lat broke. No matter how much she tore up the apartment, all she could find was some loose change and a few thousand-yen bills in her purse. Kuniko had been staring at the wallet-sized calendar she'd got at Mister Minute for some time, but the longer she stared, the more unavoidable it looked: the due date on her loan from Jumonji. Masako had made a big show of telling him they'd get another loan to pay him, but since then it seemed she'd forgotten all about Kuniko's problems. And what had come of Yayoi's promise to pay her? So far, not one yen. The two of them had forced her to do that horrible thing, had dragged her into their crime, and then left her high and dry. Suddenly furious, she raked the pile of thick fashion magazines off the table in a flurry of glossy print. Then she sat for a while, turning the pages with her toes, lost in the dreamy ads for all her favourite luxury items, Chanel, Gucci, Prada…. shoes, bags, the new fall fashions.

The magazines had been retrieved from the recycling bin. They had food stains here and there, but she didn't mind: at least they were free. Her newspaper subscription had lapsed, and she didn't go out in the car much anymore because she couldn't afford gas. About the only amusements she had left were the soaps and talk shows on TV; so who was she to sniff at someone else's discarded magazines? Not knowing where Tetsuya had gone off to was one thing, but she'd missed a lot of shifts at the factory in August, so her pay cheque had been smaller than usual. No wonder she had no savings. Poverty just wasn't her thing, and the longer it went on, the louder she wanted to scream.

She'd looked through the want-ads with the idea of finding steady daytime work, but she knew those jobs didn't pay enough for her to keep up with her loan payments. Something in the night life, something maybe a little sleazy, would pay much better, yet having no confidence in her own appearance kept her from even considering this. So she had little choice but to stay at the factory, where she could earn a decent hourly wage on the night shift. She seemed to contain two contradictory impulses, like two sides of a coin: a longing to be rich, to dress up and flaunt herself; and a feeling of worthlessness that made her want to curl up in the dark where no one could see her.

Maybe she should just declare bankruptcy. She had toyed with the idea, but if she went ahead with it, she might be cut off from her precious credit cards for life. There was always the old solution of trying to live within her means - but she'd rather die than do that! She had never been much good at delaying gratification of any kind, so what hope did she have now, when the prospect of a big pay-off from Yayoi was dangling there in front of her?

She decided to call Yayoi right away. She'd been wanting to for some time, but the fear that the police might be hanging around had stopped her. Now, she was beyond caring.

'It's me, Kuniko.'

'Oh,' Yayoi murmured. It was clear her call wasn't welcome, but

Kuniko forged ahead.

'The newspapers make it sound like you're in the clear.'

'About what?' Yayoi said. So she was still pretending. Kuniko could hear a cartoon blaring in the background and children's voices. They sounded pretty cheery for kids whose daddy had ended up like Kenji, she thought, her surliness extending even to two little boys.

'Don't play dumb with me,' she said. 'I saw where they arrested that guy who owns the casino.'

'Yes, I guess they did.'

'You guess they did? You don't deserve such dumb luck.'

'But I'm not the only one. I know I shouldn't say this, but if you hadn't left the bags in the park, none of this would ever have come out. Masako was pretty mad.' Yayoi was usually so docile, so easily cowed by bluster, that Kuniko was thrown off balance.

'Well..., ' she sputtered, 'you're a fine one to talk. I'm not the murderer around here.'

Muffling the receiver, Yayoi said, 'What is it you want? Has something happened?'

'Yes, it has. I'm broke! I need money. You said you'd pay me, but when? Could you at least give me some idea of a date?'

'Oh yes. I'm sorry, but I still can't say exactly. It should be in September, if you can wait that long.'

'September...?' Kuniko gulped. 'You're getting it from your parents, aren't you? Why can't you just tell them you need it now?'

'I suppose I could,' she said, still sounding non-committal.

'And can you really give me ¥500,000?'

'That's what I promised.'

'Good,' she said, relieved on that score at least. 'But I'm still in a pinch. Could you let me have ¥50,000 right away?'

'If you can just wait a bit longer... ' Her voice trailed off.

'Then what? Are you getting insurance or something?'

'No, of course not,' Yayoi stammered. 'He didn't have any insurance.'

'Then you're in the same boat as me: no husband and nothing but a part-time job to pay the bills. How do you think you'll get by?'

'To tell the truth, I haven't really thought about it much. I imagine I'll stay here and do the best I can. My mother thinks that's the best plan, at least for now.' This earnest answer to her rhetorical question irritated Kuniko.

'What about your parents?' she said.

'They'll help some, I'm sure. But there's only so much they can do.'

'That's not what Masako told us when she promised you'd pay.'

'I'm sorry,' Yayoi whispered.

'Well, I'm not asking for much. Your dad has a regular job you should be able to get something out of him now.' Desperate to extract whatever she could, Kuniko continued to wheedle, but Yayoi simply repeated that she would have to wait, and eventually, realising that she was wasting the price of the call, Kuniko hung up.

Masako was next. Kuniko saw her every night at the factory, but they hardly said a word to each other. Ever since she'd learned that Masako knew Jumonji, she'd been more than usually wary of her. Despite her money problems, she still somehow associated herself more with the elegant world of her fashion magazines than the back streets where the likes of Masako and Jumonji hung out.

Nevertheless, the due date on the payment was almost up and she had to do something, no matter how risky. She'd already forgotten that a similar attitude had just recently got her involved in Yayoi's mess. She dialled Masako's number.

When Masako answered, there was none of the background noise she'd heard at Yayoi's place. Kuniko wondered what Masako did all by herself in that big, clean house. A chill ran down her spine at the memory of the scene in her bathroom. Did she shower on those tiles that had been splattered with blood? And what did she feel like when she settled into a tub that had held those awful bags? The thought made Masako seem even scarier.

'It's Kuniko... ' she said in a breathy voice.

'Your payment's due, isn't it?' said Masako, dispensing with formalities. Apparently she hadn't forgotten.

'That's right. I'm wondering what I should do.'

'Don't ask me. It's your problem.'

'But didn't you say we'd get another loan to cover this one?' she whined, feeling she'd been misled.

'So go get one,' Masako told her. 'I'm sure you'll find someone dumb enough to lend you more money. Use that to pay off Jumonji and then go find another to pay off that one.'

'How does that solve anything? I'll just be running in circles.'

'What do you think you've been doing?'

'Don't say that! I'm asking you what I should do.'

'You are not. You don't want advice, you want money.' Kuniko winced at her scornful tone of voice.

'Then why don't you let me have some? Yayoi just tells me to wait.'

'I don't have any to lend. When things settle down, I'm sure Yayoi will come through. You'll just have to make do until then.'

'But how?'

'You're young and healthy. You figure it out.'

Kuniko slammed the receiver down. Some day, she'd get back at Masako, figure out how to make her sorry for treating her this way; but at the moment she couldn't think how, and it made her so angry she wanted to spit.

Just then, the intercom rang. Startled, she crouched down, wanting to curl up in a ball and hide, if just for today. She wrapped her arms around her head, breathing hard.

The buzzer rang again. Probably another detective. Worse yet, it could be the same one, that nosy Imai who'd come three weeks ago. She thought she'd managed to avoid telling him anything important, but she hated the way he looked at her. What if he said they had a witness who'd seen a green Golf at Koganei Park? What would she do then? She just couldn't face him again right now. Deciding to pretend she wasn't home, she lowered the volume on the television; but as she was doing this, someone began knocking on the door.

'Jonouchi-san? It's Jumonji from Million Consumers. Are you in there?'

'Yes,' she stammered into the intercom. 'I know the payment's coming up, but I still have a few days, don't I?'

'Of course,' said Jumonji, sounding pleased to have caught her in. 'I actually wanted to talk to you about something else.'

'About what?'

'I guarantee it will be worth your while. Could I come in for a minute?' Kuniko was still wary, but her curiosity got the better of her and she opened the door, to find him standing there holding a box of cakes. She shrank back, conscious of her thick legs in a pair of shorts. He was dressed more casually than usual, in chinos, sunglasses and a loud Hawaiian shirt - birds of paradise on a black background. 'Sorry to bother you like this,' he said, handing her the box, 'but there's something I'd like to discuss with you.' She hesitated, but his smile was beginning to work its magic.

'Come in,' she told him. He peered about curiously before sitting down at the dining-room table while she hurriedly picked up the magazines she'd strewn on the floor.

'Shall we have the cakes?' she suggested, bringing out plates and forks and an almost empty bottle of oolong tea. Then she told a lie. 'If it's about the payment, I'm all set to make it, the day after tomorrow, I think it was?'

'Actually, it has nothing to do with your loan. It's something else, something that's got me very curious.' He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered her one. She nearly pounced on it, having been unable to buy cigarettes lately, and he watched as she lit it and took a long, satisfied drag. 'You're welcome to keep the pack,' he told her.

'Thanks,' she said, putting it down in front of her.

'I get the feeling things are rather difficult for you now.'

'You might say that,' she sighed, no longer bothering to keep up a front. 'I haven't heard from my husband '

'I assumed you'd be heading off to work soon, so I wanted to catch you before you left. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the lady who signed your guarantor's form the other day Yamamoto-san.' Kuniko looked up at him with a start. He was watching her with a good-natured smile. 'I was reading the paper the next morning, and I got a shock when I realised she must be the wife of that guy who was found cut up in the park. And since then there's something that's been bothering me: why would she have signed as your guarantor when she was in the middle of all that?' His speech seemed well rehearsed.

'Because I asked her to. We're friends from the factory.'

'But why didn't you ask Katori-san? She worked at a credit union for more than twenty years, so she knows all about that kind of thing.'

'A credit union?' So that was Masako's secret past. Now that she thought about it, she could just picture her sitting at a computer terminal behind the counter at some two-bit bank.

'What I'd really like to know is why you'd choose Yamamotosan to be a guarantor.'

'Why do you want to know?' The question was natural enough. Jumonji laughed, running his hands through his brown hair.

'Plain curiosity.'

'Because Yamamoto-san is nice. Katori-san isn't - it's as simple as that.'

'And it didn't matter to you that her husband was missing?'

'I didn't know that at the time.'

'It was pretty generous of her to agree, considering what she was going through.'

'Like I said, she's a nice person.'

'Okay. Then why did Katori-san come to get the form back?'

'You've got me,' Kuniko said. He wasn't here out of 'plain curiosity', that much was obvious. Sensing trouble, she began to feel panicky.

'Katori-san must have known the husband was missing,' he suggested, 'and thought it might look bad if her friend's name turned up on the form.'

'No. She thinks I'm an idiot. That's why she went to get it back.'

'It just doesn't add up,' he said, folding his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling, as if he enjoyed playing the detective like this. Kuniko, on her side, was enjoying his company and soon forgot her earlier misgivings.

'I think I'll have a piece of cake,' she said.

'Go ahead, help yourself. This bakery's quite good. I have it on the best authority: a high-school girl.'

'Your girlfriend?' said Kuniko, a hint of coquetry in her voice. Fork poised, she stared into his dark-brown eyes.

'No, no,' he said, rubbing his face to cover mild embarrassment.

'I bet you could have any girl you want, even the young ones.'

'No, no, let's not exaggerate.' Kuniko concentrated on her cake for a moment, having already lost interest in trying to figure out why he'd come. Jumonji glanced at the date on his watch.

'How many payments do you have left on your loan?' he asked suddenly.

'... Eight,' said Kuniko, putting down her fork with a dismayed look.

'Eight payments? A bit more than ¥440,000, all told. I tell you what I'll do: if you tell me everything you know, I'll write off the loan.'

'Write it off?'

'Meaning you won't have to pay it back.' Kuniko pondered this inexplicable proposition for a second, until she realised she had a dollop of whipped cream on her mouth.

'Tell you everything I know about what?' she said, licking her lips.

'About what you ladies did.'

'But we didn't do anything.' She held her fork steady, but inside her head the scale on which she weighed everything in her life, calculating profit and loss, was going haywire.

'Nothing?' Jumonji said. 'Really? You see, I've had my people do some checking. They found out how friendly you are, you and Yamamoto-san and Katori-san, and one other lady, I believe. I'm guessing that the three of you felt sorry for Mrs Yamamoto and decided to help her out.'

'Help her out? No, we didn't do anything.' Kuniko put down her fork.

'You told me yourself that you had some money coming in soon,' he said, smirking. 'Did that have anything to do with this?'

'To do with what?'

'Don't play dumb with me,' he said - exactly what she'd said herself to Yayoi a while ago. 'With the Yamamoto murder.'

'But I read where they arrested that casino owner for that.'

'That's what the newspapers said, but something about the whole thing smells.'

'Smells? Like what?'

'Like a bunch of women helping out a friend.'

'But I told you, nobody helped anybody.'

'Then why did Mrs Yamamoto guarantee your loan at a time like that? Most people wouldn't want to do that even if they didn't have anything else to worry about. Why don't you just tell me, and then you can forget about the payments.'

'And what would you do if I did tell you?' The question slipped out before Kuniko could stop herself. For one second, his eyes shone with the satisfaction of having guessed correctly.

'I wouldn't do anything. I just need to satisfy my curiosity.'

'And if I won't tell you anything?'

'I still won't do anything. You'll just go on making your payments - when was the next one due? The day after tomorrow, wasn't it? Eight more payments of ¥55,200. You can handle that, I'm sure.' I'm sure too, thought Kuniko - that I'm flat broke. She licked her lips, but the whipped cream was gone.

'How can I be sure you'll cancel the loan?' she said. Jumonji opened the briefcase that was resting on his lap and pulled out some papers: Kuniko's promissory note.

'I'll tear this up as soon as we're finished,' he said. Instantly, Kuniko's internal balance tipped in favour of the cancelled loan. If she could wipe out the payments to Jumonji, she could keep all the money she'd be getting from Yayoi for herself. Once she realised this, there was really no other option.

'Okay, I'll tell you.'

'Really? That's great,' he said, laughing a mirthless laugh.

The rest was easy. Kuniko actually enjoyed describing how Masako and Yayoi had forced her to go along with their plan. She would worry about the consequences later, for right now she felt she was getting even with them. She'd never been any good at deferring her pleasures, but for the moment at least she could defer the pain.