The Flower Master (Rei Shimura #3) (14 page)

"Strange things are happening. I wanted to tell you in the car," Takeo muttered. "But taking you out to talk seems impossible."

"What strange things?" I felt a shiver run through me.

"Not so quick. I'll tell you in exchange for information that I need from you." He jerked his head toward the kitchenette. "When are they leaving?"

"They aren't leaving. I mean, Lieutenant Hata's going to have to go back to his office, but my aunt is staying. She thinks that I can't take care of myself. After all, I nearly lost my life."

Takeo looked down at the tatami, and I imagined that my poignant statement had made an impact. But he was only picking up a white rose that had dropped from one of the many vases of get-well flowers.

"I hate these stupid imported flowers, he said quietly. "Compare their blowsy, over-the-top fullness with the simple beauty of the bittersweet I brought for you."

I looked over at the paper-wrapped bundle and saw a few branches extending outward that had tiny yellow flowers. So that was bittersweet. It looked more like a weed than a flower.

Takeo carefully inserted the fallen rose in with its fellow flowers in a vase on the tea table. As he did this, I saw dirt under the fingernails of both hands. It seemed odd for someone of his rank to have gone into a field and cut wildflowers with his own hands. But his hands told the truth.

* * *

"Rei-chan, let's agree that from now on, you will not see Takeo Kayama."

I could hardly believe what I was hearing from the aunt who so desperately wanted me to be married. Ever since Takeo had shot out of the apartment with Lieutenant Hata behind him, my aunt had been on a tear. I should have nothing to do with the Kayamas. Natsumi was a rude girl, and her brother was even worse.

"You don't understand," I said, shutting my eyes against the sight of her angry face. "I'm not interested in Takeo."

"But he's interested in you!" Norie cried. "To have brought you flowers!"

"I don't think so," I demurred. "He's trying to expose me to all those weedy things he believes in."

Lieutenant Hata came back in. He was wet and grumpy, and had been unsuccessful in obtaining an interview. Shaking his head, he said, "I ran behind the Range Rover for two blocks, but he would not stop. Now I'll have to go to the Kayama Kaikan and confront him."

"Can you wait a minute, please? I want to show you something." I smiled at Norie and said, "Obasan, would you bring me the papers in my top desk drawer?"

When I had the list I'd drawn up earlier in hand, I put an asterisk next to the names of the people who had been present both at Sakura's slaying and also at my poisoning at the Mitsutan exhibition. There were only a few names that crossed over both ways: Lila Braithwaite, Natsumi Kayama, Eriko, and Mari Kumamori. I hated to mention Mari's name, given that she'd suffered so much discrimination, but I was trying to be complete.

After quietly reading it, the lieutenant said, "You forgot to list your friend who was just here. He and his sister rode down in the elevator together at the school right after I arrived with the other police. And he just now admitted to being at Mitsutan on Saturday morning. He could have tampered with the sugar."

"Okay, count him in." I felt a bit shaken at the thought of Takeo as a murderer, but Lieutenant Hata was right.

"May I speak?" Aunt Norie asked. "I've been thinking about something the lieutenant said before we were interrupted. If the killer's goal is to disgrace the Kayama School, he or she must be an outsider. There is every chance that an environmental terrorist could have walked into the Kayama Kaikan and Mitsutan to conduct the crimes."

"Environmental activist, not terrorist," I corrected my aunt. "And if you're thinking about outsiders, what about considering members of rival ikebana schools? Wouldn't you say that the Kayama School is competitive with the Sogetsu School? Could one of their people be envious of the Kayamas?"

"What do you know about the Sogetsu School? I thought you didn't like flower arranging." Aunt Norie demanded.

"Obasan, their headmaster is very famous. He made a film in the sixties called
Woman in the Dunes
."

"Still, he's not as artistic as our headmaster!" Norie sniffed.

"Our headmaster is too cold for my taste," I said. "During the critique session, Mr. Kayama smashed up Mari Kumamori's pottery and called it an improvement. I thought that was a terribly cruel thing to do. No wonder Sakura was so mean to her students. She learned from him."

"I also learned directly from Masanobu-sensei. You have seen me teaching classes in my home. Do you believe I'm cruel to students?"

"Of course not. I was just saying—" I cut myself off, realizing that I was on the verge of fighting with my aunt.

Lieutenant Hata cleared his throat. "Ladies, I think we have covered all the necessary business. Miss Shimura, I will examine your suspect list. However, the most important thing you can do is to remember what happened at the Mitsutan exhibit—particularly any people going to and from the refreshments area. You may recall a detail that is important to the investigation."

After he left, I tried to make peace with Aunt Norie. I started by saying, "Please understand that I did not invite Takeo here to see me. But I'm curious what's so wrong with him—in your opinion."

She pressed her lips together. "Rei, he's not the right one for you."

I agree
, I wanted to say, but couldn't, as I recalled the memory of Takeo's lips moving against my ear. He had only come close in order to ensure his words were private, but I'd felt oddly excited.

"Obasan, just forty-five minutes ago you told me you wanted me to get together with a Japanese man from a good family," I reminded her. "I thought you adored the Kayamas."

"As Lieutenant Hata pointed out, he could be the killer! And even if he is innocent, he is bad for you."

"We're acquaintances—not even friends. Actually, at some time I did want to have Takeo over for tea, and I would love for you to be there to get to know him a little better. . ."

"I've known him since he was a baby," Norie said shortly. "I don't need an introduction. Now, how about doing something to take our minds off the Kayamas and their troubles? Let's rearrange the flowers that were sent to us. Don't strain yourself by moving from your chair, Rei-chan. I will set up everything on the tea table in front of you."

Because I didn't own any proper ikebana vases or dishes, Aunt Norie rummaged through the china in my cabinets looking for flat-bottomed bowls that would have enough room for an arrangement. She picked up one of the plates I had taken on consignment from Mrs. Morita.

"The fifth plate doesn't exist," I said, answering the unspoken question. "It's an odd set that I'm hoping to sell. Do you know any likely clients?"

"I'll think about it. Too bad you didn't invest in some ikebana containers. I suppose we could put some flowers in those hibachi." She gestured toward some sizable blue-and-white urns that had been used as charcoal braziers in earlier times. "The daffodils will look handsome against the blue and white pattern, but of course it would wind up being more of a Western arrangement than an Eastern one."

"I try not to use things I hope to sell." I should have saved my breath. She placed the two hibachi in front of me with an extra bowl of water, a pair of scissors, and a kenzan, a small iron weight topped with short spikes that held flowers firmly upright. In the West, a kenzan was called a 'frog,' a name that probably referred to the fact that it sat in water.

"I'm going outside to mail your thank-you notes and to pick up some groceries for supper. With the telephone at your side, you should be safe for a few minutes."

"Yes, yes," I agreed, waving her toward the door.

"Don't answer the door to anyone." With that final warning, she left.

* * *

As soon as my aunt departed, I painfully made my way to the telephone. I took the cordless receiver, and when I was rearranged in cushioned comfort, I dialed Richard Randall at the office.

"It's me. Can you come over and save me from my aunt?" I pleaded.

"Oh, you're finally well enough! When I called to find out why you didn't show up Saturday night, your aunt said you had to go to the hospital because of food poisoning. So what did you eat, pasta primavera past its prime?"

"A tasty spoonful of ant killer. Could you come over right now?"

"I'd love to, Rei, but I can't. I'm running late."

I looked at my watch. "Five o'clock? It's still early."

"I'm supposed to go to the Cherry Blossom Blowout party at Salsa Salsa. Enrique is expecting me. I couldn't possibly cancel." He paused. "We could stop by afterward, maybe bring you their special cocktail to go. It's vodka served on the rocks, and the rocks have cherry blossoms frozen within. Of course, the ice will melt by the time I get to Yanaka, but I could add more vodka if the drink is weak."

"Have you forgotten my stomach already?" I didn't hide my irritation. "The last thing I want is vodka. And I'd really like to talk things over with just
you
."

"Rei, you've going to have to get used to my spending time with Enrique. We're deeply involved."

"Isn't that rather sudden?"

"We just
know
," said Richard, with the infuriatingly smug tone of a man in love.

"So when are you going to introduce him to Lila?" I said, still on the offensive.

Richard lowered his voice. "I don't think she could handle it."

"Richard, she's a pretty sophisticated woman. So sophisticated, in fact, that I've got a few questions about her myself."

"Well, I could stop by, but it couldn't be before midnight. And the trains stop after that, you know, so I'd have to sleep over."

"That won't work," I said grimly. "My aunt is using the spare futon. And even though she knows your orientation, she'd hardly approve of us sharing a bed."

"It sounds as if your apartment has turned into a Catholic-school dormitory," Richard snorted. "I'll try and sneak by sometime. But I'm sorry, I absolutely have to leave for Salsa Salsa now if I'm going to catch the early-bird drinks special."

* * *

My aunt was staying away longer than I'd expected. I made a small arrangement with the roses, and then I managed to limp over to the tansu to retrieve the bouquet of bittersweet that Takeo had brought me. I decided it wasn't as weedy as I'd first thought. The slim branches had plenty of elegant, natural curvature—I did not need to bend them into tortuous angles.

I arranged the branches with the azaleas Mrs. Koda had sent, but their bright, trumpet-like shapes seemed wrong next to the demure bittersweet. I decided to work with the bittersweet alone. Aunt Norie had left my lesson book handy, inspiring me to follow an assignment from the middle of the book, just a few months ahead of schedule. Nobody needed to know.

As the hours went by, my apartment grew dark. I turned on a lamp and wished that I hadn't put away my small portable gas heaters in a fit of confidence about the spring weather. The day's dampness left me positively chilled. I wasn't feeling strong enough to retrieve the heaters from the top shelf of my closet, so I slipped on two sweaters and an extra pair of socks and settled in to watch the nightly news.

The anchorman reported that over the past three days, 150 people had been treated at Tokyo hospitals for alcohol poisoning that occurred during cherry blossom viewing parties. The day's rain would provide a welcome lull in emergency room admissions. The weather was expected to improve the next day, though, and that might bring in a new rash of crashed-out cherry blossom drunks.

Following the news, a game show came on in which the contestants all wore cherry blossom headgear. Feeling bored, I switched to the next channel, which was showing a documentary about cherry tree farming. The camera zoomed into the center of a pale pink flower, revealing a crawling bug of some sort. Disgusting. I switched off the television. I didn't want to see another cherry blossom.

I heard a scraping sound outside my door and thought, At last. I watched the doorknob move and stop. Well, of course. The door was locked. Aunt Norie would have taken the key. Or maybe she'd forgotten?

"Just a minute! I'm coming," I called as loudly as my sore throat would allow. I stood up and began a slow progression toward the vestibule.

There was no affirmative response from the other side. Well, perhaps it was hard to hear my voice against the street noise. In the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor, something white shot under the door toward me. An envelope.

I should have been curious, but I felt dread. Who would send a letter this way instead of putting it in the mailbox? And if the letter was a neighborhood cleanup reminder from Mr. Waka's brother, who was the president of the neighborhood association, he would have rung the doorbell first. Whoever had pushed the note under the door didn't want to have contact.

It took me a long minute to decide whether or not to open the door and look for the person with the note. Taking a deep breath, I did so. Nobody was out there but some schoolgirls on their bicycles, and they were cycling toward my building, not away from it. I closed the door and put the letter on my desk under a bright lamp. Putting on the white gloves I sometimes wore when handling old paper, I used a letter opener to delicately slit the envelope open. I imagined Lieutenant Hata congratulating me on my care as I pulled out a sheet of thin white rice paper patterned with cherry blossom petals. The message was written in three lines in hiragana so it was fairly easy to understand.

Yotte nemu
nadeshiko sakeru
ishi no ue.

I knew that nadeshiko were the flowers known as pinks and sakeru meant "to bloom." The poem was something about sleeping, pink flowers, and rocks. Weird, but the three-line format made the message seem like a possible haiku.

I crawled to my telephone and called Mr. Waka at the Family Mart.

"The strangest thing happened!" he chortled. "Your aunt came to shop in my store."

"Yes, it proves what I said: she doesn't think your food is bad," I reassured.