‘Oh, not Chief Matsuoka. His wife, Ikue. She said you visited their apartment?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Right. Anyway, she didn’t seem to think the calls were from Ayumi either. She said she hadn’t been sure, about what you’d told her.’
Word had spread around the female officers’ network. Mikami began to feel irked. When people started to talk without involving himself or Minako he couldn’t help doubting their good intentions, regardless of any apparent sincerity.
‘I asked around a bit . . . and it turns out almost everyone’s had a call at some point. They had one at the chief’s family home, too, only a couple of months back.’
‘Huh.’
‘Would you try talking to her again?’
‘Sure.’
‘If she insists the calls were from Ayumi after you’ve talked it through, well, it’s probably best just to go with it. The worst thing would be for her to feel isolated. Just say it was my idea – tell her I’m a meddling gossip, something like that. Whatever happens, she needs to believe you’re on her side.’
Mikami reconsidered his frustration, but it was still hard just to say yes. Mizuki was helping more than most sisters would.
‘Mikami? Are you still there?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Are you angry?’
‘Why would I be?’
‘Are you sure? Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested anything in the first place . . .’
‘Don’t worry about it. Minako makes her own decisions.’
‘What do you mean?’
He clicked his tongue, frustrated at having to answer yet another question. ‘Just that she’s not the type to let herself get swayed by anything you or I say.’
‘I don’t think that’s true for you. She believes in you from the bottom of her heart. You should be more confident in yourself.’
He didn’t like the sound of what she was saying. Was she planning to talk about a Minako he didn’t know, out here among the directors’ housing block?
‘Okay, thanks for letting me know. I have to—’
‘Wait. Oh, no, this won’t do. You sound like you’ve given up completely. Are you sure the two of you aren’t fighting? Is it because of me?’
‘It’s nothing to do with that, like I said.’
‘But . . .’
‘We’re just not on the same level. The truth is, I can never tell what she’s thinking.’
‘Since Ayumi ran away, you mean?’
‘No. Right from the beginning.’
Mikami wondered if he’d accidentally imparted something he hadn’t meant to. Mizuki fell silent, sighing before she spoke again.
‘In that case, I’ll tell you how she feels.’
‘There’s no need.’
‘I’m telling you. I couldn’t stand it, not for you two to come unstuck when you most need to be there for each other. You can’t let that happen, not even a little bit. Especially if you haven’t communicated properly in the past.’
‘Look, I was a detective. I didn’t have the time to—’
‘You know that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s no use throwing up a smokescreen, Mikami, I know what it is you’re worried about. We all know everyone was surprised when the two of you got married. They said it was one of the prefecture’s seven great wonders. I mean, you were in the same station, but not for long, and it wasn’t as though you worked together – she was in Traffic, you were in Criminal Investigations. The other men were genuinely amazed. All wondering what you’d done to get a girl like that. But the thing is, you don’t know what you did either. I’m right about this, aren’t I?’
Mikami felt his chest tighten.
‘I’m going to tell you what you did. When you were there, in that station together—’
‘You needn’t bother.’
‘Just hear me out, okay? One day, she went through a bad experience, and spent the whole night crying. But she didn’t drag the problem to work – you know how seriously she took being a policewoman. She put her feelings to one side, did her make-up and dragged herself, smiling, back into work. She greeted everyone normally, carrying on with her work as though nothing had happened. She took lunch with her workmates, chatting away without showing any signs of being down. So nobody noticed. Then, when she was on her way home, she happened to bump into you outside the side entrance. You gave her a funny look and said, ‘Are you okay?’ That was all you said. That was when she started to take notice of you. She said she gave you a road-safety charm not too long after that.’
Mikami could only remember fragments. ‘That was just . . .’ he said without thinking. ‘That was just a wild guess. I probably just said it to get her attention, either that or I’m some kind of clairvoyant.’
‘This isn’t something to joke about. This is where you ask me the reason she spent the whole night crying, right?’
Mikami started coughing. ‘That’s enough, just stop,’ he finally managed.
‘No, it’s not enough. I can’t stop now I’ve said this much and broken my promise, anyway. What’s the point otherwise? And listen, it’s not what you’re thinking. But it’s not something you’d put in a wedding speech either. One of her friends committed suicide. A high-school friend, from the same year; they’d been in the calligraphy club together. The people in the club were close and continued to meet after they all moved on from the school. Anyway, the girl who killed herself did so leaving behind a scribbled note on her desk. “Don’t tell Minako.” That was all it said.’
‘Don’t tell Minako? That she was dead?’
‘Minako wondered if the message had been intended to keep her from going to the funeral. It really frightened the girl’s parents. They called Minako on the phone, asking if something had happened between them. But there hadn’t been anything, nothing at all. Minako had been busy, so they hadn’t even seen each other for a while. Yet the fact remained that she’d been mentioned by name. Her friend had died and left instructions to keep her in the dark – and she didn’t find out until the day of the wake. She still went, you know. It must have been torture. She told me she felt like an intruder the whole time. As though she’d been denied permission to grieve, even though she was suffering at having lost a friend. She left to go back to her dorm room without staying for the final rites; that was when she finally started crying.’
Mizuki’s rapid-fire voice broke off.
‘Did they find out the reason for the suicide? Had she left anything else?’