The Salaryman's Wife(95)

“Keiko sent a couple of thugs to break Hugh’s legs,” Richard added. “Luckily, they just got the weak ankle.”

A nurse at the main desk had put down her clipboard to stare at us. Perhaps I was so notorious from television that she could recognize me, wig and all. Then I heard someone next to her whisper “Shimura-sensei” and I realized my connection to the hospital heartthrob was the overriding interest.

“Is my cousin taking care of Mr. Glendinning?” I marched up to the desk and didn’t bother with the usual conversational softeners.

“Not at the moment. Endo-sensei is looking after him now, but Shimura-sensei said to page him when you arrived.”

“Will you?”

“We already have.” She gave me a comforting look. I thanked her and shuffled back to Richard and Mariko.

“Have the attackers been caught?” I asked.

“Your cousin advised Hugh not to give a description or press charges, given that it was ya-san,” Richard whispered.

“Brilliant. The one chance we had to get Keiko arrested and tied to Setsuko’s murder is gone.” I put my head in my hands.

“Why do you and Richard keep calling Kiki by the name Keiko?” Mariko interrupted, sounding cross. Richard and I exchanged glances.

“Because they’re the same woman.” I had no time for soft words. I was furious with Mariko for leaving us and causing the resulting chaos.

“No. My mother was a gorgeous person, not a Mama-san!” Mariko shook her head so violently that one of her dreadlocks hit Richard in the mouth.

“You’re right that she was gorgeous,” Richard assured her. “You inherited that part.”

Mariko looked skeptical. I took a deep breath and said, “Setsuko was your mother.”

“That’s not a funny joke, with my aunt dead and everything.”

Feeling sorry about my earlier bluntness, I told her, “Setsuko was very young when you were born—just seventeen. Keiko offered to take care of you, and Setsuko never forgot you. Look at the way she stayed part of your life.”

“But I don’t look like her. I’m so dark…”

“You are beautiful,” I said, and Richard put his arms around her.

“What about my father, then? That story about him going off to work in Australia…”

“We think he was an American war hero who died in Vietnam. We have a photograph, and perhaps a lawyer could help you trace his relatives…”

“I don’t believe in tracing people who don’t want you. And I don’t believe this crap.” A tear slid out of Mariko’s eye, leaving a dark line. She broke out of Richard’s hold and stumbled away, her small, black leather clad frame cutting a crooked path down the glossy gray hallway. A small black starling fallen from her nest, maybe forever.

“Go,” I told Richard, and he did.


Ten minutes later, Tom brought me back to see Hugh, eliminating all rules about relatives-only with a wave of his white-jacketed arm.

“Have the reporters arrived yet?” I whispered.

“No, and they won’t be allowed inside. We’ll protect him using every rule about patient confidentiality. And I’ve alerted security about the possibility of, uh, ya-san.”

Hugh was resting on a gurney that looked a half-foot too short. Tom brought me to the side and drew a privacy curtain around, separating us from the room at large. Together, we watched Hugh breathing easily in sleep. He was nowhere near death, it was clear, although his left leg was elevated in a sling.

“He’ll be here for at least a week,” Tom said.

“For a broken ankle?” I was incredulous.

“It’s the Japanese way,” Tom shrugged. “Believe me, one week is a modest estimate. I’ll try to get him out earlier, but he’s probably safer relaxing here than anywhere.”

“He might still be indicted, so he needs time to prepare with his lawyer. He doesn’t have any time to relax!” I was irritated by Tom’s cheery bedside manner.

“Yes, he was complaining about that before surgery. This is the guy who wanted you to translate the autopsy, I suppose?”

When I nodded, my cousin’s face turned into something resembling Aunt Norie’s when she was unhappy with the quality of vegetables at the farmers market. “So this is the man who was jailed in Shiroyama for a while, returned to Tokyo, and was seen with you in a filthy hostess bar?”

“You watch tabloid television?” I wouldn’t have thought my brainy cousin had the time.

“My mother does.” Tom scowled. “Don’t worry, she won’t call your father. Frankly, she’s ashamed this kind of thing happened when she had responsibility for you.”