A woman was lying there covered by a futon. Her hair trailed out at the side of the pillow.
At first they thought the husband had gone out, perhaps to buy ice. But they could not wait around aimlessly for his return. The doctor turned back the futon. The woman lay with her face toward the wall.
“Hello,” the nurse said in a low voice, “Hello.”
There was no answer.
“Could she be asleep?” the nurse asked the doctor, turning around.
“If she’s asleep, it can’t be that serious.”
The flashlight still in his hand, the doctor walked around the bedding and sat facing the patient.
“Miura-
Even when the doctor called her, she didn’t move. Her expression was full of pain. Her brow was furrowed, her mouth slightly open.
Suddenly he said in a different tone of voice, “Look around the place for someone else.”
The nurse gathered the seriousness of the patient’s condition from the tone of the doctor’s voice. She went toward what appeared to be the kitchen.
“Isn’t anyone here?” she called out two or three times. Still there was no answer. “No, Doctor, no one is here.” The nurse returned and stood behind the doctor.
The doctor had already turned back the covers and placed his stethoscope on the patient’s chest. His concentration in listening for a heartbeat seemed to be more intense than usual.
The nurse went to call the people from the main house. They were a couple in their fifties, who came in, having just been awakened, in confused haste.
“Has something happened?” the wife asked.
“I’m a doctor named Uesugi.”
“Yes, I recognize you.”
“I was just called to this house by telephone. I’m examining a patient. Is her husband here?”
“Her husband?” the man of the house responded. “There’s no husband. She moved in alone.”
“Alone? But some man called me on the telephone a little while ago.”
The doctor looked at the nurse.
“Yes, it was a man. He asked that we come here right away.”
“Well, we didn’t call. We didn’t even know she was ill.”
“Doctor, what seems to be the problem?” The couple fearfully entered the room and peered at the patient from the edge of the bedding.
“She’s in critical condition,” the doctor said.
“What? Critical?” The couple stared, amazed.
“Her heart is still beating, but it’s faint. I don’t think she can make it.”
“What… what happened?”
“She’s expecting.”
“Expecting?”
“Yes, she’s pregnant. I think she’s about four months along. I can’t tell unless I examine her more closely, but she’s had a miscarriage.”
The doctor had hesitated before he used the word “miscarriage.” He had a different opinion. He had chosen to use a softer expression. The couple looked at each other.
“Doctor, what shall we do? This is really distressing,” the wife said.
“Under normal conditions, she should be hospitalized. But in this situation, there’s nothing to be done.”
“What a terrible problem,” the landlord said. His way of stating this revealed the inconvenience he was aware would result from having a person die on his premises.
“Doesn’t she have any family?” the doctor asked.
“No, we know of no one. She just moved here yesterday.”
The doctor looked at the patient’s face again. He ordered the nurse to prepare an injection and quickly gave the patient a cardiac stimulant.
“Is she conscious?” the landlord asked, looking at her.
“No, I don’t think she’s aware of anything anymore.”
Just as the doctor said this, the woman’s lips moved. The doctor watched her tensely.
“… Stop it, please. Oh, no, no. I’m afraid something will happen to me. Stop it, please, stop, stop…” Then the words ceased.
“Imanishi-
Imanishi was at his desk writing a status report. He had been put in charge of an unimportant case.
“All right.” He pushed his chair back and stood up.
“It’s from someone named Tanaka.”
“Tanaka?”
“It’s a woman.”
Imanishi could not place the name. “This is Imanishi,” he said, taking the receiver.
“Thank you for coming by yesterday,” said the woman’s voice.
“Yes?” Imanishi was taken aback since he couldn’t tell who it was.
“I don’t think the name Tanaka means anything to you. I’m the madam at the Club Bonheur, which you visited yesterday. I wanted to inform you about Emiko, but perhaps you’ve already heard?”
“No, I haven’t heard anything. Where is she?”
“Emiko’s dead.”
“She’s dead?” Imanishi was shocked. “Is that true?”
“So you haven’t heard yet. Actually, after you left the bar, I had a telephone call from Emiko’s new landlord. He said Emiko had died and that he wanted to contact her parents. He asked me if I knew where they were.”
“I see. How did she die?” Imanishi was still astonished. He thought at first that Emiko had been killed. But if it had been murder, there would have been a report filed with the Homicide Division.
“Apparently she was pregnant; she fell and hit herself in a bad place. I was completely unaware that she was pregnant, so I was shocked when I heard.” The madam seemed more surprised about Emiko’s pregnancy than about her death.
“Where did this fall occur?”
“At her new place. It seems she’d just moved in.”
“And the address?” Imanishi picked up a pencil.
“I’ll tell you exactly what the landlord told me. It was Kubota Yasuo’s house, Number xx, Soshigaya, Setagaya Ward. She had rented a cottage in back of the main house.”
Imanishi hurriedly thanked her.
Imanishi introduced himself to Kubota Yasuo, who seemed to be a good-natured man of about fifty.
“We were very surprised,” Kubota said in response to the detective’s questions. “It was almost midnight when a doctor called to us from the house in back. He said that the woman who had just moved in was dying. We rushed over, but she was almost gone.”
“So you hadn’t called the doctor?”
“No. But someone had telephoned him.”
“Did she come to rent the cottage herself?”
“Yes, she did. We always list our cottage with the real estate agent across from the station. She said she heard about it there and came to see it.”
“I see.”
“I never expected anything like this to happen. She said she lived alone, so I thought she would be a quiet tenant, and gladly offered her a lease.”
“Did she say that she worked as a bar hostess?”
“No, she didn’t tell us that. She said that she was planning to go to a dressmaking school during the day, so I had no idea that she was a bar hostess. When I looked through her things after she died, I found something from a Club Bonheur. That’s why I called there last night.”
“Can you tell me about the day she moved in?”
“I can’t really tell you much. Her things were delivered night before last. As you can see, our rear house has its
