The Salaryman's Wife(16)

When it came time to talk price, I made a long face about the missing key while the shop owner argued in favor of the unknown riches inside. But he’d gone through the crate to search for it, gotten his hands dirty, and he wanted a sale to start the New Year correctly. In the end, he agreed to knock a thousand yen off his original quote. I agreed; six thousand yen, approximately fifty dollars, was a pretty decent price for something that old.

Every Japanese restaurant in town appeared to be closed for the holiday, so unless I wanted to eat sushi from a Family Mart convenience store—something I did far too often in Tokyo—I’d have to shell out for a hotel meal. I decided to go for faux Swiss at the Alpenhof, a timbered chalet sparkling with Christmas lights. The restaurant served multicourse dinners heavy on meat that started at thirty-five dollars, so I almost gave up. The maître d’ confided that prices were lower in the bar across the lobby. I elbowed my way in through a mass of skiers getting drunk and singing along with The Pet Shop Boys.

When I noticed Hugh Glendinning in the corner, I wasn’t surprised. This kind of Euro-themed bar was a home away from home for gaijin, the slightly negative name by which foreigners were known. There were no gaijin here outside of us, though, and as I looked closer, I saw Hugh had buried his face in his hands. There were two glasses beside him, both empty. I waited a few beats and as no one appeared to be joining him, I did.





5


“Another Macallan neat,” he said without looking up.

“Alcohol won’t bring her back.” I offered him the pack of tissues I always carried and he tossed it back.

“I’m just thinking. Trying to be alone, if you don’t mind.”

Ignoring him, I sat down and signaled the waitress to bring me a menu. “We’ll both have tea,” I told her firmly in Japanese and went on to order grilled cheese, a rare treat, for myself.

“You’re obnoxious. Has anyone ever told you that?” Hugh muttered.

“Thanks for sending your assistant to stalk me. I almost had a heart attack!”

“Be quiet for a sec,” he said as the waitress returned with a slightly different order: two grilled cheeses, two glasses of whiskey and one cup of lukewarm water with a Lipton’s packet next to it. She was off to the next table before I could protest.

“You may as well try it,” Hugh said, tapping his glass against mine.

I sipped. The whiskey burned and I closed my eyes tightly. Hugh poured in half the water that had come in my teacup.

“Sorry. I forget not everyone is accustomed. Try it again.” After I did, he said, “Yamamoto spoke to me after the fact. I didn’t ask him to bother you.”

“Do you know his theory?” I asked.

“The story about suicide spurred on by financial debt? Rubbish.” So he didn’t believe it, either. Despite my initial impression of him on New Year’s Eve, I was beginning to feel something of a bond. I decided to confide what I’d been thinking for the last few hours.

“If I hadn’t made that scene last night, it might not have happened.” I drank a little more whiskey.

“What scene?” Hugh’s voice was slurred.

“Remember how we were talking in the hallway outside your room? Setsuko came out looking for you. She wanted you to bathe with her. My presence made you say no. Who knows what would have happened if you stayed with her?”

“You’re suggesting I should have taken a bath with her?” Hugh sounded outraged. “What planet are you from? Oh, right, California. Perhaps in your society, married women bathe with their husband’s colleagues all the time.”

“I want the police to get their investigation right,” I said, trying to stay on track. “If you hold something back, it could mean trouble for both of us.”

“But you’re the policeman’s great pal!”

“Hardly. I found the body. People who find bodies are usually the ones who fall under suspicion. As a lawyer, don’t you know that?”

“I’m a solicitor, which means I don’t do criminal defense. Let me reassure you, though, that no one suspects you of any wrongdoing. And as for your supposed culpability, you’ve been reading far too many mysteries, I think.”

“I have little time to read. Actually, all I do is work,” I blazed at him. “For me, this trip—my first in two years—has gone halfway to hell. To you it may be nothing, but I paid a lot to come here and it’s nonrefundable.”

“Whereas in my case, I only lost one of my best friends in Japan.” He looked at me with disgust.

I tried again. “So, ah, what was the basis of this friendship? All I’ve seen and heard is how she served you.”