Читать книгу Murder at the Tokyo Lawn & Tennis Club - Robert J. Collins - Страница 19

CHAPTER 12

Kawamura and his wife sat on the floor around the low table in their living room. The two children, a boy and a girl, each occupied one of the two bedrooms in the apartment. Rock music, separate and competing, boomed from each room.

"Of course they were disappointed," said Noriko Kawamura. "We've been promising them a trip to Disneyland for months."

"I apologize, but this, ah, new case, requires immediate attention."

"Remember, their school summer vacation is only a few weeks, and..."

"I know, I know," said Kawamura, holding up his glass as his wife poured beer from the bottle, "a promise made is a debt unpaid. When this is over, I'll be able to take a few days off."

"Is it a difficult case?"

Kawamura never discussed the details of his police work with his wife for various reasons. For example, he explained the loss of his little fingernail by saying he caught it in the car door. To tell the absolute truth, and to spread the anguish of the three-week waiting period after the test for HIV to his family, was too much. He did take the entire family out to dinner on the evening the test results came back negative, and explained his jubilation as being the result of a meritorious citation.

But Noriko was level-headed and always displayed common sense. Talking in general about his work, or at least the puzzles in his work, would often develop a fresh and neutral point of view.

"Someone killed a man without any enemies at a tennis club," said Kawamura.

'There is no one without enemies."

"Well, that's what we'll probably find out, but in the meantime it seems more like a sudden crime of passion."

"I would think there are better places to kill someone than in a place with all kinds of people around," said Noriko as she rose and began to pick up the dirty dishes on the table.

'That's why we think it's probably a sudden crime of passion."

"Or," said Noriko over her shoulder as she took the dishes into the small kitchen, "it was done to prove something about the tennis club."

Kawamura was still staring at the blank television screen when Noriko returned to the living room.

"If you don't mind," she said, "I'd like to go to bed early. I'm exhausted. Shall I prepare your bath?"

"Ah, no, I think I'll just take a shower tonight. What did you do today?" asked Kawamura.

'Took the kids to Ueno Zoo."

"Did you feed the birds?"

"Yes," said Noriko to her husband the detective, "how did you know?"