I returned to the house an hour later to find Mom pulling out the summer futons and setting them up in the dining room for our guests. Ichiro was outside kicking his soccer ball around, and Aya was trying to help Mom without being in the way. She bowed to me as I entered the house and tossed my shoes to the side. It was another day that felt like a year long, and I still had plenty to do.
“I’m going to boil water for tea. Would you like some?” I figured tea was a good way to mend the fences from my earlier outburst.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, bowing again. “Is everything okay?”
“Not really.” My voice was dry and sarcastic, and Mom rolled her eyes at me. “I’m sure someday everything will be fine again. Don’t worry about it.”
In the kitchen, I filled up the electric kettle and set it to boil. Leaning against the kitchen counter, I pulled the thumb drive from my pocket. On this little piece of plastic laid clues to how I could get Yasahiro out of this mess. I flipped it back and forth between my fingers, a blur of gray. Would I regret what I saw here? Setting it down on the island, I imagined myself taking a knife to it, chopping it into little pieces, destroying the evidence that could either save us or rip us apart. Akai said I would be pleased with what she found, but she didn’t know me. She didn’t know my greatest fears.
And my greatest fear was contingent on whatever happened next. I feared I’d never catch another break like this — a successful guy who I loved and loved me back, a new career I thought would carry me into retirement, and helping Mom with the house and family farm, both of which I stood to inherit someday. All of that could be taken away from me if this scandal pulled me under too. I was in danger of losing everything.
I brought my tea to my room and took a long sip before plugging the thumb drive into my computer. Akai had organized the data into a dozen or more folders, texts, email, chats, photos, and documents amidst several others including her voicemail. Amanda’s digital life was laid bare in front of me.
Where to start?
Perhaps with the folder that was labeled START HERE. I chuckled as I opened it and found a note from Akai. “Open the other file in this folder labeled ‘Contacts.’ This is her entire address book and will help you match up names to numbers. If a file is nothing but gibberish, let me know. Sometimes my program messes up and processes binary files as text files.”
Opening the Contacts file, a stream of names and numbers cascaded before me, a few hundred lines long. I kept it open and to the side so I could search it when I needed to.
I clicked on the documents folder, hoping to find drafts of her book there, and I did. I supposed I could download it in Japanese from Amazon Japan, but why should I when I had her original words right here? I set that aside and would skim it before bed later.
Her texts were next. Akai had put all the texts into separate text documents labeled by phone number. I didn’t recognize any of them besides Yasahiro’s so I opened that first.
“I’m waiting for you.”
“You’re late. You know how annoying that is for me.”
“Fine. You didn’t show so I’m coming to you.”
Three texts, all from Amanda to Yasahiro, and no return texts from him. Surely the police would see that was good? He hadn’t returned her texts. He hadn’t called her either, I didn’t think. I clicked out of the folder and found her call log. No. She’d called him once or twice, but he hadn’t picked up, and he’d never called her.
Oh! What about those calls when she only heard birds? I pinpointed the time she was at Mom’s house on Saturday and the incoming phone logs were no help. “Private caller.” Great. But birds? Maybe the person calling had called from the woods.
Regardless of that dead end, I was feeling confident about having this data. I returned to the texts folder and opened file after file. I found texts between her and her agent, her parents, and services that were texting her with things like flight itineraries, salon appointments, and doctor checkups. Then I found the file of texts with Shōta Kimura. I scrolled backward through time till I came upon…
Shōta, “I don’t think we’re the right fit. Your book was very explicit about our love life, and my family finds the whole thing distasteful.”
Amanda, “Well, I won’t allow you to just walk away from me.”
Him, “You don’t really have a choice.”
Amanda, “Are you telling me you’re going to fight me on this? I could ruin you if you don’t keep up appearances.”
Him, “I’m prepared for the worst. It would be hard on my family, but I see there’s no stopping you.”
Amanda, “At least you understand who’s in charge. Or maybe you don’t.”
My eyes were wide as I scrolled back to figure out what they were fighting about. But they hadn’t messaged anything before that conversation besides confirming meetings with him like, “Meet you at 17:00.”
After that threatening message, Amanda had texted him three more times on Friday, not long after she ambushed Yasahiro at Sawayaka. She had checked in with Shōta to see where he was and what he was doing, but he didn’t respond.
My brain swirled with ideas. Maybe she had exacted some kind of revenge on him and he lashed back by killing her. But he had been at the retreat all weekend, so he had no opportunity even if he had a cryptic motive I didn’t understand yet.
I clicked through another few text files before I came upon Giselle.
Amanda, “I’m in Tokyo! Was going to hit up Robert for a good time. Lol.”
Giselle, “I hate you.”
Amanda, “No you don’t. You love me.”
Her, “Go to hell.”
Amanda, “Only if you’re going with me.” She added on a kissing smiley face to that one. “See you at drinks later.”
Giselle never responded after that. Damn. Amanda was fierce with her attitude. I checked the calendar again and her “drinks later” must have been after her book launch party on Friday night. Did she fit in drinks with Giselle and Robert after her party and before she came to Chikata and was attacked?
Then I found texts with Robert.
Robert, “Of course I want to see you. It’s been ages.”
Amanda, “You’ll have to find some way to get away from Giselle. Maybe meet up at the Hilton?”
Him, “I’ll handle it. We’ll have drinks together and then I’ll leave Giselle at our hotel then meet you.”
Amanda, “I love it. I can’t wait for you to…”
And I averted my eyes from the screen as Amanda described graphic sexual content that made me blush. Wow. People actually wrote that stuff to each other? I fanned my face and scanned the page to the end. They went back and forth a few times before she signed off, and they didn’t text again.
I combed through the rest of the texts and found nothing else worth noting. I had two solid suspects now between Shōta and Giselle, neither of which I had precise evidence on. With Shōta, I would have to figure out why they fought and if that was worth killing Amanda over. With Giselle, I would have to find out if Amanda and Robert ever met up alone in Tokyo, if Giselle knew about it, and if Giselle loved Robert enough to kill Amanda to keep her away. All of which meant I was betting on the fact that Robert was above board with Amanda, really wanted to get back together with her, and wasn’t just playing her.
Because I didn’t know these people at all. I had a grand total of one hour talking to them, not years of being their friend like Yasahiro had. And I couldn’t ask Yasahiro. Or could I?
I picked up the phone and debated either calling him or texting him. But I wanted to hear his voice. We hadn’t spoken at all since I ran out with the money and the stun gun. I dialed, and the line rang and rang, but he didn’t pick up.
I held the phone in my hand, my chest hurting with the sting of rejection. I needed to know we could be together if I solved the murder, or anyone solved it really. Goro and Kayo were still on the case as far as I knew, and I believed they would still fight for Yasahiro.
“Are you there? I need to talk to you,” I texted and then waited, my eyes glued on the screen.
“I’m here. But I think I may have to go through with our plans to separate. I’m sick about it. Really.”
I sighed, more weary than upset. “Please pick up your phone. I have to ask you about Giselle and Robert.”
My phone rang in my hand, his name blinking on the screen. “Mei?”
“I’m here. Thanks for picking up.” My voice was bitter, and I hated myself for it. This wasn’t his fault. “Sorry.”
“Don’t say sorry to me. I should be apologizing to you. I’ve totally ruined your life and —”
“Shhh.” I interrupted him. “It’ll be okay. I’m working on figuring everything out.”
“No. You should stay far away from me before I drag you down into this too,” he whispered into the phone, and I wondered who was there watching after him. Probably a police officer.
My face blushed with anger. “Listen here, Yasahiro. We are not breaking up over this nonsense, and I won’t hear that from you again!” My voice rose to a shout I was sure people in town could hear. “You said you loved me. Were you lying?”
“No.”
“Then stop this. I love you too, and I help the people I love. I don’t just drop them and abandon them when times are tough. And quite frankly, I’m annoyed that you’re doing that to me.”
He gasped. “Mei, I would never…”
“It’s what you just did, so don’t tell me you would never.”
I waited for him to respond, my leg bouncing with pent up energy and anger.
“You’re right. Of course, you’re right.” He let out a long breath. “If this were happening to you, I’d do the same. I’d help you.”
“Why is it so hard for you to let me help you?”
He paused, and I heard a door click in the background. Perhaps he was finding more privacy. “I don’t know.”
But he did know. I could hear it in his voice. He had been the stronger person in relationships, always helping out his girlfriends, until Amanda came along. He wasn’t used to this role, and it hurt his ego.
I didn’t want to hurt him.
I took a deep breath and tempered my voice. “You are a strong and talented person,” I said, stressing all the right words. “You’re kind and helpful, and together, we’re the best kind of team. So let me help now too.”
I wished I was there to see his face. Was he angry? Sad?
“Okay.” It was a meek okay, like it was caught in his throat, but it was what I needed.
“Now, I need to ask you about Giselle and Robert and Amanda.”
I told him about what I found in Amanda’s text messages, and he had the good sense not to ask me where I got the messages from. He probably figured Goro gave them to me, and I didn’t want to tell him how much I paid for the data, anyway.
“So, Robert and Amanda are still sleeping together? Huh.” I heard him humming under his breath while he considered this new information. “I didn’t see that coming, especially with a different boyfriend since she was with me.”
“I know. I found it surprising too. What do you think Giselle would do if she found out?”
“Well, she did once tell Robert she’d kill him if Amanda ever came between them again.”
I could imagine that. When lovers fought, and tensions were high, there was always someone in a relationship willing to commit violence to subdue the other person.
“And Robert did once say he would be better off if Giselle were dead. They have no prenup.”
I stared at the open text files on my computer. Giselle’s correspondence with Amanda was right next to her husband’s. I saw a triangle of egotistical and conniving people.
“So either one of them could have done it?”
“Could have killed Amanda? No. Well, I don’t know. I could believe either of them would kill the other, not Amanda.” He sounded frustrated. “You think you know a person, right? You go out to dinner with them, vacation with them, go into business with them. But then something like this happens, and it makes you question everything.”
I bit my lip, remembering how I questioned him when the police first held him. I didn’t believe he would kill her, and talking to him, I believed it even less. What could Amanda’s parents possibly have to say about Yasahiro to keep him in the list of suspects?
“Well, I guess I’ll have to consider them both as suspects.”
Yasahiro laughed. “Mei, how long is your list so far?”
I smiled, comforted by the change in his tone. “Let’s see, so far, I had Giselle, Robert, and Shōta Kimura, her ex-boyfriend.”
“And me?”
“Nope. I know you didn’t do it.”
“At least someone believes in me.”
I scrolled through more of the data Akai gave me as I sat with Yasahiro silent on the other end of the phone. I wanted to keep him there because it felt like he was sitting with me, next to me, like we were just hanging out on his couch.
Then I found another text message that didn’t line up with a contact in Amanda’s address book.
“Shōta wants to know when you’ll be done with your book signing. He’d like to see you.”
Amanda texted, “Who is this?”
“It’s Hiroshi.”
“I told you to stop contacting me. It’s weird. Just have Shōta text me himself.”
“He’s busy. That’s why he has me.” “Time?”
“I’m busy after the book signing. Tell him. He’ll have to see me some other time.”
I stared at Amanda’s texts. She told Hiroshi to stop contacting her? Why?
“Yasahiro, I have to go. Lots of reading and searching to do.”
“Of course. I…”
“What?”
“I was going to say that I hope to see you soon, but I have no idea what to expect from the next few days.”
“Me neither. But I will see you soon.”
We said goodbye to each other, and I set my phone aside.
I closed my eyes and tried to remember every detail of my brief chat with Hiroshi while Shōta spoke with Kayo in the food tent. He was nervous and upset about Shōta’s privacy, something I felt was a little out of the ordinary for a colleague or assistant.
I returned to the root of the thumb drive and found the download of Amanda’s camera roll from her phone. I dragged the folder to the image viewer app on my computer and paged backwards through her photos. The very last photo she took was the night of her book signing, one of her, Giselle, and Robert together at a rooftop beer garden in Tokyo. They were all dressed in coats and scarves because it’d been chilly that night, and portable heaters surrounded the tables. Amanda had held up the phone and snapped about a dozen photos of them all together.
Before that photo, there were more from her book launch party — piles of her books set up in Kinokuniya, Amanda with her fans? Maybe? I didn’t know any of these people. Someone had grabbed her phone at some point and taken photos of her signing books and other people gathered around drinking and laughing.
I scrolled back even further, before the book signing, and found photos of her with Shōta. They were all self-portrait photos taken at arms’ length, both of them looking happy together. It could have all been for show, though. How was I supposed to know?
Her photos stopped around the six-month mark. She may have deleted earlier ones or archived them off her phone and computer because I couldn’t find any more.
What now?
I took a deep breath and moved onto the email folder, even though my eyes hurt and my head was beginning to pound, making me feel sick. I didn’t want to go in search of food, though, because my appearance would only lead to questions about what I was doing.
I paused, my grip on my computer tightening as I heard gravel crunch in the driveway. Somebody was driving up to the house. What I was doing wasn’t strictly legal, so I closed my open applications and shut the computer, jumping off the bed and shoving my computer underneath. The doorbell rang, and Mom spoke to someone in the other room, someone with a low voice. Was that Goro?
“She’s in her room,” Mom said, her voice loud enough so I could hear. I began to panic, my heart leaping into my throat and my eyes darting about the room, wondering if I needed to hide anything else.
“Mei? Can I come in?” It was Goro.
I sighed, relaxing a little. He was a police officer, but he was also my friend. And I hadn’t done anything to get myself arrested… Again.
I slid open the door for him, and I was surprised to find he wore regular clothes.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, taking in his weary expression.
“Not exactly. I’m off the case.”