A Quiet Place (9 page)

“Yamaga is a hot-spring resort in Kumamoto Prefecture. Since olden days they've had a custom of making lanterns out of paper and offering them at the local shrine. But these are not just any old lanterns – they're elaborate palaces and castles, sometimes theatre sets, all made completely out of paper. She wrote ‘golden', so that particular lantern must have been constructed from gold-leaf paper. I may have heard her mention it was a souvenir from a trip to Yamaga. I believe that's what she told the teacher when she submitted the poem.”

“I don't think Eiko ever visited the Kyushu area.”

“Then she must have seen it somewhere else. Perhaps she went to a department store when they had a special exhibit of products from Kyushu or something. She saw the gold-coloured lantern with the flower pattern and it gave her the idea of the blossoming light. This particular haiku is rather vivid and elegant. Also perfectly feminine. Eiko always had a very rich imagination. I admit I was a little envious.”

“Really?” From singing to painting, then on to haiku – she'd had a very creative side, after all.

“She was such a lovely person, taken from us too soon. I can't imagine how you must feel.” Ms Suzuki spoke as if she was amazed that Asai could manage alone with no one but the solitary elderly woman from the neighbourhood who came to help out in the daytime.

At the end of September there was a personnel reshuffle. A new division chief was brought in, and Asai became assistant division chief. A promotion for a non-career-track civil servant like him was awarded on merit. If he could just hang in there, the next step was division chief.

In the end, Asai never took his summer vacation days.

The new division chief invited Asai to his home in Harajuku for dinner. At the end of the evening, Asai set off for home in the car his boss had ordered for him, but on the way he suddenly changed his mind; Yoyogi wasn't far at all from Harajuku. It had been a while since he'd visited the hill where his wife had died, and it wouldn't take too long by car.

The driver turned around. They arrived at the top of the hill by a different route from the one Asai was used to. They passed by the Midori and came out by the entrance to the Tachibana. It was after 9 p.m. and the neon sign flickered in the night sky. It had been six months since he'd last seen this view.

“You want me to take this road downhill?” asked the driver, glancing back at him.

“Yes, please.”

Asai, watching the view ahead through the front windscreen, suddenly lost track of where he was. The road looked different from this angle. There was a tall building ahead to the left, with a neon sign on the roof:
HOTEL CHIYO
.

The red of the neon stood out, vivid against the dark background of private homes. It was brand new. Even from this viewpoint, the sign dominated the skyline. There had been nothing like it here before. Asai had lost his bearings.

As the car continued down the hill, he peered out of the left side window. The building was a brand-new, three-storey hotel, with a very wide facade; Takahashi Cosmetics had disappeared. But the taxi passed by too fast, and in a flash the view was gone.

“Just a minute!” Asai hurriedly got the driver to stop. “This is fine. I'll get out here. I just remembered something I need to do.”

The driver walked around and opened the car door.

“Should I wait for you?”

“No, no. It's fine. I'm going to be a while. Please go ahead and leave.”

Asai turned and started to walk back up the hill.

9

Asai stood opposite the new three-storey hotel, by the house with the bamboo trees and the concrete wall. When he'd first visited Takahashi Cosmetics with his sister-in-law, he'd noted that the house had belonged to someone named Kobayashi. Now, the carved stone nameplate was tinged faintly red by the neon across the road.

The hotel was built in the latest fashionable style. Part Southern European, part replica of ancient European architecture, it was elegant, but nothing could hide the fact that it was a couples' hotel.

And it had just sprung up out of nowhere. It had been only six months since Asai had last been in the area. Somewhere within that short time frame, Takahashi Cosmetics and the next-door house with the bamboo fence and the zelkova tree had been torn down, the ground reworked, and architects and construction companies had moved in to put up this new building. Asai hadn't witnessed any of that. Right now, all he could do was stand and stare in amazement.

The name Chiyo obviously came from Chiyoko Takahashi's given name. The little cosmetics boutique, now vanished off the face of the earth, must once have stood right at the far end of what were now the hotel's
white perimeter walls. Within those walls was a line of European-style cypresses, interspersed with what were probably intended to resemble European chestnut trees but were more likely Japanese horse chestnuts. They were planted close together to give some sort of wooded ambiance. And the tallest tree in the neighbourhood, the big old zelkova, was nowhere to be seen.

The low stone wall, the bamboo fence lined by azalea bushes: these were all gone and replaced with white concrete. There was a gently sloping terrace where a lawn had been planted, and a broad, sweeping driveway along which cars could enter the grounds. It looked like the entrance to a park.

What on earth had happened to the original house with its roofed gateway and stone steps? The two-storey house visible behind the trees and shrubs had been a typical old Japanese-style house. That property alone had had over a hundred yards of bamboo fence facing the street. When put together with the plot on which Takahashi Cosmetics had stood, it meant this hotel was built on a very generous portion of land indeed.

The original house had belonged to someone named Kubo, Asai recalled. When he'd visited with Miyako, he'd been paying attention to the surroundings, and had made a point of reading nameplates. Asai guessed that the Kubo family had bought up the neighbouring property in order to construct a hotel. But if that was the case, why the striking similarity of the hotel's name to Chiyoko Takahashi's? Perhaps the characters weren't supposed to read “Chiyo” at all, but “Sendai”, meaning “one thousand generations”, and it was just a coincidence. He couldn't imagine how the
unmarried female proprietor, who couldn't even afford to hire staff to run her tiny cosmetics boutique, would have had the means to buy up the neighbouring plot of land and build a fancy hotel.

Or maybe someone else had purchased both the Kubo house and Takahashi Cosmetics. After all, the couples' hotel business was extremely profitable. It was a quiet area, and an exclusive neighbourhood to boot. The clientele would enjoy the high-end feel of the place, and after dark there were few passers-by to observe the couples coming and going. The street was poorly lit, too; infinitely preferable to a bustling, brightly lit street in the city centre. It seemed that up at the top of the hill, the Tachibana and Midori were both doing brisk business. Anyone with enough capital would recognize this area as a good investment opportunity.

According to the president of Yagishita Ham, back when he had visited Asai at the ministry, a lot of these kinds of hotel were popping up in hot-spring resorts. The regular Japanese inns were suffering from a shortage of maids and other attendants, and customer service was falling short. Compared to the traditional Japanese inn experience, a visit to a couples' hotel required far fewer personnel, and the room turnover rate was much higher. The facilities themselves were generally all that were required to turn a profit. Of course, the top-end villas and inns remained as they were, but the less popular hotels were rushing to convert.

Yet Asai couldn't help feel that something was oddly amiss. He was standing at the exact point on the road that his wife had been walking before her death from a
sudden heart attack. If the maid at the Midori's account could be trusted, a brand-new couples' hotel had now suddenly appeared at the exact same location. It was a strange coincidence: the boutique where Eiko had taken her last breath had now become part of that same hotel.

After arriving at the ministry the next morning, Asai asked one of his junior colleagues to get him a copy of any documents relating to the ownership of the Hotel Chiyo from the Yoyogi local public office. When he opened the papers, his eyes widened; Chiyoko Takahashi was indeed listed as president. Well, he had half expected it, but it was still a surprise. How was that possible? Takahashi Cosmetics hadn't exactly been doing a roaring trade. He'd only been inside the boutique once, but after that, every time he'd passed by, the place had been empty. He'd never seen a single customer in there. There was no call for any extra staff – even the proprietor herself had nothing much to do.

When he'd visited to offer his thanks, Ms Takahashi had admitted she hadn't much business at the boutique. She dealt only in high-end cosmetic brands for her well-heeled clientele, but had confessed that she hadn't picked the right moment to invest. In other words, she had let it slip that her business was failing. She was an attractive woman, and Asai had been affected by her enough to feel sorry for the poor state of her business.

Yet it now turned out that this woman had had the funds to build a hotel. The money clearly hadn't come from the boutique.

Asai examined the list of executives on the document. Among them was someone called Konosuke Kubo. He was listed as a board member. Kubo? Oh yes, Kubo. That had been the name on the gate of the house next door.

You never knew when it came to money. People could appear to be operating in the depths of poverty, but have hidden assets elsewhere. Flourishing businesses might secretly be on the brink of bankruptcy. Sometimes a financial saviour might appear out of nowhere to save the day.

What about Chiyoko Takahashi? She appeared to be single, but she might well be looked after by a hidden patron, some kind of sugar daddy. Miyako had already pointed out that there was something a little flirtatious about her. And if a woman thought it too, then Asai guessed he was probably on the right track. He recalled that waft of perfume when she'd helped him on with his coat.

Her inventory was all expensive, brand-name goods, many of them imported. Even though the boutique was tiny, that would all have required a fair amount of capital. Yes, she must have had a patron to help finance the business. Even if she'd been single all her life, at some point she must have caught the eye of a man.

It was quite a change from cosmetics shop owner to director of a couples' hotel. But when he thought about it, he could understand why. She'd opened her highend boutique in that neighbourhood with the hope of catering to the local residents. Assuming that she had a nose for business and her environment, she would have quickly understood the appeal of those hotels up the hill. Somehow, she'd found a way to persuade her neighbour,
Mr Kubo, to part with his house. She must have paid through the nose for it, though.

The name Konosuke Kubo appeared on the list of company board members. If this was her next-door neighbour, then he must have played a part in the hotel's construction; for instance, by providing his own land for the location. It was fairly common practice.

However, if Mr Kubo had been so instrumental in the process, then why didn't he hold a higher position in the company? He wasn't listed as managing director. The post of executive director was taken by a Sachiko Takahashi, possibly Chiyoko's sister. Provision of the land for a project was a substantial investment. Surely he should be the one listed as president, or, at the very least, some kind of director? Why had he been relegated to the lowly role of board member?

Asai's train of thought was broken by the arrival of the department director. Three visitors were waiting for him. They presented Asai with their name cards, showing they all belonged to the Yamagata Prefectural Agricultural Cooperative. The director made the introductions.

“As part of the integrated agricultural initiative, this agricultural cooperative is planning to establish several new food-processing plants. Specifically, ham and sausage factories. Up until now they've been in the canned-fruit business, but they're planning to expand into the meat industry. Accordingly, they have come to ask for advice on both the technology and distribution of these products. Asai, I'd like you to give them a general overview.”

The leader of the cooperative dropped the name of a politician – “Mr So-and-So has been very encouraging”, or
something like that – but it was clear that he was letting the civil servants know that he had the power of an elected official behind him.

Asai, in his role as assistant division chief, began to talk them through it. Food processing was his field of expertise. He'd visited many, many factories and had become an authority on the subject. For the most part, his knowledge had been acquired through his work with Yagishita Ham.

Even as he was speaking, though, Asai's mind wandered back to the Hotel Chiyo.

How on earth could Konosuke Kubo be satisfied with his position as a regular board member? Perhaps he was simply the quiet, self-effacing type when it came to business matters. On the other hand, was he purposely trying to hide his connection but secretly had a great deal of power and influence? Either could be possible.

What was the relationship between Chiyoko Takahashi and Konosuke Kubo? Were they no more than neighbours? Or were they neighbours who saw an opportunity to make money and became business partners? Or was it something else?

Asai realized he'd come to the end of his spiel when the voice of one of his visitors broke into his thoughts.

“We'd like to observe a meat-processing plant – ham and sausages, if possible. Could you suggest somewhere we could go?”

Asai had been thinking about the new hotel the whole time he'd been speaking. In fact, he was so familiar with the ins and outs of administrative guidance that he could have made the whole speech in his sleep.

“I'd recommend the Yagishita Ham Corporation in Kobe. They're very experienced in the field and equipped with state-of-the-art machinery. They've recently opened their second branch, here in Higashi Murayama.”

Of course, he didn't mention his special relationship with Mr Yagishita.

“This is the current size of our pig-farming operations. How much would we need to expand?”

Asai listened to the details of their current operation and replied with the appropriate figure.

The director then decided to slip in a few words of flattery. “We are aware that most local farming communities are currently experiencing rather a negative response to the recent government policy regarding diversion of farmland, so I respect your forward-thinking approach.”

“Forward-thinking approach” was the kind of empty phrase beloved of politicians. The director loved to use it every time agricultural cooperative officials paid the ministry a visit.

Unimpressed by his boss's choice of words, Asai let his mind wander once again.

What if Konosuke Kubo was Chiyoko Takahashi's secret patron? They lived right next door to one another so it was definitely possible. If that was the case, then they must have built the hotel together, Kubo deliberately keeping a low profile as far as the paper trail was concerned. The man lived in that huge mansion. Asai had no idea what his line of work might be, but there was no doubt that he was wealthy.

But, then, what a brazen act for Ms Takahashi to have a boutique next to Mr Kubo's home. What man would be
so shameless as to set his mistress up in business right next door? Perhaps he'd got it all wrong after all…

He was suddenly jolted out of his reverie.

“Would it be at all possible in the near future for you to pay a visit to our neck of the woods?”

Asai realized the chairman of the cooperative was addressing him.

“Pardon?”

“We would very much like you to visit our prefecture, Mr Asai. We're all pretty much novices in the field, so we'd appreciate any kind of guidance you can offer us.”

The director turned to face Asai.

“I think you can probably make the time, can't you?”

It appeared the director was anxious to lend his support to the politician named by the men from Yamagata.

By the time Asai got back from his business trip, the background check he had ordered on Chiyoko Takahashi and Konosuke Kubo was finished and the report ready for him to pick up. A week before his departure, he had requested the help of a detective agency.

Out of a sense of self-preservation, Asai had decided not to reveal himself to be an assistant division chief at the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry. He had visited the detective agency under a false name, explained what he needed to be investigated, and paid the necessary deposit. He gave a made-up address and told them he didn't have a phone line. He arranged to call them to find out when the report was ready and go to pick it up in person, at which time he would pay the balance of the fee.

He called the agency the day of his return from Yamagata, and was told that the investigation was complete. He took a taxi over right away, kept his promise to pay the balance, and left with a large envelope. This way, he believed, no one would have an inkling who it was who had requested the investigation into Ms Takahashi and Mr Kubo.

The report read as follows:

Chiyoko Takahashi, 36 years old, married Fumitaro Ozawa, a trader from Yokohama, twelve years ago. They were divorced five years ago. The reason for the divorce was her husband's extramarital affair. She received a very generous amount of money as a settlement, but the exact amount cannot be verified. Mr Ozawa immediately remarried.