“No, I mean getting involved in another mystery. You were sort of pulled into the first mystery, but with this one you seem to be the one pursuing things. You’ve been running some awful risks with those guys after you. You think some people have been murdered for those swords, and yet you push on.”
“I’m doing this because I don’t have much going in my life, except for you. I’m over forty and unemployed and my life is half over. I don’t want to play the second half as safe as I played the first half. This mystery has become important to me, and failing to solve it would be a kind of road block on the new path my life seems to be going down.”
I said more than I intended, but I felt good about saying it. Mariko leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. It was a soft, gentle, loving kiss.
“Now,” Mariko said, “even though we’ve had this tender moment that doesn’t mean that I don’t intend to take you for every penny you have. Dig into your pockets and produce the rest of your loose change. Japanese or American money cheerfully accepted. Shuffle the cards.”
26
I could use a snack right now,” Mariko said, placing down a hanafuda card.
“Since you’ve cleaned me out, I’ll run into town and get something. There’s no room service at the inn, or maybe I should say ryokan.” I got off the zabuton cushion and stretched. “I’ll be back in fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“Don’t get any of those dried fish or dried squid snacks,” Mariko said. “Get us some real American potato chips or something like that.”
“We’re staying in a three-hundred-year-old Japanese inn and you want potato chips?”
Mariko looked at me and started going, “Yumm.”
“I’ll go, but you have to give me some money. You really have cleaned me out.” She started laughing, but she did fork over several hundred-yen coins.
I took off the yukata I was wearing and got my jeans and a sweatshirt on. I pulled on my jacket and made my way through the corridors of the inn to the front lobby. The lobby was deserted, but I found my shoes sitting in the little numbered box right where I left them. I put them on and made my way down the little road towards the lights of the business district of town. The night air was brisk, and I sucked it in, relishing the relatively novel sensation of air not tainted with the smog of Los Angeles or Tokyo.
There was a certain amount of nightlife because the town was a resort center for people visiting Lake Biwa and the surrounding countryside. Although the main business district of town was only about four blocks long, there must have been a half-dozen bars stretched out along those blocks, with bright neon signs casting a splash of garish light onto the street.
I figured sooner or later I’d come to some kind of open convenience store or liquor store where they would have snacks to purchase. I wasn’t quite sure about American-style potato chips, but I thought I could find something that would be good to munch on. There were a surprising number of people still milling around on the street at that time of night. Everybody seemed to be in a good mood, and even though the air was chilly, it was not so chilly that it was unpleasant.
I had walked about a half block into the business district when I stopped. At the end of the block, standing in front of a bar, was Junko. She had told us she wanted to take a shower and go to bed, so I was a bit surprised to see her out on the town. She was talking to a tall, thin man dressed in a topcoat with a hat pulled down low over his face. She seemed to be in earnest conversation when suddenly she looked up in alarm, grabbed the man by the arm, and quickly dragged him into the bar.
I looked across the street to see what had caused her to scurry into hiding with her companion. There, weaving through the crowd, was Sugimoto and another man who I didn’t recognize. Both looked like they were drunk, staggering down the street together. Sugimoto had on his black leather jacket and his companion was dressed in jeans and a ski parka.
I turned quickly and hurried back up the hill to the ryokan. I was so excited that I almost forgot to take my shoes off when I got into the lobby. I remembered at the last minute before I tromped on the tatami mats, and stopped quickly to rip off my shoes and stuff them into one of the numbered boxes.
I made my way through the maze of corridors and burst into the room where Mariko was resting. She looked up in surprise.
“That was fast. What kind of snack did you buy?”
“I didn’t buy any snacks. I saw something strange in town. Two things strange.”
“What?”
“Sugimoto’s in town. I saw him on the street in the village. He was there with another man. They looked like they were drunk.”
“What’s Sugimoto doing here?”
“Heaven knows. He’s supposed to be in Osaka. Now I see him here with some stranger and I’m beginning to wonder about his role in this entire thing. I’ve been suspicious of him for some time now. He was able to arrange an interview with the head of the Sekiguchi-gummi pretty easily, and his family is supposed to be involved in the music business. The Yakuza are supposed to be involved in show business.”
I unzipped my jacket and continued. “I also saw something else that’s puzzling.”
“What was that?”
“I saw Junko in town. She was talking to somebody I didn’t recognize, someone tall with a hat on. The hat was pulled low so I couldn’t see his face, as if he wanted to hide his identity.”
“Did she see Sugimoto, too?”
“She sure did, and as soon as she saw him, she grabbed whoever she was with and ducked into a bar. She looked as startled to see Sugimoto as I did. I think she was trying to hide from him.”
“That’s strange. Maybe she just changed her mind about going to bed, got restless, and went into town and met someone.”
“I bet she met someone,” I said. “Maybe one of the guys who have been after me. One was a tall guy with a gold tooth. I didn’t see his face, but the guy she was talking to was tall.”
“Now you’re getting paranoid.”
“Am I? Geez, I never thought of this, but everybody’s been telling me how many of the Yakuza members are Korean. One of the guys I identified was Korean. Junko’s Korean.”
“Ken, how many Italians do you know?”
I looked at Mariko, puzzled. “I suppose dozens, maybe even hundreds.”
“And how many are members of the Mafia?”
“None that I know of.”
“So why should Junko be a member of the Yakuza just because she’s Korean? You sound like some of the Japanese, classifying Junko as a criminal just because she’s Korean.”
“But there are Italians in the Mafia,” I protested, “And there are Koreans in the Yakuza. She was up to something, and it was something that made her hide when she spotted Sugimoto. You’re the one who’s been having an uneasy time with her.”
“That’s just a little rivalry. But in this situation you’re not sure what’s going on.”
“No, I’m not, but I don’t like it. Sugimoto is supposed to be in Osaka. Junko lies to us about going to bed early. She hides when she sees Sugimoto. Something’s fishy.”
“Sugimoto is the one I’d worry about. He obviously followed us here. You said he’s been against you investigating the swords from the beginning.”
“That’s right. Plus I don’t know who Sugimoto’s companion is. He might be another Yakuza, one I haven’t seen yet.”
“More Yakuza!”
“I have the bruises to remind me that someone is interested in me,” I reminded her.
“I know. I’m sorry, Ken. It’s just that first you think Junko is a Yakuza and now you think Sugimoto is one, too. That Sekiguchi-gummi head said he wasn’t interested in you, and you thought it might be that political group.”
“Maybe I was wrong. I just don’t see the political connection. Sugimoto knew about my encounter with the two Yakuza in Tokyo, even though neither Junko nor I told him. He claims to be a rebel, but he longs for a return to values he considers ‘true’ Japanese, just like a lot of Yakuza. He’s discouraged my investigation of the swords from the start. And now he shows up here unexpectedly and without telling us. All these things leave a lot of unanswered questions.”