Gasa-Gasa Girl by Naomi Hirahara Page A

Knudsen.”
    The cabdriver jumped out of the taxi to open the door for Mari and the baby. Mas was also ready to get inside, but as he leaned into the car, he met Mari’s icy stare.
    “Let him come, Mari,” Lloyd said.
    She said nothing, and then moved far enough down the backseat to allow a place for Mas.

    T he hospital was all brick and about eight stories tall. It reminded Mas of an old-fashioned hotel, like the Biltmore back in downtown Los Angeles, more than any kind of medical facility. Even the admitting area resembled a hotel lobby, with shiny tile floors, an expansive counter, and a couple of plastic plants on both sides. The emergency room, however, was nothing unusual, aside from the fact that they had a special section for children. The nurses admitted Takeo in no time flat, but told Mari that she would have to go to the waiting room with Lloyd and Mas on the third floor.
    In the elevator, Mari flinched when Lloyd tried to put his arm on her shoulder. Her bony arms were folded tightly across her chest—the upper half of her body looked like a human clothes hanger, ready to poke anyone, perhaps Mas especially, in the eye at any minute. Mas couldn’t blame her. It had taken the nurse a few tries to pry Takeo away from her arms.
    The third-floor waiting room also resembled a fancy hotel. Fake plants were everywhere, as if the real kind would cause deadly allergies and rashes. Mas understood the hospital’s need for artificial plants. Real plants needed gardeners to take care of them, and here the priority was to make sure people, rather than ivy or ficus trees, stayed alive.
    They made themselves comfortable on couches and easy chairs arranged in a square. Mas opted for one of the chairs, while Mari and Lloyd sat on different couches facing each other. Mas was grateful for his Juicy Fruit chewing gum. After offering some to Mari and Lloyd, he stuffed five pieces in his mouth at one time. In spite of the sugar intake, he dozed off for a few minutes before hearing Mari ask in a sharp tone, “What are you doing here?”
    It was that detective again, Ghigo, wearing the same black jacket and badge. Pretty low class to come at a time like this, thought Mas.
    “Your neighbor, Mrs. Knudsen, told me you’d be here.” He took a seat on a couch next to Lloyd.
    “Can’t this wait, Detective? Our son’s not doing so well.” The more time Mas spent with the son-in-law, the more he had to admit he liked him. Lloyd was quiet for a
hakujin
, but he also knew when to speak up.
    “No, Mr. Jensen, this can’t wait. You see, we checked your credit card activity, and the records show that a hotel stay was charged to your card, Mrs. Jensen. A hotel in Midtown, checkout at eight this morning. Curious that you could be in Midtown Manhattan when you told us that you all were in Park Slope.”
    “We had a family situation.” Mari’s arms remained crossed.
    “Would you like to elaborate?”
    “Not really. It’s a private matter.”
    Mas sucked on his wad of gum, which now felt like a wet rag in his mouth.
    “Well, I have to disagree, Mrs. Jensen. It’s now a police matter.”
    Mari jutted out her chin. Mas knew that she was close to attack mode.
    Ghigo turned his attention to Lloyd on the couch. “Hadn’t you had an argument with the deceased just two days ago?”
    Mari’s eyebrows pinched together as she stared at Lloyd. “Who told you that?” she demanded of Ghigo.
    “Never mind who told us. Is it true?”
    “It was nothing out of the usual. I was just telling him that we needed to alter our business practices,” said Lloyd. “We’re changing into a nonprofit, and we can’t operate like a private enterprise. I was just telling him we should diversify our vendors; look for different suppliers of plants, equipment, fertilizer.”
    “Did he want to end the project?”
    “He was always saying that. But he really didn’t mean it. He just needed me to reassure him that everything was going to turn out all