“Forgive me,” he said as he sat down beside Imanishi.
“Look.” Imanishi showed the newspaper to Yoshimura.
“Hm, it’s Sekigawa Shigeo, is it?” As Yoshimura finished the piece he said, “I see,” and rested his elbow on the counter.
“What do you think? I can’t follow the arguments too well, but wouldn’t you say he’s praising Waga Eiryo?”
“Of course he is,” Yoshimura stated unequivocally. “He’s showering him with praise.”
“Hm.” Imanishi thought for a moment. Then he muttered, “I wonder why critics change their opinions so quickly. I read something before that Sekigawa had written about Waga Eiryo’s music. He didn’t praise him like this.”
“Really?”
“I can’t remember the wording, but he didn’t sound that impressed. This is completely different from that other piece.”
“Critics sometimes change their minds,” Yoshimura said. “I have a friend who is a journalist who told me that there is a lot of behind-the-scenes politics. Critics are human, too.”
“I wonder.” Imanishi’s face looked as if he couldn’t quite understand.
Imanishi had finally reached the point where he was about to tell Yoshimura that Sekigawa might be a likely suspect, but he changed his mind after reading the newspaper piece. He decided to wait.
“Imanishi-
They had drunk four or five orders of sake.
“Sure. I’ve had enough. Shall we go?” Imanishi was still thinking about Sekigawa’s review. “Could we have our bill?”
When Imanishi said this, Yoshimura hurriedly offered, “No, no, I’ll get it this time. You’re always treating me.”
Imanishi stopped him. “You’re supposed to let your elders take care of these things.”
The shop owner pulled an unwieldy large abacus toward her and began figuring their bill. Watching her, Imanishi remembered the Kamedake abacus in his coat pocket.
“Yoshimura, let me show you something interesting.”
“What is it?”
Imanishi pulled his coat toward him. “This.”
“So, it’s a Kamedake abacus,” Yoshimura said reading the label on the box.
“Your total comes to 750 yen. Thank you very much.” The owner presented the bill.
“Hey, Ma’am, look at this.” Imanishi pointed his chin at the abacus Yoshimura was holding.
The glossy back beads reflected the light. Yoshimura was flicking the beads in a comfortable way.
“They slide very smoothly.”
“They told me they make the best abacuses in Japan. That’s the advertising slogan of the local manufacturer. When you see the real thing, it doesn’t seem to be empty boasting.”
“Where are they made?” The shop owner leaned over to look.
“In the mountains near Izumo in Shimane Prefecture.”
“May I see it, too?” The shop owner flicked the beads as if to test them, just as Yoshimura had done.
“This is a wonderful abacus,” she said, looking at Imanishi.
“This summer I went to the part of the country where they make these. Someone I met there sent it to me,” Imanishi explained.
“Is that so.”
“Oh, did it come recently?” Yoshimura asked.
“Yes. It came today. The old man I met, Kirihara, sent this to me as a present. He said it was made in his son’s factory.”
“I remember hearing you talk about him,” Yoshimura nodded. “People in the countryside are sincere, aren’t they?”
“They really are. It surprised me to receive this; I had only met him briefly.”
Imanishi paid the bill.
“Thank you very much.” The owner bowed her head.
Sticking the abacus back into his coat pocket, Imanishi left the
“It’s funny,” Imanishi said as he walked along with Yoshimura “this abacus came just when I had forgotten all about Kamedake.”
“You went there full of anticipation, didn’t you?”
“I went thinking ‘this time for sure.’ It was during the peak of the heat. I’ll probably never go to that mountain area again.”
They walked along the raised tracks.
“Oh, yes, Kirihara-
“I see. I can’t tell whether a haiku is good or bad, but this one makes you feel the scene. Speaking of haiku, you haven’t shown me any of yours recently.”
“I’ve been too busy to write any.”
What Imanishi said was true. These days the pages of his haiku notebook remained blank.
“I’m glad I could see you tonight,” Imanishi confided.
“Really? You didn’t say much.”
“Just seeing you has made me feel a little better.”
“You’re still working on that case, aren’t you? And I suppose you’ve come up against a stumbling block.”
“That’s about it.” Imanishi rubbed his face with his hands. “I’d like to talk to you, but, to be honest, right now I’m confused.”
“I understand,” Yoshimura smiled. “Knowing you, I’m sure things will start falling into place soon. I’ll look forward to hearing about it then.”
It was ten o’clock when Imanishi returned home.
“I’d like some rice with green tea poured over it,” he told Yoshiko. “I stopped off to have a drink with young Yoshimura.”
“How is he?” she asked as she helped Imanishi off with his jacket.
“Fine.”
“He should come visit us some time.”
“Look what I was given.” He took the abacus out of his coat pocket.
“Oh, my.” She took it out of the box. “It’s a beautiful abacus. Who gave it to you?”
“An old gentleman that I met last summer who owns an abacus factory in Shimane.”
“Oh, from that trip?”
“I’d like to give it to you,” Imanishi said. “Use it to keep the family accounts so that we won’t waste any money.”
“This elegant abacus would cry if we used it for our meager household finances,” Yoshiko said as she put it carefully away in a drawer.
Imanishi had taken out his stationery and was thinking about how to word his thank-you letter to Kirihara Kojuro when Yoshiko called him saying, “Your food is ready.”
On the dining table were plates of simmered radish and some dried fish.
“It’s getting to be the season for radishes,” Yoshiko said as she poured hot tea over Imanishi’s rice.
“Mm.”
Imanishi put his lips to the bowl and slurped the rice into his mouth.
“So it’s Kamata…” Imanishi muttered.
“What’s that?” Yoshiko looked over at him and asked.
“No, it’s nothing.”
Imanishi chewed the dried fish and ate the radishes. He hadn’t meant to say Kamata out loud. He had a habit of concentrating on what was on his mind while he ate his meal. As he put his food into his mouth he would
