After listening in on Patrick and Miyuki, Hiroshi left the rest to Takamatsu, Sugamo, and Osaki, and hurried back to his office. His cellphone was full of messages from Ayana, each with a rising sense of urgency. She sent him a copy of her speech five times. The last message told him to just show up.
It was six-thirty. The wedding banquet started at seven. He could maybe make it in time to hear her deliver her speech, but he was dressed like a slob. He’d have to risk it. He could at least sneak in and stand at the back, then escape and call her from outside.
He caught a taxi outside the station, told the driver the address, and asked him to hurry.
The driver looked in the rearview mirror. “Not your wedding, is it?”
Hiroshi looked up, startled. “My girlfriend’s giving a speech. I was supposed to help her but was too busy with work.”
When the light changed, the driver accelerated into traffic. “I’ll get you there.”
“And I forgot to get an envelope for the goshugi.” To fail to congratulate the bride and groom with a gift of money in a special envelope would be worse than going in the wrong clothes, worse than not going at all.
“There’s a convenience store up ahead.” The driver changed lanes, pulled to the curb, and opened the automatic door.
Hiroshi ran inside and found the shelf of last-minute necessities. He grabbed a fancy envelope for weddings and a white tie, and dashed to the cashier. He realized he didn’t have any clean bills to put inside the envelope. He asked the cashier if the store kept clean ten-thousand-yen notes, but the clerk just stared at him.
He paid and hurried back to the taxi.
“Do you have any clean bills?” Hiroshi asked the driver. Dirty used bills in a wedding envelope was taboo.
The driver handed his money bag back to Hiroshi. “Look in here.”
“This is your money bag.”
“You’re a cop, aren’t you? That’s where I picked you up.”
“Criminals exit there too. Not to mention lawyers.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Hiroshi selected three crisp, clean ten-thousand-yen notes. “I can give you back a wrinkled ten- and one- and five-thousand-yen notes to replace them.”
“I need the small ones for change anyway.”
Hiroshi replaced the amount and slipped the ten-thousand-yen bills inside the inner envelope. “Do you have a pen?”
The driver laughed and handed him a pen kept in the visor. “Are all cops this disorganized?”
“Just before weddings.” Hiroshi wrote his name on the inner envelope and tucked it inside the thick outer washi envelope. It took him a minute to replace the intricate bow tied with glitzy gold, red, and white string in the shape of a crane.
The taxi driver kept going at a swift pace. “A taxi driver friend of mine used to keep an extra white tie for weddings and a black tie for funerals.”
“People forget ties that often?”
“Yeah. Not just cops.”
“I haven’t been to a wedding in a while.”
“Neither have I, though my daughter just got married.”
“Congratulations! Was it a big wedding?”
“There wasn’t one.”
“What?”
“She and her husband decided not to waste a lot of money on a lavish ceremony.”
“Is that a trend now?”
“It should be.”
“You raised her right. Sensible.”
“She asked everyone to let her invest the five or six million yen a ceremony costs, and dropped it all into stocks and bonds. I don’t understand it, but compound interest adds up over the years.”
“It definitely does.”
“She didn’t want to end up having to drive a taxi after retirement like me.”
“There are worse retirements. You get to help out rattled detectives.”
The driver laughed. “You can help me if I end up with a speeding ticket.”
When he got out at the wedding hall, Hiroshi offered him a tip, but the driver refused it. Hiroshi set the bill on the front passenger seat and hopped out before he could hand it back.
He ran down a graceful stone pathway to the elaborate white door. The name of the wedding hall, “Maison de Blanc,” was done in curlicue metal and lit by soft spotlights. Ivy covered the white brick walls.
Hiroshi pulled open the door with a sense of dread. Was he really going in dressed like this? He hurried to the registration counter to sign in and hand over the envelope with the cash gift.
At the reception desk, two women, probably friends of the bride, smiled in welcome. They wore clingy, sheath dresses and sported sweeping hairdos pinned with flowers.
“Are you Hiroshi Shimizu?” One of the women asked, amused.
“Yes, I am. How—”
The other woman dug behind a curtain and pulled out a garment bag from a rack of coats.
“Your wife—”
“Girlfriend.”
“—left it for you.”
Hiroshi looked inside. She’d brought him wedding clothes. “Where can I change?”
“I’ll show you.” She walked him to a room with “Groom” on the outside.
Hiroshi slipped inside to change. Ayana brought him a dark-blue, almost black, jacket and navy slacks. The white wedding tie she’d bought was better than the one from the convenience store. He left the bag with his cruddy clothes at the coat check, and hurried to the double doors of the wedding hall.
Inside, one of the wait staff handed him a seating chart, menu, and schedule printed on thick paper. The banquet hall was cavernous. Fake stars covered the ceiling. Twenty-some round tables seated eight to ten people each.
Wait staff scurried around with plates of food and bottles of wine and beer. The room was dark with spotlights shining on the front podium where the newlyweds sat at a flower-draped table in front of a screen of glittering gold.
The couple, and everyone else, were listening to a woman at a small podium on the stage.
It was Ayana, in an indigo dress, her hair pinned up in thick swirls. She was talking into the microphone with all eyes on her. Hiroshi was too stunned to think of taking a photo.
Everyone in the hall was laughing at what she said. The newlyweds giggled and held hands, the groom in a tuxedo and the bride in a lavish white dress. They must have already changed from traditional Japanese wedding clothes.
One of the wait staff came over with the seating chart and offered to show him to his seat. Hiroshi told her he didn’t want to sit down just yet, but he would love a beer. She came back with a glass of beer held in both white-gloved hands. Hiroshi drained it in one go. Another waiter refilled it immediately.
After another glass and refill, Hiroshi thought he might as well sneak to his chair while Ayana was still talking. Another of the wait staff led him to his seat at the front table.
He unfolded his thick cloth napkin and nodded politely at Ayana’s colleagues. A waitress brought the first two courses for him. Everyone else was on the third course. Ayana’s food sat untouched beside him. Hiroshi forked in the salad and scallop gratin. A waiter came over and poured champagne and red wine for him.
At the podium, Ayana delivered her speech like an actress, pausing at the right places to deliver the most important lines. The groom, red-faced with drink, took the hand of the bride, who touched a lacy white handkerchief to her misty eyes as the hall echoed with laughter and applause.
Ayana came to the end and walked over to give the bride a hug, tears streaming down both of their faces. Everyone let out a collective “Awww,” before breaking into sustained applause.
Ayana bowed, pirouetted off the stage, and returned to her seat, giving Hiroshi a hard stare before joining in the continued applause.
Hiroshi knew he was in for it. He waved to the wait staff for more wine and put his arm around Ayana’s bare shoulders, which had sparkles on them. He reached for her hand under the tablecloth, but couldn’t find it. He touched her thigh but she pulled it aside.
The MC stepped to the podium, thanked Ayana, and introduced the next speaker, the best friend of the groom. As the handsome young man bounded to the dais, Ayana whispered, “Come with me.”
When Ayana got up, one of the wait staff hurried to pull out her chair. Hiroshi followed her out of the hall. At the main door, a waiter cradling a bottle of wine circled to the side to hold the door open with a deep bow.
Ayana hurried toward the women’s toilet without a word. She rushed in leaving him outside the door.
From inside, he heard Ayana vomiting, retching in loud heaves.
“Ayana? Are you OK?” He heard water running, Ayana rinsing her mouth, and spitting.
After a quiet minute, Ayana pulled the door open. “I will never forgive you for this.”
Hiroshi braced himself for the worst. Before he could say anything, Ayana pulled him inside and threw her arms around him. She raised up on her high heels and kissed him hard, backing him against the wall.
Hiroshi kissed back. He had no choice. She turned so she could lean back and wrap her legs around him. The flower in her hair fell out. He leaned hard into her, stretching her sheer silk one-piece dress.
Ayana moaned, and he moved a hand to her breast and kissed her neck, but the door opened and a woman let out a startled, “Eh? Gomen nasai.”
The door slammed shut, and Ayana laughed, keeping her hands clasped behind his neck. “My dress is wrinkled.”
Hiroshi put his hands around the small of her waist. “We better…” Hiroshi pointed at the door.
“Better what?” She kissed him again, pulling him closer with his white tie.
Hiroshi didn’t want to pull away. “Ayana…?”
She pulled back. “What?”
“Does this mean you forgive me?”
“For now.” She reset the straps on her dress and turned to the mirror to straighten her hair. Hiroshi tried to help get the flower back in her hair, but she waved him away and did it herself.
Hiroshi straightened his tie. “You remembered everything except my shoes.”
Ayana looked down at Hiroshi’s running shoes. “Oh, my.” She laughed.
Hiroshi retucked his shirt and tightened his belt. He thought of the cold water of the river to dial his passion down, and straightened his pants.
Ayana surveyed him, brushed his clothes and hair, and rose for a kiss. She pulled back and touched his cheek. “What is that? Blue dye?”
“I’ll explain later.”
They inspected themselves side by side in the mirror. Hiroshi felt like he could stand there forever.
They walked out acting dignified. Ayana offered a terse “Sumimasen” to the two women still waiting outside.
Hiroshi held the door for them, and they giggled and hurried in.
“I want you to meet my colleagues,” Ayana said as they walked over the marble floor to the hall. “Is that OK?”
“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”
“No, you’re here to be with me. The food’s tasty too.”
“You didn’t eat anything.” Hiroshi stopped at the door to the wedding hall and looked into Ayana’s eyes. “Your nausea. Are you OK?”
“Just nervousness.” Ayana took his hand as he pulled open the door. “I think.”