She’d majored in English literature in college and had dreams of becoming a translator. Koki knew that she’d even planned to study in the UK after graduation.
Getting pregnant put paid to all that. Naturally, she knew who the father was: Naohiro Kiyose. Naohiro was a successful entrepreneur who’d launched his own business in his early thirties.
When she told Naohiro, he decided to marry her. Mineko accepted his proposal, and her family had no objections. Weddings based on accidental pregnancy were common enough back then.
Koki, though, had his own reasons for thinking that Mineko was less than happy with the marriage.
One day, when he was still in junior high school, he happened to overhear his mother talking to one of her old college friends on the phone.
“I want to try my luck in the real world. You understand, don’t you? I’m still only thirty-seven. The thought of continuing to live as I do now is too depressing. God, I’m jealous of you and your job. Things wouldn’t be like this if I hadn’t gotten pregnant. Naohiro and I — we probably wouldn’t have gotten married. Getting pregnant was my biggest mistake. It was already too late for an abortion when I found out. Besides, I wanted the experience of raising a child. That’s not enough, though. I wasn’t put on this earth just to be a mother. I spend every waking minute taking care of my son and my husband — but what about me and my life?”
Getting pregnant was my biggest mistake. The words were like a dagger in Koki’s heart.
Koki had sensed that his father wasn’t particularly interested in his family, but he’d never questioned his mother’s love — until that moment. She cooked him his meals, looked after his every need, and if she lost her temper with him from time to time, that was only because she wanted the best for him.
Or so he thought. It turned out that she was just playing the part of a mother while resenting him all along. And it wasn’t like it started yesterday: those negative feelings went back to the moment of his conception.
From that day on, Koki did all he could to avoid any sort of obligation to his mother. He hated the idea that she saw him as the reason her life had come to nothing.
Now, Koki saw things very differently. He no longer believed that Mineko didn’t love him, her only son. The comment she’d made on the phone was the sort of thing anyone might say when they were feeling fed up. Still, she’d been sincere about her desire to start over. That explained why she’d moved to her own place in central Tokyo instead of returning to her parents’ house after the divorce.
But why here specifically? Koki contemplated the building. He knew very little about his mother’s life, but he couldn’t imagine why she’d choose Nihonbashi.
He was still standing in the street when three men came out of the building. Koki was startled to see that Naohiro was one of them.
Naohiro stopped in his tracks.
“What the hell! What do you think you’re doing here?”
“No, what are you doing here, Dad?”
“I’m helping the police. We’ve just been in Mineko’s apartment.”
“Are you the son of the victim?” a man in a suit asked him. “Who gave you the address?”
“I asked around. A couple of detectives came to see me yesterday, but they wouldn’t tell me.”
“Okay.” The man nodded and glanced at Naohiro. “Should we let your son have a look at the apartment?”
“There’s no need. He hasn’t spoken to his mother in two years.”
“Okay then, scratch that. Could you come down to the station with us, Mr. Kiyose?”
“Sure.”
Ignoring Koki, the detectives stalked off. It was obvious that they had no interest in anyone they couldn’t pump for information. Naohiro, who was about to follow them, spun around.
“If you hang around here, you’ll only get in the way and screw up the investigation. Run along and go back to your actor chums.”
Koki glared at his father. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Naohiro went after the detectives without condescending to reply. Koki snorted derisively.
At that moment, he heard a voice behind him. “Excuse me a minute.” He turned. A man in a blue shirt worn over a black T-shirt emerged from the apartment building. His face was dark and lined.
“I was standing in the lobby there and couldn’t help overhearing. Are you Ms. Mitsui’s son?”
“Yes. Who are you?”
The man pulled a police ID out of his back pocket and introduced himself as Detective Kaga of Nihonbashi Precinct.
“I guess you wanted to see where it happened?”
“That’s right. I live quite nearby.”
“Nearby? Sorry, where exactly?”
“Asakusabashi.”
“That’s certainly close. Did you walk?”
“No. My girlfriend works near here. We came over together on her bike.”
“I see.” Kaga pondered a moment, then looked into Koki’s face. “Do you want to see the crime scene?”
Koki blinked in surprise. “Is that allowed?”
“As I’m the person in charge of preserving the crime scene, yes it is,” said Kaga, whipping a key out of his pocket.
Mineko’s apartment was on the fourth floor. About two hundred square feet, it was furnished with a single bed, a computer desk, a bookshelf, a table, and an armchair. It was spotlessly clean, yet it felt cramped. Koki was impressed that his mother managed to exist in such a tiny studio after years of living in a large house.
“How did it happen?” asked Koki, standing on the low concrete step in the entranceway.
“A friend of your mother’s found her. They were supposed to have dinner together. The friend rang the doorbell, and when no one answered, she opened the door and discovered Mineko facedown on the floor. Initially, she thought it was a fit or a stroke, but when she noticed the marks on her throat, she called the police.” Kaga rattled off the details without consulting his notes. Koki was taken aback: why was Kaga being so open with him? It was the complete opposite of the detectives of the day before.
“Who was the friend?” Koki mumbled.
“They’d been friends in college. She was working as a translator, and Mineko had been helping her out since the divorce.”
“That’s interesting...”
So Mom was doing what she’d always dreamed of doing. The realization that her divorce hadn’t left her lonely and embittered gave Koki some comfort.
This, then, was the place where she’d taken the first steps in her journey as a translator. As Koki scanned the apartment, something caught his eye. There was a magazine rack in one corner of the room; one of the magazines in it had no business being in his mother’s place. It was about baby care.
“Something wrong?” Kaga inquired.
“I don’t know. It’s that baby magazine over there. I was wondering what it’s doing here.” Koki pointed to the magazine rack.
Slipping on a pair of latex gloves, Kaga went over and picked up the magazine.
“You’ve got a point.”
“No way my mom was pregnant, right?”
“If she was, I’ve yet to hear about it,” answered Kaga gravely, as he replaced the magazine in the rack. “Did you know that your mother moved here about two months ago? Before that she was renting an apartment from a friend of hers over in Kamata, about ten miles from here.”
“Really?”
“The friend who found the body told us that your mother’s decision to move here was very sudden. When the friend asked why Kodenmacho specifically, your mother said something about ‘inspiration.’”