people participating in a peaceful protest. Che went on to declare that Aunt Norie was a typical example of the Japanese bourgeoisie, unafraid of the human costs of selfish pesticide use. Norie's violence did not frighten him, he said. In fact, he would give his life if it would stop harmful pesticide use.
"He's exaggerating, and he makes my aunt sound like a madwoman! She's not. You've met her," I reminded Mr. Waka. "We came in together when I was buying supplies for my new apartment."
"That's right. She said the food in my take-out section was not fresh, and my household goods were overpriced!"
"I'm sure it was a misunderstanding—"
"Probably not! Should I keep reading? Do you want to hear the official comments from Mr. Kayama?"
"Do you mean Takeo?"
"No, Takeo is only the heir, not the leader of the school. And did you know the meaning of the kanji that spells his name?" Ever the teacher, Mr. Waka showed me the paper.
"Bamboo?" I guessed, looking at the character that was usually one of the first hundred students learned.
"That's right. Apparently the flower family's children all have flower-related names. The sister's name, Natsumi, means 'flower gathering.' And judging from her picture, she is the very flower of young womanhood."
"Mmm," I said. "What is the rest of the article about?"
"The report says that Masanobu Kayama, the sixty-five-year old headmaster of the school, was preparing for a major exhibition at the Mitsutan department store when the incident occurred. In a late evening interview at his penthouse apartment in the Kayama Building, he expressed sorrow at the loss of one of the school's most prominent teachers. Headmaster Kayama said, 'Sakura Sato gave twenty-five years of her life to ikebana and had been awarded riji status, the highest possible teaching certification, two months ago. Her flower arrangements were creative and an inspiration to all, and her thoughtful essays on flower arranging were published in Ikebana International magazine and the Kayama School's semiannual publication, Straight Bamboo. Miss Sato performed demonstrations throughout Japan, England, Australia, and the United States, spreading the school's motto, Truth in Nature, to a global audience. In honor of Sato, members of the Kayama School will plan a special memorial at the Mitsutan exhibition, to be held Friday through Sunday, ten o'clock to eight o'clock daily.'"
Now I had the answer to whether the Kayama School would go on with its exhibition. I was stunned at their merger of practicality and public relations. At the same time, I was intrigued by the fact that Masanobu Kayama had listed Sakura's accomplishments without saying anything nice about her personality. Maybe he hadn't liked her. She could have been a thorn in more than one side.
"So what are you going to do about your situation?" Mr. Waka asked.
"What can I do except pray the police don't arrest my aunt?" I was walking around the store, trying to find something to buy.
"You are an amateur investigator. Surely you can help," my friend insisted.
"I'm an antiques buyer, not an investigator. Oh, you've got sakura mochi." I selected a package of glutinous rice cakes wrapped in fresh green cherry leaves. They'd be good for a business visitor coming that weekend.
"You must help your aunt. It is your filial duty as a niece," Mr. Waka lectured as he rang up my purchase.
I'd thought Mr. Waka didn't like my aunt. Either he was more forgiving than I'd thought, or he was hungry for a continuing stream of gossip. I figured the latter.
* * *
At home I listened to my answering machine. Richard had left instructions on where we should meet for drinks on Friday night. My mother wanted to know why I hadn't telephoned in a month and gave me the number of the estate she was redecorating in Southern California. I dutifully wrote down the number, but I knew that I wouldn't call. If I did, I would wind up having to say something about Aunt Norie's and my trouble, and that
"He's exaggerating, and he makes my aunt sound like a madwoman! She's not. You've met her," I reminded Mr. Waka. "We came in together when I was buying supplies for my new apartment."
"That's right. She said the food in my take-out section was not fresh, and my household goods were overpriced!"
"I'm sure it was a misunderstanding—"
"Probably not! Should I keep reading? Do you want to hear the official comments from Mr. Kayama?"
"Do you mean Takeo?"
"No, Takeo is only the heir, not the leader of the school. And did you know the meaning of the kanji that spells his name?" Ever the teacher, Mr. Waka showed me the paper.
"Bamboo?" I guessed, looking at the character that was usually one of the first hundred students learned.
"That's right. Apparently the flower family's children all have flower-related names. The sister's name, Natsumi, means 'flower gathering.' And judging from her picture, she is the very flower of young womanhood."
"Mmm," I said. "What is the rest of the article about?"
"The report says that Masanobu Kayama, the sixty-five-year old headmaster of the school, was preparing for a major exhibition at the Mitsutan department store when the incident occurred. In a late evening interview at his penthouse apartment in the Kayama Building, he expressed sorrow at the loss of one of the school's most prominent teachers. Headmaster Kayama said, 'Sakura Sato gave twenty-five years of her life to ikebana and had been awarded riji status, the highest possible teaching certification, two months ago. Her flower arrangements were creative and an inspiration to all, and her thoughtful essays on flower arranging were published in Ikebana International magazine and the Kayama School's semiannual publication, Straight Bamboo. Miss Sato performed demonstrations throughout Japan, England, Australia, and the United States, spreading the school's motto, Truth in Nature, to a global audience. In honor of Sato, members of the Kayama School will plan a special memorial at the Mitsutan exhibition, to be held Friday through Sunday, ten o'clock to eight o'clock daily.'"
Now I had the answer to whether the Kayama School would go on with its exhibition. I was stunned at their merger of practicality and public relations. At the same time, I was intrigued by the fact that Masanobu Kayama had listed Sakura's accomplishments without saying anything nice about her personality. Maybe he hadn't liked her. She could have been a thorn in more than one side.
"So what are you going to do about your situation?" Mr. Waka asked.
"What can I do except pray the police don't arrest my aunt?" I was walking around the store, trying to find something to buy.
"You are an amateur investigator. Surely you can help," my friend insisted.
"I'm an antiques buyer, not an investigator. Oh, you've got sakura mochi." I selected a package of glutinous rice cakes wrapped in fresh green cherry leaves. They'd be good for a business visitor coming that weekend.
"You must help your aunt. It is your filial duty as a niece," Mr. Waka lectured as he rang up my purchase.
I'd thought Mr. Waka didn't like my aunt. Either he was more forgiving than I'd thought, or he was hungry for a continuing stream of gossip. I figured the latter.
* * *
At home I listened to my answering machine. Richard had left instructions on where we should meet for drinks on Friday night. My mother wanted to know why I hadn't telephoned in a month and gave me the number of the estate she was redecorating in Southern California. I dutifully wrote down the number, but I knew that I wouldn't call. If I did, I would wind up having to say something about Aunt Norie's and my trouble, and that
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