The Salaryman's Wife(118)

“I always wondered,” Rod said. “I always wondered why he looked at Oriental women on the street, right in front of my mom like she wasn’t even there.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

There was another pause, and then Rod gave me a fax number. “You send me that letter. I’ll go in tonight to wait for it.”

“You will?”

“But if there are people out there making claims to his estate, tell them to forget about it. He’s got nothing, he recognizes nobody else in his will other than me and Marshall—”

“Nobody’s trying to sue anyone,” I said. “It might be the case that Setsuko was blackmailing him. Knowing what I do about her, that wouldn’t be surprising at all. Your father could be a victim of sorts—”

“Don’t patronize me, okay? Send the goddamn letter, and I’ll tell you what I think.”


I buried my face in my hands after it was over. What a screw-up I’d made of things. Roderick Evans had been so injured, so naked in his outrage. He couldn’t have had enough cunning to fly to Japan and kill Setsuko. I’d hit another roadblock.

I picked up the phone again and dialed the St. Luke’s number I now knew by heart.

“Room four-twenty-three, please,” I said.

“That room is unoccupied,” the operator told me.

“Did Mr. Glendinning change rooms again? This is Rei Shimura calling.”

“Oh, the cousin of Shimura-sensei! Don’t you know Mr. Glendinning is not here anymore? He left against doctor’s advice with a friend.”

“A friend?” I panicked, thinking how dangerous Yamamoto had become.

“Yes. He left with a woman in the early morning hours,” the receptionist confided. “The charge nurse was furious about it! This lady must have helped him down the stairway and out the front. By then it was too late to do anything.”

“Was the woman foreign or Japanese?”

“Gaijin. Shimura-sensei noticed her often during visiting hours. A blond woman in a long black and white gown and a fur coat.”

“Thank you very much,” I said, starting to hang up.

“Anytime, Shimura-san, and your cousin wants to know if you’ll be stopping in today? He’s working the afternoon shift and wants to see you.”

“Tell him I’ll try to come in.” I would have to make a major apology for my last outburst if I wanted to remain part of the Shimura family.

“Since the photographers aren’t outside anymore, visiting will be a lot more convenient for you!” the receptionist chirped, and even I had to laugh.


I kept my eyes out for stalkers on the way to Family Mart. When I made it inside, I made a silent, thankful prayer.

“A great picture today.” Mr. Waka held up the Yomiuri Shimbun with the page folded back to show a photograph of me being handed into the taxi by Joe the previous evening.

“Rei no ka rei sa,” Mr. Waka said. It was another play on the many meanings of my name—this time, it meant something like Rei’s beauty.

“No doubt an attempt at satire. What does the story say?” I scrabbled for change in my pocket to photocopy the envelope and letter.

“Well, it says you are very much a girl of adventure. You had an accident at the train station yesterday? Please be more careful. And there’s plenty of talk about your escort, Mr. Joe Roncolotta, the elderly Tokyo businessman. The journalist believes he bought the dress you were wearing because a teacher surely couldn’t afford it. There is mention of Mr. Roncolotta’s deceased Japanese wife and the various ladies he has known since that time—he is sixty-two years old! Frankly, I don’t think it’s a good idea!”

“Nothing’s going on,” I soothed, but he didn’t look happier.

“What about poor Mr. Glendinning waiting in the hospital room alone? Popular opinion has turned in his favor. People are feeling sorry for him now that you are going out with many men.”

“He’s not in the hospital anymore. He left with another woman. You’ll read about it if tomorrow is another slow news day.” I looked at the page in my hands, trying to determine if it was clear enough to fax through to America, Then my eyes lit on the moldy envelope.

“Do you want me to read the article to you?” Mr. Waka prodded. “Or the latest survey on Mr. Glendinning’s image?”

“Wait a minute.” I needed to hold on to the idea that was beginning to emerge. Why hadn’t I seen it before?

“What are you looking at?” Waka-san came out from behind his cauldron of oden and looked over my shoulder. “A letter from America?”

“This letter is addressed in care of the post office in Kawasaki.”