Masako Togawa - The Master Key

‘I’d love to get a look at that foreigner next time he comes.’

‘Well, he says he spends a lot of time travelling, and so no one can tell when he might turn up.’ Miss Tamura spoke regretfully; Suwa felt insecure at the thought of not knowing when the foreigner might appear. She resolved to go to Nihonbashi and take a look for herself.

The next day, Suwa put on one of her better kimonos, which she had scarcely had occasion to wear of late, and went to the address in Nihonbashi. It proved to be a large music shop. She bought one or two small items for her pupils, and then asked the young girl who had served her about the foreigner.

‘No, there’s no foreigner working here that I know of—but try the publicity department upstairs. You never know—that’s the sort of place they might employ a foreigner.’

Suwa went up and asked for the manager, who proved to be a middle-aged man. She gave her name, and then very politely asked if she could contact André Dore.

The manager looked at her queerly and replied that there were no foreigners employed in the shop.

‘Well, have you recently had a European ask you to hold and forward letters for him?’ Suwa felt on the point of giving up.

The manager phoned all the other departments, and then regretfully informed her that there was no such case that he could discover.

Suwa, who had convinced herself of the existence of the young man called André Dore, felt bitterly disappointed and then annoyed at the trick which had been played on her. Instead of going straight home, she went to the cinema for the first time in over a year. But she could not take her mind off the foreigner who called himself ‘A.D.’ Her emotions were in conflict; half of her wanted to meet this man who seemed to be the son of André Dore, the other half wanted to flee him. On her way home, she bought some cakes for Miss Tamura, and gave them to her with the request that she be informed as soon as the foreigner appeared again.

But there was no word of him for several days, during which time Suwa’s emotions were disturbed every time she passed the noticeboard and caught sight of the advertisement on it.

It was not until a week later that she received the letter. It seemed as if the writer knew the correct psychological moment to strike.

But before that, there was another development. Someone found a copy of the newspaper which was being sought.

On the morning of the fourth day after its appearance, the advertisement disappeared. Just as Suwa noticed this, Miss Tamura called her into the office. It was about tenthirty; those who were going to work had all left, and there was no one around the hall.

‘Well, at last someone found the paper! She brought it here last night and took the five thousand yen. She doesn’t want anyone to know her name. I made sure it was the right date, and then got Miss Tojo to check too, just to be sure. It would be a terrible mistake to give all that money for the wrong paper.’

‘And was there a photo of the temple in it after all?’

Well, I didn’t look, to tell the truth. I just folded it up quickly and put it in a large Manilla envelope—Miss Tojo said we should take great care of it and not handle it too much in case it got damaged.

She took out the envelope from the drawer and showed it to Suwa. It was sealed.

‘This is it. I hope he comes for it soon. I bet he’ll be pleased.’

‘Yes, but I can’t help thinking of the woman who had it for thirty years. She must hoard things carefully!’

‘Ah, but she’s no ordinary person, that one. Her room is full of old newspapers—ah, what am I saying! I’ve given her away to you—you’re bound to know who I mean.’ Miss Tamura giggled, and went on.

‘Of course, it’s Miss Ishiyama, who lives on the third floor. You know, the one they call Miss Seaweed! The one with the ragged skirt, who used to be an art teacher. Well, she’s receiving Public Assistance, so she’s supposed to declare any income that she receives. That’s why she doesn’t want anyone to know. As if we would concern ourselves about her private affairs. But I wonder what she’ll find to use five thousand yen on. She’s a real miser, that one. Would you believe that her gas and electricity bills are next to nothing?’

The image of the beggarly Noriko Ishiyama floated into Suwa’s mind. That old miser had spent the last four days going through all the newspapers in her room in order to get her hands on five thousand yen. And at last she had found it; had she read it, and, seen the article about the violin? Well, even so, it didn’t matter. Suwa felt that Noriko Ishiyama’s finding the paper bore no direct connection to her own problem.

‘But please don’t tell a soul, Miss Yatabe, I beg of you—it wouldn’t do to have it get around.’

Miss Tamura smiled sweetly at Suwa. Clearly she wanted to strengthen the relationship between the two of them. Suwa thereby realised that she need have no fear that her secret—her link with the old newspaper—was known to either of the receptionists. Thereafter, her only worry was Noriko lshiyama, and she felt a slight frisson every time she passed her in the corridor.

During that week, apart from Noriko having found the newspaper and claiming her five thousand yen, nothing out of the ordinary occurred. The foreigner did not turn up to collect the paper. Nonetheless, Suwa felt a sense of foreboding. Then the letter arrived, brought to her one afternoon by a pupil who had been given it to deliver by the front office. Suwa put it on the piano and tried to conduct the lesson as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. But she was more than usually severe with her pupil during that lesson, torn as she was by the desire to leave her duties for just a moment to attend to her private business. That square white envelope seemed to dance before her eyes wherever she looked, threatening her and disturbing her concentration. Suwa’s name and address were written with unexceptionable penmanship; when she had received the envelope from the hands of the child, she had sneaked a glance at the back, and sure enough, in the space reserved for the sender’s name there appeared the initials ‘A.D.’ Well, the anticipated had at last occurred; she felt half resigned to the fact that her fate had caught up with her, half afraid, and altogether disturbed. The thirty-minute lesson period seemed to drag on and on. At last it came to an end; she saw the pupil off and then hurried back to her room and tore the envelope open. There was just one sheet of notepaper inside; the message was written in perfect Japanese.

Dear Madam,

Thank you for going to the trouble of sending me the newspaper dated 26 January 1933.

Further to this, I would really like to discuss with you the matter of the musical instrument.

I shall wait at the entrance of the Hibiya Concert Hall from four pm on 12 February. I shall wear a red carnation in my buttonhole.

It will give me great pleasure if you would be so good as to meet me there.

The handwriting could not have been that of a foreigner; some Japanese must have written it at A.D.’s request. But what was the meaning of the reference to the newspaper, the insinuation that Suwa had sent it to him? He hadn’t come to the apartment block; instead, he proposed a meeting at the Hibiya Hall. Why? And why did the sender shelter behind initials, instead of having the grace to reveal his full name and details? It was all beyond her. There was just one possibility that occurred to her; dismiss it as she might, she could not drive it entirely from her mind. Perhaps someone else living in the apartment block had sent a copy of the newspaper using her name. But she could think of no possible motive for anyone doing such a thing. Nonetheless, she could not entirely rule out the possibility.