Her head slightly to the right. In a yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress. Her right arm outstretched. In a white half-sleeved chemise. Her left arm at her side. In dyed-pink socks. Her legs parted, raised and bent at the knee. In white canvas shoes with red rubber soles. My come drying on her stomach and on her ribs. In white canvas shoes with red rubber soles. She brings her left hand up to her stomach. In dyed-pink socks. She dips her fingers in my come. In a white half-sleeved chemise. She puts her fingers to her lips. In a yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress. She licks my come from her fingers. In that yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress …
She is beside me now, beside me now, beside me now –
I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to remember …
I smash my fist into her three-panelled vanity mirror –
But here, in the half-light, I can’t forget…
I shout into her mirror, again and again –
No one is who they say they are …
‘Who are you? Who are you?’
*
Through the doors of the borrowed police station. Ishida. I have a shaved head. Ishida. Up the stairs of the borrowed police station. Ishida. I have a bandaged hand. Ishida. To the borrowed second-floor room where Hattori, Takeda, Sanada, Shimoda, Nishi and Kimura have him; Ishida with a black eye, a bloody mouth and handcuffed wrists. Ishida. Ishida looking at the floor, staring at his boots –
‘What’s going on? What have you done to him?’
‘You told us to keep him here,’ says Hattori.
‘I didn’t tell you to beat and handcuff him.’
‘We had no choice, did we?’ says Hattori.
‘What do you mean, you had no choice?’
‘He was going to run,’ says Takeda.
‘Just like Fujita,’ says Hattori –
Fujita. Fujita. Fujita…
I wipe my face. I wipe my neck. I walk over to Ishida. I raise his face from the floor. I ask him, ‘Where have you been, detective?’
Ishida sucks the air in between his teeth but does not answer –
‘We think he went to see Detective Fujita,’ says Takeda –
‘We reckon he knows where Fujita is,’ agrees Sanada –
‘And knows why Fujita has gone,’ hisses Hattori –
‘But he won’t tell us anything,’ says Shimoda –
‘So I say we should turn him over to Chief Inspector Adachi,’ says Hattori now. ‘He’d soon make him talk…’
‘Why turn him over to Chief Inspector Adachi?’ I ask him. ‘What would Chief Inspector Adachi want with Ishida?’
‘The Chief Inspector was here looking for him,’ says Hattori. ‘Looking for Ishida, asking about Detective Fujita —’
I curse him and I curse him and I curse him …
‘When was Chief Inspector Adachi here?’
‘Yesterday evening,’ says Hattori. ‘When you weren’t.’
I curse him and I curse myself…
They are mumbling now. They are muttering now –
I am the head of the room! I am the boss …
‘Enough!’ I shout. ‘I want your reports now!’
They stop mumbling. They stop muttering –
Eyes full of dissent and eyes full of hate …
And they make their reports about Tominaga Noriko’s landlady. And they make their reports about Masaoka Hisae –
‘But there was one other thing,’ says Detective Sanada. ‘Masaoka told us that Kodaira Yoshio always had gifts on him…’
‘You mean like food,’ I ask him. ‘Like kaidashi?’
‘As well as food,’ says Detective Sanada. ‘Proper gifts for ladies like jewellery, watches, umbrellas, you know…?’
‘Thank you, detective,’ I say. ‘Now I want you all back out on the streets today, back round Shiba and back round the park, back with the descriptions of Tominaga Noriko and Kodaira Yoshio…’
Investigation is footwork. Investigation is footwork …
‘What about Ishida here?’ asks Detective Hattori.
‘Leave him to me,’ I say. ‘You just get to work.’
But Hattori doesn’t move. ‘What about Fujita?’
‘Get to work, detective!’ I shout –
But, for just one moment, Hattori still doesn’t move. None of them move; Hattori, Takeda, Sanada, Shimoda, Nishi or Kimura; their eyes full of questions and doubts, full of dissent and hate –
Lead your men! Lead your men! Lead your men!
Now Hattori moves and then they all move –
I am the boss! I am the boss! I am the boss!
‘Detective Nishi, you wait here,’ I say –
Detective Nishi nods. Nishi waits –
‘Detective Takeda! Detective Kimura!’ I shout after them. ‘What time will Tominaga’s landlady be at Keiō Hospital?’
‘I said I’d take her,’ says Takeda. ‘An hour ago.’
I am the boss! I am the boss! I am the boss!
‘What are you standing around here for then?’ I shout at him. ‘You two go and pick her up and meet me up at Keiō with her…’
They are mumbling as they leave, muttering again.
Lead your men! Lead your men! Lead your men!
I turn to Detective Nishi. I take Detective Nishi off to one side. I ask him, ‘Did you hear back from the Kanuma police?’
Detective Nishi nods. Detective Nishi takes a piece of paper from his jacket. Detective Nishi hands it to me –
‘Good work, detective,’ I tell him.
Nishi bows. Nishi thanks me –
I am the boss! I am the boss!
Nishi says it was nothing –
I am the boss! The boss!
I shake my head and I thank him. Now I write down a name on a piece of paper for him and tell him, ‘Get me an address for this man and then meet me at Keiō with it as soon as you can…’
Nishi nods again. Nishi bows. Now Nishi leaves –
He leaves me alone with Detective Ishida.
*
My skin is red. Ishida on his knees. My skin is raw. Where is the file? My hand aches. What file? My body sweats. The Miyazaki Mitsuko file. The city stinks of shit. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Of shit and dirt and dust. The Miyazaki Mitsuko file. The dirt and the dust that coats my clothes and coats my skin. I’ve never heard of it. That scars my nostrils and burns my throat. Liar! Liar! Liar! With every passing jeep and with every passing truck. No, no, no. I take out my handkerchief. The file Fujita asked you to sign out. I take off my hat. No, no, no. I wipe my face. The file you signed out under Nishi’s name. I wipe my neck. I didn’t. I stare up at the bleached-white sky. The file you were to give to Fujita. The clouds of typhus. No, no, no. The clouds of dust. The Miyazaki Mitsuko file. The clouds of dirt. I don’t know what file you mean. The clouds of shit. The Miyazaki Mitsuko file! My skin is red. I don’t know what you’re talking about. My skin is raw. Tell me where it is! My hand aches. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. My body sweats. I’m sorry, then. The city stinks of shit. But I really don’t know. The city stinks of defeat. Because you’re on your own now. This city on its knees –