her pretty badly in class and at practice. Something’s sure to be going on. Mika would know how they feel, but we don’t know if she told her mother or your sister.”
Kenji set his empty glass on the table and shut down the laptop. The clock on the wall read 7:45.
“Don’t do anything for the time being,” Kenji said. “There’s nothing you can do anyway.” He closed the laptop and sighed as he packed it away. “At least the school is taking action. I’d tell her grandmother not to worry. Tell her parents too.”
“Her mother’s divorced. It’s just her and Mika.”
Kenji looked pained. “I see. Well, what’s the mother like? Would this kind of thing bother her?”
“Takako Sonoi? No, she’s not the type. She has bigger stones than the average guy. She’s good at what she does, I hear. Work keeps her busy.”
“So why don’t you tell her about your work? Tell her Kumar can help. We don’t have an official channel for this kind of thing, but we consult for people who’re having problems with unofficial school sites.”
“Maybe that’d just complicate things.”
“Schools protect themselves in cases like this. You can’t just assume they’ll be on Mika’s side. What her mother needs is someone who can give her useful advice, kind of like a lawyer.”
Kenji hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. “Listen, Kotaro. Don’t try to handle this yourself. Neither of us has enough experience. Okay?”
“Sure, okay.”
Walking back to work, Kotaro felt a great weight on his shoulders.
Fresh news on the murder in Mishima was waiting when he got back to his desk. Now he knew why the first reports hadn’t mentioned the victim’s gender. The corpse, which was missing the third toe of the right foot, was that of a transsexual woman. The victim had undergone breast augmentation surgery.
4
“Wouldn’t you like to take a short walk?”
Toshiko bent down to close the little dust window that faced the balcony. This floor-level fixture was a sign of how old the apartment was. The south-facing balcony was flooded with sunlight. Newly hung laundry swayed gently in the breeze.
“It’s too cold.”
Shigenori Tsuzuki sat on the sofa in front of the television, clipping his toenails. A sheet of newspaper spread over the faux wood floor caught the clippings. The breeze that blew in when Toshiko opened the dust window had caught the paper and scattered some of the fresh clippings.
“Well, it’s December. Of course it’s cold. But the weather’s so nice today.” Toshiko looked up into the cobalt-blue winter sky and squinted against the sunlight.
The five-story apartment building had stood for thirty years in this quiet corner of Shinjuku’s Wakaba district. The Tsuzukis’ apartment, on the southeast corner of the third floor, looked out over an elementary school and a small park. The couple had always loved the southern exposure and fresh breezes.
“The doctor said you ought to be walking as long as it doesn’t tire you. It’s good for the circulation in your legs.”
“Not today.” Shigenori pushed his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Is it bothering you much?”
“It hurts even to stand and brush my teeth.”
Toshiko sighed. “Then you’d better not lean forward like that to trim your toenails. I can do it for you.”
Yeah, that would be great, Shigenori thought. Just like a doddering old basket case. I’m only sixty-three.
“Well, I’m going shopping. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to do that for you first?”
“I’ll do it myself.”
“What would you like for lunch?”
“Anything.”
“What about dinner?”
“No special requests.”
“Requests that aren’t special are the hardest to deal with,” muttered Toshiko. Shigenori heard her putting her arms into her coat sleeves, then the front door opening and closing behind her.
The two-hour news shows every morning at eight mostly covered celebrity scandals. It was almost ten now, but the program
Kenji set his empty glass on the table and shut down the laptop. The clock on the wall read 7:45.
“Don’t do anything for the time being,” Kenji said. “There’s nothing you can do anyway.” He closed the laptop and sighed as he packed it away. “At least the school is taking action. I’d tell her grandmother not to worry. Tell her parents too.”
“Her mother’s divorced. It’s just her and Mika.”
Kenji looked pained. “I see. Well, what’s the mother like? Would this kind of thing bother her?”
“Takako Sonoi? No, she’s not the type. She has bigger stones than the average guy. She’s good at what she does, I hear. Work keeps her busy.”
“So why don’t you tell her about your work? Tell her Kumar can help. We don’t have an official channel for this kind of thing, but we consult for people who’re having problems with unofficial school sites.”
“Maybe that’d just complicate things.”
“Schools protect themselves in cases like this. You can’t just assume they’ll be on Mika’s side. What her mother needs is someone who can give her useful advice, kind of like a lawyer.”
Kenji hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. “Listen, Kotaro. Don’t try to handle this yourself. Neither of us has enough experience. Okay?”
“Sure, okay.”
Walking back to work, Kotaro felt a great weight on his shoulders.
Fresh news on the murder in Mishima was waiting when he got back to his desk. Now he knew why the first reports hadn’t mentioned the victim’s gender. The corpse, which was missing the third toe of the right foot, was that of a transsexual woman. The victim had undergone breast augmentation surgery.
4
“Wouldn’t you like to take a short walk?”
Toshiko bent down to close the little dust window that faced the balcony. This floor-level fixture was a sign of how old the apartment was. The south-facing balcony was flooded with sunlight. Newly hung laundry swayed gently in the breeze.
“It’s too cold.”
Shigenori Tsuzuki sat on the sofa in front of the television, clipping his toenails. A sheet of newspaper spread over the faux wood floor caught the clippings. The breeze that blew in when Toshiko opened the dust window had caught the paper and scattered some of the fresh clippings.
“Well, it’s December. Of course it’s cold. But the weather’s so nice today.” Toshiko looked up into the cobalt-blue winter sky and squinted against the sunlight.
The five-story apartment building had stood for thirty years in this quiet corner of Shinjuku’s Wakaba district. The Tsuzukis’ apartment, on the southeast corner of the third floor, looked out over an elementary school and a small park. The couple had always loved the southern exposure and fresh breezes.
“The doctor said you ought to be walking as long as it doesn’t tire you. It’s good for the circulation in your legs.”
“Not today.” Shigenori pushed his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Is it bothering you much?”
“It hurts even to stand and brush my teeth.”
Toshiko sighed. “Then you’d better not lean forward like that to trim your toenails. I can do it for you.”
Yeah, that would be great, Shigenori thought. Just like a doddering old basket case. I’m only sixty-three.
“Well, I’m going shopping. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to do that for you first?”
“I’ll do it myself.”
“What would you like for lunch?”
“Anything.”
“What about dinner?”
“No special requests.”
“Requests that aren’t special are the hardest to deal with,” muttered Toshiko. Shigenori heard her putting her arms into her coat sleeves, then the front door opening and closing behind her.
The two-hour news shows every morning at eight mostly covered celebrity scandals. It was almost ten now, but the program
Similar Books
