Sujata Massey - Shimura Trouble

“Wasabi? Did you order sushi for dinner last night?” By the time Michael and I had arrived home, the kitchen had all been cleaned up; I had no idea what they’d eaten.

“No, I grilled an ahi tuna and ears of corn. Tom steamed brown rice, too.”

“But where did the wasabi come from?”

“The fridge-a small container.” At my shocked expression, he said, “I believe it must be something that Hiroshi and Tom brought back from the pool concession stand. They serve sushi there, you know. I found it in a corner of the refrigerator’s door.”

“What did the wasabi look like?” I asked.

“Quite pale; it’s the fresh wasabi without an artificial color. It came in a small, covered plastic cup.”

“That sounds like the condiment Calvin brought along with the restaurant sushi, earlier in the week.” My thoughts were racing faster than the words could come out. “I must have taken the wasabi container out of the sushi box, when I was fixing my own plate, and put it down somewhere else in the fridge, where it was missed by the police inspectors.”

“I can’t believe it.” My father sounded as dazed as I felt.

“Why would Calvin do it?” I asked, then moved on to something more important. “Dad, what did you do with the wasabi container after you were finished seasoning the soup?”

“I returned it to the refrigerator, but this time on the top shelf.”

I recalled Calvin’s most recent, annoying visit. Uninvited, he’d opened our fridge to get himself a drink. Perhaps that had been his intent; to check that the wasabi was gone-or had he intended to add more poison to it?

“Dad, if it’s OK with you, I’m going home for a while. I have to find that wasabi.” I stood up.

“Just wait. I’m thinking, Rei-chan,” my father said. “Don’t jump to conclusions about Calvin’s behavior. There’s a chance he’s suffering an illness.”

“What do you mean?”

“To behave like this makes me think of one disease in particular: Munchausen’s-by-proxy.”

“I don’t think so. He’s super-fit; he didn’t look like he had any kind of disease, let alone a German-sounding one.”

“Munchausen’s is a psychiatric disorder, named for a German doctor who studied a woman who intentionally made herself very ill, repeatedly, because she craved the attention of a physician. In Munchausen’s-by-proxy, some people-often the parents of helpless children-intentionally sicken or disable someone.”

“Weird,” I said. “Very weird.” But I could see my father’s point, because ever since we’d arrived at Kainani, Calvin had been overly interested in our family. Perhaps he thought that if one of us became quite ill, he could become indispensable.

“I can understand that a few people out of every ten thousand or so might have this problem, but a psychiatrist with a great job in Oahu?” I couldn’t hide my skepticism.

“Maybe he chose to work with a private patient because he had trouble in a hospital setting,” my father said. “Another reason is that many are attracted to psychiatry or psychology careers to find answers to their own problems. Not everyone succeeds.”

“I hope to God that somebody remembered to lock our house.” I’d been the first one out, following my father to the ambulance, with Michael right after me. Edwin and Margaret were still at the resort, trying to find Courtney and Braden. I hadn’t thought to leave them my key to lock the door.

“Rei-chan, please relax. I’m so relieved the cause was found quickly, and…” Looking bilious, my father cut himself off. I looked wildly around until I spotted a bedpan. Afterward, my father’s voice was barely a whisper. “The more I get out, the better.”

“I’ll stay longer,” I said.

My father shook his head. “I’m in good hands here, so please do what you need to-check the house lock. But not alone, go with your…with Michael.”

After the nurse I’d summoned had arrived to help my father clean up, I said goodbye and went to the waiting room, where I found Michael had been joined by Edwin and Margaret.

“My father’s stable,” I said. “He’s sick to his stomach and still has the headache, but it turned out he was poisoned. It wasn’t another stroke.”

Michael sat bolt upright, and looked ready to say something, but Edwin spoke first.

“Food poisoning can come from shopping at chains stocking mainland food. You should have shopped at the Kapolei farmer’s market. Your Uncle Yosh will take you there next time.”

“I know where the poison was: in the wasabi, which was leftover from sushi that Calvin brought for me. It must have fallen into a place in the refrigerator where the health inspector missed it, but unfortunately, my father found it today and ate some.”

“But why?” Margaret sounded incredulous.

“He may have been concerned I was going to muck up the land deal for his boss. Perhaps they talked about it privately, and it was decided that Calvin needed to make me sick enough, at least, to stop pursuing the matter,” I said.

“I’m sorry.” Edwin’s voice came slowly, and there was a tone to it that I hadn’t heard before. “I invited you to visit Hawaii, thinking many good things could come out of it. I never dreamed…this. But it’s my fault, I guess, just like everything that happened with Braden.”

“Edwin, it’s not your fault,” I said, and was surprised to realize that I meant this wholeheartedly.

“It’s Calvin’s fault,” Michael said crisply. “And we’re going to do something about it, as soon as possible.”

“Braden and Courtney went to find him,” Margaret said. “Thank God they didn’t, and we brought them with us-”

“Before you left, did you lock the door?”

Edwin and Margaret exchanged glances, and shook their heads. “Sorry,” Edwin said again. “Here in Hawaii, we don’t always think of that.”

“It’s OK. If you’d wait here, I’m sure you can see my father in a bit. Michael and I will go back and take care of locking up.”

“Say something to Courtney and Braden on the way out. They’re waiting outside the clinic,” Margaret said.

Michael and I walked out of the clinic together, and found Braden lounging on a low retaining wall, smoking. At the sight of us, he dropped the cigarette in the scrubby area on the other side of the wall.

“That’s how fires start, Braden. Put it out.” Michael’s voice was tight, and I realized he was very angry.

“I did, man.”

Michael picked up the cigarette and stuck the ashy butt right between Braden’s lips. He yelped, and then spit it out on the cement.

“Always extinguish it with something wet,” Michael said. “Now throw it away.”

“How’s Uncle Toshiro?” Courtney sounded anxious.

I answered, ‘He’s going to be just fine, but I want to ask you both what happened when you went to look for Calvin Morita.”

“We went all the way to the Kikuchi house and rang the doorbell, but nobody answered. A person came by and said he thought the Kikuchis went to Maui. He saw Calvin out around the resort, jogging.”

“We better get back.” I pulled on Michael’s hand.

“Isn’t there something you want to tell Braden?” Michael asked. “About the cops taking in Gerry Liang?”

“Oh, of course.” Quickly, I told Braden that Gerry Liang had been recorded admitting that he contracted underlings to dig up rocks all over the island, and that was his smallest problem, given that he’d been booked for attempted assault and kidnapping.

“Is Kainoa going to go to jail, too?” Braden asked at the end of it.

“He’ll probably get some fine or minor punishment for being a middleman in the business, but the more he talks about Gerald Liang’s business practices, the easier things will be for him,” Michael explained.