‘Except I’m looking for answers, Professor. I’d much rather be getting to the truth of what happened than engaging in theoretical exercises, if you don’t mind. That’s my job.’
Yukawa fell silent. His hot chocolate arrived. After a moment he lifted the cup and took a sip. ‘Of course,’ he muttered at last. ‘You’re right.’
‘Professor …’
The physicist reached out and retrieved the piece of paper off the table. ‘It’s a habit we scientists get into,’ he said. ‘Even if the solution to a problem is imaginary, we can’t rest until we look into it. But, of course, you’re a detective, not a scientist. You can’t be wasting your valuable time proving something’s impossible.’
He neatly refolded the paper and placed it in his jacket pocket. The edges of his mouth curled upward into a smile. ‘Forget I said anything.’
‘Why don’t you tell me what this impossible trick was?’ Utsumi said. ‘Then I can decide for myself whether or not it’s really impossible. Based on that, I can look into whatever you wanted me to check.’
‘I can’t do that,’ Yukawa replied.
‘Why not?’
‘If you knew what the trick was, it would colour your opinion, rendering you unable to conduct your research objectively. And, if you’re not going to look into it anyway, there’s no need for you to know the trick. Either way, I can’t tell you.’
Yukawa reached for the bill, but Utsumi grabbed it before he could pick it up. ‘It’s on me,’ she said.
‘Unthinkable,’ Yukawa said. ‘I made you come out here.’
Utsumi held out her other hand. ‘Give me that paper. I’ll look into it for you.’
‘But it’s an imaginary solution.’
‘I don’t care. If it’s the only solution we’ve got, I want to know what it is.’
Yukawa sighed and produced the paper. Utsumi peered at it briefly before putting it in her bag. ‘So … if it turns out that the answer isn’t “imaginary”, as you call it, after all, we have a chance at solving the mystery.’
‘Maybe,’ Yukawa muttered noncommittally as he pushed up his glasses with one finger.
‘We don’t have a chance?’
‘If it’s not imaginary,’ the physicist said, a keen glimmer in his eye, ‘then you still won’t be able to solve it. Neither will I. It’s the perfect crime.’
TWENTY
Hiromi Wakayama stared at the tapestry on the wall. Linked filaments of grey and navy blue formed an irregular belt that ran through the design. Bending and twisting, the belt curved under and over itself, ultimately returning to its point of origin to complete an elaborate loop. Though it was a fairly complicated design, when seen from a distance it appeared to be a simple geometrical pattern. Yoshitaka had called it an ‘ugly DNA spiral’, but Hiromi was rather fond of it. When Ayane did her show in Ginza, the piece had been displayed right next to the entrance. It was her design, but Hiromi’s work.
It wasn’t all that unusual in the art world for many of the works in an artist’s individual show to have actually been executed by their apprentices. In the case of patchwork particularly, where a single large piece could take several months to make, some division of labour was necessary, or an artist would be hard-pressed to make enough pieces to hold a show.
Nonetheless, Ayane had done most of the work in the Ginza show herself. At least eighty percent of the tapestries there had been entirely her own product. And yet she had chosen to show the one that her apprentice made up front. Hiromi remembered the thrill she had felt when she saw it there – a thrill that came from knowing her talent was being recognized by her teacher.
At the time, she had thought she wanted to work for Ayane Mashiba forever …
Ayane’s coffee mug made a loud clink as she set it down on the worktable. The two women were sitting across from each other at Anne’s House Patchwork School. Ordinarily at this time of day a class would be in session, and several students would be there, cutting and sewing cloth. But Ayane had yet to reopen the school to students. Today there were only the two of them, and the bomb that Hiromi had dropped between them –
‘Oh?’ Ayane said, holding her mug in both hands. ‘Well, if that’s your decision …’
‘I’m sorry to spring this on you,’ Hiromi said, lowering her head.
‘There’s no need to apologize. I was a little worried about how things might go myself. Maybe this is really for the best.’
‘It’s all my fault,’ Hiromi said. ‘I … I just don’t know what to say.’
‘Then don’t say anything. I don’t really want to sit here watching you apologize anymore.’
‘Oh, right. Sorry …’ Hiromi hung her head. She felt tears stinging her eyes, but she held them back. She didn’t want to make Ayane any more uncomfortable than she already had.
Hiromi had been the one who called, saying she needed to talk. Ayane had invited her to come to Anne’s House without even asking what she wanted to talk about.
She really has no idea I’m going to quit, Hiromi had thought.
She’d broken the news while Ayane was making tea.
And now Ayane was somehow managing to be solicitous. ‘Hiromi, are you sure you’ll be okay?’ she asked.
Swallowing a sob, Hiromi looked up.
‘I mean financially,’ the widow went on. ‘I’m worried you might not be able to find work so easily. Unless your family is in a position to help?’
‘Honestly, I haven’t figured any of that out yet. I’d like to leave my parents out of it if possible, but I might not have a choice. Still, I have a bit of savings, so I’m going to try to do things on my own as much as possible.’
‘Well,’ Ayane said, ‘that doesn’t sound so reassuring.’ She brushed her hair back across her ear several times – a sure sign she was irritated. ‘But maybe it’s not my place to worry about that.’
‘I don’t deserve it.’
‘Can we please lay off the self-pity?’ Ayane said, the sudden harshness in her voice sending shivers through Hiromi’s body. Her head drooped again.
‘Sorry,’ Ayane added quietly. ‘That wasn’t very nice of me. But I really don’t want you acting like this. Maybe it’s impossible for us to work together, but I do want you to be happy. That’s the truth.’
With some trepidation, Hiromi raised her head. Ayane was smiling – a thin, lonely smile; but it seemed genuine.
‘And the person responsible for making both of us feel like this isn’t around anymore.’ The widow’s voice was soft and distant. ‘It’s time we started looking forward, not back.’
Hiromi nodded, though the suggestion sounded all but impossible. Her love for Yoshitaka, her sadness at losing him, and her guilt for betraying her mentor all weighed too heavily on her heart.
‘How many years is it since you started working for me?’ Ayane asked, abruptly and deliberately cheerful.
‘About … three years, maybe a little more.’
‘Three years already? If you were in high school, you’d have already graduated. Maybe that’s how we should think of it: your graduation!’
Hiromi almost shook her head. I’m not so much of a fool that that would cheer me up.
‘You had a key for the classroom, didn’t you?’
‘Oh, right, I’ll give it back,’ Hiromi said, reaching into her bag.
‘No, you hold onto it.’
‘But—’
‘I know you’ve left lots of stuff here. It will take you a while before everything is cleaned out. And if there’s anything else you need, go ahead and take it. How about that tapestry? I know you like it.’ Ayane indicated the tapestry Hiromi had been admiring before.
‘That one – really?’