

“Hey, been a while.” The new guest smiled when he saw me. He sat down at the dining table.

“Coffee will do, eh?” the old man said to Yang and headed into the kitchen.

I sat down on the sofa and lit a cigarette. Just like before, Yang was looking at me with those eyes that seemed to pierce through everything. And he said:

“I seem to have had the wrong idea.”

“About what?” I asked.

“You’re not the man I thought you were.”

“What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t say.”

Did he mean that with my memories restored, I wasn’t the same man?

“Oh, nice choice. The perfect gun for you,” Yang said as he looked at the Government on the table in front of me.

“It was my recommendation,” the elderly dealer boasted as he returned from the kitchen.

Yang gave a short laugh and turned back to me. “So, what did you end up doing?”

“I found your advice very helpful. A craft knife was indeed sufficient,” I answered.

“Is that so? Well, perhaps I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“No, I’m grateful. As a thank-you, such as it is, I can teach you something in turn.”

“Oh? And that is?”

“Kenzo Sasagawa is about to turn himself in to the police. For the incident at Yoyogi Precinct. I doubt he’d babble about the perp, but they’ll do everything in their power to get him to spit it out.”

“I see. Guess I’ll be taking an extended vacation overseas.” Yang smiled.

I stubbed out my cigarette and stood up. “Well, I’d better get going.”

“Hey, the coffee’s still brewing,” the old man said, peering out from the kitchen.

“Sorry, but I’m short on time.”

“Will I see you again?” Yang asked.

“Why would you?” I asked back.

A mysterious smile curled up Yang’s face. “My curiosity for you just gets deeper and deeper.”

“You and I seem to have some sort of karma. I’m sure we’ll meet as long as we live.”

“Then be sure not to die,” Yang said.

“I can’t make any promises,” I said.

By the time I found Kamata it was past 10:00 p.m. He was sitting in the back of a club in Roppongi. He wore a white eye-patch over his left eye and was whispering something to a young hostess whose hand he was holding. As I stood right in front of him he grinned up at me.

“Hey, Dick. So you’re still alive.” He seemed to be rather drunk. “Get away from me, asshole. I don’t wanna end up as collateral damage.”

I slammed the barrel of my pistol into his eye-patch. Kamata dropped to the floor without a sound. The hostess gave a small scream. The eye-patch rapidly turned red, and I thought:
He wouldn’t be retaining any sight in it this time
.

I half-dragged, half-marched Kamata to the metered parking garage next door and shoved him into the backseat of my car.

“P-Please, lemme go to the doctor!” Kamata’s drunkenness had vanished into thin air. His face twisted in pain as he clung to my arm.

“Whether or not you go to the doctor depends entirely on you,” I said, shaking him off. “Where is Kawakubo?”

“I-I dunno! I’m tellin’ the truth!”

“Then no doctor for you.” I raised the muzzle of the gun so it was in his field of vision.

“You gonna kill me?” Kamata’s good eye was blown wide as he stared into the deep hole of a .45 pistol.

“No, I won’t kill you. I’ll just repeat what I did, to your other eye,” I said very quietly.

Kamata shivered as though suddenly beset with a fever.

“Here?” I asked. We were in front of a high-rise apartment building in East Shinagawa along the Tennozu Canal.

“Yeah, the president owns the entire twenty-seventh floor. He rarely goes back to his place in Meguro. He likes to come here to be alone at night.” Kamata had settled somewhat, thanks to the hit of morphine I’d given him. I had used his necktie to strap his hands to the headrest of his seat.

“Bodyguards?”

“A young one who doubles as his driver. Has his own room on the same floor.”

I nodded and placed my foot on the gas, driving down the ramp that led to the apartment building’s subterranean garage. “Which car is Kawakubo’s?”

“On the right at the end.”

I inched the car down the passage. I didn’t think Kamata would lie this late in the game.

“Those two over there,” he said.

I stopped the car. A dark green Daimler and a silver Mercedes were parked there. I surveyed the area and parked in an open spot a little further away.

“Now then, I’d like to make sure you’re telling the truth,” I said, turning back to Kamata.

“Do what you want, just hurry up and get it over with,” Kamata replied with an annoyed look.

I pulled out my cell phone. Even underground, the display showed three bars. I called Kawakubo’s number. He answered right away.

“How now, Dick? Ready to beg for your life?”

“If I do, will you spare me?”

“Not an option. The world isn’t such a gentle place.” Kawakubo laughed cheerfully.

“I’m currently underneath the Kichijoji Park Residence.” That was where his daughter lived according to my research.

“What did you say?” Kawakubo asked sharply.

“I figured I’d try begging to your grandson for my life.”

“My grandson has nothing to do with this!” a ferocious voice reverberated in my ear.

“Didn’t you like dragging unrelated people into things?”

I hung up.

“What’re you gonna do?” Kamata asked. “You’ll see.”

I lit a cigarette and slowly smoked it. By the time it had nearly
burned down to the filter, the cell phone I had confiscated from Kamata rang. Kawakubo’s number lit up the display. I pressed the phone to Kamata’s ear and pressed the answer button. I leaned in close to listen.

“Go to Sanae’s apartment in Kichijoji right now!” I could hear Kawakubo yelling.

“Wh-What’s wrong?” Kamata asked.

“That detective is up to something. I’m sending Tsujii from here. You head over ASAP too.”

“Understood.”

End of call. I got out of the car and crouched down between the Daimler and the Mercedes. I drew my pistol and waited. After a while, I heard a steel door to the left open and shut. Footsteps moving at a half-run grew closer. I stood up. A large, bald man in a black suit and shirt saw me and froze. When I aimed my gun at him, he reflexively raised both hands.

“Open the trunk.”

He obediently followed my orders. I made him stand with both hands on the wall, relieved him of his keys and searched his body. He was unarmed. I took his cell phone and rifled through the contents of the trunk.

“Get in,” I said, indicating the trunk with my pistol.

Fear streaked across the man’s face, but he soon resigned himself and silently climbed into the trunk.

“If I come back in one piece I’ll let you out, so pray for that to happen.”

I closed the trunk, walked back to my own car and untied Kamata’s hands.

“Go get yourself to a doctor.”

“Really? Can I really go?” He didn’t seem to believe his ears.

I had already started walking. I was heading towards what I assumed was the service entrance that the bodyguard had used. One of his keys unlocked the door. There was a stairwell and an elevator hall inside. I got into the elevator and pressed the button for Floor 27.

As soon as I stepped across the threshold and locked the door, I heard someone yelling from one of the interior rooms.