The Kizuna Coast: A Rei Shimura Mystery (Rei Shimura Mysteries Book 11) (30 page)

“We can’t fully understand what our possessions mean to others. I think about that often when I work with antiques.” I paused. “I’m grateful for the chance to see you again. I apologize to you and your husband for troubling you with the details of Mayumi’s death. That was too painful right after learning she was gone.”

She shook her head. “Please don’t be sorry. We were so rude because we were upset. But I think we can feel peace again, if not today, sometime soon. I’m sure that she meant to bring the lacquer home. It means she never stopped loving our family.”

She had given me the answer about what
not
to say. I wouldn’t explain that Mayumi preferred her new, adventurous life in Tokyo, and in fact had intended to sell the lacquer so she and her girlfriend could set themselves up. I wouldn’t say it, because I had no intention of giving these people sorrow that they didn’t need.

“Is your husband here as well? We would like to pay our respects,” Michael said.

“Yes, and he will want to thank you. I’ll fetch him from the studio. Just a minute, please.” And Mrs. Kimura hurried out the door, still holding the grasshopper in her hand.

Mr. Kimura arrived still wearing an apron over heavy canvas work pants. He nodded at Michael and me before going straight to the backpack. Each piece was pulled out, unwrapped, and studied.

At last, he spoke. “Thank you for bringing this. Everything is here. But I would like to say something else.”

“Of course, Kimura-san.” I was glad that at least he was speaking to us.

“You were correct that she did not die from drowning.”

“Oh,” I said, completely caught off guard. “Did you learn something new?”

“The death probably came because of a fall. She had bleeding inside her brain.”

“Sorry?” Michael said, who’d missed a few words. Quickly I translated for him.

“She had bleeding inside her head,” Mr. Kimura repeated. “This is what the policeman who called us said. The likely way to have such bleeding is if the head is impacted—like falling down.”

“Did you ask the police to investigate?” I asked.

Mrs. Kimura glanced at her husband, who nodded. Then she spoke. “As you know, the funeral happened three days ago. There was a delay for Mayumi’s cremation until yesterday because of so many people requesting such services.”

This was a grisly situation I didn’t want to ruminate much longer about. I was glad when she continued.

“During the time we were waiting, one of the doctors at the Sendai Community Hospital phoned the police. He said there was some irregularity in our daughter’s death report…. He was willing to make an x-ray. The crematorium staff brought her in the casket. We were too upset to attend, but later the police telephoned and explained the doctor’s findings. Apparently the added check showed that she had died by falling. They thought we’d appreciate knowing this.”

“I’m sure,” I agreed, knowing that Sendai Community Hospital was where Tom was moonlighting.

“I had a new wave of sadness knowing this,” Mrs. Kimura said. “For Mayumi to have survived and then hurt herself so badly that she died…”

“We only hope she wasn’t in great pain,” Mr. Kimura said.

I heard the industrial beep of Michael’s cell phone.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I’ve just got word about the boat-moving project. I had to text that I’d be at the right place soon for a meeting.”

“Our daughter really liked to text message,” Mr. Kimura said. “She found it more convenient than speaking aloud.”

“We will be in Japan a few more days,” I said. “I’ll help Mr. Ishida mail the rest of Mayumi’s possessions to you right here. We brought them out of the apartment where she stayed. But unfortunately, there’s no phone with it.”

“I wouldn’t expect that,” Mrs. Kimura said. “She surely brought her phone on this trip. But it’s a shame not to have it, isn’t it?”

“Do you know what I think is a shame?” Mr. Kimura said to his wife.

“No.” She looked anxiously at him.

“I wish we had saved the buttons from her coat.” Mr. Kimura shook his head. “I was too upset to think of asking for those when she was being prepared for the funeral. They could have become part of our heirloom collection.”

“But there are more buttons,” I reassured them. “I found a box of them in her closet. You will see them. They’re wonderful.”

“Oh, that is a great gift,” Mr. Kimura said. “We would not have known they still existed if you hadn’t gone to her place. We are so grateful. I’m sorry about the other day. I just didn’t understand that you cared.”

“Yes,” I said softly.

“I’m sorry, but we must go now.” Michael’s voice cut in gently. “It’s an issue with our transport. Again, we offer our sincere condolences about your daughter.”

“You know, the last year was quite hard for us. Everyone around us thought we had a bad daughter. It was easier to only speak to her about getting the lacquer back. But what we really needed to make things right was—just her.”

“Don’t leave yet,” Mrs. Kimura said, going back to the counter and reaching into a drawer. She came out with a ribbon-wrapped box. “This is for the little girls who found the lacquer collection. It’s a group of
kokeshi
dolls. Five of them. They are lacquered, not painted, which is a bit unusual.”

“Oh, I’m sure they would be delighted.” These sounded like extremely beautiful, high-end dolls that would impress the girls—and their parents.

Mrs. Kimura said, “I would like to give you a gift as well. Do you care for lacquer?”

“Of course, but I don’t deserve anything. I only wish I had come here many years ago when I lived in Japan and met you two with your daughter. Maybe at one of those craft shows—that’s my kind of thing.”

Mrs. Kimura glanced at me, as if assessing my sincerity again, and then reached into a drawer. She leafed through some envelopes and came up with two wallet-sized snapshots. She handed me the two pictures of a smiling Mayumi about fourteen years old. Her hair was braided and she wore a nautical-style black-and-white school uniform.
Before she met Akira,
I thought. When there was still peace at home.

“Are you sure you can spare these sweet pictures?” I asked.

“We have many copies of this school picture,” Mrs. Kimura said. “One is for yourself, and the other, for Ishida-san. I want you to know how she was when she was still a little girl.”

“She’s very lovely. I will treasure this picture, and so will Mr. Ishida.”

W
e didn’t say much on the way back. Mr. Kimura really didn’t strike me as the one who’d sent threats to my cell phone. And his wife had freely shared information about Mayumi’s head injury. It nagged at me, though. While a fall could cause internal bleeding, so could a heavy blow.

But Mayumi’s body had been cremated. There was no chance to take anyone’s questions further.

Michael asked the driver to take a different road as we approached Sugihama. “See those grounded boats up ahead?” he said to me. “Those are the ones finally getting moved.”

“Well, how’s that going to happen?”

“A combination of a crane and flatbed truck. The text I received said to look out for a special kind of tow truck with a flatbed attached. The driver will leave me to wait for it to arrive.”

“Hmm. I don’t like the idea of you hanging here all alone.”

“I have to sign for it,” Michael said with a shrug. “Don’t worry, nobody’s stalking me. I’d rather have you return to the shelter now so you can still visit the hospital with the Hanedas.”

“But Michael, you only had a couple of granola bars for breakfast, and it’s lunchtime. We should have taken the time to get food when we were in the village—”

“I’ve got plenty of MREs for you to choose from,” the driver said, turning around to wink at Michael.

“Fair enough,” I said as the jeep halted for Michael’s departure. “You take that little foil-wrapped mystery meal. I prefer miso stew.”

When the military driver dropped me at the shelter a half hour later, though, I found that lunch was over and done with. The minibus bound for the hospital in Sendai was already filling up. As was becoming my habit, I was the last person to scramble on.

“Sit with us!” Miki demanded, patting the bench next to her and her sister. It was a tight fit as I maneuvered myself into about fourteen inches of space, so I wound up with Chieko on my lap.

“Shimura-san, how lucky that you returned in time to ride with us. Where were you all day?” Mrs. Haneda inquired. She was in the seat behind us with the baby.

“Michael and I returned the lacquer Miki and her friends found. The owners were so grateful to the girls. They also gave them a special gift.” I presented the box and let Miki and Chieko open it together. The sisters squealed over the five brilliantly colored dolls and then became busy deciding who would get which one. I handed the smallest one to Mrs. Haneda to save for the baby to enjoy in a few years, and put the remaining two dolls away for Keiko and the other girl who’d been with her when the lacquerware was found.

“
Kokeshi
dolls are very special to this region. Do you know why?” Mrs. Haneda asked.

“They were originally created by carpenters in Tohoku and sold as souvenirs in hot spring towns, right?”

“That’s correct. But did you know about the special wood used for the doll’s head?”

“No. Isn’t it just pine?”

“Actually, it’s called
mizuki
: water wood. This is an excellent wood because it resists the flames. So while some people feel a
kokeshi
doll is a charm for having a healthy child, others think it’s a way to keep your home safe from fire.” She paused. “So, because of these fine gifts, after we move into our next home, we can feel very safe.”

Fire was the opposite of water. But there was no talisman that could possibly protect Sugihama from too much water hitting it again. I’d heard of a Japanse coastal town that had been lashed by tsunamis on four occasions spanning just one hundred years. I didn’t say anything about my thoughts, but I wasn’t sure it was worth settling so close to water again—for the Hanedas, and for everyone else.

The question of Tohoku’s future hung with me as we entered Sendai City. Here, it was too far from the ocean for the wave to have come, but the quake’s effects on buildings was much more dramatic than it had been in Tokyo. I’d heard about many days in Sendai without electricity and fresh water, and terrible damage to its buildings, so I was relieved that the tall, modern hospital building where we stopped looked relatively unscathed.

Every passenger had someone to visit in the hospital. However, the first stop for most was the restroom, with real toilets enclosed in stalls and fresh water running in sinks. At least, that’s what I expected was behind the closed door with a little lady icon. I figured I’d visit the honorable hand-washing place when the line wasn’t so long, and use the gap of time while the Hanedas awaited their turns to check in with Tom.

I’d texted Tom on the ride over but heard nothing. So I decided to politely raise the big-shot Tokyo E.R. doctor’s name with the information desk attendant.

“I’ll page him right now,” the receptionist said after I explained that I was his cousin. A few minutes later, Tom emerged hurriedly from the elevator, his white coat worn open over a sweater and jeans.

“Not the way doctors dress at St. Luke’s International Hospital, huh?” I teased with a grin. “But where are those great wading boots?”

“Hey, this is a nice surprise,” Tom smoothly ignored my ribbing. “I thought you were in Tokyo. Did you ever find Michael?”

“Yes, he’s come back to Tohoku with me but is doing his own thing right now.”

“And what is your thing, Rei? You’ve got the look I know. I’m about to get some questions, right?”

“First things first.” Quickly, I explained about finding the lacquer and returning it to Mayumi’s parents—who’d given me some startling information about their daughter’s head injury. “The parents also mentioned a doctor performed an autopsy of Mayumi.” I looked hard at Tom. “I can’t imagine how that happened.”

“I did an informal postmortem examination.” Tom was speaking English, something I guessed he was doing both for privacy and because my knowledge of Japanese medical terminology was limited. “Let’s sit down over there, and I’ll explain.”

As I perched beside him on a vinyl chair in a reception area, Tom’s voice remained low. “I made a call to the Sugihama police saying I’d heard about a suspicious death. I asked if I could run some x-rays on the body before cremation. A look at the bones was really all I could do because she was so decomposed.”

“I remember,” I said, swallowing hard. “It was really generous of you to do the examination. I don’t even know how you heard I was concerned about the circumstances of her death.”

“Michael had a little information you texted to him, but it was Michiko—I mean, Nurse Tanaka—who really explained what was gong on. I felt badly for the young lady. Some others were getting autopsies—so why not her?”

“Tell me everything about the x-rays. What the Kimuras know, they heard from the police, and who knows how the story might have been altered?”

“When I reviewed the film, there was clearly a crushed area in the front of the cranium. Bone shattered and pierced the brain. She would have lost consciousness quickly, but also slowly bled to death.”

“Do you think a fall crushed her skull?”

“This is the unclear part. Falls usually cause head injuries to the rear of the skull. Mayumi’s head injury was in front, close to the top of her forehead. The splintering was more consistent with contact from a hard object. If she fell, she would only have fallen forward and bumped against something high.”

“Mayumi had been found in the room’s center, not near a wall,” I said. Tom was silent, and during this time I thought about Asao and Daigo, the two gangsters that Glock and Eri had mentioned. If they’d confronted her at the auction house and grabbed her outside, they could have knocked her in the head and then left her body wherever they pleased.

Tom’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Now, the second part of my findings. The x-ray also showed a shoulder dislocation—the left shoulder, I believe. This trauma could have been caused by either a fall or a punch.”

“When we saw her in the butcher shop, she was curled in a fetal position. Why would anyone curl up after falling down?”

“Someone in pain might do that to try to comfort herself,” Tom said. “It seems to suggest being conscious for a while, rather than being knocked out cold.”

“How awful for her,” I said, imagining it.

“The police didn’t contact me about the report, which makes me think they’ve accepted the idea of a fall. They may have communicated this information to Mayumi’s parents. If you’d like, I can call them later, but unfortunately, I’ve got to return to work.”

Shoot. I’d have to delay telling him about the gangsters, a detail that would have raised his eyebrows, to say the least. “Tom, your decision to examine her was really important. I don’t know if anything will ever come of it, but thank you so much.”

“If I can help, I’ll do it. I learned that approach from a younger cousin.” Tom gave me a light pat between my shoulders.

I smiled halfheartedly. “I’m on my way to visit a male patient in his thirties called Haneda-san. He was crushed under a vending machine.”

“Haneda-san is recovering nicely. It seems that almost all the survivors who’ve made it to this hospital are extremely tough. I don’t know if it’s the Tohoku genes or just determination. A teenaged patient in the same room as Mr. Haneda has a similarly incredible survival story about a jungle gym—you should ask him.”

Tom gave me a swift goodbye hug just as Miki and her family emerged from the ladies’ room. Riding up in the hospital elevator, I realized the teenager Tom had spoken about was the same person Mrs. Haneda had mentioned.

The patients’ room was sunny, with its window shades pulled all the way up, a standard procedure in Japanese hospitals. I could barely recognize the good-looking man wearing fresh pajamas and sitting upright in bed as the filthy, gaunt wreck I’d met a little more than a week ago. The girls rushed to surround their father, leaning in to hug and kiss him until Mrs. Haneda lifted up the two older ones to cuddle on either side of his bed.

“You must be Shimura-san,” he said, bowing his head toward me. “I heard the lifesaver was coming. Thank you for what you did last week. So many times people walked by and never heard me call for help.”

Bowing back, I told him, “But Hachiko was the one who knew you were there. She smelled you and was absolutely set on getting you out.”

“This dog deserves a big bone. I’d like to give her one.”

“I wish I could have brought her with me,” I said. “Unfortunately, she’s gone to Tokyo and resumed her old life in Mr. Ishida’s shop.”

“A dog that goes shopping? That’s very funny,” Miki giggled, and her parents laughed along.

“I’m so delighted you’re doing this well,” I said to Mr. Haneda.

“I understand one of my doctors is your relative,” Mr. Haneda said. “He says I’ll be released soon, as long as there is good temporary housing for me to go straight into.”

“My husband can’t stay on a shelter floor,” Sadako said to me, “and it will be at least another week until trailers are delivered. And then, we have to find furnishings.”

“I hear the trailers will be in Sugihama, not too far from my office,” Mr. Haneda said.

“But your office is closed for a long time. That would make it easy to stay with your sister in Yokohama, who’s offered several times.”

Slowly, he shook his head. “But that’s inconvenient for her. She has her own children and husband. The place is not large. It’s better to stay in Sugihama.”

“Yes, Otoochan. Then Butter will come home,” Miki said.

“She was just so glad you were alive—and there are jobs there—good schools…”

As Mrs. Haneda began murmuring to her husband, I felt I was becoming an intruder on a very painful, personal scene.

While the parents remained locked in discussion, the daughters had moved on. Chieko and Miki were showing their
kokeshi
dolls to the patient in the other bed. As I walked closer, I saw he was covered in even more bandages than Mr. Haneda, plus casts on all limbs.

“This is our big-boy friend, Masa-kun!” Miki announced when she noticed I’d come over to them. “Please meet Rei-san. She came from Hawaii. She had a really nice dog for a while, but now she’s in Tokyo.”

“Are you the famous one who survived by holding onto the jungle gym?”

“Yes, that’s me.” A smile emerged between the bandages. “But I wasn’t on the jungle gym for long.”

“Really?” I asked, glad that he was interested in talking.

“The wave swung me all around so that I couldn’t hold on anymore. I caught hold of a building roof that was floating in the current. Ten hours later I was rescued.”

“What an incredible story. A lot of people are talking about it.”

He shook his head. “I learned a little too late that staying on the jungle gym wasn’t an intelligent idea. My friends didn’t make it. All of them drowned.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You know, I climbed that jungle gym because I wanted to make a movie on my cell phone. I really thought the town’s sea wall was going turn it back.”

“When I was watching television in Hawaii, I saw the wave come up over the sea wall,” I told him.

“Because we were high, I could see the water coming in. Right then I began thinking of trying to get to the evacuation staircase, but it seemed too late. A girl yelled at us to run with her into the old kindergarten; it’s the tallest building on the street. A couple of my friends followed her, but they ran out again and said the door to the upstairs was locked shut and the guy wouldn’t let them in. They climbed up the jungle gym to be with me. By that time, the water was coming into the street.”