he opened the calendar on her phone and placed it on the table so her

companion could also see the screen.

“The anniversary of his death falls on the third Wednesday of next

month. What would you say to the Saturday or the Sunday before that?

Timing-wise, that would work for me,” Tokiko said, pointing to the relevant

days on the screen. She got no reply. Glancing up, she realized that the

attention of the other person was focused somewhere else entirely;

somewhere behind her.

“Mr. Kaga?” Tokiko said his name. Kaga lifted his hand, in a gesture

telling her to stop. He maintained his focus behind her, his eyes glinting

keenly.

Tokiko took a discreet look over her shoulder. Seated a couple of

tables away was an old woman wearing glasses, busy fiddling with her

phone. They looked like reading glasses.

Kyoichiro Kaga got to his feet and strode over to her. He said hello

and the two of them chatted briefly in low voices. Kaga then returned to

Tokiko’s table.

“What’s the problem?”

“Nothing major.” Kaga took a sip of his coffee. “I noticed her

borrowing a pen from the waitress earlier.”

“So?”

“She was in the middle of a conversation on her cell phone when she

borrowed the pen and jotted something down on her paper napkin. After she

finished the call, I saw her looking at whatever she’d written down and doing something on her phone. I thought, ‘Uh-oh, is this what I think it

is?’”

“Which is what?”

“That someone had called to tell her their new phone number. I asked

and, sure enough, that was the case. It was her grandson, a university

student. I told her to try the old number before replacing it with the new

one.”

“Because you think…?”

“That’s right,” Kaga said. “I thought it might be a scam. It’s a common

enough technique. The scammers start off by getting you to change one of

the numbers in your contact list and then call you back the next day. Since

it’s the grandson’s name that pops up on the screen, the recipient is primed

to think that that is who’s really calling.”

The old woman came bustling over.

“That was a close call. You were right. When I called the old number,

my grandson picked up. He hasn’t lost his phone and he hasn’t changed his

number either. And his voice was quite different too. I so nearly got taken

in.”

“That’s good to hear. Why don’t you register that new number under

the name scam. If it rings again, whatever you do, don’t pick up. Go as

quick as you can to the nearest police station and file a report.”

“I’ll do that. You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.” The old woman bobbed

her head up and down in gratitude, before making for the cash register by

the door.

Kaga grinned as he sipped his coffee. The stern gleam had gone from

his eyes.

“You’ve got a real nose for crime,” Tokiko commented.

“What, like a dog?”

“That’s not what I said. But it must be exhausting to keep an eye out

all the time like that.”

“It’s what they call professional deformation—a condition for which,

sadly, there is no cure.” Kaga put his coffee cup down and looked at the

phone on the table. “Sorry about that. Shall we pick up where we left off?”

Tokiko repeated her suggestion about the dates. Kaga looked

uncomfortable.

“I’ve a hunch I’m going to be busy next month. I’d prefer another

day.”

“How about the Saturday of the week before, then? I can probably

work something out.”

“No,” Kaga said baldly. “This month and next, we’ve a lot going on at

the station. The middle of the month after next would be best for me.”

Startled, Tokiko scrutinized his well-chiseled face.

“No way. No way we can hold the memorial service after the actual

anniversary.”

“I really don’t think I can make the time for it, though. The police

station I work at covers a wide area and we’re short-staffed. The cases are

piling up.”

“Why not have a word with your boss and get transferred back to

Nerima Police Station?”

“Well,” Kaga said, scratching his eyebrow distractedly. “It’s hardly

like I was at loose ends at Nerima either.”

Tokiko sighed.

“Look, I know you’re busy. I know cases come in suddenly. That’s not

going to change just because we wait another month. You’re just

procrastinating—and you know you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I’m doing my best to be constructive here, so just do

what I tell you to. We’ll have the memorial service for your father on the

second Saturday of next month, starting at eleven in the morning. You’re

happy with that, right? You’ll let me arrange everything?”

Kaga furrowed his brow and sank into thought.

Tokiko smacked the tabletop. “Mr. Kaga!”

He jerked upright with a start. “Calm down.”

“I need a clear answer from you. You’re okay with my plan?”

Kaga was in the process of agreeing—albeit with every sign of

reluctance—when something started buzzing in the inside pocket of his

jacket. “Sorry,” he said, pulling out his cell phone and walking off.

Resisting the urge to cluck her tongue disapprovingly, Tokiko reached

for her cup of tea. She glanced at her watch as she did so. It was already

after nine p.m. She had made her way to this café after having finished her

shift at the hospital and having dinner at a restaurant she liked. Kaga, who

worked out of the nearby Nihonbashi Precinct, had told her he wouldn’t be

available until late.

He was pale when he came back to the table.

“Sorry. Something urgent’s come up,” Kaga said, rather shamefacedly.

“You’re going back to work now? That’s got to be against the Labor

Standards Act!”

She meant it as a joke, but Kaga didn’t smile.

“An emergency. There’s been an incident very near here. I’ve got to

get going.”

Seeing the serious look in his eyes, Tokiko realized that now wasn’t

the moment for levity.

“Okay, then, what shall we do about this?” Tokiko pointed at the

calendar on her cell phone.

For a second or two Kaga looked unsure, then he nodded his head.

“Let’s go with the day you just suggested. You can take care of

everything. But—” Kaga fixed his eyes on Tokiko and ran his tongue over

his lips. “I can’t promise that I’ll be able to make it.”

Tokiko bristled and glared up at him.

“Sorry, but I need you to promise you’ll be there. No ifs or buts.”

Kaga grimaced. Tokiko’s face softened when she noticed his

discomfiture.

“Oh, I give up. Your dead father would probably urge you to put your

work first too.”

Kaga scratched his head in embarrassment. “I’ll try my best,” he said.

On the sidewalk outside the café, Kaga raised his arm and hailed a

taxi. “You take this one,” he said, gesturing to Tokiko. She shook her head.

“The train’s fine for me. You take it, Mr. Kaga.”

“Sure? All right. Have a safe trip home.”

“Don’t overdo it.”

Kaga nodded, smiling as he sprang into the back of the cab. His face

reverted to that of a detective when he gave the driver his desired

destination. The taxi moved off. As it drove past, Kaga smiled at Tokiko

again. His smile was different this time; it felt forced.

Watching the taxi drive off, Tokiko thought about the day, two years

ago, that Takamasa Kaga, Kaga’s father, had died. As the nurse in charge,

she had been at his bedside.

Kaga, who was the only child, showed up only after Takamasa had

breathed his last. Takamasa’s sister and nephew were the sole members of

the family there when the old man died. And it wasn’t that Kaga couldn’t

get there in time; he made a deliberate choice to stay away. It wasn’t just

that one occasion either; Kaga had barely visited his father the whole time

he was in the hospital. Even if you weren’t family, it was hard not to see

him as callous, uncaring, and unfilial. His cousin and his aunt were very

displeased.

Tokiko, however, knew that Kaga was far from unfeeling. In his heart,

he was more upset than anyone at his father’s approaching end and hoped

that the old man would be able to leave life with as much dignity as

possible. At the same time, he was not someone who expressed his feelings

openly. Only in the emails he sent Tokiko from time to time could one get a

glimpse of what he really felt.

Tokiko made up her mind to attend Takamasa’s funeral, which was

held three days after his death. Most of the mourners seemed to be

colleagues from the police force. Seeing the reverence with which they

contemplated the photograph of the dead man, she got a sense of how

highly his colleagues regarded him.

Kaga did a good job of representing the mourning family. Standing off

to the side with his cousins, he watched attentively as the participants filed

up to offer incense to the deceased. When Tokiko walked past the family,

she saw his lips form the words, “Thank you.”

A year after Takamasa’s death, she sent Kaga an email inquiring about

the one-year anniversary. His reply was almost instantaneous. He said

something to the effect that he had no time and had done nothing to mark

the anniversary. His tone gave her the impression that he hadn’t even been

to visit his father’s grave.

Tokiko sent a follow-up email. This time she suggested that they pay a

visit to the grave together. She even proposed some specific dates.

As she read his reply, Tokiko pictured Kaga with an expression of

mild bewilderment. He was at least making some effort to respond. Tokiko

promptly decided on a schedule, which she sent back to him.

He must think that I’m a complete busybody. Tokiko didn’t really

know why this whole thing was weighing so heavily on her. As a nurse,

she’d watched patients die before. There were people she’d looked after for

years and with whom she’d developed an almost familial bond, but she

always made a point of trying not to get too emotionally involved when

they died. With this particular father-and-son pair, however, she found

herself unable to forget about them. She felt a duty to do something.

She and Kaga visited Takamasa’s grave on the agreed day. This was

indeed the first time Kaga had been there since the interment, and Tokiko

was shocked that Kaga’s cousins were more frequent visitors than he was.

“I just don’t think it’s what my dad would want. He’s more like, ‘Here

I am in this nice quiet place, so why won’t you just leave me alone?’” Kaga

said in a flat voice as he looked at the gravestone. Shooting him a sideways

glance, Tokiko felt she should say something to him, she just didn’t know

quite what—it was frustrating.

After that, they continued to exchange emails on other subjects, and

Tokiko always signed off with the same question: “Have you visited your

father’s grave?” Although Kaga was quite good about replying, he never

answered that particular question.

Now another anniversary was fast approaching. Tokiko mailed Kaga

to ask what his plans were this time around. True to form, he said that he

had yet to plan anything.

He absolutely must observe the second-year anniversary, she replied.

She would be happy to help out if he was busy. “As the son, it’s your duty

to provide an opportunity for people to remember your father,” she wrote.

Her tone was quite sharp.

Kaga had called her a couple of days ago. His aunt and cousins were

also making a fuss, so he had decided to mark the second anniversary after

all. Would she really help out with it?

Of course she would, Tokiko immediately replied. Something that had

stalled for two years finally seemed to be moving forward.