Strawberry Yellow
Authors: Naomi Hirahara
PRAISE FOR THE MAS ARAI NOVELS
BLOOD HINA
A Hot Picks Selection
by the Hawaii State Public Library System
“Edgar-winner Hirahara once again provides a sensitive insider’s view of the Japanese-American subculture in her fourth Mas Arai mystery.”
—
Publishers Weekly
“Written with heart and depth, and starring an Everyman for our time.”
—
Kirkus Reviews
“Mas Arai is a true original and one of my favorite characters in crime fiction. I love spending time in his world and I’m thrilled that he’s back—and at the top of his grumpy game.”
—S.J. R
OZAN
,
Edgar-winning author of
The Shanghai Moon
“Naomi Hirahara has done it again! It’s wonderful to see reluctant detective Mas Arai back in action.”
—L
ISA
S
EE
,
New York Times
bestselling author of
Snow Flower and the Secret Fan
“
Blood Hina
is even better than Hirahara’s Edgar Award–winning
Snakeskin Shamisen
.”
—D
ENISE
H
AMILTON
,
author of the Eve Diamond series
SNAKESKIN SHAMISEN
Winner of the 2007 Edgar Allan Poe Award
for Best Paperback Original
“Hirahara’s complex and compassionate portrait of a contemporary American subculture enhances her mystery, and vice versa.”
—
Kirkus Reviews
“Hirahara’s well-plotted, wholesome whodunit offers a unique look at L.A.’s Japanese-American community, with enough twists and local flavor to keep you guessing till the end.”
—
Entertainment Weekly
“In an age in which too many books are merely echoes of previous books, Naomi Hirahara has the distinction of writing a mystery series that is unlike any other. As her latest novel,
Snakeskin Shamisen
, proves, she is truly one of a kind. . . . Mas Arai is one of the freshest, most realistic and fascinating characters in the mystery genre. Every book featuring him is a joy to read.”
—D
AVID
J. M
ONTGOMERY
,
Chicago Sun-Times
“A shrewd sense of character and a formidable narrative engine.”
—D
ICK
A
DLER
,
Chicago Tribune
“Hirahara has created in Arai a protagonist who arguably is one of the most unique characters in contemporary mystery fiction. . . . A haunting and compelling work.”
—J
OE
H
ARTLAUB
,
Bookreporter.com
“The cadence of the book is all music and past rhythm; what will be in store for Mas next? I can’t wait.”
—S
ARAH
W
EINMAN
,
Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind
“A winning series.”
—
Seattle Times
GASA-GASA GIRL
“What makes this series unique is its flawed and honorable protagonist. . . . A fascinating insight into a complex and admirable man.”
—
Booklist
(starred review)
“Endearing, quietly dignified Mas, supported by a cast of spirited New Yorkers, as well as the distinctive Japanese-flavored prose, makes this a memorable read.”
—
Publishers Weekly
“[Hirahara] brings heart and elegance to a nifty whodunit.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Compelling grasp of the Japanese American subculture . . . absolutely fascinating.”
—
Asian American Press
SUMMER OF THE BIG BACHI
A
Publishers Weekly
“Best Books of 2004” pick
Named one of “The Ten Best Mysteries and Thrillers of 2004” by the
Chicago Tribune
“Hirahara has a keen eye for the telling detail and an assured sense of character.”
—
Los Angeles Times
“An intriguing mystery [whose] plot and characters are as fresh as a newly mown lawn . . . A unique voice in a genre cluttered with copycats.”
—
Rocky Mountain News
“A seamless and shyly powerful first novel. . . . Peppered with pungent cultural details, crisp prose and credible, fresh descriptions . . . this perfectly balanced gem deserves a wide readership.”
—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)
Learn more about author Naomi Hirahara at
www.naomihirahara.com
.
More Mas Arai Mysteries by Naomi Hirahara
Summer of the Big Bachi
Gasa-Gasa Girl
Snakeskin Shamisen
Blood Hina
Copyright © 2013 by Naomi Hirahara
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Prospect Park Books
969 S. Raymond Avenue
Pasadena, California 91105
prospectparkbooks.com
Distributed by Consortium Book Sales & Distribution
cbsd.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data on file with Library of Congress
For reference only:
Hirahara, Naomi
Strawberry yellow / Naomi Hirahara.
ISBN 978-1-938849-03-9
1. Novelists—Fiction. 2. Mysteries—Fiction. 3. Japanese-American—Fiction. 4. California—Fiction. I. Title.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Designed by Amy Inouye, Future Studio
D
EDICATED TO THE REAL
W
ATSONVILLE
Author’s note
: Watsonville is a real place with real farms and real homes. Mas Arai’s Watsonville, on the other hand, exists in a parallel universe, where the truth ends and the imagination begins. I hope that you enjoy your visit to Mas’s Watsonville in these pages, but if you have an opportunity, go to the real one. It’s a wonderful place.
We’re trapped like rats in a wired cage,
To fret and fume with impotent rage
—A
NONYMOUS
,
excerpt of a poem written in the Poston War Relocation Center
CHAPTER ONE
S
hug Arai didn’t have any shoulders, or at least it looked like he didn’t have any. So when Mas Arai peered into the satin-lined casket to gaze at the body of his second cousin, one of the few relatives that he had in the United States, he was startled to see that someone—most likely the country mortician—had completely stuffed the top of Shug’s suit jacket à la Jack LaLanne. “
Mah—okashii
,” Mas’s late wife, Chizuko, would have exclaimed under her breath if she were there at the viewing at the Watsonville mortuary. Funny looking. She would have been right. Even as a young man, Shug had been stooped over, bicep-free. But whatever was missing from his frame was in his brain. Shug was about the smartest man that Mas had known in both Hiroshima and California.
“I wanted the casket lined with strawberries, but the family wouldn’t hear of it.” A rough-hewn voice boomed behind Mas. “In fact, I thought he should be buried in his strawberry plot.”
The familiar voice belonged to a familiar face. Rectangular like a television set, piercing eyes and thick lips. Deep lines were on the forehead and the hair had thinned out and become the texture and color of fishing line. But Mas still could make the ID. “Oily?” he asked.
“Fifty years later, and I still can pick you out from across the room. Glad you were able to make it.” Oily grabbed Mas’s
head and hugged it to his chest like a pigskin football. Mas normally wouldn’t have tolerated such behavior, but he was back in his birthplace and the town where he spent his early adult years. He’d allow Oily one hug for old time’s sake. But only one.
“Everyone will be here tomorrow. Everyone. Be a mini-reunion of our time in the Stem House. How long did you live in the house, anyway?”
“Three year. But not straight through. I’zu go ova to Texas, pickin’ tomatoes. And San Francisco, schoolboy, before they kick me out.”
“Then you made your way to L.A. You diversified, just like Shug. The rest of us homebodies, we just stayed here.”
Mas couldn’t put himself in the same category as Shug. Mas was a no-good gardener in L.A., while Shug was a famous breeder, the father of new strawberry varieties, informally referred to as Dr. Ichigo, or Dr. Strawberry. Shug was wanted in places, like France and Chile, just for his horticultural expertise. After he circled the world a few times, he had plopped back here in Watsonville, California.
“I was surprised, too, that he decided to retire here. But he told me he had some unfinished business in Watsonville.”
Mas scratched the back of his right ear.
Unfinished business
.
Oily nodded. “Who knows what that meant? Maybe he knew that strawberry yellows was going to hit Watsonville again.”
“
Ya-ro
?”
“Yeah, yellows. A disease as mean as you can get. Stunts the growth of the fruit, for one thing, and also the leaves
start curling up, get spotty and yellow. Worst yet, it spreads all over the place—not only to the second generation, but back even to the mothers. Nasty business. Practically wiped out strawberries in California in the twenties. And now it’s taken up here again.”
Oily was obviously still involved with strawberries, but Mas had heard that he was no longer with Sugarberry, one of the town’s oldest cooperatives.
