'Can I come in a minute?' Masako said. As she stepped into the cramped entrance hall and closed the door behind her, her eyes were drawn involuntarily to the spot where Kenji had sat that night. Realising what the look meant, Yayoi glanced away.
'It's early to be leaving for work,' she said.
'I know, but I needed to talk to you.' Yayoi's face hardened as she remembered the fight they'd had at the factory.
'What about?'
Masako peered beyond her toward the living room. 'What time does Morisaki-san come?' The children had apparently gone to bed. The sound of a news programme could be heard on the TV.
'I've been meaning to tell you,' Yayoi said, her face clouding over. 'She doesn't come here any more.'
'Why?' said Masako, feeling inexplicably apprehensive.
'About a week ago she suddenly announced she had to go back to the country. I tried to get her to change her mind, but she said she had no choice. The kids were heartbroken, and Yoko was almost crying, too.'
'Where was she from?'
'She never said exactly.' Yayoi was unable to hide the wounded look on her face. 'She just said she'd get in touch later. And I thought we were such good friends.'
'Look, you need to tell me exactly how you got to know her.' Yayoi gulped and then launched into the details of how she'd met Morisaki and how their friendship had developed. As she spoke, Masako became more convinced than ever that the woman had come to snoop around. Yayoi noticed the worried look on her face.
'Why are you so worked up about her?' she said. 'I think you're reading too much into it.'
'Maybe,' said Masako, 'but I think somebody's poking about trying to find out about us. I just want you to be careful.' She'd finally put her suspicions into words.
'Are you sure? . . . Who? Why?' Yayoi cried, as if at last she'd understood. Drops of water fell from her hair. 'Is it the police?'
'I don't think so.'
'Then who?'
Masako shook her head. 'I don't know. Which is why I'm worried.'
'Then you think Yoko was in on this?'
'Probably.' The odds were that the woman had already cleared out of her apartment, so there was little point in trying to trace her that way. But one thing was certain: whoever it was, they'd spent a good deal of money on renting an apartment just to be near Yayoi. It made her flesh creep to think that someone was willing to go to such lengths to spy on them.
'Maybe it was somebody from the insurance company,' Yayoi suggested.
'But haven't they already agreed to pay on the policy?'
'Yes. I should be getting the money next week.'
'Maybe that's what they're after,' Masako said. Yayoi rubbed her arms, as if warding off the cold.
'You think they're after me? What should I do?'
'They know you because you went on that TV programme. I think it might be better if you stopped coming to work. You need to lie low for a while.'
'You really think so?' she said, looking at her. 'But if I quit, those two will know I came into some money.' Masako returned her look, realising that a lot of what Yayoi had done up to this point had been prompted by uneasiness about Yoshie and Kuniko. She was struck by how calculating Yayoi had become since she'd got rid of Kenji.
'You don't have to worry about them,' she said.
'I suppose you're right.' She nodded, but there was still doubt in her eyes - doubt as to whether she could trust Masako herself, perhaps.
'I won't say anything,' Masako said, anticipating her concern.
'I know. Besides, you've already got the two million.' The words were like a slap, and Masako realised their argument at the factory was still in the air.
'A fair enough fee for carving up your husband,' she said. She held up her hand. 'I'll be going then.'
'Thanks for coming by,' Yayoi said.
As she was closing the car door, Yayoi came running out of the house. Masako opened the door on the passenger side.
'I almost forgot,' Yayoi said, slipping inside. Her hands reached up to smooth her damp hair, and a girlish smell of conditioner filled the car.
'What?'
'What did you mean the other night at the factory? What kind of "work" were you going to do? Another body?'
'I'm not telling you,' Masako said, starting the engine. The sound echoed through the quiet neighbourhood.
'Why not?' Yayoi said, biting her pretty lips. Masako stared at the windshield without looking at her, counting the dried leaves pinned under the wipers.
'I don't want to.'
'But why?'
'You don't need to know,' Masako said. 'Not an innocent lamb like you.'
Yayoi got out without another word. As Masako put the car in reverse and backed out of the alley, she could hear the sound of a door slamming.
2
It was late afternoon. As soon as she got out of bed, Kuniko turned on the TV. Then she had a boxed lunch - one of theirs, naturally which she'd bought at the convenience store on the corner. It was a grilled beef lunch, probably made on the line next to hers, and she could immediately detect the hand of a novice in the way the meat was arranged on the rice. So much the better! New girls could never keep up with the pace of the conveyor belt, and the container was always getting away from them before they'd really finished smoothing the meat - which meant that the lunch contained a mound of twisted beef that was far bigger than the usual portion.
It was a sign, getting a lunch like this: it was going to be her lucky day. She spread out the pieces of meat, carefully counting each one. Eleven! It's amazing that Nakayama didn't blow a fuse, she chuckled to herself. The Skipper could completely cover the rice with just six pieces. The Skipper. . . . She seemed rather flush lately. She'd suddenly announced that she was sending her daughter to college, and then said they were looking for a new apartment. How could she afford all that on the ¥500,000 from Yayoi? It would cost nearly that just to move.
Maybe she'd had something stashed away? No, that was ridiculous. Kuniko knew how hard up she'd been before all this in fact, she'd often thought she would rather die than have to live the way Yoshie did. There was something fishy about the whole thing. She sat puzzling over this mystery, being more than usually keen when it came to money matters.
Her speculations developed into a theory: maybe Yayoi had secretly decided to pay Yoshie more than ¥500,000. Once she'd hit on this idea, there was no way to control her jealousy. She had always found the thought of anyone else's happiness almost unbearable, and she was easily convinced that she was getting a raw deal. Now these feelings fuelled her theory. Deciding that she would have to corner Yoshie - no, Yayoi - at the factory and grill her, she picked up her chopsticks and started wolfing down the meat.
In mid-mouthful, she stopped chewing for a moment and grinned, remembering that she still had ¥180,00 0 left of the money she'd received. After paying off the interest on various loans, she'd had plenty left over for the red leather jacket, a black skirt and a purple sweater. A pair of boots had caught her eye as well, but she'd decided to forgo them in favour of some new cosmetics. And she still had ¥180,000. Was there anything better than cash in your pocket? Wiping out Jumonji's loan had been a real stroke of luck.
She had absolutely no interest in knowing why Jumonji had wanted to find out their secret or how he had used the information. As long as it didn't come back to haunt her, what did it matter? It had crossed her mind that she'd go to jail if the whole thing ever came out, but now that the police seemed to have lost interest, that hardly seemed likely. Her part in it all, the whole mess - it all seemed like ancient history now. Except if she could still make it pay. . . . Threats, blackmail, anything for the bottom line!
She tossed the empty lunch container in the trash and went to wash her face, then sat down at her dressing table to apply her make-up for work. She pulled the wrapper off a new lipstick and tried it on. The new brown for autumn. The clerk at the make-up counter had persuaded her to buy it, but now she realised it made her pale, flesh
y face look sinister. Her lips seemed to jump out at her. When she'd tried it on at the store, the woman had told her how nice it looked. How could she have believed her? ¥4,500 down the drain. She'd have been better off with an ¥800 lipstick from the supermarket.... Still, she might be able to make it work if she changed the kind of foundation she was using. Pleased with this new idea, she began leafing through her magazines for features on make-up. Yes, everything would be okay if she bought a new foundation .. . and the boots. She bought things to satisfy a need; and the new products themselves invariably led to new needs, in a gradually mounting spiral. But in the final analysis, this endless chase was the reason for Kuniko's existence - it was her whole existence.
Finishing with her make-up, she slipped on the new purple sweater and the new black skirt over a pair of black tights. Now this was more like it. As she gave herself a satisfied look in the mirror, she felt a sudden rush: she wanted a man. When was the last time she'd had sex? She pulled out the Mister Minute calendar. Tetsuya had left at the end of July, so it had been more than three months. He'd been a useless asshole, but there had been one upside to having him around. Feeling suddenly depressed, she threw herself down among the clothes strewn on the bed.
She wanted somebody to tell her how pretty she looked in all her new things. She wanted somebody to hold her. And not a wimp like Tetsuya; a real man - any man. Even a groper would do, even a one-night stand, if she could only get lucky enough to land one. Her longing grew uncontrollably, demanding satisfaction.
Just as her imagination had given rise to a whole series of suspicions about Yoshie, just as one product seemed to stimulate a need for lots more, now her sexual desire seemed to grow out of all proportion. She suddenly thought of Kazuo Miyamori. He was probably a few years younger than she was, but he was goodlooking and well built - maybe because of the mixed blood - and she'd had her eye on him for some time. He'd been so nice and polite when they'd asked him to take care of their money. If he had to share that dorm room of his with a room-mate, you could bet he'd be getting a little horny. Confident in her reading of the situation, she decided she'd find an excuse to talk with him at the factory. Yes, that's what she'd do. Remembering again that she had money in her purse, she got up from the bed with her spirits restored.
-
Kuniko opened the car door. She decided to carry her jacket in order to show off the purple sweater. Since she'd just had her hair done, she would keep the top of the Golf up today. The one thing bothering her was the possibility of running into Masako in the parking lot. She couldn't stand the sight of the woman's face any more, and she certainly had no intention of working the same line with her. But the only way to avoid seeing her was to get to work a little early. The thought made Kuniko drive away more recklessly than usual.
When she reached the factory parking lot, a man was standing next to the new guardhouse there. A nightstick hung from the belt of his grey uniform, and a large flashlight was attached to the breast pocket. Kuniko got out of the car slowly, her mood somewhat dampened by the realisation that with the guard there she'd never get her date with the neighbourhood pervert - exactly as Masako had predicted. She glared at him as she shut the car door.
'Good evening,' the man said, bowing in her direction. Impressed by this show of gallantry, she looked at him more carefully. The guards at the factory were all retirees who were way over the hill, but this one was much younger. He was solidly built and looked quite sharp in his uniform. It was too dark in the lot to get a good look at his face, but she had a feeling she'd like it, too.
'Morning!' she almost shouted, buoyed up again. He seemed surprised by this hearty greeting, but only for a second.
'Are you headed for the factory?' he asked.
'Yes,' said Kuniko.
'Then I'll walk you there,' he said, coming over to her car. His voice was low and smooth.
'Will you really?' Kuniko purred, beginning to flirt in earnest.
'I'm supposed to walk everyone at least part of the way.'
'Each of us individually?'
'Yes, but just till we get past the old factory, where the light gets better.' The light from the guardhouse showed his profile for a moment. It was a plain enough face, though the thick lips were attractive. There was something strange about it, however, not a face that fell into any of her known categories.
'Still, I'd be glad for the company at least that far,' she said, congratulating herself on having worn her new outfit, and having spent the extra time on her make-up. She felt sure she looked especially good today. Hoping that something might come of this, she waited for a moment at the entrance to the lot while the guard removed his flashlight and shone it on the ground in front of her feet. The brightly lit circle of gravel faded at its fringes. She fell in step next to him, enjoying the idea that they were leaving on an adventure together, heading off down the dark road.
'Is that your own car?' the man said. His voice sounded brighter, as if his mood now matched hers.
'Yes.'
'Not bad,' he said, sounding quite impressed.
'Thanks,' Kuniko giggled, forgetting for the moment that she had three more years of payments to make on the car.
'How long have you had it?'
'Three years now. But it costs a fortune. It doesn't get very good .. . what's the word?'
'Mileage?' he said.
'That's it. It doesn't get good mileage.' She gave his arm a squeeze as she said this, and her heart skipped a beat as her hand met hard muscle.
'How many kilometres to the litre?' he asked.
'Oh, I don't know,' she said. 'But the man at the gas station says it's not so good.'
'They say the handling's a little sluggish, too.'
'You certainly seem to know a lot about it,' she said, smiling broadly. She felt a surge of happiness. 'Have you driven one?'
'Not me. Foreign cars are too rich for my blood.' The man smiled as he came to a stop in front of the abandoned factory. The dilapidated building had always struck her as rather creepy, but today it seemed to lend some atmosphere to the situation, like the fanciful ruins tricked up for an amusement park. 'This is as far as I go,' the guard said. Kuniko felt a bit disappointed that their walk had come to such a sudden end. 'You be careful now,' he added, giving a quick salute. 'And have a good shift.'
'Thanks!' said Kuniko as brightly as she could, delighted to have discovered such a promising prospect. Who knew where it might lead? And in response to this new stimulus, all her other fancies came bubbling to the surface. She'd buy a new suit as well, to match the boots. Black, of course - it made you look slimmer. She was in such a good mood now, nothing could bother her; and if she ran into Kazuo Miyamori, he'd just have to take a rain check.
Humming to herself, she changed into her soiled uniform, which she resolved to take home soon for a good washing. Yoshie then appeared in the changing room in her usual worn-out sweatshirt and a tired black sweater. On her chest, though, was a brand-new silver pin. Kuniko noticed it immediately, and her brain did a quick appraisal: at least ¥5,000, she decided. Much too fancy for the Skipper.
'You're early.' The look of dislike on Yoshie's face as she said this made Kuniko's blood boil, but she controlled herself.
'Good morning,' she answered in her politest manner. Then she tried flattery: 'That's a beautiful brooch.'
'This?' Yoshie said, with a faint smile. 'I decided I just had to have it. I've always wanted one like this, but I could never afford it. It was either this or getting my hair done, and I went for the brooch. It's a little present to myself.'
'With Yayoi's money?' Kuniko asked, dropping her voice.
'Yes,' said Yoshie, her face turning red. 'I suppose I should be ashamed of myself.'
'Not at all, I think it's lovely.' Having finished changing and knowing that Masako would be showing up any minute, she decided it was time to begin pumping her. 'Skipper,' she said, 'I wanted to ask you something about the money.'
Yoshie lowered her voice too
and looked around the room before saying, 'What about it?'
'Did you really get the same amount I did?'
'What do you mean?' she said, looking annoyed.
'Nothing, nothing, it's just that I didn't do very much and I was afraid I took too much. I didn't want any hard feelings about getting the same as you did . .. since Masako originally said I'd be getting ¥100,000.'
'Don't worry about it,' Yoshie told her, patting her ample shoulder. 'We all had a bad time.'
'So you really got ¥500,000?'
'I really did,' Yoshie nodded. But Kuniko noticed she avoided her eyes. She's lying, she thought.
'Then how can you afford to be living so high on the hog?'
'High on the hog? What are you talking about?' she said, astonished.
'I'm talking about all the things you've been doing. It looks to me as though you got more than ¥500,000.'
'Even if I did, what business is it of yours?'
'None really, I suppose,' said Kuniko, giving Yoshie's brooch a vicious look. Yoshie glanced toward the lounge, as if searching for someone to rescue her, and her face relaxed into a relieved smile. Masako had just arrived, looking a bit smarter than usual herself, in a form-fitting black sweater and black pants.
'I don't believe it,' Kuniko said in an exaggerated whisper. 'She actually looks like a woman.' Masako, however, apparently missed the remark, as she went straight over to the ashtray near the vending machines to smoke a cigarette. While she puffed away, she stared gloomily at the notices taped to the wall. Kuniko studied the unfamiliar outfit. The two of them had pulled a fast one on her, she thought. Still, she couldn't confront Masako with it.
'See you later,' she said to Yoshie, picking up her work hat and hurrying out of the changing room. She slipped behind Masako, who was still facing the wall, and escaped out into the corridor. Yayoi was next, and she wouldn't rest until she got the truth out of her
But there was no sign of her. She waited, but she didn't come. She went to the entrance and was just about to check the time cards when she sensed there was someone behind her.