The Kizuna Coast: A Rei Shimura Mystery (Rei Shimura Mysteries Book 11) (29 page)

“It’s nice the children are allowed to look for things outside,” I said to Mrs. Haneda. “It keeps them active. I heard somebody found Miki’s school bag and returned it to her.”

“Yes, she was excited to have Totoro back—but not her math book,” Mrs. Tanaka added with a laugh.

Miki was in a circle of three girls, all with neatly brushed hair that spoke of the good care they were still receiving amidst chaos. Their heads were bent over what looked like a rough dollhouse they’d made from parts of cardboard boxes. Each girl had a figure in her hand and seemed intent on finding the best place for it in the cardboard home.

“The mouse sleeps downstairs in the kitchen,” Miki, always the organizer, said to her companions. “Keiko, you can put the old man upstairs in the
ofuro
. He will have a long bath because he got cold from the tsunami. And Mariko, use your handkerchief to make a bed for the little lady. She’s just glad to be back in her own place, where there’s peace and quiet.”

Play therapy, I thought. A psychiatrist like my father might say that Miki was processing her trauma. But as I bent closer, still unobserved, I found myself stunned at the sight of the mouse Miki was twisting back and forth in her hand.

The mouse was made from wood, exquisitely carved with tiny ears, and a long tail that wrapped around his form. He was a stunningly polished deep gray color; a finish so smooth it looked like lacquer. Very old lacquer.

“Miki,” I said, squinting hard at the object in her hand. “May I see your mouse?”

“Of course.” She tossed it up to me and I caught it with trembling hands. I ran my fingers over the smooth little carved figurine, which was not a toy. It was an
inro
. Attached was a red silk cord that ran to a clasp shaped like a tiny kitten. This was the lacquer artist’s humorous touch: making a mouse
inro
that was too big for the kitten to catch.

But I’d caught the joke—and also the realization—that these two exquisite items might be a piece of lacquer. As I turned the mouse over in my hand, the lacquer seemed to shimmer, and not just from the patina of age. It was a beacon of something that I realized might be the truth.

“D
id you find more any more pretty toys like this?” I was striving to sound relaxed, when all I wanted to do was jump up and down. After all, Mayumi had saved the lacquer; she’d got it back from wherever Daigo had brought it.

“Yes. In there.” Miki pointed to a black leather backpack. “There are all kinds of toys in there. Nothing was wet or dirty. You can play, if you like.”

I looked inside the bag and caught my breath. Numerous pieces of shining lacquer: among them a black
netsuke-inro
set decorated with lucky golden cranes, and a red lacquer box with a beautiful lady on it, and another set ornamented with a gold-leaf grasshopper. These were all things I remembered Mr. Ishida mentioning, and more. “I think I know whose toys these are. Oh, this is just wonderful.”

“We have to give them back?” whined Miki.

Reaching out to stroke Miki’s hair, I said, “I know the owners. I’m sure they will be very grateful to you for finding their precious treasures. Where was this backpack?”

Miki frowned, still clearly disappointed. “I don’t know. I didn’t find it. Keiko did.”

Keiko looked at me nervously. “We were near the old Family Mart. It was in a pile of stuff outside there.”

“Did you dig very far down in the pile?” I asked, looking at the Coach backpack, which appeared rather clean.

“No. We had to climb up to get it. The backpack was right there, lying on top.”

“Why don’t you play a few more minutes, but carefully?” I wanted to be fair so the girls didn’t come to equate telling the truth to adults with automatic loss.

“Oh, there’s your
gaijin
husband. I think he’s looking for you,” Miki said.

“What a beautiful house you’ve made,” Michael said in Japanese when he’d reached us and saw what the girls were doing.

“Yes, but Rei-san says we have to give back the animals who had just moved in.” Miki sighed dramatically, and then added, “However, if we make the rooms a little bigger, my Totoro could fit.”

“Yes, and my
daruma
doll,” Keiko said.

“Don’t forget about Pikachu,” the third girl chimed in.

As the girls carried on playing, I opened my hand to show Michael the mouse
inro
in it. But his eyes didn’t widen until I opened the backpack that was full of even more lacquer pieces still wrapped in tissue.

“Unbelievable,” Michael said in English. “Could it be the Kimura family’s lacquerware?”

“This is a Coach brand backpack just like the one Mr. Ishida says Mayumi owned, and what’s inside fits his description of the lacquer collection. Apparently the girls found it atop a heap of trash.”

“Have you checked for anything else in the backpack?”

“Let’s do it together.”

Michael slipped his hand in and explored. Eventually he came out with a lavender wand-style lip gloss. “A Shiseido brand luminizing lip gloss in a color called Cool. Aside from this, there’s nothing.”

“I know it was Mayumi’s backpack.” I lowered my voice and added, “The best part of removing it from a trash heap means we’ll never have to negotiate for it with gangsters or Mr. Morioka. For all they know, it was lost in the tsunami.”

“That’s right,” Michael said. “These are lost family possession that have been found and are being returned.”

Miki’s friend Keiko was the one who’d picked up the backpack. She was the saddest about giving up the animals and insects. She slumped down, not looking as I carefully rewrapped everything she’d found. I talked to her parents about what was going on, so they didn’t think we were stealing.

“Please take it. How wonderful that you know the owners!” Keiko’s mother said. “This is a good experience for the children. It will give them the belief that others will bring back their own toys when they are found.”

“Here you go, Keiko,” Michael said in Japanese. She blinked as he pulled a supersized American Snickers bar out of the pocket of his windbreaker. Then he whipped out the pocketknife he always carried in the front pocket of his jeans and cut it into thirds for the girls.

Not as good as the toy animals, but it sweetened the parting.

An hour later I was in the kitchen, dropping noodles in the stockpot. As service began, I stood over it with a ladle. Dishing out bowl afer bowl of miso-carrot-onion
ramen
, I pondered the incredible luck of Miki’s invitation to see the dollhouse. If Michael and I had refused and gone straight to chat with Mr. Morioka, we would have missed the girls playing with the lacquer animals.

After dinner was cleaned up, Michael caught up on his e-mails, and I sat nearby, placing a call to announce the find to Mr. Ishida.

“Are you sure it is the Kimuras’ lacquer?” he pressed. “Almost every Japanese household has some lacquer treasures.”

I gave him exact descriptions of all the pieces. At the end, I added, “And I know they’re very old. There’s a patina and clear evidence the pigments are natural, not synthetic.”

“That sounds correct. However, I don’t know why anyone would put such spectacular antiquities in a trash heap.”

“A volunteer must have found the backpack and thrown it on, not knowing what was within,” I said. “I asked during the dinner hour if anyone remembered finding a clean Coach backpack and transferring it to the heap, but nobody had.”

“In any case, it’s great news. The question is what will you do next?”

“My priority is to get the lacquer back to her parents. Michael’s already arranged direct transportation through a military contact to their shop in their village, Kinugasa, tomorrow morning. If I’m back in time that afternoon, I’ll visit Miki’s father in the hospital with her. Michael and I hope to do some volunteer work for Helping Hands the day after that… and then it’s back to Tokyo.”

“I hope you’ll have some time to relax a bit. How many days have you been in Japan?”

I counted backward. “Twelve. I’m really down to the end of my allotted leave. I should go back on Tuesday. My boss is expecting me to come back soon—”

“Yes, you’ve told me about Mr. Pierce. He sounds like a kind man, though.”

“He is. But I don’t want to take too much advantage of that kindness.”

After one night back on the hard floor, all the restorative therapy of sleeping in real beds was undone. My back ached, and I knew that I was moving like an elderly woman. Michael rubbed my spine as we sat together on a bench outside the shelter. The sparkling morning light showed that yellow asters had sprung up next to the rubble heaps. They hadn’t been there last week. Despite the earth’s crack-up, it was still shooting out spring flowers.

Michael took his hands off me to look at his watch. “The jeep should be here soon.”

“Okay. You know, we haven’t talked about what we’re going to say to the Kimuras.” I put my face in my hands. “Imagine this. You’re grieving the loss of a child who’d caused a great upset in the family by stealing its heritage. The treasure comes back. Do you really want to know the specifics about the treasure’s return? Or would you rather believe it was your child’s final gesture?”

Michael sighed. “I’d never want to hear lies.”

“Here’s how I plan to do it,” I said. “When we get to the shop, I’ll apologize for disturbing them and immediately present the backpack with the lacquer. After they’ve happily accepted it, I’ll tell them it was found on the street in Sugihama. Then I’ll say that we visited Mayumi’s apartment and removed her possessions to the custody of Mr. Ishida. I’ll finish up by saying that we’ll mail them home, if they want that. But I don’t know what I should say beyond that.”

“I don’t either.”

The jeep came at last; it was a half hour after the time Michael had been promised, and the driver, an American southerner, was flustered. “Sorry, sir, I got stuck behind a supply convoy. But the road to Kinugasa is not that bad. I went past there yesterday. I think we can get there in an hour.”

Sir?
I mouthed silently at Michael, who shrugged. The soldier’s tone made me think he believed Michael was still an officer. With his marine haircut and crisp blue anorak worn over a polo shirt and jeans, he had a kind of bearing that wasn’t exactly civilian. I’d gone for the upscale folk-arts shopper look, wearing indigo skinny jeans and a white silk blouse with my green boiled-wool jacket. I’d tied a multicolored
shibori-
patterned silk scarf around my neck. The only thing marring my appearance was the gauze nose-and-mouth mask that I felt was necessary to keep from vomiting at the smells around us.

Calling the road clear was an exaggeration; there was still plenty of waste that the driver cheerfully slalomed around. The young private chatted to Michael about being stuck in mud on three separate occasions earlier in the week. When I asked how he’d got the jeep moving again, he’d laughed and said, “Kitty litter. But now the commissaries are all sold out of it. We’ll have to keep our fingers crossed.”

Fortunately, as we proceeded inland and uphill, the trash and mud became more sporadic, as well as the dead fish. I took off the mask, put on some lip gloss, and smiled at Michael.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?”

We’d moved past the wave’s reach and were in the familiar, rolling Tohoku countryside of TV dramas and postcards. The town of Kinugasa was small and charming. A narrow road was lined by small shops on either side, many of them advertising pottery or lacquer. Hamlets like these usually were packed with tourists’ cars during the spring sightseeing season. Today there were few cars with out-of-prefecture plates. I guessed that it would be a long time until tourists came back to Tohoku and Fukushima, even to inland towns like this that hadn’t been touched by the wave or radiation.

“Kimura Lacquer!” I said, spying the
kanji
characters on a modest brown building a few yards ahead on the right. “This is the right place. ”

“Did you say liquor?” the driver joked. “The guys and I could use something.”

“Lacquer,” I clarified. “Wooden objects painted with a kind of natural shellac. They are really gorgeous.”

“Not that this is a shopping trip,” Michael said tightly. Probably he didn’t want any rumors arising about the misuse of official transportation. We were lucky to have had the ride, especially since we didn’t even know if the Kimuras would let us in the door.

Fortunately, the blue
noren
curtain was fluttering over the door, signifying the business was open. I opened the door and went in first, holding Mayumi’s backpack. Mrs. Kimura was behind a counter, going through a pile of receipts. Her shoulders were bent and her face drawn and tired-looking.

“Hello? Sorry for disturbing you—” I began.

As if operated by machinery, her head came up and she chirped out a welcome.

She hadn’t recognized me with the new hairstyle and city clothes. I said, “We met before in Sugihama.”

Now she took off the glasses she’d put on to do the accounting and stared at me. “Are you Shimura-san?”

“Yes. And this is my husband.”

“Mr. Shimura?” Her eyes goggled at him. “Truly?”

“My name is Michael Hendricks,” Michael answered with a grin in his American-accented Japanese. “My wife enjoys keeping her Japanese family name.”

“I don’t think my husband wants to see you. It’s a difficult time, I’m very sorry—”

“Yes, it is a difficult time. But won’t you please look at what we’ve brought?”

I put the backpack on the counter before her.

“What is this?”

Belatedly I remembered Mayumi had bought the backpack on sale in Tokyo. Her mother must never have seen it. “This is Mayumi’s backpack. Some children found it yesterday, and there are some special things inside.”

Slowly Mrs. Kimura pulled the zipper. She pulled out the first tissue-wrapped object. “This paper is from our shop.” In a palm that was suddenly trembling, she unveiled a tiny grasshopper
inro
.

“This was made by my husband’s great-great-grandfather.” She looked at me. “Where did you find it?”

“Some little girls playing in Sugihama’s business district came across Mayumi’s backpack on a pile of rubble. They were so excited, thinking the
netsuke
and
inro
were toys—”

“Yes,” she said with a wistful half smile. “Mayumi wanted to play with the
inro
when she was young. I told her no, they were too special. But now, I wish I hadn’t.”