The Kizuna Coast: A Rei Shimura Mystery (Rei Shimura Mysteries Book 11) (7 page)

I pondered taking Hachiko from the vet to stay in the shop alone. Perhaps Mr. Okada knew a neighborhood youngster who could feed and walk Hachiko twice daily.

But was that responsible? I considered the missing money, the empty box in the safe, all the scattered objects. I’d felt an odd atmosphere in the shop that had never been there before. If someone had already entered and stolen without hindrance, there was no reason to think he or she wouldn’t return to properly finish the job.

No,
I decided. Even though Hachiko was technically a guard dog, I didn’t want her there.

“T
his is your last day of comfort. Please enjoy it, because soon you will enter another life. Just twenty of you are here today, but ten more will be with us tonight on the bus.”

In a packed Shinjuku conference room, Mr. Yano chose to start volunteer orientation on a gloomy note.

“I wish I could describe the conditions of the lodging where we will stay, but we are the first group going into Tohoku, so I cannot.” Mr. Yano was a trim fellow about my age, who had a wispy beard that needed trimming—an atypical look for the Japanese. “Expect that sleeping, eating, and toileting to be very rough. There will also be no personal bathing, clothes washing, or wearing of contact lenses, because there is no place to wash hands with water.”

No hand washing in clean-freak Japan? This was unthinkable, but all around me, serious-looking volunteers—mostly people in their twenties through forties—were nodding as if it was no problem.

“Do not come if you think you might get cold or tired or overpowered by bad smells. It’s better to change your mind now than later,
neh
? Once you arrive, there will not be return bus transportation until Sunday.”

People were raising their hands left, right, and center, full of questions about the length of the bus ride, danger of exposure to radiation on the trip, and so on. There was one question in the back of my mind that had been bugging me since the night before. Could Hachiko come? I was beginning to think it was the best option.

Soberly, we filed out a few hours later. I hadn’t dared raise the question. Instead I read through Helping Hands’ suggested packing list and decided to focus on obtaining a few items Michael hadn’t thought of when he’d packed my duffel bag. A down jacket and a battery-powered phone charger were the only outstanding issues.

I rode the subway a few stops to Roppongi and went to Richard and Enrique’s place. I entered through the unlocked apartment door and found Richard huddled on the futon with a blanket wrapped around him. He was drinking wine and reading a Hawaiian travel magazine that I’d brought. Glancing at me, he said, “Your island looks better to me all the time.”

“Then come visit,” I said. “Although we get cyclones a lot, and sometimes earthquakes and tsunamis, too.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Let me get you a glass of wine. What’s the latest?”

“I’m definitely cleared for the trip to Tohoku,” I said, accepting a small tumbler of Chilean red. “But I’ve got a couple of last things I need to bring along. Do you have battery-powered phone charger?”

“Sorry, I’m an all-electric boy. Anyway, I hear you can’t find one of those chargers to save your life in this city. Everyone else wants one, too.”

“Okay. Then would you lend me your down jacket? I can’t stand the idea of buying a winter coat I really won’t wear again at Tokyo prices.”

Richard’s face paled. “My North Face coat?”

“I’ll be careful. Apparently the weather’s really cold there—too cold for my jacket—”

Richard sighed gustily but stalked over to the closet and handed me the red jacket swathed in the shelter of a garment bag. Obviously, this was a highly prized item.

I gushed out my thanks and swore to bring it back in good condition.

“Okay,” he muttered. “But what are you doing about the dog? Not that I’m offering to take her. She’d eat Mutsu within minutes.”

“Well—I hope to take Hachiko with me to Sugihama.”

“Is Helping Hands cool with that?”

“Actually, I’ve been afraid to ask, in case they say no.”

“You’re leaving tonight.” Richard said. “If they don’t let her on, you won’t get to go at all. Right?”

“Sometimes you’re just too logical,” I grumbled. “Yes, I know. But I can’t figure out the right move.”

“Make the dog seem like an asset, not a liability. You could tell them Hachiko’s a search-and-rescue dog or something.”

“But that’s not really true—”

“She’s going to help you search for Mr. Ishida, right?” Richard paused. “I suggest you say something, rather than nothing.”

Feeling Richard’s eyes on me, I took a swig from my glass, picked up my phone, and rang Yano-san’s cell number. I was less hopeful than my friend about how the conversation might go. If Mr. Yano didn’t think people should bring contact lenses, surely he’d take the same attitude toward pets.

Mr. Yano didn’t pick up; his voice mail recording was on. I was about to start my plea but suddenly realized leaving a message could give the volunteer organizer plenty of time to concoct a strong rejection. So I hung up.

“I only got his voice mail,” I told Richard.

Richard took a long sip of wine. “Getting back to the search-and-rescue idea. I think it could work. You could play some training games this afternoon, so at least the dog has the appearance of skill. You’ll need yummy treats, of course—”

“I can’t train a dog,” I interrupted. “I’ve never had one.”

“You said she has a beagle nose. Beagles are used all the time for searching suitcases in airports. People seeing those dogs expect them to be skilled.”

It was true that appearances were important. I considered how I’d judged Mayumi because of her hair. “To make Hachiko look like a search-and-rescue dog to Yano-san, she needs to wear a red coat.”

Richard had already picked up his cell phone. “I’m calling Isetan to see if they’re open for business today.”

Richard and I hadn’t shopped together in a long time. Normally, we made pilgrimages to both the men’s and women’s departments, but today we headed to the famed department store’s pet fashion boutique, which occupied almost half a floor. On a winter-clothing sale rack, I found a quilted red coat from Rich Dog World that looked big enough for Hachiko. The children’s floor yielded two small Tory Burch T-shirts with appliquéd white crosses that would be easy to remove. One hundred dollars poorer, we returned to Richard’s apartment, where I sewed the crosses onto the dog coat and Richard put Mutsu in the Meowtize cloak he’d impetuously bought for an upcoming party.

The fat cat did not look any better in black sequins, but I kept my opinion to myself and finished the last bits of packing. My duffel was quite heavy now. I decided to drop it off at Mr. Ishida’s store before going to the vet’s to retrieve Hachiko. With a kiss to Richard, I was off with my luggage by four o’clock.

As expected, I received a friendly reception at Animal House when I made it clear I was taking Hachiko away with me. Too quickly, her leash was in one of my hands and a red shopping bag with sedatives, lemon-scented poop bags, and dog biscuits was in the other. Dr. Kubo had also written a list of daily care instructions, which would have been helpful, except they were printed in tiny eight-point kanji.

Hachiko trotted out of Animal House alongside me. It seemed like her jaw stretched into a smile at the sight of the familiar Tokyo traffic. When we turned onto Mr. Ishida’s block, she surprised me by breaking into a run. She yanked me the rest of the way and barked joyfully while I opened the shop door. Once inside, she hurried everywhere looking for Mr. Ishida.

“I’m sorry, Hachiko,” I said. “But we’ll find him soon, I promise.”

Hachiko ran up the staircase in the back that led to Mr. Ishida’s private quarters. I followed her up and found this door was locked and required a different key than the shop’s entry. But I still had my lock-picking tools, so I was quickly inside. I’d needed to go into the apartment anyway to find clean, warm clothes to bring Mr. Ishida, who might have been wearing the same garments for a week.

In the flat, all was neat, with the twin bed made and clothes all hanging in closets. Books and newspapers were everywhere, but in orderly piles. A few drawers had been rocked open by the earthquake. I wouldn’t know if anything was missing, so I didn’t undertake any kind of search but gathered two pairs of trousers, two sweaters and shirts, an extra coat, gloves, and four sets of underwear and socks. Everything went into a leather suitcase that was large enough to hold Hachiko’s dog supplies as well.

I still had an hour to spare before leaving for the volunteer bus. Remembering what I’d said to Mr. Okada about cleaning up, I found the broom and dustpan and swept up all the china bits and put them in the empty lacquer box and returned everything to the safe. When that business was done, I called Michael. It was dinnertime in Tokyo, which meant it was late evening in Honolulu.

After I explained my plan to take Hachiko, Michael did all but cheer. “What awesome news. Is she on the manifest, or are you sneaking her along in your bag?”

“I wish I could, but she’s too big.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet her.”

“I can’t possibly bring her to Hawaii. You know the quarantine laws, and Mr. Ishida’s going to get her soon, I hope—”

“Which is fine. But I’m coming to Japan! My proposal for communication action during the continuing nuclear crisis got accepted. Two of the guys and I are flying out of Hickam Field as soon as space is available.”

The brief pleasure I’d felt at hearing he was coming was immediately supplanted by worry. “But what is this proposal exactly? What could you do?”

“We’ll fold ourselves into Operation Tomodachi, the US military effort to help relieve Japan. My role will be working with people in an attempt to improve communication.”

“It sounds very noble, but that kind of talking has been going on for a week without success,” I said. “And you represent a think tank. How can someone like you influence the Japanese government and TEPCO?”

“I’d like to think I can communicate with Japanese bureaucrats a touch better than the people sitting abroad yelling at them about the extent of the radiation spill.” Michael sounded aggrieved.

“Are you going to do this from Tokyo?” When he didn’t answer, I added, “Knowing you, it will be much closer to the danger zone. You shouldn’t do it.”

“So you’re worried about my health.” He snorted as if this were an irrelevant issue.

“Of course I’m worried! Think about what going to Fukushima might mean for the rest of your life. My life, too, since we’re married.”

“I hear you, but when I worry, it’s about the hundred people still crawling around that TEPCO plant trying to put out fires. They’re the ones who’re going to die, and if a solution isn’t found, thousands and possibly millions will also die. Really, I’ll be fine. If I go to Tohoku, I’ll probably be based on a ship near the plant.”

“Probably.” I sighed, letting out all the fear and frustration in my breath. “How soon do they think there’s going to be a flight with space?”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“So I’ll be in Tohoku. You might not be able to reach me when you land.”

“I’ll call this number.”

“Well, cell service is still pretty erratic, and I may have trouble keeping my phone charged while I’m out there. I tried to find a battery-operated charger, but the stores are sold out.”

“How can you go without a charger?” Without waiting for an answer, he huffed, “You can’t leave the city until you have the necessary charger. I’ve got one packed.”

“What do you mean, I can’t leave? The volunteer bus leaves in a few hours. But don’t worry, okay? I’ll be back in Tokyo soon.”

“Don’t worry,” Michael repeated sarcastically. “I can’t be concerned about you, after all you said about my plans?”

“It’s tough being apart. I wish I could make everything okay—”

“I’m not going to talk to you,” Michael snapped. “You need to conserve power.” And with that, he disappeared.

Great. I’d alienated him, just as I’d alienated every other man in my past. Now I was starting to think that maybe the problem wasn’t the guys—but the way I communicated with them. Michael and I been married for less than a year. Fights like this—about travel and work and safety—were extremely painful for both of us. Maybe too painful for the marriage to hold.

I shook myself. I needed to take my mind off of Michael and back to getting Hachiko on the volunteer bus.

Dogs supposedly weren’t allowed in the subway system, but since it was after rush-hour, fewer guards were on duty. It was the first–and only–opportunity to test out whether Hachiko, in her new red coat, could pass as a working professional.

Inside Sendagi Station, nobody stopped us. When I attempted to buy a ticket, the ticket-window man insisted that emergency workers and their pets could travel at no cost.

“Search and rescue!” a mother explained to her her young son and daughter as Hachiko and I stood next to them waiting for the subway to Shinagawa, the volunteer bus’s departure point.

“Yes,” I told the children. “We are going to Tohoku.”

“Gambatte kudasai!”

“Gambatte, neh?
”

Dozens of friendly requests for Hachiko to work hard at her duty followed us all the way onto the Yamanote line and out to Shinagawa Station. Feeling pumped up, I practically danced the remaining blocks to the designated parking garage, one of those sixty-dollars-an-hour places that always made me roll my eyes. This evening, not many cars were parked. Instead, the garage was dominated by a long tour bus with a sign over its front windshield that spelled out “Helping Hands” in English. Fifteen people were already loading up the baggage compartment with their own heavy backpacks and duffels. Those who were waiting in line to get near the compartment caught sight of Hachiko and began asking me if they were permitted to pet her.