Love at first sight is often cured by a second look.
Love is sweet when it’s new, but sweeter when it’s true.
ePub
A4Chapter 2
S
he opened the calendar on her phone and placed it on the table so hercompanion 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.
