The Graveyard Apartment (19 page)

“That really is spooky,” Misao said slowly.

“You can say that again.” Eiko looked down at the table. “To tell the truth, I was so scared I couldn't move—like literally paralyzed with fear. And even after I was safely back in the apartment, that feeling wouldn't go away. Ugh, this is such a gray day. Would it be okay to turn on some lights?”

Before Misao had time to reply, Eiko jumped up and went over to the wall switch. The room was immediately flooded with a soft yet vibrant golden light; it illuminated every corner and even cast its glow on a shiny covered picture book of Tamao's that had fallen under the sofa.

Wearing a relieved expression, Eiko returned to her seat at the table and took a noisy slurp of coffee. “Anyway, I was completely freaked out, and I was so antsy after I got home that I finally just had to give you a call. I need to be running along soon, though—I have to go pick up my kids. It looks like it might be going to rain, too. But really, what do you think I heard down there?”

“Hmm, I wonder,” Misao mused, gripping her cup with both hands. Her fingers had grown unnaturally cold, and no matter how tightly she gripped the warm cup she couldn't seem to get their temperature back to normal. She noticed a slight fissure in the rim of the bone china cup.
It's cracked, it's cracked
, she repeated over and over, inside her head. Should she go out one of these days and splurge on a coffee set made from Imari porcelain or something like that? She could imagine Teppei saying, “Hey, we don't have that kind of money to throw around,” but when you are trying to create a pleasant, tidy home, every little detail contributes to the overall impression of loveliness, right down to the everyday tableware.

Misao knew she was making a conscious effort to focus on safe domestic details in order to prevent herself from blurting out her wild hypothesis to Eiko. Namely:
What if the underground hole that was prematurely excavated, decades ago, ran directly under the graveyard and ended up dead-ending (so to speak) at the basement of this apartment building?

Misao remembered what the receptionist at the ward library had said the other day, as a joke: “After all, we aren't mole people, right?” Yes, surely that useless tunnel would have been filled in after the project went bust.

But what if the underground hole never had been refilled? Wasn't it possible that the disappointed developers could have hastily paved over the mouth of the excavation instead, leaving a tunnel-like segment that ran under the cemetery and continued all the way up to the external wall of this building's basement?

Mr. Shoji had moved away, but some of the things he'd said were still resonating in Misao's head: troubling things, like describing the basement as a gathering place for evil entities. She didn't remember his exact words—something like, “I'm no stranger to the dark side, but I've never felt that kind of evil energy before.” Could there be a connection between that unwholesome energy and the part of the underground road or tunnel that might have been left unfilled beneath the graveyard?

“So, um, what's going through your mind right now?” Eiko asked uneasily.

Misao shook her head and said, “Nothing special. I was just thinking how happy I would be if I never had to set foot in that basement again. I don't even want to use the storage locker anymore.”

Eiko nodded. “I know what you mean. I swear, after today I'm never going down there again. No, seriously, I'm not kidding. ‘Spooky' doesn't even begin to describe it,” she declared, looking Misao full in the face. “Really, I wonder whether that basement was the scene of a murder or a suicide or something.”

The way Eiko spoke those words was uncharacteristically solemn, and Misao felt a sudden prickling of goose bumps at the base of her neck.

Eiko evidently had a similar reaction to her own words, because she wrapped both arms around her torso and moaned, “Oh, now I went and said something awful. But even so, you do hear stories about that kind of thing quite often, don't you? Like when they're putting up a new building and they come across human remains. Of course, it isn't uncommon to find old bones during the excavation stage, before they even start construction, but I've also read news stories about people who sneak onto a site right after a building is completed and kill themselves there, for reasons unknown. Naturally, the project's sales agent would never mention such things, so who's to say something like that didn't happen here, too? That would explain a lot.”

The lace curtain covering the big plate-glass window billowed slightly. The wind was kicking up, and a light rain had begun to fall. Misao stood up, walked over to the radio, and turned it on. It seemed as though every time she decided to listen to the radio there was some obnoxious “personality” yammering breathlessly at maximum volume, and this day was no different.

“Hey, lady over there, won't you tell us your name?” the annoying man was bleating. “No? Okay, be that way. Geez, Miss Thing, I see you've slathered on that gaudy red lipstick again today. You look like you've been chewing betel nut or something. Come on, 'fess up. Is your hubby really the only man in your life? Sure, right. Don't make me laugh. Anyhoo, little lady, here's the thing. It's time for a quick quiz. Okay? We're running short on time, so I'm just going to shoot you a question, point-blank. If you get the answer right on the first try, you'll win ten thousand yen. If you get it on the second try, you'll win five thousand yen. And if you don't manage to guess the answer at all, then you'll get the booby prize: a big fat kiss from little old me.”

The sounds of laughter from the studio audience echoed around the room. Eiko let out a giggle. “I swear, that guy says the most idiotic things. And what's the deal with talking in that racy, suggestive way in the middle of the afternoon, when children could be listening? Who does that, anyway?”

“I know,” Misao agreed. “He carries on like this all day, from ten in the morning till four in the afternoon. It's usually unbearable but today, for some reason, I'm in the mood for his kind of foolishness.”

Misao went into the kitchen to heat up the remaining coffee. Cookie was lying on the floor, gnawing on a rubber toy in the shape of a bone. She wagged her tail and gave a friendly yelp of greeting.

“Aww, what a good girl, behaving herself so nicely. Tamao's still asleep, you know,” Misao crooned, bending down to scratch behind the dog's ears.

“I wonder whether we should get a dog, too,” Eiko mused, peering into the kitchen. “Actually, I think I might rather have a lion. Maybe that way I wouldn't feel so frightened all the time.”

Misao took a deep breath as she turned on the gas under the coffeepot.

“You know what? I think you just need to try to forget about what you heard today, and move on,” she said. “I mean, both our families bought units in this building with the intention of living here for quite a while, right?”

The gas flame burst into bloom, vigorous and brilliantly blue. Misao's eye lit on a can of potato chips and she thought of putting them out in a basket, then decided that neither she nor Eiko was likely to touch them. Instead—despite the fact that she rarely smoked—she plucked a couple of cigarettes from a pack of Teppei's that was lying on the counter. By that time the coffee was bubbling again, and Misao carried the carafe and the cigarettes out to the dining table. Silently, Eiko took one of the proffered smokes and the two women lit their cigarettes.

“I'm starting to think that buying an apartment here might have been a huge mistake,” Eiko said, blowing out a long plume of smoke. “Maybe it would have been better just to lease one of the units. That way, we would have been able to move out, like all the other tenants who've left already.”

“Are you saying that you want to move out?”

“I don't know. I'm not sure.” Eiko let out a tired-sounding laugh. “I'm just not good at dealing with this kind of thing.” Misao didn't need to ask for clarification of what Eiko meant by “this kind of thing.” She knew only too well.

Just then the door to the nursery creaked open and Tamao called out, “Mama?”

It was raining harder now. Misao got up and closed the sliding door that opened onto the balcony. She glanced quickly at the graveyard and felt an unreasoning wave of revulsion at the way the rainy mist was rapidly engulfing the graves, obscuring them from sight. As Misao turned away from the window, Tamao came barreling down the hall with her face still swollen from sleep, and leaped into her mother's waiting arms.

 

11

May 17, 1987

Early one evening, Teppei and Tamao were on their way back from taking Cookie out for a run when they encountered Sueo Tabata, who was in the building's lobby polishing the elevator's brushed-metal doors. The nearby entrance to the caretakers' apartment stood open and Sueo's wife, Mitsue, was visible through the lacy door curtain, pacing back and forth in the kitchen.

“Oh, you've been out for a walk?” Sueo asked in a friendly way.

Teppei smiled and said, “You know how it is—when you have a dog, you can never take a day off from exercising.” As he spoke, he bent down and gave Cookie's head a rough pat. Cookie looked up at her master with the eager, invigorated face she always wore after an outing.

Mitsue Tabata slipped into her sandals and emerged into the lobby. Her body language struck Teppei as brisk and resolute, and it was immediately clear that she had come out with a specific aim in mind.

“Hasn't this been a lovely Sunday?” Mitsue began, wiping her damp hands on a blue apron that was already covered with a constellation of grease spots. “Tamao, dear, did you go somewhere with your papa in this nice weather?”

“Yep, we went
waaaay
over there,” Tamao replied, childishly stretching out the vowel in “way” as she pointed toward the front door. She was thirsty after the long walk, and she just wanted to go home as soon as possible and drink some Calpis—her favorite beverage—so her response was more perfunctory than usual.

Mitsue smiled down at Tamao in a way that seemed to make her large-featured face collapse inward on itself. Then she turned her attention to her husband and Teppei, looking from one to the other in a transparent attempt to gauge the expressions on their faces. When Teppei pressed the call button, Mitsue finally spoke up. “Um … er…,” she stammered in a tentative manner.

“Yes?” Teppei turned to look at her.

“No, it's just—I mean, it's something really silly and unimportant,” Mitsue said, showing her teeth in a forced smile.

“What is it?”

“Um, well, it's just that it seemed like something out of the ordinary might have been going on in the basement last night, and we…”

Oh, not the damned basement again
, Teppei thought, but he held his tongue. Mitsue shot a glance at her husband, as if seeking affirmation. Then, having apparently received the go-ahead signal, she launched into her story.

“Anyhow, late last night, maybe around two a.m., I was awakened by sounds coming from the basement. First there was a kind of scraping noise, like somebody whittling away at something, and then I heard some loud crashes that sounded like objects being tossed around. I thought a burglar might have gotten in, so I woke up my husband. Isn't that right, dear?” Mitsue looked at Sueo with a pleading expression, as if asking for backup.

“Yes, that's right. It was an infernal racket,” Sueo said. “We couldn't figure out what was going on, but there were unmistakable banging or thudding sounds coming from down in the basement. I'm telling you, I was shocked. ‘It's a burglar,' I said. ‘We'd better call the police right away!' I was about to dial the number when my better half here stopped me. ‘Don't jump to conclusions,' she said. ‘It could just be one of the tenants tidying up their storage locker.' So instead of calling the police, I went down to the basement to take a look around.”

By that point, Teppei knew, Mr. and Mrs. Yoshino had already moved out, as had the Yada sisters. Mr. Shoji, too, was long gone. Besides the caretakers, the only remaining residents were the Kanos, the Inoues, and the hostess, Ms. Harashima: four households in all. Ms. Harashima's moving date was rapidly approaching, and since she worked late every night it wasn't inconceivable that she might have been down in the basement in the wee hours, obliviously making noise while she got her possessions in order.

Except for one thing
, Teppei thought.
That woman swore to me that she had no intention of ever setting foot in the basement again, for any reason, so it seems highly unlikely that she would have ventured down there alone in the dead of night. Besides, she stopped using her storage locker ages ago, so what would she have been doing there, at any hour?

“So anyhow, I went down to look around,” Sueo repeated with a flustered expression on his face. “And there was nobody there! I thought a cat or some other animal might have gotten in, but there was no sign of life at all.”

“Huh,” Teppei said, shifting Cookie's leash from one hand to the other. “So where do you suppose the noise was coming from?”

“I have no idea,” Mitsue said, shaking her head. “But there were definitely noises coming from downstairs, loud enough to wake us from a sound sleep on the floor above. It wasn't mishearing on our parts, or imagination, or anything like that.”

“What could it have been?” As Teppei stood there, looking baffled, he surprised himself by remembering something he had never expected to think about again: the conversation with Mr. Shoji, several weeks earlier. What had that con man said about the basement? Some nonsense about its being a gathering place for evil entities, or spirits.
Hogwash
, Teppei thought.

When Misao told Teppei about Eiko's uncanny experience the other day—hearing, or thinking she heard, people conversing on the other side of the wall—he had been on the verge of shouting, “Okay, that's it. I've had enough. I'm declaring a permanent moratorium on talking about anything having to do with that stupid basement, starting now.” It was the first time since their wedding day that he had come close to raising his voice at Misao, for any reason.