Jonelle Patrick's Blog, page 33
February 19, 2017
Inexplicable Toy Trends Of Japan
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Strolling through the toy aisles of Yodabashi camera one rainy day (as one does), I was stopped in my tracks by this. Disney goes pocchari!
Mocchi-mocchi Pooh! Not to be outdone by chublet Minnie & Mickey. At first I thought this must be some sort of knock-off malfunction, but no. It’s officially licensed merch! But WHY?
Lately, an “adorable chubbiness” fad has swept Japan with marshmallow girl bands and a fascination with ample felines, but I was quite surprised to see characters that are usually fenced in by the strictest branding guidelines donning some none-too-subtle love handles. Wonders never cease.
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Jonelle Patrick writes mysteries set in Tokyo. Her fourth book – Painted Doll – is just out in paperback
“A genuinely gripping crime thriller which wrong-foots and perplexes the reader throughout, drawing us in emotionally . . . Highly recommended.” –Raven Crime Reads*
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When Tokyo Detective Kenji Nakamura’s phone rings with the news that his mother’s death ten years ago wasn’t an accident, his world begins to unravel. New evidence links her to…read more
* Speaking of new books, if you’re as much of a mystery/thriller junkie as I am, you’ll occasionally be in dire need of discovering new series to devour. Raven Crime Reads is one of my favorite go-to sources for new books, because she’s so great at winkling out hidden gems and wittily putting her finger on just what appeals…or doesn’t. And SHUT UP I’m not just saying this because she liked my book – I was hooked long before those kind words were penned. Click over here, browse a couple of her reviews, then after an hour passes by like it was two minutes, scroll down and follow, so you get the goodness on a regular basis.)
February 8, 2017
Plum Blossom Countdown
All of February (and a little of March) is the best time to see fluffy pink and white and red beauties bursting like popcorn all over Tokyo. Here are the best places to see them, in order of when they bloom:
Note: These photos were all taken from 2014-2016, so depending on how warm or cold the winter has been, peak blooming can happen earlier or later by a week or so. Each plum tree blooms for about ten days, so gardens with many varieties have something to see (and take pictures of) for about three weeks around the dates these were taken.
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End of January:
Kameido Tenjin Shrine near Kameido Station
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Photo taken on Jan 22 • This temple has many interesting varieties of plum trees, and they bloom into the middle of February. The main shrine building is lovely, and is flanked by a venerable white plum on one side and a red plum on the other
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Koraku-en Garden near Korakuen Station
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Photo taken on Jan 23 • This garden has a nice grove of various kinds of plum trees and is one of the earliest places they bloom. Bonus: the rest of the garden is one of the most beautiful strolls in Tokyo
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Beginning of February:
Nishiarai Daishi Temple near Daishimae Station
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Photo taken on Feb 6 • This temple has some very nice plum tree specimens of various colors. Bonus: There is a truly eye-popping early blooming cherry tree here that’s in flower at the same time as the plums and also a wart-curing shrine.
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Sankei-en Garden in Yokohama
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Photo taken on Jan 23 • This magnificent garden doesn’t have a lot of plum trees, but the the varieties they have are lovely. Bonus: there is a historical pagoda and other traditional buildings set around a large pond, which makes for a really nice walk, even in winter
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Hanegi Park near Umegaoka Station
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Photo taken on Feb 9 – There are 650 plum trees of all varieties blooming at this park, and they cycle in and out of bloom for the entire month of February
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Gotokuji Temple near Gotokuji Station
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Photo taken on Feb 10 • This temple doesn’t have a lot of plum trees, but the ones they have are spectacular. Bonus: this temple also has a beautiful wooden pagoda and is home to the lucky cat shrine
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Kanda Myoujin Shrine near Ochanomizu Station
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Photo taken on Feb 10 • This shrine doesn’t have a huge selection of plum trees, but they are especially beautiful in contrast with the red and gold shrine buildings. Bonus: This is the shrine where all anime and manga artists go to pray for success, and the prayer plaques are always a random showcase of amazing comic book-style art
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Kitano Shrine near Korakuen Station
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Photo taken on Feb 10 – This is a tiny shrine, but it’s famous for its plum trees
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Shinjuku Gyou-en Park near Shinjuku-sanchome Station
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Photo taken on Feb 10 • The Japanese garden within Shinjuku Gyou-en has a grove of plum trees with some quite exquisite varieties. Well worth seeing
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Yushima Shrine near Yushima Station
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Photo taken on Feb 10 • This shrine is famous for its many gorgeous plum trees, and holds a Plum Blossom (Ume) Festival every weekend in February and the first weekend in March
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Mid to End of February
Kyu Shiba-rikyu Garden near Hamamatsuhcho Station
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Photo taken on Feb 20 • This beautiful little-known garden right next to Hamamatsucho Station has some of the most unusual plum trees in Tokyo. The grove is small, but spectacular when it’s in full bloom. Bonus: The walk around the pond has many classic Japanese garden photo spots
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Okurayama Park near Okurayama Station in Yokohama
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Photo taken on Feb 20 • This garden has a beautiful grove with many varieties of plum trees, which start to bloom earlier than this picture was taken, for pretty much the entire month of February
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Beginning of March:
Arisugawa Park near Hiroo Station
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Photo taken on Mar 5 • There is a small grove of plum trees at this jewel of a park, and all of them are beautiful. A fifteen minute walk from shopping-crazy Roppongi Hills, this garden is a welcome respite from the urban frenzy
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Hama-rikyu Teien Garden near Shiodome Station
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Photo taken on Mar 7 • One of the most magnificent (and famous) groves of plum trees in Tokyo. I think this garden is one of the most scenic places to see them. Bonus: The trees nearest the entrance are next to a field of neon yellow flowers, which is a favorite spot for wedding photos. If you’re lucky, you’ll see kimono clad couples along with the plums
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Lots more photos and info about all these plum-viewing places are here: Where To See The Best Plum Blossoms In Tokyo
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Jonelle Patrick writes mysteries set in Tokyo. Her fourth book – Painted Doll – is just out in paperback
“A genuinely gripping crime thriller which wrong-foots and perplexes the reader throughout, drawing us in emotionally . . . Highly recommended.” –Raven Crime Reads
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When Tokyo Detective Kenji Nakamura’s phone rings with the news that his mother’s death ten years ago wasn’t an accident, his world begins to unravel. New evidence links her to…read more
February 2, 2017
Rainbow Icicle Wonderland
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On the way to the Werewolf Shrine in remote Chichibu, locals have enterprisingly turned the frozen waterfalls that spangle the cliffs and caves alongside the Arakawa River into a winter wonderland!
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First of all, before the sun goes down and the lights go up, check out the tiny photographer to get a sense of the size of these puppies!
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Then feast your eyes on the frozen waterfalls, as they glow blue…
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…and pink…
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…and, well, you get the idea, but I’m going to show you more because I’m a total slut for sparkly and rainbowlike things
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Jonelle Patrick writes mysteries set in Tokyo. Her fourth book – Painted Doll – is just out in paperback
“A genuinely gripping crime thriller which wrong-foots and perplexes the reader throughout, drawing us in emotionally . . . Highly recommended.” –Raven Crime Reads
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When Tokyo Detective Kenji Nakamura’s phone rings with the news that his mother’s death ten years ago wasn’t an accident, his world begins to unravel. New evidence links her to…read more
January 28, 2017
Tweets From The Pillow Book
With apologies to Hokusai
Just think, if the author of The Pillow Book were alive today…
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@seishonagon When the ornamental comb one has ordered turns out to be pretty #pleasingthings
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@seishonagon One has gone to bed and is about to doze off when a mosquito appears, announcing himself in a reedy voice #hatefulthings
@seishonagon One has been foolish enough to invite a man to spend the night in an unsuitable place – and then he starts snoring #hatefulthings
@seishonagon One is telling a story when someone breaks in with a detail he happens to know, implying that one’s own version is inaccurate #hatefulthings
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@seishonagon Lying awake at night, one says something to one’s companion, who simply goes on sleeping #embarrassingthings
@seishonagon To have spoken about someone not knowing that he could overhear #embarrassingthings
@seishonagon A man recites his own poems (not especially good ones) and tells one about the praise they have received #embarrassingthings
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@seishonagon A very cold winter scene #thingsthatgainbybeingpainted
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@seishonagon Cherry blossoms #thingsthatlosebybeingpainted
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@seishonagon A large tree that has been blown down in a gale and lies on its side with its roots in the air #thingsthathavelosttheirpower
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@seishonagon The back of a piece of embroidery #squalidthings
@seishonagon Darkness in a place that does not give the impression of being very clean #squalidthings
@seishonagon The inside of a cat’s ear #squalidthings
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@seishonagon The last day of the Twelfth Month and the first of the First #thingsthataredistantthoughnear
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@seishonagon I look for an object that I need at once, and I find it #pleasingthings
@seishonagon Finding a large number of tales that one has not read before #pleasingthings
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I don’t know why, but I’ve always loved The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon. These are all quotes from the Ivan Morris translation, written by a woman who lived a thousand years ago.
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Jonelle Patrick writes mysteries set in Tokyo. Her fourth book – Painted Doll – is just out in paperback
“A genuinely gripping crime thriller which wrong-foots and perplexes the reader throughout, drawing us in emotionally . . . Highly recommended.” –Raven Crime Reads
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When Tokyo Detective Kenji Nakamura’s phone rings with the news that his mother’s death ten years ago wasn’t an accident, his world begins to unravel. New evidence links her to…read more
January 26, 2017
Dog Socks Of Overwhelming Cuteness
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Am I right or am I right?
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So, the thing you can’t really tell from seeing them on the little hanger thingies is that the face of the brown one is on your toes, but the face of the gray one is above your heel, which makes for a lasting impression of adorableness as you walk away
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Plus, they coordinate perfectly with all your canine-themed wardrobe items (YES some days a furry shiba blanket counts as clothing SHUT UP)
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Jonelle Patrick writes mysteries set in Tokyo. Her fourth book – Painted Doll – is just out in paperback
“A genuinely gripping crime thriller which wrong-foots and perplexes the reader throughout, drawing us in emotionally . . . Highly recommended.” –Raven Crime Reads
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When Tokyo Detective Kenji Nakamura’s phone rings with the news that his mother’s death ten years ago wasn’t an accident, his world begins to unravel. New evidence links her to…read more
December 28, 2016
Thanks For Destroying My Fantasies, Little Host Stickers
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Okay, when I spotted this page of stickers at Tokyu Hands featuring smokin’ hot hostboys, I thought they were kinda fun. Even considered buying a bunch of them to give to my favorite hostboy fangirls. And then I looked a little…closer.
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Ummm…why does this one read “Princess,” not “Prince”?
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Had to look this one up in my kanji dictionary. No. Wait. Tell me it doesn’t really mean “Prime Meat”?
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And what’s with THESE? Am I wrong to think that “drunk, drunker, drunkest” is a less than charming side of host life?
Sheesh, leave me some illusions, will ya?
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Jonelle Patrick is the author of Fallen Angel.
In the secret underworld of Tokyo’s host clubs and hostess bars, everyone’s got a secret they might kill to protect.
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The #1 hostboy at Club Nova makes a handsome living, whispering sweet nothings in the ears of women who pay him a fortune for the privilege. But the party’s over when…Read more
December 21, 2016
The Drunken Pet Vending Machine
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So, today I came home and found THIS. I don’t know what kind of shenanigans YOUR gacha-gacha toys get up to when they’re alone in the house, but…
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These adorable animals are available at the Drunken Pet vending machine for just ¥200 each!
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Jonelle Patrick is the author of a mystery series set in Tokyo. The newest one was just released, and you don’t have to have read the others to enjoy it!
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It’s been ten years since the night his mother never made it home, but now Tokyo Detective Kenji Nakamura’s life is about to unravel…read more
…or watch the one-minute book trailer
December 16, 2016
The Werewolf Shrine
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High on top of a snowy mountain in Chichibu – so far from any train station that you’ll be eligible for a senior citizen discount by the time you get off the bus – is the Mitsumine Jinja. At first it looks like a typical Shinto shrine with fox messengers at the gate…
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…but a closer look reveals the resident messengers-of-the-gods to be WEREWOLVES!
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And how can you tell it’s a werewolf? Because it looks like a dog, but it NEVER skips abs day at the gym. EVER.
Unlike the shapeshifting Western versions who could use a good back hair waxing, oh-kami – the Japanese spirits that can take the form of men or wolves –are known for choosing to either devour lost travelers or lead them safely home. (So, uh, if you’ve chosen a career as an evildoer? Best not to take a shortcut on that deserted road through the mountains JUST SAYIN)
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Write a wish on the back of these ema to ask the oh-kami to lead you out of your own particular muddle. They also specialize in curing loneliness.
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Dog guardians are everywhere you’d expect to see foxes
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Hey! You! Wash your hands before you toss those coins in the offering box! Sheesh, were you raised by wolves?
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If the water at the purifying station is frozen (as it’s likely to be, at a shrine perched on a remote mountaintop in Saitama-ken during the winter) you can swish these wands made of cedar shavings over your hands instead
The most mysterious thing about the Mitsumine Shrine is that despite its seriously off-the-beaten-path location, the oh-kami do not seem to lack for generous donor action. Apparently, this is because the shrine is a renowned “power spot” (like the Fox Shrine To End All Fox Shrines in Kamakura) and it attracts boatloads of pilgrims with the spring thaw.
Check out how beautifully these buildings are restored!
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The shrine itself was founded over 2,000 years ago, and there are carvings inside that date from the 1400s. The buildings themselves were constructed in the 1800s.
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Want to visit the Mitsumine Jinja the next time you’re in Japan? It’s not easy, but it’s not impossible either. The best way is to drive (the Chichibu area is in Saitama prefecture, and it takes about two hours from metro Tokyo) but you can also take the Seibu Testsudo train to Chichibu Station, then get on an express bus from there to the Mitsumine Shrine.
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Jonelle Patrick is the author of a mystery series set in Tokyo. The newest one was just released, and you don’t have to have read the others to enjoy it!
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It’s been ten years since the night his mother never made it home, but now Tokyo Detective Kenji Nakamura’s life is about to unravel…read more
December 8, 2016
Top Ten Crazy Holiday Gifts From Japan 2016
Yes, it’s that time of year again, when you comb your list of friends & family for those who truly deserve that rare and awe-inspiring gift from Japan…
10. If there’s nobody on your list who needs a MANEATING VAMPIRE PURSE, you need to make new friends.
Nom…nom…nom. Spotted this at Design Festa, but it’s also available at malicious.fashionstore.jp
9. CUTEST WASHCLOTHS OF ALL TIME! Who could fail to smile after ripping the wrapping off one of these?
Found at the shop in the underground mall near the Marunouchi Line entrance to Shinjuku Station
8. Give the gift of wowing friends & family with foamy bears, cats, and replicas of Michelangelo’s David* with this 3D LATTE MAKER
*Expert Level (From Yodabashi Camera in Akihabara)
7. The gift of RUG
Augment those natural tresses with this golf hat toupee. (Can be ordered from the gift catalog on the bullet train)
6. Every avid cat butt collector already has a handcrafted feline tookus pincushion, but you’ll definitely be the first to gift them a CAT BUTT REFRIGERATOR MAGNET
A butt for every breed. (Saw these at Design Festa, but the artist can be found at http://ameblo.jp/catsgirl-2005)
5. You know the corporate warrior on your list secretly craves a SAMURAI BASEBALL CAP
Tokyu Hands, you never fail to delight. Saw these at the Ikebukuro store.
4. Know someone who inexplicably craves stinky, slimy soybeans, but can’t find them at their local market? Voila, the DIY NATTO MAKER
Naturally, this unlikely appliance is sold at Tokyu Hands (Shinjuku store)
3. For the person on your list who has way too many cold pencils – the MUMMY BAG PENCIL CASE will be just the ticket
Ours is not to reason why. (The Loft store in Shibuya can supply you with a variety of colors to match any decor.)
2. Or really make things easy on yourself and just give everyone a STATUETTE OF YOURSELF
You do have to get yourself to the Loft store in Shibuya to get your 3D photo snapped, but once your bits are in the system, you can get an army of yourself 3D printed. Jumbo size for your mom, pocket size for your Significant Other, dog toy size for your pooch. Done, done, and DONE.
1. And finally, for the most impossible person on your list: the one-size-delights-and-baffles-all INFLATABLE GEISHA WIG
Because only someone unworthy of your friendship would fail to appreciate THIS (Available at the souvenir shops on the street parallel to Nakamise-dori, in Asakusa)
And if you’re not able to comb the streets of Tokyo to snap up these lovelies before the holidays, you can always give the Japan-lovers on your list a new mystery set in Tokyo…
It’s been ten years since the night she never made it home, but now Tokyo Detective Kenji Nakamura’s life is about to unravel…read more
…or watch the trailer (1:05)
…or give all four! Browse them here
December 3, 2016
Sneakly McPeekly!
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So, if you’re even slightly interested in escapist fiction set in Japan…
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…I’ve got a new book coming out on Monday (December 5th)!
Here’s the one-minute book trailer…
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…and just for you, my blogtastic friend, a pre-publication look at the first few chapters
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PAINTED DOLL, 340 pages, published by Bancroft & Greene, Publishers LLC
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THURSDAY, DECEMBER 4
A pillow of white capped her gravestone, the first snow of winter.
He frowned at the dead flowers. Brown heads forever bowed, the dried chrysanthemum stalks shivered in the wind. Didn’t her family care enough to keep them fresh? He lifted the withered stems from their stone vases and set them aside, then drew a stick of incense from his pocket. His hands were cold. It took him two tries with the lighter before a thread of smoke curled toward the leaden sky. He poked it through the icy crust on the altar.
Uncapping the bottle of water he’d bought at the vending machine down the street, he emptied it over her gravestone. The snow dissolved, leaving the pale granite beneath bare and gleaming. Setting the empty bottle carefully on the ground, he drew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and stripped off the wrapper. Placing one between his lips, he held the flame to the tip, closed his eyes, and tasted the harsh tobacco that reminded him of that day. Taking it from his mouth, he laid it next to the smoldering incense, watching as the twin streams of smoke mingled and twisted toward heaven.
Sinking to his knees, he folded his hands, wincing at the twinge that was new since the last time he’d knelt on this patch of cold ground.
Nine years, he thought. Nine death anniversaries. Tomorrow would be the tenth. He always came early, so he wouldn’t cross paths with the remnants of her family. He always came on the day he’d actually killed her.
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WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 1
Kenji Nakamura stepped off the train onto the Tabata Station platform and felt an icy finger of winter slip through a gap in his hastily wound muffler. The platform at this stop was deserted, even though it was New Year’s Eve. Actually, he corrected himself, New Year’s Day. Midnight was long gone.
Beyond the sheltering roof, snow now plummeted down in earnest. He stopped to unwind the old gray scarf that had been his mother’s last gift before she died. Gritting his teeth against the chill, he shook it out and put it on more carefully, stuffing the ends inside his coat and buttoning it up a notch. The button came off in his hand. He frowned, dropping it into his pocket. He needed a new winter coat, but shopping was such a chore—the largest size of the Japanese brands was too short for him, the foreign styles cut too wide.
The platform’s warning bell rang and the train pulled away, riffling Kenji’s hair and leaving a maelstrom of snowflakes spinning crazily in its wake. He shoved his hands into his pockets and began trudging toward the exit at the end of the long platform. How could it turn so cold, so fast? Six hours ago, he and Yumi had shared an umbrella, not letting a little rain dampen their giddiness that she was free at last. Her engagement to the man she’d met through an arranged marriage o-miai had officially ended yesterday.
Now they could be together, the way he’d dreamed of since the day his third grade teacher stood her up in front of the class and introduced the new girl from America. He should be with her right now. He should never have returned that missed call.
Just his luck, this was the one time a year that trains ran all night. If there had been no easy way to get to his father before morning, he would still be snug in his warm futon, with Yumi by his side, maybe even finishing what they’d . . . . Well, after last night, he was sure there would be other nights. They didn’t have to rush things. He smiled, remembering how she had tucked herself in even closer to him after she fell asleep.
Stepping onto the escalator, he let it bear him up toward the south exit, then beeped his way through the turnstile without slowing. Feathery patches of snow began to spot his coat as soon as he left the protection of the overhang. Angling himself against the wind, he set out for the police box manned by his father on this loneliest of nights.
Even the most far-flung families reunited for the holidays, but ever since Kenji’s mother had died ten years ago, his father had volunteered for duty every New Year’s Eve, on the one night a year that nobody wanted to be at work.
It wasn’t an accident.
That’s what his father had said on the phone tonight. How could he suddenly know—after all these years, in the middle of the night—that Kenji’s mother’s death hadn’t been an accident?
If it wasn’t an accident, what was it? It hadn’t been suicide. The investigation had ruled that out. And it couldn’t have been a crime. Kenji knew about crime. As a police detective, crime was his business. But crimes were something that happened to other people, people who put themselves in harm’s way, people who invited bad luck upon themselves. Crimes didn’t happen to policemen’s wives. Crimes didn’t happen to policemen’s mothers.
Crossing the street by the pachinko parlor, head down, clumps of falling snow pelted his face and melted as soon as they hit. An icy trickle ran through his hair and down his neck. He should have grabbed his dad’s old felt hat before he left. He trudged up the hill, squinting into the wind. Two more blocks.
Why had his dad dropped this on him now? His mother had died ten years ago. In a train accident. A not-accident.
Sergeant Nakamura had been working the graveyard shift that night, too. He’d come home the next morning to find his wife’s slippers lined up neatly at the edge of the tatami and an empty space in the shoe cupboard where her winter boots usually sat. There was no note, so he hadn’t worried. No note meant she’d be back soon, that she’d gone out to do something that wasn’t worth an explanation. That she’d be back before the family woke up and realized she was gone.
Kenji’s father had gone to bed thinking nothing was amiss, but when he awoke in the early afternoon, he’d found both sons sitting in the kitchen, strangely silent and more than a little hungry. Two half-finished bowls of rice sat on the table, every grain still rock-hard in the center. Even though Kenji and his older brother were in high school, they still hadn’t known how much water to put in the rice cooker. The refrigerator was filled to bursting, but they hadn’t dared touch the plastic-wrapped trays that their mother had made for her upcoming high school reunion, the ones papered in sticky notes scribbled with “DO NOT EAT!”
Sergeant Nakamura had phoned his sister first. His wife had gone out early, he said, but wasn’t back yet. Had Sachiko stopped by to see Ayako and her family, by any chance? No, sorry, they hadn’t seen her, but tell her thanks for recommending the new acupuncturist. Uncle’s headaches were much better.
Next, his dad began calling the rest of the relatives, then friends, then everyone he could think of. By the time he slowly hung up the phone for the last time, worry had replaced the irritation that she hadn’t returned in time to make breakfast for the boys.
Then Kenji remembered the note that had been stuck to the dinner plate his mother had left on the table for him last night. He dug through the trash to retrieve it. Sorry, had to run out for a bit and take something to one of my high school friends. They all looked at each other. Who were her friends? None of them had ever stopped to wonder how Sachiko Nakamura occupied herself, in between the cooking and cleaning and washing that kept their lives running smoothly.
Her friends’ numbers would be on her phone, wouldn’t they? Kenji asked. They searched for it, but it was gone, along with her purse.
They didn’t know what to do next. None of them could remember her saying anything about helping a neighbor or getting in line early for a sale. Of course, that didn’t really mean anything—every day she told them plenty of things that went in one ear and out the other.
I’m running out to the store to buy some fish for dinner.
I think I’ll get you some new socks on the shopping street. They’re having a sale.
I’ll be a little late, because I’m picking up Mrs. Kimura’s prescription for her.
And then the phone rang. A female accident victim had been found near the tracks of the Toyoko Line. Kenji’s father went to the hospital alone, to identify the body that had been spotted by a hungover high school student on his way to weekend basketball practice. The local police were conducting an investigation. Two days later, they’d pronounced it an accident.
It wasn’t an accident.
Kenji turned the corner at the top of the hill and saw the police box ahead, its wide front window glowing like a beacon for lost children and victims of minor crimes. Every neighborhood had a koban like this, manned by officers who knew everyone on their patch by name, thanks to the visits they made twice a year to update the particulars of each household. The police box officers were as much a part of everyday life as the mailman, consulted not only if you wanted to report a crime, but also if you needed directions to the new café, had lost your cat, or found a dropped glove on the street.
As a boy, Kenji had always stopped to look at the wanted posters on the bulletin board outside, wondering what bungles had caused a fugitive to be missing joints on both pinky fingers, or why a suspected murderer had only three remaining teeth. But tonight he didn’t even glance at the sketches as he strode past, slowing only as he approached the door of the narrow stucco-clad building with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police’s bronze star over the door. Through the window, he could see his father seated behind a wide metal desk, official notices tacked to the wall beside him. A well-thumbed book of local maps sat neatly squared on the corner of the desk. The gold buttons on his uniform gleamed, and his hat was firmly settled on his graying brush-cut hair.
But tonight Sergeant Nakamura wasn’t sitting ramrod straight, he was hunched over a red clay teacup, staring into its depths. It was one of the pair he and his wife had bought on their honeymoon.
He looked up as Kenji pushed through the door. He wasn’t alone.
“Happy New Year, Ken-kun.” A man with sad eyes bowed from the doorway to the back room.
Kenji returned the bow, recognizing his father’s longtime poker crony, who had just retired in November.
“Happy New Year to you, too, Officer Toyama.”
It was the first time Kenji had seen the ex-policeman out of uniform. In his plaid flannel shirt and fleece sweatpants, he looked . . . smaller. Had Toyama-san shrunk? Kenji remembered him from boyhood, an imposing figure who always had a riddle for the boss’s son and would fish a piece of candy from his pocket if Kenji guessed right.
“What are you doing here in the middle of the night, Toyama-san?” Kenji asked, pulling the door shut behind him.
“He came with me,” said a voice Kenji hadn’t heard since high school. A younger version of Officer Toyama appeared behind his father.
“Sho-sempai! Happy New Year.”
Mr. Toyama’s son returned the greeting with the same lopsided grin he’d worn when their high school baseball team won the division championship. Sho had been Kenji’s mentor, his sempai—a senior pitcher when Kenji was a first-year rookie. Sho was shorter, but made up for it by being built like a brick wall. As expected, Toyama Junior had followed in his father’s footsteps and gone straight to the police academy after graduation.
“You still working out of Saitama Station?” Kenji asked.
“No, they transferred me to Shinjuku two months ago.” He grimaced. “Just in time for the quake.”
Ten days ago, a 7.9 temblor had given Tokyo a severe shaking. Every division was still working around the clock to deal with the criminals who had been caught with their pants down in the chaos that followed.
“And actually, that’s why I’m here,” Sho explained. “I was one of the locals assigned to help bag and tag a scene for the First Investigative Division after a warehouse in East Shinjuku collapsed.”
“Why were the big boys involved in an earthquake accident?” Kenji asked. The First Investigative Division was only called in to take over when an incident turned into a major crime: extortion, robbery, rape, murder.
Sho snorted. “It turned out that the janitorial service headquartered in the building was storing more than mops and wax there. A bunch of illegal Chinese girls were locked in a back room, and one was in the wrong place at the wrong time when a stack of crates fell. The scumbags moved her body outside, trying to make it look like an accident, and a patrol officer caught them dumping her purse and passport into a storm drain. When we searched what was left of the building, we discovered the traffickers had stripped the girls of everything they owned, and locked their stuff in a storeroom marked ‘Toxic, Keep Out,’ along with a couple of crates of Chinese handguns. At the very back, we found . . . that.”
He nodded toward a small suitcase sitting beside the front door. Cobwebby and coated with dust, it had once been dark blue. “Inspector Mori got pretty excited when he opened it up. He made me take it to the crime lab right away. Said it was tied to a case he’d worked on ten years ago.”
Ten years ago.
“What kind of case?” Kenji asked, suddenly uneasy.
“Don’t know, except that it’s an unsolved.”
So it couldn’t be his mother’s death. That had been ruled an accident. It wasn’t an accident.
Kenji turned to his dad. “But what does this suitcase have to do with Mom?”
His father’s frown grew deeper.
Sho answered for him. “Inspector Mori wasn’t actually interested in the bag—it was the passport and stuff packed inside he wanted. But they found a receipt for three bus tour tickets in one of the side pockets, along with a luggage tag that had your mom’s name on it. He figured the bag belonged to her, asked me to return it when the lab boys were done with it.”
Kenji raised an eyebrow at his father.
“It’s hers,” Sergeant Nakamura admitted. “She bought it right before she went on that damn trip to the Ise Shrine with her old high school friends.”
“And . . . ?”
His dad scowled. “Mori wants me to come in, ask me a bunch of questions that I won’t know the answers to. He’s going to try to make this into something it’s not.”
“Hey, now,” Mr. Toyama chided. “Just because Mori-san wants you to come in and talk to him about that suitcase doesn’t mean Sachiko’s death was anything but an accident. Sho said it was only the stuff inside he was interested in. Who knows how some illegal Chinese girl ended up with that bag? Maybe your sister gave it away after the funeral, and didn’t realize there was anything still in it that belonged to your wife.”
Sergeant Nakamura shook his head, unconvinced.
Kenji crossed the small room to stand before his dad’s desk. “There’s only one way to find out,” he said. “When you go see Inspector Mori, I’m going with you.”
•
Kenji’s father shot to his feet, scooping up his empty cup, said something about getting more tea. But when he got to the back room, he dropped his cup on the counter by the hot water pot and detoured to the toilet instead, pulling the door shut with a bang. Flipping the lock, he spun around and braced himself on the sink, hung his head, breathing hard.
Get a grip, Nakamura. Breathe. Breathe. In, two, three, four, hold it, two, three, four, out, two, three, four. Again. Again. Slower. Again. He straightened and raised his chin, draining the tears back inside. Manly sniff. Clear. Swallow. Good. He frowned into the mirror, grateful to the sensei who had taught him to control his weaknesses. He’d hated the old bastard for how he’d done it, but he’d never have become the man he was without that unforgiving taskmaster. Certainly never would have made it through the police academy. And if he’d never made it through the Academy, he never would have married Sachiko.
That first day at the koban—filling out her missing bicycle report as slowly as possible, giving himself time to think of a way to see her again—she’d told him her father had been a sergeant at the police box on the other side of the train station. That her uncle was a beat cop in Chiba.
For a long time, he’d figured that was why a tall, sparkly girl like Sachiko had chosen a quiet, solid guy like him—she came from a family of cops. It wasn’t until they were arguing over how to handle the bullying that Kenji’s brother Takeo started getting in first grade, that he realized how determined Sachi was to raise a family that was nothing like the one she grew up in. She’d agreed to let him find Takeo a judo teacher, and he’d agreed to let her have a quiet word with the bullies’ moms and find someone to help Takeo with his stutter. Something had worked, because both the bullying and the stuttering had stopped, and they still got New Years postcards from the bullies’ families.
Twisting the cold water faucet, he splashed water on his face, rubbing it dry with the towel he’d brought from home, freshly laundered for the new year. Sachi had always insisted they start the year right: house clean, debts paid, apologies made. She’d always tried to do the right thing. And so had he. Until the day she died, he’d tried his damndest to be everything she wanted him to be.
Fear clamped his chest again. Sho told him that Mori had found clothes, makeup and a metallic blue Nikon CoolPix camera inside that suitcase. They didn’t know that was the same kind of camera Sachi had owned, the one that had never reappeared after her death.
Breathe, dammit, breathe. He slumped over the sink. Fucking Mori. He had to stop Kenji from coming to that meeting. Couldn’t let his son hear the questions the Inspector would ask, the same questions he’d been asked ten years ago. The questions he’d pretended he didn’t know the answers to.
•
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You can enjoy Painted Doll even if you haven’t read the first three books in the series, but if you’re feeling the need to escape to Tokyo right this very second, there’s plenty of Japanese underworld goodness already waiting for you. Click on the photo below to read blurbs and watch trailers for Nightshade, Fallen Angel & Idolmaker
