The Moving Blade Page 8

  “I want to go to the bank, talk to a lawyer. I want to find his speech and the manuscripts of his books.”

  “I read a book of your father’s on US-Japan relations when I was in college. I forgot all about it until I heard his name again.”

  “Did you study politics?”

  “I studied history before I transferred to the States for accounting.”

  “That’s a big switch.”

  “It was long ago. In America, I got lost between two languages, two cultures, two everything.”

  “I always felt Japanese there, but I feel American here. It’s like I have two identities arguing with each other in my head. Two passports. I’m supposed to choose one, but I’ve kept both.” Jamie looked up at the ceiling, sucking in a deep breath. She stared at the grill, but after several sniffles trying to keep it all inside, tears coursed down her cheeks. “I would’ve loved to talk to my dad, sitting here, together.”

  Hiroshi, wondering how to soothe an aching he knew himself, handed her his handkerchief.

  Jamie put it to her face, then held it away. “Oh, this smells like fish.”

  “Oh, sorry. From when you fell.” He signaled to the waiter for another oshibori, started to stuff the handkerchief back into his pocket, then set it on the counter. The waiter set another hot towel down. Jamie unrolled it and wiped her face and eyes. Hiroshi waited as she calmed down.

  “You know, you don’t seem like a cop,” Jamie said.

  “You don’t seem like, um, actually, what do you do?”

  Jamie shrugged. “I work in human resources at UNICEF.” “Sounds interesting. And important.”

  “Does it? It bores me to tears,” Jamie said, and tears started again. “Different tears,” she said wiping her face, sniffling. “Most days, it feels like inhuman resources. Everyone is always telling me Asians are more empathetic blah blah blah, so human resources is perfect for me, but I’m not sure it is.”

  “You don’t hate it, do you?”

  “No, but I don’t love it, either. It is what it is.”

  “What about life outside work?”

  “New York’s great. I loved shopping, but I couldn’t keep up with my rich friends.”

  “Try living on detective pay.”

  “Is it low?”

  “I track down embezzlers, scammers and cheats who make millions, illegally, while I get paid a pittance.”

  “My pay’s less than a pittance and it’s boring.” Jamie downed the last half of her beer in one go. The waiter looked to see if she wanted a refill, and Hiroshi motioned for another.

  “I’ll stay a few days and get his stuff pulled together. But, would you help?” she asked in a small voice. “I don’t know how to—”

  “Of course,” Hiroshi said. “I can go with you to the archives.”

  The waiter reached over the top of their heads to the grill chef for their orders of grilled chicken breast ribboned with plum sauce, browned scallops with wasabi, and pearl onions flaked with seaweed, two skewers each set neatly on their own rectangular plates—turquoise, sea-green or grey-black. Hiroshi arranged them on the counter.

  Jamie sipped her beer and blinked her eyes. “It was stupid not to come before. Now, it’s stupid not to stay.”

  Chapter 11

  The next morning was fresh and bright and the city busy and crowded as Jamie settled into the taxi beside Trey. She apologized as the grogginess took over and she yawned wide and loud.

  Trey smiled his TV smile and patted her arm. “I know about jet lag, don’t worry.”

  Jamie sucked in a huge breath to stifle the next yawn, and said, “My mother gave me these sleeping pills. They work too well. My body doesn’t know what time it is.”

  “If I knew you were sleeping, I wouldn’t have kept pressing the bell. But with yesterday’s events, I got worried. There should have been someone there.” Trey’s tanned face dimpled whether he smiled or frowned.

  “There was a detective here when I went to sleep last night.”

  “Maybe it’d be better to stay somewhere else.”

  “I’m better there,” Jamie said. “Anyway, this sounds exciting. Does she speak English? I’m regretting how much I let my Japanese slip.”

  “She went to school in America. She’s the third generation of her family to get elected, but the first woman. Strong in foreign affairs. Might even be in the next Cabinet.”

  “It’s nice of you to take me to meet her, but why?”

  “You’ll see,” Trey said, humming to himself.

  The taxi drove south on the expressway along the Sumida River before crossing a bridge into central Tokyo. Traffic was just heavy enough to slow them down. As they pulled further into the city, the Imperial Palace came into view opposite a row of office buildings.

  Jamie straightened to get a look at it. “My father used to ask me what I imagined it was like inside.”

  “The Imperial Palace? Impressive, isn’t it?” Trey glanced at it and then at Jamie, then looked at the meter.

  Jamie knew the imperial family still lived there, in sealed-off areas, but she could sort of remember, as if watching some official NHK video, the sweeping white walls and a beautifully sculpted garden. She and her father had climbed up the stone foundations of something, maybe the original castle that burned down, him telling her stories the whole time. Jamie looked out the back window as they went past and then settled in for the rest of the ride.

  When they got out in front of the Diet building, Jamie instinctively took a few steps towards a circle of protesters carrying signs in front of the wide, stone steps. Trey walked towards the office building, but Jamie stayed where she was, watching the protesters quietly circling with signs held high. Policemen in riot gear lined each side of the crowd, watching indifferently.

  “What do the signs say?” Jamie asked.

  Trey frowned. “Some are against nuclear power. Others against the bases.”

  “The American bases?” Jamie eyed the slow-circling crowd. It was composed mainly of elderly people, dressed in thick winter parkas and colorful hats.

  “I’m all for free speech, but the US-Japan alliance is the gyroscope of Asia.” Trey directed them up the steps towards the large, brass doors.

  Jamie stopped at the bottom of the steps trying to decipher the signs. “That one says ‘3.11.’ The earthquake, tsunami and nuclear plant meltdown, right?”

  “The Japanese nuclear power company failed to do its job. Worst thing you can do in Japan. On top of that, the cleanup’s costing billions. Still, I don’t know what the protestors think, the radioactivity will clean itself up?” Trey shook his head and walked a few steps higher.

  “My father said Japanese were apathetic.”

  “Next week’s conference has them stirred up. But if they think they can change the status quo that easily, they’re in fantasyland.”

  “The right fantasy maybe.” Jamie yawned again, shaking her head and breathing deeply before following Trey up the steps and inside the spacious, Western-style building.

  At the front sign-in area, Trey spoke to the guard in Japanese and he waved them through the metal detector. The arched ceilings and marble walls spoke power all through the corridor. An elevator operator in white gloves pushed the button for the ninth floor on a gleaming brass panel. In the upper-floor hallway, their footsteps echoed in the emptiness until Trey stopped and pulled open the large oak door of Shinobu Katsumura’s office. Her secretary stood up with a polite bow and ushered them into the inner office.

  Low lighting veiled the room, but the silver and gold lettering still sparkled on the sides of legal tomes lining wall-to-wall shelves. The room was too warm, and the air a bit stale even with the high ceiling. It brought back all of Jamie’s drowsiness and she blinked to keep her eyes open as Shinobu Katsumura, Lower House Diet Member, got up from her computer chair in the alcove and walked towards them.

  “Welcome!” Shinobu’s voice carried across the room. Under her stylish maroon jacket, a black turtlen
eck and pencil skirt clung to her petite figure. Her hair fell from a side part in clipped, curved layers and her eyebrows, plucked at a sharp angle, steepened when she took Jamie’s hand with the ease of someone used to campaigning face to face. Shinobu said, “Please accept my deepest condolences.”

  Jamie nodded and smiled her thanks. She followed Shinobu’s lead towards soft leather chairs circling a low table in the middle of the room. Jamie sat down and Shinobu folded her legs at a prim angle under her skirt as she spoke. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am in person. Your father succeeded in brokering agreements, drafting treaties, resolving disputes. We’ll miss his steady hand and sage advice.”

  “Thank you,” Jamie said, looking down.

  The secretary carried in three cups of green tea, which she placed on the table between them, along with a small pot with steam escaping from the spout.

  “You know, at every reception, gala or dinner, everyone gravitated to your father. He always pulled people to him, discussing culture, politics, art, history.”

  “I keep hearing things like that,” Jamie said.

  “My father—who also knew him during his years as a Diet Member—told me your father secured the foundation for democracy in Asia. He respected that deeply.”

  “I’m sure many others, like your father, contributed as well.” Jamie scrambled for polite replies.

  Shinobu smiled. “You’re just as humble as he was.” Shinobu cocked her head, her small lips curving gently to a smile, then reverting to a thin line in the middle of her delicate features. She seemed to be considering every word and spoke English fluently.

  Jamie shifted in her chair, unsure how to read the compliments. She brought the teacup to her lips, but it was too hot, so she cradled it uncomfortably in her fingers for a few seconds, and then set it back down. “I’m happy to hear all this about my father. I just wish—”

  “Some wishes—” Shinobu looked away. “My father passed away recently, too, so I know what you must be feeling. The funeral formalities, the unpleasant practicalities, the memories and regrets. No time for the grieving and reflection you really need,” Shinobu said.

  “Yes, that’s it exactly.” Jamie looked down at her teacup, wondering when it would be cool enough to attempt drinking again.

  Shinobu paused in her presentation to let Jamie take a moment.

  Trey sat on the soft leather watching the two women.

  When Jamie looked up again, Shinobu said, “I want to publish your father’s writings. One of my uncles runs a publishing house. I know this is out of the blue, but I wanted to show my appreciation. It’s a small thing, but something.” She folded her long, slender fingers around her teacup and took a sip.

  Jamie leaned back wondering why Trey didn’t say this before. “I’m not sure exactly, but I think he has a publisher already. Setsuko, I mean, a friend of his, told me something, but I wasn’t listening carefully.”

  “My uncle’s press would be able to reward you at a higher rate than anyone else. That’s part of the reason I wanted to talk to you so soon. I know you need time to process, but I didn’t want this opportunity to pass.”

  “I’d have to check. I don’t know where any of his work is either.”

  Shinobu sat forward. “You wouldn’t need to do anything but give us an OK. Trey could oversee the details. He would check with you on major decisions and move forward with the day-to-day. We can work out terms with the smaller publisher if need be. Happens all the time. They’ll be amply compensated.”

  Trey leaned forward. “All you have to do is give us your OK.”

  “And my father’s manuscripts,” Jamie added.

  Shinobu’s plucked eyebrows arched to a “V.”

  Trey cleared his throat. “I’d like to look through all your father’s writing to get the full scope.”

  “I really have no idea what he was writing. I haven’t seen any of it yet, but I’d like to read it first.”

  Shinobu gave Jamie a smile that would have pleased her constituents. “Of course, of course! I’m sure, though, that much of it is probably ready to publish now, so it would be best if Trey could get started right away.”

  Shinobu leaned forward to pour more tea, though Jamie had not drunk any. Jamie watched her fluid delicate movements, which reminded her of a tea ceremony with older women in kimono—graceful, calming and practiced.

  Trey smiled. “This project would take a lot of work, considering the range of his expertise, but that’s the pleasure too. And like Shinobu said, they would give you full rights, take care of any other contracts he might have, and do this right.”

  Jamie thought for a minute, and said, “I could move forward on this. I mean, why not?”

  “I was hoping you might say that. My uncle prepared a letter of agreement.” Shinobu walked to her desk with ballet-like precision, returning with a contract, in Japanese, on a leather clipboard folder. “This is just a basic letter of intent. I’ll get you a copy in English later. This just says we can get started.”

  Trey leaned forward. “It’s the biggest honor you could give your father.”

  Jamie scooted to the edge of the soft leather chair, looked at the Japanese document, and signed it. She set the heavy pen down on the table and closed her eyes to dampen the dizzy surge of fatigue inside her, wondering if it was from jet lag, grief or those pills?

  Shinobu placed the letter of agreement inside the leather folder.

  Trey said, “This will be a great project.”

  “Let’s get started right away,” Shinobu said, standing by the side of Jamie’s chair.

  “No time like the present.” Trey slapped his thighs and stood up.

  Jamie looked back and forth as she stood up, wondering why they didn’t say anything more about the project. Like with the autopsy and the funeral, there seemed to be little explanation in Japan. Everyone was supposed to know exactly what to do and stay quiet if they didn’t. Everything happened below the surface, which is where Jamie had always felt the weakest. “You’ll send me an English copy?”

  “I’ll have Trey bring it to you.” Shinobu smiled and took Jamie’s arm as they walked towards the door. “So, where did your father keep all his manuscripts?”

  There was something in her voice, but Jamie was too jet lagged to figure out what. “They must be somewhere,” Jamie said. “But the detectives need to look through them. That’s what you meant, wasn’t it? To publish after the murder investigation is finished?”

  “Of course,” Trey reassured her, taking Jamie’s elbow.

  Shinobu’s campaign smile stayed fixed in place as she led Jamie to the door.

  Chapter 12

  Trey and Jamie walked slowly across a large intersection in Ginza. Multicolored signs with store names in Japanese, French and English rose gently along the buildings, their lights shining into the darkness overhead. Clusters of salarymen and slowly strolling couples spoke in drunken or hushed tones about where to go next. Jamie felt comfortable inside the glowing, humming lattice of wide sidewalks and straight streets.

  Trey paused at a busy corner and turned to Jamie. “I’d like to take you to another of your father’s favorite places, just for a nightcap?”

  “Jet lag is calling me home.” Jamie resisted the urge to yawn again. She’d yawned so many times at dinner, the chef made a joke about it in the restaurant Trey took her to, a sushi-sashimi place so exclusive, they had their own chef right across the counter for just the two of them. He recommended fish and prepared them one by one, setting them down beside large blocks of ice that kept them cool for the few seconds they enjoyed their appearance before popping them in their mouths. She tried to see the bill, but Trey made sure she couldn’t. It must have cost a fortune.

  “We hardly saw anything of Ginza.” Trey motioned towards the lights of Ginza. “At least a walk?”

  “It’s a bit cold and I’ve got to get some sleep.” Jamie pushed her hair back and let it fall over her shoulders, making no move towards the subway e
ntrance. “Did you go out with him often?”

  “Your father? I’ll miss him.” Trey put his hand on her arm, his touch filled with sympathy.

  Jamie looked away at the sparkle of lights. “My father said all American cities look like Ginza. Even when we weren’t in touch, my father’s words were with me somehow.”

  Trey kept his hand on her arm, his strong hand trying to comfort her.

  Jamie said, “Shinobu seemed anxious to get going. I hope I didn’t sound rude.”

  “She’s enthusiastic about this project. Before next week, we at least need a press release about the books.”

  “Next week?”

  “This year with all the protests about renewing the agreements and the nuclear stuff, everyone’s paying attention. Shinobu wanted your father’s book out as a gift, to him, and now to you. Let’s get his ideas into the public debate.”

  “That’s why she’s in a hurry?” Jamie wasn’t sure she was reading anything right. She felt another surge of tears and wiped her eyes. “I think the jet lag is making me emotional.”

  “You’re lucky. It makes most people brain dead.”

  Jamie laughed. “It’s doing that too.”

  “Do you have time tomorrow?” Trey asked.

  “I’ve got to do tomorrow what I didn’t do today. Go to the archives, the bank, the lawyer.”

  “Can I see you home? It’s easy to get lost in Tokyo.”

  “This orange subway goes right there, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, the Ginza Line. I don’t mind riding with you.”

  “I’m fine,” Jamie said, putting her hand over his.

  Trey kept his eyes on hers, but Jamie dropped his gaze and looked around at the lights shivering in the cold. Tokyo seemed a good place to be as the grief worked itself out. She could sink into her bad feelings and get through them. She felt warmed by two nights in a row with two handsome men. Maybe they were just feeling sorry for her, but the dinners helped.

  Trey patted her arm. “I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

  On tiptoe, Jamie gave Trey a kiss on the cheek, looked once more into his light blue eyes and then started towards the subway. At the top of the stairs, she turned back to see Trey disappearing into the crowd talking on his cellphone.