Inspector Imanishi Investigates

his sister.

“Please, come in. I’m sure that my sister is a bother to you.” Imanishi observed the bar hostess. She had a pretty face. She was about twenty-five, but her rounded face still retained a childish quality. “Are you busy with chores?” he asked.

“No, not really.”

“It must be hard. Are you off to work soon?”

“Yes, in a little while.”

“It must be a problem returning home late at night.”

“Yes, but I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Where were you living before you moved here?”

“Well…”

Emiko hesitated. She started to answer, but suddenly thought it over and said vaguely, “Well… I’ve moved around quite a bit.”

“I see. Was the place you lived in before closer to Ginza?”

“Well… it was in the Azabu area.”

“Oh, yes, Azabu. That’s a nice area. And it’s near Ginza.”

“But the owners of the building decided to sell it. That’s why I moved here. Even from here, it doesn’t take that long on the train, so it’s more convenient than I thought it would be.”

“But,” Imanishi continued, sipping his tea, “aren’t there times when you can’t make the last train?”

“That’s hardly ever a problem. The bar owner knows that I live out here, so she lets me out in time to make the last train.”

“I see. But there must be times when you have problems with a drunken customer who won’t let you leave.”

“Yes, occasionally. But then friends fill in for me.”

“I’ve never been to a bar like that. I don’t have that kind of money, so I really wouldn’t know,” Imanishi said, with a rueful smile. “I hear that at bars and cabarets these days, unless you’re on an expense account, you aren’t really welcome.”

“That’s not so. It’s just that expense account bills are paid without fail, so the managers prefer them. With regular customers, the bills mount up, collecting becomes a problem, and they’re the responsibility of the hostess assigned to a particular customer.”

“I see. You have interesting and witty conversations with customers, but there’s a difficult side to your work, too.” Imanishi changed the topic. “By the way, are you interested in music?”

“Music?” Emiko looked surprised. “Not especially. I don’t understand it very well. Jazz is the kind of music I like.”

“I don’t understand music at all. It seems like there are all kinds of new forms of music these days. Have you heard about ‘musique concrete’?”

“I’ve heard the term,” Emiko answered without thinking. For an instant, her eyes lit up.

“What kind of music is it?”

“I don’t really know,” Emiko said. “I’ve just heard the term.”

“I see. We’re both the same, then. Actually, I came across the term in yesterday’s newspaper. When you get to be my age, it’s hard to keep up with the new foreign terms that they use. I had a little time, so I read the piece, wondering what this ‘musique concrete’ was. It seemed to be a critique. But I couldn’t understand it at all. The sentences were complicated.”

“Oh, yes, that was written by Sekigawa-sensei,” Emiko said, her voice suddenly more lively. “I read that article as well.”

“Oh, you did?” Imanishi showed surprise. “But I bet you could understand it.”

“No, it was too difficult for me to understand. But I try to read everything that Sekigawa- sensei writes.”

“Hmm. Do you know him?”

Emiko’s eyes held a confused expression. It took a while for her to reply.

“He comes to the bar where I work every now and then. I know him slightly.”

“Is that so? Actually, I know him also.”

“Oh?” Emiko was surprised. “How do you know him?”

“I’ve never talked to him, and he wouldn’t know me. It’s just that I saw him coincidentally at a train station in Akita Prefecture. He was with several other friends. But somehow I feel a special closeness to people I see on a trip like that.

“I’m envious of young people,” Imanishi continued, reminiscing about the trip. “There were four or five of them at the station. Apparently they were on their way home from looking at a rocket research center. They were full of energy.”

“Is that so?” Emiko listened, her eyes shining.

“One of those young men was Sekigawa-san. After that I saw his face in newspaper photos. And each time I felt nostalgic about that trip. That’s why I read that review though I couldn’t understand it.”

Emiko sighed.

“What kind of person is Sekigawa-san? You said he goes to your bar sometimes.”

“He’s very different from other types of customers,” Emiko said, in a lilting voice. “He’s quiet and one learns so much just listening to him.”

“You’re lucky to have such a good customer at your bar,” Imanishi said. “Are you very friendly with him?”

“No, I don’t know him that well.” Emiko looked troubled. “I just know him as one of our customers.”

“I see. I wonder what kind of life an artistic person like that leads. I suppose he’s always reading books, and thinking?”

“Probably. In his type of work it’s important to keep up with everything.”

“I agree. I’m just a layman, so I don’t know, but I suppose a critic has to write about other things than music?”

“Oh, yes, all kinds of things. Particularly in Sekigawa-sensei’s case. He started off with literary criticism. Since his talents are so wide-ranging, he writes about painting, music, and society, too.”

“I see. He’s so young and yet has studied so much,” Imanishi said, sounding impressed.

His sister brought out some early tangerines. “This is nothing special, but please have some.”

“Oh, please don’t bother.” Emiko looked at her watch in a flurry. “I should be getting ready to go.”

“Don’t say that. Please stay.”

Emiko took one of the tangerines offered her. “This is so delicious,” she said, as she ate it.

The conversation continued, but they did not talk further about Sekigawa.

“Thank you so much,” Emiko said politely and stood up to leave.

“See, I told you,” his sister said, sitting next to him. “She’s a quiet young woman. You’d never guess she was a bar hostess.”

“I suppose not. But she’s really fond of that Sekigawa.”

“I guess so. I could tell that, too.”

“She said he just came to her bar every now and then, but I think there’s more to it than that. Didn’t you notice?”

“What?”

“She’s pregnant.”

“Oh?” his sister look at him with surprise.

“That’s what I think. Am I wrong?”

The sister did not answer right away, but looked at him in amazement. “Brother,” she said with a sigh, “you’re a man, how can you tell?”

“So I’m right, aren’t I?”

“She hasn’t said anything, but I’ve been thinking she must be. How did you figure it out?”

“I just felt it somehow. It’s the first time I’ve seen her face, but I imagine that normally she must have a softer