The Woman in the Purple Skirt

staff aren’t the only ones who have access to the rooms, after all. Guests enter, of course. Bellhops, room service, maintenance staff, and others enter regularly—even people who have nothing whatsoever to do with the hotel. I can only repeat what I told you all before: Please keep a close eye on the list of supplies. If you see that something has gone missing, you must report it immediately to whoever’s in charge. If anyone doesn’t report a complimentary item that’s missing, or marks it on the checklist as being there when it’s not—in other words, if anyone attempts to cover up for missing inventory—I will want to know why. Now, ladies. All I want from you is honesty. If you come forward and own up to it now, you won’t be accused of anything. But if no one comes forward, then the hotel will have no option but to report this to the police as theft, and ask them to open an investigation. I repeat: If you come forward now, you will not be accused of anything. The hotel management is fully in agreement. If there are any questions, you can call me on my personal cell phone. I’m available twenty-four hours. Utterly confidential.”

Although normally the cleaning staff would have expressed outrage—“What does he mean, he doesn’t suspect us? It’s practically stamped all over his face!”—today they just stood there, meekly accepting his instructions. It was obvious that they were just as convinced as he was that the culprit was someone in that very room. And every one of them—not only the supervisors but also the junior staff—had one particular person in mind. There was a perfectly good reason for this: the primary school that was the scene of the crime was just a stone’s throw away from that person’s apartment.

“I bet you it’s Hino-san.”

“Yeah. Me too. I’m sure of it.”

“Her apartment is right by that school. It’s got to be her.”

“I wonder whether the director is aware that this has been going on?”

“Don’t you think he’s the one pulling the strings behind the scenes . . . ?”

“Why would he do that?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s in need of some extra cash.”

“Well, you don’t exactly make millions by selling things at a bazaar. . . .”

“It shows how desperate he is for money, I suppose.”

“Well, he needs it now that he’s getting a divorce. . . .”

“What?! He’s getting a divorce?!”

“Well, he’s got a new woman now, doesn’t he!”

“He’s not getting a divorce. Just recently he was telling me about a trip he took with his wife to Ishigaki Island, to celebrate their tenth anniversary. He went on and on about it. I hadn’t even asked.”

“Oh. Well. Pretty soon, then, you can be sure that girl’s going to find herself dumped.”

“She must be stealing all this stuff as a way of intimidating him.”

“Ah-hah. That’s possible.”

“Shh. Here she is.”

The Woman in the Purple Skirt had silently appeared in the foyer outside the elevator. As usual her face betrayed an utter lack of concern.

“Thief,” Supervisor Tsukada said under her breath. Maybe the lack of concern had irritated her.

“Did you say something?” The Woman in the Purple Skirt turned and looked in the direction of the voice. At long last, a reaction. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“Oh really now,” said Supervisor Tsukada sarcastically. “Even though the elementary school is in your neighborhood?”

“So? You think that proves anything?” The Woman in the Purple Skirt glared at Supervisor Tsukada.

There was a tense silence.

“You lock the rooms from the inside, don’t you, when you do your cleaning?” This was Supervisor Hamamoto. “Do you mind telling us what you get up to in there?”

“I don’t see why that—”

“Just tell us what you get up to!” Supervisor Tsukada demanded.

“I drink a cup of coffee . . . ,” the Woman in the Purple Skirt replied in a quiet voice.

“From the hospitality tray?”

“Yes.”

“Is that all?”

“I might also sometimes eat a cake.”

“You mean a cake from the minibar? That the guests have to pay for?”

“Yes. . . .”

“Did you hear? She steals cakes from the minibar!” Despicable! The very worst kind of behavior! everyone muttered in agreement.

“Hold on a minute,” the Woman in the Purple Skirt retorted. “I’m not the only one who does so. Everyone does it—I know for a fact! And anyway, you, Supervisor Tsukada . . .”

“What about me?”

“Well, you were the one who encouraged me to do it in the first place. ‘If you want to have a cup of coffee, just lock the door from the inside. The front desk is always notified automatically if you watch a video. But the minibar is safe—we supervisors can always make up some excuse for cakes and snacks going missing.’ Isn’t that what you said? So I was only doing what you taught me.”

Supervisor Tsukada gave a sigh. “Huh. Shifting the blame.”

“Well? Didn’t you say that? I seem to remember you saying, ‘One of us even likes to help herself to the champagne!’ Yes, Supervisor Tachibana, don’t you remember? That water bottle I can see poking out of your bag. It’s filled with champagne, isn’t it?”

“What? You actually believed that?” Supervisor Hamamoto widened her eyes. “What’s wrong with you, girl? That was a joke!”

Everyone burst into laughter. Supervisor Tachibana was laughing just as hard as everyone else, holding her belly. “I admit I like my drink, but I’m not that stupid!”

Just then, the Woman in the Purple Skirt reached out and snatched Supervisor Tachibana’s bag.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”

The Woman in the Purple Skirt pulled out the light blue water bottle, twisted off the cap, and sniffed.

“Give that back now!”

One of the older ladies wrested the bottle and the bag from the Woman in the Purple Skirt, and returned them to Supervisor Tachibana.

“Why snatch her bag like that? How rude can you get?!”

“It’s mugicha,” Supervisor Tachibana snorted, screwing the cap back on. “No champagne in it. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“If that’s really what you think,” Supervisor Tsukada said, “why not check all our water bottles? You can start with mine!”

She pulled her water bottle out of her bag and shoved it under