Kyohei scratched his head and looked down at the table. Yukawa had drawn several diagrams in a notebook spread out on the table. The most recent one was a shape with nine sides.
“I asked you how many triangles you can divide a nonagon into, but from that look on your face, I don’t have my hopes up for an answer.”
“Uh … right…” Kyohei hurriedly picked up his mechanical pencil, but he wasn’t even sure where to begin.
“Pick one corner, then draw lines from that corner to every other corner, except the ones right next to it. That means you can only draw six lines, giving you seven triangles. The sum of their inside angles is seven times 180 degrees, so 1,260 degrees.” Yukawa reached across the table and wrote the calculation in the notebook. He wrote upside down so Kyohei could read it, the pencil moving even faster than Kyohei could have written it right side up.
“What’s the matter?” The physicist raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “You aren’t focusing at all today. Something on your mind?”
“No,” Kyohei said, unable to come up with a good excuse. When his phone began to ring, he reached for it, thinking, Saved by the bell. But he didn’t recognize the number on the display.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Yukawa asked.
“My mom told me never to answer the phone if I don’t recognize the number.”
“The number wouldn’t happen to be…” Yukawa said, rattling off ten digits in rapid succession, “… would it?”
Kyohei jerked in his seat. “Yeah. How’d you know?” He held up the phone to Yukawa.
“It’s for me,” Yukawa said, snatching the phone from Kyohei’s hand and answering it as though he’d done nothing out of the ordinary at all. “Yeah,” he said. “No problem. You find anything out after that?” He stood and left the room, still talking.
Hey, that’s my phone, Kyohei thought, standing with a scowl. He went over to the door and opened it a little. He could see Yukawa standing with his back to the room, phone pressed to his ear.
“I see. Ogikubo? Yes, that’s probably it, then. I knew it had something to do with the family. Right, good idea.”
Kyohei slid the door shut and stepped quietly back to his spot at the table. His knees were trembling, just like they had the night before. His uncle’s voice echoed in his ears.
“He knows. That professor knows.”
FORTY-ONE
When a guest stays six days, it starts getting hard to come up with a new menu for dinner, Narumi thought with some guilt as she laid out a meal almost exactly the same as the one from the night before.
Yukawa walked into the dining room. “Evening.”
“Hello, Mr. Yukawa. Did you go out to the survey boat again today?”
Yukawa nodded, sitting cross-legged on his cushion by the low dinner table. “I finally have things up to speed to start some tests. Makes me wonder when I’ll be able to go back to Tokyo, though.”
“You’ll be here a while longer?”
“It’s hard to say. If DESMEC would stop wasting everyone’s time, this should really only take a few days.”
There was a sound at the door, and Kyohei strode in. As usual, he sat down across from Yukawa. He was carrying a tray with some pork cutlets and rice.
“Once again, you’ve got quite a feast for yourself.”
“I’m always willing to share,” Kyohei said.
Yukawa snorted and looked up at Narumi. “I have a request. Starting tomorrow, can I have the same dinner as him?”
“Oh, but that’s the family dinner, you don’t want that—”
“Actually, I do want that. And don’t worry, I won’t ask you to lower your rates or anything.”
Narumi rested her hands on her knees and hung her head. “I’m sorry. You must be sick of the same thing every night. I’m really trying my hardest.”
Yukawa chuckled dryly and waved his chopsticks in front of his face. “I’m not upset. The seafood here is remarkable. It’s just, it’s possible to grow tired of restaurant food, and start wanting something a little more like home.”
Narumi looked him in the eye. “You mean like your wife cooks?”
Yukawa shrugged. “Unfortunately, my wife doesn’t cook anything, because I’m not married. When I speak of home cooking, I mean things that I make at home. Although I’ve no doubt the home-cooked meals from your kitchen would be several grades superior. Do you do the cooking here?”
“I help, but it’s my mom who does most of it. When we’re busier, we have a cook who comes.”
“Your mother?” Yukawa said, sticking his chopsticks into some jellied fish. “Well, she has quite a bit of talent. Did she study somewhere?”
“She worked at a restaurant when she was younger. I think as a sort of apprentice.”
“Someplace in Tokyo?”
Narumi shrugged. “I think so.”
“Oh, I know that story,” Kyohei butted in. “She met Uncle Shigehiro at a restaurant, right?” He looked to Narumi for confirmation.
“Right,” she admitted. “But I don’t know any embarrassing details, if that’s what you’re after.”
Yukawa shrugged. “It was before you were born.”
“They made lots of local dishes there, that’s what Uncle Shigehiro said,” Kyohei added.
“Local to where?” Yukawa asked.
“I mean they caught lots of fish from the sea here in Hari Cove and made it like they do here, except they were serving it at the restaurant in Tokyo. Get it? That made it taste different from the other places. My uncle told me all about it.”
“Was that so?” Yukawa asked, looking at Narumi.
She shrugged, unsure why the physicist’s eyes put a knot in her stomach.
“Well, it sounds fabulous. Local food away from home. A welcome taste for people in the big city, no doubt. That must’ve been what attracted your father. Sounds like destiny to me.”
“Sounds like you’ve been watching too many movies,” Narumi said, shaking her head.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of people from around here ended up at that restaurant, along with your father. They must’ve had quite the reunion, familiar friends around familiar dishes.”
“I don’t know. I guess,” Narumi said, standing. “My parents never really talk about it.” She tried to smile, but her cheeks were tight and her face drawn. “Enjoy your meal,” she managed, and fled the room.
* * *
Back in the lobby, she stopped when she saw the painting on the wall, remembering what Yukawa had said to her the night before. He knew the painting had been made in East Hari. And now he was asking more questions. She regretted having mentioned that Setsuko had ever worked at a restaurant.
She wondered what Yukawa knew. How much had he realized? And what had he been discussing with his detective friend, Kusanagi? The sound of the telephone ringing on the front counter stopped her on the way to the kitchen. She tensed, a bad feeling welling up inside her as she remembered the last call she had taken from the Tokyo Police Department. Her throat felt tight. She coughed once to clear it before picking up the receiver. “Hello, Green Rock Inn.”
“Hello? I’m sorry, but is this the Kawahata residence?” The voice belonged to a young woman. She sounded very polite.
“Yes, it is, may I ask who’s speaking?”
There was a pause, then the woman said, “Yes, my name’s Reiko Ozeki. Is Narumi home?”
Narumi immediately began flipping through faces in her head. It took about three seconds before she remembered.
“Reiko! Hi, how are you? It’s me.”
“I thought it was you! Your voice hasn’t changed at all. It’s been so long! How have you been?”