Харуки Мураками - Killing Commendatore

“Didn’t she have another bag for her art supplies?”

“She keeps that in her locker at school. She uses it when they have art class, and then takes it to your class on Fridays. She doesn’t bring it from home.”

That was the outfit she always wore to my class—blue jacket, white blouse, tartan plaid skirt, plastic shoulder bag, and a white canvas bag with her paints and brushes. I could picture her perfectly.

“Was she carrying anything else?”

“No, not today. So I doubt she was going very far.”

“Please call me if you hear anything,” I said. “Any time of the day or night.”

She said she would.

I hung up the phone.

Menshiki was standing beside me throughout this conversation. Only after I put down the phone did he shed his windbreaker. Underneath was a black V-neck sweater.

“So the penguin was Mariye’s after all,” Menshiki said.

“Seems so.”

“In which case, it’s likely that she went into the pit at some point—we don’t know when—and left her treasured penguin there. That’s what we have so far.”

“So you think she left it there on purpose, as a protective talisman.”

“Probably.”

“But if that’s so, who or what was it protecting?”

Menshiki shook his head. “I’m not sure. But it was clearly her lucky charm. So she must have left it behind for a reason. People don’t part with things they value so easily.”

“Unless it’s to protect something they value more than themselves.”

“For example?” Menshiki said.

Neither of us could answer that one.

We sat there in silence. Slowly but surely, the hands of the clock inched ahead. Each tick pushed the world that much further forward. Outside the window stretched a vast darkness. Nothing moved there. It seemed nothing could.

I suddenly recalled what the Commendatore had said about the missing bell. “The bell was never mine alone. It belonged to the place, to be shared by everyone. So if it disappeared there must have been a reason for it.”

Belonged to the place?

“Just maybe Mariye didn’t leave this penguin in the pit. Couldn’t the pit be connected to some other location? Perhaps it isn’t a sealed-off space but a conduit of some kind. If that’s the case, it might be able to summon all sorts of things.”

That is what I had been thinking, but said aloud it sounded ludicrous. The Commendatore might have understood. But not anyone from this world .

A deep silence settled over the room.

“So what could the bottom of the pit be connected to?” Menshiki said at last, as if addressing himself. “Remember, not so long ago I spent an hour alone down there. In the dark, without a light or a ladder. I tried to use the silence to focus my mind. To extinguish my physical existence and become pure consciousness. I figured if I could do that, I could transcend those stone walls and go wherever I liked. I used to try the same sort of thing when I was in solitary. But I couldn’t find a way out of the pit. In the end, those walls allowed me no escape.”

Perhaps the pit chose whom it wanted, I thought. The Commendatore had come to me when he left the pit. Chosen me as his lodgings, so to speak. Mariye too might have been chosen. But the pit hadn’t chosen Menshiki—for whatever reason.

“In any case,” I said, “we’re agreed—we won’t tell the police about the pit. At this stage, anyway. Still, we’re clearly concealing evidence if we keep our mouths shut about finding the penguin there. If they find that out, we could be in a sticky position.”

Menshiki thought for a moment. “So we’ll keep our lips sealed—that’s all there is to it!” he said at last. “You found it on your studio floor. We’ll go with that.”

“Maybe one of us should be with Shoko,” I said. “She’s home by herself with no idea what to do. Lost and confused. She’s heard nothing from Mariye’s father. Doesn’t she need someone there?”

Menshiki furrowed his brow. “I’m in no position to do that,” he said at last, shaking his head. “Her brother and I are total strangers, so if he came back…”

Menshiki lapsed into silence.

I had nothing to say either.

Menshiki sat there, lightly drumming his fingers on the arm of the sofa. Whatever he was thinking brought a slight flush to his cheeks.

“Would you mind if I stayed a little longer?” he asked a while later. “Shoko may try to get in touch with us.”

“By all means, please do,” I said. “I don’t think I’ll be going to bed any time soon. Stay as long as you like. You can sleep here too. I’ll lay out some bedding for you.”

Menshiki said he might take me up on my offer.

“Shall I make coffee?” I asked.

“Sounds good,” Menshiki said.

I went to the kitchen, ground the beans, and started the coffee maker. When the coffee was ready, I took it out to the living room. Then Menshiki and I drank it together.

“I think I’ll build a fire,” I said. The room had grown markedly colder once midnight passed. It was already December. An appropriate time for the first fire of the season.

I filled the cast-iron grate in the fireplace with the small stack of firewood I had set aside in the corner of the living room. Then I inserted paper under the grate and lit a match. The wood appeared to be dry, for it caught right away. I was worried that the fireplace might back up—Masahiko had said it was set to go, but you never knew until you used it. A bird could have nested in the chimney. Fortunately, however, it worked beautifully. We moved our chairs in front of the fireplace and sat there in the warmth.

“Nothing beats a wood fire,” Menshiki said.

I thought of offering him some whiskey but changed my mind. Tonight we should stay sober. Who knows, we might have to drive somewhere. So we listened to records and watched the flames dance. Menshiki selected a Beethoven violin sonata and put it on the turntable. Georg Kulenkampff on violin, with Wilhelm Kempff on piano. Perfect music for an early-winter night before a fire. It was hard to enjoy it, though, with Mariye out there shivering in the cold.

Shoko called half an hour later. Her brother had just come home and had already contacted the police. They would be there any moment to investigate. (The Akikawas were an old and wealthy family in the area, so the possibility that it was a kidnapping was making them move quickly.) There was no word from Mariye, and calling her cell phone still didn’t work. They had contacted every likely person they could think of (there weren’t that many) with no luck. No one knew where Mariye had gone.

“Let’s hope she’s all right,” I said. I asked her to let me know if there was any progress, and hung up the phone.

We sat before the fire and listened to another record. Richard Strauss’s Oboe Concerto. Menshiki plucked that off the shelf as well. It was the first time I had heard it. We sat there side by side as it played, watching the fire and thinking our solitary thoughts.

At one thirty, I suddenly grew terribly sleepy. I could barely keep my eyes open. I’ve always been an early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of guy, so late nights are hard on me.

“Go ahead and turn in,” Menshiki said, looking directly at me. “Shoko may call again, so I’ll stay up a while longer. I don’t need much sleep. I can skip a night without any problem. Always been that way. So please don’t worry about me. I’ll keep the fire burning. I can watch it while I listen to music. Do you mind?”

Of course not, I said. I brought in another load of firewood from the shed outside the kitchen and stacked it next to the fireplace. More than enough, I thought, to last until morning.