Puppet Master vol.1

  　“I'll think about it,” he said quietly.

  　“If you ever want to try it, just let me know.”

  　“I will. But there's something else I'm worried about.”

  　“Mm?”

  　“On Rocky's belly─look, right here. There's a bald patch, right? I noticed it a while ago, but then all that happened and I forgot about it. Maybe it's a skin disease? Shouldn't we take him to the vet?”

  　Yoshiyuki was caught off balance by the sudden change in subject. “What? Where? Oh, you're right …”

  　And so it was decided that Shinichi would take Rocky to the vet on Monday evening. Fortunately it wasn't anything to worry about and he'd just applied some medicine to the area, and now Rocky was energetically pulling him along on the way back home. And they were about to pass by Okawa Park. The entrance to the park was just the other side of the road.

  　Shinichi stopped at the crossing and looked at the park. The sky was still light but the trees and shrubs were sunk in darkness. The high-rise condos on the north side looked like giant termite mounds. There was a burst of lively voices as a group of junior-high boys on bicycles came out of the park, past the sign that said “No Vehicles.” There was a lot of traffic on the road too, and Rocky's ears twitched.

  　PTSD. He needed treatment. He needed a helping hand from outside. That was the state he was in. He couldn't get over it by himself─but he had to get over it. As the only survivor, it was his responsibility. If he'd said this out loud, Aunt Yoshie would have told him no, that wasn't true. Shinichi wasn't responsible for anything that had happened. The fact he was even thinking he was responsible was proof that he had been hurt psychologically. That detective he'd met at Bokuto Police Station─what was his name?─oh yes, Takegami. He'd said the same thing. You're not responsible.

  　But they were wrong. He was responsible. That was where his case was different from others. It had been because of his own carelessness that his family had been attacked, something that he'd said. My Dad just got an unexpected windfall. He shook his head hard to rid himself of the memory, and inadvertently tugged on Rocky's leash. The dog stumbled and stood on his foot.

  　“Sorry, Rocky!”

  　He patted the dog's head, then looked up just as the traffic light leading to the park was changing. The green light was flashing. He plucked up the courage and pulled on Rocky's leash, and together they ran across the road.

  　The Okawa Park case has nothing to do with me. I'm not connected to it in any way, and I'm not responsible for it. I'm just a witness, someone who discovered it. So I don't need to be afraid. Let's be very clear about that. There are other ghosts I need to fear, but they're not here. If I can't even be clear about that, how can I ever take responsibility for the things I should?

  　That hand had only been pointing at him like the finger of Death because he didn't have any guts, because he was running away. Enough's enough. You have to stop doing that, Shinichi scolded himself. You're only getting scared over nothing because you want everyone's sympathy─and see what happens? Uncle Yoshiyuki thinks you're mentally ill and should go see a doctor. Isn't that a piece of good luck for you? You got a great excuse with the park incident and can get everyone to worry about you, isn't that what you're thinking? How cowardly can you be? You mustn't run away from this. Let's walk the same route again today. You have to make sure there's nothing there now, that what happened that day is nothing to do with you, that you can't hide behind it.

  　He gave Rocky a tug and ran through the park, the dog running joyously with him. There was hardly anyone around, just a bicycle cutting through now and then. He'd heard from a friend that the police had opened the park again two days later, presumably because their search hadn't turned up anything else. The TV broadcast vans had stopped coming, and the park was getting back to normal: the usual tranquil space, the scent of green, some litter on the paths.

  　Out of breath, Shinichi came to the place near the park's south gate where the trash can had been. It wasn't there. He stood for a while staring at the spot, catching his breath. There were marks on the path where it had stood, and some people had still thrown some crumpled bags and other trash down even though it wasn't there any more. The police had probably taken it away. Or perhaps it had been scrapped because of what had happened.

  　Shinichi breathed a sigh of relief. He was certain it was the same place. Cosmo flowers with their pliant stems were in bloom in the flowerbeds behind him. It was here that he'd seen King and his owner. That girl─Kumi Mizuno, wasn't it? What was she doing now? He didn't suppose she was as stressed out about it as he was. After all, she'd said how exciting it was. There was nothing here any more. What happened was a tragedy, of course, but it didn't have anything to do with him. “Let's go home, Rocky!” He pulled on the leash and set off, walking at a much slower pace. He left the park and walked back to the crossing on the north side.

  　He was looking down the whole time, not paying attention to his surroundings. He hadn't noticed the girl watching him, and neither he nor Rocky paid any attention when some light footsteps ran up behind and passed them. It wasn't until he reached the crossing and saw the girl looking at them that he realized she'd been waiting for them. He was still looking down, so all he saw at first were the feet─from the knees down. White socks were peeping out over the top of the high-cut sneakers. Shapely, good-looking legs. A mini skirt. Even as Shinichi approached, the owner of those shapely legs didn't move or turn away, but stayed facing him. He raised his head.

  　It was a girl about his age. She was wearing a red pullover, and a hairband to match. Her face had balanced, rather reserved features. He had seen her somewhere before.

  　“You're Tsukada-kun, right?” she said to him. “Shinichi Tsukada?”

  　He recognized her voice, too. She looked serious. She was slim, with a pointed chin. Her mouth was tense, and only her thin lips moved, like some independent creature, while her eyes, nose, cheeks remained absolutely expressionless.

  　“I'm Megumi Higuchi,” she said.

  　And that's when Shinichi remembered who she was.

  Chapter 7

  At the same time Shinichi was walking Rocky in Okawa Park, Yoshio was trudging wearily down the stairs at JR Higashi-Nakano Station. He was on his way to meet Shigeru to discuss the details of the stopgap measures they needed to take, such as Machiko's hospitalization fees. It was just after four in the afternoon, the busiest time of the day at his shop. He felt terrible about leaving Kida to deal with everything alone, but Shigeru had told him that this was the only time he could make it.

  　Shigeru had arrived ahead of Yoshio and was standing outside the house waiting for him. Though the house was rightly his─he alone was paying off the loan─Shigeru hadn't even opened the front door, much less gone inside, and was standing with his back to it.

  　“Haven't you got a key?” Yoshio asked as he went up to him.

  　“I gave it back to Machiko when we separated,” Shigeru told him and bowed his head. “I haven't seen you for ages, Dad. I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused.”

  　Looking over his shoulder, Yoshio could see the name plate “Shigeru, Machiko, Mariko Furukawa.” The three names were still there, standing side-by-side on good terms.

  　Yoshio couldn't find the words to answer right away, and opened the front door in silence. He fumbled around for the switch, and turned the lights on. Shigeru followed him inside without saying anything. Yoshio half expected him to come out with the formulaic greeting of a guest, “Excuse me for disturbing you,” as he slipped off his shoes and stepped up into the hallway.

  　The air inside the house was heavy and stale. Yoshio had come the day before yesterday to get a change of clothes for Machiko and to take out the trash, but there was still a faint moldy smell coming from the kitchen. Shigeru stood in the doorway to the living room, looking around. The glass ashtray on the table, the calendar on the wall, the decorative plates on the shelf, the curtains─h
e looked intently at each in turn, as if trying to spot the differences. For his part, Yoshio was studying Shigeru's profile. It really had been a long time since he'd seen his son-in-law.

  　Shigeru was forty-four, the same age as Machiko. They had been classmates at high school, sitting next to each other in class for three years. After graduating they had gone separate ways, but when they were twenty-three they had run into each other again at a class reunion, and had started dating, and in no time at all were married. In fact, Machiko was already five months pregnant with Mariko at the time of the wedding. Everyone at the reception knew. All the couple's friends were congratulating them on it, which wasn't a bad thing in itself, but as the bride's father Yoshio couldn't help feeling embarrassed about it. He was smiling uncomfortably in all the wedding photos of the occasion, revealing his self-consciousness as a father with an only daughter who was precocious, beautiful, and sexually active.

  　Given the circumstances, it was hardly the time for Yoshio or his wife Toshiko to approve or disapprove of the match. As far as they were concerned, Shigeru had a duty to start a family with Machiko. He worked for a big company, and while his salary wasn't all that high, it was enough to support them, so that wasn't a problem. The marriage went ahead, and the young couple set up home in company housing and started their new life together by making preparations for the baby's arrival. Everything had gone smoothly, and he'd never been aware of any problems.

  　“You look like you're in a strange house,” Yoshio said.

  　Shigeru started as though he'd been woken form a trance. “Yes … I am. That's exactly how I feel.” He stretched out a hand and stroked the top of the living-room table. “It's dusty.”

  　Yoshio headed for the kitchen. “I'll get some tea. Do sit down.”

  　Shigeru sat down on the edge of the sofa. He picked up a newspaper, still with the advertising fliers tucked inside it, from a pile on the table, opened it out, and said, “I guess you should cancel the newspaper subscription.”

  　“I already did. Yesterday's was the last.”

  　“Are you coming here every day?”

  　“Every other day.” Yoshio came back into the living room carrying a cup used for guests filled with weak green tea. “Machiko is wearing the gown provided by the hospital, but she needs underwear and towels and things, so I drop by here on my way back from the hospital. I had to ask Taka's wife to help with the underwear. She's doing the laundry for me too.”

  　“Thanks,” said Shigeru, bowing his head again. Yoshio noticed that the hair on the top of his head was thinning.

  　Shigeru was on the skinny side and didn't look strong, but he wasn't bad-looking. When he and Machiko had gotten married, they'd been teased and envied for being a handsome match. Machiko was amused by that, and boasted about how good-looking her husband was. To see Machiko now, it took some imagination to guess just how cute she had been when she was young. Shigeru, on the other hand, still had plenty of his old charm. It didn't take any effort to know how attractive he'd been as a young man. Yoshio didn't know what he would be like in ten years' time, but for now Shigeru still had it. Even Machiko had admitted that. “Seems he's a hit with the ladies at work, too,” she'd said laughing. That was when things were still going well between them, or at least when she'd thought they were still going well. “He often gets asked out on dates by the girls who work for him. Young women these days don't have any scruples!”

  　The woman Shigeru was living with now was fifteen years younger. She'd been working in a club that he had frequented─not that she was really part of that world, she'd just been a part-timer there. Yoshio hadn't met her, and Machiko resolutely avoided talking about her. Just once Mariko had said indignantly, “Look, she's really nothing special. She's pretty plain really. I'm better looking, to be frank. There's nothing that makes her stand out. I don't know what he sees in her.” Yoshio thought it was just this indefinable kind of woman that was the most difficult, and started to say so, but in the end kept quiet. Even handsome Shigeru was going bald. He wondered if it was going well between him and the woman. What effect had the current situation had on their relationship?

  　“About the hospital fees,” Shigeru said.

  　Yoshio was brought back to himself. “Ah, that's what we came to talk about.”

  　Shigeru nodded. “I've been thinking about the best way to do this. The easiest way is probably to use the account Machiko withdraws her living expenses from. The bank book and ATM card must be here somewhere─she keeps them in a drawer if I remember right.”

  　“You're saying that I should use that bankbook?”

  　“Yes, that's right.”

  　“So you're not getting involved.” He hadn't meant it to sound like he was grilling him, but Shigeru averted his eyes.

  　“At this stage, I don't have the right to. But I pay money regularly into that account. Even now, every month I pay in half of my salary. I'm also paying off the mortgage on the house, so there's no need to worry about that.”

  　“Have you been to the hospital?” Yoshio asked.

  　“Yes, I have. I went as soon as the police contacted me.

  　“So, you met Machiko?”

  　“Yes─or rather, I saw her through the ICU window.”

  　“Didn't you feel sorry for her?”

  　Shigeru grimaced. “Yes, I did. She hadn't even regained consciousness─”

  　“She still hasn't.”

  　Shigeru looked surprised. “Really?”

  　It was true. The doctor, too, had been concerned about this. There were no abnormalities in her brainwaves, he'd told Yoshio, puzzled. Machiko didn't want to wake up, Yoshio thought. If she woke up, she would have to face up to the tough reality. It was far easier to stay asleep.

  　“You're the only person Machiko can rely on now.”

  　But Shigeru shook his head. The words that came out of his mouth were civil, but cold. “Machiko has you, her father. You are much more use to her now than I am.”

  　“Shigeru─”

  　“I'm sorry, but you must understand. Properly speaking, Machiko and I were supposed to have divorced. The fact that we have remained just separated─”

  　“Is because Machiko refused to give her consent?” Yoshio said angrily.

  　Shigeru raised his eyes and looked him directly in the eye. “No. Machiko did give her consent. At least that's what she said to me. It's just that she wanted to wait for Mariko's sake, considering how she would feel if her parents just went ahead and divorced while she was missing. Yurie also agreed that was for the best.”

  　“Yurie?” repeated Yoshio, then realized that must be the new woman's name.

  　“Neither Yurie nor I can sleep for worry, you know.”

  　Of course they couldn't! His own daughter had been missing for almost a hundred days, and now that finally some clue had emerged, it was in connection with a murder case. What parent would be able to sleep well in such circumstances?

  　“But there's nothing we can do. And all I can do is ask you to look after Machiko, and rely on the police for Mariko. I can only wait. As for money, though,” he added forcefully, “I'll do what I can. That much is my duty. Let's look for that bankbook. I expect it's together with her insurance policy.”

  　“Forget it,” Yoshio said.

  　“What?”

  　“I said forget it. I don't need your money. There's nothing I want from you.”

  　“Dad … but that's─”

  　“Don't worry about it. I'll pay for Machiko's hospital fees. That's fine with me, so you can leave now.”

  　Yoshio stood up in a rage, grabbed the empty teacup and took it to the kitchen. He turned on the faucet and water rushed into the sink. But the sound of the water wasn't loud enough to drown out the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He was so furious that he felt dizzy.

  　Yesterday, when Shigeru had told him he wanted to meet at this house, Yoshio had been delighted. He'd been feel
ing hurt that he'd only been able to contact Shigeru through the police, and had been expecting him to make excuses for abandoning Machiko to her fate, so had been relieved when he'd said that he wanted to discuss things. Thinking that Shigeru was worried about Machiko, that he cared about her after all, Yoshio had even begun to hope that perhaps this could bring them back together again. But when you opened the lid and looked inside, this was all there was. Shigeru's concern was only to do with money. It was like he was saying, okay, okay, I'll pay whatever it takes, as long as you go there for me, wasn't it? He was treating them like scroungers.

  　“Dad …” Shigeru stood there, his shoulders sagging, looking helplessly at Yoshio. “I decided on this as a way to demonstrate my good faith. I will take care of Machiko's hospital expenses.”

  　“And I'm telling you I don't need your money.”

  　“Intensive care doesn't come cheap, you know. I don't mean to be rude, but if you have to keep paying it from the takings from your sho─”

  　“Even I have some savings. You don't need to worry about that,” Yoshio spat, almost shouting, and turned off the faucet. There was a clunk and the water stopped. Silence fell. Alongside the rage, a desperate feeling of wretchedness welled up in him. He felt unsteady on his feet. How satisfying it would be to punch Shigeru on the jaw so hard his teeth broke, just like he'd punched that stupid detective earlier.

  　“Look, Mr. Furukawa …” He hadn't called Shigeru that to his face for many years. He'd always called him Shigeru, even after he and Machiko had separated. But it was different now. Shigeru's very existence was now unmanageable, he was even worse than a complete stranger. “Okay, forget about Machiko. But what about Mariko? Don't you care about her? She's your own daughter. Aren't you concerned about her?”

  　“I said I was, didn't I?” Shigeru said, breathing hard. “But I have to leave it to the police to deal with. What do you want me to do? What can I do?”

  　Yoshi gripped the edge of the kitchen sink. He could feel himself shaking.