he factory parking lot appeared to be level but was actually built on a gentle slope. In the dark it was barely noticeable, but at dawn, after a night of exhausting work, the ground sometimes seemed to warp under one's feet. Feeling slightly dizzy now, Masako rested her hands on the roof of the Corolla to steady herself. The metal was covered with drops of condensation from the cool night air, and her palms were instantly wet, as if she'd dipped them in a pool of water. She wiped them on her jeans.

How could he say that? Still, she knew he was serious. Remembering how he had followed her like a lost dog, she turned to look back as she had before, but this time he was gone. She knew he was hurt, and it worried her that he'd recovered the key. But what disturbed her most was the depth of his feelings. She had no need for such emotions any more. She'd left them behind. She understood that she'd chosen her path out of the same sense of isolation that had driven her to help Yayoi.

She had crossed a line that day. She had cut up a man's body and scattered it across the city. And even if she could erase the memory of what she'd done, she could never go back to the way she'd been.

With barely any warning, a wave of nausea rose up in her and she vomited beside the car; but the nausea stayed with her. She dropped to her knees, tears streaming from her eyes, as the yellow bile poured out of her mouth.

***

Wiping her face with a tissue, Masako started the car. Instead of heading home, she turned on to the Shin-Oume Expressway and headed west, in the direction of Lake Sayama. There was no other traffic at this early hour, but she down-shifted and slowed as the road became curvy climbing into the mountains. Except for one old man on a motorbike, she passed nobody at all.

Eventually she came out on a bridge above the dam spanning the valley. Lake Sayama, backed up behind the dam, spread out before her. The land around the lake had been levelled, and the whole area looked artificial, like an alpine Disneyland. She remembered that, as a child, her son had been reduced to tears by the sight of this lake; he'd been convinced that a dinosaur was going to rise up out of the water, and he had pressed his face against her and refused to look. Masako laughed to herself at the memory.

The surface of the lake glinted in the morning sunlight, hurting her tired eyes. Squinting, she turned off toward the UNESCO Village. A few more minutes along the mountain road and the spot came into view. She pulled on to the grassy roadside and stopped the car. Kenji's head was buried in a place she'd found five minutes into the woods from here.

She got out, locked the car, and made her way through the trees. It was obviously dangerous to have come back, but her legs moved automatically, drawing her into the forest. Finding the enormous zelkova tree she'd used as a landmark, she stood beneath it and stared at a patch of ground a few metres away. A small mound of fresh earth was visible in the undergrowth, the only sign of what she'd done. Summer was reaching its peak and the woods smelt of life, richer and fuller even than when she'd been here ten days ago. She pictured Kenji's head turning to pulp in the ground, becoming part of the earth. Becoming food for worms and insects. It was a gruesome thought, but also somehow comforting - she had given the head to the creatures underground.

The light filtering obliquely through the branches hurt her eyes. Shielding them with her hands, she stared for a long time at the mound as that day came back to her.

***

She remembered bringing the head into the woods in search of a place to bury it. She had double-bagged it, but it was so heavy she'd been afraid the bottom would rip out. Juggling a shovel in the other hand had been no mean feat. She'd stopped any number of times to wipe her face with her cotton work gloves, shifting the bag each time to give her arms a rest. And each time she did this, she could feel Kenji's jaw poking into her, making her skin crawl. She shivered now recalling the sensation.

There was a movie she'd seen once, Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia, in which a man was racing across Mexico with a severed head, trying to keep it from rotting in the heat. She could still picture the actor's face, the fury and distress it showed, and it occurred to her that she must have looked much the same as she buried the head here ten days ago. Anger - that was what she'd felt. She had no idea who or what she was angry at, but at least she'd put a name to her emotion. Perhaps, though, she was angry at herself for being so utterly alone that she couldn't get help from anyone else. Perhaps she was furious with herself for rushing headlong into this whole mess. But now she realised that the anger had been liberating, and something had changed in her that morning.

When she emerged from the woods this second time, she sat in her car for a while smoking a cigarette. She would not be coming back here. Stubbing out the butt, she gave a little wave and put the car in gear.

***

Yoshiki and Nobuki had already left for work when she got home. The dirty dishes from the meals they'd eaten, no doubt separately, were left forlornly on the dining-room table. Feeling it was too much trouble to wash them, she stacked the dishes in the sink and then stood in the living room wondering whether to go straight to bed.

There was nothing she needed to do, nothing she needed to figure out; all she wanted was to rest her weary body. It suddenly occurred to her to wonder what Kazuo was doing now. Perhaps he was lying sleepless, tossing and turning in his darkened room. Or maybe he was still walking in endless circles around the grey walls of the car factory. As she pictured him on this solitary circuit, for the first time she felt a certain sympathy for him, a sense of the isolation they shared. She decided she would let him keep the key.

The phone rang. What a bother - it was barely 8.00 a.m. She lit a cigarette and tried to ignore the sound, but it kept on ringing.

'Masako?' a voice said when she answered. It was Yayoi.

'Hi. What's up?'

'I tried phoning earlier but you weren't back yet.'

'I had something to do on the way home.' She decided not to tell her where she'd been.

'Have you seen the morning paper?' Yayoi asked, her voice sounding eager.

'Not yet,' she said, glancing at the newspaper that had been left on the table. Yoshiki always folded it neatly after he read it.

'Take a look,' Yayoi told her. 'You're in for a surprise.'

'What?'

'Just look. I'll wait.' Her tone was urgent but she sounded almost cheerful. Masako put down the receiver and picked up the paper. She found the headline on the third page: 'Suspect Emerges in Koganei Park Dismemberment.' Skimming the article, she gathered that the owner of the casino Kenji had visited that night had been arrested on another charge and was being detained in connection with the case. Masako shivered, a bit nervous that things should be going so well.

'I read it,' she said, still holding the paper as she picked up the phone.

'We're pretty lucky, don't you think?'

'It's a bit early to start celebrating,' said Masako, conveying a note of caution.

'Who would have imagined it could all work out so neatly? The paper said they'd been fighting, but I already knew that.' Yayoi was apparently alone now, so she could speak freely.

'How did you know?'

'He had a cut on his lip when he came home, and his shirt was dirty. I wondered at the time whether he'd been in a fight.'

'I didn't notice anything,' Masako said, but she was aware that Yayoi was talking about a living person while she was referring to a corpse. At any rate, Yayoi didn't seem to be listening.

'I wonder if he'll get the death penalty.' Her voice was almost dreamy.

'I wouldn't count on it,' Masako told her. 'More than likely he'll be out soon for lack of evidence.'

'A shame, isn't it,' Yayoi murmured.

'Don't say that!'

'But he had another club, the one where Kenji fell for that slut.'

'And that makes him guilty of murder?!'

'I'm not saying that,' Yayoi protested. 'But he's hardly innocent.'

'Maybe you should ask yourself why your husband would fall in love with another woman,' Masako said, finishing her cigarette. The comment just slipped out, perhaps because of what had happened with Kazuo, and she wasn't really expecting an answer.

'Because he was bored with me,' Yayoi said flatly. 'I was no longer attractive to him.'

'You really think so?' Masako felt she would actually like to have asked Kenji this question were he still able to give an answer. If there was a reason why people were attracted to one another, she wished someone would tell her.

'But sometimes I think he could have been looking for a way to get back at me.'

'For what? I always thought you were the model wife.' There was a pause as Yayoi seemed to consider this.

'That's exactly what he hated,' she said at last.

'Why?'

'I suppose a woman becomes boring when she's good.'

'But why?' Masako repeated, as if lost in thought.

Yayoi sounded suddenly angry. 'I'm not sure myself - you'd have to ask Kenji.'

'I guess you're right,' Masako muttered, startled out of her daze by her tone of voice.

'What's got into you today?' Yayoi asked. 'You're not yourself.'

'I'm just tired.'

'Of course you are,' she said apologetically. 'Since I've started sleeping nights again, I've forgotten what it's like. How's the Skipper?'

'She wasn't there last night. Kuniko either. I think we're all exhausted.'

'From what?' Masako said nothing. 'Sorry. It's my fault, isn't it?... Oh! I've been meaning to tell you that I'll be getting all Kenji's insurance, so I'll be able to give them plenty.'

'How much?' Masako blurted out, caught off guard. 'A million each. Is that enough?'

'It's too much. Five hundred thousand each for the Skipper and Kuniko is ample. If I had my way, Kuniko wouldn't get a penny.'

'But won't they be mad? Especially since I'm getting fifty million.'

There's no need to mention the insurance at all. Just hand them the money and leave it at that. But I wonder if you could give me two million instead?'

'Of course..., ' Yayoi said, sounding startled, since Masako had said all along she didn't want to be paid. 'But what made you change your mind?'

'I've decided I need to have some money of my own, just in case. I'd really appreciate it.'

'Of course,' she repeated. 'I owe you such a lot. How could I refuse?'

'Thanks,' said Masako. As she hung up the phone, she had a sense that she was emerging from her funk and might be able to fight her way through this after all. The police had a suspect, but there was no way of telling whether he was thought to be the right man; it was certainly too soon to assume they were in the clear. Still, a slight sense of relief helped her fall quickly asleep.